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jessilynallendilla · 4 years

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To get through the quarantine here’s a super long list of Hobbit/LOTR/Silm fics

Let me know if links aren’t working and feel free to add more

(check the original post as I update the list)

Please read the tags before reading some have sensitive content/are unfinished

Kili/Tauriel Centric

Stolen Heir

Who is Kili's father? He doesn't know. Thorin doesn't know. Dis knows. She's not telling. What happens when he finds out that she left and didn't tell him she was carrying his son? Alternative Ending to BOFA. Family drama!

Paths in Starlight

Kili has never set foot in the magical land he was born in, but the search for a fallen star leads him beyond the Wall and into world of Arda. The star he finds is not what he'd thought she'd be, and Kili is pulled into an adventure that takes him over hill and through the air, joins a crew of Sky Pirates to help them aid their King, and finds out the truth about his family.

Take a Bow

Tauriel has been a prisoner in Erebor since returning a gravely-wounded Kili after the battle. Now finally she is permitted to stand before the Dwarven court and tell her truth; to save her life, to show why she wants to stay.

King Under the Mountain

Or the one where Kili survives the Battle of Fives armies but has to learn to live without his brother and uncle and to accept the throne.

All Those Who Wander

Kíli goes on a simple diplomatic trip to all the elf kingdoms. Of course, because Kíli’s involved, it quickly becomes anything but simple.

Dare You to Move

Each year since their victorious alliance, the respective Kings and Councilmen of Erebor, Dale, and The Woodland Realm gathered together in one of their great cities for the duration of five days. During this time they would spend the daylight hours debating and discussing the maintenance of their alliance, and then by night the people gathered together to celebrate. In the midst of the complex political negotiations, Prince Fili learns what it means to be a great King from the one person who just might be his Queen, while Kíli and Tauriel struggle to keep their illicit relationship hidden from those who would keep them apart.

Think of all the Places We Could Go

Kili woke, panting, to have his mother fuss over him and his brother sit and sharpen his swords on the chair adjacent to his bed. “Are we dead?” were the first words out of his mouth, prompting his brother to laugh and his mother to look at him strangely.

Silver Starlight, Burning Bright

Once upon a time, there was a hidden kingdom in the woods. There are not many stories of this hidden kingdom, as they were a secret and private people. There is one story, however, about a prisoner and jailer.

Erebor Restored

The Lonely Mountain is reclaimed. Thorin, Fíli, and Kíli recover from their wounds while Dáin makes himself at home.

Land of What Might Have Been

Five years after the Battle of the Five Armies, Fili sits on the throne as he struggles to help his family and his people. Kili is lost without his love, the elf maid Tauriel who was injured before the battle and disappeared. What becomes of a dwarf who has lost the love of his life?

Flowers Among the Fallen Leaves

Bilbo Baggins returned home in mourning after the Battle of the Five Armies. All of Middle-Earth knew that Thorin and his nephews had fallen in the battle. It seemed that all that was left to him was a quiet, lonely existence in his empty smial. Then fate in the form of a pregnant Silvan Elf came knocking at his door one night. Bilbo Baggins, it seemed, had never been meant for the quiet life.

A Frank Conversation (Is Easier Said)

He always loved making Tauriel laugh. For all the time Kili spent trying to understand the woman before him, he had come to cherish the moments of simplicity. There was nothing complicated about a laugh. Smiles were trickier, but laughter—that required no translation.

Waiting

Kili hasn't kissed her yet, and Tauriel doesn't know why.

Love is Never Wrong (Together We’ll Make it Right)

With a little help from a nosey wizard, things might just work out for a prince of Erebor and a Captain of the Mirkwood guard.

Beneath the Stars

After the Battle of Five Armies and the Slaying of Smaug, King Thranduil held a feast in honor—grudging honor, but honor nonetheless—for the King Under the Mountain. Tauriel had mixed feelings about this feast because it meant that Kili would be in attendance. There was a part of Tauriel that wondered if the connection they had formed was indeed some dream.

The Lesson of the Moth

The battle is over. Thorin Oakenshield, King Under the Mountain, is dead. His nephews still live, even if the life of one hangs in the balance. Tauriel too has survived, although what that means for her, she is not altogether sure. Choices are made, and promises are kept, though not without hardship. Sometimes the best course is to forge your own path, even if it takes you far from all you know.

Together Forever

Alternate ending to BOTFA. Kili and Tauriel are able to slay Bolg, but the battle leaves her badly injured. Further complication arise when King Thranduil blames the two for the death of his son and Kili is willing to lay down his own life to ensure her survival.

The Line of Durin

How do you build a new life when you're supposed to be dead? Three new royal tombs in Erebor, but two are empty. Kili, Fili, Bofur and Tauriel are on the move. Now what?

Starlight and Firemoon-Part 1

They walked in starlight, under a firemoon.

The Five Wives of Kili Durinson

The bride thought he understood. The groom thought he did too. Cultural misunderstandings abound. Now what?

So Comes Snow After Fire

In the weeks since the battle, Kili has kept his meetings with Tauriel secret. Yet when a fierce snowstorm looms, he would rather dare Thorin's displeasure than leave the exiled elf unsheltered on the mountainside. Once Tauriel enters Erebor, of course, it is only a matter of time before her feelings for the dwarven prince are discovered. And despite Kili's hope that there is a place in his life for all those he loves, he may soon have to decide whether his loyalties lie with his kindred or an elf.

Innikh Dê

In the aftermath of the Battle of the Five Armies, is there anyplace that will shelter an exhausted prince of Durin and an exiled Woodland Elf? Perhaps Lord Elrond's magical city of Imladris will offer Kili and Tauriel a haven as they prepare to have their first child. Or does the promise Kili made to his mother to return to her take precedence? In either case, Kili and Tauriel know the path won't be easy, but neither of them expected that so many Elves, Dwarves, Orcs, and Wargs, much less a wizard and a hobbit, would be on that path with them!

The Heir Apparent

Tauriel saves Kili's life during the Battle of the Five Armies and alters the course of history, forever.

Elf-Friends

After the Battle of Five Armies, Fíli is stuck running Erebor while his brother and uncle recover. However, things are somewhat mixed up with the arrival of Tauriel, banished from Mirkwood and carrying a secret. If Thorin can forgive Bilbo, though, surely he can be convinced to accept an elf?

In the Moonlight

Tauriel and Erebor

The Poison in Your Veins

She is guardian to a besieged and rotting dynasty, duty-bound and well served by her predator's instincts. He is one of Durin's Folk, hunters of renown until calamity destroyed much of the bloodline and cast the survivors from their home. Their descendents roam the land, carrying on the fight as best they can while hiding the secret that once made their kind so formidable.

A Promise Kept

He made a promise, and she returned it. But in trying to save Kíli's life, she caused his death. Or so Tauriel thinks until she returns to Erebor to throw herself on the mercy of her unborn child's only kin and discovers that sometimes love outlasts death. But can it remain unchanged by the harsh realities of life?

Spring After Winter and Sun on the Leaves

After their wedding, Tauriel and Kíli will share their most exciting adventure yet: raising a child. But blissfully happy as they are, becoming the parents of the world’s first dwelf isn’t easy. No one is certain a half-blood child is even possible, but prejudiced dwarves don’t want to let Kíli live to find out. As even darker forces take an interest in Kíli’s unusual heir, others are put danger, including Fíli and his bride, Sif. All Kíli and Tauriel want is to start a family, but they may end up having to save Erebor, too.

Marriage of Choice

Kili had always been the spare prince. Always been the Golden Heir's shadow and companion. He knew his purpose and place. After retaking Erebor, he's surprised and just how much his life changed because of it. Tauriel believed she would be captain of The Greenwood's guard for the rest of her life, expected to die in battle for her king. But she's been banished and everything has changed. Elves don't like change.

Bilbo/Thorin Centric

Finding Purchase

“What are you doing in here?” Thorin gestured around the audience-chamber as he approached, his half-smile obvious even at a distance. “I mean, my throne is yours if you want it, ghivashelê, you know that, but in the middle of the night?”

The Seven Gifts

Thorin had his crown off. This wasn’t an uncommon sight to Bilbo. Even though Fili had crafted his uncle a new crown, the weight of it still made him wary. Bilbo was not as used to seeing the dwarf’s hair gathered together in a braid that spilled over his shoulder. Or the spectacles perched on his regal nose. He would deny the ache of his heart in that moment.

Sansûkh

The battle was over, and Thorin Oakenshield awoke, naked and shivering, in the Halls of his Ancestors. The novelty of being dead fades quickly, and watching over his companions soon fills him with grief and guilt. Oddly, a faint flicker of hope arises in the form of his youngest kinsman, a Dwarf of Durin's line with bright red hair.

Battle of the Mind and the Heart

Thorin, Kili and Fili, and the others survived TBOTFA but Bilbo does not know this thinking Thorin died in his arms ...and now as the dwarves make the trek back to the shire to show their burglar that they are okay, the other hobbits of the shire have to deal with a rapidly mentally deteriorating Bilbo and the dwarves will not like what they bear witness to when they get there

Marriage of Necessity

In a desperate attempt to make sure someone he trusts rules over Erebor, Thorin marries Bilbo on what will probably be his deathbed, as well as that of his heirs. When all three Durins survive, Thorin's marriage to Bilbo comes under scrutiny. Not everyone is happy with it.

Reclaiming Erebor…Again

Bilbo is sailing to the Undying Lands but wary of letting go of the guilt that has been with him for many decade. His most sincerest wish is to go back and change what was done. Before reaching the lands of peace and healing, he dies aboard the ship and finds that his wish is being granted but not because he is the one to wish it. He finds that not only is he going to be sent back to his younger body, but so is the entire Company of Thorin Oakenshield. Time is a fickle thing and not all the members have their memories returned to them at the same time. The journey on becomes interesting as the dwarves slowly remember and fight for themselves and their kin, yet for some reason they are not the only ones to remember.

Hiding Myself

Bella Baggins is a perfectly normal, respectable Hobbit living alone in Hobbiton. That is, until Gandalf the Gray arrives at her house looking for someone to share in an adventure. When thirteen dwarves show up at her doorstep, she stupidly agrees to go with them to reclaim their homeland. Thorin Oakenshield, the moody and brooding Dwarven king, has managed to capture the unwanted affections of the Company's burglar. But one thing nobody knows is that their burglar is hiding a secret from them all that may destroy everything or change the way dwarves think for a very long time.

To Love a King

"“I never assumed that I could – that he could -,” Bilbo tried feebly. Dain leaned in close enough for Bilbo to feel his hot breath over his face. “He could never have cared for you. Was he not clear enough when he threatened to cast you to your death?” Bilbo pinched his face up in pain and clenched his hands into fists. Dain smiled triumphantly.

Buried Coals

After the Reclaiming of Erebor, life was supposed to settle down. Things were supposed to be simpler once there weren't people trying to kill them and things trying to eat them and so on and so forth. Things didn't get any simpler, but after the whole Tauriel incident, and after Dain got the snot beat out of him, things seemed to settle a bit. Billa should have known it wouldn't last.

At Last

Thorin Oakenshield has spent twenty long years alone with his broken heart, he has spent twenty long years learning to live with what he has done and what he caused, and he has spent twenty long years thinking that Bilbo hated him. But miscommunications can cause the worst heartaches of all, he finds, as Bilbo has spent twenty long years thinking that he’s dead.

Alive

Bilbo fled Erebor before his friends could be buried, before he had to see Thorin encased in stone. He returns to the Shire and settles into a life of unsociability and some amount of loneliness, but finds comfort in the figures of the children of Hobbiton. After twenty years, however, his luck is gone, and Bilbo has to flee the Shire with Frodo, Sam, Merry, and Pippin, and with four very young Hobbits, there is only one place he can turn to.

This is a Love I Cannot Undo (Eyes Open, I Burn in Hell)

In which Kili, Fili, and Thorin survive the Battle of the Five Armies and have to deal with the fallout.

Fiercer Than Fire

The Quest of Erebor as it might have been. Billa Baggins is not your average burglar- or, perhaps, a burglar at all. That remains to be seen. Thorin resents this little female's habit of gaining a foothold wherever she lands. Even in his heart.

A Flower Among Gems

The Fell Winter destroyed Billanna (also known as Billa) Baggin's small hobbit family, as her parents were murdered and she kidnapped by orcs. However, she is saved by a familiar group of dwarves which, after deliberation (and Thorin's younger sister giving him grief) Billa joins the family of Durin. As the years pass, relationships are brought into light, and with quests thrown in, it seems a quiet life is a little hard to find for a hobbit among dwarves.

Think Before You Speak

The three fools of Durin's Line try to court their Ones. Things get crazy, hectic, emotional, and brains continuously shut off at the worst times.

Words Unanswered

The most terrible thing you can do to a writer, Bilbo is sure, is answer words with silence.

Together Once More

Thinking himself banished, Bilbo leaves Erebor before he and Thorin can reconcile. Meanwhile, the entire company thinks that Bilbo died in bofta. 20 years later, Bilbo, now the guardian of Frodo Baggins, is asked by Gandalf to travel to rivendell to discuss a growing evil that is encompassing Middle Earth. However, the two hobbits mysteriously vanish, and never make it to rivendell as they were supposed to. And somehow, to make matters even more confusing, Gandalf comes to the realization that Bilbo Baggin's has the One Ring.

Hurricanes in Hertford, Hereford, and Hampshire

Bilbo was banished. That's it, the end. She wants nothing more to do with dwarves. Now all she needs to do is get back home, but there may be some complications along the way.

Eastern Homecomings

After an unprecedented Goblin attack on the Shire, Bilbo finds himself whisked back to Erebor with his son he never wanted Thorin to know about.

A Most Sensible Idea

Bilbo Baggins isn't sure about this. Not one bit. Frodo is definitely too young to enter into an arranged marriage with a dwarven king called Thorin Oakenshield. It's a good thing that Bilbo is there to chaperone him through their courtship. After all, there's no chance that a fussy hobbit bachelor would ever catch the eye of a king.

You Got Me

The Company shows their affection for Bilbo in accordance with dwarvish tradition. Bilbo... has no idea why everyone keeps giving him gifts.

The Most Precious of Treasures

Bilbo is thought to have died during the Battle of the Five Armies, but in reality she has returned home to Shire, believing that she is forever banished from her friends sides and that they are far better off believing that she is indeed dead. However, her plans to remain dead to them are complicated by the most precious treasure a certain Dwarf King left her with and by a few friends who simply refuse to believe that she had truly gone from Middle-Earth. Bilbo believed that her journey was done, she had gone there and had come back, her story was finished, she had no idea that she had just walk headlong into another.

A Second Chance

The Valar send Bilbo back in time, to the day where Gandalf asks him to join in an adventure. After living a lifetime of regret and suffering, he vows to change things for the better. For Thorin. For Frodo. But will he succeed?

Retelling the Hobbit

This is a comic adaptation/retelling of the Hobbit! It's framed as a bedtime story that Bilbo is telling a younger Frodo.

A Passion for Mushrooms

There are many trials for a hobbit attempting to make a life among dwarves. A hobbit wants a garden. A hobbit wants to eat regular meals. A hobbit wants friends, good books, and comfortable chairs. Bilbo does his best to carve out a little hobbit life for himself in the mountain. If only there were not one final obstacle. For a hobbit heart wants love, and among dwarves that is a sticky subject.

Something Blue

Thorin marries Bilbo after the Battle of Five Armies, a marriage of convenience, not love. Slowly, they must come to make the best of it, Bilbo resolves. After all, he's a Hobbit. They make the best of things.

Azhâr

Following the aftermath of the Battle of the Five Armies where Thorin must fight with his own guilt and mind over his choices and what they mean and meant, where he must decide whether or not to rule, and how to live with himself after dying. Focusing on many different characters and relationships, as well as building on the lore of Erebor and Middle Earth. A story about coming home.

An Expected Journey

For years Bilbo has written about his adventures and told stories about his dealings with dwarves and dragons. To most it seemed like fanciful nonsense but to Bilbo it was all very real. A weight followed him home from his travels, one called regret. Now in his final moments Bilbo has a choice to make – go quietly into death’s embrace or go back again and face all the fear and pain for the chance to make things right?

Lay Down Your Sweet and Weary Head

Thorin dies. Thorin wakes up. He is understandably confused by this, especially since he appears to be in the Erebor he knew as a young dwarf, about to be attacked by a dragon.

Call You Home

In which the Company are entirely too nosy about matters that are supposed to be a secret, and Bilbo learns that being concerned about propriety is overrated when you could be making friends instead.

Courting Habits of the Line of Durin

Hobbits didn’t have such things as courting rituals – they were uncomplicated folk. They announced their affections with flowers or a cooked meal, a shared pipe or simply a kiss – and then there were meetings with both families and a date set for the wedding. Dwarves, as he kept discovering, were a completely different kettle of fish.

The Road Delivered Us Home

In the years since Bilbo left Erebor, he has lost his respectability, gained a nephew, and gotten on with life at Bag End. He'd left aside adventure for the comforts and peace of his little Hobbit hole, and for the love of a child who needed him. Though perhaps, adventures can yet find him.

Intertwine

“To let someone else braid you is an intimacy. Brothers often do it for one another, or parents in our youth, or lovers when we are of age. I have none of these.” Thorin pulled a silver bead from the pouch and rolled it between his fingers, and his gaze on Bilbo held weight

Fix That Which Was Broken

When Mahal himself offers to send Thorin back to the start of the quest to save the line of Durin, he is determined to make amends for all of the mistakes he made the first time around. When Bilbo wakes up in Bag End eighty years in the past, all he knows is that he has somehow been given the chance to see his beloved dwarves again and he'll be damned if he doesn't take it.

Tears of the Sun

Based on a prompt where Frodo is Thorin and Bilbo's son and no one knows.

Reading in Autumn Sunlight

Summer was over. The lingering warmth from those long, languorous days were steadily replaced with opaline skies and bracing winds which brought with them the threat of the first frosts of winter to Erebor.

Portrait

Three years to the day following the beginning of the Quest for Erebor, Bilbo was asked to pose for an official portrait.

The World Spins Madly On

The end of the journey to retake Erebor is harrowing. As Bilbo Baggins surveys the wreckage of what was once a group of the best friends he ever had, he wonders if it was all worth it. And then he wakes up. And wakes up. And wakes up.

How Shall This Day End?

Thorin Oakenshield dies. And then returns to himself in Erebor, staring down at a gold-covered floor. He doesn't quite understand what is happening at first, but soon realizes he has been granted an incredible chance (and a terrible burden): to relive the battle again until he finally gets things right.

Though the Stars Walk Backward

Bilbo wakes, always in Erebor, with dark shadows to one side and the first light of a terrible dawn to the other.

Many Paths

Bilbo wakes up in Dale. With the memory of a battle won but lives lost, he finds an army of Men and Elves readying to attack Erebor. Bilbo tries to save his dwarves. Again and again.

Nothing Gold Can Stay

Bilbo Baggins led a rather peaceful life, thank you very much, until an old acquaintance decided to turn it upside down, and he found himself agreeing to take a job that’s… let’s say not exactly up his alley, and might eventually cost him a little more than his treasured cozy lifestyle. Who would have thought tutoring a slightly menacing monarch’s more than slightly overbearing nephew could prove to be such an adventure?

Courtship Works Best When Both Parties Are Aware of It

The halls of Erebor flourished under the reign of Thorin Oakenshield. His coronation was a welcoming ceremony to celebrate the final wave of refugees returning to the Lonely Mountain. Bilbo, the hobbit under the mountain, is concerned with the amount of time the weary King under the Mountain is spending with a simple hobbit. Thorin is worried Bilbo is spurning his courtship. Suddenly all the dwarves are concerned for Bilbo's happiness in Erebor. These two idiots need to learn to communicate.

Run! Glorfindel Saw Us!

Bilbo Baggins was raised by elves in Rivendell. Thorin is not impressed. At all

The Rampart

When Thorin realized what Bilbo had done, realized that the hobbit had traded his Arkenstone, he saw fire. And Bilbo, being so incredibly small, was easy enough to throw from the Rampart. The company leaves Erebor, seemingly forever. 10 years after Thorin 'killed' Bilbo, he breaks from his dragon sickness, sick at what he's done. He runs to the Shire, hell-bent on paying his respects to his burglar, ashamed at killing him over a stone. But what will Thorin find in Hobbiton?

An Unexpected Addition

All of the dwarves survive the Battle of the Five Armies, but Bilbo must return to the Shire to sort out his old life and make way for a new one in Erebor. Over one year later, Bilbo comes back to the Lonely Mountain with a recently orphaned Frodo. King Thorin isn't quite sure what to make of this new, tiny addition to his Company.

Heartbeat of the Mountain

Bilbo adjusts to caring for a nephew and realizes that the Shire holds no future for him anymore. It is time to return to the mountain. With Frodo in tow, he sets off to find out if Thorin regrets his decisions and to discover if the mountain can handle not one, not two, but three troublemakers.

The Took’s Arrangement

Shortly after Bilbo Baggins comes of age, he is swept up into a life he never expected. Upon the promise made between his grandfather and the dwarrow of Ered Luin, he sets off to marry the crown prince of Erebor, Thorin. Arranged marriages are not ideal, but he is a Baggins, and Bagginses keep promises, while his adventurous Took blood sends him running down the road to Erebor.

Beware the Nice Ones

Five years after becoming Consort Under the Mountain, Bilbo is struggling to prove his worth to Thorin's most xenophobic subjects and foreign kinsmen. However, when visiting nobles mistake Bilbo and Frodo for common servants, Thorin is not pleased and Bilbo has had enough. Political intrigue, cultural misunderstandings, and a trial of honor ensue...

The Greatest Treasure in Erebor

It takes roughly two months of being taken on a different walking tour of The Splendors of Erebor every single day for Bilbo to work out that Thorin and Company are trying to convince him not to leave.

Our Lives to Make

Bilbo must venture the long road back to the Shire to see his newborn nephew, leaving Thorin to rule over Erebor. But when word reaches him mid-travel that Frodo has been orphaned, he knows he cannot go back to the Lonely Mountain alone. What will Thorin say when Bilbo returns with his nephew in tow, when he’s lost his own kin so recently?

An Unexpected Son

Bilbo left Erebor with a treasure more precious then gold or rings. What happens when the dwarves discover Frodo? Will Thorin bend enough to admit he was wrong to force Bilbo to leave?

lay down your sweet and weary head

Thorin dies. Thorin wakes up. He is understandably confused by this, especially since he appears to be in the Erebor he knew as a young dwarf, about to be attacked by a dragon. A time-travel fic with Thorin as the one living his life twice

The Shire's Sacrifice

When the Shire cannot honour its Treaty with Erebor, the dwarves enforce a contractual clause: one Hobbit must be sent to Erebor to marry the King as a sign of good faith. But with neither party at all willing and plans afoot to undermine the King, maybe an unwilling Bilbo Baggins is exactly what Erebor needs…

Gimli/Legolas Centric

Comes Around Again

Gimli closes his eyes, an old Dwarf on the brink of death in the home he had built with his husband in the Undying Lands, and opens them again as a young Dwarf in his childhood home in Ered Luin. He's returned to the tumultuous week before The Company set out to recruit their Burglar from his cosy hobbit hole. Gimli, once again a impetuous teen in the eyes of his family, must get into that Company--the lives of his loved ones, and the very fate of Middle Earth--depends on it.

Heart of the Mountain

For three hundred years they've been under attack. It's become background noise now but Gimli can't help but wonder why. Why in Mahal's name are the elves still attacking them after all this time? Surely they have something better to do?

Hearts Will As Hearts Must

The Dwarves are returning to Erebor reclaimed, and the elves uphold their promise to safeguard the caravans as they pass through Mirkwood. One particular Dwarf has wit and spark enough to match Legolas Greenleaf - perhaps even outmatch him. It's hate at first sight.

Cultural Differences: If Thou Kiss Not Me

Legolas and Gimli fall for each other, hard. But culture shock causes some problems when Gimli realizes that Dwarves and Elves don’t share certain customs.

Forged in Frame

A very contrived take on the Professor!Gimli and Influencer!Legolas AU, in which they’re still somewhat reluctantly trying to save the planet because Aragorn asked them to.

Secrets of the Lonely Mountain

Legolas is sent to Erebor after the War of the Ring, where he's given the chance to meet up with Gimli again.

we raise our cups

Legolas determined he would have to cut through the Woods of Oromë. If all went well, it should be a straight shot to what Celebrimbor had labelled as the Mansions of Aulë. Perhaps, were he a wiser elf, he would first seek the guidance of Mandos – because after all, he was still alive, and Gimli was still dead. But Legolas was, at the end of all things, not a very wise elf. He was simply an elf with a fiddle and a bow, who was deeply in love. And he had to hope that would be enough.

Terroir

"Terroir - the characteristic taste and flavor imparted to a wine by the environment in which it is produced." It's almost the tourist season in the wine country, and Greenwood Cellars is gearing up for its busiest time of year. The new Blue Mountain Public House threatens to disrupt decades of tradition - this is wine country, after all. Aragorn is running for County Sheriff on a platform of community policing - but he's running against his boss. Eowyn feels trapped in the family business, and thinks the handsome young motorcycle cop is her ticket out. And Gandalf is selling his fireworks, like he always has, even though there's no way they should be legal. The story of a town, and the people who want to make it better, and what happens in one tourist season.

Building

A city, a marriage, a world. Legolas and Gimli return to Minas Tirith with their people to help Aragorn rebuild his city, and learn how to be together in a new world of peace.

The Wild Hunt

Vampire Legolas vs. Slayer Gimli

What Song Can Fell the Mountain

Valinor has been their home for a century and a half when, scant days after his four-hundred-and-twelfth birthday, Gimli says, "I will soon die. What are we going to do about it?"

Lest We Burden Our Weary Hearts

If one must call them ‘missed chances’, then do so warmly, for even in the distance of space and years there is no shortage of affection here. Each other’s dearest companion, indeed.

Homespun

Modern Lasgalen bears some little resemblances to canon Mirkwood. Gimli encounters one of them in the bathtub one morning.

Going Viral

When a dangerous new virus spreads rapidly through Middle-earth, Gondor goes quickly into lockdown. Legolas and Gimli weather the pandemic together as best they can.

Rebuild Your Seawall (Brick by Brick)

For weeks and months, Legolas has felt a pull - and dares not name it, does not heed its stormy-sky warnings, does not track the ebb and flow on the shoreline of his life. Here’s the thing about the tide, though: it rises whether one wills it or not.

