#fighting Frodo’s nightmares >>>>>

[apoloadonisandnarcissus]

What would happen if Galadriel joined Sauron?

Many think he would make a slave out of her, or something of that sort. But is that what would really happen?

Tolkien sort of answered to that on his Letter 246, when discussing the Three Elven ring-bearers (Galadriel, Elrond and Gandalf) in connection with them taking the One ring for themselves:

It appears that Galadriel conceived of herself as capable of wielding the Ring and supplanting the Dark Lord. […] Galadriel would have proceeded in the policy now adopted by Sauron: [she] would have built up an empire with great and absolutely subservient generals and armies and engines of war, until [she] could challenge Sauron and destroy him by force.  

Galadriel would be worse than Sauron, in the long run. Because, according to Tolkien, Galadriel would be Sauron 2.0., and she would follow the “Saruman route”: she would join Sauron conspiring to replace him and take his power for herself.

Which is pretty much what she says in “Fellowship of the Ring” book:

“And now at last it comes. You will give me the Ring freely! In place of the Dark Lord you will set up a Queen. And I shall not be dark, but beautiful and terrible as the Morning and the Night! Fair as the Sea and the Sun and the Snow upon the Mountain! Dreadful as the Storm and the Lightning! Stronger than the foundations of the earth. All shall love me and despair!

She lifted up her hand and from the ring that she wore there issued a great light that illumined her alone and left all else dark. She stood before Frodo seeming now tall beyond measurement, and beautiful beyond enduring, terrible and worshipful.

And this could go both ways: either Sauron would want her as Queen, or as a servant. She would try to take his place, all the same.

Anyway, with them blood bond together, Sauron would give her his power, and turn her into a Goddess. Since he was created as a Maia, and needs to serve a Vala, he can’t escape his own submissive nature. And, so, Sauron wouldn’t sideline Galadriel, quite the opposite. And in the long run, their dynamic would return to what it was in Season 1, no matter his intentions; because Galadriel is a natural born leader, while Sauron is a natural born follower.

And this would be absolutely terrifying. I don’t think there would be any light, there. Galadriel would be corrupted (and Sauron wouldn’t need to do much, if I’m being honest). Sauron’s power would turned her into a super-villain Dark Afrodite; she would make everyone fall in love with her (“all shall love me and despair”), her appeal maximized, irresistible and seductive. Everyone would fall at her feet, on their knees, and be slaves to her. She would get anything she wanted from everyone around her.

Don’t believe this self-deceiving evil diva; there would be no “light” involved in this.

Not sure how this would work with Sauron’s jealousy and possessiveness, though; probably he would start to resent her the same way he did with Morgoth. Galadriel would have to find a way to calm down Sauron’s obsessiveness. Because this would be wild, and the stuff of nightmares for everyone else, but them.

This would probably be Sauron all the time.

And all of this would destroy Middle-earth. Galadriel’s suitors would be going around killing each other over her. Universal warfare. And Sauron himself would probably join this fight if any of them were to cross a line with Galadriel. This would mean apocalypse. The doomsday of the simps.

[shirefantasies]

the fellowship and how they would comfort you after a nightmare

Sure thing! This is such a cute idea I love it 🥺 no detail is given about the nature of the nightmare, so it’s pretty fluffy & open to interpretation 🥰

How The Fellowship Comforts You After a Nightmare

Aragorn

A pair of hands catch you about the waist. “Careful, beloved, you almost fell,” a deep voice whispers. Aragorn. You start despite the comforting voice, and he notices. Fixing you with a look of concern, he nods encouragingly, letting you speak; you tell him it was a nightmare. “What happened?” He asks, and he listens with great interest as you describe what you saw, what your mind forced you to experience. “The night can be false,” he tells you, moving so close you can feel his breath upon your ear, “bringing forth our greatest fears. But I am here with you in its darkness.” Nodding, you give a small smile as he takes your hands. “Come here,” he beckons, and acquiescing he tucks you into him, your back against his chest and his arm draped over you protectively.

Legolas

“Come." You hear Legolas before you see him, feel the way he reaches for you. Fingers intertwine with yours and shakily you reciprocate the grip. He raises you gently to a seated position, holding you lightly about the waist as you rotate in tandem. You’re facing the window, you realize, looking out into the night. “The stars,” Legolas breathes, “ever have they provided us with hope and comfort. They are looking out for us.” Mystic as his words are, you cannot help but admit that focusing on the distant, twinkling lights is calming, especially in Legolas’s arms. Silently, you nod. Legolas peers down at you thoughtfully before speaking again, pointing out stars and constellations until you are lulled into a much more peaceful sleep.

Boromir

A tear slides down your cheek, but before the lines to reality are fully crossed you feel a hand caress you, wipe the droplet gently. “What ever is the matter?” A voice you would recognize anywhere: Boromir. Before you can speak you’re latching onto him. Stroking the crown of your head, he questions again, this time asking if you are all right. “I will be,” you answer shakily. His lips fall to yours, firmly but with a sense of care, of loving. “Good. You have me until then, and, I’m afraid, long after that, too,” he jokes, pulling you closer. “That means more than you could ever know,” you mutter, nuzzling into his neck and giving in when he shifts to his back, your body draped over his like a warm blanket.

Gimli

Gasping and shooting upward, you are met with a shout that has you exclaiming as well, heart thundering in your chest. Suddenly, looking as though he’s been slapped, Gimli reaches for your hand, taking it in both of his. “Whatever is the matter, my jewel?” You cannot help cracking a feeble smile at his words of endearment even through the involuntary terror you’d awoken to. You apologize, tell him a nightmare had taken you. “Not if I have anything to say about it!” Gimli retorts. “Does it realize who it is up against?” Cue your beloved dwarf highlighting every amazing thing about you, from your beauty to your fighting spirit to simply poetry, all the wonderful things in this world you remind him of. “So if some dream thinks it can take you, it is sorely mistaken,” he concludes, looking satisfied at the upward tug of your lips, the bashful way your head falls against his chest.

Frodo

Stirs with immediate knowledge and understanding of what you are going through, having experienced it many times himself. No words are necessary, only the small, sad nod you share. Frodo's hand immediately trails up and down your arm, spreading grounding warmth across your skin. Your head falls back against his chest in defeat and with a deep breath, he pulls you flush against him, lips pressing against the crown of your head. Frodo never demands words, but listens with deep thoughtfulness if you wish to volunteer them and even shares any similarities in his so you know you are not alone. Especially if any of them embody your worst intrusive thoughts, the hardest things to share aloud. He only feels comfortable sharing the events of his own nightmares because of this dark bond you share, but seeing your face and feeling the caress of your hand upon his cheek is all it takes to cast a light back into his eyes, one that sparks the same for you.

Sam

Sam’s hold upon you is the first awareness you achieve as you are thrust back into reality, your eyelashes fluttering as you make out his form. The moment tension fades from your body, he’s pulling you into him, rocking you gently and running his hand through or over your hair. “Sam, I’m sorry -” “Shhh,” he soothes, smiling gently, almost tearfully, “there’s no need. There’s no need at all. Let’s just stay here.” At your nod, he rests his chin atop your head and tucks your bodies as close into each other as possible, limbs fitting together like puzzle pieces. The last sensation you remember before drifting off to sleep is Sam’s lips lightly pressed against your cheek.

Merry

A gasp alerts Merry to your plight, sending him shooting up into a seated position, looking around the room with concern before his eyes fall sympathetically to you. “Bad dream?” His voice is quiet, hoarse from lack of use. You just nod. “Well that won’t do,” he shoots back, sitting up further and extending a hand. Shakily you take it and are pulled up at his side, an arm slung around your shoulders. “In the Brandybuck household, bad dreams mean storytime,” he tells you with a growing smile, “so your choice. Family legend or embarrassing Pippin story?” You feel your lips curling upward, visions of your nightmare already fading. “Embarrassing Pippin story.” “Great choice! So this one time…well, we’d had one too many tankards, I’ll confess, but I was well until Pippin…”

Pippin

Does not wake up at your first stirring, but as you shift you feel his body move alongside you, turning to face your way. “Are you all right?" He whispers when you fall into his gaze, distress clear upon your face that you both feel and see mirrored in his. “Nightmare,” is all you have to whisper before you’re wrapped up completely in Pippin’s embrace, his legs tangling with yours as his arms wind around you. A smile breaks through on your face when you feel him nuzzle into you with his nose, leading you to snuggle in closer against his soft curls. “I’m always going to be here for you,” you hear him whisper, feel his warm breath as he speaks, “always.”

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[erulasse23]

Frodo & PTSD: Symptoms

I don’t particularly like using the DSM to describe symptoms of trauma because the criteria for post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD) are very limited and specific. Trauma can have a much wider ranging and subtler impact even if one does not meet all of the criteria for PTSD. However, it does provide four helpful categories for discussing symptoms.

1. Intrusion: flashbacks, intrusive thoughts, nightmares, etc.

2. Avoidance: both of external or internal reminders of the trauma

3. Negative changes to thoughts or mood: depression, anxiety, negative self-image, paranoia, guilt, memory loss

4. Arousal/Reactivity: irritability, sleep disturbance, impulsivity, difficulty concentrating, easily startled

PTSD can also be with or without symptoms of dissociation, i.e. feeling that the self or surroundings are unreal, distant, or dreamlike. Dissociation can be placed in the arousal category as it represents an under-arousal of the nervous system (The freeze response out of fight/flight/freeze). I would argue that Frodo demonstrates symptoms in all four categories, but particularly intrusion with dissociation. I have to note that some of Frodo’s symptoms could be caused by the magic of the ring or the wraiths, but I still believe it’s an accurate reflection of how people respond to trauma in a non-magical world.

Intrusion: Frodo is described as having flashbacks on multiple occasions. In The Two Towers, after seeing a Black Rider, Frodo takes longer to recover then Sam or Gollum. It says “His eyes were closed, as if he were dreaming, or looking inward into his heart and memory.” In The Return of the King, Arwen tells Frodo that he can sail, “If… the memory of your burden is heavy…” and later, there are three flashbacks described. Two are on the anniversary of the Nazgûl stabbing Frodo, and one on the anniversary of him being captured by the orcs at Cirith Ungol.

Here is how they are described:

“His eyes appeared not to see them or things about him… ‘The memory of darkness is heavy on me,’ [said Frodo.]”

“He seemed half in a dream. ‘It is gone forever,’ he said, ‘and now all is dark and empty.’”

“His eyes seemed to see things far away… ‘I am wounded,’ he answered, ‘wounded; it will never really heal.’”

Frodo is also implied to have nightmares, particularly while in Cirith Ungol.

Avoidance: This is clearest on two occasions. First, when presented with honor after the Ring is destroyed, Frodo at first refuses to wear a sword. Later, during the scouring of the Shire, Frodo refuses to carry a sword or hurt anyone. I think this can be interpreted as Frodo avoiding an uncomfortable reminder of his trauma.

