#i bet aragorn did that for a long time after he found out

[gossip-girl-of-middleearth]

She’s the Man (Fellowship x Disguised as Boy! Reader)

Requested by anon

Warnings: mentions of domestic/sexual assault, nudity, awkward public bathing. Might trigger a gender identity crisis in some of you folks, but don’t worry, join the club—we’re getting jackets made.

Synopsis: after having run away from your noble family and horrid husband, you cut your hair short and start dressing like a boy, presenting yourself as one throughout all of Middle-earth. This becomes hard, though, as you start travelling with the Fellowship, where they start to suspect something is up with their young “boy” comrade.

Restrictions, restrictions, restrictions—that’s all you’ve ever known. You first noticed the tight chains on your soul when you were five, when your mother forbade you from playing with the local stable-hands.

You next noticed it when you were ten, being forced to wear tight corsets to shape your body before it even began blooming.

The final nail in the coffin, however, was when you turned fifteen, and were married off to a local, and quite old tradesman.

Though he dealt in silken fabrics, he was anything but smooth or soft. The night of your wedding was painful in all regards, for at fifteen you weren’t even sure if you were allowed to remove the tight corset during the act.

Five years more of total misery accompanied you, as you were forced to attend noble banquets and celebrations.

You encountered a wide range of people, from the likes of Denethor and his two sons, to the sickly Rohan King. Of course, they did not encounter you, for you were not allowed to speak unless spoken to, which was rare.

The two sons of Denethor and King Théoden’s own son, Théodred, as well as his two cousins, Eowyn and Eomer, were the only ones to initiate conversation with you.

You quickly realized they were better-spirited than their parents, but didn’t have the chance to explore more. A tight grip on your wrist from your husband silenced you, as he tore you away from the circle of new acquaintances quickly.

That night, life in your guestroom with your husband was a living hell, as he reminded you whom exactly you belonged to.

That was the night you snapped.

Bruised and sore, you wept into your sheets. Your husband had long-gone to drink more wine at the party, leaving his young wife alone in a state of mess.

It was around the third hour of crying that you studied the tapestry on the wall above your bed. With hair wettened by your tears clinging to your puffy cheeks, you ran your reddened eyes along the art.

It depicted a strong soldier atop a horse, riding into battle. A sword was drawn, and his short hair flowing in the wind behind him.

Subconsciously, you reached up to your own hair, long in length—your husband’s desire—and pulled on it.

As mounted in every room, two swords crossed each other over a shield, making a pretty decoration above the mantle.

Looking between the bruises inside your thighs, the tapestry and the sword, your jaw quickly set. Your eyes hardened, as you threw the sheets off your frame and stalked towards the mantle.

Glancing over your shoulder, you ensured no one was entering your room. With an emotional mind made up, you removed both swords from the shield.

Hastily, you used one to bar the door shut, and walked to the centre of the room with the other. With no candlelight around, you knelt on the fur rug under a square beam of moonlight, which poured in through the bedroom windows.

You looked at your reflection in the sword, and studied the state of your misery. Despising your parents, your husband and your life, you quickly put the sword to your hair.

With only a second to build the courage, you sliced all long locks from your head, springing forward a boyish look—instantly freeing yourself from your lifelong chains.

Breathing heavily in shock, you looked at the clump of hair on the floor, and picked it up. One hand ran through your now very short locks, and the other fingered the cut clump.

However, shocked breaths soon turned into joyous laughter, as your chest swelled with pride and your eyes watered.

Standing up swiftly, you ran towards the bathroom and opened the drawers. Finding a pair of scissors, you got to work and began styling your hair further.

Soon, you were left looking like a boy, by Middle-earth’s human standards. Your hair barely scraped the nape of your neck at the back, and in front, you had a fringe swooping to one side.

Grinning brightly, and now on a roll, you ran back to the mantle. Opening your husband’s drawers, you quickly discarded your nightgown and slipped his tunic on.

Shrugging the loose fit over your form, you secured it with a thick brown belt, trousers and used your own boots.

Studying yourself in the mirror, you realized this must be how you would’ve looked if born a boy, and you were surprised within yourself over liking it.

Throwing your clump of cut hair into the fire, you soon began tying sheets together. That night, you escaped down the window and fled the city atop a stolen horse, riding towards your new life.

Five years passed by, and you had been on the run ever since. Life was never easy for you, but at least now you were calling the shots.

You had taken to your new life as a boy, like a duck to water, presenting yourself as the rather quiet and distant “Arlo”.

You kept your head down and worked hard wherever you went, whether as a blacksmith’s apprentice, baker’s boy or stablehand.

Your most favourite part of the road, however, was learning to use a sword. With a book stolen from a library and five years’ worth of nights to practice, you had become quite skilled. The spite drove you forward.

You vowed no one would ever best you in combat again, pushing you harder every day. Your best friend and only companion was your horse, Paxton, and together the two of you explored Middle-earth to its very ends.

Along your travels, you had taken to competing in swordfight competitions, where you earned most of your cash. Swindling them, you presented yourself as a weak and frail boy, but in the end ultimately beat them all.

You gained a reputation quickly, and were slightly infamous for your swordsman skills, despite being so small.

It was this reputation that led you to Elrond’s secret council in Rivendell.

Your eyes had gone wide in alarm upon entering the petal-strewn area—where the council was set to be held—for Boromir, one of Denethor’s sons, was there.

You almost turned and ran, but he caught your eye quickly. You didn’t know whether or not to avoid his gaze, but that would bring about suspicion.

He instead smiled warmly at you, and thought nothing of your appearance. You nodded back tightly, and took your seat far away from him.

You ended up sitting next to an elf, for you knew their gender worked differently from yours. He himself looked a little girlish, so you believed he’d think nothing of your appearance.

He studied you with a side-glance as you sat down, and nodded curtly. You clenched your jaw and nodded back, moving your eyes forwards again.

You discreetly let out a sigh of relief, as you found the coast to be clear. No one figured you to be a girl.

Soon, Elrond joined the council. You felt your breath hitch in your throat, as you realized his puzzled eyes lingered on you a little too long.

Worried he’d rat you out, you looked away. Knitting his brows, Elrond slowly tore his eyes away from you, and began the council.

Long story-short, you had been invited to participate on a dangerous quest, all food and expenses paid for. Unable to pass up such a good opportunity for you and your horse, you reluctantly agreed, offering your sword to the hobbit sworn to carrying Sauron’s ring.

The first few nights you kept to yourself, as an awkward air befell the Fellowship—none really knowing each other nor knowing how to interact.

Very quickly, cliques formed.

The hobbits kept to each other in a pack, Gandalf joining them. Aragorn and Legolas joined forces, and Boromir, Gimli and yourself found ranks in solitude.

However, this was not to last forever.

Boromir had attempted many times to strike up conversation with you, as besides Aragorn, you were the only other “man” there.

You kept it short and courteous, but made it apparent very quickly to everyone there that you were in no position to begin friendships. This was a job to you—nothing more, nothing less.

That still did not stop anyone from trying, though. After Boromir, Gimli was next. The topic of the night around the campfire was “women”, as they all discussed their perfect partner.

The conversation divided the group in half, over those choosing to go more physical in nature a direction, and the other half preferring emotions.

Gimli laughed heartily and elbowed you in the shoulder. “Forget this lot, eh? I bet you and I are exactly alike, laddie! Thick thighs and body hair all over! Am I right?”

Laughing nervously, you rubbed at the back of your neck. “Uh…not really…”

He blinked up at you in surprise for a moment, before shrugging his shoulders and pressing on in the conversation. Legolas studied you from across the fire, and made a mental note of your words.

Later on, when you were all setting up your rugs, Legolas approached you. He crouched down by your side and began helping to unroll your pack.

You recoiled from him slightly, and stared up in alarm. He looked back down at you briefly with a tight-lipped smile, and spoke.

“I agree with you from earlier,” he said. “I believe partnership should be about romance and emotions, not physical acts. How about you, mellon nin? Have a lady waiting back at home for you?”

You sputtered up at the prince, before averting your eyes and rolling your pack out faster. “No, I…uh, that’s not really my area…”

Legolas knitted his brows for a moment in confusion, before his lips parted in sudden understanding.

“Oh. Oh! Well, um…do you have a gentleman waiting back at home for you, then?”

Snapping your eyes up at him once more, you flushed.

“No! No! I, look—I’m really kinda tired.” You made a show of yawning loudly. “And I think I just wanna get some rest. I’ll see you in the morning, though…brother?”

Legolas blinked down at you a few times, before speaking and rising to his legs. “Oh! Uh, sure…that’s no hassle. Rest well…brother?”

“Will do,” you drew out, laying down.

He threw a glance over his shoulder at you, before walking away. He caught Aragorn’s eye as he walked past, with the ranger sat there puffing away on his pipe.

They both tightened their lips, looked away and raised their brows, figuring you were just a moody boy.

The most awkward situation of all, however, came a few weeks later. Having managed to sneak away from the Fellowship, you found a nice river, of which you could bathe in.

Paxton followed suit, keeping your towel wrapped over his saddle. He snorted in worry as you began to undress, revealing your body to the running river.

“It’s fine,” you laughed, girlishly. Your voice had returned to its normal pitch, for the first time in a long time. “Just because I’m pretending to be a boy as I travel with them, doesn’t mean I have to smell like one!”

Paxton snorted, and you knew he was telling you to hurry.

“All right, all right,” you laughed again, stepping into the water. You hugged your chest as you dipped below, submerging yourself fully.

Rising again, you exhaled a sigh of relief, and began washing the grime from your hair and face.

You were only in there for so long, however, for soon boyish laughter came from up the forested incline.

“Out of the way!” Pippin called, stripping off his clothes.

“No! You move!” Merry shouted back, also stripping down.

Behind them both, was the rest of the entire Fellowship, save for Gandalf.

Your eyes grew wide in alarm, as you watched them all meet the river’s bank. They then began undressing—Aragorn, Boromir, Gimli, Legolas and the hobbits included.

Soon, they each all jumped into the water, splashing one another and laughing loudly. You found a large boulder within the river nearby, and swam behind it.

Peeking out from the side, you watched them all swim closer in a group to where you were. They began cleaning themselves, and soon just started to wade around—relishing in the cool feeling.

However, as you tried to swim away discreetly, Legolas’ elven ears caught you. He narrowed his eyes, and began swimming over to your rock.

Knowing you would be caught if you tried to flee, you pressed your back firm against the rock, lapping up against it.

Legolas was now upon you, and looked around the corner to find what was behind it. Once he saw it was only you, he beamed brightly.

Rising up out of the water, he folded his arms over the rock and leaned over, looking down at you.

You tried to not let your eyes drift or slip, as you stared back up at him. However, mistakes were made (but clearly not on his parents’ behalf).

“Hello, Arlo!” he announced merrily. “We didn’t know you were also in here.”

Upon hearing your name, the rest of the Fellowship waved you over, asking you to join them.

You chuckled nervously and began swimming backwards and away, speaking as you did so. “Oh, no…that’s quite all right! I, uh…just remembered I actually have something to do—”

“Oh, no! Don’t be like that!” Boromir chastised. He grabbed your wrist gently and reeled you back in towards him and Legolas.

Your shoulders went rigid, as you nearly brushed up against their bare bodies.

Soon, the hobbits, Gimli and Aragorn swam over to you, and you were more thankful now for the darkness of night than you had ever been.

Though, with one slither of moonlight in the right spot, you’d soon be exposed.

“Please don’t leave on our behalf, Arlo,” Aragorn encouraged, placing a hand on your wet shoulder. “It is good for team morale to bond like this. Besides, we’re all men here.”

“Some more than others!” Gimli announced. You looked up in the direction of his voice, and immediately covered your eyes.  

Gimli was stood with his hands on his hips, proudly naked atop your boulder.

“I am the king of this rock!” he announced. “Any competitors who’d like to have a go at pushing me off?”

“Please,” Legolas rolled his eyes, before he, too, swam over to the boulder and climbed atop it. “This will be the easiest fight of my life.”

Catching more than you wanted to see, you made a squeal of rejection, before forcibly pushing your way through the group and heading towards the bank.

Paxton met you quickly, and you swiftly wrapped the towel over your shoulders like a cloak, as to not make it obvious what you were covering, but doing so nonetheless.

“I’m sorry,” you said to them, “but I truly do have something else to do…literally anything else. I’ll see you all back at camp.”

They watched as you left in a hurry, and shared glances with one another. Thinking nothing of it, besides your usual mood, they shrugged and returned to what they were doing.

This continued on for quite some time, throughout the entire Fellowship journey. Though, you never again attempted to bathe with them all around.

Fortunately, your travels soon took you out of the woods, and into the cities. Many fights had passed your small group, smaller now than before, by.

The most recent of battles saw many great feats—the “Battle of the Pelennor Fields” it was called.

In this battle, you had fought formidably. However, the true victory for women that day went to Eowyn. She had removed her helmet in the middle of the fight, pronounced she was “not a man”, like you had wanted to do so many times, and slayed the Witch-king of Angmar.

You were inspired greatly, but also so furious at yourself. You were also slightly jealous over the attention she got.

“What a brave woman,” Gimli would say.

“I’ve never met a woman so bold,” Merry added on.

“Truly remarkable,” Legolas agreed.

The six of you were sat in a stone courtyard together, camping out in the aftermath of the fight. Your jaw was rigid with fury, as you listened to them praise Eowyn over something you had been doing for the past few months.

Rolling your eyes, and making a show of turning over in your sleeping bag harshly, you quickly gained the Fellowship’s attention.

“Oh, and what is your problem, laddie?” Gimli snarked.

“Upset you were outshined by a girl?” Legolas taunted as well.

“You’re not that misogynistic, are you?” Merry chortled.

Aragorn glanced between your turned back and the laughing boys, before taking his own turn at scolding you.

“Arlo, Eowyn was a great asset today, and we are guests in her company. I will not see you sulking towards her remarkable feats.”

You glared at him over your shoulder, before huffing and returning to sleeping on your side. Your arms were folded over your chest, and your body burning in jealous rage.

“Gosh, what is the matter with you?” Legolas asked next, truly fed up with your attitude. “Why are you always in a bad mood?”

“Wouldn’t have taken you for a misogynist either,” Gimli remarked, smacking his gums as he ate a chicken leg.

You stayed on your side with your back turned to them for a few moments, glaring at the wall. However, the rage in your chest soon gave way to a lump in your throat, as you soon felt your secret burst within you.

“I’m not a misogynist…” you spoke up.

“Poppycock,” Gimli called you out.

Sighing, you sat up and looked at them to your side. “I’m not a misogynist, because…I’m not even a boy.”

Silence echoed around the courtyard, as your travel companions blinked back at you.

“What?” Pippin asked, squinting his eyes. “What do you mean you’re ‘not a boy’?”

Groaning through another sigh, and rolling your head, you pressed on. “I mean I’m NOT a boy! I’m a girl, for Eru’s sake…I’ve just been…presenting myself as one, for…reasons.”

“What reason could you possibly have to lie about something like that?” Legolas asked, not entirely believing you.

Feeling the urge to cry rising within you, you inhaled a deep breath and answered. “Nothing you men would understand.”

“I’m sorry,” Merry laughed, “but I don’t believe you at all. There’s no way you’re a girl.”

Glaring at him, you knew his words to be true. Knowing how to prove you were indeed a girl, you reached into your loose tunic, and began unwrapping the bind around your chest.

Pulling it out, you threw it down in front of the now gaping group. Without a shred of chivalry, still disbelieving you to be a girl at all, they glanced between the fabric and your chest, which indeed proved your gender.

“I don’t believe it…” Pippin whispered, staring with wide eyes.

In fact, they all did. With six pairs of male eyes on your chest, you felt very vulnerable and covered yourself.

This seemed to jolt them back to their senses, as they coughed uncomfortably and looked away.

The only one still looking into your eyes, was Aragorn. “Why did you feel the need to lie, my lady?”

Being called a “lady” for the first time in five years opened up a floodgate of emotions, as you wept into your hand.

“Yep, definitely a girl,” Merry rolled his eyes. A swift punched to his arm from Legolas silenced him.

Now knowing exactly how to deal with you, Aragorn stood up and crouched before you. He placed a tentative hand on your shoulder, and encouraged the other boys to come forwards, until they were sat all around you in a comforting circle.

“What is your real name, young maiden?” Aragorn asked softly.

Still sniffling into your hand, and bearing a downcast head, you spoke up in a barely audible voice.

“Y/n…” you revealed.

“What a beautiful name, Y/n,” he smiled warmly.

Like a turn of the tides, the boys all around took you under their wing, as if you were their own little sister. Everything about you now made sense, and they felt at ease with you instantly.

And, surprisingly, you found the same about them, regarding yourself. You didn’t at all feel threatened by their presence, but instead protected.

“I’m sorry,” you wept, shaking your head. “I had no choice, they made me marry him, and I-I couldn’t stay there, and then I had to make money so I ran with the lie and—”

They shushed your incoherent crying quickly, and rubbed at both your knees, back and shoulders comfortingly.  

They gained more information about your previous life in those few seconds than they had before in the last few months. They didn’t need to know anymore, nor wanted to, from the sounds of it all.

“Please don’t kick me out of the Fellowship…” you sniffled.

“Why would we do that?” Gimli laughed. “We now have TWO remarkable women in our ranks! Eowyn AND Y/n!

“A great win for us, indeed!” Legolas agreed brightly.

A smile broke through your tears, as they shook you softly and commended your swordswoman skills excitedly.

This carried on for a few moments, before you spoke up again, now smiling around at them through almost dried tears.

“So…you don’t mind about me lying? Or being a…woman?”

They shook their heads and returned your smile. “Not at all, lassie.”

Before the conversation could progress, however, Legolas suddenly recalled something.

“WAIT!” he gasped loudly, thinking back to the river. “THAT MEANS YOU SAW ALL OUR—”

“Let’s agree to never speak of it again, okay?”

“Aye, never again…sister.”

[bonjour-rainycity]

Late in the Night | Part Four

Previous part

Prompt: Friends have a bet how long it will take the ship to get together (Content Challenge Day 7)

Pairing: Legolas x Female Reader

Rating: PG-13

Word count: 1602

Warnings: None

Challenge participants: @game-ofthe-company @grunid @themerriweathermage @errruvande @the-reformed-ringwraith @awkwardkindatries

^^ Hey! If I haven't commented on your post(s) yet, it just means I haven't gotten the chance to read them. School has been ramping up, but as I have free moments, I'll be going back and looking at all your challenge posts <3

A/n: You guys...IT'S THE LAST PROMPT OF THE CONTENT CHALLENGE! What?! Thank you so much to everyone who participated and interacted with our posts. I had such a blast creating this past week and getting to know each and every one of you. I think it would be fun to do something like this again in the future, so let me know if you would like to be involved in planning/get updates! 

As always, I encourage you to check out the accounts tagged above and our masterlists! You can find the challenge masterlist here and my personal masterlist here. Okay, enjoy :)

Aragorn waits, keeping an eye on the trees.

The minute his friends from the eastern inn arrive, they will leave town.

He had a pleasant night — private room, hot bath, well-prepared meals — but is ready to get back on their journey. For all he knows, the brief rest he allowed them could have already cost them vital time.

That thought causes him to pace.

“Calm yourself, dear friend, they will be along shortly,” Gandalf councils.

Aragorn tries to heed the wise wizard’s advice. Sure enough, he soon hears the light sounds of feet crushing grass and twigs, and knows they are close.

The four of them break into sight at roughly the same time, and Aragorn notices two things:

One, Legolas and Y/n refuse to look at each other.

Two, Gimli wears a grin bright enough to rival the sun.

Aragorn knows he must speak with the dwarf as soon as possible.

Something has happened.

Merry, who doesn’t get enough credit for his observation skills, notices the oddities too, and elbows Pippin in the side. Their eyes grow wide, and it takes everything in them not to shout guesses as to what this means.

It is a good while before Aragorn, Pippin, Merry, and Gimli have a chance to convene and discuss the new development. All four of them, though of course dedicated to the task at hand, desperately want a resolution to their ongoing bet.

It had started innocently enough.

Merry made an off-hand comment about how well Legolas and Y/n seem to get along. Gimli noticed the lass was a clumsier fighter when Legolas was watching. Aragorn realized his friend seemed nervous around the human woman. Pippin saw how each of them smiled brighter when the other was near.

Somehow or other, the four of them had put together their observations, and the rest is history.

The bet was born.

Each of them had put down fifteen coins and a deadline, losing the coins if Legolas and Y/n did not become a couple by the deadline, and winning coins if they did. Knowing his friend’s shy nature well, Aragorn had given the two the lengthiest allowance — six months. Pippin and Merry recognized the bold nature of humans, and guessed it would only take four months for Y/n to speak her mind and Legolas to reciprocate. Gimli, on the other hand, thought the two were already head-over-heels for each other and wouldn’t be able to keep quiet about it, and had given them only a month and a half.

Each participant, knowing his deadline was drawing nearer, had taken steps to push the two in the right direction.

The hobbit friends moved Legolas’ and Y/n’s bedrolls closer when they weren’t looking.

Aragorn put them on watch together. A lot. To the point where he actually felt bad about the bags under Y/n’s eyes.