M&M and E&E2

A Gold Star in his Crown

The Silmarils have been stolen. So has Elrond, on the very same night, and the only trace left of those who took them is a note in Maglor's handwriting. Years later, after Elros has gone after his brother and never returned, Gil-Galad goes to reclaim his young kinsmen from their second captivity in Faerie.

The Ransom of the House of Fëanor

Maglor goes to war for a final time, the eternal darkness looms, and Elrond bargains with the Valar for the ransom of the House of Fëanor. In which fathers give up everything for their sons, and their sons offer everything in return; title, name, and fëa. Or, the one where Maglor believes he is destined for eternal darkness, and Elrond politely says otherwise.

To Safety

Elrond and Elros, after yet another horrible day of being hostages for their mother's Silmaril, awaken in an unfamiliar forest where the sunlight doesn't seem quite right, and somehow run right back into the arms of their captors. Maitimo and Makalaurë have no idea who these children are, but it seems like they're supposed to raise them. It's more difficult than it sounds, because somehow they don't speak Quenya. In other words, the twins time travel to Valinor in the Years of the Trees and proceed to be parented against their will.

Low Water

Elrond is gifted with foresight. Elrond has seen how this chapter ends.

New Strings

Maglor is rescued, now to fit him into life in Imladris.

And Love Repaid

It was never about owing.

Protector

It began with the Second Age. Or actually, it did not begin at all. It simply did not end. Against all odds, Maedhros and Maglor survive. For Elrond, that is a beginning of sorts.

Lessons Learned

It all begins with Maglor wanting to give the young Peredhels he and his brother captured a some sense of normalcy in their lives. He gave them over to Erestor so that they might learn simple things, how to read and write. He hardly expected to find his own relationship with the twins to develop, and Maedhros expected it even less...

Unwell

It's not that they're not happy that Maglor's been brought back to the Undying Lands. It's just that they're a little concerned about the fact that he's been taken into the house of someone he once kidnapped, and that no one's seen Maglor since.

Russandol

The attack on Sirion

After Sirion

After the Third Kinslaying, two pairs of brothers struggle to repair their broken families.

Songbird

Caught up in his grief over his twin brother’s death, Elrond hears rumours of his foster-father’s whereabouts. With only Erestor as his companion, the half-elf leaves Lindon to find Maglor. But at the end of their journey they must all face the question of what to do when the elf who was never meant to return to elven settlement is actually found.

Barriers

On the way back to Amon Ereb, Maedhros and Maglor carried not a jewel, but two small boys instead.

Always There

A young Elladan and Elrohir return from playing by the sea with a strange tale that sends their father on a mad chase.

Sons of Eärendil

Elros, King of Numenor, reminisces to his absent brother. Talking through memories of the terrors of their childhood and the things that drove them apart as adults.

As Little Might Be Thought

From the Sacking of Sirion to Amon Ereb; from princes to captives to sons. The story of the unlikely bond between Elrond and Elros and Maglor and Maedhros.

Pieces of Stars

When the Oath brings disaster to Sirion, Maglor attempts to fix what he can, but a temporary arrangement becomes much more permanent than anyone had foreseen. Elrond and Elros grow up, grow together, and grow apart at the end of a world slowly decaying into myth and legend.

The Lines on My Face, the Lines on My Hands

Nearly eighty years after Celebrían left Middle Earth to seek healing, the people of Imladris have yet to quite move on. But when a simple task of 'make sure the road is clear' ends in the Elladan and Elrohir bringing home a seriously injured and sorely missed elf, the entire household is forced to re-examine just what they are to each other, and to themselves.

The Starlit Sky

Elrond's account of his boyhood with the Fëanorians

Jailbird

There is singing from the southeast tower of the citadel. There is always singing from the southeast tower of the citadel. For over three thousand years someone has lived in that tower and sung, and today Faramir wants to know why.

I Beg a Deep and Dreamless Sleep

An alternate version of my fic "Give the Children Closure" Maedhros is unsurprised by Elrond coming to let him out of the Halls, though he knows he won't actually be leaving. This is a kinder hallucination than most. Again I will stress that everything is going to be okay, he just has to be sad first.

Lords of Amon Ereb

Maedhros and Maglor have stolen the Silmarils and disappeared. Beleriand is sinking. Finarfin, Gil-Galad, and all the people moving east pay a visit to Amon Ereb, assuming that the Sons of Fëanor returned there. Instead, they find Elrond and Elros.

With Eyes of Nightingales

Finarfin wants to know what happened to Elrond and Elros. Against their better judgement, Círdan and Gil-Galad go with him. What they find is a terrifying forest, a fortress that defies geometry, and a pair of twins with bright eyes.

Nightmare Sequence

A series of dreams and nightmares that everyone sincerely hopes are not prophetic, mostly taking place in the early days of Elrond and Elros's time as hostages. (aka things that were too messed up or too out of character that I really wanted to write)

plus ça change

Elrond has had many homes and many families, in the Ages of Middle-Earth. He has lost them all. Or, a character study, from toddler in Sirion to Lord of Rivendell.

Softly Sing the Children

Elrond and Elros are unsettling children. All the children in their family are.

Childhood Memories

Sometimes the waves of war wash strange things to the shore. Perhaps Maglor senses what it means for him when he finds Elwing's twin sons Elrond and Elros abandoned in the forest. He does not take them with him to Ossiriand as his prisoners of war, but rather takes on the role of a foster father for them. Little by little, the little Half-elves learn that he means them no harm, and gradually they begin to love him as their father.

And Family Means No One Gets Left Behind

Earendil returns home to find it burned to the ground and his sons missing, presumed captured by the Feanorians. He does the logical thing. He goes after them. He's not entirely expecting what he finds when he gets there.

MISC

Tears Like Rain

The first in the epic Mellon Chronicles. Mirkwood has suffered tragic losses in the Last Great Alliance, including her King. With the very survival of the kingdom at stake, Thranduil finds himself at deadly odds with his older brother Doriflen. When young Legolas becomes a pawn in his abusive uncle’s ruthless power games, the lies, deception and betrayal risk destroying more than just the young prince’s life.

Golden Light

They have loved each other for so long that when Finwë grieves, Ingwë grieves with him, but he also tries his best to comfort him.

No Other Choice

“Your word means nothing,” she spits at him, baring her teeth, nearly shaking with anger as sudden as a cataclysm. The sea roars behind her, cold droplets spraying up and flecking her bare legs. “I do not barter with murderers.” The Fëanorians descend upon the Havens of Sirion to retrieve the Silmaril. Elwing makes an impossible choice.

All Our Old Follies, Come 'Round Again

Celebrimbor sees Elrond again after a long separation. It isn't a good thing, at first. But then Celebrían meets Elrond for the first time under... unexpected circumstances.

The Siege of Khazad-dum

Rescued from Sauron by Celebrían, Celebrimbor and Elrond fled with her to the great dwarf-kingdom and stronghold where Durin is king. Celebrimbor, badly injured in body and spirit, is impatient. Galadriel and Durin oppose the might of Sauron to the utmost. And in Lindon, Gil-galad is unwilling to wait. This is a direct sequel to All Our Old Follies, Come 'Round Again

Songs of the Heart

It's not that Earendil isn't glad that the kinslayers are in custody. It's just that he's not entirely happy that the place they're currently in custody at is his ship.

Letters to a Daughter

After arriving in Valinor, Elrond writes down his thoughts and experiences in letters addressed to his now mortal daughter.

Songs of Shadows, Songs of Blood

There are shadows in the forests of Beleriand. Some of them have teeth.

More than the Stars Above

Elrond had lived without his parents for this long. He could certainly continue to do so if they proved to be indifferent. That didn't stop his hand from shaking when he reached out to knock on the door.

Watcher in the Woods

"The creature has been with us for many weeks, and Balan caved to its wish to learn. He has been teaching it our language, our politics, our culture. Our very way of life. Wherever we go, it is there. Watching. Always watching." Something does not bode well with this golden stranger in our camp, and yet, there is nothing to be done about it. I can only watch, and pray that what I fear does not come to pass. And it will.

Suitable Foster

"“Children?” Felagund sounded uncharacteristically distressed." Bëor strongly discourages his friend from adopting.

Beor and the Faerie King

The humans have their own story of how they met the Faërie King, what they gained and one they lost. The story of Finrod and Balan later named Bëor, as told by an old woman in a mountain cabin.

Little Boy Lost and Crying

I feel like the house of finwe just found a confused, crying, and lost little boy in the woods one day and decided to keep him and call him gil-galad and thats why his parentage is so confusing because everyone claimed he was theirs

Scion of Kings

Gil-galad struggles to write a letter to the man he thinks (hopes) might be his father. Or, in which we are all Gil-galad, failing to start an email.

Foundlings

The untold story of what happened to Dior's sons during and after the sack of Menegroth.

Twin Troubles

When Celegorm ends up in the Halls, he finds himself reluctantly playing guardian to a pair of lost twins.

Forget Me Not

It’s a marriage of convenience, a way to forever strengthen the bond between the Dwarves of Erebor and the people of Dale. Or so Sigrid tells herself.

Too Much Truth

Legolas accompanies Tilda to Erebor to visit her sister. It is his father’s wish that he does so. Legolas does not understand the new world he finds there.

Work for Idle Hands

King Bard carries so many worries, especially now his council want his eldest daughter Sigrid betrothed in a way to best benefit Dale. Sigrid carries her own worries and is determined to cut back her Da’s. There’s a trade agreement between Erebor and Dale; Sigrid and Fili begin using it.

My Lady Dis

On her way to Erebor following the deaths of her family, Princess Dís receives some unexpected news from King Thranduil, and an offer to make Mirkwood her home. King Thranduil can't abide Dwarves, but the more time he spends with Erebor's last princess, the more he begins questioning his long held convictions.

We Were Legends: Book I - Champion's Dawn

In the First Age of the world, House of Elmo supports the King and Queen of Doriath in ruling their Kingdom. Princes of Doriath hold on to it as well - they found themselves in different roles to support their Kingdom, but beside their duty, they still hold deep loyalty and love towards each other despite grudges from the past and poorly made decisions. Will their loyalty linger through all the Ages to come?

The Burned Prince

After the sacking of Doriath, the lands once girdled by Melian were abandoned. Faerbraichon, Lord of House Brethil, went east in search of a new land for his Sindar Elves, a land far removed from the grief caused by the Silmaril Thingol had coveted. With him came his family - those who were left - and those for whom he was Lord.

Extraordinary

The first time he saw her, when he climbed out of her toilet and into her father’s home, he barely even registered her presence – he was too preoccupied with his mission and his brother’s injury, so he wrote her off simply as a perfectly ordinary human girl. But then he started observing her – and Mahal, she was the most extraordinary creature he had ever laid eyes upon.

A Favorable Arrangement

Fili and Sigrid agree to an arranged marriage, and quickly learn that mountains and lakes ally more quickly than people.

Episodes from Middle Earth

Collection of one-shots

Fear and Family (Or, the One Where Kíli Is the Sensible One)

After the Battle of Five Armies, Bilbo isn't sure of his welcome in the mountain, and thus returns to the Shire as soon as he can. Somewhat to his surprise, Ori goes with him -- but it turns out Ori has his own reasons for leaving Erebor behind. Well, Bilbo's quite used to being the talk of the Shire.

Solace

The tale of Thranduil and his wife from the beginning of their journey to the downfall of their tragedy.

Seduction to Destruction

Before the awakening of the elves there was the rise of the Valaraukar. As the Valar attempt to keep and contain their Maiar from succumbing to Melkor’s might, they fail to realize that it only takes one to destroy their efforts from within. The fall of Almaren will be detailed with Mairon and his relationships with others as the central plot points. Eventual Angbang because that was why I started writing this thing in the first place.

Bury My Sins Down By the Sea

Wandering along the seashore singing an unceasing lament for what his people had become and what they had done was supposed to be the last line for Maglor, son of Fëanor. When he accidentally trespasses on Avarin territory, they take him briefly hostage in order to ensure that he will lead no war parties to them. Among their people, thrust headfirst into a culture completely alien to him, Maglor learns quickly exactly how different they are. Despite all their differences, he still finds kinship with Denethor of the Laiquendi, and the comfort of a connection helps him open his heart again at long last.

Adopted of the Khîtikweni

Maglor has been avoiding others since he flung the Silmaril into the sea. Some, he finds, are more stubborn than he is.

Mortal Cold

Elladan, Elrohir, Legolas, and Aragorn are in the mountains during a terrible cold autumn storm and the sons of Elrond reluctantly stay with some of the Avari after Legolas' insistence and the severity of the storm.

Secret Hope

Nerdanel is, she suspects, among the last to receive word - the ships are coming home. The Elves are returning at last. She knows she will likely be disappointed. But she can't help but hope.

Vegetarian

Whenever anyone asks Erestor how he ended up in Rivendell, he defers to Glorfindel.

My Father’s Eyes

They are terrible and cruel; warm and loving. I see my father trough his ever-changing eyes, and they tell me his truths if I read them wisely. But sometimes I fear i will never get to know everything there is to know about them. They are like the grey sky before it rains, like the universe itself or the forest when it rains. They speak to me if I listen closely. And I do listen.

The Prisoner of Dol Guldur

Thranduil makes a terrible discovery after the fall of Dol Guldur

The Web of Darkness

An experiment of the Witch-King backfires, big time, and the Elves of Mirkwood find an unexpected ally.

Hungry Eye, Ancient Soul

"In this Fifth Age of Middle Earth, there are many stories about the romantic past of the earlier ages. Ancient stories of love and adventure, and those who inhabited these lands alongside us mortals. The terrifying reality of these stories is often ignored, and I will bring them to light, remaining anonymous lest these beings find me for revealing the truth." It is the Fifth Age of Middle Earth, and the Elves have fallen into legend; legend twisted into tales of deceit, Fae magic, disappearances, and betrayal.

The Unseen Fate

Namo once said, "There long shall ye abide and yearn for your bodies, and find little pity..." so basically, he said that the House of Feanor will abide in the Halls of Mandos and remain dispossessed for ever. However, it would seem that Eru has another fate in mind. A story where the House of Miriel has found their place in the world. They meet new friends along the way and grievances are forgiven. Finally, a happy ending for the House of Miriel.

Consequences

"She is her father's daughter. He was never really a father at all." Elwing and Eärendil remember their children.

The Wanderer (Maglor's story)

The silmarillion as told from Maglor's perspective. Some implied Russingon and a whole bunch of vala/elf relationships.

A Meeting In Valinor

After the War of the Ring, Sauron returns as a prisoner to Valinor and, much to the incredulity of his self-appointed guard Eönwë, encounters a hobbit.

Casting Out The Serpent

Balan-who-will-be-Bëor comes to some conclusions about his new friend after said new friend demonstrates a terrifying knowledge of venomous snakes. In conclusion, Finarfin was a reptile hoarder and also elves might be poisonous.

The Fourth Hall

Where do the orcs go when they die?

green are the leaves (i leave in mirkwood)

"A choice sits upon his head, pressing down past his elven bones and into his very fae. He must choose either to turn back to the stifling safety of the King's Halls, or venture on into a world that will not offer favours nor protection to an Elf as young and inexperienced as he." OR: Legolas learns what it means to chase freedom, choose, sacrifice and find family even in the darkest of hours.

A Feast of Ashes

Now High King of the Noldor in Middle Earth, Fingolfin decides to host a feast to reunite the free people of Beleriand, the Noldor, and his own family. What he did not expect is to be reunited with dead relatives, spies from Angband, dark secrets from Cuivienen, and a fair share of angst

An Unexpected Exchange

Bilbo always knew there was something off about his nephew. He didn't fit in amongst the hobbits. And when a stranger shows up on his doorstep claiming that the boy is not his nephew at all, things get a bit... complicated.

Should A Star Fall, The Sky Won't Go Black

The stars are sacred to all of the eldar, but for some, they may have a little bit more meaning. Or: Elurín has a nightmare that leaves him lost and confused, and Maedhros helps guide him back onto his path with the help of the night sky.

Two Stars in Time

While undergoing a hunting test, Elurín and Eluréd have a strange setback and wake up under the Two Trees. Lost in a land of old, there is only one person whom they can think of to search for: Adar Maedhros.

In Elin Gelebrin

After the Second Kinslaying, Maedhros searches for two young children and succeeds in finding them. Here are some small moments of their time together.

An Untold Tale

Injured, afraid, and freezing in the forests of Doriath, Elurín manages to tap into an inheritance from Melian he never realised was there. In his desperation, he uses it, and he and his brother vanish from history. Three thousand years later, a patrol of Imladris finds two strange boys in the woods.

What if Elrond Had Pushed Isildur into the Fires of Mt. Doom? Theory

The One Ring and it’s survival by the hands of Isildur gave rise to Sauron and the War of the Ring in the Lord of the Rings, but what if Elrond had pushed Isildur into the fires of Mount Doom, bringing an end to the One Ring altogether?

#fic rec #the hobbit #lotr #bagginshield #gigolas #kiliel #the silmarillion #long post

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thereignwoman · 3 years

Text

Okay but time to share some wlw ships I adore cause its 2 a.m. and I can't sleep xx

I'll organize them so followers can skip to stuff they know

Cartoons/Animes:

The owl house

Lumity: obviously just an amazing ship, a healthy enemies/rivals to lovers queer romance suitable for all audiences, as well as some bi x lesbian support.

Ever after high

Darling x Apple: They 👏 Kissed 👏 2016ish. That is huge for that time, like yes, now there is Lumity and Catradora and etc., but back in 2015ish-2016ish it wasn't as expressed or shown in shows as it is now. And I just love the potential development they could have brought each other, especially Apple.

Rwby

Bmblb: literally they are the reason I am so comfortable with my own sexuality. They will always hold a special place in my heart for being the comfort I needed when I was questioning sexuality, and also they are gay af. Love them so much x

Whiterose: same as above, but they are less canon but still deserve so much love. Another rivals/enemies to lovers, but a bit more one-sided for the enemies/rivals part lol.

New Game!

Aoba x Hifumi: I just love how playful Abba can be with her, and how comfy Hifumi gets with Aoba. She is just so adorable and shy, and Abba brings out such a cute side of her.

Kakegurui

Meariri and Kirisaya: just very very gay, and I love them. Gambling lesbians for the win

I also like others, but these are the main ones that come to mind when I think about stuff xx

Games:

Danganronpa (dear lord are there a lot, so I limited it to the top 4)

Soapies/mahiyoko: borderline canon. Love the mean lesbian soft for one person vibe Hiyoko has, and her relationship with Mahiru makes her a better person and I just love to see that cause the poor thing has been put through so much.

Ikuzono: body guard x pop star au anyone??? Okay but seriously, the potential angst and hurt comfort is strong with these two and I love it! They are both totally underrated too so <3

Celesgiri: ENEMIES TO LOVERS!!!! ROMANTIC GAY TENSION!!!!! CRIME X SOLVES CRIME. 1000000/10. Also they are both just aesthetically pleasing next to each other. And also they are the mean bisexual x meaner lesbian meme/trope. Done with everyone's bs 24/7 and the two gay disasters who actually have braincells in their friend group.

Bandaid/tsumioda: for six fans, they are very similar to katanna vibes. Just genuinely an adorable pairing of loud and accepting gf x soft , shy, and kinda traumatized gf that can be very sweet as they give each other the love they both need and deserve. Also Ibuki is my highest kin and Mikan is my type, so bonus comfort for projection reasons.

Your turn to die

Naoreko: the domestic lesbians who adopted their autistic catboy son and have a lovely cottagecore family vibe i didn't ask for, but needed. Seriously though, if they weren't in the game they would have adopted Gin and Sara and possibly Joe and live as Cottagecore wives being supportive moms, and I love that. Also they are such a tattoo artist x flower shop owner vibe and I love that so much.

Genshin impact

Jeanlisa: oblivious x flirt who has eyes only for them. Everyone knows they are dating... but Jean.

Doki doki literature club

Sayonika: gay cottagecore vibes and very sweet gfs. Mental health rep woooo! Both deserve the world.

Natsuri: enemies to lovers, huh, who would have thought that I would of liked this trope? /lh /s

Musical theater:

Six

Katanna: literally the only thing I still have no issues with from the six fandom, these two I still adore and am proud to support as Kat and Anna both deserve the world.

BMC

Pinkberry: angry and bitchy character x literal ray of sunshine. They feel like the most likely to fit a coffee shop au on this list so xx

WATT

Kateva: Eva and Kate both are just interesting characters from a psychological and writing standpoint, so I love to think about how their relationship works out, especially since they are canon.

Live action:

Supergirl

Agentreign: haven't talked about them in a while, but I still love them. Bring sam back 2021.

Supercorp: seriously they need to be canon /srs. Otherwise, ima flip a table.

I would add more but now its almost 3 a.m. so xx

#stars turn to storms #reign for days #a love for reign and thunder #im not tagging the fandoms because this is a personal post #but yeah #stan the wooloowoos #wlw ships supremacy yeeeee

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booleman · 3 years

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merlin WIP that’s been in my docs for too long and I need to share it

Arthur watched the young knight with pride in his eyes. Since he made Mordred one of his knights, the druid had shown a great improvement in the art of the sword, visible by everyone – Merlin being one of them, even if he still didn’t trust the boy, the Seer’s words being the reason why. Just after the knight was shoved on the ground, the King found the right to add: «You are getting good, Mordred, very good.»

Blushing, the younger person on the training field murmured something in the lines of “my lord”, while the King decided that the best remark had to be a chuckle. «I may have to start trying soon.»

Merlin decided that it was the right moment to save his kin from Arthur’s ego, so he got up from his usual place and, clapping, he asked: «My lord?»

Arthur ignored him, too much invested in trying to make Mordred understand why he lost the friendly duel, so the former manservant just went away, the sassy remark almost urging to come out, deciding that this war was not worthy of care; he just went straight to his chambers.

──────────

«Did you see how Mordred used a contre quarte to my high-line attack? It was a very skilful move, really!» the King started, trying to put his beloved one in a talkative mood. When Merlin didn’t respond, he decided to add: «You do understand what a contre quarte is, right?»

Merlin rolled his eyes, but responded nonetheless: «At a guess, a type of parry, beginning in the quarte position, ending with a twist of the wrist.» At this Arthur smiled, a smile he reserved just to his lover when he was trying to make fun of him. «You have been paying attention, then. What do you think of young Mordred?»

Merlin tried to hide his disappointment at the turn this conversation was having.

«He’s, er, making progress,» he said while sitting on the bed, resting his head on the King’s shoulder in a matter of seconds. The latter smiled, and put a hand on Merlin’s hair, stroking them gently. «He has all the makings of a fine knight, don’t you think?»

The warlock stayed silent for a while, closing his eyes to better feel the vicinity of Arthur, a thing he loved to do since the early days of their courting. In the end, he settled down with a fact, instead of an opinion: «There are many fine knights in Camelot.»

Arthur smiled, calmly, playing with his lover’s hair for the last time before finally getting up to go and participate in the Council’s meeting. «Yes, but if I’m not mistaken, he’ll be one of the finest, and I’m determined he’ll receive nothing but encouragement from me.»

Merlin shrugged, succeeding in stealing a kiss from Arthur’s lips before the two of them had to leave the bedroom. Maybe it wasn’t going to be a bad day after all.

──────────

Arthur was bored to death in the Council chambers, that until Leon spoke up to divulge what the Eastern border’s report said.

«Serious news, I'm afraid, Sire. As you know, a few days ago, our garrison in the Forest of Brechfa intercepted the man who goes by the name of Osgar,» the knight said, watching every one of the men’s faces pale at the sorcerer’s name, even though they weren’t aware of his true power.

He stayed still for a moment, letting the nobles take the information in and digest it, and he started speaking only after what seemed like an eternity: «They were trying to apprehend him when he used his powers to escape. I am sorry to report... Sir Ranulf was mortally wounded.»

Some of the Council’s men gasped, a bunch of them because they knew Sir Ranulf, the others because of the brutality the Camelotian knight was speaking of.

This time it was the King’s burden to break the silence, with just a few words for the guard’s captain: «Place all the men in the Eastern territories on high alert.»

Leon nodded his heart heavy with the loss of a loyal brother in arms such as Ranulf. At the umpteenth Council’s silence, the King spoke up again, his eyes searching Merlin’s ones in the room. «I personally shall lead a patrol to bring this Osgar to justice.»

The warlock bit his lip for a while, afraid to speak up in front of the people who were more likely to judge him, even if he was, by all means, the King’s Consort. «Is it necessary for you to go in person?» he asked just to have the answer he was preparing himself to. «He wasn't just a knight, Merlin, he was a friend. We knew each other as boys, I must go. Have no fear, for I will be perfectly safe. As you said before, I have many fine knights.»

Merlin nodded, not completely sure, just a bit before the Council’s meeting met its end.

──────────

In the King’s chambers, Merlin was trying to pack for the quest, while Arthur was pacing in the room. The only sound was the one made by his boots hitting the floor and, when someone knocked at the door, the two of them almost jumped out of their skins.

When Mordred came in, Merlin relaxed just a bit and decided to sit on the bed, almost to remind the people in the room that it was his, too. The young knight disposed of Merlin’s behaviour as normal Emrys’s jealousy and went on about the reason why he came into the room. «Your Majesty? You wished to see me?»

Arthur finally stopped pacing and, after seeing his Consort on the bed, decided to keep his standing position. «The time has come for you to accompany your King.»

Mordred raised an eyebrow, not completely sure of the extent of Arthur’s request, trying to find his lord’s eyes in the room. No matter what level the hatred between the two was, Mordred often found in Emrys’ facial features the meaning to go on. «My lord?» he said, in the end, unsure if he was speaking to Merlin or Arthur.

Neither of them answered right away, and the knight found himself more unsure than before. Was he being rejected by both of the people whom he swore fidelity to?

Arthur’s answer was the first one to come, while Merlin was still thinking about what was the best thing to say to the druid. While he was proud of him, being a knight and a skilled magician, the prophecy was still something that Merlin couldn’t ignore. «I want you to join me on a patrol to the Black Mountains.»

Mordred’s eyes lightened up, and he didn’t even try to hide the smile that found home on his lips just after. «Me? To Brechfa?» he asked, eyeing Merlin eagerly awaiting for his approval. The latter nodded, though nobody but Mordred saw that, and this just made his smile grow bigger.

I’ll watch every move of yours, said Merlin, his voice clear in the druid’s mind. Even if I can’t trust you yet, you have earned your place. Be ready to ride at dawn.

