#honestly even just seeing the shire in the beginning of fellowship always makes me cry

[tiredesperdad]

Me watching lotr alone: crying so much I give myself a headache

Me watching lotr with friends: did you know that hobbits love mushrooms?

[gossip-girl-of-middleearth]

The Road Less Traveled (Fellowship x Pregnant!Reader)

Synopsis: Left by a man who took you out of wedlock, you discover halfway through the Fellowship’s journey that you are, indeed, pregnant. Not wishing for you to face motherhood alone, the Fellowship conspires, regarding whom gets to marry you and help raise your child, leaving you with a tough choice.

This was not at all how you saw your life going—both the man leaving you for another woman, and finding out you were pregnant with his baby on a perilous quest, miles upon miles away from the nearest dwelling.

You had been madly in love with this man, unaware he had eyes for another. Your copulating love was taken out of wedlock, a choice you knew had its risks, but Brander had a charming way about him.

You never would have thought he’d leave you. However, one morning, Brander announced the conclusion of your relationship with another woman on his arm.

Heartbroken and enraged, you threw all his clothes from your shack, and took to a horse. Riding swiftly, you headed to the one place you knew hearts were healed; Rivendell.

Upon your arrival, a council of sorts was taking place. One thing led to another, as per usual in your life, and you found yourself on another journey—this time with a higher purpose, and nine other guys.

Things were difficult, but honestly relieving. The fresh air cleansed your soul, as did the healthy relationships you built up with the nine males—proving to you that they weren’t all bad, right on time before you could curse the entire species of XY chromosomes out forever.

However, this was as far as the fun went.

It started with a tiredness the Fellowship brushed off due to your inexperience, and then the lateness of your period. Next, early dawns were spent throwing up in the woods, with whomever was on night-watch holding your hair back, usually Aragorn, Legolas or Boromir.  

You wept slightly when a sparring match with Boromir resulted in a shield hitting your breasts, for they were very tender as of late. The final nail in the coffin was the snubbing of Sam’s usually delicious bacon making you hurl.

Gandalf had taken to speaking with you privately, and asked, in the politest manner possible, if he could assess your womb to find confirmation of another soul.

Legolas approached slowly, crouched down by your side, and spoke responsively in the most apologetic of voices.

“There is no need—I can hear their heartbeat…I am so sorry, Y/n.”

You broke down into tears quickly, and everyone soon knew your predicament that evening. You apologized over and over, and felt utterly mortified. How embarrassing.

They now knew the choice you had made out of wedlock, and were pregnant as a result—something highly frowned upon in human society, and many others in Middle-earth, for that matter. You would no doubt be branded as a “whore” upon your return to society.

You told them all about Brander that night, and opened up to them fully. Jaws were clenched, nervous glances were flashed, and brows were furrowed.

They now had an expectant, first-time mother in their midst, on their way to quite possibly the worst place in the world to take a pregnant woman. Adding onto this, their poor friend, whom they had grown quite close with, was in a horrible situation.

But perhaps it was one they could help with?

Driven by noble blood and true chivalry, the Fellowship started to discuss their options.  

“It’s just awful, what that ‘Brander’ fellow has done to her,” said Boromir, discreetly nodding over in your direction.

You were sat with your head in one hand on a log by the fire, face contorted in misery. Your cheeks and eyes, as well as your nose, were all pink, due to a long while of crying.

Sam sat on one side of you, and held your hand. He reassured you with bright words of soothing promises.

“Don’t worry, Miss Y/n! All will work out! You’ll see! You’re bringing a new soul into this world! That’s nothing to be ashamed of!” Sam would say.

Merry, Frodo and Pippin were on your other side, rubbing your back and holding your shoulder.

“He’s right!” they’d agree, nodding profusely. “You’ll see! This is a wonderful thing. You just can’t quite picture it yet, but you will!”

Gimli, Boromir, Aragorn and Legolas were all huddled in close, standing in a circle. They stood a little further off from the fire, but still caught its glow.

Gandalf was sat on a log himself, puffing away on a pipe. The affairs of human society were not his responsibility, but he offered guidance from a distance nonetheless. He already knew all would work out, but was the only one there oldest and wisest enough to realize so.