But Gimli, perhaps, had been the boldest of them all, and proudly tells his friends so the moment they are alone much later that evening.

“Quickly, they are suspicious why it took four of us to gather firewood and herbs,” Aragorn mutters, darting a quick glance in the direction of camp.

“Yes, just get on with it,” Pippin squeaks, then throws a hand over his mouth, knowing he might alert Legolas with his volume.

“Alright, listen up lads.” Gimli grins and proudly tells his tale. “Boromir and I got to the inn first, as planned, and the innkeeper asked how many were in our party. I said two, and the innkeeper made a comment how it was good we didn’t have more folk waiting outside, as his inn was almost full. Well, that got me thinkin’, so I inquired how many more rooms were available. The innkeeper said two, not including the ones Boromir and I purchased. So I whipped out my velvet pouch and paid for another room, fibbin’ a bit and saying I might have a lady friend visiting and wasn’t sure if she would want to sleep in my room or not after our activities.” He wiggles his eyebrows in response to the stunned looks of his friend.

Aragorn shakes his head slowly, a bemused smile setting in his lips. “So you paid for an extra room just to force Legolas and Y/n into sharing?”

“Right you are,” Gimli grins, placing his fists on his hips. “It wasna even that expensive — I’ll make it back three times over, now that I’ve won this thing.”

“Ah, ah, ah, hold on,” Merry holds up a hand, halting Gimli’s gloat. “You can’t prove they did or said anything to start a courtship, so you haven’t won!”

“They won’t even look at each other and the elf’s as red as a strawberry, of course something happened,” Gimli practically shouts.

Aragorn, reliably a voice of reason, intervenes. “We shall have to inquire then, but be smart about it. We do not want to jeopardize their potential courtship with our game.”

The companions agree, then quickly turn to the forest, gathering firewood and herbs to supplement Sam’s soup and their cover story.

{***}

Back at camp, Legolas sits on a low tree branch, keeping watch over all his friends.

But mostly Y/n.

He cannot pull his eyes from her face. She sits on a rock, staring into the fire, absently cleaning the mud from her boots. Without permission, his mind goes back to the way he held her this morning, tucked against his chest, her leg wrapped around his. It was wildly improper, and he should be ashamed of himself.

But he doesn’t feel ashamed. Because the way they woke up this morning didn’t feel improper, it felt natural. With all his heart, Legolas wants to wake up like that every morning — his favorite person kept safely against his side. He wants to guard her and give her a wonderful life and bring her home and have his people adore her, too.

Legolas’ resolve hardens, because he knows he can no longer keep this to himself. Y/n has a right to know how he feels, because it affects her too.

He pushes himself from the branch, landing on the ground in silence. With four long strides, he stops beside her, reaching down a hand. “Will you talk with me?”

She looks up at him, nerves like she’s never felt before erupting within her. But she gathers her courage, forces what she hopes is a smile, and takes Legolas’ hand.

She wonders what he’ll say.

All day, she had been lost in embarrassment. Somehow in the night, she’d thrown her leg over his and practically attached herself to his chest — who does that?! And he’d said nothing when they woke up, only got up and went about his routine like normal.

So obviously, he doesn’t feel anything for her.

And that’s what this conversation has to be about.

Briefly, though, she allows herself to remember what it felt like to be in his embrace, and knows that she will cherish that feeling forever.

The warmth of his hand in hers helps her hold on to that memory and, to her surprise, when they reach a secluded spot, he does not let go. No, he takes her other hand in his, clutching both tightly.

Legolas nearly shakes with nerves, and he wonders if she can tell? Does she know how he feels like he might be sick? Oh, he has never felt anxiety like this before, and desperately wishes for it to be gone.

So he wastes no time in putting himself out of his misery.

“I want to be with you.”

Y/n blinks. Surely she can’t have heard him correctly? “What?”

Legolas sighs — her reaction gives him no indication how she feels either way. He bolsters his courage, and tries again. “I feel affection for each member of this Fellowship. But whereas I love the others as if they were my kin, I am unable to deny that how I love you is different. Elves live long lives and thus take matters of the heart very seriously. And, well,” he shrugs, all eloquence leaving him the moment he sees the shy, hopeful smile spread across her lips. “My heart is with you.”

Y/n can hardly believe her ears. She thought that he didn’t…that there was no chance of…but rather than dwell on all her miscalculations, or the myriad of dangers that haunt their future, she decides to just enjoy the moment. She throws her arms around Legolas’ neck, and he grips her tightly against him.

She turns her cheek to rest on his shoulder, unable to contain her grin. “You hold mine as well. I love you, Legolas.”

He pulls back only to rest his forehead against hers, head swimming from the joy of her acceptance and at being this close to her. “And I love you.” She lets out a giddy laugh and he closes his eyes, soaking in the sound. But then he focuses again, for there is something important he still must ask. “Will you accept my offer of courtship?”

Y/n can’t help herself from bumping her nose against his affectionately, and it feels so wonderful, so free to be with him this way. She has no desire for her future to continue without him, and so, her answer is found easily. “Of course.”

Relief settles in Legolas’ bones, the nerves finally leaving him and being replaced with happiness.

Just as their lips meet, the four friends break through the tree-line, back from collecting supplies.

Gimli’s triumphant shout can be heard for miles.

“Pay up, lads!”

A/n The end! This is the last chapter of this mini-series! Thanks for sticking with me as I had some fun with this one. I keep tag-lists, so at any time, just let me know if you would like to be tagged in anything. I’m in the planning stages of a Haldir x OC fic, and while I usually stay away from OC’s, I just cannot fathom typing “Y/n” for the length that I’m planning on making that story. So be on the lookout for that! Hope you all are taking care of yourselves and please know that my inbox is always open. Lots of love!

LITN tag list: @angelic-kisses13 @lainphotography @anangelwhodidntfall @sheriffgerard @themerriweathermage @k-llama-llama @hirokosoul @wellfuckmyexistence @ipsychosocial @anjhope1 @my-lotr-obsession-is-unhealthy

[elvish-sky]

A Love Forged by Knives

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

Pairing: Legolas X Reader

Word Count: 1660

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

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

****

A Love Forged by Knives

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Y/N!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Y/N? Is everything ok?"

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

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

"What is it?" you replied.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Of course."

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

"Will you stay with me?"

"Yes."

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

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

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

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

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

[idjitlili]

I can be the God of your Orgasm.

Loki x reader

(Not my image)

Summary:Some how ending up in Sakaar ,Valkyrie ends up taking you under her wing,no not her horse Aragorn,for a year ,until some Gods show up.

Word count:1768

Warnings:Language

A/n: Couldn’t end it , last time I touched this was October. Uhm, there’s a picture of Bowie, probably TMI here, but he was the first man , I ever you know over.Double aswell. I’m sorry.

You just a young woman in y/c ,heading to college your average routine ,but you never made it. Instead you had tripped over into a puddle ,but yet again you were decieved ,it was a portal. You hadn't/only left your country ,let alone been on another planet. You didn't think that was even possible;magic nor to be able to breathe on an different planet,well that was what you were told by the government. No you weren't a flat earther,thats bloody stupid. However you felt like the government hid a lot.

Michael Jacksons death,Heath Ledgers death,River Phoenix's death, Princess Diana's death , David Bowie, Obi-wan,it just seemed a little suspicous, not saying it was definitely them covering up the murders but...

Anyways so you fell into the puddle into a some rubbish ,literal rubbish. You had no idea what happened ,when Valkyrie found you she didn't either. God damn Benedict cumpatch stay in america with your fake american accent. Just stay away ,don't really want to be assassainated for being best buds with Sherlock Holmes and Dildo Gaggins.

Valkyrie had felt bad for such a young mortal being in an strange planet,she couldn't bare to bring you to Grandmaster ,to be apart of his orgies. he was indeed a tough warrior much like Dwalin the dwarf from the hobbit,who funfact is the longest living dwarf living up to 300 years,yes irrelvent.

Thus, you lived with her ,you managed to get a part time job as a cook,just so you didn't feel so bad about living with Valkyrie rent free. When I say part time cook ,I mean you just cooked for you and her,you didn't trust this planet. It was lucky when you fell in that puddle the stuff in your backpack didn't get wet,so you had some books to read,and such.

To be far being away from home stuck on an alien planet really did get boring ,you'd hate to admit it but sometimes you had to go to visit Hulk,because he was sorta normal. No he was not but he was okay ,like a destructive toddler but it was better than being alone. Other than that you really missed home ,you missed tv,you missed ice cream.

Pretty much everyday was boring. Well after almost a year of being here ,Valkyrie had brought a guest to your shared apartment thing. The God you had seen on the television a couple years ago. You had been sitting on the sofa reading at the time ,you jumped so hard when the door slammed open,you had looked up to see valkyrie shoving down a dark haired man in chains.

"Uhhh, are you allowed to kidnap people here?" you had questioned ,causing Valkyrie and the guy turn to you ,you had recognised him after a moment of trying to pin point his face. "I don't think that will hold him...h-he's-"

"Just stay away from him ,don't talk to him,don't look at him,hell don't even think about him,I will be back with Thor ,and then we can get you home, Y/n. So pack your things ." Soon as she had mentioned going home you had already started gathering your things,as Valkyrie had left after the God of Thunder. No you didn't go to the big battle compitions and Valkyrie certainly did not tell you she had found Thor ,but it didn't matter you were going home.

It didn't take you long to pack soon,you had your shoes on and everything sitting on the sofa ,twiddling your thumbs,feeling Loki's gaze on you. What's up with in love stories men staring , oh shut up you are just jealous because you can't even get a boyfriend ,stupid scribe.

"she said not to think about you...can you read minds?" you had questioned ,just really because that gaze he had on you made you feel proper ugly ,in which you were not. He had scoffed at you.

"I'm not a witch."

"I never said you were,you are a God ,must be better than having a hammer, it's like a normal hammer with steriods."

"Ah..so you have heard of me," He had smirked to himself ,you had just looked back at you hands before reaching for your bag grabbing your journal and ink,before just scribbing doodles on a clean page.Loki didn't speak after that not until you did again ten minutes later ,probably less time goes slow when the mood is a drag.

"the thing with new York, that was because of Thanos? People have controlled me by making me feel guilty so many times..OH manipulation ,you probably don't want to hear what I have to say,but I can't help it ,i've been stuck here a year the only person I got to speak to is drunk Valkyrie and hulk in which I feel like I am talking to a child. You know what I really wish I was watching Lord of the rings right-"

"You are from earth,how did you end up here?" He had grinned at you,cutting you off,isn't he like a mass murderer? Well he was tricked into doing it ,so more like accidental murderer ,why is he so handsome. Don't be stupid he is a God of course he is handsome.

"Uh..I fell into a puddle then I was here." The God had turned his head away to the floor ,scrunching his eyebrows together in confusion.

"I don't see how that's possible."

"Well it happene-" Yet you were cut off again,as the door slammed open,you quickly turned away back to your notebook,Thor ,Bruce and Valkyrie stood at the door.

You missed what happened first ,Loki having things thrown at him ,and such,you only looked up when he said something about spaceships,seeing Bruce. Your eyes glittered with excitement , Thor saw this. "Oh my! I can't believe it's-2 Thor had shook his head for you not say it. "Radiation scientist,Bruce Banner, damn,now I must say this is much more exciting than a hammer,which you don't have what's up with that? Hey Bruce how you feeling?Green? Darn, imagine being strongest Avenger!"

Thor had scoffed at you,"Does she always talk this much?"Bruce had made his way over to you smiling at you as you stood up. "It is so cool to meet you mister Banner."

"Thank you miss..." "Y/n" He had smiled at you again before turning to Thor ,"see strongest Avenger,yep that's me."

"well then ,let' hope we can get home,just first we are to go to Asgard."

***

"Valkyrie ,I'm going to stay with Dwayne Johnson,I have no fighting skills so it's better if come I after," you had gestured to Korg.

"Alright then, I'll see you if I don't die" And with that she left you with the aliens,smiling up to them.

"The revolution has begun."

***

"Hey, what's this?"

"Thank you." You had stood next to Korg as he had powered down the taser device on Loki's body,you had stood rocking on your balls of your feet in excitement to get home.

"Hey,man. We're about to jump on that ginormous spaceship. You wanna come?" Loki had jumped up,his hair a messy ,from the intense pain he had just suffered,from betraying his brother yet again.

"well you do seem like you're in desperate need of leadership." The smirk was interweaved into his voice, smooth as his greasy hair.

"Why, thank you."

"Hurry up! It has been too long since I've seen the dance seen in the james franco spiderman three!" You rushed forwards grabbing a hold of the mischief makers arm dragging him towards the ship. "Talkative and touchy," Loki just allowed you to drag him,with him supposively being evil,grinning.

***

"uhhh, what's the chances of as all dying horribly? Do you think if i pretend to be dead she wouldn't notice?" Loki was driving the space ship,whilst you sat in the seat next to him,all the alien people sat or stood behind. You really be riding shotgun on a spaceship,it was you or korg.

Loki did not answer you , yet just slightly smiled glancing to you briefly, not a good sign, you'd think with two Gods you'd be fine ,but clearly not. "Hey do you think if Thor had to fight I don't know- AHH" You weren't sure who you meant to say as you face planted into the spaceship's floor,as Loki's flying had stopped so suddenly causing a jolt. You had laughed to your lesson quietly,patheticly in honesty ,covering up how embarrassing that was.

You felt as if you were Mantis ,when Drax had informed her to watch out after she got hit in the face.  All you could think was there's like a bunch of aliens on this ship and it's guaranteed at least 3 have just seen you face plant.  "Okay , that makes me wish that I was on Thors spaceship right now." Your hair in your face, forearms pressed against the cold metal floor.

"What does he have that I don't?" His voice seeped with sarcasm, okay maybe not he was probably just annoyed that a midgardian was aboard and could not shut up.

"He probably can fly this thing better, well it's probably Bruce but that's even better , do you even know how many PHDs he has?"

"Honestly I do not know and do not care."

"Wow that's not very nice . He has..wait I dont -" The smirk on Loki's face was stamped deep, as he pulled you out of your concentration by doing so. "Shut up I bet you say to all your lovers, ‘If you givee a chance I can be the god of your orgasm’” Honestly you don’t know what made you think of that , something tells you it’s to do with a dude that reads a lot of smut named Blake. Actually the author doesn’t know if he does but..

“Thank you darling, for the new material.”

[rainydaymiddleearthimagines]

The Arrangement pt3 (Aragorn x reader)

Aragorn stood with the people of Rivendell, watching the silver crown be placed on your head as you were kneeled, your father and sister standing there with smiles. You stood up, turning to the crowd with a very serious look. Well, at least it was a stone cold serious look, until you looked over at Aragorn who, out of habit had a natural way of making you smile. “Blessed be, Princess Y/n Undomiel.” Elrond said. “Blessed be, Princess Y/n Undomiel.” The crowd all said in unison. 

Now was the part you could deal with, a ball pretty much in full swing as you stayed glued to the wall next to Legolas and Aragorn. Legolas was still adjusting to the new information that he was “Aragorn” and not technically “Strider”. You were surprised at his newfound acceptance to his name but you liked seeing this new... More confident side to him. “This is ridiculous.” You sighed, sipping your wine. “Agreed.” Legolas said. “They haven’t even noticed us not moving.” Aragorn noticed. “They talk each others ears off if we let them, which we will.” You said. “Give it thirty minutes, Elrond will notice.” Legolas said. “Then he’ll force me to..” You shuddered for emphasis. “Socialize.” You said earning a chuckle from Aragorn. “There’s a lot more people present tonight.” He noticed. “Well now we have the ambassadors from other elven cities, the diplomats, the assistants, personal servants, the leaders other children who weren’t able to come last night, the generals and a few soldiers.” you listed off. “At least you know your people.” Legolas teased. “Oh yes, father would be sooo proud.” You said sarcastically.

Arwen walked over with a pained groan. “The ambassador of Mirkwood is a very annoying man.” She huffed making you snort. “Remember when we spent Legolas’s coronation avoiding the diplomats?” You asked. She cracked a smile. “I recall someone dancing wildly on the ball room floor to distract the others so Legolas could sneak more wine out of the kitchen.” She said. Aragorn laughed and you smiled. “You seem a lot more cheerful tonight.” You observed. “I’m celebrating a dear friend’s achievement, is that not cause for happiness?” Aragorn asked. You rolled your eyes and opened your mouth for a sarcastic comment but was cut off by your father. 

“Y/n, this is a party for you, you should really socialize.” Elrond said. “I am socializing.” you said with a groan. “I meant, outside of your social circle.” He sighed. “Fine, but I’m avoiding Mirkwood’s ambassador.” You muttered. “We all are.” Elrond muttered, earning a small smile from the group as you were dragged off. “She was right you know. You do seem more cheerful than you were last night.” Arwen said. “I’ve been hiding my burdens... It feels nice to be able to live without them.” He admitted. “I was surprised to find out you were from Isildur’s line. I thought they died off.” Legolas said. “Most people assumed that after a while. The line ends with me.” He said with a shrug. “It might not.” Arwen said. “What do you mean?” He asked. “If Galadriel said she sits on a throne with you, there’s a good chance somehow, someway you will make a claim to your throne.” Legolas said. “I have no desire to do so.” Aragorn said. “Allow me to put it simply: Galadriel has had visions of Y/n sitting on a throne. I’ve had visions of you and Y/n falling in love. Two visions of similarity do not come from nowhere.” Arwen stated. 

Aragorn watched the diplomats talk and you slowly slip away and back to the group. “Alright, time to mess with the guards, it’s getting boring.” You sighed. “Hmmm. One on the left near the library doors, I’ll take the right.” Legolas said. Aragorn smirked as the two of you slipped away once more, standing next to the guards. Arwen sighed, putting a hand to her face as you began to make faces at the guards. Aragorn snorted, watching Legolas make inappropriate hand gestures. “These are the great rulers of our future.” Arwen sighed. “Y/n! Stop messing with the guards!” Elrond sighed. “Sorry!” You said, trying not to laugh. You seemed to have some sort of humorous conversation with Legolas, to stealthily mess with the guard. “I think left is going to crack.” Aragorn noticed, the man’s mouth twitching. “Oh not you too.” Arwen said. “Look at the man, he’s twitching.” Aragorn said. Arwen sighed, leaning off the wall. “My money’s on the right one.” Haldir said. “Oh good grief.” Arwen muttered. You made some sort of odd movements with your hand before the right one adjusted his stance. “Five silver’s for the left.” Aragorn muttered. “You’re on.” Haldir said. “You have been around my sister for too long. Both of you.” Arwen said. “Want in on it?” Aragorn asked. “....I’m with Haldir, it’s the right.” She said. Finally Legolas said something and the left started laughing, Aragorn turning to the two elves who both handed him five silver pieces. 

You and Legolas walked over, laughing and smiling. “What’s wrong with you?” You asked Arwen. “She lost a bet.” Haldir said. You gasped dramatically. “Arwen? Wager a bet? I’m shocked I tell you, shocked.” you said, earning an eye roll before an elven man tapped your shoulder. “May I have this dance milady?” He asked. Your eyes screamed, “SAVE ME” and Aragorn leaned over. “Shoot me a look and I’ll come over.” he whispered before you took the man’s hand. 

“For someone who hates the royal life so much, when she’s actually in the setting, she seems to really...” Aragorn struggled to find a word. “Thrive?” Legolas asked. “precisely.” He nodded. “She will make a wonderful queen one day if fate demands it.” Arwen agreed. “She’d make an excellent general.” Haldir said. “What makes you say that?” Aragorn asked. “Get her talking about war formations one day, you will understand what I mean.” Haldir said. “That’s something she picked up from Elladan and  Elrohir.” Arwen said. “Who?” Aragorn asked, recognizing the names. There was almost a flicker of a memory in Aragorn’s mind, but he disregarded it. “Our brothers. They’re the eldest.” She answered. “Why aren’t they here?” Aragorn asked. “They are more so... Protectors of Rivendell than actual royalty. Both their choice.” Arwen said. “Think that’s where Y/n gets it from?” Legolas asked. “No, although she does take after Elrohir with her attitude.” Arwen said. Aragorn smiled as you shot him a look. He set his glass down, leaning off the wall. “Duty calls.” he said. 

He tapped the man’s shoulder, asking to cut in. The man gave a bow before you took Aragorn’s hand. “You looked ready to kill someone.” He said. “The man was horse obsessed. Guess what? Did you know Mirkwood steeds can trot up to twelve miles an hour, because now I do.” you said, earning a laugh. “I’m sorry you had to bare that.” Aragorn said. “I’m sorry for myself, I wanted to impale myself on the guard’s spears.” you said. The song ended and you both clapped. “I guess we should stand with the group.” You said. “Or... We could keep dancing.” He said. “...Or we could do that.” You nodded, putting your hand on his shoulder and taking his hand once more. 

Galadriel watched you and the man, smiling at each other, along with Elrond and Thranduil. “Do you think your prophecy to be true?” Elrond asked, watching you dance. “The more and more I watch Y/n with him, the more certain I am of this.” She nodded. “I’m not sure I like my daughter with him. He did lie about his identity for five months.” Elrond muttered. “But he’s accepted his name now.” Galadriel said. Thranduil looked over at her. “I didn’t think you’d actually support them.” He said. “Y/n is intelligent. If there is a reason she will love him to a point of marriage , there is a good reason.” She said simply. Elrond turned back to you two, noticing the looks on both of your faces.