The knight bowed, to both of his lords, murmuring something in the lines of “I shall be, my lord. You won’t regret this. I promise” while exiting the room, the excitement obvious on his face.

«He has all the makings of an excellent knight,» said Arthur, finally eyeing the bed, a little smile on his lips. He laid down, waiting for Merlin to do the same. When the warlock did that, Arthur wrapped him in a hug, his lips fast on his lover’s temple. «I do believe you’ve grown fond of him,» Merlin said, his body pressed against Arthur’s, his hand on the King’s cheek, yet completely still.

«He’s a good fighter, a brave knight,» Arthur tried to answer, and Merlin just nodded, trying to find something to say as a remark. «He’s young.»

Arthur wanted to say something like “so were you when you came here”, but the words died in his mouth. Thinking about the time Merlin had to live under his father’s reign – under the promise of a public execution as a sorcerer – made him feel bad. Made him think about the fact that almost three years into his reign, he still hadn’t repealed the ban against magic.

«Where would any of us be, Merlin, if no one had given us a chance?» he said, then, feeling his Consort squeezing a little against him, and tucking their blankets in.

«You should sleep,» said Merlin, and Arthur did just that, giving himself to Morpheus without resistance.

──────────

Merlin fidgeted with the ring on his finger, the one Hunith gifted him when Arthur proposed. It was one of her most important possessions since it had been Balinor’s before, but she decided that if her little bird was to marry, he needed to have something to remember him of home.

He smiled at the memory, gripping the reigns of the brown mare he was mounting a little steadier.

Meanwhile, Leon and the other knights were having fun with the new knight – something they always did, to ensure that the bond between the Knights of Camelot was at every time forged in the best of friendships. «You sure you haven't forgotten anything, Mordred?»

Mordred paled at this, mainly because he didn’t want to disappoint Arthur nor Merlin, and asked, agitated: «D’you think so?»

At this, the others tried to hide their smirks and started to list things that the druid most certainly didn’t forget.

«Isn't he missing a dagger?» came the voice of Leon, the noble sure on his horse.

«I can't see a water bottle,» remarked Elyan, the smile badly hidden on his lips.

«His boot. He's missing a boot,» decided Percival in the end, finally making all of the knights laugh, and Mordred repeated to himself that those were Emrys’ friends, and he shouldn’t kill them.

«Gentlemen,» said Arthur in the end, his voice putting an end at the knights’ banter.

«Merlin?» asked Gwen, her new dress – acquired when she became the Kings’ First Advisor – gentle on her body, the gryffin pin that symbolized Lancelot’s knighthood fierce just upon her heart. The warlock turned to her, his expression unsure, as he didn’t want to go. «You will take care of him?»

Merlin smiled the thin layer of red cloth which his cloak was made of shamelessly flattering behind him and the fact that his friends knew of some of his birth gifts making his heart light. «He doesn't always make it easy,» was what he said, even though he nodded, trying not to think about all those times when he almost lost him.

She responded with a smile and a whispered “I know”, which was Merlin’s clue to follow the men and take his rightful place next to the King.

──────────

«It is a tradition,» said Leon, almost immediately finding Elyan to buck him up with: «Goes back years.»

Percival couldn’t resist, so he added, smiling: «We all had to do it on our first patrol.»

At this Arthur turned around and, seeing his youngest knight sat backwards on his horse, couldn’t find a way to repress a laugh. «Mordred, what on earth are you doing?» he asked, his words making Merlin turn too. At the warlock’s attempt at hiding a laugh, Mordred decided that killing the Camelotians knights was the only intelligent thing to do.

«Melding the saddle, my lord,» said the druid, his cheeks red and his voice unsure, feeling a little calmer when Gwaine said: «As in the ancient tradition... of melding.»

Arthur chuckled softly, the words leaving his mouth before he could think of stopping them. «Of course. I trust your breeches are on inside out?»

At this Merlin let the mask he wore just for the Council’s men fall, a brief smile on his lips and, his blue eyes shining in the light. Arthur replied with just a smile, full of love and devotion, things Merlin never thought he’d have seen in an Arthur who was aware of his magic.

Not that Arthur knew everything, like the talk he had with his father’s spirit about his magic, or the fact that he, indeed, had known his father. Those were pieces of information that were futile for the King’s wellbeing, so they were unimportant and mostly overlooked by the warlock himself.

──────────

Gwaine raised a hand in the sky, the “stop” signal easily for everyone to interpret. At the questioning look on his lord’s face, his response was just: «It's Osgar. He's close.»

Percival nodded and after he found a piece of cloth, said: «He’s getting careless.»

While Arthur examined the fabric in his hands, Mordred went just a little forward and, with his sword raised, asked: «Sire?»

Arthur turned in the druid’s direction, all of this while Merlin was carefully controlling the situation, staying just behind them. They saw the sorcerer moving in the wood and, without wasting time, they ran after him, two by two until Gwaine and Elyan found him sitting on a fallen tree and drinking from his waterskin.

The drunken knight approached him silently, taking the sword out of the sheath without a sound, while the blacksmith’s son followed him not long after. In the end, it was Gwaine who broke the silence, making the sorcerer turn. «Who are you? What's your purpose?» he said, his sword fiercely on his dominant hand.

Osgar got up, his face emotionless, and said: «I was beginning to fear you had taken the wrong path,» thing that made Gwaine repeat his question, his voice just a little bit high. «Who are you?»

At the obvious last chance to make the encounter remain peaceful, the sorcerer decided to oblige the knight’s request. «My name is Osgar. And I have an important message for your King. Take me to him.»

Elyan moved a bunch of steps forward, and responded with: «It’ll be our pleasure,» pointing his sword at the sorcerer’s throat. At this, Osgar responded with: «do you not know who I am?»

Gwaine decided to take the floor and said: «you are a sorcerer, a heretic and a murderer,» words that made Osgar shake his head and say: «No. Just a man who values his freedom. Take me to your King,» he made the knights lower their swords, a thing that, of course, the two found wrong, seeing that they raised them again. At this the man lost his patience and, hands raised before him, said: «Would you challenge me?», while the knights’ swords flew from their hands. Gwaine was quicker than him, and so his dagger was stuck in the man’s stomach before he had the mind to pronounce any kind of enchantment.

Osgar bent over, his hand on his side, trying to stop the bleeding. The knights moved forward to see the damage the dagger did and, taking advantage of this, the sorcerer cried: «Forth fleoge!», making the knights fall backwards in the wood.

Osgar then got up again, his face a display of the pain he was feeling, but walking in the rest of the party’s direction nonetheless. He found what he was looking for seconds after, in the silhouettes of Mordred, Merlin and Arthur, turned with their back on him. As a stick broke under his feet, the three of them turned quickly, their red cloaks were long forgotten on the back of their horses.

Arthur shouted a “stop”, while he and his two magical protectors walked forward to the sorcerer, who knelt on the forest floor. «Sire... My name is Osgar,» he said, his head down.

Merlin watched him eagerly, studying every one of his movements as his King was slowly getting closer to him. After a few seconds, Arthur answered, «I know who you are,» while pointing his sword at the man’s throat, just to feel safe.

Osgar changed his expression from a pained one to an almost fierce one, the fact that he was speaking in the Triple Goddess’ blessing helping him find the courage to do so. «I am sent from the sacred Disir to pass judgement on Arthur Pendragon, the Once and Future King.»

Mordred responded, without skipping a beat, the fact that he had once been a druid being the reason why he was the only one who knew what the Disir represented: «What right have you to pass judgement?»

The sorcerer looked at Mordred strangely, as he was asking himself why a being who smelled like magic was loyal to a Pendragon when his sixth sense made him feel the vicinity of his deity’s child, the one the humans had taken pleasure in calling “Emrys”. He nodded, at this, even though it wasn’t meant for anyone. It made sense that magical people were drawn to other magical people, especially if the second type were as powerful as a God’s child.

«No man is above the Disir - however royal,» he then said, making Mordred lower his sword. «I must pass their judgement on to you, dread King. My sacred duty.» As he said this, he put his hand inside his cloak, just to get something. Mordred moved closer to the man, threatening him with his sword, now raised again. The sorcerer got a coin-shaped token out of his pocket, which both the King and the Consort watched as closely as possible, with ruins on it. At his King’s stare, Mordred lowered his sword again.

«Your hand... Arthur Pendragon,» said Osgar, and waited for the King of Camelot to reveal his gloved hand before putting the token on it. As he tried to not fall on the floor, blood loss being the reason, he murmured ”it is done”, words at which Arthur responded with a questioning: «What is the meaning of this?»

Osgar took a moment to think about the answer, sure that only the truth was going to satisfy the King’s need to understand. After a bunch of seconds, he spoke, his blue eyes pointed in Merlin’s cerulean ones: «It is both judgement and fate. You have waged war on the people of the Old Religion. Now the ancient gods answer you. The Disir has spoken. The circle of fate begins to close. For even as Camelot flowers, the seeds of her destruction are being sown.»

The warlock’s response was to raise an eyebrow, for he knew who his mother was, even though they didn’t have a real bond these days, and he knew that her hand was behind all this.

Arthur turned his head to Merlin, who was slightly behind him, as he saw that the sorcerer was speaking to him in particular, and asked: «What nonsense is this?»

Osgard took Arthur’s hand in his and, trying not to be impressed by the amount of power Emrys had unleashed just to frighten him, spoke again: «It is not too late, Arthur. Not too late to find the true path. Redeem yourself. No further chance shall be given,» falling on the ground just after, dead on the spot.

──────────

Merlin was piling stones one upon the other, his gaze lowered and what seemed similar to a prayer leaving his lips. As he heard Mordred approach, his work stopped, and his face suddenly snapped up to the druid’s direction. «What would the King say, Merlin? Sorcerers are not permitted marked graves. Not officially.»

The Consort frowned a bit, then released a quite shaky breath. «What Arthur doesn’t see can’t hurt him. And he’ll come around, eventually, just- give him time. You would have done the same.» At the misplaced druid’s apologies, Merlin shook his head, waiting for the rest of Mordred’s words that came into the form of: «He was one of us, after all. D’you really believe that?»

Merlin nodded, his -too-long- hair falling right in his eye. He thought of the last time he cut them- Arthur was the one that did it, his hands secure on the scissors and his fingertips cold that made him laugh so much. And now they were going to have a conversation with the Disir, and the Disir was going to tell everyone the truth. And there would be no more laughing alone on the big bed of the Kings’ bedroom.

«One day we’ll live in freedom again,» he said, his voice secure and just a tiny flick of power in his words to ease the young druid’s spirit. «Until then,» replied Mordred, his voice unsure but still less scared than before, «we go unmarked in death as in life.»

#word count: 3k+#merlin #merlin bbc #merthur #merthur fic #My WIP #wip #the disir #boolscanon #boolswriting

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rainbowwing251 · 3 years

Note

Yo! How’ve you been? If it ain’t too much trouble, could you spare some headcanons for Pit, Dark Pit, and Palutena?

I’m hanging in there! I got frustrated with two of my current college classes yesterday, but other than that, I’ve been doing well!

I really need to watch Chuggaaconroy’s LP of Kid Icarus: Uprising... Or better yet, I should get the game and play it myself.

But at the same time, I think these three have personalities that are relatively easy to figure out and understand. Nonetheless, I did some research, just to make sure that these headcanons were as accurate to the characters as possible.

Just in case this is necessary, there may be spoilers for Kid Icarus: Uprising. I’m not sure if anything that I have written here is a blatant spoiler, but I will still be cautious about that.

My posts have probably hinted at this, but in case they didn’t, I think that Pit would be a lee. In fact, he is the second biggest lee in the entire Smash roster. Or at least, that’s what I like to think.

Pit gets into lee moods quite often, so much so that if he doesn’t experience a lee mood at any point in a single day, people will either think that he had a ler mood instead, or that something made him upset.

On some occasions, the above theories are true. Pit has lee moods quite often, but that doesn’t mean that he will always be in one. Sometimes, he’s just not in the mood. Other times, he is genuinely upset about something, and it kills his lee mood. And on some occasions, his lee mood will be replaced by a ler mood. This is a rare occurrence in his world, but it is a bit more common in Smash.

After the incident with the Ring of Chaos, the Chaos Kin, and the scorching of his wings, Pit nearly lost his lee side due to trauma. However, it would gradually recover until it finally came back in full force after an approximate time period of two years. This time period was the time that took place between the ending of Kid Icarus: Uprising, and Super Smash Bros. for Nintendo 3DS and Wii U.

He used to be the biggest lee in the entire Smash roster back in the Brawl days, but he lost this title to Shulk when he got invited to Smash, though Pit didn’t know about this until a few months had passed after the events of World of Light.

Was he mad about this? Absolutely not! He didn’t have a fellow lee until Shulk told him about his lee moods, so he’s very happy to have a friend who understands his feelings about tickling!

His worst spots are his feet, underarms, and wings. While all three of these spots are equally as ticklish as the other two, his wings tend to be even more sensitive than his feet or underarms. However, this is only the case if you target the base of his wings. Why? Because this spot isn’t just a worst spot, it is a death spot.

PIt is a squirmer, and he will constantly wiggle around while he laughs his head off. He’ll flap his wings, too, so be sure to watch out for that while you are tickling him, because he might hit you in the face by accident. If that happens, he will be very upset with himself for hurting you.

The best way to avoid being hit in the face by Pit’s wings is to pin him down on his back. That way, he won’t be able to flap them very well, and this will decrease your chances of being hit in the face. This does not guarantee that he won’t hit you in the face accidentally, though, so remain cautious.

While you’re tickling him, you might notice that despite all of the squirming, Pit will try to resist fighting back against you. Why is that? Well, it’s simple really: he loves being tickled! It brings happiness to both him and his ler, so he doesn’t want it stop!

Of course, there are a few situations in which he will have to ask for the tickling to stop, but this isn’t a common occurrence.

He tends to wander around the Smash Colosseum and tickle people as they walk by. Sure, that might result in him being tickled to death, but he thinks that it’s worth it.

Almost all of the story-relevant characters of Kid Icarus: Uprising target Pit, but out of all of them, Palutena, Dark Pit, Viridi, and Phosphora will target him far more often than any of the other characters. Dark Pit and Palutena will continue to target him once they get into Smash, but on rare occasions, Cloud and Shulk will target him too. If they do decide to go after him, they’ll either target him separately, or tag team him. No matter who the ler is, Pit is fucked. But does that matter to him? No!

As a ler, Pit is very playful! He’ll sometimes get in the mood to sneak up on another member of the Smash roster and pounce on them, before tickling them to pieces.

Pit tends to tickle his lees in whatever way he pleases. He doesn’t come up with a plan for any of his lees. However, he will take advantage of a person’s weakness towards a specific type of teasing (which I will get to in a second), or feathers.

He tends to tease his lees by using baby talk. Dark Pit is the primary target of this type of teasing, since he knows that he hates it. If Dark Pit isn’t around, he’ll use this type of teasing on Shulk instead, since he is very weak to it.

As I implied a few sentences ago, Pit likes to use the feathers from his wings as a tickle tool. Unfortunately for him, he is also weak to feathers, so if you want to turn the tables on him while he’s tickling you with a feather, try to take the feather from him and use it against him.

When it comes to Pit being a ler, his only has one problem: he can’t remain that way for long. He is far too ticklish for his own good, and people can use his ticklishness against him to punish him for his mischief.

In his world, his main lee is Dark Pit. Sure, he may get obliterated by him afterwards, but he is the only person from his world that he can stand a lick of a chance against. This doesn’t change when Dark Pit gets into Smash, but Pit will eventually get another lee: Shulk. Shulk is even more ticklish and even more of a lee than he is, and that’s saying a lot.

Moving on to Dark Pit, he doesn’t like the idea of tickling at all (or at least, that’s what he tells himself). However, he will occasionally become a ler if someone refuses to stop tickling him (I’m looking at you, Pit and Palutena).

Dark Pit is a lot more violent when he’s the lee. He will trash about to try and throw you off of him. He will try to grab your wrists and force your hands away from his body. He’ll flap his wings, much like the real Pit, and if he hits you in the face with them, he will not apologize for it.

Despite all of this, there is something that you should know about Dark Pit: He secretly likes the positive attention that he gets from a ler. He is a bit insecure about his existance as a clone of Pit, but he will never admit to it. However, after tickling him, you might notice a more positive change in his behavior. It is a slight change, but if you look hard enough, you’ll see it.

Dark Pit’s worst spots are exactly the same as Pit’s worst spots.

In his world, his main lers are Pit, Palutena, and Viridi. In Smash, Pit and Palutena retain this role, but he doesn’t get any new lers. Everyone is too scared of him punching them in the face outside of battle.

As a ler, Dark Pit is similar to Pit, except that he is a lot more merciless.

Like Pit, he doesn’t come up with plans for dealing with a specific lee, but he does display his preference towards heavier tickling. If you are weak to that, then good luck with surviving that.

For the most part, he doesn’t show his lees any mercy when he tickles them. However, he will never tickle someone into unconsciousness, because even he’s not that cruel.

Teasing? Nope, Dark Pit doesn’t like to do that while he’s tickling someone, unless Pit is the one being tickled. If that’s the case, then he will taunt him. Some of the taunts he uses include, “Pft, you’re so ticklish. How could someone as weak as you win against me?”, and, “Lady Palutena can’t save you now. If anything, she would join in. Would you still love your goddess if she did that to you?”

He tends to not use the feathers on his wings as a tickle tool, but on some occasions, he’ll take a feather from one of his wings and tickle his lee with it. Much like his counterpart, he will use this to his advantage if he finds out that his lee is weak to feathers.

Dark Pit is capable of being the ler for a longer period of time, due to his ability to fight back against counterattacks. However, he is just as ticklish as the real Pit is, so he is somewhat easy to take down.

In his world, Pit is the only one that Dark Pit will target. In Smash, this still stands, but thanks to his counterpart, he begins to target Shulk as well.

And now, Palutena. If there were to be a top ten list of the most dangerous lers in Smash, she would be on there. As for her position, she would probably be at number 5 or number 6.

Tickling her is incredibly difficult. She knows that you’re thinking about it, and she knows that you will try to sneak up on her. If you somehow manage to tickle her while her guard is down, she is rather ticklish for a goddess.

Her worst spots are her ears and her hips. If she has her Goddess Wings out, then she will expose another worst spot: the wings themselves.

You can’t pin her down that easily, but at the very least, you can make her squirm. Try to make her squirm to the point that she will fall over on accident, because that is one of the few opportunities that you will have to pin her down and go to town. Watch out, though. She will try to retaliate against you by reaching her hands up and tickling you when you least expect it.

I really should be making headcanons on what a character’s laughter would sound like, but I tend to have a bit of trouble with that. However, with Palutena, I think I can describe her laughter pretty easily, and I’m pretty sure that I will only need these two words: light and carefree. Actually, add heart-melting to that list.

In her world, Palutena’s main lers are Pit and Dark Pit (though they have a hard time staying in that position). This doesn’t change when all three of them get to Smash. However, Smash did give her a third ler: Bayonetta.

When Palutena is the ler, she is just as playful as Pit, if not more playful.

She prefers to keep her tickling light, but if she knows that you have a weakness to heavier tickling, then she will go for that instead.

Similar to Sephiroth, Palutena knows every technique that she can use to tickle her lees, and she is very observational when it comes to a person’s weaknesses. There is a difference between these two, however: Palutena will tease her lees by using a wide variety of tones. Sephiroth doesn’t do this.

In her home world, her main lees are Pit and Dark Pit. In Smash, these two are still her main less, but she tends to target Shulk as well.

She’ll occasionally go after two of those three people at the same time. I’m aware that this statement is a bit confusing, so allow me to rephrase it.

On some occasions, Palutena will tickle two lees at the same time. With the above list of lees, there are three possible combinations:

Pit and Dark PIt

Pit and Shulk

Shulk and Dark Pit

Sometimes, Palutena likes to make two people laugh at the same time, and tickling is the best way for her to accomplish this.

As one final note, Palutena is the best person to go to if you want to reveal your love for tickling. She is always happy to hear these admissions, knowing that it takes a lot of bravery for someone to admit something like this to another person.

I might think of more headcanons for these three, but for now, this is what I got for Pit, Dark Pit, and Palutena! I apologize for making you wait a few days. I wasn’t ignoring your ask, I just lost some of my motivation after a particularly frustrating day of classes, as I mentioned at the beginning of the post.

#tickling #the colorful words of the color gray #kid icarus: laughter rising #I’m going to make that my tag for kid icarus: uprising #even though it might not be that clever #tickle tour

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thefugitivemango · 4 years

Text

Character Blogroll

Got the idea from @luminashdawnwing! Thought it’d be fun to post up a listing of my character blogs for those interested!

Argonas the Ironclad

Artwork by @dinnasaw

This Vindicator is a proud and seasoned champion of the Draenei people. He’s pious and resolute, with a flair of xenophobia and zealotry that can make him off-putting at times. Currently he’s wrestling with finding direction and the Light’s purpose for him, guilt at losing his love, and a betrayal by numerous people he once considered friends...

~*~

Avehi the Adamant

Artwork by @kidcatgeminiart

Former Vindicator of the Hand of Argus and current Knight of the Ebon Blade, Avehi the Adamant is as fearless as she is blunt. Her death has opened her eyes to a great many things she feels her people miss or neglect by clinging so fervently to a single path, which has caused her to feel more like an outcast among her kin than undeath alone has already made her. As of late, she’s begun investigating strange disturbances in the afterlife, taking some actions others may consider drastic in order to uncover the mysteries of the Shadowlands...

~*~

Lord Bey’ron Everblaze

Artwork by @vortexqueen

Cunning and calculative, Lord Bey’ron Everblaze is a Magister and member of Quel’Thalas’ Sun Council. His arcane (and fel) prowess is outmatched only by his pride and self-aggrandizing. And while he strives to remain above reproach in all things... he’s certainly not afraid to get his hands dirty and/or bloodstained when the situation calls for it. Still, such menial tasks are best left to those beneath him... which isn’t a very exclusive list, in his eyes!

~*~

Brent Sunborn

Artwork by @kidcatgeminiart

The last of the Blackened Blades, Brent Sunborn (or Brentius Lor’aran, by birth) is a Farstrider-turned-Ghostblade with deadly precision and a killer’s instinct. But unlike most ren’dorei, Brent’s path to the void didn’t follow Magister Umbric’s footsteps, but was rather achieved through adherence and devout service to the Twilight’s Hammer. Now, in the wake of the final Old God’s demise, this assassin struggles to sort out his place and purpose in a post-N’Zoth world...

~*~

Dahlyah Grimshatter

Artwork by Obe

This Dark Iron bounty hunter once served as an Anvilrage reservist in her formative years. Promoting from there to Blackrock Mountaineer, she’s developed her keen hunter’s sense taking down ornery black dragons and other beasts in the unforgiving Burning Steppes and Searing Gorge. Now she adjusts to life as a member of the Alliance, finding it hard to navigate needless rules and customs that now stand between her and her quarry.

Dahlyah’s a new addition to this roster, and a character I’m quite excited to play more! Her blog’s empty for now, but I’ll add to it as her story develops!

~*~

Dr. Gattius Starfrost

Artwork by @kidcatgeminiart

Former Blood Knight and Captain of the ill-fated Phoenix Guard, Doctor Gattius Starfrost now runs a clinic in Eversong Woods. Husband to Magistrix Syrielle Starfrost, this politics-hating and Magistry-despising sin’dorei struggles in keeping his practice afloat, tending to his young son Tannis, and supporting his wife’s ambitions - which now include a foray into nobility!

~*~

Grakkar Gorefang (and Kronk)

Hailing from alternate Draenor, Grakkar Gorefang is an old Warsong raider. Experience has worn this seasoned hunter, but assuming him an easy mark due to his age has led to the demise of many contenders! Currently, he’s laying low and enjoying the post-war peace with his mate and newborn daughter!

~*~

#Character Blogroll #Argonas the Ironclad #Avehi the Adamant #Bey'ron Everblaze #Brent Sunborn #Dahlyah Grimshatter #Gattius Starfrost #Grakkar Gorefang #World of Warcraft #Warcraft #Roleplay #Horde #Alliance

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diddlesanddoodles · 4 years

Text

Dumpling ch. 18

Maevis busied himself for the next hour by returning the books to their proper homes while Barnaby gathered Jae and Nenani over to one side of the table. Under a green cloak, was an old wooden trunk. The wood was worn and dark with age. The metal was unpolished, but strong. With difficulty and a bit of help from Jae, Barnaby lifted away the lid to reveal the treasure inside.

Books. Human sized and bound in black leather.

He ran his finger along the spines of the top layer, scouring the gilded letters.

“A small miracle these survived,” he said. “But I believe the one I want is...ah, yes this one. My boy, would you mind to clear some room here? Those paint pots are dried so no worry about them spilling.”

Jae obediently made room on the small work table as the older man pulled one book out slowly and with great care before placing it open upon the table. He gestured for Nenani to come look. She had a little learning of letters, but had not been very studious and the years of disuse after her parent’s deaths had left her reading comprehension sorely lacking. “I’m not very good with letters.”

“Oh, well we will have to sort that out in the future. But for now, I will read them to you. These pages list the names of men who were all apart of the Thorn Guard. Listed by family. This page here is where the Family Daelg begins. And as you can see...” he flipped through several pages. “...there are many of them. Your forefathers were all in the guard for many many year. One of the oldest serving families. Protecting the King and kin.”

“Papa guarded the King? Really?” She drew up an image of her father in her mind and had no diffuculties reconciling with image. In her eyes, her father had always held all the qualities of a knight from stories he read her. Brave, selfless, and loyal. It warmed her heart to know she had been right, but it fueled her need to know more.

“No, he was not high enough in rank to be so close to the King himself. Your grandfather would have, yes. Often. In fact I do believe that was his last official post. But here, look.”

The archivist ran his finger along bottom of the page. “This your father’s entry. Hayron. Born to Hayier Daelg by his wife Maudre on the fourth of September in ninth year of King Haeral’s rule. Your Uncle, Halden was born little over a year later in the winter.”

There was not much more about her father or uncle in the book and very little revealed itself in the other tomes. But Barnaby was gracious enough to tell her stories her remembered about them when he was still the archivist for Silvaara. However, she was able to get a better picture of her Grandfather, Hayier. As captain of the Thorn guard, his name repeatably popped up throughout the pages.