Legolas’ arms were folded over his chest, as were the three others’ he stood with. “She’ll be shamed wherever she goes, and her child will be considered a bastard. Truly awful…I feel compelled to help. What can we do?”

“Well, to avoid public slander,” Aragorn spoke up knowingly, “she’d have to be married.”

“Very well and all,” Gimli whispered back, “but were you perhaps not present when she said the scoundrel ran off with another filly?”

“He was not whom I was referencing,” Aragorn mentioned. He threw a studious glance in your direction, and spoke again. “She is a fine young lady, with a strong heart and homely nature. She would make a wonderful wife, and I feel it our duty as her friends to make sure she becomes so.”

“You mean for us to marry her?” Legolas asked, incredulously. His head lowered in shock as he spoke, and a brow arched.

The guys, save for Aragorn, who overlooked it all, glanced between each other tensely, unsure if the alarmed glint in their eyes was competition or fear.

Boromir was the first to speak up.

“I will do it, in a heartbeat!” he said. “You are right, Aragorn—she is a wonderful young lady, and deserves to be wed in time for her child. I will care for them both.”

“Well, now hold on a moment,” Legolas snapped, glaring across at Boromir. “Why do you get to marry her? I am much closer in age to her than you are…figuratively speaking, at least. I should be the one to marry her—we get along best.”

“You?” Gimli snorted. “You will outlive her in the blink of an eye.”

“Oh, and you won’t?” Legolas said back. “None of us implied romance anyways, Gimli. I’d merely be a lifelong friend and guardian for her and her child. I’m the most suited out of everyone here to provide for her—”

“Because you’re a prince?” Boromir interjected, narrowing his eyes.

“Not just because of that,” Legolas bit back, squaring up with Boromir slightly. “But what of it regardless? What does it matter how I provide for her? I plan on renouncing my title and making a life of my own anyways. I might not get the chance for a child of my own, and I can help Y/n raise hers.”

“She’s not some puppy, laddie,” Gimli snorted back. “You both want to store her away in a little cottage or unit somewhere drab. I can provide her with culture! Dwarven culture! Her little one deserves to grow up in grand halls and eat ripened meat!”

Aragorn looked between the unfolding drama, and soon raised a hand before you could become even more distressed. Fortunately, you hadn’t heard a thing of their hushed conversation.

“That is enough,” Aragorn said. “I’d offer to marry her myself, but…well, I do believe you three are better suited than me to provide a stable life for her. It is ultimately up to Y/n. All either three of you can do is offer your hand in marriage to her, and see what she says.”

Glares were thrown between the three potential suitors, as each wondered who’d be the first to turn around and run towards you.

As it turns out, all three turned on their heels at the same. They nearly tripped over one another. However, they stopped almost immediately, for someone on the other side already had the same idea.

“It is quite all right, Y/n,” Frodo said, down on one knee before you, and holding your hand. “The Shire will accept you, and I can just say I fell in love on the road and married you immediately. I have a big house now left all to myself, with many rooms. You can have one to yourself, as can your child. Bilbo did the same for me when I was young.”

You were crying again, but this time out of happiness. Your other hand was placed over your chest, as you smiled down at the kind hobbit with a wavering lower lip.

“Oh, Frodo, that is so incredibly kind, I can only say—”

“DON’T SAY ANYTHING!” Legolas shouted, rushing forwards. He nearly shoved Frodo out of the way, and took his place holding your hand swiftly.

“Y/n,” he began, sincerely, “I’ve always felt that you and I have had a…special bond since beginning this journey together. I can provide you with a cottage in the forest, and true protection. I’m an archer and an elf—your child will learn many life skills with me as their parental guardian. And, furthering this, after you’ve moved on from our world, your child will surely be left behind. I can ensure they are well-cared for up until their own departure!”

“Oh, Legolas, I don’t know what to...” you went to say, holding his hand with both of yours. You were truly starting to get overwhelmed with happiness and relief.