“They’re in love.” Legolas observed. “Oh, absolutely.” Haldir agreed. Arwen noticed Elrond’s observant gaze. “Father has resigned in trying to stop it.” She said. “That’s good.” Legolas said. “Indeed. It’s about time he’s learned that she can’t be controlled.” Arwen agreed. “Now it’s time for the next step.” Arwen added. “Which is?” Haldir asked. “For both of them to realize that.” She said. 

“You look lovely this evening.” Aragorn told you. “As do you. Sweet talker.” you teased. He smiled. “Do you think they’re right?” He asked. “About what?” you asked. “Us. Together. It’s... Odd, don’t you think?” He asked. “I tend to like odd.” you admitted. “But I do agree. I hold you close as a dear friend. Not exactly--” “Lover material, right!” He agreed. “Maybe we married as a political thing!” You said. “Good theory.” He nodded. You smiled, your heart seeming to pound. “...Or maybe we do fall in love.” You said. “...Maybe we do.” He said, dancing with you. “Only time will tell, right?” you asked. He found himself nodding to your words.

“Only time will tell.”

[blankdblank]

Ash Pt 14

“The line of Luthien shall wither to wrath and ruin and burn within my clutch.” The words had burned through the ages and one by one a line of Kings had joined the ever growing names on plaques etched in tombs of the fallen. Tombs of the claimed and slain. Slain in means of a similar goal, annihilation of everything a certain now formless Maiar had built with his own blood soaked hands. King by King, brother by brother, son by son those of the attainable mortal line sired by the mighty Lord Elros now long since lost a single hidden Prince had just been taken into notice of the Maiar bent on destroying him. Not a decade yet he imagined his task succeeded, but not now.

Two days prior the link to his former self tumbled into his path. Right where he hoped to now have a means to return. When there are so many and much to corrupt fingers and feet could do a great deal more than any whisper in the ear of a mutilated servant who knew no life else than the blind wandering path to pass on his proclamations to those too deaf to hear it. However that creature did more for him than a corrupted thief had ever done that once coveted his portal to the physical form for the past five centuries. Hidden away, forgotten, mocked by the name that creature had given it, my Precious.

.

Stumbled aside from avoidance of an angry mountain goat that knocked the blonde Prince into the hot  springs Estel dropped to the ground and in a means to help himself up picked up what he had curiously discovered. A single solitary rather ordinary looking gold ring. Far too large for himself he tucked it away in his pocket and stood to giggle at a second goat that bumped the King in after his son in a means to help him out of the water that issued a group of Elves to shoo the animals out of one of the spring baths at least to grant turns for those willing to bathe.

It started at first with an echo, an echo of a name the boy had yet to hear, “Aragorn,” faint as the wind in a vast dessert. And now within his dreams there was a figure in each doorway, formless, faceless and tall rasping that name again and again. At least until a large growling dog that by the size of the boy seemed to be ten feet tall, nails clicking in each step across the stone or wood floors of whatever room his slumbering self was in to cross the room and charge at the specter who fled the gnashing jaws bent on tearing it limb from limb.

Each day to awaken more tired than the day before and clinging to the stuffed dog doll that he continued to borrow each night from the same woman that in each glance his way washed a sense of calm over him that these dreams and haunting voice had dared to threaten in his formerly carefree youth.

.

“Es-,” Thranduil chuckled in the clutch of small arms around his leg from the boy who had darted from the wagon that bore similar scratches in the back corner that he had seen in his dream the night before. Down the King bent and lifted the child up in one arm to climb in an easy one handed fashion onto his Elk’s back, “Now you may ride with us in these enclosed fields.”

Miles of green surrounded you in the rank widening stretch of fields towards the distant drop of a pathway that would guide you further into the cavern where the kingdom could be seen. Smiles and giggled floated between jokes and tales until again you slowed to a gasp worthy sight. Down another woven pathway you rode and ended in an open courtyard where once you were helped down the small boy latched his hand onto yours and began to tug you away. Too fast for the ruling Lord who turned to sigh out, “Welcome, to Imladris.”

It didn’t take long however for the twins and Princes to discover where you had been taken to guide you back for a chance to bathe and dress for dinner. Free again to ease into one of your blouses and foldaway skirts in the favored yellow and black you smiled ready to explore the halls a bit more only to spot Thranduil in a towel on the other side of the door to your bedroom that you closed again. Lowly in both shock and amusement he chuckled and said, “I apologize, I assumed you were still bathing.”

“You are doing this on purpose,” you said that made him fight not to chuckle again.

“I swear to you I am not.” You heard another door close and he stated, “I am in my room.” After a moment he paused and to the sound of your handle turning and door open he stated, “Should you find sharing an apartment with me uncomfortable other arrangements can be made. I merely wished for you to have the best.”

“This was all planned. I will not up-heave things now and trouble others. We do however require a warning system for when you have an inclination to strut your bare self around.”

That had him laugh loudly and reply, “I was not strutting.”

“When I was young men who could not hold a candle to you strut like foxes, if you aren’t strutting you should.” Again that had him laugh in shock for the clear compliment on his physical form that by the sound of your abrupt departure he might have to find you hiding later from what other meanings your words could be taken as. Taken still as a child and now as an adult clearly time to come to realization towards the appeal of a possible husband had been creeping into your life upon freedom outside of mere daydreams while imprisoned. Although you had no reason to be embarrassed since you were as good as courting and therefore eventually to be engaged and wed afterwards. Already you had compared him to the tastiest of pumpkins that could tempt any to choose him, amongst ample compliments upon his taste in attire and other things so there were hints that on a purely physical level you could find him attractive.

.

“I have heard a great many things about you, Queen Jaqiearae.” Upon entrance into a courtyard overlooking a waterfall you froze and turned to the common tongue speaking stern voice of a white robe clad long bearded elderly man with white staff in hand topped with what looked to be a pointed tower. Long hair slicked back in solid white to match the beard that bore a streak of black in the center of his lower lip downwards. His steely blue eyes locked on you as you faced him fully and felt the shift of his gaze over your loose gem and feather accented star speckled raven curls loose around you down to your waist that shifted on a gentle breeze.

On said breeze however a second tall elderly figure came into view. This one with salt and pepper hair and beard more wiry than the first in a long courser grey robe with a matching pointed hat he removed in sight of you and to the tap of his brown staff topped in a swirl of branches similar to a folded flower. His bright blue eyes however locked upon your silver flecked purple eyes that shone brighter in the warm sunlight and after his moment of awe his head bowed to you, “Queen Jaqiearae, I am Gandalf the Grey.”

The white Wizard spoke again, “And I am Saruman the White.”

In a nod of your head you stated, “Hello. Radagast mentioned you both, so have others too.”

Saruman, “Radagast however shared nothing of how you found yourself here. There was no mention of another Wizard being assigned to aid in our task and then suddenly whispers of a Loote-Viirin washed upon the shores of Dale are passed upon wind feather and leaf to every corner of the lingering greens of these lands.”

“Well, it’s, sort of complicated.”

Gandalf stepped forward post huff at his friend’s tone that clearly had you take a step back and fold your fingers together across your belly as if a child scolded and lured your eyes to him, “Radagast has shared of the bewitchment that man used to barter for and trap you. Merely, are you aware of any calling that brought you here?”

You shook your head, “I backed into a bookshelf, I couldn’t get myself up when I saw the wave.”

Saruman cut in, “A face then, surely within the waters or flames?” His brows tightening in his try to gain an answer.

You shook your head, “I tucked up, something hit my head.”

Saruman, “Something or someone?”

“My eyes were closed.”

Gandalf, “Were you reciting an escape charm?”

“No, I just asked for, someone to save me.”

To your words and gaze shifted between the two Gandalf spoke again, “And saved you were.”

Celeborn from a walkway if his own stated, “I do hope the Wizards of the White Council do not intend to spend this entire festival interrogating our newest arrival.”

Saruman at that stated, “No, however we shall allow our young Queen to enjoy her festivities. Now that I have seen her for myself there are questions to be asked and council to be taken amongst the Valar as towards her purpose. I shall consult the oracles.” To the side he turned and muttered to Gandalf in a tongue the others could not understand. “Both eyes Gandalf, spare no attentions to this young spectacle.”

He moved to leave only to hear you retort, “If I am a spectacle to you then I can state you are a territorial gopher of an old man.” That turned his head with eyes on you in fiery shock for how this stranger had known the tongue of their kin. “And if anyone should be keeping both eyes open it’s me. I’m new here for all I know you’ll try to lock me away like that dead pompous captor of mine! I was 15 when he took me! Over a thousand years I spent locked away and the first thing you ask me is ‘who sent me’ and ‘what I apparently was sent here to do’? Well why don’t you go and share what you were sent to do?! Why don’t you try to show something other than arrogance and suspicion, but no, it’ll rain fire before that happens I bet! Don’t you worry Saruman the White! I won’t be stepping in anyone’s toes so you don’t have to watch me! Where do you think I would go I don’t even barely know anywhere but Dale, Greenwood and I’ve been to Erebor once, Once!” You stopped with a finger raised between you to accent your point to the confusion of the Elf watching.

Abruptly you turned and continued muttering to yourself to Celeborn’s amusement, “But no, must be sent to come and conquer the planet by how you’re muttering on about,” your voice dropped mockingly, “‘Both eyes Gandalf,’” even Gandalf had to chuckle at that. “Both eyes on what?! I can barely cross my room without smashing into a trunk. Ooh, careful mr tree,” you said in a turn avoiding a small flowering sapling, “I might overthrow ownership of your pot. And don’t you dare think I’m innocent little daisy I might just trample you too on my way to razing this kingdom to the ground.” Loudly you groaned and finished in another turn past Elrond who was on his way to follow the raised voices.

When you passed him you said in Quenya this time, “Careful there Elrond apparently I’m to be watched. I’m the most sinister thing around apparently according to the leader of the staff brigade.” To himself he held back a chuckle and simply strolled to the courtyard where he found the Wizards and Celeborn and sighed on his way to remind the Wizards that they had agreed to be kind to the young Queen they had now irritated into a storming path to who knows where in this kingdom she’d yet to be toured properly.

Right into your path however Thranduil, Legolas and Tauriel came into your path and the King said with a kind smile, “There you are,” his smile shifted in notice of your agitation, “What has happened, my Darling Starlight?”

“Apparently I’m, dangerous,” the final word you accented with a lift of both hands to wiggle your fingers on either side of your head.

More humerous than intimidating Legolas chortled to Tauriel’s glance away to remain silent and simply Thranduil sighed and stepped forward and took claim of your right hand he folded around his bent elbow and stated. “Perhaps then a proper tour is best to allow you time to simmer down in danger while Elrond and Celeborn speak to those doubtful Wizards. Hmm? We have a picnic prepared at the end of it for you. I know you will be pecking by then.”

Every scenic inch of the kingdom all the way to a waterfall view of a wildflower painted clearing where the picnic was waiting for you had you in awe of the different feel of this place. Most turns with glimpses of the Wizards, both still here, and deep in conversation amongst one another until they had seen you when the food was gone. Inside the ring of pillows stacked like a wall you made good use of the unsettling King who wouldn’t stop staring at you between adoring smiles to the sight of the dozens of butterflies and hummingbirds and bumblebees that came to inspect the new arrival with bright flower decorated beads in her hair. That even in being proven to be fake was still brilliant enough to still encourage lingering stares in circling flights around the group.

To his side you moved and leaned into his chest to peer out at the view and settled in more to his arm that draped around your middle and chin that rested on top of your head fully pleased in this new position even if it cost him a diminished view without all of you in it. Fully aware of the intrigued band of artists who had taken the new face in the kingdom as their muse for ample sketches since you had arrived later to be displayed or gifted to you and the clearly enamored King.

It was this bond that had the speculation pause. Together Saruman and Gandalf took notice of the lace of your fingers between his on the hand rested on your side through a content sigh in the warm afternoon. It was then in the bright sunlight the antler and bitten gemstone necklace that slipped from the fold in the collar of your blouse that they knew why you were called here. Wizard yes. Queen unlike one they had encountered in a good age or longer by their reckoning. Radagast had named your kin in connection to those who once tended the Two Trees. And in the gentle flowering of the gardens around where you had passed and stretch of the trees that seemed to draw breath to ready a song deep down. Underneath all of the questions and unknown they could feel that danger might be drawn to you but you were no harbinger of doom as many who seemed too pure in ages past had revealed themselves to be.

“So how long does this flower festival last?” You asked to Thranduil’s free hand gliding along your free hand on the blanket beside your outstretched legs.

“It would appear the rains have delayed the openings of many a blossom, so it should be near to a week yet and then the weeklong parade of adoration for all that thrives here shall begin.”

“Just a week?” You teased and he chuckled lowly and pressed a chaste kiss to the side of your temple.

Murmuring sweetly by your ear in a low velvety hum, “That, my Darling Starlight, is precisely why our kingdom is far superior when it comes to celebrations.”

“Now who is telling lies?” Elrond said in his cross of the garden. Determined to come and welcome you to a games display where you struggled to learn the intricate rules to the card game on tournament for this night. Until you had to call it a night to the loss of your pretend purse you tried to master it. Then headed to your apartment to continue on the pair of stuffed sock dolls you were cutting patterns out for Estel since he had taken so much to yours.

Not half an hour later Thranduil found you inside the sitting room and smiled in his plop down beside you, “Here you are. I have won back your purse and reined victorious and won you this,” atop his plan he presented you a rather impossibly shiny looking green apple that had you giggle and accept it in a shift of fabric from one hand to the other.

“Thank you.”

“They are very tasty. No expensive prizes for three days yet, but it is a start.”

“I will stick with the apple, thank you.”

You giggled to his determined gaze and settled it at your side to continue pinning strips of the pattern together and he asked, “Another garment?”

“No, I was going to make Estel a set of stuffies of his since he’s taken to mine so much.”

“Brilliant, he will be eternally grateful,” he said in a lean in to kiss your cheek and shifted back, “Can I help?” You nodded and showed him where to pin pieces together so you could get started on stitching the first group with a pre-strung needle.

...

The bed was lovely and the room was so neatly put together. It did however lack a broad wall of a body to lie on the space beside your lounge bed and so cat naps were a must as it was hard to sleep the night through alone again. The sight was quite commonplace and the assumed final week and nerves from the Stone Giant portion of the trip had others assuming you were merely working that tension from your body. As people would randomly find you curled up on lounges or armchairs. And each time you would wake to blankets draped across you that you had no clue where they belonged. So you would simply fold them and slip away to find another activity or meal that would fill your days. Thranduil had taken to his own discussions with the mighty Wizards whilst you were asleep to share more of what he knew to drive them from ever daring to interrogate you again along with still keeping your confidence to not share anything too personal that might upset you should it be passed around.

Awoken by the muffled sound of someone calling for Estel your pre-breakfast nap on a swinging bench underneath a tree came with a face to the blanket culprit. Tauriel who had been tasked to keeping an eye out for where you might be hiding tucked the folded woven blanket behind her back and flashed you a quick grin to your hand rising to pinch the back of your sore neck from the awkward slump you had been in to recline on the deep seated bench. “Morning, Your Highness. This is a lovely garden for a nap.”

“Yes it is, though I might suggest a sideways slump for yourself by the knot my tactic gave me.” To the end of the bench you slid and up you rose in a roll of your head and shoulders that sounded with several pops that later would relieve the tension lingering in your shoulders. In a glance around you asked to the next call for Estel, “They still can’t find him? I didn’t even see him after breakfast in his usual meal with the other kids.”

Tauriel, “No, the Lords Ellohrir and Elladan presumed he might have gone to one of his hidden coves.”

You nodded and said, “Well maybe I can whip out my compass and help find him. Must be hungry.”

“That would be most helpful Lord Elrond does panic when he cannot be found, last time it took hours to find him Lord Elrond found him asleep near the orchards and refused to sleep for near to a week to watch him around the clock.”

“Makes me wonder how he survived his own three children.”

Tauriel chuckled and said, “Lady Celebrian often sent him to visit her father and mother to get him some rest from the stress by what I have been told.” You giggled and walked with her towards your room to grab your bag and she added, “I also know several tales of how King Thranduil tolerated Prince Legolas’ youth for when you wish to know them.” That had you grin with her and hop up the first of the steps onto the open walkway for the shortest distance to your shared apartment.

The calls didn’t cease and had you pick up your pace and unbuckle the securing strap of your removable skirt that once you walked through the front door was in hand and once you were in your room flew to the closet to put itself up so you could not be hindered in searching for the lost boy. Locked in place your foot stopped you at the sight of your bed where you eyed the covers torn away and bunched along the wall and just the crouched goat alone on your bed.

“NoNo,” you murmured only to turn your head to a panicked shriek muffling the growl that stirred it. A loud howl split the air and you gasped, “NoNo!” Open handed you sprinted out the door with the bag that flew to your grip from the bedside table. Behind you Tauriel drew her blade on her thigh having thrown the blanket in hand to your bed. The both of you skidding and racing as fast as you could into an open field where the herds of steeds had once been grazing until the trouble, steadying your breath as best you could until you spotted the foe everyone seemed to be panicked by.

“Huan! It’s me! You know me!” Celebrimbor shouted with hands raised open and empty to show he wasn’t a threat to the peach mist surrounded twelve foot dog snarling and snapping at the Elf who was trying to calm down the creature he assumed to be his reborn and confused friend from his youth. Around them guards lined up ready to act if need be and the great dog couldn’t be calmed or reasoned with as none in the crowds that had fled the area could say just where or how he had come to be here.

Hard and heavy from the search for the boy all the armor coated and armed Elf Lords between the Wizards came into view assessing the situation only to watch you break through the guards’ line to shout, “NoNo!” Jaws dropped to the dog’s turn to face you in the fall of your curls half into your face and over your chest and back in the sudden stop and all at once when you asked in your tongue none else knew, “Where is TikTik?” The great dog gave a concerned whimper and your lips parted.

Celebrimbor asked you, “This dog is familiar to you?”

“She’s my sleep guardian, oh this is not good.”

You said dropping to your knees to set your bag on the ground to the dog’s loud howl and Thranduil asked, “What does she want? Your guardian?”

In a strill tone from panic you answered sharper than you meant, “She wants TikTik! Her mate, they’re a pair, Estel had him last!”

Celeborn, “That stuffed dog he borrowed? How could it be paired with this creature?” He asked in her panicked sniff around another ring of bushes nearby Estel liked to hide in often laced with his scent still from the day before.

“They’re a pair, she’s a protection charm you give them to your children when they sleep, they keep away omens and specters. They only come alive when separated by more than ten miles,” you paused with a pant and locked your ready gaze on his to say, “She’s awake, that means, if we don’t find TikTik she’ll destroy anyone and anything in her path and I can’t stop her.”

Elrond rasped in a failure to catch his breath, “Ten miles…Estel could not have traveled ten miles alone.”

“And no one has seen him all morning, perhaps even through the night.” You said again lowering to dig your arms into the bag that you continued to sink into at impossible reach for the size of the bag.

When your head dipped inside Thranduil eased past the dog that circled you to sniff a trio of woven trees the boy had climbed with you. The empty tree had her whimper again and howl loudly in hopes of hearing an answer of her mate that sent a chill through every heart around her in the sink of the shared panic as for who had taken the child and set off this beast as their only warning. “What are you searching for?”

Out again with hold of something you grunted in answer, “We need The Duke.”

“Duke?” Thranduil asked, “Which Duke?”

He glanced to the other Lords and then back to you when he saw a glowing chain your hands were fixed on in the sudden lift of the bag that to an impossible degree began to widen for what the crowd saw to be a silver beak on what was moments later revealed to be a ten foot across and high swan’s head with the start of a neck to follow. “Come on Duke,” you muttered and continued to pull for the rest of the thirty foot neck. Mouths dropped open in what would be revealed to be a swan ship that stretched to 156 feet long not counting the neck that in its full reveal eased upwards to an elegant curve. Hearts once slumped now soared from those of the Teliri Elves who stood in the presence of a ship like those that the Feanoreans razed to cinders they imagined the crafting of which to never be seen again since having left those scorched shores for these lands.

In your sprint down the side Elrond shouted to Celeborn’s teary eyed gawk at the marvelous albeit roughly polished sides on the ship, “READY TO ARMS!” Guards in the distance and those who were near gathered their armor and weapons with other Elleths who had seen the ship went to fetch the armor and weapons of the unarmed Lords who they knew would not abandon this chase for the child who all rushed to put on. Halfway down the side of the ship in a leap up your hand fixed upon a disguised foot rest. And you pulled yourself up to the built in ladder to a hidden door that once pushed inwards NoNo raced to dive over your head to join in on the ship knowing you were on the way to find her mate and the child with him.

Thranduil was first to dart and follow you up the ladder with his own already armed guards after Legolas who impatiently waited for his own chance to get into the impossible ship both Wizards were still gawking at in the soar of your bag up onto the deck for you to grab. Right behind you once on the deck Thranduil stepped aside eyeing the sanded and sealed wood deck that showed patchwork breeds of wood used as if chosen from scrap piles out of shortages of wood.