“They use to call him Old Ironwood, because he was so straight and unyielding,” he told her. “He was a fierce fighter, your grandfather.”

“You should come to open call and see Rheil break in the new recruits,” Jae suggested. “It’s in a few days, isn’t it?”

“Yes, I believe so.”

“Seeing as she’s got Thorn Guard blood,” Jae grinned at Nenani and poked her with his elbow. “Maybe she’ll pick up a few things.”

Barnaby looked as though he were about to protest, but was cut off by Maevis. “Oh dear. My friends, we may have a problem.”

The three humans looked to see the magician standing near one of the windows with a small stack of books in his arms, one arm still holding one out as he was slipping it into an empty spot on the shelf. He was looking down at something below.

“What’s wrong?” Jae asked.

“Just now, I noticed Hev leave the west side corridor.”

Jae’s face fell. “Oh….oh, that’s bad.”

Nenanmi turned to Jae and asked, “Why is that bad?”

He sighed and rubbed a hand through his hair before giving her a sympathetic glance. “Because that means he’s coming back from the kitchens.”

Nenani felt her insides turn as understanding settled in. “Maybe he was just getting a snack?”

Barnaby placed a hand on Nenani’s shoulders. “I am afraid my dear that the proverbial cat, as they say, is out of the bag.”

“So that means...” She trailed off with a groan.

“Yep,” Jae replied. “Farris knows you lost your marker.”

………………………

They had left the library, saying their goodbyes to Maevis and Barnaby, and made the slow trek back through the tunnels towards the kitchens. Jae tried to reassure her that they could still potentially come upon the marker somewhere along the tunnels in a fortuitous turn of luck. Grateful as she was for his continued optimism, she knew without giving it concrete consideration that it would be a fruitless venture. It was gone forever. Plain and simple. And she felt sure that facing Farris was a much better direction to take. How could she ever explain to Jae or to anyone what she had seen? How could she ever find her way back, even if she wanted to prove that she had not been making the whole thing up?

The moment they stepped into the dark, she had expected to hear the voices again, to feel dizzy, or to feel anything beyond the norm. But it was as it had been before. Just a tunnel illuminated by Maevis’s orbs. Nothing strange about it. As they moved along the path, she kept a close eye on the light, worried that any second they were disappear and the heat-less flames would come back, beckoning them both towards the catacombs. But they did not. She decided in that moment that it had never happened and she never needed to waste another thought on what lay deep inside the walls of Vhasshal.

Jae sensed her anxiety and gave her a cheeky smirk.

“If he’s that mad, you could always stay here in the tunnels with me,” he offered. But his grin faded when he received no reply. “It’ll be OK, y’know. I promise. Farris will yell for a while and maybe make you sweep the kitchen by yourself or something like that. Make a tiny broom for you or something.”

“Yeah,” she replied lowly as they rounded the last corner and could see the door to the kitchen. A faint string of light outlining its shape in the dark. “Maybe.”

Drawing nearer, they could hear Farris hollering nearly twenty feet from the door.

“Oh,” Jae said with a frown. “He’s pissed, alright.”

Nenani grimaced and groaned, not looking forwards to what was to come. She hoped she wouldn’t go deaf. As they approached the tunnel door, Farris’s words became that much more audible. “...COULD YA BE THAT STUPID?! ONE SIMPLE THING!”

“Well, old Hev did mention the request came from Keral,” Yale’s voice, much softer and muffled by the stone, replied. His words were barely heard. “Wouldn’t be shocked if he’s also the reason why.”

Jae glanced over his shoulder and motioned for Nenani to stand behind him and then slowly eased the door open a few inches. It was quite heavy, however and despite his best efforts to make a quite and inconspicuous entry, the hinges creaked. A high pitched shriek of old and oil thirsty metal.

“I COULDN’T GIVE A..” Farris’s voice abruptly cut off at the sound and Jae froze, eyes wide and mouth grimacing. They both stood silently behind the ajar door, waiting for something to happen. Perhaps the two giants would continue on speaking and not notice anything. However, when Farris’s voice struck up again, it had lost almost all of its previous volume and was replaced by an irritated snark. “Well? Ya just gonna skulk behind the fucking door or ya what?”

With a resigned groan, Jae pushed the door open the remainder of the way. Hesitantly and with an uneasy smile, he stepped through and onto the mantel’s surface. Nenani was on his heals, pressing herself behind him as if to shield her from the sight of the giants. Farris loomed over the pair, a severe scowl plaster upon his face. One hand was clenched at his side while the other was planted firmly on his him.

“Farris, I can explain-” Jae began, but he was completely ignored and without even allowing him to finish, the giant reached out and slammed the door to the tunnel shut. The same hand then turned to grab up the young man and plucked him from the spot where he stood. “WHOA-hey!”

“Yale!” Farris barked while holding Jae out away from his person, never averting his eyes from Nenani. Behind gritted teeth, he hissed, “Find somewhere more fitin’ fer this one to be that ain’t in m’face.”

Yale started, hastily lowering the crock he has been holding onto the table before moving to Farris’s side with alacrity and reaching out for Jae just as Farris’s fingers released their grip. Jae cried out in alarm as he dropped the three feet before landing in Yale’s outreached palms.

“As ya say, Boss!” Yale replied, giving Jae no time to recover or add his own commentary, and promptly sprinted out the archway and into the courtyard.

“Saen!” Farris barked, his eyes still not wavering from Nenani. On the other side of the kitchen, Saen was elbows deep in flour. Upon hearing his name, the young giant jumped, sending a small plume of flour up into the air.

“Uh, yeah?” He asked tentatively.

“Leave it be fer th’moment and go see Bart.”

“Aye, will do.” Same as Yale, Saen quickly made his exit through the archway, leaving Farris and Nenani alone. In that moment of silence, she was reminded of just how imposing a figure Farris was and being the focus of his ire was truly a terrifying experience. It was not wholly dissimilar to their first meeting and though she was absolute in her confidence he would not harm her, she could help but shrink away.

“Don’t suppose ya have some shit of a’reason fer not having yer marker, eh?” he began sternly. His voice strained as he struggled to maintain his tone. He waved a hand at her before crossing both arms and staring at her expectantly. “Well then, let’s have it.”

Her tongue felt twice its normal size and all she managed was a few false starts and stutters.

“Yer gonna just gap at me like a fucking lipper or is that all ya got?”

“N-no...” she managed to mumble out quietly.

“Gonna have t’be doin’ better than that, Dumplin,” said the spice master. He opened one palm to reveal a small scrap of leather at the end of which dangled a piece of struck metal. Her new maker. “You remember at all why these are important?”

“So...so other Vhasshalans leave me alone,” she replied, swallowing thickly against the growing tightness in her throat.

“NO!” Farris roared. “ITS SO THEY DONT FUCKIN’ EAT YA!”

Nenani jumped, stumbling back until her shoulders hit the wall and she stared wide eyed up at the giant. Hot tears fell rolled down her cheeks. Farris was red in the face and snarling, his anger open and on show. It was too hard to meet his gaze and she averted her eyes to stare at her feet.

“Thrist aint’ th’only fucker that would try t’gut n’ roast ya if he thought he could get away with it. Are ya soft in the brain t’ave forgotten that?”

“No, I-I just...I’m sorry...” Nenani whimpered.

“And ya’d be even sorrier if...”

“Farris,” said a voice from the archway, cutting his words short. Farris turned to glance over his shoulder, giving Nenani a clear view of the doorway. Captain Rheil, dressed in his red boiled leather armor stood under the entryway, and wearing a somber and serious expression. “Forgive my interruption, but I need to speak with you.”

“Can’t ya see I’m busy?” Farris growled in annoyance, but the gray haired giant’s steel gaze never wavered.

“Believe me, you will want to make time for this,” he replied. “This matter concerns the humans.”

Farris turned fully face Rheil, head tilted in interest. “Alright, on with ya then. What other trouble have these wee brats managed?”

“Nothing like that,” the captain replied, taking Farris’s affirmative response as invitation to enter, and he stepped into the kitchen proper. “This matter involves all the humans on castle grounds, I am afriad. There have been several troubling reports.”

“Reports? What reports?”

“You’re familiar with Queen Rosanna’s personal guard, Creag, correct?” Rheil asked. When Farris grunted an affirmation, he continued. “I’ve also been fielding complaints about him since the Ibronian procession arrived last month. Harassing wait staff and some of my men for the most part, but he has also made several threats against both Sawyer and Connar. There has been a sharp uptake in his behavior and the Ibronian has been outright violent since the wedding, but today both Maevis and Keral came to me about him explicitly trying to kill Jae near the Royal apartments. Your ward was reportedly with him at the time of the incident.”

Though she could not see his face, Nenani watched the muscles of Faris’s back pull taught and his fits ball up.

“That fish nosed fuck tried t’murder two children right under the King nose?” Farris’s demanded. It was a tone Nenani had not heard him use and it felt much more dangerous than his normal level of anger. A deep, guttural growl with real vehemence behind it. He fixed the captain with a razor edged glare. “Rheil, yer lot better be doin’ somethin’ ‘bout this fucker. ‘Cause I can’t be promisin’ ya that me and my boys won’t.”

The captain seemed to have anticipated this reaction and held up a placating hand. “My men are escorting him to an audience with the King as we speak and I have plenty of witnesses to attest to the event. My main mission in coming to you was to let you know to keep a short leash on the lil’un for a while. Keep her down here and out of sight while things are taken care of upstairs.”

“Aye.”

“And since the brat’s already down here as well, that makes my task all the simpler. The King requests the same of Jae. Don’t allow him to squirrel away some place of his own choosing. The King has ordered him to remain down here and under your supervision until his Majesty comes to collect him in person.”

Farris cursed and shook his head, running a hand through his hair. “Gods piss on it all. It’s fuckin’ Baynor all over again.”

“Luckily for us, the Ibronian does not posses nearly the political currency as my predecessor,” Rheil replied. “However, the Queen has an ample supply and my observations have been that she is heavily reliant on him.”

“Ya expectin’ any trouble?”

“No,” Rheil replied. “Nothing so bad as when Baynor was ousted. But I would rather be prepared in any case and his Majesty was very clear. Jae is to remain here.”

For a long moment, no one said anything and Nenani wondered if she had been forgotten entirely.

“Aye,” Farris said finally and nodded. “They’ll be watched well and good.”

Rheil hummed in approval and tilted his head to the side to look passed Farris to fix Nenani with a warm smile. “Haven’t see ya in a good long while, lass. Hope that walking boulder didn’t hurt ya none.”

Nenani shook her head. “No. He wasn’t really going after me.”

“So I’ve been told,” Rheil said. “Jae does seemed to have been th’ main target, but I have no doubt he’d have just as well treated ya to the same had he caught ya. Keral mentioned he found ya wanderin’ ‘round by yerself. Lost in the halls without yer marker.”

There was a teasing nature to Rheil’s words.

“S’that how ya lost it then, eh?” Farris asked, pinning her with one green eye.

She shrugged meekly. “I don’t remember it falling off. I had it and then I didn’t. I was running a lot.”

Farris sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, before turning to her and walking up to the mantel. He held her new marker aloft between two fingers and as she reached out to take it, he told her firmly, “Best be learnin’ to take better care of it, Dumplin’. ‘Cause if yer ever needin’ another anytime in the next ten years, I’ll be tying one end of a short lead to ya and th’ other to a lipper barrel and ya can live in the yard.”

She stared and then nodded fervently before quickly clipped the leather around her neck. The metal was almost hot from being clenched in Farris’s fist for so long, but there was a measure of comfort with the now familiar weight being back along her collar bone. She peeked up at the kitchen master, cautiously optimistic.

“So...does this mean I’m not in trouble anymore?”

#g/t writing #dumpling #Giant/tiny #Fantasy Story #Nenani #Jae #Barnaby #Maevis #Kera #giants #humans #Vhasshal #Rheil

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berjhawn · 4 years

Text

Angel On Fire - Ch. 3 - Fitting In

(*Gif not mine* Credit to the owner)

Warnings: Heartbreaks ; angst ; fluff ; fighting ; mentions of death ; slight Smut ; mentions of sex ; ETC

Pairings: Bucky Barnes X Reader ; Thorin Oakenshield X Reader ; Bucky X Reader X Thorin ; Marvel X Reader X Hobbit

Summary: Heartbroken and Lost the reader finds herself stranded in a strange but familiar land filled with creatures of fantasy. joining the company of Thorin Oakenshield, (Name) travels across Middle Earth in search of a way to make it back to her home and the people that love her.

Master-list in Bio

A/N : Sorry this Chapter its over 4k words but I needed to fit it all in this chapter so yeah. Hope you enjoy! Please leave me a like and comment on how it’s going and what you think please.

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I stare at the woods before us and I let out a frustrated sigh as I think to myself, ‘You never know how convenient cars are until you don’t have one.’ I glance ahead at the group of dwarves riding their ponies along like they were having no problems and I groan inwardly. Walking sucks. Running a hand through my hair I look at the leader of this small group and find myself wondering about him. I had learnt his name was Thorin, just as I had learned the names of all the other Dwarves, hobbit, and wizard. I had to admit their names were a little on the odd side but then again, they were probably normal for this world.

Thorin, the leader, was a bit on the pompous mysterious side. I could tell he didn’t exactly like the idea of bringing me along. If I had the choice, I wouldn’t have been here either, but shit happened and here I was. Besides the arrogance, I could tell that his kin loved and trusted him. They would follow him to the ends of the earth without a second thought. I had to admit he intrigued me.

The rest of the dwarves, save for Dwalin, seemed to enjoy my company. They liked to ask me about my home and I would laugh at their stunned and confused expressions at things they didn’t understand. They were very kind men. Bilbo was very curious. He was even more curious about the thought that my world had billions of books and songs. He couldn’t believe there were that many people in my world.

Gandalf was strange, and I had met very strange people in my world, but he ranked at the top. It seemed like he had some kind of inclination about what had brought me here, but he wouldn’t say anything. It made me suspicious but there was nothing I could really do. I couldn’t read his mind. I didn’t have that kind of ability unfortunately.

Looking around at the scenery I am entranced by its beauty. This place might be different from what I was used to but that didn’t mean it wasn’t gorgeous. There was something magical about the landscape. I couldn’t quite put my finger on it, but this place felt right. Like I was right where I belonged. It was a rather strange situation. For now, I would have to shrug it off and soldier on.

The sudden howl a wolf sends the entire company into a panic as their eyes dart around trying to find the howls owner. “What’s going on?” I ask in confusion at their actions.

“Wargs.” Kili tells me making me cock and eyebrow at him in confusion.

“I don’t know what that is, is it bad?” I ask confusion filling my face and he nods.

“Very bad.” He replies, and I feel fear wash over me. If they were nervous then I should be the same. I look around but see no sight of whatever a Warg was.

“Keep your eyes open.” Thorin orders all of us to do as we slowly make our way further down the trail. I feel my heart start to race at the thought of an unknown assailant. What was a Warg? Why was the rest of my company terrified of it? Biting my lip, I slowly follow along with their cautious footsteps as we make our way forward down the road. Thankfully I didn’t find out just yet what a Warg was as we made it safely away from the howls.

Hours later, when we were safe in our camping spot, I find myself once again staring at Thorin. I didn’t know why but I could tell he was hiding something dark within his head. What plagued his brain? As if he felt my gaze, his eyes shifted toward mine and I quickly look away toward where Bombur was making dinner. Clearing my throat, I stand up and walking over ask him, “Would you like some help?”

“Bombur doesn’t really talk lass,” Bofur replies talking for his brother. “But I’m sure he’d like the company.”

“I’m not sure I’m the best company right now.” I say making Bofur look up at me.

“Why not?” He asks straightforwardly making me chuckle.

“I’m not really the type of girl that has a lot of friends, I don’t really socialize that much. I have two true friends but…” I pause as I think about Thor and Loki and how they must be worried sick about me; or did they even realize I was gone. I feel my heart clench at the thought. A little voice in the back of my head whispered dark things to me making me clench my jaw.

“You know, I bet they miss you.” Bofur says pulling me from my own darkness.

“You do?” I ask a slight chuckle leaving my lips.

“Aye lass, if they’re as good of friends as you say, they must be going insane trying to find you.”

“Knowing them… they probably are.” I add making him smirk. “Thank you, Bofur.”

“So, lass, are you hungry?” Bofur asks making me investigate the steaming cauldron. Although it was probably a delicacy for them my pampered stomach churned.

“No, thank you, Bofur; you guys only really have enough for your group. I’ll be fine.”

“You should eat.” I hear Thorin say from behind me causing me to jump slightly. “You’ll need your strength if you wish to keep up with us.”

“I’m not some frail flower, I’m stronger than I look; and I’ve gone without food before.”

“I won’t have you slowing us down. Eat the stew.” He orders, and I narrow my eyes at him.

“No.” I retaliate making a scowl fill his face as unbeknownst to me, the rest of the group had stopped what they were doing to stare at us.

“Fine,” He says shaking his head. “If you cannot keep up, we will leave you behind.”

“Fine.” I conclude moving from them to stand beside Gandalf.

“You seem to have a way with our leader.” He says not taking his eyes off his pipe making me look at him in confusion. “I find it curious as to why you wish to argue with him.”

“I don’t want to argue with him, I just… he reminds me of someone, and it irritates me.” I pause memories filling my head making me furrow my brow.

“Someone you’d rather forget?” He asks, and I instantly shake my head.

“No, I wouldn’t wish to forget anyone. No matter what they have done to me. Their deeds have helped make me who I am.”

“Then why do you look so sad?”

“Because even though they have made me who I am, their actions still hurt.” I answer making him nod.

“You are wiser than I initially believed.” He says as he lights his pipe.

“Not really wise, jut smart to the ways of the world.” I clarify leaning against the rocky cliffside. I stare up at the starry night sky and smile. The night sky always reminded me of Thor and Loki. Were they looking for me? Would they be able to find me? Would I be able to go home with them? I let out a heavy sigh as tears sting my eyes threatening to fall.

“Please excuse me, I need to see to something.” Gandalf says as he leaves the group and walks off into the night.

“What are you thinking about?” I hear a voice ask and I turn to see Bilbo sitting a few feet away from me his eyes focused on me.

“I’m just thinking of my home and the people I left behind.” I answer honestly making him nod.

“What was your home like?” He asks, and I chuckle.

“So much different than here.” I reply moving to sit beside him. “I would tell you about it, but I fear it would be too much to understand and I doubt you would truly believe me.”

“Are there dwarves where you are from?” Kili asks and I nod as I turn to meet his gaze.

“There are. Although they are a bit different from you all.” I answer making Kili smile.

“What do you do where you’re from?” Fili asks, and I bite my lip as I think about how to answer. I didn’t really know these men and my past experiences with telling people what I am hasn’t always turned out the best. I decide to give them a piece of the puzzle but not the whole thing.

“I, along with a group of people go around the world helping those in need.” I answer making most of them nod while the rest still look confused. “I have medical training, combat training-”

“Combat… then you know how to fight.” Dwalin asks and I nod.

“I’ve been fighting since I was young. I’m sure I’ll fight more before I die.”

“Does that mean you know how to use a sword?” Balin asks and I shudder.

“Honestly, my friend tried to teach me once, but I found the Asgardian swords a little heavy and difficult to move with. Now hand me a gun or some throwing knives and that’s a different story.”

“What’s a gun?” Ori asks making me glance over at the young dwarf.

“I take it you do not have those here?” I ask, and they shake their heads. “Of course. Well they are a little hard to explain. Let’s just say they are very deadly.” I glance from them toward Thorin who was looking out over dark terrain and find myself focused on him. The moonlight reflecting off his raven hair made him look almost ethereal.

“Fili, Kili, aren’t you supposed to be guarding the ponies?” I hear Dwalin say and after some groans about wanting to know more about my world, the brothers file off into the woods. “We’ll send your soup when it’s done.” I feel someone touch my arm and I turn to see Bofur handing me a piece of bread.

“Bofur I can’t accept that; your group needs it more.” I politely refuse making him smirk.

“We’ve got more than enough stew lass, enjoy the bread.” He says gently setting it on my lap and walking away without giving me a chance not to accept it. I let out a sigh as I give up fighting him. A smile fills my cheeks as I tear apart a piece of bread and place it on my tongue. Granted it was a little stale, but it was better than nothing.

“Bofur,” I call making him turn toward me. “Thank you.” He just smiles in return making me chuckle to myself. My hungry stomach welcomes the bread as I quickly wolf it down. I glance at the fire for a moment thankful that I had somehow ended up in the path of such great dwarves when Fili running into camp catches my attention.

“Trolls took some of the ponies. Bilbo went to get them back. Kili’s watching him.” Fili says making me jump to my feet.

“We have to help them. (Name), Stay in the camp.” Thorin yells as the group grabs their weapons and heads off into the woods leaving me behind. I stare the way they had gone unsure of what I was to do. Biting my lip, I go against my gut and run after them. I had no idea what I was going to do but if I could help in some way, I would. When I reached them, they were all fighting side by side against what I guessed was three massive trolls. I stare in shock for only a moment before they all freeze, and my attention is drawn to two of the trolls who have Bilbo strung up in their hands like they were about to quarter him.

I stare wide eyed at them. I had seen some weird shit as an avenger, but this was different. Middle Earth was a mysterious place and I instantly found myself wanting to see more. I hide in the woods as the trolls place them all in sacks. I contemplate rushing out and helping them, but I didn’t know how that would pan out. I let out a heavy sigh as I reach up and rub my forehead. I could help them with one of my little gifts but if I did that they might see.

Back in my world Mutants weren’t really accepted, especially one like me; would here be different? I let out a sigh as I turn back toward them and placing my hand on the ground feel the earth answer my call. It rumbles beneath my fingertips causing a smile to fill my lips. My powers still worked here. Taking a deep breath, I send out vines toward the trolls. I hear one troll scream as a vine wraps itself around his ankle making him jump around and frighten the rest of the trolls.

“What’s wrong with you?!” One roars as he looks back to where his brother had just been.

“There’s somethin’ tryin’ ta grab me!” He roars, and I smirk as I calm the vines. The other trolls look around them but see nothing.

“You’re seeing things.” Another replies as he hits the scared one with a ladle over the head. I cock an eyebrow as Bilbo stands up and starts saying something drawing their attention.

“What are you doing Bilbo?” I ask barely above a whisper before I catch the sight of something moving out of the corner of my eye. Before I have a chance to do anything else, Gandalf appears yelling out, “The Dawn will take you all!” I watch as he brings his staff down against the rock making it split in half. Light spills through the broken stone causing the Trolls to scream out in agony as they slowly start to turn to stone. I stare in shock as I think to myself, “Okay… that just happened.”

Sensing that it was safe to come out I stand up and slowly walk out towards them. Bilbo catches a glimpse of me and smiles as he says, “It’s good they didn’t get you too (Name).”

“Yeah…” I drag out as I close the distance between the trolls and myself. As I reach them, I cautiously reach out to touch them as if to make sure they were in fact real.

“Have you never seen Trolls before (Name)?” Bofur asks and I shake my head.

“This is a first.” I say honestly a chuckle escaping my lips.

“I’m surprised at you.” Thorin says making cock an eyebrow at him. “You did as I said and stayed in camp.”

“Oh, yeah, well, I don’t know a thing about trolls, so, I figured, you know, stay in the campsite.” I ramble making me mentally kick myself.

“Right, well, I’m glad you’re safe.” Gandalf interjects making me let out a sigh of relief.

Biting my lip, I turn from them and my attention goes back to the trolls. How many trolls were in this world and would we meet more along the way? I let out a heavy sigh when Thorin calls us all to look for a cave. I follow behind Fili and Kili as we make our way through the wood only to be called back as Thorin calls out that he has found it. Following his call, we are suddenly hit with a foul smell and I gag.

“You alright?” I hear Fili ask and I nod.

“I’ll be okay, it just stinks.” I answer pulling my shirt over my nose and follow him inside the cave. There were bones littering the ground. The Company finds piles of gold coins and other treasures in caskets. Fili approaches the coins scattered about the ground and says, “Seems a shame to leave it lying around. Anyone could take it.”

“Agreed. Oin, get a shovel.” Gloin says making me chuckle. I look over to Thorin who has made his way over to what looks like a weapons rack and I slowly walk up behind him. Thorin inspects two swords covered in cobwebs. I glance from the swords in his hands to the ones remaining in the rack. Reaching out I pick one up and cock an eyebrow at how light it is. As I pull it form its sheath, I stare in awe at the beautiful craftsmanship. Even though I had been to Asgard many a time I had never seen a blade of this caliber.

I turn to Thorin and smiling ask, “Can I keep this?” He smirks making butterflies fill my stomach.

“Of course, you can, they would just go to waste here.” He replies, and I feel my heart lift in my chest. Turning from me he hands one to Gandalf, unsheathing them. He looks in wonder at the steel. As he continues, “These were not made by any troll.”

“Nor were they made by any smith among men.” Gandalf looks closer at the markings on the blade. “These were forged in Gondolin by the High Elves of the First Age.” Thorin begins to put the sword away in disgust which makes me look at him in confusion but Gandalf glares over at him. “You could not wish for a finer blade!” Reluctantly, Thorin unsheathes the sword, holding it high above him.

“It’s beautiful.” I hear myself say as he admires the workmanship. I watch as he sheathes his sword and then ties it to his waist. I pause for a minute before I realize that I had no way to carry my own new sword. “Um Thorin,” I start making him glance up at me. “How do I tie this around my waist?” He pauses for a moment before he looks around for some sort of leather strap. To my dismay he pulls one off a pile of bones and then taking my sword from me places it on the strap.

“What hand do you use?” He asks, and I instantly hold up my right. “Then you’ll want it on your left hip.”

“I get that part, but won’t it just keep sliding down?” I ask pointing at my hips.

“Well what are these?” He asks pulling at the belt loop of my jeans.

“Belt loops.” I answer as it hits me. I slowly start to slip the leather strap through my belt loops until I am left with two ends of the straps.

“Here,” He says taking the straps from me and pulling them tight ties them together. “Now see if it moves around too much.” He says and I instantly squat down. The sword stays by my side but doesn’t touch the ground. I smile as I stand back up. “How does it feel?”

“Perfect, thank you. Now maybe I can help defend myself a little better.” I answer smiling at him. He nods and turns away from me but not before I see a smirk fill his lips. So, he could smile. I stare off after him for a moment before he hollers, “Come! Let's get out of this foul place.”