“Oh, shove it, pixie!” Gimli shouted from behind Legolas. He, too, stole the snarling elf’s place, chivalrously removing his helmet as he did so. “Lass, I know I may not be your usual type, or blonde, but I am asking for your hand as well. I can offer you so much in Dwarven society. The women are strong, and you will find ranks in them! Your child will be given an equal chance, no matter the gender, to be themselves! Life in the halls is a true marvel—”

“Enough, the both of you!” Boromir shouted next. He tugged Gimli by the beard and threw him away. “Y/n, you and I are both humans. I understand you and our shared culture better than anyone else here! Please, nothing would make me happier than to provide for you as my wife. Not to mention, the child will look most like me, racially-wise.”

The hobbits all looked between each other with shocked smiles, intrigued by the situation, and Gandalf and Aragon merely shook their heads.

Legolas grabbed hold of Boromir’s shoulder and stood him up. “Race has nothing to do with it! If we’re really going to narrow this down to looks, I am the tallest! That is highly desirable in a husband! Y/n and her child will live a wonderfully secure and safe life with me. You need to back off.”

“Why don’t you make me?” Boromir bit back.

Before a fight could break out between the two of them, Gimli hopped into the middle and added his own string of harsh words.

The three suitors of differing races soon began to bicker between themselves, leaving you sat on the log very stunned indeed.

However, after a long while of listening to them argue over who gets to marry you, you put up your hand and silenced them. Although, it took a good few shouts until they shut up completely and curiously blinked down at you.

“Boys. Boys! BOYS!” Once the attention was on you, you spoke again. “I am so incredibly flattered by your equal devotion, it has truly made me feel better about everything, but...do I not get a say in whom I marry out of everyone here?”

Legolas moved his body slightly, so he stood facing you straight. “Well, whom do you choose, my lady?”

Frodo had backed off entirely, but shared a lipped smile with you, ultimately letting you know the offer was still on the table regardless. Boromir, Gimli and Legolas all stared at you optimistically, leaning forwards as they waited for your reply.

Stumped by so many choices, and considering you didn’t even know this would be a part of your life plan up until five hours ago, you went with the smartest choice; waiting.

“These are all very early days…” you began. “I’m very overwhelmed by all the offers, and still getting used to the idea of motherhood, and now marriage—”

You took a calming breath.

“You’re all so sweet, and I truly appreciate your support, but…could I perhaps sit on it for a while, and return with an answer at a later time? This is a very big decision, as you can all imagine.”

They quickly agreed, and nodded their heads vehemently.

“Take all the time you need!” they said reassuringly, in one form or another.

That night, they all waved sweet “goodnights” over their shoulders to you, and even gave up their cloaks and packs to create what they deemed the perfect “mother’s nest” for you to sleep on.

It was all very sweet, and warmed your heart. However, although half the problem was solved, you were presented with another; who on earth were you going to choose to marry and raise your unborn child with?

Actually, the more you thought about it that night, as you fell asleep with nine friends protecting you as you slept in the middle, like a herd of animals keeping their mother-to-be safe, the more you realized you already knew exactly whom you wanted to live with.

[avantegarda]

Guess Who’s Coming to Mordor

(Another installment of my “Maglor Joins the Fellowship” Au

Listen, @most-definitely-human, @cherepashkadrabbles, @semperaeternumque, @mywoesaregranular, @whatstolkienherepeeps, @fat-flubber-seal ,and everyone else who was foolish enough to encourage me…I don’t know what you were expecting other than the fic equivalent of an episode of Saturday Night Live, but that’s what you’re getting.

–

First impressions were clearly unreliable; Elrond had originally seemed like a very sensible sort of person, and yet Frodo was beginning to suspect the lord of Rivendell was quite mad. Of course it made sense for an Elf to come along on the quest—it was only fair, after all—but was it necessary for Elrond to choose this one? Surely Glorfindel, or that prince from Mirkwood, or anyone really, would have been a better choice than the quiet dark-haired man Elrond had introduced, inexplicably, as his father.

Father, indeed. Frodo knew his history as well as anyone, and he recognized the name Maglor straightaway. 

“I know who you are, you know,” Frodo told him, the first time they were alone together. It was the night before the company was scheduled to leave, and Frodo felt it was high time he got everything out in the open.