Thought & Mood: The longer that Frodo carries the Ring, the more tired and sad he becomes. He begins to despair of living past the destruction of the Ring. He is weary, exhausted, and feels that the Ring is a physically heavy burden as well as emotionally. He tires quicker than Sam. After the Ring is gone, however, his depression does not entirely lift. He feels that he has changed, and therefore the Shire is no longer the safe haven it once was. He does not find joy in his life there as he did before.

‘But,’ said Sam, and tears started in his eyes. ‘I thought you were going to enjoy the Shire too for years and years after all you have done.’

‘So I thought too once. But I have been too deeply hurt, Sam. I tried to save the Shire, and it has been saved, but not for me.’

Arousal: I am going to go ahead and place dissociative symptoms into this category for ease. Frodo does become easily startled and irritable while in Mordor with the Ring. Frodo also experiences somewhat of a dissociative state during his flashbacks, as previously described. Apart from those instances, he also at least twice becomes blinded after encountering a wraith and says that all appears dark, and he cannot see. In The Two Towers, after passing the dead marshes, while he is on watch, “He lost count of time, hovering between sleep and waking.” After the Witch-King passes in the Morgul Valley, he hears Sam‘s voice “at a great distance, as if it came out of memories of the Shire…” While under direct influence from the Nazgûl, particularly directly after he is stabbed, he sees the world as shadowed and misty.

Let me know your thoughts!

Part One | Part Three

[thewulf]

For That Long? || Aragorn

Summary: Request -Hello! 👋 Your work is absolutely amazing! Especially your Aragorn fics (My King! 🗡️👑❤️) In fact, whenever works best for you, here’s an idea: During the victory celebration at Helm’s Deep, the reader (also a Dunedain Ranger) offers a quick dance lesson for Aragorn to a) enjoy the celebration with him and.... Read Rest Here

A/N: Thank you for the sweetest little request anon! I had too much fun writing this one. I love trying to get into his head. Keep sending amazing requests my way! And thank you for you kind comments!

Pairing: Aragorn x Reader

Word Count: 3.5k +

TW: fluff?

“Not like that, Strider.” You giggled something fierce as he tripped over his own feet for the umpteenth time that night. Somehow you had convinced him to dance with you after quite literally decades of trying to get him as your partner.

“Have I not already told you how hopeless this is, Callia?” He asked you by your chosen Ranger name. You had to abandon Y/N when you left home all those years ago. If you were captured you must never give up your true name for your family could bear danger to your chosen work.

“You just need to relax yourself. Your mind.” You poked his forehead while grinning from ear to ear.

He sighed, “I cannot keep making a fool of myself in front of…”

You stopped him by placing his hand on your hip catching him most off guard, “My King overthinks.” You whispered as you took a soft step towards him. He smelled good. Like of the woody scent he naturally had but even better.

“I am no King.”

You smiled more to yourself than him, “Not yet. But the people have decided. It be but a mere month and you shall be.”

“It does not feel right hearing you call me that, my lady.” He countered while raising his eyebrows right up waiting for your retaliation.

Trying your best, but failing, you made a face in reaction, “You know I am hardly a lady.”

He hummed. Not even realizing you had begun to lead him you kept talking trying to rid his mind of the thoughts that plagued him. For if there was anybody who knew Strider better than himself it was you. Time had a way of making your heart the softest for him and truly only him. Countless sleepless nights of diving into your worst nightmares and trauma would find a way to bond the two seemingly hopeless souls.

“The opposite is true.” He smiled down at you with a look you had rarely seen from the hardened leader. You had been away from him longer than you wished. He had told you to go to Minas Tirith after getting orders from Gandalf to help the Hobbits of the Shire. You had heard the story of the great Bilbo Baggins and now apparently Strider had to accompany his nephew, Frodo. He had told you to go to Minas Tirith and wait for his word.

That had been six months ago. You had gotten used to life without him how odd it may seem. You had made a few friends that you probably never would have had Strider joined you. It was terribly uncomfortable. Your simple life changed when you had gotten word from him asking you to join him in Rohan. He knew something was coming and needed all the help he could get.

“A lady does not count her kills.” You spoke breaking the comfortable silence between the two of you. A shift occurred as he had taken control of the dancing now. Your easy banter all but freeing his mind from his thoughts. Dancing wasn’t so bad. Especially if he got to hold you like this.

“By your definition.” He smirked down but dared not look into your eyes for he knew he would cave to any of your demands, “Not by mine. And did you not say I was to be King?”

You fought every urge in you not to pinch his side, “You are impossible.”

“Do you not refute, my lady?” His smirk only grew as he noticed your face fighting the urge to react. It was amusing watching you try and stay neutral. For he had missed this. Sure, it was not only the two of you dancing but it had felt like it. You had a way of taking his mind off of whatever he needed. You had always seemed to have known what he may have needed.

“It is no use in arguing with you, Aragorn.” You gave him the eye letting him know you were not over the little secret he had kept from you for so long. You had only found out of the name when Legolas shouted it on the battlefield almost costing you your life. It had left you stunned. Who was Aragorn and why had Strider reacted as if it was his name.

Because it was. He had apologized profusely before you finally gave in. Leading you to this moment with him. You had finally convinced him he needed to learn how to properly dance since he was to be the king. And lucky for him you so happened to know many dances as your mother had insisted a girl your age to learn them all those years ago in Dúnedain.

An amused smile crossed his features as he led you across the dance floor. Maybe he was not so pathetic after all, “It is not like you, Callia, to bite your tongue.”

“Hush you.” A laugh escaped you. It was no use trying to hide your own amusement. Yes, he pushed you, but it had also shown you how much he too cared for you.

He slowly stopped the two of you from your dance before replying, “You are most fortunate the music has ended."

A quick nod left you head as it spun out of control by his soft touch and daring words, “Most fortunate indeed.” Begrudgingly you took a step back knowing the moment between the two of you had ended.

But his words had stopped you from turning all the way around, “I will stop teasing you if you lead me in another dance. For I must learn. I do not wish to embarrass you.”

You only grinned before stepping back into his hands, “You could never embarrass me Strider.”

Your eyes glistened with unshed tears as you took in the breathtaking room before you. Stifling a laugh, you couldn’t truly believe you had made it here with him, alive and in one piece. Your truest and oldest friend crowned the King of Gondor. How you would never have believed this only three years prior. You watched as royalty and common people alike danced with joy and glee for their newfound leader. Aragorn. It felt the most surreal as you watched him mingle with people that mattered. A King. Who would’ve thought. Glancing down at your nearly empty glass you sighed knowing you had to make the walk back to get another drink.

But you never made it as you were intercepted by nonother the man you were watching far too often that night, “Strider!” You smiled trying to play it off as nothing as his broad hands covered the length of your forearm with ease, “You best get dancing. You have many eyes on you, my King.” You grinned with ease knowing calling him such made him uncomfortable. You truly had known him as Strider for as long as you could remember. You’d met as teenagers in your youth, kids from Dúnedain.

Your fathers were friends keeping you close together often until he went off on his own. When it came time to leave you had heard Strider was a Ranger. Having a feeling you’d run into him again you weren’t surprised you were assigned to his company not long after you left home to find a purpose. Just like him. In a lot of ways, you were the same. But in so many different.

For the last sixty or so years the two of you became something of a menace in the North. Something to be feared. Always working as a team, the two of you always seemed to come out of battles unscathed.

He grumbled in response to the title name you had used on him, “I have told you not to call me that. It does not feel right hearing those words from you. Strider will do.”

You smiled seeing how you managed to get under his skin with such ease, “Strider is too informal. May I call you Aragorn at least?”

“I think Strider is perfectly formal. But you may call me as you see fit. So long as it is not, my King.” He smiled right back at you. Even he had to admit how nice it was seeing you so at ease. He had roamed the North for nearly sixty years with you. He had never seen you so relaxed. He was sure he had seen you smiling more tonight than he had in the past sixty combined. You smiled like that bright eyed teenager who had an obvious crush on the older teen. It was times like these that made him wish he had told you how he had felt the same. He had longed for you for so long in silence. He had a duty to uphold. But now? Time was different. He needed somebody on his side. He had always known that somebody was you.

You bowed just knowing it would push his nerves further, “As my King wishes, I shall only refer to him as Aragorn.”

His mouth dropped at your brazenness, but he should have known better. He was convinced you were placed with him was to keep hm grounded. You had a certain way about you that had him acting his very best, “Y/N.” He let out an audible sigh letting you know he was annoyed.

“Strider.” You raised an eyebrow as if to challenge him knowing that name was now obsolete in your vocabulary. He was Aragorn now. You could get used to it.

He looked to the dance floor before turning back to you, “Would you join me in a dance?” He held his hand out for you to take giving you your favorite impatient face. It was your favorite thing to do after all, push his buttons.

Your smirk turned up into a genuine smile, “This is a pleasant change. I would be honored to join you in a dance, Aragorn.”

“Are you going to choose a name Callia?” He grumbled as you placed your hand in his. His smile never faltered even though he pretended to be most annoyed by you. It wasn’t lost on your how gently he wrapped his hand around yours before nodding his head to the nearly empty ballroom floor.

You giggled more to yourself knowing how annoyed he was with you. Maybe you should stop winding him up. It was almost too much fun to stop though, “Am I not allowed to interchange two of your many names?” You followed along his lead down to the center of the empty floor.

He stopped once he had found a place good enough. Placed one hand over your hip and one behind your back, “Hands on my shoulders.” His voice dropped nearly an octave as he gave you a simple order. A shiver ran down your side at his touch. This was new for you as well. Sure, you had found him ever so attractive, but he hadn’t the slightest interest in you. Everything was platonic as could be between the two of you. So, you had backed off and kept it cool knowing nothing was ever going to happen.

You did as he wished and wrapped your hands around his neck, far more intimate than you had intended but you were committed now. It would be almost more embarrassing to unwrap yourself from him, “You did not answer my question.” You spoke trying to rid your mind of overthinking this situation you had seemed to find yourself in.

He gave you a grin as his eyes trailed all over your face, “I was only playing with you. You may call me as you please.”

Before you could answer the music started forcing your concentration of following his lead. It was impressive how quickly he had picked up on the steps of the dances you had only taught him only a few times a month ago. It had been a little over a month after the Celebration of Helm’s Deep after the hell that was the battle.

You were almost upset when the music had stopped knowing his hands would soon leave you. It was not right to have these feelings for such a longtime friend. Let alone the King of Gondor. But how could you not? He was Strider the great Ranger of the North. He was Aragorn the leader of the Fellowship. He was the King of Gondor. He was everything.

Fortunate for you he hadn’t move his hands from your waist even as the music stopped, “I do think I should call you Aragorn. It suits your stature. You have outgrown Strider.”

He bowed his head before slowly bringing his eyes up to yours, “Then Aragorn I shall be, my lady.” He was smirking now knowing how much you too loathed the high title he had seemed to start calling you.

With a frustrated breath your eyes narrowed at his, “If you shall call me my lady, then I will call you my King.” You too didn’t enjoy how the high title rolled off his lips. You were anything but a lady even in the dress you protested but had been convinced of.