The main level consisting of rooms on his left underneath a balcony edged by open archways surrounded by staircases on either side that led to a second set of rooms under another balcony where the sideways mounted wheel was bolted the wrong way around. Above that area was another level of a sealed room behind where a mast should go with a set of steps to take you higher to another open floor that gave an open path to the highest crows nest just fifteen feet from the rear level of flooring with just another spot where the tail mast should go with secures for the sails now empty of rigging. On his right however towards the literal head of the swan ship he followed you. Past the open circular staircase that led down into the ship into the covered dome of a metal comprised room ended with a balcony on the front of the ship to peer out the front. Curious of where you had gone a panted breath had him look up and find your feet in the tunnel up the open neck to the head. With aid of the mirror like walls his hand stroked across the rough to the touch patch on the otherwise smooth metal walls underneath the built in ladder you wiggled into the head.

Right onto the seat there in Legolas’ reach of his side they saw you settle and plant your feet on the pedals behind a series of overlapping rings around what even them in their novice knowledge of the ships of old to be the power core of a crystal encased star. Hard and steady you pedaled hoping to spark up the star engine panting to yourself, “Come on Duke. Spark up handsome. I’m so sorry I left you so long. Please, I know you want to soar.”

All across the deck amazed soldiers filled the space and made room for more on what would have been even larger than the largest of their former fleets they had memory of being crafted. Small bits for those amongst former ship crews who could feel every inch of their bodies throbbing with memory of what their former roles had been before they had been grounded showed that this was obviously yet to be finished entirely to perfection. Perfect enough though to merely exist while they circled the tower in the center of the circular drop for the lower levels. The sides of the tower above their heads was topped with a glass dome above open archways that clearly led to what they knew as one sunlight access point to the greenhouse, around which they saw the larger glass dome near to the head of the ship for the larger portion of the greenhouse below.

“YES!” you were heard to squeak to the telling glow and hum of the now pulsing light of the star core between the spinning rings of the engine to channel that power lower. The spread of which rippled across the scaled outer layer of the neck and head that over the back and inside gave the illusion to be see through allowing sight to the wheel. Again post wiggle back down the tunnel you were spotted and held back a flinch to the hands that helped you down to the ground safely again. Once there a moment you paused to peer up at Thranduil who was smiling at you in awe, “Told you I had a swan ship.”

“Yes you did,” he chuckled and followed you in your reluctant turn to ready the rest of the ship for flight above the spot it hovered just a few inches off the ground.

Back down the deck you passed through the parting guards who bowed their heads to you and the King past the other Elf Lords who trailed after Celeborn who practically raced to see how he could help to get this beauty off the ground. Eyes all fell to the sideways wheel that each wondered how that would steer this properly, however on either side of it with a squeeze of the levered handles on the metal posts that you eased down to a 45 degree angle and let go their eyes shifted over the deck to the sound of mechanics moving underfoot. Knowing what this was Celeborn raised his foot to the raise of yours and the both of you pushed down the levers to the ground, hands fixed on separate grips on the wheel that together when the levers touched the ground gave way for a hard won turn. Up again you let the levers rise to the same degree then pushed down again for those on the outer walls from the now visible open doorways to the level of flooring they were housed in to see the extension of wing like layered sails that were tied up to the securing chains that held the shape. Twelve good cranks and fully extended the wings rested in their proper extended wrapped position to begin the flight process.

Firmly you gripped the levers again and lifted them back into place. Again he looked over the wheel in your crouch to grip a looped handle secured in a notch in the ground that you lifted and pulled firm out and kept hold of to grip one side of the wheel you pulled hard to its rightful position revealing the second pin groove that you lowered to lock the wheel in place. Just the flat looped head of the pin locked in place had the wing sails shiver themselves loose and open to glimmer then glow brightly. Right away they puffed up as if filled with wind to the powerful glow that spread from end to end that began the lift of the ship to the hurried tug of the final guards onto the ship they sealed the door to behind them.

Celeborn asked still in awe, “Where did you obtain this ship?” he asked to your glance at the Wizards in their own browse of the upper deck with sight of the dog who was staring out the front balcony of the ship impatiently for her Mate.

“I built it,” you said and looked him over in the drop of his jaw, “We have a 14 month long race around the world, only sons can compete, but I got to digging in the junkyard of broken ships and managed the Duke together. Only half the size of my Dad’s, his is called The Emperor, nearly 300 feet not counting the neck. It’s a nice starter ship size.” You looked the Lords over and said, “I know it’s rough, but it flies just fine.”

Glorfindel stated, “No, the silence is from awe. This ship resembles those destroyed in Teleri in the middle of the Kinslayings initiated by the Feanoreans.”

“Ah, parallels again.”

Celebrimbor asked, “Aren’t there supposed to be masts?”

“There are,” you said and turned back to the level up behind you where you opened a hatch in the ground revealing another wheel that you cranked the lever beside it to stir up a glow in the floor beside you. Rippled back the metal patch of floor folded revealing rotating rings that to a turn of the wheel in a spike the mast rose up from the middle upwards in growing vine designs on the open metal masts. That to rotations of the wheel timed to cranks to each layer both above and below the crows nest platform complete with railings that grew from the floor of the lookout to full height in its rise. The pattern of how it was done had a pair of former crewmen found the hidden hatch to lift the rear mast that from the sides of the ship out of hidden doorways accepted hold of the enchanted chains that secured to the tip on their own.

From there down again you led the way to the curved stairway down to the metal patch of floor for the tallest mast that two more Elves neared you to help you raise up the incredible mast like the others would have several of the Elves touch it to simply have a feel of the craftsmanship unlike the wooden masts their former ships bore. Celeborn did just that upon your rise to your feet again stating, “Simply magnificent. How did you master this?”

“Well, took me a year to design it. Dad’s has a wooden mast, but I couldn’t go around chopping down trees. My cousin could barely manage the wood for the floors and stairs for me, the wood from the junkyard wouldn’t have worked right. Most of that was bowed or splintered.”

Celeborn, “It is beautiful. My Ada built ships, took nearly a century each, to have done this in less than a decade is a wonder.”

Legolas asked in a check of the ship’s place nearly level with the crevice walls around the city beneath you all filled with those behind who wished you all the best of luck and safety in your search. “How does it fly?”

That had you smirk and head back to the wheel where at the wheel into your bag you reached bringing out the enchanted compass you opened with your thumb and said, “Estel,” that began to spin and aim to where the boy was. Around the center knot of the wheel your hand folded and with your palm you pressed inwards, from the center outwards a change of the color of the wood from mahogany to silver triggered the wing sails to lift up into elegant arches, the end of which had enchanted star ore chains to lock the sails up to the masts. Each and every silver glimmering sail rippled to the wind and from its float upwards now forward at an angle to turn with grip and tug on the wheel to follow the direction of the compass.

Just the motion alone bolstered hope that this could be achieved rather quickly with ease thanks to this enchanted ship that Thranduil now mentally wondered how it could be used in travel between kingdoms to your preference in the future if you desired over the two week long treks from here to there and back again. Saruman however asked in his approach, “I am curious, you mentioned this protection charm, is there any way to tell who has perhaps taken the child?”

“There is a spell the one who casts it can use to see where the child is but my Gran made them, and she’s passed now so that plan is moot. If it’s a person then that’s one thing, but if it’s something dark, then it would have to be powerful to have survived an attack from TikTik to ward it off.”

Elrond, “Like a dragon?”

You shook your head, “No, dragons are no match for this charm. They know better. Something stronger.”

Gandalf, “Another Necromancer perhaps?” he asked with eyes on you already when you looked his way.

“Perhaps, how frequent do they pop up here?”

Saruman looked to you, “Just the one that we know of.”

You nodded and said, “I’ll see if I can work up a net for some hints then.”

A swivel of your head for who to leave charge of the wheel to found an anxious guard who crept closer and bowed his head to you with hands extended upwards in hopeful acceptance of the compass, “May I, Your Highness?”

Thranduil explained, “Kuu here was a Captain amongst the Teleri fleets. We will be in skilled hands.”

You nodded and relented to pass over control of the wheel compass and wheel that had him smile in timid strokes of his fingertips across it. Away from the wheel you began the way to the central curved staircase with the Lords and Wizards behind you. Beyond the tower to let light in lower you followed the steps into the highest of five lower floors, through which behind you curious guards meandered into each of the either empty or sparsely filled rooms that gave hints of purpose.

The sound of a panicked slam of a door back into place in its lean forward had you turn and peer back to the wide eyed guards now holding the door who nodded when you said, “I haven’t exactly gotten around to hinges for some of the doors. So, keep an eye out for falling timber.”

Scattered chortles followed your path onwards again amongst the guards who rippled the warning up to those on the deck should they explore themselves, a pair who on the level below the wheel learned that the hard way as well and nearly screamed out of shock of the heavy door coming loose.

Open rooms without doors yet to be formed had each head swivel to peek inside until you reached a large room that opened through a glass wall packed with pinned up papers, maps and tables with models of locations or oceans in between complete with markups of paths to maneuver to gain shorter times to soar across them.

Thranduil asked, “Are these your plans for the race you were to take part in?”

“Yes,” you said in a glance at Celeborn’s inspection of your travel papers to Elrond’s inspection of one of your models. “Look familiar?”

Elrond said, “This appears to be Beleriand.” Luring the others over while Thanduil came with you to the bookshelf along the wall you opened the glass pane doors to a couple of them to fetch a few books.

“That’s Gorlumbtihg. Where the brilliant minds are invited to study.” You said taking the books to the desk you settled down and splayed out to open each of the clear journals loaded with pasted in notes and diagrams around sketches and excerpts you had written on various topics that over your shoulder Thranduil eyed uselessly but with unflinching curiosity to know each secret of this touch of your home that you yourself had built. A sign that not all of your past was terrible.

Elrond took hold of the folding crystal itinerary that upon opening played a trapped in message in a small cloud of mist above it that showed the kingdom and ruling family and the pathway you were designated to take and which port you were assigned to have taken and the aid there who would play as your host during your stay. When the video was through Glorfindel brought more from a basket over to the group who all watched them all unable to understand the words spoken but caught the basics of what you were expected to do and where to go.

Gandalf in a creep closer to your side asked in a point to the journal on the left of the three asked, “What are you searching for?”

“I know I have something on a radar of sorts to know what we might be facing. The race has you cross territories of various creatures and I had some models, one might be easy to whip up on the way.”

Saruman, “What supplies do you have on board that we might gather?”

To that you sighed and answered, “Not much past my greenhouse. But I can see what I can find around the place.”

Thranduil stated in a rest of his hand on your back, “I know you can muster something up.”

Thranduil shifted his gaze from the journal to the moving portraits in a propped up tri-fold album that his free hand moved to shift to a better view of the mother holding an infant, a second with you and a couple in front of a market and a third with a sideways image of several people. “Are these your relatives?” he asked timidly, halfway afraid that he had hold of the image of the man who strangled your mother and put such fear and doubts into your heart.

“My Gran and me in the first, my parents and me in the second with the shop, the third is the rest of our family. Copied those when I was being packed up to leave.”

Between flips through the journal you answered questions from the others from the itineraries that showed more similarities between your worlds landscape-wise. “Ooh, here’s something,” you said to something that looked to be a stew recipe that had the group shadowing your path to the greenhouse that was full of a row of potato plants opposite varied sturdy plants. One of a few of each you brought out of the dirt and diced in shapes and varied ways you then shook around in a large cauldron then promptly flipped that over to plant it on the ground and planted your ear on top of it.

One of the Lords was about to speak only to have Gandalf lift a finger to his lips and crouch down with you to listen himself and mutter, “Screeches, grunts and, the clash of metal.” He said in his straighten up again. “Estel has been taken by orcs.”

“There’s a whisper,” you added that lowered the heartbroken gazes to you again. Gently you knocked on the cauldron that had NoNo suddenly appear at your side in a cloud of mist who leaned in to listen herself and her feet shifted excitedly to the muffled echo of a howl showing the link between the trick to check on the boy proving TikTik knew you were coming and shared with you through NoNo that Estel was safe but scared. “Estel’s safe but scared, but there’s this whisper around him. Can’t be a ghoul,” you said lifting up from the cauldron that once you lifted revealed a puff of smoke revealing the ingredients had turned to smoke in the expenditure of the trick’s time limit. Thranduil’s hand lowered that yours laid inside of to climb to your feet again and you said, “Ghost wouldn’t be strong enough, something possessed maybe?”

Your eyes landed on Saruman who stated, “There is no shortage of beasts who could be possessed amongst the company of orcs. Many a foul thing has crawled from the murky underbelly of this world to steal an innocent being. How long will your charm last to protect the child?”

“Oh you can’t break it, and even if he was taken TikTik won’t let anything serious happen to him.”

Creaks of the sails and shelves enchanted to remain upright with items inside that shift or slide to the motion when not full around the greenhouse had you all wish to go up again to see just where you were headed before a tour was requested of the rooms at the other end of the ship.

Pt 15

All –

@sherala007​, @mariannetora​​, @jesgisborne​, @knitastically​, @catthefearless​​, @theincaprincess​, ggbbhehe4455, @lilith15000​,

Not nsfw(smut) - @otakumultimuse-hiddlewhore​

Ash - @devilishminx328, @fandomsstolemylife00​, @lilith15000

[meteor752]

I made a joke post about Legolas and Aragorn adopting a baby Geralt and raising him a few weeks ago, but I can’t get it out of my head, so I’m gonna expand on that AU. First post can be found here

So Legolas and Aragorn are basically just out on a vacation in the eastern part of Middle Earth, just taking a break and chilling around you know, when they stumble upon a child just outside the kingdom of Rivia (Yes I am keeping that)

The child is about three or four years old, with the peculiar outward appearance of big Yellow eyes and almost white hair, and it doesn’t seem to mind being out alone in the middle of the forest.

Both Legolas and Aragorn decide though that they will try to find the child’s parents, and they spend two days in Rivia searching for the parent of the child, or just someone who knows something, but they get no results. Most people are repelled by the child, saying that it’s cursed or the result of witchcraft, and both Aragorn and Legolas take offense by that as they had gotten attached to the child.

On the third day they eventually give up, and after a long discussion they decide to adopt the child, as again, they both got attached real fast.

When the two return to Gondor with the small boy whom they named Geralt, a lot of people get quite surprised, mostly because what and why. Their respective families have the same reaction.

The two realize quickly that Geralt is not a normal child.

First, they have no idea what he is. They first thought human, but when small bursts of magic started to come from him, and when his acute sense of smell was discovered, they scratched that idea.

Second, he refused to part with his wolf medallion. They didn’t know why, it had been inspected by a lot of people, including Gandalf himself, but it didn’t seem to have any type of spell or curse on it that made him so fiercely attached to it. And he couldn’t tell them anything about it because-

-Three, he barely speaks. At first they thought he was mute or deaf or something alike, but that didn’t seem to be the case as he could hear, and he did utter a few words here and there. He just chose not to speak, and mostly made cute little grunts when people spoke to him.

Legolas became a mother hen very quickly, and was very loving towards his strange child, and as a child Geralt didn’t mind it too much. As an adult however, then he just wishes his ada would stop smothering him (He secretly loves it).

Aragorn is a lot less lovey dovey, but still very caring and Geralt loves to be around him. He was very quick with teaching his child both sword techniques and manners, but his major priority was teaching him how to care for a horse.

Geralt was not a shy kid as many people believed, When it came down to it he was more than able to voice his opinion. He just, doesn’t like to talk. And because of that fact, he also grew up to be very poor with words and having a problem formulating himself, which backfired a few times in his life.

The thing is, he doesn’t like when others talk either. He just wants to sit around and brood in silence like the angsty boy he is, but none of his family members allow him to, as they are all very chatty and cheery.

Especially his two uncles Elladan and Elrohir and his aunt Tilda, like whenever either one of them are around he can kiss peace and quiet goodbye for at least a few days. It’s even worse when it’s all three.

Geral’t strange magic became a problem early on, as it was very unpredictable. He could do more simple things like start fires and create a protective shield, but also literally manipulate minds, which was not a pleasant thing, especially as he had a hard time controlling it in his youth.

Gandalf tried his best to teach the boy to control his magic, and he did manage to get a hang of it, but sometimes it could still act out in his adulthood when he felt particularly stressed out or angry.

That wasn’t the only problem that came with Geralt being of unknown origin, as sometimes Aragorn and Legolas didn’t know how to properly raise the boy, and what he really needed.

For example, when Geralt was around seven he fell ill. And with that I mean really ill, many feared that he would not survive.

Both Legolas and Aragorn were devastated and the former spent nearly all his time holding and cuddling his shaking and whimpering baby who was in too much pain for the caring parent to handle, and he started to stop eating just to always be able to be by his son’s side.

Aragorn couldn’t afford to drop all of his duties as king, even though he wanted to, but his mind was very absent during everything he did that did not involve caring for Geralt.

Geralt eventually got better, thankfully, but neither Aragorn nor Legolas would ever forget the fear they had felt for almost five months of their still small and fragile son being so close to death.

Geralt’s magic wasn’t only a bunch of negative stuff, it did also come to some benefits in his youth, especially when it came to worrying his Ada.

At around nine Geralt found out that he could temporarily vanish, aka become invisible, if he focused on it enough, which meant that his parents were forced to place a bell on him just to make out where he was. He took it off quite often and would usually be hanging around his frantic Ada, sipping his juice box and watch the scene unfold,

(And I know that’s not really in the Witcher canon, but I just thought it would be cute and this is my AU so fuck off)

Not too long after Geralt got a half elf cousin by the name of Brand, at at first he was confused by the small thing and why he was supposed to care, but as Brand grew older and learned to sit up and make noise, Geralt hated the small thing and just wished for it’s demise. It did not help that his parents loved the kid and would gladly babysit when the thing’s parents were busy, which meant he was forced to be around it.

When Geralt turned twenty two he left Gondor to find his own path (Much to his Ada’s terror because there’s so many ways for him to get hurt Aragorn how are you so calm about this), only equipped with the bare essentials for a life on the road, including a mare he named Roach, a descendant of Brego.

Geralt was very quick to pick up on his father’s habit of having conversations with his horse, and Roach was quite a good listener.

Geralt found his purpose when a child ran up to him while in a village and asked if he could slay the monster that had killed his sister in exchange for money, as his family had seen his swords.

Geralt complied, partly because he could need the money and partly because it would be nice to help, even though his facial expression remained a grim scowl.

And after killing the thing and nearly dying himself in the process, he figures that he needs to do some research on different types of monsters and how to beat take them down before he starts going about.

He also starts carrying potions with him that he acquires from mages and witches across Middle Earth, just to make it easier to hunt and to heal himself after the fact.

But it is not everyone who appreciates his help unfortunately, as many turn him down just by his strange and uncanny appearance, and by his grim attitude that often scare people off.

It does not help that he introduces himself as Geralt of Rivia instead of Geralt Greenleaf of Gondor, just so people wouldn’t know who he was and treat him differently, but it does result in people having no idea he’s the son of a king and a crown prince so they treat him like shit if they want to.

It does not get better by the events in Blaviken, that Geralt would rather not speak off, especially to his parents.

It is first when he meets a young cheery bard that reminds him of an annoying bird that people start to respect him more, after the bard creates a ballad about him.

(Toss a coin would obviously sound a little different since in this AU the term ‘Witcher’ doesn’t exist and I doubt he would “Thrust every elf far back on the shelf” if he himself is part elf by adoption, but it is till toss a coin)

And both Aragorn and Legolas are just delighted at hearing the song because they are just so happy for their son, if not a little confused on why he is called Geralt of Rivia, but still yay!

(The bardlings love singing it together when they are around each other, as they love their nephew and is also all music loving people)

There’s also the mage that he encounters from time to time (And with encounter I mean they fuck, because well, Geralt is related to both Legolas and Tilda after all), whom the Bard, Jaskier, hates.

And then he gets an invitation to the wedding of Arwen and Éowyn while around both Jaskier and the mage, Yennefer, and they both are just as confused because “Wait you have a family?”

And the minute they find out about Geralt’s large, loud and quite famous and royal family, they are both pestering him about following to the wedding because they want to meet the people who raised Geralt, and he gives in after a lot of nagging and begging.

So when Geralt shows up in Rivendell with a brightly dressed bard and a gothic mage, well let’s just say it’s interesting.

Legolas is delighted that his little Gerry has made some friends while also checking on him that he is alright and Geralt hates in while Yen and Jaskier are having a blast.

Jaskier is really smug about the fact that Geralt is actually related to a bard in a way, with his Ada’s step siblings mother being one, and the three take after her with their own musical talent.

Jaskier and Sigrid gush a lot about different songs together.

And Tilda is just shamelessly flirting with the sexy gothic mage while Geralt regrets every single decision he’s ever made.

And of course Brand is there being an asshole while flirting with Jaskier, and again, Geralt regrets everything.

A betting pool is set up on who they think Geralt will end up with, Jaskier or Yennefer.

Geralt just craves death.

***

I tried to incorporate as much of the Witcher lore as I could, but I also had to take into account how Middle Earth works, which is very hard.