“Well, that’s hardly surprising, considering we were just introduced,” Maglor replied. Even when speaking quietly, his voice had an otherworldly quality Frodo found distinctly unsettling. “I’d go so far as to say I know who you are as well.”

“No, I mean I know who you are. Perhaps you think we don’t learn history in the Shire, but Bilbo’s told me all about the First Age, and I know exactly what you and your family did. Everything.”

“Ah.” Maglor’s expression was unreadable. “Then perhaps you also know that I have spent the last two ages punishing myself for my family’s deeds.”

“By wandering about on the beach and moping?”

“That, and other things as well. Looking after orphans, fighting a few orcs—I haven’t been entirely idle, you know.”

“That’s as may be,” Frodo said skeptically. “But I’d still like to know why you agreed to come on this mission. I know you and Lord Elrond are…family, but it can’t be just as a favor to him. And I find it hard to believe your motives are completely altruistic.”

Maglor leaned back in his chair, tapping his long, elegant fingers together. “The truth, then?”

“I’d appreciate it.”

“The truth, Mr. Baggins, is that I am tired.”

Frodo blinked. “Tired?”

“Indeed. Quite unfathomably exhausted. I’ve spent the last 6,000 years wandering from place to place, never resting, never feeling that I am doing enough to make up for my past. This quest we are going on? This may be my last chance to do something genuinely good.” For a moment, he looked as though he was about to cry. “The truth is, Mr. Baggins, this may be my last chance to find a way home.”

Oddly, Frodo felt a spark of sympathy for this strange creature, separated from his home and family since before the sun and moon had first risen. What would it be like to be away from the Shire for that long? 

Well, he was soon to find out, he supposed.

“I understand that,” he said at last. “But how do I know I can trust you, around something as dangerous as…as what I am carrying?”

Maglor smiled, the first time Frodo had seen him do so. It was a surprisingly nice, though sad, smile. “Mr. Baggins, I threw one of the most valuable objects ever created into the ocean. I think I can manage to help you throw Sauron’s bloody trinket into a mountain.”

–

After much fuss and annoyance, Aragorn and Gimli had been persuaded to hand over their weapons before entering King Theoden’s presence. Maglor, standing behind them, looked nearly as reluctant as his companions had.

“You too, Master Elf,” the guard said. “Disarm yourself, please.”

Obediently, Maglor unhooked his sword belt, tossing it and his twin blades on the table. “There you are. Disarmed.”

“I said all your weapons, sir,” ordered the guard. “Do you think I’m blind?”

With a sigh that sounded like a wave crashing on the shore, Maglor pulled several small knives out of the top of his boots and handed them over. The guard nodded.

“Thank you, sir. Now…”

“Hold on, just a moment. I’m not quite done.” Digging about in his pack, his pockets, and his sleeves, Maglor extracted two small silver whistles, several hair-thin harp strings, something that appeared to be a tuning fork, and an unidentifiable instrument shaped like an hourglass, which he passed to the bewildered guard. “You did say all my weapons.”

“Sir, most of these are musical instruments,” the guard said, frowning. “They are not weapons.”

Maglor looked mildly offended. “Well, not with that attitude.”

–

“My stars,” Maglor said quietly. “Is that what I think it is?”

“A palantir, yes,” said Gandalf, carefully inspecting the dark stone that Wormtongue had thrown out the window. “One of the seven lost seeing-stones, capable of…”

“Yes, yes, Mithrandir, I know perfectly well what a palantir is,” Maglor interrupted. “They’re only a bloody family heirloom. Damned useful, too, when your family is spread out over half the continent and letters take about a year to be delivered. I always did wonder what became of the old things.”

“So it is true,” Gandalf said in awe. “The palantiri were created by Feanor.”

Maglor snorted. “Of course they were. Who else do you think could have had the skill and motivation to make them? Father had seven children to keep track of, you know, and this was really the only sensible way to do it. May I?” He held out a hand, and after a moment’s hesitation Gandalf gave him the stone.

“So this belonged to one of your brothers?” Pippin asked eagerly. “Which one was it?”