He let out a breathy chuckle as he finally came back to his senses and let his hands go of your waist. You feared to admit how much you had enjoyed his touch and closeness, “I suppose that is fair, Callia.”

Stepping forward to straighten his collar you could only smile up at him in adoration, “You look very handsome tonight. Who knew you cleaned up so well?”

He took your hand in his once more, “It took a fair bit of work. But I must say, it is you who shines the brightest tonight.”

He had never complimented you so forthright before it drew a small gasp out of your very own mouth, “You are most kind to me. Thank you Aragorn.” You were suddenly thankful you had put some makeup on. You were praying it was covering up the sure-fire pink tint that was bound to be covering your cheeks.

He watched as you turned away from him, “You must get back to your advisor. He looks very weary over in the corner.” You tried a good excuse to walk away from him. He was suddenly becoming too much even for you.

“Wait,” You stopped and turned back to him with that subtle blush coating your face. When you stopped he continued, “Come take a walk with me. I wish to talk with just you.” His darting eyes let you know people were listening, always listening in now that he had such a high title.

“As you wish.” You followed him as he left the hall as discretely as he could.

The two of you had made it all the way to the gardens before he had spoken once more, “I want to thank you, Y/N.” By speaking your true born name, you knew this was serious. There was no playfulness of my lady or the knowing name of Callie. Y/N.

You had no clue where this was coming from. Truly, you rattled your mind for further thoughts before you gave in, “Whatever for?”

He smiled as he led you down the path of roses he had grown fond of in his short time here, “For always being there for me. You have shown up for me time and time yet again.” He paused taking your hand in his before placing a gentle kiss on the back of it. Had he no idea what he was doing to you?

“You are my truest friend.” You answered honestly after a few long moments of trying your hardest not to cave into whatever was taking over your mind. He was your friend! Only a friend. That is all he had ever wanted. He was simply thanking you for the journey. That was all. One chapter of your lives had closed and the next was to begin. You had to wonder where you would end up. In the capital being a guard? Roaming the woodland realms for danger? Head home and care for your aging parents? The choices were endless for your new life.

He let out a short laugh, “For that you are. May I tell you something?”

“Anything.” The response was so automatic it almost took you by surprise.

“If not for you, I would not be here.” He spoke quickly.

It took you much longer to process those words, “What do you mean?”

“If I had not known you would always be there I would not be king.” He smiled as his eyes traced your nervous face. You were truly the most beautiful woman he had ever known. How had he gotten so lucky with you? And by any other stroke of luck, you would accept his next question that had been weighing heavily on his mind.

“I am not sure what you mean Aragorn.” Your heart rate sped up just a tad as he stepped back from you. He fished something out of his robe pocked. Your eyes went wide as he held an old relic. A beautiful ring covered in gemstones.

“You have always been there for me Y/N. I fear nobody could ever take that place. I wish nobody to take that place. For I am the happiest when I am with you. Those last six months have not been good for me. But now that I am back with you I feel whole once again. There is no lady that could take your place Y/N. For your place is next to me.” The last words to come out of his mouth almost came out as a whisper for even he was nervous. The mighty King of Gondor afraid of some feelings he had almost his entire life. Oh, how his father would be laughing now.

Your heart rate kicked it up another notch. It felt like you had been training it was racing so fast, “Forgive me, I fear I am not enough…”

He stopped you this time though by placing a gentle finger on your lips, “I wish to not hear you speak poorly of yourself. For I do not respect those words. I will never believe them. I do know your entirely Y/N. Please, do me the honor of letting me court you.”

Your breath had been taken from you now, “You like me?” You had managed to get out feeling oddly faint.

“I love you.” He said so effortlessly you weren’t sure you had him quite right.

Your eyes turned up to his as he stepped closer to you, “You love me?”

A quick nod came from his head as his eyes bore right into yours, “I do.”

“I love you, too.” You spoke back before you could let your thoughts get the better of you.

His hands moved to your cheeks as he held you in his own, “For nearly seventy years I have yearned to hear those words from your lips.”

“For that long?” You asked in bewilderment to his statement. How had he kept it from you with such ease? It amazed you he had managed to be so stoic when you had been so obvious. Why had he fought it for so long?

He did what you least expected and bowed down to you, slowly. He had made sure you knew his intention, “I may not have always been wise to it but indeed. I have always loved you.”

You nodded quickly, your smile beaming brighter than ever before. He was sure that was his new favorite look on you, “Yea.”

“Yea?” He asked you as confirmation.

“I accept. I would be honored to stand by your side Aragorn.” Before you could bow to him he caught your chin in his hand shaking his hand to let you know that would be most unnecessary.

“You are doing me the honor.” He fastened the necklace with the ring on your neck tucking it underneath the top of your dress. His hands trailed down your sides resting on your hip for longer than he should have. He needed to take a step back or he would kiss you. Not that you wouldn’t let him, no. He was sure you would be more than happy about it. He simply wanted to charm you before he kissed you. He would not rush into this with you. For he had taken nearly seventy years to admit how he had felt. What was a little longer?

“You made it, Strider. You did it.” You brushed his wavy hair away from his face knowing that would be the last time you referred to him as such. From here forth he would be Aragorn. And you would wed him. How a life you dreamed of had come to fruition was beyond you.

He shook his head grabbing at your hands once more, “We made it. We did it.” He spoke of all the wishes the two of you spoke about in your many long nights. The dreams had seemed to come truer than either of you could have imagined. It almost didn’t feel real.

You nodded with nothing but love in your eyes, “Indeed, we did it.”

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

[namusthetic]

The Writers' Series

Who wrote you, based on your aesthetic?

British Edition

---------🖋️

Oscar Wilde

"You can never be overdressed or overeducated."

Irregular sleep schedule

Sprawling on a sofa quoting poets long gone

The forbidden sweetness of guilty pleasures

The gently whispered name of a lover

Losing oneself to sensations and feelings

Writes poems for their lovers

Dressing up only for the pleasure of doing so

That dizzy feeling of late night adventures

Procrastination and unsent letters

An old silver framed broken mirror and forgotten withered roses

Sitting alone late at night. The thick, stuffy air in the room is making you dizzy and dulls your senses

Virginia Woolf

"How many times have people used a pen or a paintbrush because they couldn't pull the trigger?"

The soft first autumn breeze

Spending winter afternoons in hidden library corners

Taking long walks along the riverbank in the early afternoon

Gives good advice but doesn't follow it

Scented candles and gentle nostalgia

The furious, quiet calmness of the ocean before a storm

Orange blossoms and sea salt

The texture of paper under your fingertips and the sound of chirping from outside the window

Wants to change the world one word at a time

Never forgives, never forgets

Reads poems in the golden afternoon light

Romantic but won't talk about their feelings

William Shakespeare

"The fault, dear Brutus, is not in our stars, but in ourselves."

Wine stains on victorian shirts

The sound of footsteps on marble floors

Scribbling random Latin sentences in other people's notebooks

Dark, alluring, and a little bit occult

Writes poems on random scraps of paper and then forgets about them

The line between dreams and reality starting to blur

Loud, contagious laugh

Sword fights back stage

A lone flickering candle in the night

Laughs and cries at the same time when overwhelmed with emotion

Believes in the power of the unsettling and the forbidden

Sprawls on any available surface just to read tragedies and drink wine

Mary Shelley

"When I looked around, I saw and heard of none like me. Was I then a monster?"

The sound of your heart beating in your ears when waking up from a nightmare

Anatomy and science illustrations

Equations and formulas scribbled everywhere

The touch of cold metal on warm skin

The clap of thunder and insistent drumming of heavy rain on the windowpanes

The muffled sound of cracking thunder from outside

Organized shelves and absentminded humming

Cold gravity and solemn silences

The cold shudder of realisation

Pacing back and forth trying to solve grave problems and unexpected results

Empathizes easily

Agatha Christie

"Poirot," I said. "I have been thinking."

"An admirable exercise my friend. Continue it."

Hot chocolate on cold winter days while people watching inside an old Café

Sitting down in parks and reading the paper

The scent of clean laundry

Windswept hair and sharp looks

Spontaneous conversations and smiling at strangers

Could prove anyone wrong solely for their own amusement

Wet pavements glinting in the sunshine after a rain shower

Apricot jam, fresh baked croissants and café au lait while reading the newspaper in the early morning

A glint in their eyes and a spring in their step

Peppermints and vanilla hand cream

Sarcasm and condescending smiles

J.R.R. Tolkien

"It's a dangerous business, Frodo, going out your door. You step onto the road, and if you don't keep your feet, there's no knowing where you might be swept off to."

Early morning dew sparkling on spiderwebs

The awareness and clarity that comes with crisp morning air

Daisies, gingerbread and warm comfy clothes

Really into folklore

Snail shells and acorns kept in a jacket's pocket

The scent of fresh homemade bread in the morning

The gentle murmur of the wind blowing through the trees

Nothing could make them miss their afternoon tea

Knows the name of every plant or bird species

Presses flowers in their notebooks

That spark for adventure glims constantly in their eyes

George Orwell

"But if thought corrupts language, language can also corrupt thought."

The smell of cigarettes and the sound of steps on the wet pavement

Long night walks around the city

The cold winter wind howling against the windows

Cheap black coffee drank in a small almost empty 24/7 coffee shop

Tired eyes and vivid dreams of liberty

Messy, rushed writing

The condensation on a cold window

Minimalist notebooks and black ballpoint pens hidden everywhere

Trying desperately to be free, to feel alive

The deafening silence of loneliness and the gentle quiet of solitude

T. S. Eliot

"For I have known them all already, known them all / Have known the evenings, mornings, afternoons, / I have measured out my life with coffee spoons."

Coffee and ink stains

Tiny scribbled notebooks carried around in worn out messenger bags

Reads to escape the real world

Reading on public transportation and almost missing the stop

Falls in love five times a day

Strong coffee and dark chocolate

Feels like nobody can truly understand them

Doesn't take care of themselves

Stacks their books randomly around their house, forgetting empty coffee mugs and notepads on top of them

Flopping facedown on the bed and listening to the sounds of the life out the window

[bitterlycursedstars]

Hmm. Very good question, anon. (I really hope you like this)

Cursed—

This man does not know how to do anything on his own outside of fighting.

Dishes? Puts soap in the cast iron pan. Cuts himself on a knife immediately, which is extremely ironic. Somehow gets water e v e r y w h e r e.

Cooking? Burns water. Reads "2 cups" of sugar instead of "2/3 cup". Accidentally set fire to the microwave while cooking an egg.

Making the bed? Immediately gets wrapped and tangled in the fitted sheet like Frodo after Shelob was finished with him.

Also, the man was trapped in the underworld for 20+ years. He cannot possibly smell good. He'd constantly smell like blood and sweat.

Heaven help you when he discovers "What Does The Fox Say?" He'll play it on repeat for literal hours on end AND sing every single word.