I mean, one is Polish and the other from New Zealand.

I don’t know what Geralt is supposed to be exactly, maybe some sort of Fae or Elf half breed, or maybe he is a mutant like the actual Witcher’s.

Anyways, this was fun, and I really wanna make more of this AU, because I love it. It’s not canon in my Universe though, sadly, because it just wouldn’t work.

[sylvanfreckles]

Day Nine: Midwinter

Fandom: The Lord of the Rings (Over the Mountain and Through the Wood)

Summary: Aragorn arrives at Thranduil's palace to celebrate the mindwinter feast with Legolas.

(Note: I have an upcoming series called "Over the Mountain and Through the Wood" that's basically a fantasy adventure series of Legolas and Aragorn's adventures in Middle-Earth. It's less angsty than the Mellon Chronicles, and has a lot of headcanon I've developed. I'll list the ones from this story at the end.)

* * *

“Aragorn! You made it!” Legolas held his arms out in a welcoming gesture as he swept into the room. “Old Bellyacher thought for sure the storm would keep you away. You earned me a new belt, my friend.”

The ranger let out a snort of laughter at his friend's antics. “Your brother was betting against me?” The thought of Belegdur, Legolas's stern older brother, doing something as trivial as betting whether a guest would arrive before a winter storm seemed uncharacteristic.

“Well, he doesn't know about your winter horse,” Legolas explained. He folded his arms and leaned against the wall, watching the attendant take Aragorn's wet and muddy boots and cloak away to be cleaned and dried. The ranger was now wearing a pair of stiff, soft-soled leather shoes like most of the inhabitants of Thranduil's keep. Not that boot were forbidden, but tramping around an underground fortress in wet footwear was distinctly uncomfortable.

“And you didn't tell him about Song,” Aragorn guessed. For most of the year he rode a bay gelding that had been a gift from his foster father, Eldrond of Rivendell. But in the winter, when the snows of the north washed up in drifts as high as a man's head, most of the rangers turned to the sturdy, powerful animals favored by the local farmers. Song of Thunder was a tall, broad-shouldered mare with the strong build of her sires, a thick mane and tail, and long forelocks that nearly brushed the ground. The war horses of the north were not as fast as the steeds of Rohan, but they were strong and dependable and much more suited for the perilous winter weather.

“Why would I give away my advantage?” his friend asked, pulling Aragorn into an embrace. “Besides, he hated that belt and I needed a gift for Bard next time I go to Dale. Now everyone's happy.”

Aragorn shook his head and looped his pack over one shoulder. “Even Belegdur.”

“He's happy in his way,” Legolas replied airily, leading the way through the halls to the chambers that were reserved for Aragorn's visits. The ranger looked around happily, admiring the palace of the Elvenking in winter. Bright-colored tapestries were hung on the walls to block the chill in the stone and fires were lit in every hearth. The wood-elves moved into the palace for the long, bitter winter, and thus the halls were filled with merry voices and laughter.

“I had hot water sent up,” the elf added as they reached Aragorn's room. “You can wash and change before we join my father and the others.”

“Thank you,” Aragorn's shoulders relaxed in relief when he entered the room. The fire was burning to warm the chamber, and the walls were blanketed in swirling designs of blue and silver, as a nod to the household of Elrond. “That one's new,” he remarked, nodding at one of the tapestries. It was of a silvery tree, with stars peering out through the gaps between its branches.

“Ah, yes. Tathariel's betrothed made that,” Legolas called, as Aragorn slipped behind the room's dressing screen. There was a basin of steaming water next to a small table, where towels and a shaving razor had been laid out.

“Tathariel?” Aragorn frowned to himself. He remembered the name, but not the elf in question.

“She works the northern watch patrol. I think you've met her.”

Aragorn nodded silently. He wiped off the dust and sweat of travel—the palace had indoor baths, but they were not in use at this time of day, so this would have to be enough—and quickly scraped away the stubble on his chin and cheeks. He would have to hope the clothes in his pack weren't too wrinkled...though he doubted there was anything to match the finery of court. Legolas had assured him that the midwinter celebrations were not a formal event, and he wanted to trust his friend...but an elf's definition of “not formal” might not be in line with that of a ranger's.

He stepped back around the screen, wiping the last of the water off his face. Legolas had been busy laying clothes out on the bed—trousers, shirt, and tunic. Not anything Aragorn had packed for the journey, and he approached the bed to stare down at the clothes worriedly.

There was no getting around it. He and Legolas just weren't the same size. While Aragorn was trim and fit for a human, he still had the broad-shouldered build of a man of Numenor, and Legolas had the willowy grace of an elf of Mirkwood.

“Don't look like that,” Legolas teased, flicking him on the arm with the backs of his fingers. “Father had these made for you, to keep in the palace here. He didn't want you to worry about something as trivial as clothes when you visit us.”

Aragorn sucked in a breath, glancing over at his friend. Legolas smiled fondly at him and nodded at the clothes before turning to Aragorn's pack to unload it. “Wear them well, Ranger. We do not dress all of our visitors so grandly.”

The clothes were made in the fashion of the men of Dale. A hip-length wool tunic over a loose linen shirt, both dyed in deep blue and gray. The breeches were black, and they were wool as well, which always felt a little...fragile...to Aragorn after the leathers he wore for the rangers.

“What's this?” Legolas's puzzled voice pulled Aragorn out of his thoughts. He turned around in time to see the elf pull a fabric-wrapped bundle out of the pack and lunged for it with a yelp.

“That's nothing!” Aragorn protested. Legolas held the bundle away, mischief lighting in his blue eyes.

“Nothing? It doesn't look liked nothing.”

“Give it back!”

“Doesn't feel like nothing,” Legolas hefted it in his hand a few times, easily dancing out of Aragorn's reach, then lifted it to his face for an exaggerated sniff. “Smells like leather, not nothing. I think you're lying, Ranger.”

“Legolas!” Aragorn lunged, managing to get one arm around the elf's waist. Legolas gave a shout and tossed the bundle to one side, and Aragorn managed to push the elf over before diving to catch the bundle up and hide it behind his back.

“Come now, Aragorn,” Legolas protested with a laugh. “Why so secretive?”

The heat was rising in Aragorn's cheeks and he looked down, refusing to meet his friend's merry eyes. “It's just nothing.”

“If it's nothing than you can let me see it, hmm?”

Aragorn backed away until his legs hit the bed. He was conscious of his half-dressed state—he hadn't quite managed to pull the linen shirt over his head before Legolas had found the bundle. He wouldn't be able to make a run out of the palace like this, shirtless and clad only in wool breeches and a pair of soft-soled elven shoes.

“All right,” Legolas raised his hands, laughing. “If it's so important to you, Aragorn.”

It was important. It was also embarrassing and so, so stupid. Why had he done it? It wasn't like gift-giving was a particular tradition among the elves...not for midwinter, anyway. That was a human thing, and as close as he and Legolas were the elf was still an elf.

“It's a gift,” he finally admitted, holding the bundle of fabric out. “The rangers have a tradition of exchanging gifts for midwinter. I brought...this is for you.”

Legolas's eyebrows shot up in surprise, but to Aragorn's relief he took the bundle without another word. Quietly, almost solemnly, the elf unrolled the plain fabric to reveal a pair of leather bracers. “These are for me?”

“I had them made. They're...” Aragorn's voice trailed off. He felt small, and ignorant, and far too young. Who was he to think an elf would appreciate a gift from a mortal?

But Legolas was studying the bracer's closely, holding them up so that the firelight caught the grooves of the tooled leather. “This is when we first met!” he exclaimed, a pleased smile lighting up his face.

Aragorn relaxed a little, half-sitting on the bed. The design had taken some time, many long nights spent with the rangers' armorer working out the pattern to apply to the bracers. At the cuff against the wrist were two figures, one with a sword and one with a bow, while at the elbow's end an avalanche tumbled down the side of a snow-covered mountain. Midway down the mountain the rolling snow became the heads of snarling wolves, all intent on charging the two figures at the far end of the bracer.

“Aragorn, these are wonderful!” Legolas exclaimed. “The craftsmanship is excellent—why were you so shy about this, my friend?”

He studied the floor for a moment. “It seemed...it's a ranger tradition, Legolas. I wasn't sure if it was appropriate.”

Legolas threw his head back with a laugh. He dug a hand into the pocket of his tunic and pulled something out, flipping it toward Aragorn. “I was planning on pinning this to your cloak before it was returned to you, then marveling over it the next time you put your cloak on.”

Aragorn caught the small, silvery object and cradled it in the palm of his hand. It was a cloak pin, in dark silver. It was shaped like a leaf, but the intricate design was of a sprawling tree with bare branches reaching toward the sky. Just at the top, an eagle was flying over the tree with a star clasped in its talons.

It wasn't the tree, but it was close enough for those who knew. Aragorn felt himself swallowing back a tear, and looked up at his friend in gratitude.

“Did you think rangers were the only ones who gave gifts at midwinter?” Legolas teased. “Now, come. Dress yourself, Aragorn. Tonight we feast and sing and laugh at bleak midwinter!”

* * *

So. Wanna hear all about how Legolas and Aragorn fought an avalanche full of angry wolves?

Headcanon: 1) Legolas has an older brother named Belegdur. He's a throwback to when I was first writing LOTR fanfic. The two brothers look a lot like their father, except Belegdur has green eyes like Thranduil and Legolas has blue eyes like their mother 2) Aragorn and the other rangers ride draft horses in the winter. Think of the horses in Skyrim. Song of Thunder's name is based on the naming conventions my ex used to talk about for thoroughbreds, where part of one of the parents' names is including in the offspring's names 3) the tapestries on the walls is based off my first apartment, where I couldn't afford to keep the heat up very high. I figured out that hanging blankets on the walls blocked a lot of the chill and kept things warmer. 4) The Mirkwood elves have houses outside the palace, but in winter they all move into the palace to stay warm and share provisions. It's been a while since I read The Hobbit but I know the palace was described as the fortress of Thranduil's people 5) Legolas's mother is not dead, she sailed into the west with Celebrian because they were friends, and she chose to offer her companionship until their husbands could join them again. Thranduil accepted this at first, but his anger built until he shut Mirkwood off from the rest of Middle-Earth. So the fact that he had some clothes made for Aragorn shows that he's trying to move forward.

Please leave a like or a comment! I had a shit day at work or I wouldn’t ask, haha.

* * *

Next time: Sweater - "You traitor!"

* * *

Day Eight - Master List - Day Ten

[demigodsanswer]

Clarisse & The Lord of the Rings

“War must be, while we defend our lives against a destroyer who would devour all; but I do not love the bright sword for its sharpness, nor the arrow for its swiftness, nor the warrior for his glory. I love only that which they defend.” 

When she was 12, Chiron noticed that she was the only year-round Ares girl. He pulled her aside one day and offered her a room in the Big House for herself, figuring she could use some privacy and alone time from her brothers. 

The room had a small TV and DVD player in it, and she had the only key to the room. She could use it when ever she wanted, as long as it wasn’t during training or school work. 

That’s where she found The Lord of the Rings extended edition DVDs. She watched all of them in two days. 

She cried when Boromir died, but nothing prepared her for the raw emotion of this scene from The Two Towers . She thinks about this scene constantly, and it’s probably her favorite scene from any of the movies in the long term. The only scene that rivals it is the Battle for Osgiliath in The Return of the King. 

What really fucked her up though, was the Battle for Osgiliath/Pippin’s song from Return of the King. That scene made her realize, more than anything she’d encountered before, the ways in which war, while it can sometimes be comprised of glorious moments of good triumphing over evil, it could also be comprised of moments of leaders gluttonously and recklessly consuming those willing to fight for them. 

After she watched all the movies all the way through, she asked Chris to re-watch them with her. He agreed, because she was his best friend. She didn’t expect to cry at all, because she knew what would happen, but she cried twice, once at the Sam scene in The Two Towers, and "I can’t carry it for you, but I can carry you!”. Chris didn’t judge her. 

When Chris was really sick, she would sometimes sing “The Edge of Night” to him, and it would calm him down. 

Chiron had large text print copies of the books, which he gifted to her. 

She read them all in one summer. She rereads them every summer. They’re ear marked and annotated to death. 

While she always loved Faramir in the movies, when she read his line: “War must be, while we defend our lives against a destroyer who would devour all; but I do not love the bright sword for its sharpness, nor the arrow for its swiftness, nor the warrior for his glory. I love only that which they defend.” She was so overwhelmed that she had to lie down. 

Tolkien’s ideology, philosophy, and stories have shaped her understanding of war, its purpose, and its consequences. 

Her favorite part of the main three books is the scouring of the Shire, because it is the part that helps her cope with the war the most. Camp had always been her home - her idyllic home where she could be herself, study at her own pace, and train as much as she wanted. But after the war, it had been changed. Thalia’s tree had been poisoned, people had died there, and it was no longer the same place it had been in her childhood. But she had also been changed by the war. Like Frodo, she felt like there wasn’t a way to remain in the place after a while - she couldn’t go home again. Unfortunately for her, there are no undying lands for her to sail to.

Her favorite book is The Silmarillion. When people (read: annoying Athena boys) question this, she just looks them dead in the eye and asks “Oh, I’m sorry, are mythological wars not in my DNA?”

She went to Tolkien’s grave once on vacation and read the tale of Beren and Luthien out loud and left flowers. 

Do not talk to her about The Hobbit movies or she will put forks in you. She was nearly kicked out of An Unexpected Journey when Thorin charged at the Orcs at the end because she yelled “THAT’S THE RINGrWRAITHS’ THEME!” and then spent a few minutes explaining to Chris that “thing mean things” and that “the ringwraith theme is a poem written by Philippa Boyens about the wraiths and then translated into the ancient language of man. It’s not just some random, intense battle music!” 

She slept through most of Desolation of Smaug. She was so out cold that Chris actually left the theater to walk around the mall for a while. He came back before the end, just in time for her to wake up. “How long have I been asleep?” “Since dwarf barrel boing boing. I brought you a soft pretzel, thought.”

She straight up left the theater during Battle of Five Armies when she heard Thranduil say: “Go north, find the Dunedain. There’s a young ranger among them; you should meet him. His father, Arathorn, was a good man; his son might grow to be a great one. He’s known in the wild as Strider, but his true name you must discover for yourself.” 

“Go north? Look at any map of Middle Earth and you’ll see that Erebor is the northern-most kingdom on the map. The only thing north of Erabor is desolate dragon territory. And go north to find the Dunedain? Dunedain literally translates to ‘men of the west!’ Why would you go north into dragon territory to find the men of the west?! And ‘there’s a young ranger among them known as Strider?’ The Hobbit takes place 77 years before the Fellowship of the Ring is formed, which means that Aragorn is TEN! When Aragorn was ten he wasn’t a ranger! He was living at Rivendell! His name was Estel! They didn’t even need Vigo to sign on to the project if they wanted an Aragorn cameo, they only needed some kid with black hair! And he wasn’t known in the wild as Strider! He was known in Bree as Strider, and he didn’t even like the name! This isn’t even deep lore! This is just stuff in the main books and appendices and the maps printed on every inside cover!” 

She has three (and a half) Lord of the Rings tattoos. 

The first one she gets is a pretty common design: it’s the white tree of Gondor with the shards of Narsil, but she gets the text “Renewed shall be blade that was broken, The crownless again shall be king” around the design. She has this on the inside of her right forearm. She likes this line because in the movies Arwen says them as if they are ancient prophecy, but in the books, Bilbo writes them in a song. It’s a little inside joke with herself. 

Some people have asked why she didn’t get the text from the ring itself, and her response is always “It’s an accursed language. Why would I want an accused language on my body?” “it’s a made up language.” “All languages are made up.”

The second one she gets on a bet. She gets a goofy illustration of Gollum from before JRRT republished The Hobbit to be more canon compliant with The Lord of the Rings. She has this one on the inside of her left arm. As goofy as it is, she does love Gollum as a character. 

She then has the door to Moria on her ankle. 

The half is her drakon tattoo. She has a tattoo designed partially after the drakon and partially after Tolkein’s illustrations of Smaug. The drakon is weaving itself through a hand, so it is proportionally very small. This tattoo is on the right side of her ribcage and was the first tattoo she got (Ares paid for it as a gift). 

When she was pregnant for the first time, she played The Lord of the Rings soundtrack and watched the movies a ton deliberately to train her baby to respond to the sounds. Her first kid ended up (by no accident) being calmed by The Lord of the Rings. 

However, her favorite book is The Hobbit, and she proudly proclaimed at three years old that she was going to be a burglar when she grew up.  Chris was very smug. 

(anyway, come talk to me about the lord of the rings @nohomo-mrfrodo​) (did I write this whole thing to go on that rant about that line from battle of the five armies. yes, yes i did) 

[gossip-girl-of-middleearth]

Elf got your tongue? (Legolas x Reader)

Synopsis: When your tongue gets stuck on a pole in some snowy slopes, and orcs are approaching, the Fellowship has to get a little creative to unstick you.

“What is it?” you curiously asked, staring up at a glistening pole.

Under the morning sun, the snowy slopes sparkled like diamond crust. Yourself and the Fellowship had trekked far since Rivendell, and you now found yourself climbing high in the snow.

What you did not expect, however, was to stumble across a tall, silver pole.

“It is a landmark, Y/n,” Gandalf answered. His tone was edged in both fatigue and annoyance, from his place at the front of the resting group.

“A landmark for what?” Pippin pitched in, walking up to stand beside you.

Your hands were on your hips, as you squinted up at the sky to view the entirety of the pole. You felt your palms grow clammy at the thought of the tall height, as well as the blue eyes a few feet away sneaking a glance at you.

So much for the inconspicuousness of elves, you figured.

Your heart skipped a beat, and you fought hard to play it cool. Although, your feelings soon won you over, and you couldn’t help but steal a glance back. When you did so, however, you caught the eye of Legolas.

He widened his eyes quickly, and cleared his throat as he looked away. You smiled at the reddening of his ears, and resisted the urge to grin giddily with a chewing of your lower lip.

“It signifies our position in the north, Peregrine Took,” Gandalf snapped again.

Pippin clamped his mouth shut, and looked up at you with a mischievous smile. You then both tried hard to not snicker at the grumpy wizard.

“Speaking of which,” Aragorn piped up, with a keen eye trained on the horizon, “it appears our efforts travelling north will not benefit us. Gandalf, would we not be better off observing our path ahead from atop the slope?”

“Perhaps…” Gandalf agreed. He ultimately sighed and began stepping up the steep incline of snow. “The rest of you wait here by the pole, whilst I scope out our path ahead. Nobody do anything foolish! Especially you three—Y/n, Meriadoc and Peregrine.”

In response, the three prematurely accused friends upheld their palms. You all shook your heads and gave promising smiles to the wizard.

He merely only growled something under his breath, before slowly tearing his eyes away and beginning his ascent.

Dropping his hands slowly, Merry leaned across to you. “Bet you won’t lick that pole.”

“Bet,” you confidently replied back.

Only one minute had passed since Gandalf had walked up the slope, and only one minute had passed since you decided to lick the pole. With one long swipe of your tongue, you were alarmed to find your flesh frozen against the pole.

Merry and Pippin thought you to be joking at first, until they caught the panic in your eyes. With Boromir, Gimli, Aragorn, Legolas, Sam and Frodo a few feet away commenting on the path ahead, and pointing out at the slopes, you and the two other hobbits tried to remove your tongue.

However, it was to no avail. You whimpered at the burning sensation in your tongue, and pushed the two boys away as they tried to pull you free. All they did was cause your tongue further pain, for it appeared no such unsticking would occur.

Legolas caught your sounds of hurt, and like a mother drawn to a baby’s cries, he threw his head over his shoulder.

“Oh my…” he attempted to say, before his sentence trailed off with a shocked widening of his eyes.

He knew instantly what kind of trouble the two hobbits had put you in, and would have laughed loudly had Aragorn not spoken up in alarm.

“Nobody panic, or make any drawing movements, but we are being tracked by a group of orcs—below the slope, a league or less behind us.”

“WHAT—” you had gone to say, but mewled instead at the stretching of your tongue.

Catching your oddly muffled voice, the five other boys turned to look over their shoulders.

“Y/n? Oh, for the LOVE OF—” Boromir went to curse, but was cut off by Aragorn instead.

The ranger flew forwards to assist you, and to assess the severity. “We cannot linger by the pole! They’ll be on us in minutes!”

You made another string of unintelligible words, but ceased quickly with a wince at the tearing of your tongue. It was stuck, and stuck good.

“We need to boil water!” Gimli proclaimed, already fetching a pot from Sam’s rucksack.

“There’s no time!” Legolas answered, eyeing off the approaching orcs.

“It’s been an honour knowing you, Y/n,” Merry joked, placing his hand solemnly on your shoulder.

He then made a move to run away towards Gandalf, but was halted by an outstretched arm from Boromir. The captain gave an unimpressed thinning of his lips, but was still looking ahead towards the orcs.

“Maybe we can pee on—” Pippin had gone to offer.

“NO!” you cut off.

“Well, how else can we boil water quickly?” Legolas asked in frustration. “It’s not as though we were born with internal heaters!”