“That is just what I am trying to find out.” Maglor turned the stone in his hands and sang a few quick words in an ancient dialect of Quenya (and of those assembled, only Gandalf was able to recognize that they meant “turn on, you dratted thing”). For a moment nothing happened at all, before the stone lit up with a crimson glow and emitted a vaguely exasperated-sounding noise. Maglor smiled with satisfaction as it faded back to black.

“Ah, just as I thought. This one was Caranthir’s,” he said. “He’s been gone for two ages and his palantir is still annoyed about people calling him. And, where is it…ah, just there, you see that crack?” He indicated a hairline fissure barely visible in the stone’s dark surface. “That right there is from when I was visiting Caranthir and we quarrelled, and he threw this at me. Fortunately I ducked out of the way, but I thought it was going to bring down the fortress when it hit the wall. It’s funny, you know, Father created these things to be indestructible but he really didn’t bank on the force of Caranthir’s temper.”

Pippin shook his head. “It’s funny, you know, when Frodo and Bilbo are going on about the First Age one tends to imagine everyone being very solemn and dignified. Not going about chucking things at their brothers.”

Maglor smiled and patted Pippin on the head rather condescendingly. “Clearly, Mr. Took, you have been learning the wrong kind of history.”

–

Frodo’s worries that he would have no one other than Bilbo and Elrond to talk to on the long voyage to Valinor were assuaged as he and the others made their way onto the upper deck and saw who was already there.

“You!” Frodo exclaimed.

“You!” Maglor replied, smiling broadly and looking about a millennium younger (was it possible, Frodo wondered, for Elves to age in reverse?). “You’ll be coming along then, will you? I must say, I am rather on the fence about this journey. The last time I was on a ship was a thoroughly unpleasant experience, but then those were…unusual circumstances. I don’t expect we’ll have nearly as much trouble this time.”

“If we do have any trouble, I am throwing you overboard immediately,” Cirdan grumbled. “Elrond, are you quite certain you have thought this through?”

“Absolutely,” Elrond said firmly. “And if the Valar have any issues with my father returning home after everything he’s helped us accomplish, they can have it out with me.”

Elrond and Cirdan ushered Bilbo down to his cabin, while Frodo remained on the deck, taking an awkward seat beside Maglor. The breeze whipped around them as the ship began to move away from shore, and Frodo suddenly found himself unaccountably nervous.

“Maglor,” he said. “What is Valinor like?”

“Well, you know, I haven’t been there in some time,” Maglor said thoughtfully. “But from what I recall, it is a thoroughly fine place. Pleasant weather, good food, kind people. You and your uncle will be given a hero’s welcome, I can almost guarantee.”

“And you? What kind of welcome will you get?”

“I rather imagine there will be a long line of people waiting to slap me! But I can’t say I mind that so very much. I don’t particularly care what sort of welcome the general public gives me, as long as I can see my family again.” His smile faded slightly as the reality of their destination seemed to sink in. “Frodo, do you think…do you think it will have been enough? Do I have any chance at all of being forgiven?”

“Oh, honestly, Maglor,” Frodo said, rolling his eyes. “You helped lead the armies of Gondor and Rohan against Sauron, and you certainly saved my neck a time or two. If your family isn’t inclined to forgive you, I’ll have words with them myself.”

“You Hobbits,” Maglor laughed. “You certainly are fiercer than your appearance suggests. But there is one person I don’t think you’ll be able to defend me from.”

“Who’s that?”

“My mother.” Maglor shook his head, pushing a few errant curls off his forehead. “She’s going to kill me for being gone so long.”

[arrantsnowdrop]

Opposites Attract - Haldir x. Half-elf reader (fluff/angst)

Request: "Haldir with a short haired kinda a hobo half elf that's wears human clothing? Like she's with the group when they first arrive and the first this she does is push away the arrow and say "that's rather dangerous, ya know." And bam he's in love. Idk just something goody." / "Would you take a request for some hurt/comfort with Haldir/reader? Ty!"