He's absolutely crazy about kittens, and will randomly bring 20 of them home one day. "But they were so small and soft. You could not possibly expect me to just leave them there. Foolish boy/girl."

He absolutely does not understand flirting or innuendos (yes, I know V does). "Hey, handsome. Every other seat is taken. Do you mind if I sit there?" *points to his lap* "I very much mind. Here- just take my seat instead."

Has constant resting bitch face that you'll just have to deal with.

Blessed—

As I've said many times before, this man will love and protect you til his very last breath. He knows how it feels to be hurt and abandoned, and he swears to never let you feel it from him.

He says absolutely not when you bring it up, but deep down he would adore a baby that he could watch grow up.

He frequently has nightmares due to his horrible past, so he pulls you closer to him in his sleep and holds you tightly all night as his whimpering slowly subsides.

One of his favorite activities is just sitting beside you as he quietly reads his book and sips a cup of hot tea, enjoying the closeness between you two.

He loves kissing your forehead, especially if you're shorter than him. It makes him feel strong and even makes him smile.

He'll never admit it, but he loves when you call him 'pretty boy'. He'll huff and look away from you, scowling, but he's really only try to hide the blush creeping up on his pale cheeks.

He especially likes it if you and Nero become close, since neither one of them grew up with much of a family.

[lucigoo]

Fight for a Siren’s Life

A huge thank you to @midnightstar789, @shipper47, my naming minarch @sunnyrosewritesstuff and everyone else in the Bagginsheld Book Club (BBC) for the help in this fic. You know how hard writing feral sirens is? lol.

Fight for a Siren’s Life

Anyway, this is part 3 of the An Unexpected Siren series.

Summary: Bilbo is out hunting with Frodo when the Mer of all of Thorin's nightmares finds Bilbo and their guppy.

Will Bilbo survive? Will Frodo escape or will Thorin once more be looking at the borken pieces of another being he loves?

And as always an excerpt for you all:

“Do you know how I know your precious Thorin?” Azog asked, going out on a whim that he was dear to the barnacle-bastard Durin, who had almost chopped Azog’s tail off when they had been in a skirmish when they were younger. Bilbo looked at the clearly angry male and just yawned, his teeth once again on display, showing a clear warning to Azog. Azog found that if it hadn’t been attached to Oakenshield, he would have kept it, at least for a while. It looked like it would be a fun distraction, but instead, he would have to kill it and leave its head where Oakenshield would see it , and when the other mer felt the pits of despair trying to swallow him whole, then Azog would rush forward and destroy the other male as he constantly tried to destroy Azog and his own pod. “We met when we were quite young. When Oakenshield’s grandfather killed my father, mother, and brother. I was weak and had just hacked at his younger cousin’s tail. The blood smelt delicious, and I was ready to feast on young Durin flesh. But then HE swims between us with a piece of oaken driftwood he used as a shield to batter me backwards, away from the youngling. He almost chopped my arm off. See the scar here?” Azog paused as he flexed his arm so Bilbo could see the gnarly scar that went around almost the entire thing. Bilbo couldn’t help but smile at the proof that his mate was formidable, even if it left him with the mad mer who wanted to hurt Thorin and his family in any way imaginable. Azog clearly knew what the beads in Bilbo’s hair meant. He was going to make Bilbo the instrument of Thorin’s hurt and pain. Or at least that was what Azog was going to try. Unfortunately for him, Bilbo wasn’t a pushover. He had attacked and eaten a part of Thorin himself, and Bilbo had fancied his silly mer from the moment he laid eyes on him (even if he couldn’t stand the prey thief then). Azog was as ugly on the inside as on the outside, and more than anything else, he threatened Bilbo’s guppy. A threat Bilbo would not let go unchallenged. A danger he could not let go unchallenged.

[velvet4510]

Choking up thinking about how much Frodo inspired Sam.

Being chased by mysterious cloaked horsemen in the night, fighting orcs and a gigantic hungry monster, breaking into a huge tower, walking hundreds of miles on foot through a filthy, toxic land, climbing up a literal volcano filled with ash and smoke, watching the love of his life slowly be consumed by an evil dark force right in front of him … these are all things that Sam never in a million years dreamed of experiencing in his lifetime. He was completely unprepared for all this and facing dangers worse than anything he had ever encountered in the simple Shire.

But he observed Frodo. He saw Frodo save them from the Barrow-wights. He saw Frodo resist and recover from a wraith wound. He saw Frodo defy the Nazgul when they had him cornered. He saw Frodo willingly volunteer to take on the world’s worst burden and carry it for thousands of miles. He saw Frodo stab a troll’s foot. He saw Frodo tame Gollum. He saw Frodo face Shelob defiantly with Sting and the light of Eärendil. He saw Frodo cut through dozens of webs and free them from the lair. He saw Frodo resist the Ring longer than anyone in Middle-earth ever could. He saw Frodo persevere and keep walking and climbing even as all his energy was depleted.

Sam saw all this. And he realized “If Frodo can be that resilient, amidst all this horror, then I can too. I can be brave like my dear master.”

Sam’s been used to the simple life. He didn’t ask for any of the hell they went through. But Frodo made him want to be strong. Nobody else would’ve inspired Sam with such transformative love as to make him forget all his fear and charge Shelob herself, to storm Cirith Ungol all alone, to carry an adult hobbit on his back up a steep mountainside, to resist the freaking One Ring. But Frodo did.

And Sam wasn’t unaffected by any of this. He was terrified the whole time. He was traumatized for the rest of his life. Frodo had the worst trauma, yes, but never dismiss Sam’s trauma. He went through so much to save his soulmate and lost him anyway. He wasn’t enough to heal or cure Frodo from his wounds; he had to let Frodo leave to find his healing elsewhere, and live six full decades without him. He was able to move on enough to live a normal life, but that does not change the fact that he went through so much horror and loss that he could never 100% recover from, the worst of which were just the sights of Frodo in danger. Think of how many nightmares he must’ve had, how many nights Rosie had to sacrifice her own sleep to comfort and soothe him.

Contrary to what is apparently a common belief, Sam did not walk away unscathed from this. None of the hobbits did. Yes, Frodo had it the worst, that’s beyond question, but that doesn’t mean the others didn’t have lingering pain, especially Sam.

And if you think about it, would all of his incredible qualities - loyalty, resilience, stout-heartedness - been apparent if he’d never left the Shire? If he hadn’t gone with Frodo? Or even if he’d followed someone else? No.

Sam never went around proving his immense courage and strong will every day in Hobbiton. Shire life never allowed him to learn what he was capable of. It was Frodo who did that, who brought out his true self, who made him want to be those things. Nobody else could’ve done that for Sam. And there’s a good chance that Sam would never have done what he did for anyone else at that time. It had to be Frodo.

[winterinhimring]

For the WIP adaptation game. I'll let you pick which one you want to talk about.

🪩—Would you want a movie adaption, TV, or something else? Animated or live action?

✅—Which character/plot point/etc would be your favorite to see on screen?

❌—What’s the worst thing an adaption of your WIP could do? Your absolute worst nightmare?

Bold of you to assume I won't just answer all of them! I think I'm going to answer them for WOTR, though, since I don't really have any WIPs under active construction right now. I hope you don't mind. ;-)

🪩—Would you want a movie adaption, TV, or something else? Animated or live action?

I think that The War of the Ring would probably work best as a miniseries. Maybe two or three seasons? It's not as long as The Lord of the Rings proper, but that's partly because I skipped over action that didn't change from the books, which an adaptation would need to show. Also, there's just a lot that happens. (Incidentally, that also happens to be the format I think would work best for a LOTR adaptation.)

✅—Which character/plot point/etc would be your favorite to see on screen?

Unquestionably, Maedhros. Any scene involving glowing Maedhros, especially, but above all, the scene of him chewing out the Nazgul in Quenya. Or scaring the Witch-King of Angmar's invisible pants off.

Second place goes to Boromir's speech before the siege.

❌—What’s the worst thing an adaption of your WIP could do? Your absolute worst nightmare?

Hmm...I think it would be making the Feanorians into superheroes. Which sounds weird, coming right after my answer to the last question, but when I was writing the story, I was careful to stay true to the original in spirit, which meant that however epic I decided to make the battles and however powerful I made the elves, they had to, ultimately, remain a big shiny distraction to keep Sauron's attention off of Frodo and Sam. I also tried to make it clear that they weren't there to fight the war against Sauron for the free peoples of Middle-Earth, but to help them fight that war themselves. I think it would be easy for an adaptation to fall into the trap of making the Sons of Feanor into some kind of Avengers-esque team that comes in to save Middle-Earth. And I love the Avengers, but that's not the story I wrote, and if that was the story that ended up on screen, I think the adaptation would totally miss the point of the original story, which was that making the distraction bigger and shiner did help save lives, but ultimately, the fate of Middle-Earth still came down to the hobbits.

Thank you very much for sending these! It was fun to come up with the answers. (Ask game is here.)

[sunnyrosewritesstuff]

Bagginshield Drabbles and Collections

FOLLOWER EVENTS

Bagginshield Trope Bingo

Blacksmith Thorin- Thorin is happy to finally return to the Shire, but finds that tragedy struck his favorite hobbit in his absence.

Reshirement- Bilbo gets increasingly irritated with his relatives as he prepares for his 111th birthday, and Thorin is convinced they are ready for one more adventure.

Second Chances- Thorin awakens in Afghanistan suddenly remembering his past life and how much Bilbo meant to him only to learn Bilbo is a prisoner of war.

30+3

Paranoid, book, uncle- Frodo reads Bilbo's book and becomes paranoid that Uncle Thorin won't return.

Winter, letter, revealing- Worried about the fact that Bilbo still hasn't awoke after the battle, Thorin writes to Gandalf for answers. (Incomplete)

All About Bilbo from the POV of...

Balin- Bilbo is described by a friend on how he makes an ideal consort for Thorin.

Bofur- Bilbo is described by someone who loves him, but Bilbo is in love with someone else. (Unrequited Boffins)

Thorin- Bilbo is described by his first date as Thorin and Bilbo become frustrated with each other until it finally is released.

99 Problems But Our Love Ain't One

A Family Dinner Gone Awry- Prompt #11: Bilbo and Thorin discover the nature of some of the Company's bets

Do You Play Golf, King of the Goblins?- Prompt #17: The Goblins recognize Bilbo as a Took.

Give Floating a Try- Prompt #23: Bilbo's aversion to water comes out way before the barrel scene.

The Promise of After- Prompt #24: Bilbo's cold flares up in Laketown.

Most Valuable Treasure in Erebor- Prompt #25: A king's ransom is used against Thorin...only it's Bilbo who is revealed.