At that, everyone went quiet. Maybe he was onto something…

The elf’s hands were on his hips, as he shook his head at the ground in thought and tapped his foot. However, upon hearing nothing from his friends, he looked up.

All eyes blinked back at him, even yours, as you stared at the prince with your tongue still out and stuck against the pole.

“WE perhaps cannot heat anything very quickly as mortals…” Aragorn alluded. “But elves have different bodily regulations.”

“What are you—oh…” Legolas began to hiss, before he came to the same realization as everyone else.

He looked at a very sheepish you next, and swallowed his nerves. Sighing and holding out his hand, Legolas motioned for Aragorn’s water cannister.

The ranger complied, and handed the lifeline over with an apologetic look thrown your way. Legolas then eyed off the canister with an apprehensive expression, but soon sighed after.

He began unscrewing the lid, before he discovered that all eyes were still on him. He narrowed his gaze and furrowed his brows, and defended himself with, “Well, I can’t do it with you all watching!”

Giving one more glance down at the running orcs, who were gaining speed, everyone but you and Legolas nodded and jogged up the slope to advise Gandalf of the incoming attack.

Left alone in the cold, and shivering for more than one reason, you tried to look everywhere but at the elf taking a long swig of water. Dropping the cannister from his lips, with a glance over his shoulder at the orcs, Legolas swished the water around in his mouth until it was warm.

Walking over nervously, Legolas kept a good few feet between the two of you. He then caught your eye and asked for consent. Sighing and nodding your head, you looked back up at him.

Nodding back, with cheeks full of warm water puffed out, Legolas, spurting like a fountain, blew a stream down to where your tongue was stuck to the pole. However, it wasn’t enough—more a trickle, really.

“That’s not going to be enough!” you tried to say—muffled once again, though.

Making a scared noise of protest, with his cheeks still mostly full, Legolas stepped in closer to you. Hesitating for a moment, Legolas lowered and lifted his head a few times, finding the whole situation very uncomfortable.

However, with the roaring of orcs nearby, he was soon reminded of the hastiness of the situation. Lowering his head to become eye level with you, and holding your fixated gaze, Legolas tentatively leaned his mouth in close to yours.

Only a few centimetres away from your stuck tongue, he began slowly pouring the warm water out from his mouth past pursed lips. Both of your faces flushed at the closeness of it all—something so similar in action to a tender kiss.

Slowly, but surely, the warm water—intertwined with good old-fashioned royal spit—thawed your tongue. Feeling it unstick, you jolted away from the pole. At the same time, Legolas quickly stood upright and swallowed the rest.

Stretching your mouth out and running your tongue all over the inside of your own mouth, fighting against the fact that you could taste him, you quickly found your words again.

“Thank you,” you forced out.

“No worries,” he replied, in just as much of an uncomfortable tone as yours.

A few seconds of awkward silence passed between you two, before the reminder of orcs dawned on you both.

“We should probably—” Legolas began, nodding over his shoulder at the awaiting Fellowship.

“Yeah,” you agreed.

With that, you both nodded at one another, before sprinting up the slope.

[salamanderskin]

In Imladris (Lotr, m)

Set pre-The Fellowship of the Ring. Lord Elrond's birth sons and fosterling return from a long mission in the wilds, and he is drawn to give Aragorn's mortality some thought. 

Whump, hurt/comfort, sickfic, fever, sneezing, injury, stitches, infected wound, blood mention. 

The wind in the treetops of Rivendell made a sound to vie with the rushing of the falls, uneasy, restless and unceasing as it worried at the branches and strewed the last of the leaves from the branches. They fell from the birches which lined the upper flanks of the valley in slow spirals like so many circling buzzards as they wended their way down from the mountainside and through the cool air to land in delicate handfuls on the grass that made up the gardens of the Last Homely House. Some caught in the carved canopies that sheltered the grove or scattered themselves over the seats of a stone bench, some drifted down to meet their own reflection in the still grey pool, to dawdle there until the current whisked them downstream, and still others lighted on the winding paths where they barely whispered beneath the light feet of an elven woman who walked there, her dark head seemingly bent in thought.

Lord Elrond Halfelven observed all this from the window in his study which commanded a view of  his house and the valley which sheltered it, and his brows narrowed with interest. He had been watching the phalanx of horses splashing across the ford before moving single-file along the narrow tracks which lead into the valley itself, their green- and grey-cloaked riders weary with many weeks of travel, their mounts burdened with longbows and spears, and his keen eyes noted that all those twenty of his house who had set out were returned. It had only been a routine party sent out to quell the goblins in the Misty Mountains, but many rumours had reached Elrond's ears that those who were once servants of Sauron were moving again, and growing in number, and he was not so arrogant as to take for granted a successful mission.

Of course, he had a especial interest in the success of this journey. Elrond's eyes sought among those dismounting in the courtyard for two figures of equal height and build, their hair like rich, new-turned earth as they lead their mounts to water- his twin sons Elladan and Elrohir. He saw also the elven woman in the garden glance up at the sound of hoofbeats striking cobbles and come swiftly to the two, embracing each in turn as a sister should. Arwen Evenstar, his only daughter, moved among the party, assisting where she could and offering words of welcome. This was well.

This was the last rider still on horseback, a little shorter and more muscled than the party of willowy elves, and by the stiffness in his stance as he dismounted, definitely human- his adoptive son  Aragorn was also returned. Even from his high window, Lord Elrond could see the way that his daughter's gaze was drawn always to this man in particular, and without understanding why Elrond found himself stricken with a sudden heaviness of heart though the man did not notice Arwen among all the bustle of elves and horses. He was glad to put it out of his mind to focus his intention on his sons, who would doubtless come straight to their father to report.

He allowed himself to pace to one side of the great room, and then to other, so that by the time he received the inevitable knock on the door he was seated in a carved chair, his hands folded expectantly infront of him. His twin sons entered looking travel-stained but no worse for wear, their eyes bright with success and pride.  Lord Elrond fought a smile as he looked at them- they were so like himself in his younger days; strength and swiftness well balanced with a steadiness of spirit in their lithe forms.

“Welcome back, Ionnath. I trust the hunting went well.”

Elladan came forward to speak for the two, as he was wont. “Very well, Adar. We routed great gatherings of orcs in the mountains and destroyed their camps, though they were very many. They are breeding again, and in such numbers as we have never seen before.”

“Then it is as I feared. Do not be troubled, come now and rest yourselves. We shall feast tonight to celebrate your safe return.”

“Adar-”

This time it was Elrohir who spoke, and something of the cadence in his light voice made Elrond ask “All are returned safely, are they not?”

The two stepped a little closer together as if shoring up against a blow.

“Aragorn took an arrow in his shoulder. We do not know if it was serious- he would not show us the wound.”

“He has not come to me or any of my people for healing.”

Eladan's dark eyes lit briefly with wry amusement at the vagaries of men as he said sadly “But that does not mean that he is well.”

Elrond followed the wend of his son's thoughts with a flicker of concern in his heart for his adopted son, so fierce in body and spirit and yet so delicate when compared to his immortal older brothers. “Your compassion does you credit. I shall go to him, at the very least to welcome him home.”

Dismissing the two young warriors to rest and refresh themselves before the evening's festivities, Elrond rose and closed the book he had been reading with a thoughtful hand, leaving his study to seek out his youngest child, wherever in Rivendell the man might have hidden to lick his wounds.

* * *

Aragorn was not to be found in the chambers reserved to him, nor in any of the wide communal halls of Rivendell where it might be pleasant to sit on such a cold  Autumnal evening. Lord Elrond moved intuitively through the winding corridors and balconies of his house, allowing his mind to calm and guide his steps to where a human man might seek solace upon returning home. His path wended gradually down from the treetop towers of the house and down the broad, shallow steps until he found his feet upon the soft loam of the forest floor as he walked among the great trees into which his house was melded.

It was never truly cold in Rivendell, but in the gardens there was a chill edge to the breeze which spoke of snow beginning to settle on the misty mountains to the North. It whispered in branches which were growing barer by the day, strewing leaves and swirling ash keys down to form a golden carpet which did not rustle under the weightless tread of elven feet, though they would tell the tale of any human's passing, no matter how wood wise. Here rushing of the falls and the lighter, higher voice of the Bruinen where it ran in the ford was muffled, and the gently folded hills of the valley created a curious effect so that the tiny trickling of the little stream sounded louder and more potent than those other, greater bodies of water. Elrond allowed the murmur of that stream to draw him towards the grove where the water poured itself into a sculpted pool surrounded by pillows of the smooth green moss which liked to grow at under the deep shade of the trees. With his green Ranger's cloak pulled around his shoulders he was difficult to distinguish from the bark of the great oaks behind him but sure enough, beside the lip of the fountain where the stream poured through in a silver thread, there knelt a figure instantly familiar.

The elf watched as Aragorn unfastened the sword and hunting knives from his belt, took a cloth dampened in the fountain and began systematically to wipe each weapon clean. Distaste rose in his throat as black blood was washed clean from the blades and dripped onto the hallowed ground of Rivendell, staining the moss, but Elrond held his tongue for the moment, content to observe the man in his reverie. Aragorn's movement's were slow and distracted and after mere minutes they ceased altogether as he stared into the middle distance, wrapping his arms about himself. His cape fluttered fractionally with some tiny movement which drew Elrond's eye- could the man be shivering?

Though Elrond's steps were elven-light he expected his son, of all people, to notice his approach, yet he did not. He actually had to speak Aragorn's name to get a reaction.

“Estel.”

Aragorn seemed to come to, and rose immediately to his feet to give a polite bow, shaking his head to clear it.

“Forgive me, I expected you to be indoors, with the rest of the party.” He said, and his soft bass voice crackled huskily over the delicate syllables of elvish words, sounding raspish and painful as though from too much shouting.

“And I expected the same of you. Did the hunting go well?”

“I- Yes. Thank you.” The man said distractedly, kneeling down to make a business of collecting up his weapons, weighing them in his hands and buckling them on once more. A healer's instinct instantly noticed that his movement was restricted along the left side, which he held stiffly, and the dark stain in the cloth of his tunic just below the right collarbone along with many scrapes and grazes on the skin visible around his clothing. Perhaps more worrying was the bruised shadow pooling under his adoptive son's grey eyes. The man looked as though he had barely slept.

Elrond waited for Aragorn to elaborate, but he did not. Though he stood straight as a soldier should before his captain, the man was swaying slightly and Elrond thought privately that Eladan and Elrohir had been right to come to him. He did wonder exactly how long the man would go without seeing a healer, but it did not do to play betting games with the health of one's children, especially those of the mortal persuasion. Luckily Elrond was not so elfin that he was above intervening when it was needed.

“Estel.” He said again, and placed a hand on the man's shoulder. As he expected, he felt Aragorn's body tighten under his fingertips and the slightest flicker of tightness around the eyes betrayed what in another man would have been a grimace. “Your brothers tell me you were injured.”

Aragorn gave a lopsided shrug, too noble to lie when pressed outright.

“Aye. I took an arrow to the shoulder six days ago.” He swallowed, clearly ashamed. “I was careless.”

“You are a Ranger, such things happen. Would you like me to look at the wound?”

Aragorn had to clear his throat twice before he could speak, his words punctuated with a tiny, restrained sniffle. “Thank you, but that is hardly necessary.”

“Indeed?”

“Yes, I -snf- took the arrowhead out and dressed it. You trained me in herbcraft yourself.”

Elrond took a moment to reply, instead looking curiously into Aragorn's face. It was as though he had not looked at his adopted son properly before. He did so now and came to realise that his own immortal lifespan had lead him to think of Aragorn always as a youth, and this was no longer true. His shoulders were broader than Eladan or Elrohir's would ever be, taught and sinewy with muscle, whilst his jaw had waxed strong, his eyes stern and already a little sorrowful. His skin was that of a mortal man, complete with two-days growth of beard, and that meant the paleness of his cheek was not a natural elven complexion but spoke of fatigue, or perhaps something else amiss in the young man standing before him.

Yes, there was pain from the injured shoulder in his face, but Aragorn son of Arathron was too stoic to let a wound set his features flickering with discomfort the way they were now. Elrond's acute hearing picked up both the uneasy rapidity of the man's breathing, and the soft, damp sound of him sniffing around fluid in his nose. Even as he watched, Aragorn's nostrils fluttered suddenly, irresistibly, and he drew a broad hand up to pinch at them. His eyes were downcast, embarrassed, and then suddenly flickered shut as the man drew a hasty, involuntary breath and sneezed sharply, shielding his face reflexively in the crook of his arm. “ihd-Ngkssch!”

It was a tight, helpless motion that seemed to wring all the energy from the man's body, racking through him though he tried to restrain it.

“... forgive me, please...” He pleaded, utterly mortified at the wet sound as he tried to sniffle his way back into composure. Each breath in merely seemed to make the itching worse, and before Elrond could so much as comment, it overcame him again.

“NgkScch! Ngksssch! Ih...Kscch! … ngh...”

He looked up afterwards with a low groan, gripping his shoulder where the convulsion had doubtless torn the healing muscles.

“...Bless you.” Elrond said at last, reverting suddenly to the common tongue. It seemed wrong to insist on the elvish when the man had just been overtaken by something so... human.

He placed his own hand on top of Aragorn's where the man pressed his own palm into the damaged flesh at his shoulder. Elrond's fingers showed slender and pale on top of his adoptive son's broad, weapon-wielding ones which were darkened by tan and by dirt worked into the flesh. His knuckles were skinned and dark with blood where the scabs had cracked with the sudden movement. He could sense that if Aragorn did not pull away it was only out of a sense of respect for his guardian's authority and race and he turned his head away, refusing to look at his sire though he submitted to the inspection.

“There may be some orc poison in this, still, or perhaps merely a fragment of your leather jerkin has been driven into the wound. Still, this is a good place to take an injury, if there is such a thing as good place for an orc arrow. It has missed your organs, your head, your heart. But it is a difficult place to keep still, and you must keep it still so that the tissues may knit together well or you will lose some strength in your shield-arm. Five days on horseback have done you no good at all.”

As Aragorn sniffed again, Elrond's wise fingers moved intuitively across the site of the injury. Where Elrond drew aside the cloak and parted the tunic at the neck to get a better view, the man's body clenched with shudders of cold quite disproportionate to his exposure to the crisp autumn air, yet though Elrond could hear the man's teeth chattering in his head despite his every effort to still the motion, the skin under his fingers radiated an unmistakable, sickening heat. The wound itself has been dressed neatly enough, but under the wrapping of fabric the flesh gaped wide where Aragorn had pulled the arrowhead back through, wide enough to require many stitches he had not had time to provide. The skin around was bruised and swollen, seeping fluid and a fresh, red trickle of blood where it had opened again, perhaps in the last few minutes.

“Why did you not go straight to a healer with this?”

“Please, Adar, it is too small a thing with which to trouble an elven healer. It's merely that I keep... k...keep...” He did not make it through the sentence before his features once again took on a tortured grimace, part exquisite irritation, part knife-keen embarrassment at his loss of composure in front of his elfin sire. “NGKSchh!” He bent again, burying his nose into his elbow and this time. Elrond could see for sure that the motion of sneezing was too fierce for the field-dressing to keep the edges of the wound together. “...forgive me.”

“It will not heal if you keep pulling at it this way.” Elrond heard the healer's sternness in his voice and consciously softened it, truly concerned for the health of his adoptive son. He gestured away from the wound and to the general area of Aragorn's face and throat, sensing that drawing more explicit attention to the mortal ailment the man was suffering would cause him to shut down.  “How long has this been troubling you?”

Aragorn did not respond to the question, but it was possible this reaction was caused not by defiance but by his distraction as he murmured “forgive me, Adar” again before fishing out a used-looking handkerchief that was stiff in places with rust-coloured blood streaks, and touching it shamefacedly to his nose. He blew softly, the sound betraying the thickness of congestion in his head.

“Estel. How long have you been running a fever? Answer me.”

Aragorn still did not speak, and the breath he drew through his nose was an unyielding -sgk- that revealed he was hardly able to get a breath into him, though he coughed again in the attempt.

Instead, his answer was to buckle at the knees, going suddenly limp as his eyes showed white and hazy in his head. Elrond grabbed for him reflexively, but luckily the rangers of the north were not ones for fainting, so that as soon as his knees hit the moss he came back to himself sufficient to balance his weight on one hand rather than fall to the floor. The sharp jarring movement must have been excruciating, and he hissed in a tight, pained breath through his teeth as he levered himself back into a kneeling position, racked again with those tight, juddering coughs.

Instinctively Elrond felt his hands drawn to Aragorn's face and he laid his cool palms against the fire at his son's cheeks, soothing him at the same time with his words. “Estel, you need only walk with me a little way and then you can rest. Come.”

* * *

Tending to Aragorn's wound was an ugly and time-consuming job, and Elrond insisted upon doing it himself. He had to draw a deep breath to steady himself before he could make the cut into his adoptive son's shoulder which was necessary to push the remains of the arrow all the way through. As Aragorn's head lolled limply in his hands under the influence of a hefty dose of pain-numbing herbs, he almost wished that he had entrusted the task to another member of his house. He had been a healer since the world was young, and all the virtue of the elves was in him, but that did not mean that he liked plunging his fingers into the flesh of his nearest and dearest.

Removing an arrow in this way was a routine procedure, but goblin arrows were evil things, designed especially to be uneven and brittle, the better both to be dipped in poison and to catch and fester in the skin. Like many arrow wounds the damage had been caused not by the blade going in but by Aragorn's haste in taking it out. If only the man had had more patience or the humility to go to another for healing, the damage might not have been so bad. As gentle, stready fingers drew the edges of the wound together and closed it with tiny stitches, Aragorn's fevered form stirred uneasily, his breath a congested rasp. Elrond had to wonder whether Aragorn had become so fevered because he had missed a small fragment of the blade inside his flesh when he dressed his injury, or whether he had made a poor job of tending to himself because he was already coming down with some mortal ailment. Either way it was relief to lay down the needle and ease his adoptive son's form back on the bed. The man looked peaceful, the pain held at bay for a few hours, but Elrond regrettably noted that as soon as he came to his arm would be a burden to him, and the order to keep it still and rest it even more so. The mortal ailment coursing through his limp form like a wildfire would certainly help on that score.

In a parting gesture Elrond laid his hand on Aragorn's forehead as he might have when he was a child, offering him the soothing cool of his hand before stroking slowly into the dark hair. He sought the bowl of cool water placed by the bedside and rang out the cloth from it to place on the burning brow, noting how Aragorn's features relaxed as he did so, even in sleep. He left the man to sleep, his elfin lightness of foot allowing him to leave the room as if he had never been there, although his mind was loud.

* * *

The feet of Arwen Evenstar were also light, so light that neither her father, nor any of the last homely house heard her passing. She moved through the corridors of Rivendell like a bird through the wide sky, leaving no trail behind her. She had been long with her Mother's people in the East, returning to her Imladris only for passing visits, and so the passages of her father's house were strange to her. It was instinct which guided her footsteps along the winding stairways past countless statues and priceless metalwork, relics from another age than even she could remember, as she sought the company of her twin brothers, and it was instinct which brought her instead into a room she had not visited before. In contrast to the light airiness of elven architecture in every room she had passed through thus far, the windows in this chamber were closed and heavy drapes drawn about them so that gloom prevailed although it was only a little past midday. A few slanted bars of sunlight made their way into the space, dancing with motes of dust, and when Arwen leaned her head in and made out the scene which they illuminated she very nearly retreated immediately for fear of awakening the sleeper there. However, she was very much her father's daughter, and when that sleeping figure let out a low moan of pain she could not make herself walk away.

She entered and gazed long at the man who lay on the bed, his left side well wrapped in bandages through which a stain of blood had steeped, very red next to the white dressings and his pale face. She recognised the mortal man who had been in the hunting party with Elladan and Elrohir. By the dark hair and beard and the nobility of his face, he was one of the Dunedain. She struggled for a name... Arathorn? No, it couldn't be. She remembered that the young man Arathorn was sheltered in Rivendell for a time but that was too many years ago. This must be his son. Her foster brother.

Arwen had no experience of illness, and little experience of pain, but she knew enough to be sure that the man was not just exhausted from the journey. Her alert senses could feel the fever-heat radiating off him in waves, though he shivered and attempted to burrow himself deeper under the covers which had slipped down to reveal some of his chest. The tautly-muscled flesh which rose over his ribcage was mottled with dark bruising and there were other grazes and scrapes quite apart from the wadded cloth concentrated upon the hollow just below the man's collarbone.

If he had been tended by her father than she had no fears for his well-being in the long term, but despite the heavy dose of analgesics and sedatives required to ease his passage through the surgery her father had performed to his wounded shoulder the man was clearly in deep discomfort. He did not lie at ease but twitched and murmured, his body moving like a ship at anchor as though he had a will to toss and turn but was checked at each attempt by the fierce pain of the newly-closed wound, and she wondered at it.

When the sleeper did not stir at her presence, Arwen allowed herself to approach him more closely indulging herself in the chance to examine him in every aspect, and what she saw troubled her heart in ways she could not precisely understand. Although she had taken him for pale in the face, his pallor was broken by two spots of high colour on his cheeks. His lips were cracked and bloody in the centre where he had bitten through the bottom one in pain or frustration.