The dwarves file behind Thorin, leaving the cave. Gandalf makes to follow them, when his foot hits against something metallic. I pause beside him as he uses the edge of his staff to brush away some leaves. A small sword, wrapped neatly in its sheath, lies in the dirt below. Reaching down, I pick it up and handing it to him say, “Isn’t this about Bilbo’s size?”

“What a good idea.” He says taking the blade from me and heading toward the mouth of the cave where the dwarves are tending to their horses. Gandalf and I emerge from the troll hoard and approach Bilbo. “Bilbo, here. This is about your size.” Gandalf hands it to Bilbo. He looks at the weapon, hesitant.

“I can't take this.”

“The blade is of Elvish make, which means it will glow blue when orcs or goblins are nearby.” Gandalf clarifies, and I raise an eyebrow as I think to myself how convenient that was.

“I have never used a sword in my life.” Bilbo says.

“And I hope you'll never have to. But if you do, remember this: true courage is about knowing not when to take a life, but when to spare one.” Gandalf says, and I find myself thinking back to when I was training with Loki and Thor. Suddenly, loud rustling comes from deep within the forest.

“Something's coming!” Thorin yells and I find myself being pulled into the group of dwarves as they surround me in protection. Gandalf withdraws his sword, running to the dwarves.

“Stay together! Hurry now, arm yourselves.” Gandalf hollers as Bilbo lingers behind. Slowly, he draws out the sword, looking in wonder at the weapon's power. He turns and runs to join the others. Riding at full speed through the trees, is a man led by a Rabbit-Drawn Sled. He bursts through the woods, startling us all.

“Thieves! Fire! Murder!” He yells out as he draws to a halt. The dwarves all have their weapons withdrawn. They look to Gandalf for an explanation of this odd sight.

“Radagast! It's Radagast the Brown.” Gandalf walks towards his fellow wizard. He seems glad about this new arrival. “Give us a few moments please.” Gandalf asks as he and Radagast go off several paces from the dwarves. I turn from where they are talking and back to the dwarves as I ask, “Who’s Radagast the Brown?”

“He’s a wizard, like Gandalf.” Bofur answers making me nod.

“How many wizards are there?” I ask making Bilbo answer.

“Gandalf said there are five. Let’s see there’s Gandalf, Radagast, Saruman the white, and then there are two blue ones.”

“So, wizards have colors in their names?” I ask, and they nod. “What color is Gandalf?”

“He’s grey.”

“Good to know.” I add nodding my head.

From the distance, wolves howl again, and the dwarves perk up in alarm. From behind a nearby crag, a Warg appears. It leaps into the midst of the Company, savage and ferocious. I let out a slight scream as I am knocked off my feet. Thorin buries his sword into its neck, killing it instantly. Another charges from behind. Kili draws an arrow, shooting down the beast. It attempts to pick itself back up, but Dwalin brings his hammer down upon it. The Warg dies with a whimper.

“Warg scouts! Which means an Orc pack is not far behind.” Thorin clarifies as Bofur helps me to my feet.

“Orc pack?” Bilbo and I ask in unison.

“Who did you tell about your quest, beyond your kin.” Gandalf inquires from Thorin as he moves to stand next to him.

“No one.” He replies making Gandalf repeat himself.

“Who did you tell?”

“No one, I swear. What in Durin's name is going on?”

“You are being hunted!”

“Hunted?” I ask making goosebumps cover my skin.

“We have to get out of here.” Dwalin says and I nod. Gloin appears from the crest of the hill as he calls out, “We can't! We have no ponies, they've bolted!”

“I'll draw them off.” Radagast offers making Gandalf shake his head.

“These are Gundabad Wargs, they will outrun you!”

“These are Rhosgobel rabbits!” Radagast says as he points to his rabbits. “I'd like to see them try.” He climbs upon his rabbit led sleigh and as he heads off into the woods I stare after him for a moment before someone grabs my arm and pulls me along. I glance back to see Bofur motioning for me to follow closely to them all.

Pulling me through the trees I see Radagast being chased by what looked like giant wolves with dark riders upon their backs. Gandalf watches from behind a large boulder. Radagast and the pursuing orcs disappear into the distance. “Come on.” Gandalf says as he runs forward, the rest of us trailing behind him. As the chase with Radagast continues in the distance, our group continues to weave in and out of the rocks, led by Thorin and Gandalf. Suddenly, Thorin stops in his tracks. Radagast and the orcs run past us, too close for comfort. Gandalf looks to us as he says, “Stay together.”

As the chase continues, Thorin stops behind a rock so that he is not seen by the Wargs. Ori starts to run out of the cover. “Ori, no! Come back!” Thorin yells and I grab him pulling him back behind cover.

“Come on! Quick!” Gandalf whisper yells and as the dwarves continue running, Thorin turns to Gandalf and says, “Where are you leading us?” Gandalf doesn’t answer.

As the Warg scouts chase Radagast, one of them stops and scents the air. The dwarves take cover behind an outcropping of rock. The scout and his Warg appear on top of the outcropping, scenting the air. Thorin looks at Kili and nods; readying an arrow, Kili quickly steps out and shoots the Warg.

The Warg and the Orc on it fall near the dwarves, and the dwarves kill them. The sounds of their fight carry quite far; the other Wargs and Orcs stop chasing Radagast as they hear roars and screams from behind the rocks. The Warg scouts howl as they stop pursuing Radagast and begin pursuing the Company.

“Move. Run!” Gandalf yells causing us to run through a grassy plain; Wargs begin to surround us from all sides. “This way! Quickly!” Gandalf yells again and I feel Thorin push me ahead of him as he keeps me ahead of him. We run for a while longer, then halt in a clearing as we see Wargs on all sides.

“There’s more coming!” Kili yells and my body fills with fear. Should I use my powers? I ask myself as I watch Kili fire arrows into the orcs and Wargs.

“We’re surrounded!” Fili yells and I grit my teeth as I start to have an internal conflict with myself.

“Where is Gandalf?” I hear Kili say and I momentarily turn from the Orcs to see that he is nowhere to be found.

“He has abandoned us!” Dwalin yells as he ready’s his axe. The dwarves gather close to each other near the rock Gandalf disappeared by. As an Orc and his Warg approach, Ori shoots a rock at him with his slingshot, to no effect. Thorin pulls out his sword.

“Hold your ground!” Thorin yells before suddenly Gandalf pops up from a crack in the rock and yells, “This way, you fools!”

“Come on, move! Quickly, all of you! Go, go, go!” Thorin yells as he shoves me into the crack before he ushers his kin into the cave one by one. As the Wargs approach, the dwarves and Bilbo slide into the large crack in the rock, sliding into a cave. All the sudden I hear Thorin yell, “Kili! Run!” and I find my heart clench in my chest as I start to worry for his safety.

Suddenly Thorin and Kili jump into the crack last. Just as the lead Orc and his Wargs reach the crack, a horn sounds making me cock an eyebrow in confusion. I look around at the rest of my companions as they listen to the conflict from inside the crack. One of the orcs, shot by an arrow, falls into the cave. Thorin plucks out the arrow and examines its make.

“Elves.” Thorin says anger in his voice. There is a pathway at the end of the cave, leading away.

“I cannot see where the pathway leads. Do we follow it or not?” Dwalin asks and Bofur quickly replies, “Follow it, of course!” I stare at the orc in front of us and I find my stomach starting to churn. It was hideous to look at. A million questions start to fill my head but before I have a chance to ask them, I hear Gandalf say, “I think that would be wise.”

Will Continue...

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Ridikulus Pt 24

@himoverflowers, @theincaprincess, @aspiringtranslator, @sweeticedtea, @ggbbhehe4455, @thegreyberet, @patanghill17, @jesgisborne, @curvestrology, @alishlieb, @jogregor, @armitageadoration, @fizzyxcustard, @here2have-fun, @lilith15000, @marvels-ghost, @catthefearless, @imjusthereforthereads, @c-s-stars, @otakumultimuse-hiddlewhore

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...

In the darkened field you both exited your doorway and eyed the campfire nearby as you let out another sigh then asked Thranduil, “Any idea where they’re from?”

Thranduil, “Rohan, it looks like.”

You nodded and asked, “Do they have horses?”

Haltingly he replied, “Yes,”

“I keep hearing hooves when I sleep.” His eyes looked you over as you led the path across the cold grass gaining the attention of the Men now standing only to bow their heads to the King finally visible when you neared the campfire before turning their eyes to you.

Their leader, the tallest with bright golden hair and matching beard locked his eyes on the King asking in the common tongue, “King Thranduil. We did not hear your company arrive.” His eyes scanned around for any other guards of Elves, not seeing any his eyes turned back to the Elf King. “Have you gotten separated from them?”

“No. My Queen and I were wondering what you are doing camping on her borders.”

Their eyes wandered to you again then back to Thranduil, “We were unaware of anyone claiming these lands.”

You stated plainly, “We just moved in not long ago.”

“It is usually customary when new kingdoms are claimed for it to be announced properly.”

Your arms crossed and you stated, “It normally is good manners to explain why you are on the edge of borders when questioned by Kings as well where I’m from. Something you neglected to do when King Thorin questioned your reason for camping here.” At once his brows tightened as he drew in a breath readying to speak only to fall silent as you stated, “But no, you’re right, let’s go tell King Thengel who has claimed these lands, shall we?”

After a glance up at Thranduil your hand rested in his when he offered it you, wordlessly you collected the memory on the main overlook in Rohan and sent the doorway there and passed through it. Then leaving the curious Men to cautiously follow you through it in search of this new King.

Turning around hearing the crackle of an open flame over the cheers and chatter of a crowd, you trotted down the steps towards the bonfire lit party in the fields and open streets of the small town around the large fortress. One by one the Men turned to look you both over along with the group meant to be near Erebor. Near halfway through the party a hand met your shoulder and you heard a deep voice saying, “Who let you out of the house bootless, Lass?”

Instantly your fist collided with his cheek sending him heavily onto his back as you mumbled, “Let me?!” Beside you Thranduil did nothing to hide his proud smirk as your hand lowered and unclenched before your turning your head to ask as your hair flashed into a pale sea foam green, “Did I just punch the King?”

Thranduil shook his head then nodded his head towards the tall blonde making his way to you with three pints in hand and a growing grin on his face while saying, “You punched my Cousin, Halmar. Quite impressively I might add.” His eyes turned to Thranduil as he accepted the pair of pints meant for you both then watched you eye yours curiously as your hair turned back again. You peered in it then looked up at him again when he stated to the group of Men that had passed through your doorway behind you, “I assume you have a full scouting report on those lands I ordered you to ride out to.”

You interrupted stating, “That is why I am here.”

His brow rose, “I am listening?”

“The lands between the Celdwin and Carnen Rivers belong to my people, and as of an hour ago so do Fangorn and Isenguard.”

A ripple of chuckles sounded and Thengel stated, “Forgive me, but I have yet to hear of any Elves claiming those lands, or to be able to dwell there easily for ages, if at all.”

Your head tilted and you replied with a smirk, “You obviously haven’t been listening close enough. We arrived in Middle Earth months back and have taken it and Dale as payment in ridding Erebor of Smaug for King Thorin.” His lips parted, “Now, it is late, I haven’t slept properly in months and we’ve obviously interrupted your party so I’ll make this quick, those lands are off limits, I find your Men on my borders and they will find themselves in very uncomfortable situations.”

His chin tilted and he locked eyes with Thranduil inquiring in Rohirric, “I am aware what this woman is doing here, yet I am uncertain of your reasoning for being here King Thranduil.”

Thranduil stated plainly, “Miss Black is my Queen.” Instantly the Men straightened and turned their eyes back to the curious woman as he continued, “And also one of the hundreds of Isitari Eru has returned to our world. They have a school for their young on those grounds, one that her people, along with mine and all of the Dwarves will defend if necessary to any foolish enough to threaten them.”

Thengel nodded his head then raised his glass switching back to the common tongue, “We should toast to the returning Isitari then.”

His eyes shifted to you as you shook your head and offered him your pint, “As much as I would love to, I can’t drink this.”

His brow rose as he reached out accepting the pint then smirked at Thranduil, “Congratulations.”

You rolled your eyes, “I’m a teacher, I have class in the morning.”

His brow ticked up repeating, “A school teacher” his smirk grew through his sip of the ale making you exhale slowly.

“A school teacher that could drop a building on you and place your entire village in a small glass orb. One that requires her sleep. Especially since I have to learn about forty different types of dances in two weeks.”

Thengel glanced at Thranduil, “Dances?”

Thranduil drew in a breath, “The first of April is Miss Black’s birthday celebration in my Kingdom.”

Thengel smirked wider, “Well we must attend, to pay respects to your new Queen.”

Thranduil nodded his head, “We will send a proper invitation by weeks end and a doorway for your kin to pass through, enjoy your night my Queen needs her rest.”

The Men bowed their heads and Thengel accepted the pint from Thranduil before he turned to join you on the walk to your doorway again. The Men sent scouting were left in Rohan planning on the party ahead and celebrating that night while their campsite was zapped back to them as you passed through the doorway into Greenwood. “You don’t have to get back?”

Thranduil set his hand on your upper back saying, “I’m walking you to your room.”

“I will walk you to your gate at the least. My Naneth has missed all of Legolas’ life and understands with my position and our bond I owe you a great deal of my time.”

“She’s your Mother.”

Thranduil chuckled lowly, “I will go to her when I return, we will speak when Legolas goes to sleep.”

“You aren’t going to sleep?”

“I am not tired. Besides, it gives me plenty of time to go over the lists of details yet for your celebration.”

“I did not ask for a celebration two weeks out, just remember that. You aren’t obligated to have one for me. Though I do suppose with the hoards of returned Elves you now have ample numbers to solve your problems.”

Lowly he chuckled, “I suppose I do. All the more to lighten my load and focus a great deal more of my attention on you.”

With a sigh breaking your stare at his adoring stare at you, you started the walk through the arch to Pumpernickel to your home again and led him through up to your bedroom door saying, “I told you it would end badly.”

Thranduil chuckled, “And I told you it would go marvelously. You were perfectly charming.”

You peered up at him raising a brow making him chuckle lowly, “I punched the King’s Cousin.”

“You are not the first to punch him. Also, the punch was marvelous. Gained you quite a great deal of respect, as did your bluntness.”

“And yet he still had to ask you why I was with you.”

Thranduil smirked in another glance at you as his hand gently eased across the middle of your back while you led him on another turn in a hall Dobby was dusting a vase in making him step closer to you. Lowly he hummed playfully, “If you had my point of view you would have seen the group of Lords searching your hands for wedding bands.”

“Of course…”

Outside your door he leaned in cupping your cheek, “Please sleep. Anyone else wakes you I will be waging war on them.” Making you roll your eyes before his gentle kiss made you shut them, “Please sleep.” You nodded and he stood turning to head back to the doorway towards Greenwood after claiming another kiss and stroke of your cheek.

A deep breath flowed into your lungs and promptly left in a big yawn as you passed through the door closing it behind you and walked back to the bed. Now on his back Glorfindel watched as you turned into a cloud of mist then grew solid again sitting in your former spot, brushing the covers back to settle in again. With a smile he inched closer to you as you did softly, asking you mentally after his mind tapped yours, “Anything serious?”

A tug on his shirt brought him closer to you widening his smile as you snuggled against his side allowing him to hold you tightly, “King Thengel sent Men to inspect our lands. Thranduil invited him to the party,” you paused for a moment then added, “After I punched his Cousin.”

Glorfindel chuckled to himself and snuggled as close to you as he could, loving having your arm around him and leg woven with his, “I am certain he deserved it.”

“He tried to suggest I needed permission to leave home without boots.” Making him chuckle again as you adjusted your head on his shoulder and drifted off again.

A stern mooing from the floating alarm clock nudging your shoulder with its head silenced in your hand moving to stroke along its jaw. The figure and action bringing a smirk to Glorfindel’s face. Tilting his head down he smiled at you in your shifting onto your back to rub your face, the grumbling of the boys beside you however drew his eye only to have them turn back to you in your lean closer to him bringing back his smile. Gently his lips claimed yours in a tender kiss gradually working into something more at your hand gliding over his cheek and into his hair.

The next grumble on your right broke your lips apart as he purred, “I’ll take them for breakfast, get ready Dearest.” Stealing another quick peck before easing up and out of bed only to wrap the boys in his arms. Announcing the meal signaling the pair to lean into his sides as he lifted them and carried them to the door and down to the kitchen.

On your feet you sighed brushing your hair back from your face in your path to the closet where you grabbed your pale green sleeveless dress covering your full chest to just under the base of your neck with a row of black buttons down your back contrasting the black band around your waist. The dress flowed around your knees covering most of the sheer section on your black tights you added before adding your heeled booties in a deep black with silver accenting rings to loop the black securing ribbons through. After a simple set of liner around your eyes and a pink shade on your lips you pulled your hair back into a tall ponytail and made your way to the door, collecting your grey cardigan and your wand sheath you clipped the hidden pocket on your dress.

Through the halls you walked and trotted down the stairs joining the mingled mass of people, accepting the awed stares from Glorfindel, who had just finished his unwarranted explanation to your Father on why he had spent the night here. The grin on your Father’s face grew catching the Lord’s expression and swatted Regulus’ arm keeping him from sharing the comment he knew he was about to blurt out.

Slipping past Draco on his reach for more juice you sat down in the empty seat beside him then glanced at Hermione as she asked you, “Jaqi, Fili mentioned something about Men on our borders?”

You glanced up nodding, “Yes, um,” You felt all the eyes turn to you as you said, “Went out to check on it with Thranduil.”

Remus, “Everything go well?”

You nodded your head and giggled through a tilt of your head to the side raising your fork after a short stack of pancakes landed on your plate beside your eggs and sausage, “The riders were sent to scout the lands. We led them back to Rohan through the door, I talked to the King, after I’d punched his Cousin.” A snort came from Regulus in his attempt not to spit his drink through his nose as Sirius chuckled, “King Thengel seemed amused by it, Thranduil said he was impressed by it, and he invited himself to the party at Greenwood.”

Remus, “Invited himself?”

Regulus, “How’d Dew Drop take that?” Chuckling to himself.

You nodded covering your mouth as you spoke with a cheek full of pancakes, “Apparently he’s been crashing Dew Drop’s parties for a decade now.”

Sirius laughed, “No doubt for the wine, Elrond has quite a selection, half a glass and I was out the first time.” Making you giggle.

Glorfindel gave you a sparkling adoring gaze from across the table making you blush forcing your hair to sea foam green and glance down at your plate mid chew only making his smile grow. Remus smirked at the interaction then asked, “So how is this new King.”

Regulus, “He attractive?” The words rippled your hair to a golden shade mimicking the King’s and then back to your usual silvery blue.

You rolled your eyes looking up at your Uncle catching Glorfindel reaching for his glass to cover his dimming smile, “He’s tall, blonde, I think he’s married though, Thranduil mentioned something about a Son.”

Regulus nodded, “Did he flirt?”

You shrugged, “He smirked a lot. According to Thranduil he and his group were looking for wedding bands on my hands.”

Sirius smirked raising his glass for a sip, “Did they now?”

You rolled your eyes pointing your fork at him, “No. It’s bad enough I have him calling me his Queen. Then I have Blondie Sir Smirks A Lot somehow finding my being a teacher amusing.”

Glorfindel smirked stating, “That is probably be because in Rohirric children are taught by their Parents or Guardians aside from riding and fighting skills, which have certain tutors or instructors. His amusement most likely came from his trying to guess your age. They find it an amusing game with Elves. Apparently according to them I appear 5000.”

You raised a brow as a smirk eased onto your face as Draco asked, “How old are you?”

He smirked at your Cousin stating, “Few decades short of fifteen.”

It was your turn to almost choke on your pancakes as Neville asked, “Thousand?!”

He nodded, “That is combining my first life with the years I have had since being sent back.”

You asked, “How long have you been back?”

“4673, in two months.”

Softly you whispered to yourself, “Thousand…”

Regulus chuckled then asked, “So, is Dew Drop older, or younger than you?”

Glorfindel chuckled saying, “As far as I am aware there is a few years between us, I believe I am older.”

Drawing in a breath your fingertips curled and rested over your lips as Neville asked, “How old is Elrond?” The questions blurred as he shared the ages of the Elves he knew, or rough estimates at least between glances at you while you were floored at the sheer gap in age between you two until Hermione stated, “Fili’s barely eighty and in Dwarf life spans he’s just barely out of his teens so it really is just relative. Even Thorin stated Elves aren’t considered adults until they’re roughly four hundred. So, Glorfindel would be, in their mid adulthood? Roughly?”

Glorfindel chuckled and nodded, “Roughly, yes.” His eyes turned to you asking, “How old are you turning?”

You couldn’t help but smile through your nerves, “22.”

Hermione jumped in not giving him a moment to pause stating, “We are considered adults at 17, something the Dwarves were a bit rough on accepting at first, but then they remembered we didn’t have the pointed ears before arriving here and aged like mortals.”

Glorfindel glanced at Sirius as he chuckled after being asked, “If you don’t mind my asking, how old are you?”

“I’ll be forty this year. Jaqi’s Mum and I got an early start, having her at 17.”

Fred chuckled, “Mum was, 25, I think when we came around.”

George chuckled, “Ya, but by then she’d had Charlie, and Bill.”

Glorfindel asked, “Is it common to have Children so young?”

Regulus chuckled patting Remus on the back, “No, we usually try to wait till our late twenties or thirties. Remus here had his first a couple years back.”

Remus chuckled saying, “Some of us are just better at planning.”

Glorfindel’s brow rose only to drop when his eyes locked with yours as you stated, “I was a surprise.” He blinked at you giggled, “That’s what he means.”

Sirius chuckled smiling at you, “A much needed one.” Making you smile wider as you went to fill your fork again.

Fred laughed turning his head asking Charlie, “Char, what’d Mum call you again?”

Charlie laughed with a blush, “An Adventure.”

You all giggled and laughed as Charlie stated while planting his hands on Bill’s shoulders, “Bill here was a challenge.” Making his Brother chuckle and run his hand over his face.

Fred and George, “An unexpected joy.”

Then they pointed at Percy stating, “A trial.”

Percy nodded his head at Ron, still half asleep cutting his pancakes, “Ron was the surprise.”

Charlie and Bill grinned at Ginny when she slumped into her chair still trying to untangle her braid from the night before, “And our precious little blessing!” The Brothers grouped around her drawing a weak smile from her widening as Charlie helped her unwind her hair as Bill filled her plate then turned to claim his new infant from Fleur in her slow yawning path to the table.

George glanced at Glorfindel, “Our first girl born into the line in centuries till little Vivi here.”

The Elf grinned at the infant as Fleur sat on Bill’s lap eating from the full plate he set up for her as he spoke to his little girl. A glance at the clock later you stood and Regulus winked at you claiming your plate, with a smile you walked over to the young twins that smiled up at you as you said, “I have to go to work now, so you two enjoy your day with Glori alright?”

They both nodded and Glorfindel smiled at you saying, “We’ll walk you to the portal.”

You grinned helping Elured off his chair and brushed your bangs out of your face and smiled at Elurin claiming your hand for the walk to the door where you both claimed one for your hips for the long walk to the front gate as the others all went off in their own directions. Gently Glorfindel’s hand eased across your back with a smile at you as you asked him, “My age doesn’t bother you?”

He shook his head, “You are fully grown, your Father approves of our courtship. Does it bother you?”

You glanced up at him and let out a sigh, “Fifteen thousand. I mean, I’ve barely had 22 and I died twice.” He leaned in and kissed your forehead.

“Never again. No one is going to dare harm you or the boys here.” They both smiled up at you both as he added softly in another lean in to kiss your cheek, “You look lovely today.”

“Thank you.”

** In Rohan **

“Blue hair. I am telling you her hair was blue!” The statement made the disguised newcomer Ted freeze in setting up a row of freshly washed mugs onto the counter and look at the King who took notice of his reaction. Halmar, rubbing his bruised cheek stated, “I wasn’t my intention to insult her.”

Thengel rubbed his shoulder, “We’ll explain things and I am certain she will forgive your verbal blunder.” In Ted’s coming closer he stated, “Did you enjoy the ride back from Gondor? I apologize for any agitation the extra week behind but at least they did let you look over their maps correct?”

Ted sighed, “Someone needs to hit Denethor. He kept hovering, I barely got a glimpse before he would snatch them all away.” His eyes shifted to Halmar, “It seems I missed something.”

Thengel smirked, “Yes. Apparently there’s a new school for Isitari just south of Erebor. Their Queen apparently has married King Thranduil.”

Ted’s eyes narrowed a moment asking, “And the blue hair?”

Thengel chuckled, “His Queen, has blue hair.”

“How blue?”

Thengel’s eyes narrowed a moment at his seeming lack of surprise, “Like a pale silver, why do you ask?”

All at once Ted’s hair shifted to silvery blue parting the Men’s lips asking, “This blue?”

Thengel stood asking, “How did-,”

Ted, “If it’s this blue that’s my cousin. How did she get here? Did she fly?”

Thengel, “There was a door, how-,”

Ted shook his head rippling it to blonde again saying, “We landed here, I was separated from the others. I need to find her she’s bound to have found my husband and son.”

Thengel smirked now knowing his family could be safe explaining his moments of somberness, “Well, our men went scouting those lands below Erebor and she in not so many words said those lands would be defended from intruders. Though we were invited to her celebration of birth in Greenwood.”

Ted, “Where is Greenwood.”

Thengel, “No doubt if it is your cousin then Thranduil would want a hand in choosing her gift from us himself. I am certain you can explain to him when he arrives again.”

Ted huffed and glanced at Halmar asking, “What happened to him?”

Halmar, “I asked the Queen who let her out of the house without boots.”

Ted chortled, “That’d do it. I got some cream that’ll help with that.” In a half turn she asked, “Did you say they’re married?”

Thengel said, “Well he claimed her as his Queen so at the least engaged. We saw no wedding bands.”

Ted, “She better not have gotten married without me..” The Men all watched the grumbling Ted turn to head for a hidden cream that would prove useless for his bruise as it’d lost effect in age.

*** Back in Pumpernickel **

From the washer to the dryer you moved your clothes. RoR has again been swapped for more study periods freeing you to a two hour break including lunch. Upstairs your father sat playing with Em as Fin slept off his latest bottle so quietly you ate waiting on the laundry. With a pile of clothes pulled from the dryer you carried the basket upstairs to your room humming to yourself. Onto the bed the clothes spilled over and empty hangers floated out from the closet. Shirts were divided out and hung up, socks tucked themselves together and through the open door your owl arrived with a message in response from the letter you had sent earlier asking Tauriel to join you for a dinner in hopes to allow Kili a supervised visit with her.