An Ill-Timed Giggle- Prompt #26: Bilbo laughed during sex once and now Thorin is paranoid. (NSFW)

Living the Hobbit Way- Prompt #29: Bilbo and Thorin have a fight over tea, and Prompt #82: Thorin finds some questionable objects in Bag End and needs to ask Bilbo what they are for. (NSFW)

Every Wedding Has a Few Disasters- Prompt #34: Every wedding has something that goes wrong. Bilbo and Thorin's was no exception as one of the grooms goes missing; and Prompt #72: It's been weeks since Bilbo and Thorin have been able to be intimate (NSFW)

A Lesson Carved in Stone- Prompt #44: Fili and Kili have gotten in trouble by finding Mahal's Anvil.

No Small Amount of Courage- Prompt #53: The goldsickness (has believe to have) made an appearance in other dwarves in the mountain.

Nori Needs a Burglar- Prompt #64: Being a sneaky, former burglar, Nori needs Bilbo to pull some spy work for him.

The Love of Mahal's Children- Prompt #73: A previous admirer of Bilbo's returns; and Prompt #66: The mountain is rather big and Bilbo gets lost...a lot.

A Golden Nightmare- Prompt 99: Bofur leaves for a few weeks/months and when they come back they act...possessed.

SOS

Behind the Money- Tea Shop AU; Bilbo is left a surprisingly large tip by his customer crush.

And Watch Them Grow- Post-BOTFA AU; Thorin leaves Bilbo unconscious on the mountain to get help, but doesn't get far before passing out himself.

Dwalin Guards Thorin's Heart- Bodyguard Dwalin; Thorin asks Dwalin to guard Bilbo; he didn't realize how much trouble that was going to be

Learning What It Means to Be You- Bodyswap AU; Bilbo and Thorin have somehow switched bodies, and discover some things about each other in the process

My Love is a Language for You to Interpret- Interpreter AU; Bilbo has been Thorin's interpreter for years and gets jealous when he goes on a "date".

Chasing Dreams- Knights AU; Bilbo, the oldest squire, finally gets picked by Sir Thorin the Oakenshield.

FELLOWSHIP OF THE FICS EVENTS/PROMPTS

Wednesday/Weekend Word Plays

Alphabet Game- Child Bilbo meets child Thorin, Frerin, and Dis as they decide to explore the Shire together.

Inspired By- Fanfic of @lordoftherazzles fic Bookbinder//Songwriter. (NSFW)

Switch POV- Excerpt from Chapter 1 of Guardian of Kings from Thorin's POV.

They were roommates...- Thorin gets jealous of 'friends-with-benefits' Bilbo/Bofur.

What If?- What if Bilbo had been transformed into an old hobbit instead of a baby hobbit in Rivendell?

Sweet & Spicy Bingo

Soulmates- Being born mute, Bilbo has trouble letting his soulmate know that it's his voice he hears.

Toys- Bilbo has a dream where Thorin is taking him down to a dungeon below Erebor to have some fun. (NSFW)

March Madness

Bonding in the Forge- For the prompt "are you aware that it's actually ON FIRE?", Dis takes Bilbo into the forge to teach him to smith per dwarven courting traditions.

A Form of Flattery- For the prompt "I left you alone for two minutes", Fili, Kili, and Bilbo are in charge of hunting for the evening...so they make a rabbit trap.

Modern May Mash-Ups

Road Trip + Professor/Teacher + “Don’t you remember? We used to do that in school all the time.”

Fake Date + Chef + “Are you in trouble?”

Drunk/Night Out + Driving Instructor + "Maybe you need to focus more on your life and less on mine!"

Raising a Child + Pickpocket + “Am I under arrest, or not?”

Band + Carpenter + “Well? What happened? I want all the details!”

Summer Stories

Take Me Out to the Ball Park- Bilbo and Thorin are harassed by a group of trolls at the game, but they get what they deserve.

Fictober

Blood Moon- Bilbo's transformation seems to be effecting him differently during the blood moon (A Mother's Curse ficlet)

Superstitions- Madoc and Durin have made some major superstitious faux pas' in each other's cultures. (Soul Traitor ficlet)

OTHER GAMES/CHALLENGES

All Ships Ship Week

Bruise and Batter My Heart- Domesticity/Whump/"Who did this to you"

Happy Hobbit Spring

Golf- Thorin thinks this Took competition is some sort of battle. He's in for a big surprise.

Hugs & Kisses

Sickly Cuddles- Thorin hugs Bilbo close while he suffers from a cold.

Sleepy Words- Bilbo wakes Thorin up to an onslaught of sweet words.

Holding Hands at Beorn's- Dwalin gives Thorin the nudge needed to talk to Bilbo and hold his hand.

Worried Kisses- Thorin comes home thinking his hobbit would be angry and instead gets kissed.

Touch Asks

Feeling for Each Other in the Dark- After being trapped in a cave-in, Bilbo learns that Thorin's vision might not be as good as it used to be.

Piggy Back Hugs- Bilbo is having the worst hangover of his life, but that might change when he sees Thorin's text that morning.

Trick or Treat

Sword Fight (Treat)- After Azog and the Carrock, Thorin feels he needs to teach Bilbo to fight.

Cavern Oasis (Treat)- Thorin leads Bilbo down below Erebor where he has a surprise for him.

Thorin's First Flight (Treat)- Inspired by How to Train Your Dragon, Bilbo and Smaug take Thorin for a flight.

Flower Crowns (Treat)- Bilbo decides to go for it and gift Thorin his flower crown.

Picnics and Laughter (Treat)- Bilbo and Thorin enjoy a nice picnic together on the mountainside.

Try It? (Treat)- Bilbo makes some tasty treats with the freshly picked blueberries, but Thorin may be hesitant to try it.

Driving Me Crazy (Treat)- Bilbo gets very turned on by Thorin picking him up. (NSFW)

Hands (Treat)- Bilbo notices the differences between him and the dwarves and how much he likes them.

By the Firelight (Treat)- Bilbo wakes up from the storm and has a conversation with Thorin in Laketown.

His Tail (Treat)- Thorin becomes fascinated with Bilbo's tail.

Scratching an Itch (Treat)- A/B/O Bagginshield (NSFW)

Bed Play Too Far (Trick)- Bilbo and Thorin are playing bedroom games and Bilbo pushes just a little too far. (NSFW)

It Was Only a Dream (Trick)- Bilbo thinks Thorin is forcing him to leave Erebor, only to wake up and discover the reality is worse.

No Escape from the Dragon (Trick)- Bilbo is running for his life as he is chased by the dragon with the face of a loved one.

Set Off (Trick)- Bilbo starts to have a panic attack and Thorin comes to comfort him.

Starving (Trick)- The dwarves haven't noticed Bilbo has been starving himself on the quest.

Tropetember

I Didn't Know I Loved You- Bilbo and Thorin have secret alter egos- they’re both in love with the wrong identity.

Thoughts of You- Bilbo hits his head and can suddenly hear the thoughts of people around them - but only when those people are thinking about him. That’s unfortunately bad news for Thorin.

Year of Bagginshield

Admist the Snowfall- First Kiss/Fake Dating

Temporarily in Different Worlds- Long Distance/Mermaid

Acceptance Before Forgiveness- Road Trip/Getting Back Together

Peace Talks- University/Pranks

From the Seed of a Sunflower- Fantasy (Thumbelina AU)/Flower Language

Through the Pouring Rain, I'll Find You- Soulmate/Accidental Confession

Seeing Stars- Enemies to Lovers/Power Swap

A Storm is Coming- Time Travel/Blind Date

The Revealed Truth of an Unchanged Feather- Arranged Marriage/Wings

RANDOM DRABBLES

The Dragon's Dentist- Bilbo walks into his next appointment to find the patient is a 14 foot tall, clinically depressed dragon with a gambling addiction. Only problem is he's a dentist.

One More Escape- Prison AU + Time Loop: Bilbo has been stuck in Mirkwood for a long time, and no matter what he does, he just recycles back before the spiders. He thinks he might just give up, but Thorin isn't going to let him.

The Yellow Socks- aka the day Thorin decided to be super dramatic

Bilbo and Thorin Feel a Kick- Fanfic of @ragsweas fic When the Sun Rises (mpreg)

[pherryt]

Chapter 2 - One Does Not Simply Walk into Mordor (Zoro - LOTR)

Word count: 4536

I think I did a fairly good explanation - both in the original authors note, and in the first of these posts - on how this fic got started, and it was absolutely Mordor that was the spark. So I won't repeat all that, HOWEVER, it certainly goes a long way to explain how this wound up being the *longest* of all the chapters.

I also took advantage of having an actual wizard to take care of a piece of logistical nightmare, so there was definitely some setup necessary in this chapter that will carry through into the others. Also, this is where Zoro floats his theory about WHY this is happening, though we won't get confirmation till the end.

Also, i just loved the idea of Ryoga/P-Chan chomping on Zoro's ears to use them like reins to direct him around, but of course, Zoro's incapable of following directions. Instead, they canceled each other out and still went the right way.

Teaser: 

(Fighting orcs)

“Tch, wasn’t even a challenge,” Zoro grumbled, putting his swords away again. Even Ryoga had managed to take some out, despite being a tiny pig. He was a pretty formidable guy, even if he was unwilling to kill. From the little Zoro had gathered about Ryoga’s world, killing wasn’t really an option there. Zoro had a feeling that Ryoga would be even more dangerous if he took that leash off himself. Still, it was impressive that he was that dangerous even with the leash on.

“C’mon, let’s catch up with Sam and Frodo,” Zoro said. Ryoga gave him a narrow look. “What, did you want to make friends with the orcs? They look like they’d try to eat you first. Or did you just want to wander around aimlessly for a while?”

Ryoga huffed, then jumped on Zoro’s shoulders again. Looking around quickly, Zoro tried to remember which way the other two had gone. “Uh, this way right?” He pointed to the left of the mountain. Ryoga bit his right ear and Zoro pointed in that direction instead. “That way?” He nodded. “Right.” Then went straight towards the mountain instead.

[apoloadonisandnarcissus]

I might be one of the few fans who don’t really see how Galadriel was sidelined in Season 2. Her connection with Nenya and her growing into her ring-bearer role was such a huge plot throughout the season, as well as her connecting to other races of Middle-earth, namely the Orcs. She’s also starting to understand she can’t possibly fight Sauron alone (which was her character arc in Season 1 and Season 2).

The show is called “Rings of Power”, Galadriel is the keeper of one of those rings of power. There is no way she can be sidelined, because she’s at the core of the story. The fact she’s not doing direct battle doesn’t change that.

If you are expecting Season 1 Galadriel moving forward, I’m afraid you’ll end up disappointed because that’s not her character arc in Tolkien lore during the Second age. The problem here is they moved her First age character to the Second age, and it’s creating a bunch of problems story-wise and a process that should last a few centuries looks instantaneous.

There are so many Galadriel plots the show hasn’t dealt with yet and it has nothing to do with Lothlórien. I see many fans worrying about her founding it and staying there barefoot and pregnant in Season 3. I don’t see any TV show, in this day and age, doing that to a female lead, even if and when Celeborn returns. And we know he will, because the showrunners confirmed it last year, we just don’t know when, so it can be Season 3, 4 or 5.