“ihd-Ngkssch!”

The explosive sound and corresponding whiplash movement of his head into the mattress startled her so much that she took a step back, withdrawing the hand she had unconsciously extended to draw the blankets over him. She sighed out softly in relief- it was only a sneeze. It had happened without any warning and she fully expected it to have woken him, but to her surprise the man's eyelids remained steadfastly shut. Fascinating...

It overtook him again, but gradually this time, so that she had time to observe the chaotic flickering of his nostrils, the way his eyebrows tented together and his breath formed a questioning “hhuh” as the need to sneeze mounted, consuming him utterly although it failed to rouse him from his sleep.

“Ihd'NGGSCH! .. NNGSHH! ... ngh”

Again without waking, the man turned to smother his face into the mattress to his left, and Arwen saw a wince of pain pass his features as he wrenched at the bloody bandages at his collarbone.

It was clearly not the first time he had been overtaken with such a release, nor even the tenth, for the man's nostrils and the skin beneath them were chapped and sore-looking. And would soon be worse, judging by the dampness of them. The man felt it too, indeed despite the impressive display his nose still seemed to irritate him, for in his sleep he scrubbed it itchily first against the pillow and then against his bandaged knuckles. She had never in her long life carried a handkerchief, having no need for such a thing, but the thick, damp sound of this stranger's breathing made her wish for one to press into his sleep-slackened hand. He sounded awful, his breathing hoarse and his nose by turns stuffed and running so that no amount of sniffing would give him release from the near-constant need to sneeze.

She stood wondering a moment longer, but the wetness in the man's head seemed to be the final straw and enough to draw him almost to the surface of sleep as he unconsciously swiped the back of wrist at his nose. As his eyelids flickered, threatening to open, Arwen drew a hasty step backwards. She did not wish her unlooked-for presence to startle the man from his rest. Even if he was waking, perhaps if she left the room quietly he could return to his dreaming for a few hours more- she could see her father's healer's case set out beside the bed, it's scalpels and needles sleeping next to each other like miniature weapons of war, and knew that sleep was the greatest mercy the elves could give him at that point in time. Reluctantly she left the fascinating scene of his mortal suffering and turned for the door.

* * *

The afternoon sunlight poured out across Rivendell like slow honey, taking its time to make its way into the deep shadows that were gathering around the gardens of the house. The air held the smell of turning leaves and moist earth, the smell of things moving on and maturing, and Elrond was pleased to breathe it in as he returned to Aragorn's chamber a few hours later. There were servants in his house who would boil and bring a cup of this decoction to his son, but again he had chosen to do it himself, taking pleasure in the bitter, herbal scent of it and the weight of the tray in his hands. There was so much in the world that was changing. The shadows of the world were gathering and growing long and all that the elves had known must eventually come to end. Nothing would be as it once was, and so he took the time to focus on the small tasks which had been his everyday experience as a healer since the world was young. Tending his adoptive son would be a temporary shield against the tides of the unexpected.

Yet the unexpected found him even as he went to enter the sickroom, for who should be leaving it but his daughter, Arwen, who was so rarely in his house and never in this part of it at all? She smiled him a greeting, turning her head anxiously back over her shoulder so that the long curtain of dark hair shrouded her fair face.

“I was just meaning to seek you, Adar.” She said in a low murmur of elvish which disturbed the air of the sickroom less that the slightest breeze stirring the drapes. “That man, he-”

“-has taken ill, and it is a poor combination with an orc arrow in his flesh. I am aware of this. How is he?”

Elrond was answered not by his daughter but by a low, shivering murmur from the chamber beyond, followed almost immediately by a horribly wrenching “ngh... NGKtscsh!” It sounded as though Aragorn was no better for the time he had spent unconscious, but rather that now he was horizontal whatever had been brewing in his head and lungs had chance to settle and drive him to outbursts of fretful, frustrated sneezing.

The elves glanced at each other. Elrond's eyes were impassive, Arwen's somewhat disconcerted. That was only to be expected; it was rare to hear a raised voice in Rivendell, let alone one raised in unavoidable, undeniable discomfort. Discomfort was clear enough in the man's laboured coughing. Although that first release sounded as though it had ripped at the surface of Aragorn's throat, it was not enough to ease him and he was racked with them again and again.

“Ihd'Ngkssch!... …. hh... Ngkssch! Ngkssch! IKTSkssch!”

The unpleasant dampness of the sneezes caused even Elrond to wince, though the long, torturous breaths between each one were worse still on the listener, causing him almost to hold his own breath in sympathy. The sound made Elrond realise that Aragorn had been desperately restraining himself when they had met in the garden of Imladris- then his sneezes had been fierce but tight, swiftly muffled as he denied himself relief from them out of some sense of propriety in front of his elven sire. Now he was simply allowing his body to have its way with him, though Elrond could have wished the man had slept longer.

Elrond opened his mouth to call out but he was immediately hushed by Arwen's slender hand.

“He sleeps, despite it all.” She whispered, wry, then added “His fever is very high.”

“Understandably so. The fire will burn the taint of evil from his flesh. I have prepared a decoction which will ease his other symptoms when he wakes.”

He stepped towards the door ahead of his daughter but she hovered, hand still extended, reluctant to leave.

“You should not be here, Arwen.” Elrond said, though not unkindly. “This man needs to rest if he is to recover his strength. I will tend him.”

“Yes, Adar.”

“Do not trouble yourself. Go now to your brothers and give thanks that this kind of suffering will never be your concern.”

She left then, the hem of her gown fluttering behind her with the briskness of her steps, the cloak of her hair rippling.

Although Arwen was gone, that final thought was etched in Elrond's mind as he went to his son and readied his things to change the dressings on Aragorn's shoulder. This kind of suffering will never be your concern. She would never experience sickness, the discomfort and indignity of burning with fever, or having one's head bristle with pressure and pain. Though she could be wounded she would heal quickly, never needing to watch for the insidious creep of infection which was Elrond's main fear as he washed his hands before touching his son.

When he drew back the covers, Aragorn's eyes first opened a crack then snapped immediately wide as he tried desperately to sit up, right arm groping about him as though seeking his sword. Only Lord Elrond's weight on either forearm prevented the man from sitting and he pushed frantically against his father's grip for a moment before realising where he was. He came to himself and laid back down slowly, blinking.

“Adar, it's you.” His voice was a hoarse, painful rasp. “I thought...”

Elrond hushed him and touched his fingers to the man's cheek to gauge the fire there. Cooler, but his fever had not yet broken.

“You were dreaming.” Elrond made it a statement, not a question. “You are in Imladris.”

“I remember. I was not so far gone as that.” Aragorn said, but the tentative slowness of his speech gave that statement the lie, for he spoke as one who must dredge each word up individually from the murk of fever before struggling to remember what he intended to do with it. He lay still for a moment, apart from the slight wrinkle at the bridge of his nose as he tried to get a breath through it, snuffling heavily, and failed.

“Indeed?” Although Aragorn did not seem to recall it, Elrond had a clear memory of the man's weight on his arm as they walked up to Rivendell, and of having to call Elladan to lift his brother's limp form when the fever and the walk overwhelmed him. Still, that the man was protesting his wellness was something of a good sign- the injury had taken none of his spirit.

Elrond seated himself on the edge of the bed, blocking the man from rising.

“Do not get up, Estel. Drink this.” He offered the cup and watched Aragorn drink of it, spluttering around the liquid on his raw throat. “Slowly. Now, can you move your fingers?”

Aragorn's forehead narrowed for a moment in concentration but he clenched his left hand into a fist and relaxed it, his other fingers moving instinctively to the arrow-wound at his shoulder. He sniffed again, liquidly, and touched his hand to his nose. His apology came out as a “Please, excuse be” almost too hoarse to be made out.

“That is well.” Elrond said, of Aragorn's compliance, then “I will need you to lie still for some days until the stitches can be removed.”

“Days? But I must-” Though he tried to rub it into submission, his nose twitched again, reddened nostrils flickering with irritation. He turned away from his father in embarrassment, though it was less the eyes-averted denial of earlier then the expression of a man resigned to being confined to bed with a dreadful chill, more eager for the relief now than ashamed. He cast about and found that someone had replaced his bloodstained handkerchief with a fresh one, and not a moment too soon.

“NGKTssch! NGSSCHuh! … ah...”

It was clear that he was trying not to move his shoulder and yet the sudden sneezes ripped through his irritated sinuses with a force which made the muscles of his abdomen clench and twitch though he tried to swallow them.

“That,” Lord Elrond said quietly. “Is precisely my point. Lie still.”

Elrond sat with his son for some time after he had changed the dressings, rubbing the man's back to ease him through the fits of painful coughing. At times further fits of sneezing overtook him, but these died down as the sedative Elrond had put in the herbal tea took effect. He had the pleasure of watching the hawk-like keenness fade from his adoptive son's eyes with each blink until the man began to snore lightly through his blocked nose. Aragorn lay entirely still, his left arm set awkwardly to one side so as not to put strain through his injured shoulder, but the calloused fingers were relaxed in sleep, cupped loosely like the petals of a flower. On that hand was a ring and the emeralds set there cast a green glow on the white linen coverlet where the sunlight struck them. Elrond looked at it and sighed. He could not, even for a moment, forget that his mortal son carried the fate of a people on his shoulders, not even when the man in question lay passed out on a bed, his cheeks carrying high spots of colour from a fever that would not seem to break. Elrond placed his fingers to Aragorn's cheek, confirming, and pulled the blankets up higher over him before taking his leave.

He walked out of Rivendell as the sun was sinking below the rim of the valley. The last rays spread in a glorious smear of light across the sky, catching the rays from the falls in rainbows and gilding the tops of the ash trees where they shivered in the light breeze. Elrond noticed three figures standing together in the gardens, two completely alike, and he went to them, his heart lifting. Although Estel had been fostered at Rivendell, he needed to spend time with those of his offspring who were of his blood, who did not remind him with their every breath that they were to whither and die. He had sheltered many sons of the Dunadain over his long life whilst they lived and died as briefly as mayflies, but something told him that Aragorn, son of Arathorn, had a greater part to play than his adoptive father could understand.

Days were darkening but there were still fragments of light to be found before the gathering storm. Though Aragorn lay in a fever upon his bed, Elladan, Elrohir and Arwen stood on the grass of Imladris as the autumn leaves danced down upon them, and he was glad in the sight.

END.

[minyoonkeeks]

Pairing:Jin x Reader

Word Count: 4k

Summary: It was one thing to love him in secret, but when you think he might like you back it changes everything. (90% Fluff, 7% Angst, 3% I don't know what this is)

Warnings: None really, there is 1 mention of throwing up for like a second and a few mentioning anxiety but nothing serious

A/N: This is the first fic I've ever decided to write. I hope it resembles him a bit, but it was fun writing. I don't know if I'll continue either, I just hope I did Jin some justice (:

---

Becoming his friend always felt natural, kind of like mac meeting its cheese, or peanut butter finding its jelly. He was sweet, funny, goofy Seokjin. 2 years younger, but no one could ever tell the difference. He was smart, where it counted. He hated bugs, was extra competitive, and loved marvel as much as you. That made your friendship fun. You would chill in his apartment, play endless games of super smash, and compare recipes whenever you found something new you'd want to try. Because you came from different social groups, it seemed odd at first to your friends. They laughed when they couldn't picture it being real.

"No way _____! Do both of you just have pout monologues? Because I would hate to be in the middle of that blab fest!" Hobi joked as he pictures both of you endlessly going off on each other. You both have certain quirks and apparently over talking was one of them. The more you guys interacted when you were all together, the more your friends didn't believe it.

It wasn't until the first time you had all gone to the movies together as a group. Seokjin sat next to you and you could have sworn all the girls gave the biggest groan, making you turn beet red and Seokjin laugh awkwardly. But once all of your friends realised that's exactly what it was, a friendship, they were quick to stand up for it, because there wasn't anything more. Even when your girlfriends started noticing him.

Sometimes, a lot of times, being his friend was hard. He was a 10 everywhere he'd go, regardless of how nerdy he came off when he spoke. When he wore his dumb round glasses around his beautiful face girls would swoon saying that he looked like a lawyer. Sure, he'd never win with his dumb logic, you thought.

When he would have to attend a fancy dinner in slacks and the same blue button up with white stripes on the sleeve citing that it made him look longer even though you swore he was a whole nother you taller. "Look, you just have to go with me, no one else is fun, and they won't bug me if you go instead." He would insist, telling you his parents didn't mind if it was you going instead of another date. That would sting, you were never the date.

When he'd sit and play guitar to pass the time between picking you up from work and your coworkers would stare out the window and wonder when he would notice them. "How do you even function with him, ______? You clearly have the worst taste in guys if you don't find him attractive" one of them would say. 

"Yeah, sure, if you think gumby limbs are attractive." You'd scoff back, even though deep down you knew he was. Those were the most annoying times. Being Kim Seokjin's friend was definitely not easy.

"Hey, hurry up, we'll miss the next screening of Thor and I don't want to miss the credits!" Jin yelled from the lobby, making everyone turn and glare at how loud he was being, at least until they saw his face and proceeded to gawk at him.

"I know, I know, nerd. I don't get how you can watch this for the 5th time in theaters. Like you have a huge TV at home, why rewatch it here?" You quipped grabbing the popcorn from the attendant who just glared at you for calling Jin something other than Worldwide Handsome.

"I already told you, there's nothing like rewatching it with people who get it. And you know you get it or else you wouldn't have come with me anyway" he teased, making that pout that makes your heart flutter a little too much.

Those were most days with Seokjin and sometimes you couldn't take the stares from everyone. The ones that said "Hey why is that short girl hanging out with Jin all the time? He looks like he's babysitting." "Isn't it her though? She's the delusional one, he's way too good to cut her off though, I bet it's pity." You would overhear. You get it. It wasn't ideal for some tall, gorgeous albeit weird man to be hanging out with you of all people, but Jin didn't care because you were friends... friends. That's it.

And yeah, it hurt sometimes, seeing him go on dates, or staying at his apartment when he would tell you to wait for him, even though he was out with a girl 10 times prettier, he always came back alone. Always came back to you.

You had become a confidante for him. Someone who knew a little more, but didn't judge no matter what he did. You were the cool friend, the one everyone could depend on to be there, the one everyone joked to Jin about when they'd tell him to go look after his noona, and you, being as awkward as you were, always played it off when you'd see the pink hue in his cheeks. It never crossed your mind to think any different of him until your regular movie night Wednesday. 

You were binging Lord of the Rings on his couch, in your cookie monster pajamas left over from last time while you sat next to Jin, tired from working all day.

"I guess an office job can wear you out." He chuckled.

"Definitely in more ways than one. My brain can only take so much annoyance from everyone. I just need Aragorn to murder a few orcs and it'll make me feel 10 times better." You said yawning, while Jin just stared at the TV hands on his knees. He seemed out of it for some reason, but your day being as long as it had you didn't want to pry. Sometimes Jin liked silence, and this was definitely one of those times. 

As you watched the elves on screen, bow and arrow shooting towards the dark, you started dozing off on a pillow placed near his lap. You could feel his fingertips rubbing your scalp the way you had mentioned your mom did when you had a hard time sleeping. You could hear him humming a song, your favorite, especially because he had written it for your birthday last year. Things like this made you wish sometimes that people wouldn't joke the way they do. That it wasn't weird for you to be friends, because Jin got you. He knew you were quiet some days, and extra loud others. He knew when you just needed someone to lean on, and you hoped that's what you were to him.

And there in the quiet, as you were almost asleep, you heard him. Three simple words.

"I love you."

It felt surreal and incredibly intimate. But even though you wanted to look up and tell him you loved him too, you froze. Eyes shut, breathing heavy, and panic setting in. You didn't know what to do. You can't tell if he just meant it as a friend. And if he did then you'd lose him, the one person to make you feel like you belong when you really didn't. He kept stroking your head and you told yourself it wasn't a big deal, that you would pretend to sleep, until sleep became real, and in the morning you'd leave just as friends, how it's always been.

When you wake up, you feel really uncomfortable, not being able to get anything out of your head. Over thinking as always, and if this was any other situation, Jin would be the first person you'd tell. But that obviously wasn't possible, so you got up and grabbed you things, said an awkward goodbye and left him cooking pancakes for the both of you.

"Are you sure you don't want any?" He yelled as you were already opening the door to get out of his apartment.

"No it's fine. I forgot I had a meeting to get to and I have to go change and get ready. I'll text you later." You yelled back, trying to sound casual, and not like you were on the verge of throwing up from the anxiety.

You texted him that night and told him you needed to focus on work, that you'd have to go to a few meetings after and you wouldn't be able to meet up. His demeanor never changed, it was always silly Seokjin, always calm,cool, And sweet Seokjin.

JIN: Hey, no worries you're fine. I have to go to a few dinners too, but since you'll be in meetings I'll have to take Hobi or Tae, they're the only ones that like these events anyway.

YOU: Thanks, you should take that girl that you took last time though or you'll end up old and alone. :P

JIN: Maybe, not sure. I'll text you later though, bye!

It was fine right? You would be fine. And he would go out and be his normal charming cool guy self. Just like always. You just needed a moment to get back into the friend zone. And although you'd just lay in bed and lie to him about where you were, you knew eventually you'd have to see him. 

So the day came, well, he more so showed up at your apartment at two am and you couldn't really avoid him. When you opened the door, you don't look up, even though he towers over you. 

"____ what's wrong?"

You can hear the hurt in his voice as he says your name, and yet, you know that if you look up he'll see right through you. So you stare at his feet.

"Nothing just tired from work. What's going on?" You mumble, trying to keep your composure as you look up as him for the first time. He sighs and looks away, scratching the back of his head, trying to figure out what to say next.

"What did I do? Are you mad? I just, I don't know why you're avoiding me, and you tell me everything. So I can't fix it if I don't know what's wrong." He tells you quietly, as if he was reassuring himself to you. That your friendship meant more than just a few races of Mario Kart or a permanent plus one that he didn't have to explain more than just, "yeah, she's a friend." And everyone would just get it, no questions asked. 

But suddenly you were in his arms, and you can smell the fresh cotton scent you've become so used to. You can feel his warmth when he presses into you and you can hear his heartbeat pounding into your ears. 

It wasn't like you didn't miss him, you did, too much for a friend though. And how were you going to break it to him. That you, the one who's supposed to be the cool noona, who doesn't mind just being friends, was in too deep? How could you tell him so he just gives you time to be his friend again? Because losing him would be way worse than anything else thrown at you.

You squeeze your eyes shut as you wrap your arms around his torso in response to his sudden hug. It was second nature to do so, but this time it just felt like it was the last time and you wanted to hold on as long as possible. He brushed your hair with his fingers, and swayed side to side because he knew that made you smile. You took a deep breath, not realizing you had been holding it in since he had first leaned against you.

"It's ok, _______, hey I'm fine, you're fine, nothing's wrong. I know you need space sometimes, but I can't have you lying to me about where you are when we tell each other everything. I didn't mean to scare you. Hey, it's ok don't worry." He pats your head and holds you close realizing for the first time that you're crying. You clear your throat and back away from him wiping away your tears with your sweater paws, trying to regain a little sanity.

"I wasn't lying, I'm just ... tired." You tell him sounding coarse, more tired than you knew. "Work is overwhelming and I just needed some time to myself. You know me, I..."

"No, you don't,not from me anyway. You don't and I know because I know you _____, like the back of my hand I know you." Jin said, sounding louder than he meant to. Taking a step back and breathing once before continuing, "But, I get it. I'm not sure why, but I get that you need space from me." He looks down and sighs, making your heart break a little more each time. He pinches the bridge of his nose and you know it's his form of keeping a level head. He does it when he's mad, or worse, when he doesn't want you to see him cry. 

He looks at you one more time and you can tell. He's tired, and his pleading look is something you thought you'd never be the cause of. But, what's worse? Leaving it here, or telling him the truth and watching him walk out, for real this time?

"Just... give me 2 more days. I just need 2 more days and I promise I'll come back. I just... I just need 2..." you stare at him, but with your own pleading look this time, you words soft and sad. For what, you don't know. Maybe the end, realizing, it might be the last time he visits you?

"Ok, ok _______. 2 days, but when you come back to me I want to know. I really do, whatever you give me. I'll accept it, just like you do to me. No judgement, no worries. But please, 2 days, come back." He grabs your hand and rubs along your wrist, a sign of affection he was used to giving you as he goes in for one more hug. This time he holds you a little tighter, maybe even a little longer, before he clears his throat, takes a deep breath and turns to walk to his car.

You stare at him going down the sidewalk and breathe, 2, 3. He's almost gone ______, and then you really need to get your shit together before you really lose him, you chide yourself silently.

Jin turns and waves, nodding once for goodbye while he smiles softly. His cheeks puff a little in the lamplight and you can see a glare. There was no way he was crying was there? You'd only seen him do it once when you dared him to eat your grandma's salsa that had a little too much jalapeño causing him to cry out in pain. The confused look you had, made him stop for a second before getting into his car and leaving towards his home.

Lying in bed, you kept twisting and turning, feeling way too hot to sleep and nothing could fix it. You walk to the kitchen and pull out some food, but it just gives you nausea thinking about what just happened so you settle for the milk and cereal.