Two letters however fell from his beak furrowing your brows a moment in a curious smirk. Tauriel had accepted the offer gladly and the other one you opened to read Thranduil’s message.

‘Jaqi,

Our visit to Rohan had me wondering. If you, even in your book centered knowledge on horses, had gained a certain breed of horse you might find appealing? If not would a certain coloring might be appealing to you? I do look forward to hearing what your interests would be or if you would want to be surprised.

I anxiously await your answer and sight of you again, always yours,

Thranduil.’

“So sweet. Bit odd, but sweet. Why would he want to know what horse I like, he already has me riding Tuo.” To yourself you smirked saying, “Silver Dapple Pinto.” From one of your old sketches pinned up by your bookshelf you copied the image of the massive cart horse with grey and white fur scattered with star shaped spots and a matching white mane, tail and hoof feathers. Its peaceful trot captured on the sketch from a filming of a horse show you folded and added to an envelope you sealed and sent back with the eager bird making you smirk at its continued diligence.

** Northern Greenwood **

Party planning was going well, the new returned Elves has been more than elated to have been granted homes in the newly restored kingdom and tasks to aid in decorating both palaces for the occasion. The main issue being the usual list of demands Gondor would send and the King’s worries when they would arrive to see Prince Estel. Meaning the boy had to be kept out of sight and yet the Men of Rohan surely would wish to pay respects to your children, all of your children. The twins were well protected and the Feanoreans now were beginning to accept their part would come into the Twins’ raising from a distance when they were accepted at your standards led by the trust of the boys they had harmed. But Denethor was ruthless and he could only imagine what storm he would cast over your celebration upon seeing the young boy, who would no doubt be terrified.

Demands and frustrations over petty things had bubbled up and while the Elves returned that had taken up old posts as guards began their first patrol of the Southern Kingdom the King needed to unwind.

He had sent off his letter, received a stunning sketch in response surely rare to find he would have to leave for later. And out of his dress robe and crown he tied his hair back with a long strip of ribbon he wound it in to lay down his back and collected his bow and quiver from his closet. Out to his private training area he stated at his target and inhaled deeply raising his bow with an arrow drawn. The old familiar motion coming easy and yet with each arrow his tensions dropped just a little more as he imagined the red dot in the round target to be Denethor’s head instead of the straw filled boulder backed warg shaped target.

Practice exams for fifth and seventh years were just a week away and your nerves had only risen with the students’ remembering how it had felt to sit for those exams not so long ago. Yet since you had aided in study sessions scores had risen enough for officials to notice.

All the same while Em napped you wondered if the boys were awake, since your Ones were their now their adopted dad’s you would have to get to now them better. Popping off after your classes were through to Northern Greenwood’s garden housing their archways you turned in a half circle unable to hear any giggles or playful noises from the boys leading you to start wandering around.

Each hall and open room was glanced into until you flashed a grin at the Elleth exiting a guest suite with the swapped sheets the Gondorians would prefer for their stay. Pleasantly she greeted you and guided you farther down the hall grinning to herself at the soft thanks you have to her showing you where the King was.

Slow and deliberate the broad back and shoulders of the King rippled and tensed at the next notching of the arrow only to let it fly leaving you partly leaning against the doorway of the private archery grounds. A sudden twitch of the ear of the King had you smirk when he had caught the sound of the toe of your shoe tapping behind you in a try to keep your feet from falling asleep in the heeled booties.

In a moment his eyes landed on you and as your hair rippled into a mint shade the corner of his mouth ticked up at your approach. “I didn’t want to disrupt you.”

Thranduil drew another arrow, pleased you had been possibly stunned to awe of his form at least hoping it could add to the truth that he could amply defend you from any harm if needed. “Disrupt me anytime.”

With a smirk you hopped up onto a stump beside him usually for holding spare quivers and crossed your ankles, “You are armed. I did not want to startle you rather and end up impaled.”

“I would never fire at you. Within the Palace we do not turn ready to fire unless warned by another of danger. It is part of our training. We always assess first before firing.”

“Long day?” You asked at the tensing of his body in the pausing of the calming motion.

His eyes scoured over you memorizing each detail and he sighed out, “That obvious?”

“Only to those with eyes.” You said and smirked at his raised eyebrow making him chuckle to himself and shake his head to lift his bow again. “Wanna talk about it?”

In a deep sigh as he released the arrow he replied, “It is merely troubles with Gondor. The son of their Steward is eager to agitate us. I will calm. Eventually.” Only tensing his brow when he reached back to find his quiver empty making you glance around and wave a finger calling another full quiver from against the wall making him chuckle to himself again in reaching for an arrow in the bundle held between your knees now.

“Want me to send some exploding smoke bombs their way? Ooh, or I have this multiplying spell, we could drown them in these little humming fuzzy puffball creatures that shriek when you try to touch them.” Making him after his arrow let loose look at you with a brow raised, “What? I helped to open a joke shop. It won’t kill anyone, merely annoy them into better behavior. How do you think I got through school alive with other pure blood families bent against me? Passive aggressive subtle revenge through unclaimed pranks. The rivalry between Slytherin and Hufflepuff houses is unmatched.”

“Your houses quarrel?”

“In academics and Quidditch, plus both house dorms are in the dungeons in a maze of sorts, the best way to sneak attack the other house. All in good fun, nothing life threatening of course. Just enough to keep one another on our toes and practice various skills.”

Another arrow was claimed and he looked you over asking, “Have you ever shot an arrow?”

“Few times, Fili and Kili were trying to use lessons for me and Hermi to get the lovebirds closer supervised.”

Offering you the bow in a shift of his grip he claimed the quiver and watched you uncross your feet and hop down, “We shall see what you can do.”

“You’ll have to turn around though.”

“Why?”

Your right hand folded around the bow grip and you walked around him guiding his turn, “I shoot right handed.”

“Ah,” he said and took the chance to watch you adjust your hold on the grip he gave a few pointers for and guided you through your first try to simply ease back the bowstring. Tightly it tried to fight you only to stir his smirk out seeing you draw it back with apparent ease. A first arrow was tried and in the doorway he caught a fraction of a glimpse of other Elves stealing a peek at your arrow being lined up properly by the crouching King behind you to just barely miss the center of the target now lodged with all the arrows from the first emptied quiver.

“Very good,” he hummed, “A solid footing to start from in your training.”

“I’m to be trained now?” You teased back.

Near to your ear he hummed helping you line up the next arrow, “It would calm the both of us for you to be trained outside of magic to defend yourself. A hopefully never required skill to master.” His hand molded around your side and he added, “All for your protection, my Darling Starlight.”

Blushing slightly you let the arrow go and watched it lodge between two of his prior arrow stems and swing down to dangle between them. When you lowered the bow your head turned hearing Legolas’ chuckle in his trot out stating, “Ada, aren’t you meant to clear the target before aiding another on it? Especially one with a sharpshooter’s grip.”

“Sharpshooter?” You asked back.

Legolas, “Very few of our kin can master our bows with the hold you use. Quite rare, only the most skilled archers in our history have reached immortality in tales of old on their skills with a bow.”

“I doubt I’ll be famous for a bow.”

He smirked back at you tugging out the last of the arrows making the bewitched target morph back together tilting your head slightly for a moment. And he replied, “I doubt there is very little you would not be famous for. All the same, no doubt we would love to see what you can do with a sword as well.”

Thranduil, “Have the brothers trained you on swords as well?”

“Long sword mostly but with Thorin and Dwalin.”

His eyes looked you over, “Hmm.”

Legolas added, “Not dual blades? I sense you would be adept at mastering those over a long sword.”

“They didn’t think it best to start with two. But it was hard to learn using both my hands to grip the hilt. I’m used to using both separately in Quidditch.”

Legolas, “At least you have a good base to begin from. When you are ready we could begin your lessons.”

Lowly you mumbled, “I guess that’s why Glori offered to teach me then.”

Thranduil smirked, “Even better. We will alternate lessons, myself with archery and Glorfindel for the blade.”

Legolas, “We will have you in fighting shape in no time.”

Thranduil’s brows sank at that and you said, “I doubt anyone would want me fighting any time soon.”

Thranduil, “Exactly, merely for defense purposes only.”

Glorfindel entered the doorway asking, “What is required for defense purposes?” Smiling when he looked you over as the boys neared you.

“They want to train me in defense.”

Estel, “Are you shooting? Could we watch?”

With a grin you claimed another arrow as Thranduil said, “I will train her on archery and you will handle the blade training. Thorin has given her a base knowledge on the long sword.”

Lowly he replied slightly stunned, “Long sword? Of course, when you are prepared and well rested we might begin an assertion of your beginning level of skill to build upon.”

Emptying the quiver the boys and more Elves watched your endurance hold against the stubborn bow making the King smirk more at their awe and showing proof you might be ready to try swinging targets next time. All while Legolas began to plan out the bow he would craft for your gift to have one of your own.

“Why horses?” You asked at the boys being led off by Taule for their meal she had prepared as the guys guided you back to the archways so you could head home to take charge of Teddy, Fin and Em allowing your father to help with the final settling of Dale. The celebration of which you would spend with Molly who would be caring for Vici while the others were off relaxing.

Thranduil, “Hmm? Oh, yes my question earlier. Thengel no doubt would be aiming to gift you a horse from his herds. The coloring you had specified would be quite rare to find. They do have white and black painted ones occasionally. While you eat, if you would not mind sending the doorway I will manage their gift and decision.”

“A horse?”

He nodded, “Yes. It is your birthday. I will ensure you are gifted the best they have to offer.”

“A horse?”

You repeated and he narrows his eyes a moment in confusion, “Yes.”

“You don’t just give someone a horse! That’s like giving them a five hundred pound baby.”

Glorfindel, “A five hundred pound horse would be quite sickly-,”

“My meaning is, I’ve ridden one horse, once. He doesn’t know me. I could be incapable of keeping a daisy alive for all he knows and, a horse?!”

Thranduil, “I assure you it would be very well cared for.”

“I don’t even know what you feed a horse! Barely know how to dress one. How do you even bathe them? And their teeth, do you have to brush them? Do you have to cut their hair, or is it called fur, I don’t even know! And then they need shoes, how I would ever be able to do that-,”

Thranduil’s hands settled on your shoulders, “Jaqi, we would care for the horse.”

“But, Tuo would get upset, we’re buddies,”

The remark making the King smirk to himself as Legolas chuckled softly and Glorfindel grinned adoringly at you. “Rohan has the finest steeds, and this way should I require Tuo you would have your own steed. Leave the rest to me.”

“But, you already have so much to take care of, all the people you had, the new people, the new palace, Estel,” you pointed at Legolas making his smile deepen, “I don’t know how much of his daily life still depends upon you but you can’t just add a horse to that. Wouldn’t a sweater or socks be a more sensible gift?”

Glorfindel chuckled again saying, “Surely if you were requiring clothes that would be our place to gift them to you.”

Legolas, “Sensible, yes. But so much unlike gifting one of their finest horses. Appearances must be kept.”

Thranduil caught your confusion and answered it, “Rohan and Gondor are known rivals each will try to outdo the other in their gifts.”

“I’m almost afraid to ask what Gondor would give me.”

The trio answered, “Most likely a fur lined robe, their specialty.”

Blinking a few times you asked, “Like Thorin’s?”

Thranduil, “Theirs is usually finer fur. Dwarves tend to stick to wolf and bear fur, Ecthellion has a full stock of fine fox furs. They prefer silvers and black shades secured by jeweled broaches.”

In a huff you smoothed your fingers over your cheek brushing your bangs back, “I am a Professor. You do realize that? I don’t wear furs to work.”

Thranduil, “We will ensure there are plenty of occasions for you to enjoy them. Again, better furs than their boats,”

“Boats…” you shook your head, “Fine, but none of you are buying me animals or their skins for my birthday.”

Legolas, “Of course not. It is custom to make it.”

You shook your head and said, “Sensible gifts. I have to go.” Accepting the chaste pecks to your cheeks and smile from Legolas as you went through the archway after having shared with the trio on how to call your doorway and guide it to aid in his trip to Rohan to deal with your giant incoming baby. And smirking to himself Thranduil palmed the Phoenix candy you had given him to pass onto the Man you had punched, already picturing their shock at your forgiving gift.

Pt 25

#Thranduil x Reader OC #Glorfindel x Reader OC #HP Crossover

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multisfabulis · 5 years

Text

The Road to Forgiveness Be Damned

Ripples of the Past (Chapter 2/7)

Word Count: 3793

As per a poll I ran on Twitter to see if anyone wanted chapter 2 sooner or later, I’m posting this now rather than after finishing chapter 3!

Not gonna lie, this will probably be the most lighthearted chapter of this story and, to me, that’s saying something. This won’t have the dark stuff I mentioned last chapter nor is it going to be an emotional rollercoaster like the next couple chapters will be. Enjoy it while you can.

As always, I hope you enjoy reading this and I look forward to any and all criticism you have!

Read on AO3 | Read on DA

Dim morning light peeked through the vines as Ferreth waited up for Ven. Were it not for the noise outside, he’d have no idea how early it was. He needed to get better at waking up earlier. If they wanted to accomplish their task within the four day time limit, he couldn’t be sleeping in like this. It’d help if he knew how far they’d have to go to the swamp but nothing in life was that easy.

He found it weird how Filaurel didn’t tell them of anything to look out for. Nothing of its appearance, its behavior. If he didn’t know better, it was almost as if she was setting them up for failure. By not telling them jack, they’d waste away the four days wondering what they were hunting for till they eventually gave in. It’d be par for the course for that sadistic bitch.

The way she treated Ven yesterday infuriated him. Barely letting her get a word in, twisting her words around to seem as if she were at fault… She probably would’ve done way worse had he not stepped in. He already resented her for being the core of Ven’s issues but her actions yesterday cemented his hate for her. If only he could make Ven realize she wasn’t to be trusted at her word…

Ven came out at that moment, struggling to tie her hair up. She seemed to be the same as ever, though that didn’t mean much to him today. With her tendency to hide how she really felt at times, she may be feeling worse than she let on. She proved herself to be a better actress than he gave her credit for sometimes.

Despite his concern, he mustered up a smile and asked, “Hey, how’d you sleep last night?”

“The usual,” she replied, becoming increasingly frustrated over tying her hair up without the help of a mirror.

“Any nightmares?”

“No more than usual. Hey, can you help me with this? I can’t seem to get it right…” She held out a brush and hair tie to him.

Although she said that nonchalantly, he was worried. She may be used to the nightmares but he wasn’t sure he’d be able to. Seeing how she acted when they arrived, he hoped being here wouldn’t exacerbate those bad dreams at some point. The only thing he could do was lend an ear, though he wished it wasn’t so.

Brushing through her hair, he asked, “Ven, you’d tell me if the nightmares got worse, right?”

“Would that be okay with you?” she asked, the tone of uncertainty he’s heard times before present in her voice. “I don’t want to be more of a burden to you than I already am…”

“Yeah!” He gathered all of her hair and tied it up into a ponytail. “I know I can’t do more for you than just listen but… I’ll always be there for you, you know?”

She barely responded to his words. He couldn’t tell if she believed him or wanted to, in any case. His mind flashed back to the time they had to wait out rain in a cave nearby during one of their missions. He promised her she could rely on him in times like this and no way in hell would he back out on that now. Not when she might need him to help her through this.

Putting an arm around her shoulders, he bumped his forehead against hers and said, “Remember, you can lean on me whenever you want to. I can’t offer much but I’ll be there for you. I promised you that and I’m sticking by it.”

The smallest glimpses of a smile rose up on her face. Smiles were rare to see from her, making this moment mean more than it usually did. He loved her smiles just as much as he loved her and wanted to make her as happy as she deserved to be. No matter how long it may take him, he was determined to see her smile without anything holding her down.

Upon leaving, they made their way over to the outskirts. It was considerably busier today, with carts going in and out at the gate and several guards checking the insides of each one. If they were worried about someone bringing in contraband, that person would be pretty stupid to do it in plain sight.

He felt hands grab onto his arm, knowing them to be Ven’s. This was something she did whenever she felt there were too many people around and needed to ease her anxiety. She was like Eric in that they absolutely hated being in or around crowds because it’d overwhelm them to the point of panic attacks. Unlike him, she still hadn’t gotten a handle on it yet. Being in this place probably didn’t help.

He also felt as if there were eyes on them. Someone watching them from a place he couldn’t see, no matter how many times he looked. He had a sneaking suspicion that it was Filaurel making good on her threat through one of her lackeys. Nice to know the bitch didn’t trust them to carry out her “assignment” without any supervision.

Getting through the gates was surprisingly easy. He thought, for sure, they would be stopped and he’d have to waste time convincing the guards to let them go. Instead, they just saw them off without a word. Whatever the reason was, he wasn’t complaining and went on his way. Once they were far enough away from the village, she let go of his arm and walked alongside him.

Making their way westward, he hoped to find a high place to scout from. It wasn’t necessarily a requirement but it’d be nice to have one all the same. At least it’d prevent him from going into his Dradnach form and waiting a while to turn back once he was done. If he were an Air Dradnach, none of this would matter and he’d just be able to fly up. Just another thing to add to the ever-growing list of “why being an Earth Dradnach sucks”.

“Ferret, could you… not help me so much with this?” she asked out of the blue as they trekked up a steep hill.

Taken aback by her question, he stopped walking and replied, “W-what do you mean? I can’t just not help you.”

“I know, it’s just that…” She stopped at the peak. “I feel like if I depend on you for anything I could do on my own, it won’t feel as if I’ve truly earned my forgiveness. It’s hard for me to explain and I know it doesn’t make any sense but… I’m only asking that you not help me a lot with this task. Not until I feel as if I’ve put in the work. Can you do that for me, please?”

How could he just not help her with this? It wasn’t that he doubted she could carry this out on her own or saw her as a damsel in need. He knew better than anyone how strong she was and how extraordinary her abilities were. It seemed like she was only asking this because she believed it’d get her into Filaurel’s good graces. Knowing her, it still wouldn’t be enough.

Even so, he begrudgingly gave in and said, “All right but I’m not promising anything.”

“It wouldn’t be right of me to ask you to promise something like that.”

They continued on till they reached a field. A couple dead trees were over to their left while their right had nothing but tall grass blowing in the breeze. Despite the sun bearing down on them, it was a nice day today. The perfect day to do some reconnaissance, he thought.

Unfortunately, this would be where they’d stop. He didn’t know how much further the swamp was and they needed a good view of it to proceed onwards. No way could they risk stumbling in there blind only to get ambushed. Too bad it meant turning into his Dradnach form but it couldn’t be helped.

“Hey, Ven,” he called out to her, “I think I know how we can do recon.”

Tilting her head in confusion, she asked, “We’re not moving ahead?”

“Nah. We don’t know how close or far we are from the swamp and I’d rather play it safe than risk falling into a trap.”

“Okay, so what’s your plan?” She crossed her arms in front of her chest.

“Well, since I’m about 20 and a half feet tall as a Dradnach, I could just turn, have you on my head as lookout, and turn back in the span of… 10, 15 minutes.”

“We’re really desperate, aren’t we?”

“It’s better than nothing. Besides, I know you’ve gotta be dying to see what I really look like. It is a pretty rare occasion, you know.”

A snort and roll of her eyes gave way to a small smile. He liked making her smile, whether it be through cracking jokes or playful teasing. Her laughs were even rarer than her smiles and he managed to do that twice this trip. Even if their mission came out as a bust, today wouldn’t all be in vain.

“All right, I’m gonna go change,” he said, heading into the field on his right side, “Don’t freak out if you see a big, fat, brown lizard in a few minutes!”

The grass was about chest-high as he pushed past the golden blades. He needed to be a good distance away for this. His transformations always took quite a bit of space and there was no telling how much room he had in this field. He wandered down a straight line for some time before stopping.

This spot was as good as any. He did some warm-up exercises, such as stretching his arms and legs out and cracking his bones, to prepare himself. The last time he did this was in Thornewind several months ago, back before he met Eric. At least the reason for it was different this time around. He took a deep breath, clearing his mind of any and all distractions, and underwent the transformation process.

He grew to thrice his size, flattening the grass around him. His skin hardened, causing scales that felt rough and rigid to grow over. Steely claws made to dig through the toughest of rock replaced his thin fingers. A stubby tail sprouted out from his backside, resembling that of a docked animal. Despite his grand stature, he was smaller than others of his kin, due to not being a pure-blooded Earth Dradnach. His brother loved to lord that over him when he could.

Bringing his head down for Ven, he asked, “So what do you think? Pretty cool, right?”

“If I can be honest, you seem more like a dog than a dragon.” She placed a hand on his snout. “A very scaly dog.”

“How do I look in any way like a dog?”

“Well, aside from the both of you being cute, kind, funny, lovable, and protective, you’re very huggable in this form, like a dog. If you just had fur, you’d be even cuter!”

She let out a laugh as he nuzzled her. Only she could get away with comparing him to a dog and making it sound good. He wished this kind of thing happened more often, though without the “being compared to a dog” part.

“I’m still cool, though, right?”

“Very.”

She climbed up and sat atop his head, waiting. He slowly stood up on his hind legs, carefully raising his head so as to not let her fall. Without any horns or spikes for her to grab on to in case she did, this was especially important. Once he was in an upright position, he could breathe out a sigh of relief. She was still perched on his head, meaning the hardest part of the job was done.

With that out of the way, they saw what laid beyond the field. A dark forest still miles away from their current location sat before a marshy region. Tall willow trees were scattered across black water, decorated with green lilypads and algae. He hoped to see their quarry roaming about but luck wasn’t on his side. Well, they had the lay of the land now, which was all that mattered.

Despite knowing all this, he let her relay the information back to him. He stayed silent, remembering what she asked of him earlier. Things of this nature, such as giving her a boost without taking away her instrumentality, had to be fine by her. Although he couldn’t show it, he was beaming with pride.

Half a day’s travel was his best estimate for the swamp. If he were right, it’d mean they could be out by noon, finish the mission, and be back before dusk. They wouldn’t even need the fourth day if everything went to plan. The deed would be done, they’d report it to Filaurel, and head home the next day.

Soon as he put her down, he turned back to being human. His body shrunk and became more compact, a far cry from his Dradnach form. The scales that grew over him receded, his skin once more smooth to the touch. His claws straightened, thinning out to human fingers again. The stubby tail he had only in this form vanished, as if it never existed in the first place. Now he was back to regular, human-like Ferreth, with the exception of one last thing---

Excruciating pain erupted from his arms, as if someone was jamming several knives into them all at once. He muttered an expletive through gritted teeth under his breath as the pain ebbed. That was the one thing he hated about shifting in-between the two forms. Every time he turned from one to the other, he had to endure the pain that occurred in his arms. No matter how much time had passed from his accident, it still hurt like it happened yesterday.

A hand on his shoulder, Ven was crouched down next to him and asking, “Are you okay? Do you need to rest?”

“I’m all right, I just need a minute and we’ll go, okay?” he replied, giving her an assuring smile.

He looked down to see if blood was beginning to seep into his wrappings. While his arms dully ached, the cloth was still a pristine white. Thank god for that, because he’d have a hard time trying to explain why he was suddenly bleeding. She didn’t need to know the reason why he kept his arms bandaged up. It was an unrelated matter, nothing she needed to be worried about.

Once his small break was done, they began walking back. Cool wind blew in from behind them, ruffling their hair and clothes. It was somewhat reminiscent of Thesriden, a place he didn’t think too fondly of. The times of him being tormented by his brother far outweighed any of the good memories he had of that place. He doubted he’d ever go back there, now that he had an actual home.

“Has anyone else seen you as a Dradnach yet back home?” she asked.

“Nope. I prefer staying in this form--” he gestured to himself-- “since it’s just easier doing stuff than it’d be if I stayed as a dragon.”

“I must be pretty special, then,” she said almost jokingly.

“I’d say being the girl I’m in love with counts as being pretty special.”

A roll of her eyes and a warm smile were all she gave in response. This wasn’t the first time he professed his love to her and it certainly wouldn’t be the last. He didn’t need her to reciprocate his feelings because he just liked being her friend. Not like she’d want to be with someone like him, anyway…

“Oh, I just realized, would your powers be able to work in swamps?” she asked.

“Maybe?” While he did work best in the kind of environment they were in now, swamps were like gray areas. “I mean, if there’s earth around, I can work with it. With swamps, though, everything’s practically mud so it may be tricky…”

“You never tried?”

“My mother died before she could teach me. Trust me, if she were still alive, she’d conquer that swamp for sure.”

Memories of his mother flashed through his mind. He remembered how strong and confident she was, the way she used the water and earth around her so effortlessly as if they were tools for her to create with. She was a woman he was proud of being a son to and he loved her so, so much. Then she died, leaving him alone with his father and brother to deal with. Years have passed since her death yet the scar it left on him still festered to this day.

“I wonder if she would’ve been like her…” He heard her mutter under her breath. It was easy to forget she didn’t have such a thing growing up. She had it so much worse than him and he needed to keep remembering that.

The sun was beginning to set when they made it back. People were either closing up shop or returning home, a scene carried over from yesterday. Quick glances at Ven revealed a face full of melancholic nostalgia. He’ll never understand why she’d want to remember every bad thing that happened in the past when he’d rather just forget it all. Maybe it was just a difference of opinion on how they wanted to cope with the effects of what their crappy childhoods burdened them with.

Having to stay in her childhood home for the duration of their time here made him apprehensive. Despite her assurances of its security, he felt inclined to say otherwise. How the hell was this rickety old house in any way safe, he wondered. Still, he kept his mouth shut so as to not upset her. This was once her home, even if he didn’t have a good thing to say about it.

“Oh yeah,” he said suddenly, remembering what he discovered last night, “did you know anyone named Thessalia?"

Her eyes widened in shock and she replied with, “…That was my mother’s name.”

“I’m only asking because, after you went to bed last night, I got bored and decided to explore a bit. I found this old journal in a drawer and when I opened it, the first page had the name Thessalia on it.”

“Could I see it, please?”

He went over to a dusty cabinet and pulled out the drawer. An old leather book full of yellowed pages sat inside. If this really was her mother’s journal, then it’s been laying in that drawer for about twenty years. The fact she hadn’t known of its existence meant this would be the first time she’d see this.

As he handed the book over to her, she said, “I’ve wanted to know about my mother and who she was for so long and the answers were here the whole time.”