And this is why I don’t think we’ll see Celebrían on the show (maybe pregnant Galadriel in the epilogue or something). The elves are at war with Sauron, and will be until the end of the show. Everyone likes the bring up the legendarium, except for the fact Elves don’t have children during wartime. Celebrían was suppose to be born already during the show’s timeline, because she was born before the War of the Elves and Sauron (which started in Season 2 and will continue in Season 3), and we have the War of the Last Alliance next (Season 5):

We still have to see:

Galadriel growing into her political role (Lothlórien is not only a safe haven from evil, but a policial center, too); we already saw her as a commander and a war strategist, but the political side of her character has yet to be explored by the show;

Galadriel’s powers: she has telepathic powers (in the lore she uses them to talk to Frodo and Elrond); she can see into other beings’ minds, too. Her magical artifacts (mirror, phial, etc.) will probably be during the Lothlórien arc, though;

I would love for the show to explore her connection with the Dwarves (to connect to her gifting three strands of her hair to Gimli on the Third age);

I really want her to meet Gandalf, and explore the beginning of that friendship;

Actually my biggest concern about Galadriel in Season 3, and if blood binding theory is correct, is the show giving us some weird “Exorcist” stuff, with her being locked up somewhere for her “own protection” against Sauron. This would be absolutely awful, and I hope they don’t go there.

Sure, give me Galadriel wrecking stuff up with her new found powers. The show can even give me “Samara Morgan Galadriel” Peter Jackson style and other characters terrified of her, but do not lock her up, please.

The wisest way to approach “blood binding” is following the Harry Potter-Voldemort route (ironic); with nightmares, visions and access to Sauron’s mind and plans, and vice-versa. Galadriel is tormented by it but goes about her everyday life, pretending everything’s fine, until the climax of the season.

And enough of her feud with Elrond; he’s the Sam to her Frodo in the Galadriel/Frodo parallel the show is doing. His character needs to be supportive of Galadriel, and her emotional rock like Sam was to Frodo.

[vesselmade]

" i swear i didn't fall asleep , " yuji insisted, rubbing his eyes as he glanced at the screen. he hadn't realized just how long the lord of the rings trilogy was when he suggested it. the first movie alone was nearly three hours, and as he saw frodo toss the ring, he knew he'd missed a lot. he stretched and then reached over to pull his boyfriend closer, planting a sloppy kiss on megumi's forehead. his scarred arms fumbled to hold him, hoping to distract from the fact that he had indeed slept through the entirety of the third movie. with a sigh , he gave in.

" we can just rewatch it , megs, " he says , peeking up with a wide grin. days like this were irreplaceable. nothing to worry about, no curses to fight. the nightmares had gotten better, and he felt like he was truly healing. with megumi by his side, anything seemed possible . . . even though it had only been a year. now wasn't the time to drift into such thoughts.

" c'mon , let's fix a snack , grab some sodas , and restart it, " / @denouemente

[dragon-saint]

Absolutely, though I think it's worth considering that the Valars' breach of their duty might be at least somewhat explicitly intended to be considered in a negative light, since he often touches on the idea that when the Highborn/Lords fail in their duties it falls on the smallfolk or lower stationed nobles to bear the burden and set the world to rights. I'm particularly thinking about Merry and Pippin in Rohan and Gondor, and about Faramir the second son contending with his ruling father's will, and about Samwise fighting Shelob and carrying Frodo when Frodo couldn't walk. I know it's dangerously tempting to ascribe everything in a text to the author's life experiences, but I do think JRRT's experiences in WW1 had a huge impact on his perspective, and WW1 is absolutely riddled with stories and trends of the people at the top failing in their duties and sending the normal folk to die in the worst ways imaginable, but it also had plenty of heroes both high and low that stood, and fought, and died, and lived for what they believed was right. I think that could definitely influenced his worldbuilding eg the Valar being distant, benificent, but ultimately flawed rulers, standing apart from the pain and struggles of the conflicts in the world, even when they directly caused them is a pretty apt analogy for the classical interpretation of the upper classes in this period by the upper middles classes and those upperclass people that directly experienced the horrors of war. Eru Illuvatar as an all-loving creator that is conspicuous by his almost total absence from his creation is also a pretty on-the-nose perspective of a Catholic trying to reconcile the idea of a loving god with the nightmares of the world around them in a war, it certainly resonated with me during my questioning phase when I was growing up, before I ditched the church entirely.

The Valar's mistake did not lie in seeing a possibility of good in Melkor. Rather, their mistake lay in not seeing the equal possibility of him remaining evil.

[tamurilofrivendell]

After Weathertop | Frodo x Reader

Pairing: Frodo x Reader

Summary: After Frodo gets stabbed on Weathertop, reader refuses to leave his side. After being healed, Frodo wakes from a nightmare and, as they have been throughout, reader is there to reassure him.

Content etc: Vague-ish description of fight, wound, etc. Nightmare. Comfort.

Prompt: 62: “It’s going to be okay.” from this list

requested by @almost-gabrielle​ ​

The morgul blade had pierced through his flesh before you had even had the chance to notice. In fact, it had seemed like Frodo vanished altogether before you were suddenly aware that he was hurt, his scream of pain alerting you to his current condition. The Nazgul had kept you pinned on the other side but then suddenly Aragorn had reappeared and was throwing himself in between them all, sword swinging.

You pushed yourself away from the stone wall which you had fallen beside and quickly rushed to Frodo’s side. Sam was there a moment before you but all you could really see was Frodo’s wound. The screams of the Black Riders filled your ears and time seemed to be moving strangely. Fast and slow all at once. Aragorn was suddenly at your side and you looked up in shock, suddenly realising that he had run the Ringwraiths off - for now.

When Aragorn said that Frodo’s wound was beyond his skill to heal, you sprang to your feet and rushed after him. “But there has to be something you can do! We’re too far from Rivendell!” You cried, your protest falling on deaf ears as the ranger just kept moving, urging everybody to run, to hurry. You ran with a frown on your face, fear in your heart, and your legs working to keep up with Aragorn, loath to be too far from Frodo.

When, finally, you all had to stop and Aragorn lay Frodo down on the grass, you were right there. At his side. Clutching his hand and trying to talk to him but it was almost like he couldn’t hear you. He wasn’t looking at you the same way that he usually did. Every so often, though, you thought you saw recognition in his eyes, but it was there and gone again so quickly, giving way for his pain and suffering to bleed back through.

“What’s happening?!” You cried, but the answer you received was not comforting. Passing into the shadow realm? A wraith? A shudder cut through you.

It seemed like you were all there forever, the screeching of the Nazgul in the background searching for you all - for the ring. Time was still passing strangely and you didn’t put it down to the shock you were surely suffering. Frodo could be dying right before your very eyes!

You heard Aragorn in the background asking Sam about athelas (or kingsfoil, as you better knew it by) and you finally turned to question Aragorn on the effects of it on Frodo’s condition. He seemed half offended by your need to even ask him and half understanding where the need to came from. They both ran off in search and your attention was once again firmly fixated on Frodo. Even Merry and Pippin whispering and keeping watch in the background didn’t fully draw your attention.

“It’s okay, Frodo...” You murmured, not bothering to tell him that you thought it was still too far for him to go. How could he hold on this long? You were all on foot and there was only so fast and far you could travel. Were you truly going to have to sit and watch him die? You did not think you could take it.

Suddenly, a new presence appeared in the clearing, and you forced your head to turn. An elf. An elf had just dismounted a large white horse. As you turned your head back, you watched Aragorn put some of the athelas in Frodo’s wound with a frown. It looked awful. Then suddenly he had swept Frodo up off the ground and was carrying him away from you.

“Hey!” You cried out, jumping to your feet and rushing after him.

He paid you no mind, deep in conversation with the she-elf. You could not understand the language but soon Frodo was up on the horse and it was clear that they were preparing to take him away. The elf was soon back on the horse but before anybody else could move, you had jumped forward and taken hold of the reins.

“Hey!” You said again, and this time everybody turned their attention towards you. “You are not taking him anywhere without me!”

Aragorn began to protest and Sam said your name quietly from behind but you just glanced over your shoulder and shook your head. “No!” You simply refused, and your grip on the reins tightened.

A spine chilling screech from far in the distance seemed to freeze your insides, the reality of the danger of the Black Riders once more crashing down upon you.

The elf said something to Aragorn, her words hurried, almost panicked. ‘I can carry two,’ she had said. Then suddenly, Aragorn had lifted you up into place on the large horse and, without another word, the horse was moving. Fast. You heard your friends shout out from behind you but you were once more fixated upon Frodo.

You had thought that the journey to Rivendell would be easy enough, but the Ringwraiths found you easily enough, chasing at the heels of the she-elf’s horse like rabid dogs. A few times, you thought you were all done for, but the horse proved swift and soon enough, the wraiths were washed away and you had finally come to Rivendell.

It turned out that the elf on the horse was Arwen, Lord Elrond’s daughter. Frodo was whisked away from you and another elf practically forced you to go and bathe but you did it in rapid time and returned to linger in the doorway to the healing room where Elrond was carefully working on Frodo’s wound. They wouldn’t let you any closer, much to your frustration, and much to some of theirs when you refused to go anywhere else.

After, when Frodo was lying in that large bed, you were practically glued to the chair directly beside him. Not even Gandalf or the arrival of the rest of your friends convinced you to move. You just wanted Frodo to open his eyes and you could not close yours until he did.

He was out for three days and four nights. You truly thought something had gone wrong and that Elrond had not been able to fully heal him. That the blade had done too much damage.

Then, extremely late on the fourth night, Frodo finally opened his eyes. Your joy was shortlived as the first thing he did was start screaming. Screaming and thrashing at the remnants of a nightmare.

It didn’t take you long to figure out that he was reliving the horror that he had suffered on Weathertop. After springing up from your chair in surprise and sort of standing frozen for a few long seconds, you moved and held your arms out to steady him, gently holding on to his forearms to try and stop him thrashing.

“Frodo! Frodo, you’re dreaming!” You exclaimed, not entirely sure what to do so you simply held him carefully until he calmed somewhat. “It was just a dream!”

“No!” Came his fearful reply, his eyes wide as he shook his head. “It wasn’t.”

Tears filled his eyes as he looked back at you. He was right. It wasn’t a dream. It was a memory. It had happened, you were there. He had been cornered and stabbed and... gods! That thing made him a target!

“Hey...” You said gently, watching as he slowly came back to himself, but you could see the fear and the pain still in his eyes. “Come on, lie back down.” You urged softly, helping him to lie back again.

Frodo sighed as his head hit the pillow but he was loath to close his eyes again in case the dream came back. You had been in the room since he had been healed and this had been the first time you’d witnessed anything of the sort so you hoped it was a one off.

Regardless, you decided to sit on the edge of the bed instead of moving back to the chair. He didn’t object, in fact he seemed to reach for you. You took hold of his hand and gave it a gentle, reassuring squeeze.

“You should try and get a little more sleep, Frodo.” You told him quietly, watching his eyes lift back to your face. He almost seemed to relax a little more as he looked at you.