Tags: @militarybratinpink @danu-ixchel

Warnings: around 2,180 words. Angst (this is set just after when Gandalf dies in the movie, so the reader is quite upset about that)

A/N: I am so sorry this took me like years to get to writing but I had fifteen separate ideas of how to go about each of these requests before coming up with what I wrote below. Still, this was a blast to write! Translations for the elvish are a the bottom. I hope y'all enjoy it, and thank you for reading! :)

She was an oddity among elves, a defiant nonconformist who, to any onlooker, appeared to strive to break the many rules and expectations of the society she lived in. Perhaps it was because of her eccentric clothing, or her quirky attitude, or even her posture, which was incredible casual compared to the formal way her fellow elves carried themselves.

Most of the other elves in Rivendell attributed both her slouching and demeanor to her mother, a human who, by the popular opinion, had provided her with all the necessary traits to be the perfect rebel. Still, (y/n) was on of the most positive and compassionate beings in Elrond’s realm, and all who met her found themselves drawn to her easygoing yet overly caring personality.

Perhaps her carefree nature was what had taken the other members of the fellowship by surprise. Aragorn and Gandalf knew her quite well, but the others were slightly shocked to see her at Elrond’s council - sitting cross-legged atop her chair in a pair of long, flowing trousers and a blousey top.

“You must be the most interesting elf I’ve ever met,” Gimli had said to her after the fateful meeting. (Y/n) laughed, the sound ringing throughout the halls of Rivendell she had been showing him around.

“And why is that, master dwarf?”

“All the others are too tall and stiff for my liking!”

It was very uniqueness that gave her the urge to volunteer for the seemingly impossible task of delivering the One Ring to Mordor. She had always been thoroughly disheartened by the attitudes of her fellow elves, disinterested and uncaring about the issues that plagued the men of Middle Earth. She also knew this would be one of her last chances to do something important, seeing as Elrond was so eager to rush everyone off to the Undying Lands. (Y/n) could not just leave without doing something to help.

The hobbits, especially Merry and Pippin, has quickly taken a liking to her, with Boromir and Gimli quickly following suit. They made a boisterous group, ceaselessly chatting and sparring into the late hours of the night. Legolas had initially been a little confused by her, but even he soon found himself enchanted with her wholeheartedly. They all thought her an enjoyable companion.

And although she wasn't all that serious, they quickly recognized her profound skill and intelligence. Save for Aragorn, her sparring skills were unmatched, and Boromir quickly found that what she lacked in brute strength, she made up for in speed and stamina. Her vast knowledge of languages and medicine impressed both Aragorn and Gimli, and even Sam was overjoyed at her cooking ability.

It was Moria that had almost consumed that happiness she seemed to radiate. She had advised against going into the mines, Elrond’s library having taught her all about the dangers. But she had not counted on how depressing it would be under the ground. Sure, the halls of the dwarves were absolutely magnificent, but when the goblins had attacked, she realized she might die without ever seeing the sky again.

Then Gandalf died, dragged down into the earth by a Balrog. He would never see the sun or the stars or the trees again, just as (Y/n) had feared for herself. Aragorn told her Boromir had dragged her up the staircase and out of the mountain, but she honestly could not remember that. All she could recall was immense sorrow as she cried, clutching Merry and Pippin tightly and promising that she would never let anything happen to them ever.

“Legolas, get them up,” she heard Aragorn say. She breathed out shakily, pushing herself up from the ground.

“Give them a moment, for pity’s sake,” Boromir said, watching as (Y/n) slowly eased the younger two hobbits to their feet.

“By nightfall these hills will be swarming with Orcs, we must reach the woods of Lothlorien…”

(Y/n) had been to Lothlorien several times with Elrond and Arwen. She vividly remembered the luminescent forest, the stunning palace of Galadriel and Celeborn.

“Have you been to Lothlorien, (Y/n)?” Merry asked softly. She looked down at him, his red eyes still puffy from crying.

“Yes,” she said, gazing into the distance where the edge of the forest was just coming into view. “It is beautiful, Merry.”

“Like the Shire?” he asked inquisitively.

“No, in more of an ethereal way. It looks like the sky at night, but the stars aren’t so far away.”

They reached the forest several hours later, and (Y/n) watched as the hobbits were awed by Lothlorien’s beauty. She grinned, remembering how the flora had blown her away the first time she had visited.