Several different emotions flickered across her face as she held the book in her hands. She took off a glove to feel the crinkled leather from underneath her bare fingers. Then she opened the cover to touch the first page, only to quickly flip through the rest of the musty pages. This was easily the most excited he’s ever seen her and, considering how she was normally, it’s become a big highlight of the trip so far.

Still holding the journal, she hugged him and said, “Thank you, thank you, thank you. You have no idea how much this means to me.”

The sudden hug rendered him speechless. Not noticing his lack of a response, she bid him a good night and walked to her room with a bounce in her step. He patted his cheeks to get rid of the blush, flabbergasted at what just happened.

Despite how dazed he was, seeing just how happy she was right now put him in such high spirits. That journal was a goldmine of answers for her, who had been wondering just hours ago what her mother was like back then. No doubt she’d be reading through that book all night tonight.

Even if it ran the risk of her being tired for tomorrow, she deserved this. Hopefully, they didn’t die tomorrow and she could be forgiven for her crime. So long as they kept their wits about them and protected each other, it’ll be smooth sailing. Then, when the four day time limit was up, they could go back home.

#airi's writing #ship tag; Lean on Me

8 notes · View notes

djinmer4 · 5 years

Text

Headline News (Noir AU)

NEW YORK MOURNS MYSTERIOUS DOUBLE DEATHS OF ELDEST LAWRENCE SIBLINGS

“Looking for more inspiration?” Kitty frowned and looked up from hunting the second half of the article among the scattered sheets of the newspaper. “What?”

Kurt passed her a plate of eggs and toast, then turned away to take a sip of his own coffee. For once, they were switching roles, with Kitty on her way out to meet with her editor while Kurt had the day off. He’d offered to go with her but she’d declined. For some reason, he always made her editor Green very nervous. So instead, he’d run a few errands that they’ve been letting slide.

“It’s a pretty interesting case. But I’ll wait to see if anyone else in the family dies. ‘Once is coincidence, twice is happenstance, but three times is enemy action.’” She all but inhaled her breakfast, then quickly applied her make-up and was out the door. “I won’t be back until the evening,” she said, dropping a quick kiss on his thinning hair.

“I won’t do anything you wouldn’t do,” Kurt promised. When the door had slammed shut, he finished his sentence. “Or at least, I won’t do anything you wouldn’t write.”

_______

Charles Lawrence, age 34, died two weeks ago in what appears to be an industrial accident. While inspecting a local meat processing plant, Carl was hit by a stray meat hook and torn apart by an automated dismembering machine. Authorities have shut down the plant and have started a more thorough investigation into the practices of owner Johann Schmidt. The death has prompted a recent jump in purchases of Upton Sinclair’s book ‘The Jungle’ with retired . . .

________

Patricia Lawrence-Tomson, age 32, found deceased last week from strangulation. Police are investigating her husband Dylan Tomson for any possible motives . . .

_______

John Lawrence was going to be a difficult target. Two previous deaths, a career in the military during the Great War and a lifetime of paranoia meant he wasn’t going to be taken off guard the way his two older siblings were. Still, Kurt wasn’t too worried. He’d been planning this hit since he first got the assignment. Kurt went up to the gated estate and rang the doorbell. “Who the hell are you? “

“Language, Mr. Lawrence. I’m Dr. Kurt Wagner, from St. Patrick’s in the city. Father Christopher is trying to make arrangements for your siblings’ funerals now that the bodies have been released from the morgue. As next-of-kin for both of them, we’d like to know any wishes or requests that the deceased made.” He waited a minute. “May I come in to discuss these arrangements with you?”

Rather than the gate opening, a man came out, carrying a shotgun. “I’ve heard of you. The Father called last night to tell me that you’d be coming. Any reason he couldn’t make it himself?”

“Father Christopher is in his seventies and more than a little apprehensive about automobiles. Since I had the day off and a car, I offered to take his place.” He waved some papers at the younger man. “The reading of the wills for both your siblings has been delayed, but the solicitor was kind enough to make carbon copies of any relevant requests. Charles Lawrence wrote he wanted to be buried in the Long Island National Cemetery rather than the nearer Cypress Hills and Patricia has several requests about the flowers and decorations for the mass and wake. Are you aware of any other preferences or requests that the two did not write down?”

John Lawrence ignored his words. “I recognize that accent. Did Father Christopher send a Kraut spy to speak to me about my siblings?”

“Please, sir,” Kurt kept his hands in the air, careful not to advance towards the paranoid ex-soldier. “I’ve lived in this country for over five years now, I’m not a spy.”

Brown eyes narrowed over the shotgun. “I don’t fucking care. I’m not letting some Jerry onto my property. You can either get the hell away from me or I’ll blow your fucking head off.”

“I’ll leave then, but at least let me give these to you. These are the arrangements the Church has made for your siblings and it also has the number you can reach Father Christopher at if any changes need to be made.” Kurt took a step closer and Lawrence lifted the gun and pulled the trigger. The German ducked . . . but it turned out that was unnecessary.

Instead of a bullet whizzing by where his head was a few seconds ago, the shotgun misfired. Not only misfired but did so spectacularly, with a blowback that shattered Lawrence’s chest. Kurt stared as the light faded from John’s eyes and his body went limp in death. Then he turned and raced towards the nearest neighbor, shouting for them to call an ambulance.

_______

“Sorry, it took so long to get ya outta there. They didn’t keep ya from anything, did they?” Kurt rubbed his wrists. The handcuffs hadn’t been too tight but it had still been an uncomfortable couple of hours waiting for the police to check out his credentials and clear him from their list of suspects. The German suspected they would have kept him overnight if not for Logan coming by to take over the case. “It’s fine. That was my last errand for the day.” The Canadian waggled an eyebrow at him. “And Kitty’s got a meeting with her editor. They’ll probably be out all night.”

“In that case, why don’t I buy you a drink to make up for this?”

“Hypocrite. Shouldn’t an agent of the Volstead Act refrain from being caught in a speakeasy?”

“Hey, I work the supply side of the chain, I don’t care about the people distributing it. Besides, tonight’s case got nothing to do with alcohol. I just want to bounce some ideas off ya.”

“Lead the way then.” They wandered over to the Black Cat Nightclub and ordered a meal from Felicia Hardy. The food wasn’t the best but it was cheap, the servings were generous and no one had gotten sick from it yet. Logan took a generous sip of something that perhaps could be called whiskey if you were being kind and started talking. “So, they’re upgrading the case to a serial killer.”

“I see. ‘Once is coincidence, twice is happenstance, three times is enemy action.’” The shorter man squinted at him. “I got that quote from Kitty.”

Logan snorted. “Oh yeah, she’d definitely know all about that. Eh, I guess Charlie could have been a freak accident but Patsy was definitely murdered.”

The German nodded then took a bite, carefully turning away so that the other couldn’t see his face. Logan had known him before the gas had ruined his good features and even several years later couldn’t look at him without the mask. “And there’s no way that misfire could have been natural. I was a sharpshooter, I know misfires don’t explode like that. And I find it hard to believe a man as paranoid as John Lawrence could have had a weapon in anything in other than top condition.”

“Right. Killer didn’t want to take chances. The guns were fine, but all the ammunition’s been tampered with. We’re gonna go back through his supply chain and see if we get some leads that way.”

“So are you still looking for clues?”

“Yes and no. Our biggest suspect right now is the younger brother, Mace Lawrence. Guy’s scum, hires out as low-level muscle to all the different gangs in the area. Word on the street says he was angling for a bigger share of the Lawrence inheritance than the parents left him in the will. Add that John had a successful import/export business and the proceeds from selling it will go to the survivors . . . “

Kurt took another sip of the not-whiskey. “But you have a different idea.”

“I’m thinkin’ it might be the work of the Demon.”

“The Demon? Not the younger siblings?”

“Two reasons. First, there’s a big gap between the elders and the younger ones. John was thirty, then Mace at 22, then Mary at 18. Mary’s old enough to want the money but she’s too smart to be doing this. Second, method. I can definitely see Mace wanting to kill his siblings, but we’ve got three different styles used. One person gets violently ripped apart, another is found strangled to death and the third falls prey to sabotage. If all three of them had been poisoned or savaged, I’d be more likely to believe it was the brother. A killer may vary their methods when first attempting to murder someone but once they’ve come across a method that works, they usually don’t change their habits. The Demon is the only serial killer we’ve seen who regularly varies her methods when killing people.”

The shadows hid the grimace that formed on the German’s face. “And I don’t need to ask why you think serial killer rather than strange coincidences. People die every day, but the chances of three siblings in one month are minuscule. There’s only one problem. What’s the Demon’s motive?”

“Yeah, that’s why Chief Magnus dismissed my theory. But the Demon’s an insane serial killer, it’s not like she needs a motive.” The Canadian took another bite of salmon and potato mash. “That reminds me, I’ve got a favor to ask ya.”

“Shoot.”

“The Chief won’t let me pull anyone off the other cases to bodyguard Mace Lawrence. But if it is the Demon, he’s the next target. I was wondering if-”

“Logan, I work now. I’m not the dockworker who can just not show up for a few days to help you run a stakeout. Besides, even if he won’t assign someone to protect him, wouldn’t the Chief lend you some people to tail Mace in case he decides to go after his younger siblings as well?”

The older man’s voice dropped. “He already did. But Dukes ain’t much good as a bodyguard, too slow. Pete’s better but he’s a rookie, he doesn’t know how to watch a target while watching the surroundings too.” His voice strengthened after that. “Anyway, ya won’t be the only one. I’m gonna pull in a few favors . . . from Slim and some other people I know. I just need to know what day you’ll be taking so I can work out a schedule for everyone.”

“Do you want me to ask Kitty-”

“No!” He took a deep breath and deliberately lowered his voice again. “Thanks, but no thanks. Besides, Kitty doesn’t have any self-defense or weapons training. She won’t be much use as a bodyguard.” Then below his breath he added. “Or at least, that’s what she claims.”

Kurt resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Logan was clearly still hung up on his theory that Kitty was the Demon. “Fine, I’ll check when my next day off is. By the way, you’re paying for the meal tonight.”

“Yeah, yeah, I got it.”

After he’d seen Logan off but before he went home, Kurt went to check on the mailbox he kept at the Black Cat. As a hub of the underground, Felicia Hardy provided a means for customers to contact various services provided by criminals such as himself, a network she had taken over after the death of her unlamented lover, the Crime-Master. Having just completed a job, Kurt was hoping the final installment of his payment would be in, although he rather doubted it. This last client had been a pain in the arsch from the very beginning. If he didn’t get his money within the week, he was going to take a pound of flesh instead.

There was some cash in the box, and another letter as well. When he opened it, he noticed it was the same typewriter that had been for the earlier notes. With some unexpected contents as well. “This will make things much easier,” he muttered to himself.

_______

Mace Lawrence proved to even less impressive than his reputation made him out to be. The man was a lush, a lech and a braggart. He regaled an indifferent audience with imaginary exploits in an attempt to lure some of the working girls into his bed but needless to say, they were all too jaded to fall for his antics. Kurt was thankful Kitty was buried in her next chapter today, she had barely heard him on his way out. With her so focused on her typewriter, there wasn’t much chance of spending time together, so he wasn’t missing out by helping Logan watch this fool.

Rejected and out of money, Mace made his way out of the speakeasy. The nippy fall weather made it easy for Kurt to tail him, just another trench-coated figure in the crowd. By the time Mace was ready to cross the 8th to get to Penn Station, the German was right behind him. From there it only took a light shove to send the inebriate stumbling into the street . . . and in front of a bus.

As soon as the body stopped rolling, Kurt was at its side, shouting (as much as he could with the damage to his throat) that he was a doctor and turning it to lie on its back. He had one of the other bystanders (white hair, was this Logan’s Peter Magnus?) steady the torso while he pulled the arms up and down to stimulate breathing. Despite the best efforts of himself and the cop (and Dukes when he came puffing up), Mace Lawrence was pronounced dead on arrival at St. Lukes.

“Sorry, Logan. I tried to keep up with him but . . . “

“It’s alright, Kurt. I was really expecting something more subtle from the Demon this time. Although I guess a random figure pushing another in the crowd is as subtle as ya get. Without other clues, there’s no way to track everyone who was there at the time. Only good news is that Chief Magnus is taking my theory more seriously now. The last three Lawrence siblings are gonna be moving outta New York, where the Demon probably can’t follow ‘em.”

_______

“How did you know you know Mace had hired me to kill your siblings?” Mary Lawrence stopped and turned to the man standing in the shadows of the pillar. Average height, trench coat and a fedora on his head, he could have been anybody. But the dull blue mask and harsh accent . . . it definitely matched all the descriptions the police had given her about the Demon.

“Why ask about Mace and not my other siblings?”

“I asked first.” He moved his hand and she could see a pocket knife gleam in the dim light. Deciding this was no time to be brave, she caved and answered first. “Mace was an idiot. There were a bunch of drafts contacting you that he hadn’t disposed of properly at our house.” She took a deep breath. “I burnt them before the police could find them.”

The anonymous man nodded. “All the letters were done on the same typewriter, but there was a different writer for the last letter. The first client gave me all three names at once, then sent a note delaying part of the payment after each death. You, on the other hand, paid half up front, then the second half the day after he was confirmed dead, and didn’t bother to boast at all in the one letter I have from you. You were very efficient.” He paused. “Also, there were a lot of pictures of you with the others in John’s home. You don’t seem the type to be willing to kill for money. Vengeance on the other hand . . .”

She sighed. “Too bad Mace didn’t feel the same way.”

“If it makes you feel better, he only had three names on the list. He didn’t intend to kill you or the younger ones.”

“That might be because until John died, he couldn’t afford it.”

“Maybe. But he doesn’t seem like the type to think ahead like that. So, are we free of each other?”

“Yes. I’m taking my siblings out of the city and moving to Saratoga or Albany. Someplace in the northern part of the state. And I take it you have no quarrel with us or any intention of giving the police an anonymous tip?”

“You’ve paid your price, dame. You won’t hear from me again.”

#noir au #dr wagner #detective logan #serial killer kurt

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thezodiaczone · 5 years

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November Forecast for Capricorn

Let it go, let it flow! A major 12-year chapter of your life is coming to an end, Capricorn, and you’ll have the next 13 months to navigate the transition. On November 8, Jupiter, the planet of growth, luck and expansion, will shift into Sagittarius and your twelfth house of closure until December 2, 2019. This is a year to “sort the crops,” evaluating everything you’ve created since 2007 and looking at where you want (or need) to correct course.

It sounds serious, and well, this IS a pretty big deal. You’re preparing to start a whole new 12-year cycle in December 2019, when auspicious Jupiter will shift into Capricorn and put your personal goals on the fast track. Until then, you may feel a bit tired or low-key since the twelfth house rules the subconscious, and your “inner world” will be the most active realm of your life. Vivid dreams, serendipitous moments and a slower pace will become the new normal.

In other words, Capricorn, prepare to exit your comfort zone! Well, maybe not entirely because you’ll still have structured Saturn marching through your sign until 2020, making sure you stay on top of your most important goals. At least you’ll still have a tether to the material world. But don’t expect to be too anchored there! With Jupiter in your imaginative and spiritual twelfth house, the next 13 months could awaken your artistic side or help you tap into healing and esoteric abilities. The key word for the twelfth house is “surrender”—and, well, that’s not easy for any mortal to pull off (least of all a take-charge Capricorn!). But you’ll grow so much in the coming months when you stop forcing agendas and swimming upstream and allow the universe to step in to offer a little divine guidance.

The twelfth house rules all things hidden, and that includes agendas. You may find out exactly who is—and isn’t—on Team Capricorn since people’s true colors are clearly revealed by truth-teller Jupiter. With the Sun in Scorpio and your eleventh house of group activity until November 22 (and an eye-opening Scorpio new moon on November 7), you could start shifting some of your alliances this month.

Some of the people you distance yourself from may even share your DNA. You’ll find out starting November 6, when radical changemaker Uranus takes a final four-month lap through Aries and your fourth house of home and family. From March 2011 to May 2018, the side-spinning planet shook up this foundational part of your chart, which may have brought a move, a pregnancy or shifting dynamics with relatives (especially your mother or close female kin). If you’re the type of Capricorn who carries the weight of the world on your shoulders, authentic Uranus helped you “get real” and start liberating yourself from those codependent ties.

Now you have one last round of this before Uranus makes a permanent exit from Aries on March 6, 2019, not to return again in this lifetime. Translation? Your holiday guest list might be a little thinner, but the people on it will actually be enjoyable company. Or if you do a big family gathering, you’ll make sure to keep impenetrable boundaries with the button pushers and avoid the polarizing political conversations. Pro tip: Don’t offer up Casa de Capricorn as a crash pad this year—and if you’re the one traveling, rent a hotel or Airbnb instead of staying with relatives.

On November 16, there’s a retrograde “changing of the guard” as love planet Venus ends a six-week backspin and communicator Mercury STARTS a three-week reversal. Venus has been retrograde since October 5, backing through Libra and your career zone for the past two weeks. If you’ve been at odds with colleagues or feeling out of sorts about work, that’s why. The tenth house also rules fathers and men, so this Venus cycle may have stirred up discord with an important guy in your life.

Any lingering resentments will need to be addressed as Mercury turns retrograde from November 16 to December 6, spending the bulk of its backspin in Sagittarius and your twelfth house of closure and forgiveness. Prepare those olive branches! When the Sun joins Jupiter and Mercury in Sagittarius on November 22, you’ll have a full month to work through any of these issues—and to catch up on serious rest before Capricorn season begins on December 21. Until then, take it easy because you’ll probably feel a bit foggy and emotional, and you need to be gentle with yourself.

You’ll have moment of clarity on November 23, when the year’s only Gemini full moon beams into your orderly and analytical sixth house. Your intuition that’s been running in the background will suddenly connect the dots. If you’ve been weighing a decision, today you could finally make it. The sixth house also rules health and fitness, and this one lunation falls oh-so inconveniently on Thanksgiving weekend in the U.S. But hey, there’s no rule that you have to slip into a post-turkey tryptophan food coma; or if you did that already, don’t beat yourself up—just move on. Today’s moonbeams could inspire a switch to more mindful eating and regular exercise over the holidays. Everything in moderation!

There’s plenty to enjoy about the holidays besides the food, anyway—like the company of great friends. And your social life will be on a definite upswing starting November 24, when hazy Neptune ends a five-month retrograde through Pisces and your third house of communication and community. If you’ve felt a little adrift from your most compassionate crew since June 18 or just haven’t had the time or motivation to catch up, Neptune’s direct turn will help you connect. Make space for meaningful moments over the holiday season.

One of the month’s most heart-opening days arrives on November 26, when the Sun and Jupiter make their annual meetup, this year in Sagittarius and your healing twelfth house. This could be a huge day for epiphanies, from emotional breakthroughs to a major reconciliation (forgiveness is powerful!) to finally letting yourself process a situation that caused heartbreak or grief. While that doesn’t exactly sound like FUN, it’s vital that we let blocked feelings get unstuck, especially because they can lead to stress and even disease if left unattended for too long. This powerful meetup of the life-giving Sun and generous Jupiter reminds you: Suffering is optional! So we recommend opting out and letting yourself be human—vulnerable, messy, real and loveable just the way you are.

Love & Romance

So…where is this thing going? If you’re almost afraid to ask, we can’t blame you, Capricorn. Love planet Venus is wrapping up her retrograde mid-month, a challenging cycle that’s wreaking havoc on hearts from October 5 to November 16. Venus was retrograde in Scorpio and your idealistic eleventh house until October 31 before backing into Libra and your tenth house of long-term plans for the duration.

If you’ve been “future-tripping”—i.e., obsessing over what’s next instead of enjoying the moment—then Venus retrograde has probably been extra-tough for you. Figuring out which way to go has been as clear as cauliflower soup! And since no self-respecting Capricorn likes to travel without a map, you’ll be oh-so-glad to see Venus correct course on November 16. The cosmic love goddess will remain in Libra for the rest of the month, but after that, you’re all clear to resume plotting out your world-domination-for-two master plan!

Meantime, intensifier Mars has been in Aquarius since September 10, heating up your second house of work, money and security. Mars is here until November 15, adding to the pressure to lock in something solid and possibly causing couples to fight over finances. Your hectic schedule and weighty responsibilities may also have made you short-tempered. On the upside, Mars in this posh house could have brought some sultry and sophisticated date nights!

Book yourself one of those on November 9, when Venus and Mars form their third and final trine of the year—a lovely connection that brings out everyone’s best (in spite of Venus still being retrograde). Couples who WANT to talk about the future should book the best table, open a bottle and do it in a luxe, five-star setting today. Bring some pleasure and pampering into the picture, and people will be far more amenable to hearing your requests for more consistency in the relationship, for example. (Just save the Excel spreadsheets for another day…and focus on the Egyptian cotton sheets instead.)

On November 15, Mars will move into Pisces, heating up your third house of communication for the rest of the year. Not only will the red planet add vibrancy to your social life, but single Caps could do some first-class flirting (and who knows where THAT will lead) just as the mistletoe and ambient lighting is being hung.

Key Dates

November 26: Sun-Jupiter Meetup This brilliant annual conjunction could be one the happiest or luckiest days of your year! This time, the annual summit electrifies your twelfth house of recovery, transitions and soulmates. You can almost magically heal a sore spot in your relationship by choosing to forgive and forget (or asking for forgiveness). Singles might meet someone who you feel like you’ve known for lifetimes—’cause maybe you have!

Money & Career

It ain’t over till it’s over! Go-getter Mars is in Aquarius until November 15, revving up your second house of work and money. Mars has been here since September 10, bringing demanding deadlines and duties, stressful expenses as well as money-making opportunities in increased doses. You may need to lean in just a little bit longer—while also navigating some irritating office politics thanks to Venus being retrograde in your career house until November 16. Stay focused on your work and don’t get involved! It would be tempting to unload your stress on someone, but that will only distract you from your duties.

On November 15, Mars moves into Pisces and your communicative third house for the rest of the year. It will be easier to have direct, productive dialogues then (but watch for coming on too strong). A project you’ve been toiling away at might be ready to pitch or put on the market—just in time for Black Friday and holiday season sales.

The Gemini full moon on November 23 prompts you to take inventory of Team Capricorn. If you need to cut some slackers (or properly train people, if they’re not being put to full use), this is a day to start hiring, firing or implementing new systems that will help your life run more smoothly. With Jupiter now in your twelfth house of surrender and rest, you’re gonna need some extra hands, so you might as well start sharpening your delegating skills now.

Key Dates

November 19: Mars-Jupiter Square Under this square between aggro Mars and never-say-never Jupiter, you want to dig in your heels and keep fighting the “good” fight. But if you pause for a moment to observe, you’ll realize it’s only making matters worse. Work harder to find the strength to compromise. Sometimes it’s actually more effective to humble yourself and extend the olive branch.

Love Days: 24, 29 Money Days: 8, 18 Luck Days: 29, 16 Off Days: 27, 31, 13

#capricorn #monthly horoscope #horoscope #horoscopes #astrology #capricorn monthly

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raevenlywrites · 6 years

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Excerpt Tag

Thanks for the tag @converginglives I like this idea of expanding the last line tag, since we all kinda bend the rules on it anyways :P I’m tagging back @cirianne @oceanwriter and @silvertalonwriteblr

I’m also tagging my update list, cause this is a pretty lengthy bit: @chaos-reign @ageekyreader @merigreenleaf @a-sundeen

In honor of Seth’s birthday, I’m posting my favorite chapter from Asylum’s first draft. I did a series of dreams/memories of Seth’s while trying to figure out who he was a character vs. who Naj was, how they interacted in the past, and so on. It’s a loooooong one, so I’m tossing it under a cut, and I don’t remember if it’s spoilery or not, so read at your own risk if you care about that sort of thing.

He scowled at the figured curled up on the sand before him. He couldn't be mad at him, but he was still so full of anger and hurt, even after giving everything he had in the whispering dark. Why were the negative emotions always the first to return? Why couldn't he recall his mother's face, his cousin's laughter, a kind word, a sunny day? It was always the things he tried to keep buried that rose to the surface first. He sat down in the white sand, hurling a handful of sparks to call a fire into life before him. He watched the shadows play across his sleeping companion, wondering if he should wake him. He never rested, never slept, and something about watching the other man lay there made him want to shake him. He didn't feel like himself at all. He was usually so much better at keeping his calm. He turned his gaze to the waxing moon, days away from zenith. The desert always seemed so haunted beneath the silvery light, but it was preferable to the empty stretches of darkness left when il'li Dareiya turned her face away. Balance. Where was his balance? He searched the goddess's face for answers, but she was as empty and silent as he.

He turned back to the crackling fire, willing the heat to seep into him, to chase away the chill from his bones. Funny, but he never seemed to feel the cold of the Whispering Dark before. Numb, yes, empty, yes, but never the cold. Could it be the hawk?

And what was he going to do with her? She was clearly not the devious raptor spell caster she might have seemed—no, it appeared she knew just enough to be a danger to herself and those around her. And he'd shown her how to add more fuel to the fire. What a mess. With a sigh, Naj pushed himself to his feet, deliberately divorcing himself from the tangle of thoughts and memories he should be putting to order. Let Seth do it, when he finally woke. The man never slept, and Naj didn't have it in his heart to wake him, no matter how angry with him he was. But he wasn't of a mind to Seth's work for him, either. He turned away and walked out of the desert without a backward glance.

–

The earth pressed close and cold around them. The smell of an extinguished torch was an acrid tickle at the edge of the shadows. He longed for a fire, but he knew why Aezir held their magic closed tight against them. Just a little longer, a few more days in the darkness, and the danger would be past. He hoped. They'd already gone so deep into the tunnels, flushed out of every corner they'd found to hide in...

A stern cough brought Seth from his fear, and he wrapped himself tighter around Naj, even as Aezir shifted his foot to brush against Seth's leg. The long hours without contact from his nest was taking its toll. Not to mention the eerily silent dark.

He knew they were dead. Anyone who had not fled like they had were certainly smoldering in the remains of the temple above. How ironic that the Ahn'Ki Dai had been burned out of their stronghold. Perhaps that biting smell was more than just the torch.

Seth tossed in his sleep as the fire popped on the sand beside him. One memory of flames gave way to another, a long line of unbroken pain smoldering in his mind.

They were coming, and Master isn't here. Why had he left him behind?