He nodded in agreement, resigning himself to the fact that his body was screaming out for at least a few more hours rest. You were just about to stand from the bed when his grip on your hand tightened and he murmured your name.

“Stay with me.” He said.

You blinked at him and then nodded, smiling as you carefully settled yourself back against the cushions beside him. “Of course I will.”

Frodo shifted a little closer to you and a silence settled over the both of you as you sat there. Glancing towards the window, you noted that morning was still some hours away. When you turned back to look at Frodo, his eyes were wide open.

“Frodo...” You said softly, drawing his attention again. “It’s going to be okay.” You told him soothingly, leaning in to give him a careful hug, keeping clear of the area of his wound. “Sleep... please. I am right here.”

He managed the briefest of smiles and nodded as he hugged you back with one arm and then, finally, forced his eyes to close. He didn’t say it, but your presence there beside him gave him a great amount of comfort. When you leaned back, he caught hold of your hand again and you settled, staying close enough to him to feel the warmth of his body. It seemed to calm him and, after a while, he drifted back off to sleep beside you.

Whatever the morning would bring, you hoped that you hadn’t just lied to him. You hoped that it really, truly, would be okay.

[tathrin]

Been doing some world-building for the Gimli Dark Lord of Erebor AU, and I think I have the general background events figured out at last. Anyone want to read way too many sloppily-written words of backstory for this unhinged canon-divergence nightmare fic? Boy are you in luck if so!

Note that any of this is subject to change until and unless actually directly referenced in the fic itself. This is very much proto-rough-draft stuff right now, just sort of brainstorming-via-prose. (Also obviously potential spoilers abound, in the sense of “things that have already happened but haven’t been revealed or discussed by the characters,” although it does stop some considerable amount of time before the day the story actually opens.) But I know there are a few folks who’ve expressed interest in knowing more about this AU, and I would love to know people’s thoughts on what I’ve come up with so far. Especially if you see a logistical issue or plot-hole that needs to be paved!

Also it’s probably less than wholly coherent (this was largely typed on my phone at work, shhh), but do let me know if you hit any part that’s just completely unfathomable and I’ll try to clarify it.

Anyway...

We start with Boromir taking the One Ring from Frodo on Amon Hen. He runs off in something of a panic (at this point in his own mind he sees himself as too far gone to do anything else, and the Ring runs with that—they'd never forgive you now!—and he goes racing off pell-mell), unaware that the others are about twenty minutes away from being ambushed by uruk-hai—although it is that fight which will give him the necessary lead-time to escape.

Frodo was injured (hand broken, knocked out) in the struggle over the Ring. The others find him after the orc fight just waking up, having been hidden by his cloak from the battle. Aragorn tends his wounds while Legolas and Gimli search for Merry and Pippin; can't find them. The others join the search: nothing. Too much ground, too many footprints, too few clues. They search for hours, but—but the Ring gets farther away with every minute. They must pursue it, must pursue Boromir. But to do so means abandoning Merry and Pippin who may or may not even be alive. What do they do?

Sam of course wants to keep looking, but will defer to Frodo. Frodo would like to search more, but his duty (and the Ring) tug at him to chase Boromir, even though all he wants to do is find his friends and make sure they're all right. Loyal Gimli of course is aghast at the idea of abandoning his friends until he knows for sure that they are dead; Legolas, warrior of Mirkwood, understands both the stakes and the bitterness of such sacrifice all too well, and votes to do what they must and chase the Ring. Aragorn is torn…but duty to the Quest wins in the end, at least in part because he is sure that they must be dead already and their hacked bodies lying somewhere in the brush of Amon Hen. (They are not: they are being carried into Rohan on the backs of uruk-hai. They will escape to Fangorn, and the Ents, and join the march to Isengard. But their friends will not come there to find them. They will not see the Fellowship again.) 

The rest chase Boromir, but they are too far behind. They will not catch him. The Ring will go to Gondor, and to Denethor, and hope will not come again to the White City.

Gandalf will go to Edoras alone. He will meet Merry and Pippin in Fangorn, but the rest of the Fellowship will not know that he returned until the moment when he leaves again. In Meduseld, he will pull Théoden out from Saruman's spell, and at the Hornberg he will bring Erkenbrand to save the survivors of Helm's Deep as they huddle in the keep beneath the unflinching assault of the White Hand. Éomer is dead, with no dwarf there to save him. Théoden lives, but as a broken man: he lost his son and he lost his nephew, and he could not save his people, but rather had to be pulled from the trap of his walls by saviors led by the White Wizard. It does not matter: his death will find him on the plains outside the White City regardless.

But before that: Boromir arrives in Minas Tirith on March 2nd. Théoden has just been healed; the Entmoot has not yet concluded. The rest of the Fellowship are at most two days behind Boromir. Aragorn, Gimli, and Legolas could ostensibly travel faster than him, but they have two Hobbits to bring with them, one of whom was injured, and they lingered long in search of Merry and Pippin; also the Ring, far from being a burden that drags at his feet as it does with Frodo, speeds his steps and strengthens him when he might otherwise seek rest, because he is doing what it wants. They have made good time, but not good enough to overtake him; not good enough to stop him.

Gandalf, as a Ringbearer, senses the moment that Denethor claims the One Ring…and so does Frodo.

"Wait," he cries, staggering to a halt. He drops to his knees clutching his head, his heart; trying to clutch his very soul. His shoulder burns like ice. "Wait," he says, "it's too late."

Aragorn stares at him in horror. "Sauron has the Ring?"

"No," Frodo says. "Someone else…a Man, I think. A tall Man, he looks old. He feels very old. I don't think he is, though. I think he…I think he is someone very important. Not a king, but something like a king, I think," he says, and Aragorn sinks to the ground beside the Hobbit. His face is gray and grim. Frodo tries to offer him a reassuring smile out of instinct, but he cannot quite manage it; instead his face curls in a thoughtful frown. "He reminds me of you, a little, Strider," Frodo continues, "but…but not, also. Very much not like you, in some ways, I think. But I saw a White City, and a dead tree, and the Ring was on his hand, and…and it is his. Aragorn, the Ring is his."

"Denethor, " Aragorn says, and his voice is a lament. He bows his head. "Alas for Gondor, then, for Denethor has claimed the One Ring."

"What does that mean?" Legolas asks. "What do we do next?"

"What can we do?" Aragorn shrugs, and stands, and he looks older than he ever has as he turns his face south towards Minas Tirith. "The choice has been taken from us. Now all that is left is to stand with Gondor in the war that will come, or flee before Sauron's victory."

"But Gondor cannot defeat him," Gimli says.

"No," says Aragorn. "They cannot. But I will pledge them my sword nonetheless."

In the end, they all decide to go on with heavy hearts to Minas Tirith. Denethor welcomes them with smiles and poorly-concealed suspicion. (He does not want them here, but it is better to have them under his eye, where he is the one in control.) Boromir swaggers to cover his feelings of shame. (He does not want them here; he does not manage quite to meet their eyes.) Faramir is fascinated by the Halflings especially, and it is he who manages to coax the truth out of Frodo and Sam about exactly how Boromir really got his hands on the One Ring. (He is grieved, but less surprised than he wishes he was; Faramir knows his brother, and he knows furthermore that he has been acting strangely since he returned from Rivendell. This truth explains much.) 

The Beacons have now been lit, although it will be some days before Rohan arrives, if they can come at all; if they had come sooner, perhaps Gandalf would have stopped Aragorn and Frodo from passing the gates of the White City and placing themselves in Denethor's power. But Gandalf was not there, and his friends still think him dead. So Aragorn and Frodo enter Minas Tirith, but they do not bring hope with them when they do. Denethor is already lost to the Ring, and to the visions of glory and dominion that it feeds him.

Sauron, of course, also knew the moment someone claimed his Ring. So Mordor marches to war against Minas Tirith…but Sauron is not committed to this war. He knows where the real battle is being fought, and he has already decided that he will win it by agreeing to lose. This is merely the necessary process to make his surrender convincing. So he sends an army, and Minas Tirith fights, and the Maker of the One Ring strives in his mind against the Master of the One Ring, and Aragorn can do nothing to stop Denethor from dooming them all.

Boromir rides at the head of Gondor's army, and Aragorn rides beside him with Andúril in hand, and the people whisper; but Aragorn makes no move to claim the kingship. Gondor's army stands against Mordor, but slowly they are pushed back to the gates of the White City. Their lines are beginning to falter on the third day of battle when dawn finally breaks to show the Riders of Rohan coming up over the grass, the Grey Company (who came to Rohan seeking Aragorn, and found Théoden instead, and were persuaded by Gandalf that the most likely place to find Aragorn will be Gondor) with them—but there are many orcs yet, and the Corsairs of Umbar are coming up the river, too, and there are Nazgûl flying out of the east towards the battlefield. Three of them converge on Théoden—but it is not the king they seek, but rather the counselor riding beside him: Gandalf Greyhame, wielder of the Ring of Fire.

Gandalf yells for Rohan's forces to flee from these foes which are beyond their strength. Many do; Théoden stays. He masters the bitter fear the Nazgûl bring and defends Gandalf from their blades, until one pierces his shoulder. He goes down to his knees with a cry, and still he raises his blade one last time…and so he dies beside the wizard when Gandalf uses all the power within him to destroy the three Nazgûl Lords and a goodly portion of the armies around him, too.

The surviving Rohirrim are rallied by a young soldier they knew as Dernhelm, who throws off her helmet and reveals herself to be Éowyn of the House of Eorl. With tears streaming down her cheeks, she leads her people back into battle. They follow her with a roar and the strength of their spears and shields sends many orcs of Mordor running.

Then Denethor stands on the battlements and holds his hand aloft in a blaze of fiery light, and he commands the forces of Mordor to cower before him. And they do.

It is in that moment that Aragorn knows hope is lost. 

The battle ends with most of the orcs slain, the rest fleeing either back to Mordor or into the wild. The Easterlings and Corsairs are taken prisoner, or strike out on a desperate flight for their distant homes. (Denethor will deal with them, he decides, once his business with Sauron is finished; for now, let them flee.) Aragorn walks alone through the ashes of the Wizard's fall, which none other will dare brave. He retrieves the Rings left behind by Gandalf's inferno and takes Narya for his own: not because he wants to, but because he trusts no other there to wield it, and he does not believe that it will be left unclaimed if he does not. He means to bring it to Rivendell, and to give it to Elrond to bestow upon one of his advisors (most likely Glorfindel, he thinks; Glorfindel would be a good choice for that Ring, if he can brace himself to face fire on such close terms once again)…

But Denethor does not approve. He demands all the Rings; Aragorn refuses to give him any. He says that those of the Ringwraiths were born by Kings of Men once, and while they do not know which kings Gandalf burned, still Aragorn has thus the closest claim to those Rings than anyone there, for he is descended from Kings of Men, including some who once ruled Númenor and were lured into becoming Ringwraiths by Sauron's words. He will not give up those Rings; and as for Narya, he will return it to the elves, for it was an elvish ring before it was gifted to the Wizard.