“Stay close, young hobbits,” Gimli stated gruffly, “they say a Sorceress lives in these woods.”

Pippin looked back at (Y/n) with a shocked expression on his face. She laughed at his wide eyes, shaking her head reassuringly. Galadriel, while just as powerful as Gimli was saying, was no witch.

“Well, here’s one dwarf she won’t ensnare so easily! I have the eyes of a hawk and the ears of a fox!”

As if on cue, she felt something rather sharp digging into your neck. She glanced to her left, rolling her eyes at the elf who was pointing his bow at her. She grabbed the arrow swiftly, pushing it away.

“That’s rather dangerous, don’t you think? You could seriously injure someone with that,” (Y/n) sassed before stalking off to yell at the elves threatening Merry and Pippin.

Haldir stood there with his mouth slightly agape. He’d never been disrespected so blatantly before, but that wasn’t what had shocked him. He’d heard of (Y/n), even seen her on her visits to Lady Galadriel, but had never met her in person.

She was feisty and tenacious, and he watched with a dumb grin on his face as she pushed a group of young elves away from two hobbits and a dwarf.

“Want to tell me why you’re threatening someone less than half your size? You can’t? Well isn’t that interesting,” she scoffed while shepherding the halflings towards Aragorn and Legolas.

“Mae govannen, Legolas Thranduilion,” Haldir said politely, walking over to the group and the other elves ushered them up into the trees. He watched out of the corner of his eye as (Y/n) giggled at some remark the dwarf had made about dwarves not belonging in trees.

He was surprised by how much he longed to be the one making her laugh.

“Govannas vén gwennen le, Haldir o Lórien,” Legolas replied curtly.

“Aragorn in Dúnedain, istanenen le ammen,” Haldir said to Aragorn. He finally understood the human saying about cutting through the tension with a knife; the glares he was receiving from several members of the fellowship were beginning to make him a little uneasy.

“So much for the legendary courtesy of the Elves!” the dwarf grumbled. “Speak words we can also understand!”

“We have not had dealing with the dwarves since the dark days,” Haldir chided.

“And do you know what this dwarf says to that?”

“Gimli, please-” (Y/n) tried to interrupt, but it was no use.

“Ishkhaqwi ai durugnul!”

(Y/n) gasped and slapped Gimli on the shoulder. Haldir almost smiled as he watched the dwarf wince.

“That,” (Y/n) hissed, “was not so courteous.” She looked up at Haldir apologetically.

“You bring great evil with you,” Haldir said softly, surveying the rest of the fellowship. “You can go no further!”

The hobbits collectively gasped at both Haldir’s declaration and Gimli’s immediate reaction, which included several nasty expletives.

“Calm down, calm down,” (Y/n) grumbled, pushing them towards a nearby branch for them to sit and rest on.

“This might take a while,” she said, nodding her head towards where Legolas and Aragorn were already intensely arguing with Haldir.

“How long?” Pippin inquired.

“Yea, we’re hungry, miss,” Merry added.

“I have no clue, but I’ll try to figure that out. Watch him,” she said, pointing towards Gimli, who had already started arguing with one of the elven guards. The hobbits nodded quickly.

“Boe ammen veriad lín. Andelu i ven,” Aragorn was insisting. Haldir was shaking his head, muttering something about how unsafe the situation was.

“Are you saying your guard isn’t capable of keeping us safe?” (Y/n) retorted, causing Legolas to stifle a chuckle.

“That not what I said,” Haldir stated pointedly.

“Well that’s what it seemed like you were implying, but do keep going. You were arguing so well.”

“I must admit, I was not expecting you to be so rambunctious, Lady (Y/n),” Haldir said, a teasing glint in his eyes. (Y/n) grinned.

“I aim to surprise, Haldir. Now please, your escort to Lady Galadriel would be much appreciated, the road is very dangerous.” He paused for a moment, clearly weighing his options.

“You will follow me,” he declared finally, turning from the fellowship and towards Caras Galadhon, where Galadriel and Celeborn lived.

“How did you do that?” Legolas asked incredulously as she smirked.

“I have my ways,” she teased, moving to follow the blonde elf.