The Dai was fallen, there was nothing left to protect, nothing left to fear. So why had he been left with the nest, when Master marched off to war? Because there was still a war to fight, even with the temple razed. Their enemies would not stop until everything was s'Era, lost to the shadows.

This nest was nothing but shadows. Children of the gods, left to scrabble and fend for themselves in the ruins of a broken world. There had been power here, once. It had never been paradise, but it had been ours, and we will have it again...

A mind brushed over his, and he shrunk away, pulling deeper into himself as he went serpent still, willing himself to be silent, unnoticed.

Why were the raptors always so agitated?

Or, more importantly, why were they the ones sent to tend the ill? He was certain he'd fare much better with quiet, a serpent nursemaid, and the chance to simply sleep.

But rough arms were around him, forcing him to sit up and drink. The herbs were suspended in what felt like raw power, and he sputtered and gagged on the strength of the spirit.

The falcon swore at him, called him an ignorant hatchling as she rushed to clean the mess from her skin. What could they possibly fear from touching something they expected him to drink? But it was true, under all the prickly agitation and the hot anger, there was a thread of fear.

He took what little energy he had and wrapped the remains of the potion in a venom crystal. He spat the little pearly lump out onto the bed and covered it with his hand.

He gritted his teeth in an attempt to stifle his growing agitation as Sioban calmly batted his spell away, again. They'd been at it for what felt like days, and the only thing he'd set on fire was the room around him. The smothering heat surely was not helping his mood.

But they could not leave until burned away the spelled rope that bound her, proving him an acceptable student and her a capable teacher.

“It's still lacking substance, naja. Just get angry already and try to burn me, will you? I assure you, your little fireballs will have no effect on me.”

The golden hawk met his gaze with an almost bored nonchalance, but he could tell she was losing her patience. Had she never worked with serpent-kin before? If so, she was failing this test as surely as he. Her emotions were plastered across her aura, digging and niggling at him every time he tried to hold a thought. She angry, aggravated, impatient, haughty—everything he'd come to expect from raptor-kin. But laying over it all like a slick mildew was fear. He never seen that in a raptor's aura. Never. It was the first thing they learned to hide as children, and the last thing they'd ever admit to feeling. How precarious was her position that the clearly high-born hawk hen was all but sweating her fear?

It wasn't him—most of the raptors had hardly given him any notice when he'd traveled with his father to the h'somu of the D'ahnkkhna priesthood to establish peaceful intent. Only the serpent-kin of the mixed group would speak to them, after the initial presentation, and Seth was certain it was only their constant guard that had granted them entrance to towering mountain stronghold at all. No, none of the feathered folk he'd encountered then or now had paid him any mind—so what was Sioban afraid of?

He couldn't attack her, not like this. He couldn't strike at anyone resonating so strongly with fear. With a tired sigh, he pushed himself up from the cross-legged position he'd been instructed to sit in and climbed down from his raised dais. As he approached hers, the hawk froze, not even a hissed breath marring her perfect stillness.

“Wh-what are you doing?”

Seth stilled, not the motionless terror that she was caught in, but the quiet emptiness that all serpents could assume. He counted heartbeats, one, two, three, until taking another step forward. Her wrists surged against the bonds pinning her to the altar, eyes growing to show whites all the way around, but still she did not breathe. Was she drawing power?

Still, Seth could not raise a hand against her, even if she claimed it was the only route to free them both. He could not, and would not do it, so instead of sending another ungrounded surge of flame to lick uselessly at the walls, he'd resolved to try something different.

“Don't touch me!”

The desperate shriek that pierced the silence send prickles racing along Seth's skin to tighten in painful gooseflesh. She was terrified, and not even trying to hide it any longer as she writhed against the bonds she knew she could not break. Her breath returned to her in ragged, rapid gasps, and her wild eyes now squeezed tightly shut against the coming inevitability.

What inevitability? What does she know that I do not?

He drew a long breath, willing it to be steady and strong against the bitter tang of her panic. He took another,and another, trying to drain the room of her desperation, trying to impose his calm over it, trying to find balance in his soul against the terrified pounding of her heart.

“What are you so afraid of?”

It was a question never asked of any avian, and it was barely asked now. Seth could not bring his voice to anything louder than the brush of a whisper, but her eyes flew open and locked on him just the same. They stared at each other for a moment, his confusion and her fear both wore open and naked between them, then her words came in a babbling rush as the dam of her resolve broke.

“Don't you know what they want to do with us? Don't you know why we're here? Monsters, they're all monsters, and they want to make more of the same. What they want—it's madness, nothing but madness! They'll take us back to the burning times, to those savage wars—there won't be a single feather or scale left unsigned—they can't be allowed to do this!”

Her babbling broke off into a cascade of prayer, a rush of words in the old tongue that Seth could barely understand. They'd been forbidden to speak it outside of a set circle, didn't she know that, for fear the power they could accidentally call. But the words of flight and grace and mercy she summoned never came, despite the desperation in her pleas. The only answer was a falling of darkness complete, the sound of steel on stone, and the wet gurgle as her prayer broke off and winged its way to the heavens.

Music drifted over the white sand, a tinkling of sound as faint and distant as the starlight. It came on a small wind, gentle and warm as a mother's kiss. Seth's hair ruffled in the breeze, air cooling the sweat on his brow. The tension in his face eased, and the campfire beside him quieted to a bed of banked coals.

There was always fire burning in the big pit in the middle of the long house, no matter how hot it was outside. Even if it was a simple bed of coals, buried under a fine layer of ash, the fire was never allowed to completely burn out.

He sat before the pit, little face screwed up in concentration. He could feel the fire beneath the ashes, but he had no idea how to call it. It was fire. It didn't listen. It didn't come bounding gleefully into the room when you whistled, didn't alight on an arm held out to the sky, didn't beg for fish scraps when it followed you to the river. It was fire.

And yet, his mother said this was his lesson for the day. Call the fire. She sat at the far end of the long room, calmly working at her loom, seeming to ignore him. He knew better—den'Shelena saw everything. Like the great eye of Dareiya herself, mother's namesake, the moon saw day and night alike, in darkness and light. Nothing was hidden from her.

But the fire remained hidden from him. He wanted to cry. Wanted to yell at the fire, to kick and rage and command it to rise, as he'd learned to command his scales. Was that the trick to it? Did he need to touch his serpent self?

Tentatively, he let a ripple of pale scales slide over his hand. His mother coughed, and he jerked back, tucking his hand guiltily behind him. But she kept weaving, picking up a shuttle of crimson thread, and he turned back to the fire. His hand was sheathed in red scales now, and when his mother remained silent, he reached out and brushed the ashes from the coals.

Mother had taught him to be very, very careful of his manners.

All growing up, hours in the long house had been spent practicing greetings and gestures, the languages of their neighbors, along with the dances and magics and stories of their own people. He felt confident he could handle anything, even with his adult's wrappings still unfinished on his mother's loom. Surely it was long enough by now?

But even without the ceremonial garment, his parents had agreed that he should travel with his father's group to the h'somu Danhkkhna. It was probably better this way, actually, because dressed in the wrappings of a child, his mistakes could be more easily forgiven—Oh yes, overhearing that little bit of conversation had done wonders for his meditation, practicing to clamp his aura down tight so as not to offend their avian neighbors with his emotions.

And what of their offense to him, hmm? Why should he have to pretend to be something he was not, cut away a part of him so precious, so as not to be seen as improper? What exactly was proper about pretending not to be moved by the world around him? Mother said it would be a different story if they were coming to the longhouse—but of course, that would never happen. If a leh'Danhkkhna'ra came here, it would be a serpent member of their ranks. And even that was unlikely—why visit a small village on the borders of leshkan and lefu holdings, instead of visiting their respective strongholds?

And yet lah'Seth was expected to make the journey to the h'somu. And his son was expected to come with him.

But we don't even want to be a kingdom, he'd complained to this mother. Why do we have to act like one?

Because we want the right not to be a kingdom, she'd answered, and left the longhouse without another word.

She wouldn't return for another three days. And by then, he was finally emptied of everything.

Hannah was a piece of the sunlight itself.

Her mother, h'eija of the priesthood was even more radiant, shining with a light that came from within, but Hannah was still young enough that she merely glowed with power, rather than blazed.

Her golden wings had been the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen.

Standing behind her mother's seat, an intricately carved stool with no back that let her wings spread wide behind her, Hannah was almost lost in the golden haze. She held herself so perfectly straight and still, he had wondered if she were part of the carvings. Though, honestly, he'd wondered that about everyone in the room. They could be standing in audience before an assembly of statues, cold jewels and precious metals wrought into the image of living beings, but completely devoid of life.

Then Hannah had shifted, ever so slightly, to get a better look at their party.

He wouldn't have noticed it, except for the small flash of light as her mother's blaze reflected off a razor-edged feather in Hannah's wing. He told her this as they lunched on the balcony, after the formal introductions were over. She'd been dying to know what had draw his attention to her, over all the glittering throng of the priesthood. She'd stood perfectly patient throughout the rest of the audience, and even kept up the image of polite but detached interest through most of lunch. But finally, her curiosity got the better of her, and it had colored her aura with the slightest of tint. In a serpent, it would have gone completely unnoticed. But it was the first inkling of emotion he'd gotten off of any of these cold, beautiful people, and he'd pounced on it without a thought.

He'd apologized profusely, but that slip had allowed Hannah to finally breathe, and for the rest of the afternoon, they'd talked quietly and still politely about each others peoples, but he had finally felt like he was talking to another living person, and it had done much to put him at ease.

He thought of the little golden girl for weeks afterwards, a million questions he'd wished he'd been brave enough ask niggling at him in the night. Don't you get lonely, locked in your own skin like that? What's it like, being groomed to rule but not knowing for a certainty that it will be your duty? How do you work so closely with serpents and not laugh or cry or yell like they do? Why had our parents talked of allegiances, and fealties, and duties?

Are we going to be enemies some day?

Bird passed him another stone, and he hurled it violently into the river. It didn't skip lightly, as all of Bird's had, and he didn't care. He hadn't wanted to play this stupid game in the first place. Bird sighed and heaved to his feet, popping his back with a stretch.

“Alright, rei'shkan, let's have it. You've taken enough of your rage out on the river. Time to talk.”

He scowled and thought about throwing himself in the river, but he knew Bird would never let him hear the end of it if he had to half-drown himself saving his best friend.

“I don't want any of it, Bird. You know that.”

“Aaand?”

That man had no sympathy. And he had to admit, Bird was fully a man now. Sometime over the summer, when he had been in the mountains, his friend had grown up without him. Why he had had to go and Bird had been allowed to stay, he didn't understand. Bird's second form actually bore the mark of the king cobra. Who cared that he himself was technically closer to the royal line? Who cared about royalty this far out into the woods anyways? The fact that Bird still called him simply rei'shkan, cobra, was probably the only reason he hadn't slipped his guard and cousin and went off to brood on his own. reijye Xane Kismeron lah'Seth'ra felt less like an actual name than it ever had, and more and more like the ropes he knew it to be. Whether harness or noose, he hadn't yet decided.

Bird poked him in the back with the butt of his spear, earning his lanky cousin a growl. Bird only met it with a snort.

“Brooding's done now, unless you want to go to be the h'somu and join the priesthood. I'm sure they could use another savage to watch over their little hatchlings.”

With the fluid grace and alarming speed of his animal form, he sprang from the ground and punched Bird firmly in the face.

“Don't talk about Hannah!”

Bird looked up the dirt, crooked grin on his face, blood trickling down his chin.

“Finally, he speaks.”

He didn't answer, fine tremors running through his limbs. If he spoke now, he would burn his cousin alive. Or pound his head into the dirt until his brains spilled out. Or both. His cobra temper had finally had enough.

Bird pushed himself into a sitting position, but otherwise didn't move. He wouldn't be the one to start this fight. Any more than he'd already done with his words.

“If she's that important to you, do something about it.”

Apparently, Bird didn't feel he'd said his piece yet. It was all he could do to calm his own anger, so he remained silent. Bird took that for an invitation to continue.

“You're of royal blood, lah'Seth'ra. It may not count for much among our fathers, but the h'somu thought enough of it to invite you over me. You're eligible for the priesthood, the real priesthood, and not just some glorified baby sitting job.” After a slight pause to taste the air, he added, “You could work together, as equals. H'il'li.”

Finally, he was calmed enough to speak.

“You know I can't, Bird. I don't have a twin, like my father. The line is completely dependent on me. My threads haven't been on Fate's shuttle for a long time. I'm already locked by weave and weft. And what has been woven can't be unthreaded without tearing apart all else, the good and the bad.”

“And why must they be unraveled?” Bird said immediately, giving him no quarter. “It is you that hold to them, not the other way around. Let them go, and dance.”

It was so easy for his cousin. Bird would never be expected to lead, never be called on to sit on any serpent throne—the real one in Obsidian Castle or the just as heavy but never acknowledged one of his father's people. Bird was the person who understood him the most, and even he couldn't grasp the impossibility of his suggestion, his devil-may-care dare to dance freely. He couldn't. He could not, so that his people could have the choice to. He gave the freedom they held so very dear, so that at least someone could dance. So that they could take that freedom for granted.

Suddenly, he was very, very angry. His rage flickered across his skin, lines of fire racing up and down his bare limbs and middle, his face. The fire burned all along his body, because it had no where else to go. He couldn't direct it outward, at any effigy of his imprisonment. He couldn't flame and rage at the cage that held him. So he burned, brighter and brighter like a falling star, spending its all in one last desperate dive to the earth.

When he'd burned himself out, Bird covered him with a blanket against the growing chill of the night, and climbed a tree to keep watch over their camp.

The fire raged across the white desert, re-charring trees that had already stood empty and black. Only the large dark rock by the lake, and the man sleeping in the hollow of it's lee, remained untouched. The little campfire at Seth's side went out, starved for oxygen as the larger inferno blazed on, razing the already desolate landscape.

Seth's lips dried and cracked in the heat, and whatever other words he'd been about to say died. What tenuous grasp on wakefulness he'd had was stolen away, as the fire stole his breath, and he collapsed again into unconsciousness.

–

Llorinda's fingers on the laces at his hips tickled. He wanted to bat her away, but he understood her need to make sure everything looked just so. He'd asked her to do it, out of the same fastidious need. And because she was the only female who's eye he trusted that he actually could ask such things of.

“You'll be fine, Meron,” she said lightly, eyes still on her work.

He wanted to scowl or give some curt reply, but the annoyance in his aura, and the anxiety underneath, were clear enough. Though he held his aura more closely than his neighbors—especially after visiting the h'somu in the mountains—skin to skin contact would tell her almost his every thought. It didn't help that she was one of his oldest friends.

Or rather, it did help. Llorinda's presence, her support by extension, did much to soothe his frazzled nerves. She didn't say, “I know,” didn't give the laces a firmer tug than necessary to drive the point home. She just quietly went about her work, sitting back on her heels occasionally to judge their evenness, and let him stew in his own dread.

It's just a dance, he told himself. Just one stupid little dance you've practiced a hundred times. With his nerves this ramped up, he was just as likely to call the fire on accident as with the ceremonial dance. Either way, the central fire would be lit for the year, and his people's prosperity would be assured.

The only real question was whether or not his dignity would survive the winter.

“Up or down?”

He started from his thoughts at Llorinda's question, and stared stupidly down at her until she asked again.

“U-up, of course,” he said.

She nodded and began to lace the pants just under his knees. Her lack of comment prompted him to continue. “It's traditional, isn't it? Cuffs are worn high for any fire dances.”

Llorinda nodded again, holding one end of the cord in her teeth as she worked. Once free of the burden she answered. “I know how to dress a leh'shcarmn for a ki'ramn. I was asking you how you'd prefer to be dressed.”

He paused and mulled over her words, knowing she'd made the distinction for a reason. Was it belittling his skills, calling his footwork into question? If he wore them down, his calves wouldn't be painted with the gold markings that would glint in the firelight, showing off the steps.

No, that wasn't it. Llorinda would tease him about just about anything, but not things of real importance. He was truly nervous about this, and she would know it, and wouldn't undermine his confidence.

So what was she asking? She hadn't stopped lacing the cuff up around his knee, like he'd asked, so why even say anything? Would she be willing to take them back down if he changed his mind? He wouldn't want to make her redo the all over again—

And it wouldn't be like her to waste the effort, if she thought he really might. So she knew he wanted them up, but wanted him to think about why.

Was he wearing them this way, simply because of tradition? What was he trying to prove? Yes, the night was about proving their reijye was a capable areta, able to call the magic of his birthright and fit to lead them. But most of them had seen him call fire at one time or another before, albeit informally. So what was this evening really about?

How would you prefer to be dressed?

She was asking him to present his real face to the people, he realized. His friend was challenging him to be more than icon and leader to the people he lived and loved with. To stop holding himself back, to truly dance when he called the fire.

But could he do it? Could he let his people in, let them see the pain that hovered just behind his smile, darted in the shadows at the corners of his eyes, sighed out with his every laugh and joke?

“I prefer them laced down.”

“I know.”

Still she laced them above the knee, moving on to fix the next cuff.

–

“Your cakes taste like dirt.”

Raith made a face as Llorinda passed him a bun, frosted in honey paste. That self-pleased smile touched at the edge of her lips, and he always wondered what she was thinking when she wore that look. It couldn't be pride in her work. Raith was right. They did taste like dirt.

Marl stumbled forward, helped along by Bird's knee, and blushed furiously. Llorinda smiled prettily, batting her eyes and turning a little rosy herself. He wondered when the two of them were finally going to get together. Marl had fancied her all growing up, and the feeling only seemed to be deepening.

“G-good morning, Miss Llorinda.”

The other baker apprentices surfaced in a flurry of giggles, trying to look busy setting out the morning's ware, but they were almost as gossipy as dancers. One stuck her thumb right in the middle of a fruit tart. She'd been too busy watching their group to notice.

He was never sure what drew their attention. The infamous Four Winds, his band of closest friends, or the strangely reserved romance between Marl and Llorinda. Both sights were sure to yield excellent gossip.

Bird mimicked Marl's greeting in a high falsetto, tossing his head and looking for all the world like the stork he was nicknamed for. He wanted to throw a fish at him and see if he'd catch it with his teeth or his face.

Raith elbowed him, coming to Marl's defense. “Manners are just as important to have as to hear,” he chided him, pushing him away from Marl and Llorinda. Bird stammered, “But you just said they taste like dirt!”, struggling to get around Raith's corralling.

“That I did, and they do, but there's no call to make fun of them. Good morning, Miss Llorinda.” He never looked back as he literally pushed Bird to another stall.

He walked away himself, shaking his head. He heard Marl behind him declaring that he loved Llorinda's baking, and thought this year's h'Cheres cakes would be the best year, echoed by another twitting of giggles from the other bakers.

He just smiled and ate his breakfast, chewing on the grit.

–

A hot wind blew across the desert, but it was a gentle warmth compared to the blaze from before. It carried the smell of sun and spices, a bustling marketplace somewhere far, far away. The heat wrapped around Seth, chasing away the chill that been trying to settle on him after the campfire had gone out.

For the first time since falling asleep, the creases in Seth's forehead eased. He didn't quite smile, but he was finally resting easily.

-?-

Seth woke in an instant, feeling the sudden press of so much earth above him. He was deep in a cave, warm and close like a mother, and it terrified him. He should be in the desert, if he were anywhere other than Naj's side, and this much earth made him feel suffocated.

He drew a harsh zig zag in the air above his chest—zt, the symbol of negating. It would hide his presence and calm his panic until he could figure out what was going on. It was just an ignorant gesture, an old wives' charm to ward off the evil eye, unlikely to do anything more than soothe him.

He certainly hadn't expected it to tear a jagged line in the darkness.

Where his hand had moved, the cool white sand of the desert night glowed like a lightning strike, harsh against the darkness. Seth began methodically wiping it away, using proper banishing circles to chase away the darkness, like he would the remains of any other spell gone awry. The darkness didn't dissipate easily, more phantom earth falling in to fill whatever he had banished. He worked slowly and carefully, cutting the darkness with a frantic zt when his window to the outside world vanished in the darkness again. He would not panic. He would not let this rising feeling of dread overcome him.

Not even when the view outside his prison changed.

No longer did the zt cut the darkness to reveal the white desert. Now it opened up to a view of the stage, dark except for one harsh spotlight. He couldn't see much, didn't dare waste his concentration on making sense of it, because every moment he wasn't actively pushing away the darkness, it caved back in on him. Somewhere, after hours or minutes in the long, false night, the cave had gone from earthly to sinister. Feelings of movement flashed behind him—always behind him—and the impression of eyes and teeth in the dark. He felt hunted, stalked, trapped, and it ate away at his calm, urging him toward the madness of fight or flight. So far, he was still in command of his senses, but for how long? How long until his panic made him forget something, made him slip? Until the image of the dark stage no longer soothed him with the promise of freedom. The white desert was his home, his safe place. The slice of stage in the spotlight was almost as dark as the press around him.

In a way, Seth was lucky this darkness was so foreboding. If it had called to him, soothed him in the way of the whispering dark... Things did call to him, groping in the darkness for him as if knowing he was there, but he pushed it all away with a banishing zt. Whatever wanted him in this darkness, it couldn't have him.

Of course, his gesture had only opened a larger window onto the stage.

A woman in the center of the spotlight. Dark streaks marred her flesh, but he couldn't make out if they were wounds, or...

Another figure stepped between them, icy shadows radiating off of him, spilling in through the window. Seth drew back with a hiss, but it made no sound. He clutched at his throat, panic clawing at his chest, and the darkness closed back in around him.

The same icy shadows that had been rolling off the man on stage.

“I trust you understand what's happening?”

It wasn't a question—it was so thick with promise and seduction, it was almost more foreplay than anything else. And it made Seth's stomach roil. He began to sing, knowing it would make no sound but hoping that if he focused on his own words, it would block out that other voice. He'd spent many a long hours in his first training with the Dai, singing and singing until his throat cracked and bled, unless his instructor had broken his jaw before that point. And even still, he'd sing in his mind, drawing strength from the one thing that had kept him sane as a serpent who hadn't been allowed to freely dance.

Song was his savior now.

He sang poems and ballads of ancient heroes, sang love songs and tragedies and children's ditties—anything and everything he could think of. He filled the darkness with silent music and desperate tears as he wiped and wiped at the darkness, not daring to draw another window. Still, the occasional sound broke through. Screaming. Laughing. Moaning, not all of it in pain. Each sound spurred him to sing louder, until eventually, even his trial-hardened determination gave out, and he was swallowed up by the darkness.

When he woke again, he was still wrapped in darkness. But it was the warm and welcoming darkness of before, the press of the earth. It still panicked him, but the place in his brain where fear lived was empty and cold. He was glad for that.

All around him, threads of that otherness, that icy darkness still lingered. He reached for one and tried to follow it, hoping it would lead to something other than darkness, but it vanished the instant he touched it.

Not without leaving its mark.

The ghostly memories of pain and sick laughter pierced through his mind, searing an image into his brain like a brand. Nica, hanging limp and lifeless, dark marks covering her flesh. Blood or magic, he couldn't tell, and it didn't matter. Her head fell back in a wordless scream, but he could still feel the sound of it through the emotion that poured off of her. She was breaking, and she knew it. Soon, Azriel would grow bored of her and search for new playthings among her nestmates. She had to hold out, had to endure until he was finished, had to keep her nest safe—

Another scream, and a sense of violation Seth had never before felt. Rape had been just another tool in the Dai trainers' arsenal, another way to break their captives down into tools, but it had never been like this. It didn't have a damned thing to do with the disconnect between their bodies—Azriel was violating their soul. The things he did with their flesh were mere echoes of the things he did with their minds, and Seth nearly feel unconscious against it.

But Nica had held strong, and that kept the memory alive and burning in his mind. Even when he was too weak, she remained, and did what it took to keep her nest safe. How she'd forged such mettle in herself, in so few years compared to his own, he'd never fathom. But she was strong, stronger than him, and she would protect what was hers.

In that moment, Seth was determined to stand at her back. This woman would hold against all the nightmares that might rise from Naj's past. This woman was strong enough to see him through terrors, remembered and resurfaced, and she would protect him with her all. He didn't know yet how he could help, but he would pledge his all to upholding Nica, and in doing so fulfill his promise to Naj, and Aezir.

Finally, the memory ended, and Seth fell mercifully into the black. His last thought was an almost amused realization that the whispering dark would never hold sway over him again.

He awoke again and again in the darkness, surrounding him with gentle warmth. Each time, he reached for a thread, bracing as it unraveled and pressed upon him a new memory. They danced and blurred together in a long line of torture, release, blackness. He was beginning to wonder if he'd died, and this was his eternal punishment, for the perversion of Li'Daea's gifts he'd allowed himself to become. He should have found a way to kill himself in those first days as a Dai captive, to escape with his magic pure and untainted, never bent against his fellow man. But the time for such things was past. And so, with another waking in the dark behind him, he reached for a thread.

Seth almost didn't understand what was happening, this change from the endless litany. The thread had wrapped around him, racing up his wrist, coiling around his chest, splitting off into many, many strands to wrap around his legs and neck, to cover his mouth. He was too bewildered to untangle the idea that he was being pulled, drawn inexorably toward...somewhere?

The blackness was changing, losing its thickness and morphing into black smoke. Endless upon endless billows of black, inky smoke. All being drawn Somewhere.

Not drawn. Pushed. Something was pushing the darkness away, willing it to be Elsewhere, anywhere else, so long as it didn't settle on her.

But it had to go to her. It had been meant for her. He had drawn shares of it into himself, and it hadn't been intended to happen that way. So now that she was near, or he was nearer her, the spell wrapped in on itself, on the pieces of itself that he carried, and tried to drag him back home.

The motion was stop and go. The pulling was insistent, constant, but whatever was allowing them to bridge the gap to her was intermittent. As his wits gathered, Seth remembered that the her was Nica, and the spell was a demon's, and he had sworn to himself to her. He dug his will in deep, anchoring it to the darkness that was warm and safe, and pull the smoke around himself.

Memories beat at him, bits of the spell trying to wear him down. He would not yield. If the spell wanted Nica, then he would keep it here with himself with his dying breath. He drew the smoke inside him, dragging it down, down, willing it to become his. Each vision of Nica's torment only made him stronger, showing him the determination radiating from her bruised and broken body. If she could endure, he would endure, and give her whatever strength he had. Nica would lead this nest, would keep Naj safe, and Seth could rest. Even if it meant resting in this endless darkness.

#OC Seth #WIP excerpts #asylum spoilers #tag games

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