Denethor declares that he is the Master of all the Rings now, and Aragorn will hand them over; Aragorn refuses. They match wills, and for a moment seem almost evenly matched: Denethor has the One Ring, which was built to command all the others, but Aragorn is mightier than Denethor, and he has not worn his spirit low contending with Sauron, and the Three were never fully dominated by the Dark Lord. They are evenly matched, for a moment… Then while they strive, on Denethor's quiet command, Boromir murders Aragorn. (He is horrified, later, to realize that he struck from behind; horrified to realize that he slew a friend. But in the moment, all he could feel was the compulsion of the Ring and the bloodlust of his own fury that Aragorn would dare defy his father, the Steward who ruled the land which the descendants of the kings abandoned.) Denethor takes the four Rings in triumph, and he gives to Boromir the Ring of Fire still wet with Aragorn's blood.

The secret of Aragorn's death is one they will not keep for long, but for now, none know what happened in the great hall between the Steward and the man who might have been his king.

Meanwhile, Merry and Pippin are back at Edoras; they left Isengard with Gandalf and the Rohirrim, but were not carried to battle with the rest of their forces. Frodo and Sam have decided to go there to seek their friends, since they will be of little use in the battle at the Black Gates, they figure—but Denethor has something else in mind for the Hobbit who once carried the Ring. He asks Frodo to stay at his side while the end of the war is fought, and Frodo cannot find a polite way to decline and Sam will not leave Frodo's side. So they stay in Gondor, while the survivors of the army ride out to break the Black Gate and throw Sauron down from his Dark Tower.

Boromir, with Narya on his hand, leads their forces; Faramir, now wearing one of the Nine, rides with him. Legolas and Gimli notice that Aragorn is not with the army, and the Ring he briefly claimed is now worn by Boromir, and they are distressed—but what can they do? The war is here at hand, and there is no time for questions now (just as Denethor arranged, of course). The army rides to the Black Gates, and Sauron's forces pour forth to battle…

And then Sauron himself strides onto the field. Terror grips the forces of Gondor and Rohan…and then Sauron kneels. His Nazgûl kneel beside him. He surrenders his forces and offers himself a prisoner to Gondor; a prisoner to the Lord of the Rings.

No one wants to go near him, to touch him. Even bold Boromir quails, the Ring in his mind shrieking in terror of the maia who would have mastered it. Eventually it is Faramir who walks forward, and the sight of his little brother showing such bravery stirs Boromir's courage and he follows, and together the two Captains of Gondor take Sauron prisoner.

The army rides back to Minas Tirith in escort, while Faramir and a smaller force stay to claim and investigate Barad-dûr. One of the Nazgûl stays with them to play (terrifying) guide; the other three go back with Sauron as prisoners, although no one wants to bind them or go near them, and in the end they march back under their own power and by their own will, or at least that of their master, rather than under guard or bindings (three Nazgûl died to Gandalf and there are two currently stationed in Dol Guldur leading the war against Mirkwood, Dale, Erebor, and Lórien, so there were only four left in Mordor). Sauron is brought to Minas Tirith as a prisoner, but he walks in with a faint smirk on his face and his head unbowed, with three Nazgûl framing him in escort, and there are some who cannot help but think he looks more like a conqueror than a captive when he crosses through the white stone gates that once held back his Shadow and kneels politely before the Steward.

Sauron is no longer fair to look at, no; he lost that seeming in the wreckage of Númenor. But there is a grim beauty to his fell features nonetheless, the sort of cruel and regal beauty of hatred and power. He does not look fair, he does not look good—but he looks strong, to be sure. In a way, he even looks faintly kingly standing there before the unclaimed throne of the king. A tyrant of a king, yes; but a king, to be sure. It will be Sauron, in fact, who eventually convinces Denethor to claim that throne, since the kings will never be coming home now, and does not the Lord of the Rings merit a throne, even if he is not (never will be) a king?

It will also be Sauron who, having flattered the story out of Denethor, spreads the truth of what happened to their would-be king through the White City…although it will not be he who tells Faramir. That will be Boromir himself, in the cold hours one night, wracked with guilt and trying to invent excuses to lift the weight of it from his mind. Faramir will be horrified, but he will not speak out against his brother's actions then; he will have already learned, by then, when to keep silent under the weight of Denethor's dominion. There is a reason his father gave him a Ring, after all, and it was not because he thought Faramir deserved its power.

But that is later; for now, there are the few remaining members of the Fellowship to consider.

Frodo, having carried the Ring so far, has fallen under Denethor's sway. He will fall farther, soon: Denethor will gift him with the second of the three Nine Rings taken from the charnel of the battlefield, and will send him back west to rule the Shire and all its surrounding lands in Gondor's name. Sam will go with him, of course, because Sam is loyal and will remain loyal; even as Frodo falls deeper and deeper under the sway of the Ring, and becomes more and more of a wraith—more and more of a monster—at Denethor's hand, heartbroken Sam will always be loyal. Even as he grieves for what the Shire becomes under Frodo's increasingly merciless rule, and for the ever-growing distance and cruelty of his corrupted master, he cannot help but stay loyal.

Aragorn's friends and kinsmen do not know exactly what happened to him, but they know that some foul play must have been involved; they know, too, that their own lives are under threat in Gondor. They know too much, and their loyalty is not and has never been to Denethor. He is busy now with Sauron and with Frodo, but he will not stay busy forever. They need to go now, while they still can—but none of their attempts to politely take their leave are accepted, for while Denethor has more important things to deal with right now he also does mean to deal with them eventually, and intends to keep them cooling their heels in his city until he can spare them the proper attention. So he plans victory feasts, and pretends great grief at the notion of their parting, and says that they must stay until after Aragorn is laid in state in a great funeral as befits Isildur's Heir, and so on and so forth; one excuse after another after another, all fairly-couched and on the surface far too noble and justified to balk at. But they know it is a pretense, and they know they are running out of time.

(And Sauron is in the city, too. And if he is in chains…well, he has been in chains before. It did not stop him working evil then, and the Dúnedain know those stories well. They need to leave.)

So one night the survivors of the Grey Company leave Minas Tirith under cover of darkness. They go on foot for all that it pains the Dúnedain to abandon their loyal steeds, because they know they would not be able to sneak out with the horses. Legolas and Gimli go with them—or at least, Gimli was supposed to be with them. But Gimli stayed, because he feared that he would slow them down. Worse, he feared that he would slow Legolas down. He remembers how tireless the elf was during the pursuit of Boromir; remembers thinking that if Legolas had been unfettered by mortal limitations, he would have been able to outpace him, and perhaps all this would have gone differently. He thinks about the fact that Mirkwood is not so far to the north, and how Legolas could probably cover that distance in a little more than a week if he were alone; he thinks of how much slower he would go, if he had a dwarf in tow, and how likely that delay would get him killed, and so Gimli stays.

The rest of them disappear into the night in their grey cloaks, fading into the wilds as only those who walk with the light tread of Rangers or elven-kind might do.

Gimli begs the sons of Elrond to lie for him, and so it is not until they are many miles from the White City that Legolas discovers his friend did not come with them, and by then it is too late to go back—and even if he did, what would he do? Drag Gimli away with him? The dwarf chose to stay, and chose not even to say farewell. Well, that was his choice to make; Legolas cannot unmake it for him.

So Legolas returns to Mirkwood, bereft and bewildered by Gimli's betrayal, and throws himself into the doomed fight against the Shadow there. Galadriel did not throw down the walls of Dol Guldur, after all; she, too, knew the moment that Denethor claimed the One Ring for his own, and she knew what that would mean for Lothlórien. She and Celeborn did not lead their forces across the river to aid Thranduil; they stayed in their forest, and prepared for the end.

Without Lórien and Nenya to dwindle the forces of the Enemy, Erebor fared poorly in the war. The dwarves nonetheless held out long in the siege against the orcs and goblins of Mordor, but when Denethor sent forces from Gondor to aid the armies that had once been Sauron's and were now his, the dwarves thought that the Men were coming to their assistance. They sallied forth from the mountain, meaning to trap the orcs and goblins between the two armies…and were instead subjected to a vicious slaughter, as Mordor and Gondor fought side-by-side against them.

Denethor told Gimli, who had stayed in Minas Tirith with the thought that he would act as a delay on whatever pursuit would inevitable follow Legolas and the Grey Company, that his people's army has been decimated and the surviving dwarves are trapped in their mountain under a siege they have no hopes of either outlasting or escaping. He tells him that Dain is dead, and all the line of Durin, and every person living in the Lonely Mountain will be slaughtered if they continue to defy Gondor…or he can claim lordship of the mountain, and make peace with Gondor on Erebor's behalf, and so save them from destruction.

Gimli accepts the terms, because he sees no other choice. He accepts the Ring that Denethor insists he take (the Ring that once belonged to Durin, and which was reclaimed from Barad-dûr by Faramir's scouts, and brought to Denethor as Master of the Rings), if he is to be a vassal-lord of Gondor, for the same reason: he has not choice. He does what must be done, and he goes to Erebor, and he saves his people by damning them to Gondor's rule.

Dale was sacked and devastated, and Denethor declares it to be a vassal state of Erebor now, under the dominion of the dwarves. The farms of Dale deliver their crops to the Lonely Mountain, which disperses a share of the harvest back to them according to Denethor's will. Mirkwood belongs to the Nazgûl in Dol Guldur, but still has bands of elves in its trees, fighting and dying.

(As for Lórien…that story is told elsewhere.)

Merry and Pippin were in Edoras, and do not learn of what happened to everyone else until Queen Éowyn returns with the few survivors of Rohan's army. She will not be bound by a Ring yet, but in less than a year Denethor will demand more obsequience than he thinks Rohan is offering. (Partly this will be due to his own paranoia, earned under long years of striving against the Shadow with the palantir; part of this will be due to the bold temperament of Rohan in general and Éowyn in specific, and their dislike of all things that reek of the Shadow; the last part will be due to Sauron whispering in his ear, sowing division between the realms of Men.) Éowyn will be forced to take a Ring, the third of the three Nine Rings that was found in the ashes of Gandalf's death, and Rohan will now fall fully under Gondor's domination.

But that is later; for now, there is Saruman to consider. He slips out of Isengard, when the Ents tire of watching him. Knowing that he cannot oppose Gondor now that Denethor has claimed the One Ring and a victory over Sauron as well, he slips away to his fallback position in the Shire. That goes well enough for him, at first—but then Frodo and Sam come back from Gondor with a Ring on Frodo's hand and no mercy in his heart. Saruman does not know what to make of this quasi-wraith of a Halfling, and he makes the mistake of treating him like an ordinary Hobbit. Frodo is no longer someone who can be cowed, at least not by anything less than the One Ring itself: in his wrath at what the wizard has done to the Shire, he destroys Saruman using the power of his Ring, and so tips his soul entirely into its domination.

Sam remains loyal, though. Sam will always remain loyal to his Frodo.