Their meeting with Galadriel had been eventful to say the least. (Y/n) was well aware of her habit of getting inside other’s heads, and was not the least bit shocked to hear Galadriel offering her advice whilst talking to the fellowship at the same time.

“Do not fear, (Y/n),” she had said, “Gandalf’s death will not be in vain.”

And yet (Y/n) had not had the time she needed to mourn the loss of someone she had considered a true friend. She had known Gandalf long before Thorin’s company had visited the last homely house.

She strayed from the group afterwards, reminiscing on the last time she had been in Caras Galadhon. Elrond had departed from Rivendell slightly earlier than planned at Galadriel’s request, and Gandalf had escorted her and Arwen himself.

(Y/n) remembered exploring Galadriel’s library with Gandalf, pouring over the maps and ancient writings. It was hard to believe he was gone. She sat down on a nearby bench and began to cry quietly.

“Lady (Y/n), are you alright?”

She jumped at the sudden but concerned voice, looking up to see Haldir looking at her with empathy and worry laced across his face.

“I’m fine, sorry to disturb you,” she said shakily, quickly wiping the tears off of her face.

“I heard about Gandalf, I assume that’s why you’re crying,” he said. She nodded slowly, eyes filling with tears once again.

“I’m truly sorry, (Y/n). I know that does little to ease the pain, but I am,” he said softly, closing the distance between them and wrapping her in a loose but endearing hug. She laughed slightly as she buried her face in his tunic.

“I thought elves were uncomfortable with such profound acts of affection,” she said sarcastically.

“We are,” Haldir said thoughtfully, “but I remembered you used to hug many of the elves here anyways when you visited. It was quite funny when you embraced Lord Celeborn, actually.” She grinned at the memory.

“I thought this might make you feel better,” he continued, slowly rubbing circles into the small of her back with his thumb.

“I didn’t know you had been there, Haldir.”

“I was always there, but I could never bring myself to properly introduce myself. You were a bit intimidating, I’ll have to admit.”

“Oh, did I make you nervous, Haldir?” (Y/n) teased. He chucked and nodded.

“I’d hate to stop hugging you, but you really must consider getting some sleep,” he said. She groaned.

“You sound like Aragorn,” she huffed, looking up at him with begrudgingly.

“How much sleep have you gotten on this journey?” he asked. She bit her lip and avoided his gaze, already knowing he wouldn’t have approved of her answer.

“You need rest,” he said softly, pulling away slowly and grabbing her hand. (Y/n) yawned into her hand, nodding reluctantly.

“I suppose a little bit of sleep wouldn’t hurt,” she replied meekly. Haldir laughed.

“It wouldn’t hurt one bit.”

They slowly made their way back to where the rest of the fellowship was sleeping. She smiled seeing that all her friends were accounted for, sleeping in their beds.

“Thank you,” she murmured, turning to Haldir and smiling.

“It was no problem, (Y/n),” he whispered, leaning down to give her a kiss on the cheek. She giggled softly, feeling her face begin to heat up.

“I much enjoy spending time with you,” he continued. “If you would like to, I was wondering if we could meet again tomorrow?” She smiled at his tenderness.

“I’m sure Aragorn wouldn’t mind spending one more day here,” she said thoughtfully.

“Then I’ll see you tomorrow?” he asked hopefully.

“Of course,” (Y/n) replied, smiling up at him. She could see the look of endearment on his face in the pale light of Lothlórien.

“Good night,” she said, letting go of his hand and making her way over to the cot she had been given. She climbed in, casting the blonde elf one more smile as she wrapped the blankets around her.

(Y/n) smiled as she watched him slowly turn around and walk away, finally closing her eyes to sleep.

..........

Translations:

Mae govannen, Legolas Thranduilion-Welcome Legolas, son of Thranduil.

Govannas vén gwennen le, Haldir o Lórien-Our fellowship stands in your debt, Haldir of Lórien

Aragorn in Dúnedain, istanenen le ammen-Aragorn of the Dúnedain, you are known to us

Ishkhaqwi ai durugnul-I spit upon your grave

Boe ammen veriad lín. Andelu i ven-We need your protection. The road is fell