Why'd you have to be so suspicious looking? Like you did something you weren't proud of? I mean, being in love with your best friend isn't a crime, it's just, not common, especially between you two. You went over the scenario in your head again, thinking about what you should have done differently so you wouldn't have to tell him the truth. You look at the cereal and look at the almost empty carton of milk before you grab a bowl and throw everything in trying to stuff your face and forget. 

2 days, 2 days, to figure out how to tell Jin that you love him in a way that isn't the same anymore. And it's all his fault, his, and stupid Lord of the Rings, that you promised to never watch again if this didn't fix itself.

To say that you were productive in trying to figure out the best way to tell your best friend that you were in love with him was a complete over exaggeration. You lied in bed, eating snickers, listening to old Taylor Swift songs- that you hated, but Jin thought were cute, and cried into your pillow like a maniac. There were moments of clarity sure, where you'd write, or at least begin to write, Jin a letter of things you wanted to tell him. Maybe give him a pros and cons list of being your friend still, but you always came up short, Both literally and figuratively. It was frustrating because at the end of the day, Jin had everything. He had his best group of friends, he had girls fawning over him, he had a stable family, a bougie apartment, and a great job. All you offered were some really intense matches of Capcom VS Marvel, and we all know, Jungkook would be a much better opponent. But here you were, trying to figure out where you went wrong, why you had to take his confession in any other way than platonically, and therefore ruin your friendship.

Day 2 came by after a sleepless night. You called Jin and told him as cool as you could that you'd be at his house no later than 8, and to be ready with Captain America Winter Soldier because it was the best and he couldn't change your mind.

"Yes, I get it. Bucky is your dude, no need to rub it in. Don't forget though" his voice getting softer, "I miss you so hurry up"

"Yes I know, you can't live without me and life is unbearable because you have no one warm to cuddle to. Although, I should definitely charge for being your own personal teddy bear." You laugh, as calmly as you can, nerves on the other end running towards you throat to make you sound cringier than normal. 

7 o'clock came and you got ready. Jeans and Jins sweatshirt, not that he would care. Most of them ended up in your house and consequently on you because you liked that his long arms made the perfect sweater paws. You put your hair up in a bun and you told yourself once more through the mirror, "Hey, it isn't the end, everything goes, and if he does too, you'll survive". You nodded to yourself and put the best fake smile you could as you walk towards your car and get in, driving to your version of the end of the world.

Jin opens the door and his eyes light up in the best possible way. You always admired that about him, his true emotions always on his sleeve, and today, you hoped that his eyes would stay like this even after your confession. 

"You gonna let me in or do I have to shove my way through?" You smile as best you can, telling yourself, only a few more minutes until it's all over, just breathe, you'll be ok.

"Nah, you can fight me first!" he teased and went in for a hug. You inhaled his scent like it was the only oxygen you could ever need in life. It was odd, he didn't let go, and although you hated the thought of doing it first, you knew you had to, so you rubbed his back a second went in for the kill, tickling him in his ribs when he least expected it.

"Really!? Wait, no stop! STOP IT YOU WIN!!" He yells as he pulls you in for another hug, He breathes you in for a second, relaxing, "I really missed you. This was way too long, and I don't know how I survived without you" he sighed, his shoulders slouching into you, even when he could easily engulf your whole body in his large frame.

You blush pulling back and patting his arm in the friendliest of ways, "Back at you! Let's go watch Bucky be a beast!" Hoping that he didn't see you cringe to yourself as you said it.

What a dork, you murmur to yourself as you sit on his couch, knocking your shoes off one at a time. You sit cross legged on the sofa waiting for the movie to start before Jin turns off the screen.

"Hey" he says as he sits in front of you on the floor in the same exact way as you. You look at him, a sneer in your stare as you grab a pillow and throw it at his head. He chuckles as he turns away trying not to get hit. But as he turns back you can see the look in his eyes. It's the same one he had 2 nights ago, and it's the one you knew would come back today.

"Yeah, what's up" you tell him, tilting your head to the side,hoping he can just see the tension in your face and leave it alone.

He stares at you for a quick second, thoughts floating in his pupils about what move to make next.

He gets on both knees and gets close to your face, startling you frozen in front of him. You can feel him breathing on you, and you don't know why, but the sudden urge to cup his face with your hand comes out snd you're rubbing your thumb across his cheek. 

He holds your hand within his and closes his eyes for a second, and you can feel him shaking slightly. Is he nervous? Does he think you'll leave him on purpose? I guess it's now or never.

"Jin, I.."

"I know, and if it makes you feel better, I do too."

"Lies, you don't even know what I'm going to say. Do you always have to win? I mean I try my hardest and it's not fair when your fingers are longer than ..." and his lips are on yours, effectively shutting you up from saying something even more stupid than you already had.

You look around the room, feeling like it's spinning, holding on for dear life to his sweater collar because if you let go you'd collapse. 

You close your eyes and and scrunch your face trying to burn it into your memory. A kiss, that's all this is, but it's not. It's his kiss. It's dorky, nerdy, handsome, beautiful Jin's kiss and it's perfect, just like him.

You slowly wrap your hands around his neck as he breathes you in, turning slightly so you can be more comfortable and pulls back to smile at your dumbfounded face. You keep your eyes closed hoping it wasn't just a figment of your imagination before you hear him chuckle, his stupid Jin chuckle.

"What? Why are you laughing? Is this funny to you? How?! How rude" you aim to slap his arm, but he catches it and grabs you by the waist pulling you in for a hug.

"Don't ever do that again, you promise? It wasn't fun, and I don't know if I scared you when I told you I love you because I thought you were sleeping, but I really meant it." Jin kisses your collarbone as he nuzzles into your neck.

"I didn't know, I really didn't, but I'm glad I do now. This anxiety was killing me, and literally the only person I could tell was Tae and we all know how weird he gets when we talk about our feelings. I mean, remember that one time I-"

"Just, here, -" He places another kiss on your lips, then your cheeks, your nose, and your forehead, effectively making you mush. "At least now I know how to really shut you up when you start your monologues"

"Oh shut up and come here" you smile and you pull him up to the couch and snuggle with him under the blanket. 

This was the one thing you didn't think would happen today, and although you lost maybe 10 years from the anxiety alone, it was definitely worth it, you tell yourself as you look at him while he's singing along to the marvel theme song. 

That's my nerd, my Jin.

[idjitlili]

Legolas x reader

Summary: being close friends with legolas , and joining him on the fellowship. But damn he gets too touchy , not that you didn’t like it.

Warnings: teasing,sexual themes, fingering , dick touching.

A/n i dont know what this is really. @tmbm123 requested it.i tried.

Word count:1759

You had been friends with legolas for a long time, you weren’t an elf , you were a human. Your mother was a witch but she would never hurt someone innocent,she had cast a spell causing you AMD her to become immortal. You had met legolas in Mirkwood forest , when you were young ,it did lead him to take you to his father. You only went into Mirkwood because you had wandered away from you mother and could find her. As apparently Thranduil trusted no one , after his wife died, he thought everyone who entered Mirkwood were spy’s.

You wouldn’t be surprised if people were trying to assassinate him, all he did was mock dwarves , sass, and pretend to be a princess. Eventually they let you go, when your mother came looking for you, turns out your mother was friends with the king somehow. Thranduil didn’t know she had a daughter.

Anyways after that legolas would come to see you often after that, you both soon became buddies, legolas helped training you. As Mirkwood was poisoned and there was evil growing, you needed to be able to protect yourself. Your mouth watched in awe at you and legolas training, even Thranduil did when you would go there. He didn’t really like anyone else other than elves, so it was surprising, he was a little jealous, missing his wife.

You and legolas would go adventuring around , for centuries, until 13 dwarves came to Mirkwood and everything changed. Legolas didn’t tell you about it , or them reclaiming erebor and killing azog until after it happened. He told you he was leaving to go in search of a ranger named strider and he wished for you to accompany him. You had asked why he told you about his father being cold ,controlling, and he couldn’t live in his shadow anymore.

You had agreed , bringing him into your house while you packed, your mother wasn’t home. You knew she would forbid it , not wanting to lose you so you simply wrote her a letter, leaving it on the table. Once you had packed, legolas led you to his horse, he mounted on it,holding his hand out to help you get on behind. Which you took jumping on the back with an ‘oof’ .you wrapped you arms around legolas waist ,blushing, you had been crushing the elf for a long time. You rest your head against his back, moving his hair aside. Legolas ushered the horse to go quickly before your mother arrived home.

“I swear if I lose my virginity to this horse ,legolas. I will cut your hair.” You whined, you really didn’t want to lose your virginity while riding a horse, he gasped your comment.

“That’s very dirty y/n..” you pinched him in the side , at his sarcastic

comment,backing him Yelp in pain.

“I mean riding it-fuck off. You know what I meant.” He chuckled at you before focusing on the road again.

Once you had met strider , he assumed that you were with legolas you both assured him that you weren’t, he raised an eyebrow at this. You and legolas became close to strider who you later found out his real name was Aragorn. The heir to the throne of Gondor.

Now you sat on a horse, that Eomer had given you , with legolas sat behind you and Aragorn on another horse with gimil behind him. It was like when you had left with legolas but he was the one with his hands around your waist. You had already found Gandalf today, turns out he’s Gandalf the white now. Anyways you were on your way to Theoden ,something about him being possessed or evil.

After you found out you would have to run in search of Merry and pippin, you had quickly cut your long pants into shorts with your knife. Legolas had watched in wide eye, he had never seen your mid thighs bare. Gimil and Aragorn laughed at legolas , who you looked up at catching him starring.

“What i couldnt run fast.” That’s all you said before you all started running.

Yet still now legolas couldnt stopped staring at your leg, with his head rested on your shoulder.You were focused on getting to your destination,when you felt a hand rub against your right thigh. Legolas had removed his right arm from your waist , leaving the other clutching onto you, as he moved his hand to stroke your lower thigh. You tried to ignore him, but then his hand traveled up high, on to your inner thigh, his stroking becoming harder. You gasp,”legolas not now please.”

He smirked at your response,ghosting his hand high and higher before it got to your moose,briefly resting his hand there. You frustratedly reached you hand back to above his knee squeezing it hard, making him remove his hand quickly. “As much as I want that not here.” You muttered not sure if he even heard. When you reached Rohan you had befriended Eowyn.

Then on the eve of the Battle of the Pelennor Fields, you know the place with the tents. She had forced you into a dress after confronting you on your feelings for legolas. The dress complimented your figure , making your burst look bigger and waist smaller. Not that legolas didn’t think you were beautiful anyways.

Eomer, Eowyns brother took interest in your humour and clothing before the change but after his eyes almost popped out. You about to walk to search for legolas and the others , when Eomer has approached you. “Miss y/n ,you look very beautiful tonight.” He compliments you sincerely smiling at you, “thank you Eomer.your sister made me wear it.” You has smiled back at him.

“Awe. Don’t tell anyone but she did the same thing to me when we a little younger.” He whispered, you giggled “how old were you?”

“18, she was 13” you burst out into laughter soon after he did too, unknowingly to you legolas had been watching the whole thing.”why did you agree?” You questioned trying to breathe,

“She’s very convincing what can I say!”

“I bet you looked great, next time you drsss up please invite me to see.” You smirked, only before Eomer could reply legolas had stomped over to you dragging you away.

“I look forward to see you Eomer in that dress.” You shouted to him looking back, he smiled at you , waving. He knew of legolas’ crush aswell it was clear.

Legolas dragged you Into a tent,harshly “what was that for legolas?!” You shouted angrily at him. He said nothing just placed his hand on your cheek and the other on your waist, pulling you closer. He leans down to your ear, his breath on your neck, his hand running up your side. “ you do it on purpose.” He growled, his eyes moved down your body ,”why do you have to be so beautiful.” He now whispered, pulling you into a tight hug, your breasts pressed against his chest. “Don’t you mean why am I so beautiful.” You whispered flirting with him, he grasped your chin leaning in slowly.

“OI y/n are you in here?” Someone called going to open the tent you and legolas separated quickly. “Yeah, i am.” You replied , as merry stepped in. “What are you too doing?” He asked , suspiciously. “I just came to ask legolas if he had seen any potatoes. I am really hungry.” Legolas smirked at your response, and merrys eyes lit up, “I knew you would want some potatoes come on I made some already.” He jumped towards you in excitement, grabbing YOur hand pulling you along. You looked back at legolas smiling apologetically.

After that battle , you all were drinking in celebration, after Theoden made a speech. Merry and pippin were dancing , Legolas and Gimil were having a drinking contest, which lead to Gimil passing out drunk. You sat next legolas, Aragorn infront of you both. You were a little drunk as was legolas; it made him more confident.

He spoke to Aragorn ,complaining about something you don’t know what ,you were focused on swishing your beer around in your cup. You hand had made its way on his thigh all night, eventually it was on his area , stroking harshly causing his cock to harden ,That was until legolas hand was on your thigh, going under your dress, on your bare skin. You gulped trying to ignore it, sipping your beer, then his hand gripped tight then let go to venture up higher. He made his hand right infront of your sensitive area, before rubbing at sonic speed between your lips. Damn he wasn’t even your boyfriend you face now bright red. You sipped your drink coughing, when legolas slipped his fingers into your wet hole.

“Are you alright y/n?” Aragorn hand asked concerning , as legolas added another finger, legolas acted like he was worried about you. “Yeah I’m fine , I think I am going to go , it’s too hot in here.” You tried to act normally, “yeah I have to agree with you there.” He chuckled, legolas curled his fingers in you, you try to hold in your moan.

You pushed legolas hand away , secretly before standing up , getting out from the seat. “Goodnight.” You spoke still red. “Wait someone should go with you.” Aragorn suggested,”I’ll take her , if you don’t made me living you Aragorn?” Legolas smiled at Aragorn, as he nodded his head.

Legolas grabbed your arm leading you to your chambers, as soon as bayou got outside , you smacked legolas. “What were you thinking legolas.” You angrily whispered, walking fast. He shrugged,smirking. “Why in public on horse and now infront of aragorn. What the hell we aren’t together.” He grabbed your shoulders turning you to face him before smashing his lips into yours roughly, biting your lip causing you to open your mouth allowing his hungry tongue,His hands around you waist tightly.

As you pull away he whispers “I love you y/n. Too be fair you did touch me first.”

“Yes I did but the horse thing was-. I love you too princess.” You embraced Legolas tightly.

“Come on let’s go.”

“Where?”

“Too finish what you started.”

[mysteli]

Endless Summer Imperfect - Chapter 22

A/N: this chapter is a lot more chill than the last few and its more about recovery and processing. hope you enjoy!

Warning: T

Words: 9322

ES IMPERFECT TAG: @princessstellaris@mechaspirit@xo-endlessmayhem-xo @endlessly-searching-for-you@brightpinkpeppercorn@aragornesprincessgeekymamma @justboredtrash@diego-vii  @indiacater@countrymusicandncis-blog @zigortega4life@nekkidmolerat @ravengalaxia@ladyseaheart1668@endless-jake@theendofallsummers

Masterlist

Imperfect Masterlist

ENDLESS SUMMER AFTERMATH - ENDING 1  IMPERFECT  CHAPTER 22 - LOST TIME

Jake

Hmm. Jake contemplates heavily as his cerulean gaze remains glued to the television screen, where the live news is currently playing and talking about a pretty significant situation. There’s really nothing else to do as they wait in the lobby of the motel they’d found in the most secluded part of London. In truth, they are all over the news right now and it’s vital that they stay hidden. Problem is... they’ve all been proclaimed as dead. 

They all had no choice but to flee the scene when the explosion happened because as of right now, the whole world and Rourke believe that they’re dead. But no. They’re still alive and forced to be on the run. It’s nothing new for Jake and he immediately suggested that a motel would be the best idea for a place to stay, since no one ever really pays attention to rough places such as them. They walked in and asked for a room and they’ve been told to wait until their keys are ready or whatever. Bet you the locks don’t fucking work anyway. 

But the goddamn news has been exploding with their death conspiracy story, with Rourke finally revealing his face and identity to the world and acting as a saviour. He did an interview with the channels and explained the situation, stating the ‘unfortunate accident’ that took place under his own watchful eye. The world pitied him and were overwhelmed by sympathy. Now Rourke is set to appear like the one who will save them all. 

Clearly this was his plan all along. To vanquish Jake, Estela, Mike, Diego and Logan from the world and his plans. Question is, why them specifically and who knows what he’s gonna do with the rest of the Catalysts?

There’s also a huge story behind the mysterious bodies found of the Vaanti. But the world doesn’t know they’re called that. They’re just seem as these unknown creatures that were involved in the accident. Some people have even gone far enough to assume that they’re related to dinosaurs. What the fuck?

To top off the stress of everything, Diego hasn’t been talking much due to the fact that he just lost the love of his life. He’s been understandingly silent and he doesn’t care to listen or respond when someone attempts to cheer him up. There’s just no point right now. He has a right to feel this way. 

Jake sure as hell felt the same when he lost Mike. Grief-struck and flooded with the belief that nothing will ever get better from there. His recovery took a long time to kick in but all the alcohol and drowning sure made it easier to numb and suck up the pain. But Diego isn’t the same as Jake. He’s not a coward and he’s so much stronger. Hopefully, the road of recovery will be a lot easier because he’s got people helping him move past this. Jake didn’t have that and now he does. His only wish is that he didn’t make things worse for Diego when Jake stuck a bullet in Lundgren’s head right in front of him because he’s aware how much Diego despises murder and death so his heart must be sinking in its own personal hell right now.

Right now, they’re the only ones at this damn motel which is great because no one will recognise them and they’ve trapped in this waiting room for god knows how long. Usually, you get the key and then that’s it but Jake has been overwhelmed by the sight of this fake news story that’s been plastered all over television. Rourke’s clearly playing a game and his plans are finally starting to pan out. Maybe the group has a small advantage with Rourke thinking that they’re dead when they really survived. It means he won’t bother coming after them so they can lay low for a while. They sure as hell cant stay in London however. 

Jake’s eyes don’t shift from the screen and the more he sees, the more his body tenses up with uneasiness. He tightens his grip on his wife as he stiffens and she tilts her head at him with concern, following his gaze over to the television. 

“Baby, you shouldn’t be watching that.” Logan urges dismissively, moving Jake’s head away from the screen by tilting his chin and forcing him to lock eyes with her. 

Jake lets out a frustrated sigh and he’s clearly offended by the way Rourke used his own death to make headlines. “It’s just fucking ridiculous, darlin’. I didn’t ask for this. Rourke has crossed the line now.” 

Logan raises his eyebrows at him, sympathising with her husband while also being slightly confused. “But, Jake... isn’t it kinda good that he thinks we’re dead since he won’t come after us that way?” She dares to ask and Jake’s flood with disbelief in response. 

He arches his head back and releases a slow exhale out of stress. “Maybe but he didn’t have to tell the world that were dead.” Jake’s mind drifts back to his family and he hates picturing the sorrowful look on their faces when they read this story and see Jake’s death announced on television. “What about my family? Fuck my traitor of a sister but... what about my mom? What would she fucking think?” Jake ends his shaky rant and closes his eyes as his doubts and fears torture his conscience. Logan leans into his shoulder and cups his cheek reassuringly.

“Jake...” 

“It’s okay, Princess. They thought I was dead before anyway. This’ll just be an confirmation.” Jake mutters, planting a kiss on his wife’s forehead and he looks her dead in her ocean eyes. “I’m just glad I’ve got you back. For good. That’s the most important thing. I ain’t ever gonna lose you again, you got that?” The seriousness of his tone is enough for Logan to nod assuringly.

“Of course, Jake. No more risk when it comes to us. I love you too much to let you go ever.” Logan speaks in a fierce tone and Jake can’t help but smirk at how sexy she’s coming off right now.

“That reminds me. I can’t remember the last time I got to touch you, darlin’. How long has it been?��� Jake whispers in a husky tone, leaning in so his lips are hovering over Logan’s and she bites her lower lip as a tension gets caught between them. 

“About two months.” She answers, her body reacting as Jake grazes her cheek with his fingertips but she sure as hell wants his hands in a whole lot of other places right now.

Jake is a little taken aback by how long it’s actually been. “Damn... well how come it feels like forever when I got to...” He trails off, his cerulean eyes darkening as he takes in the sight of her and only now does he realise how much desire he’s been holding in and bottling up. This seems like the perfect time to let it out. 

Instinctively, he plants featherlight kisses from her collarbone all the way to her quivering lips and he intends to build the kiss up when it arrives but Logan keeps it brief, leaning away with a weak smile.

“Jake... be patient.” She whispers, brushing his hair out of his eyes and his eyes her incredulously in response.

“Seriously? You’re asking me to be patient. Who the fuck can be patient when it comes to you?” Jake challenges and he’s about to go in another kiss but Logan plants a firm finger on his lips and that stops him in his tracks.

“Well then you’re just gonna have to learn then, Aragorn.” Logan tells him, dragging her finger over his lower lip and shooting him an expectant smirk. She shoots a quick glance towards Diego, who is seated on another chair with his knees curled up and his hands clutching them desperately. It’s like he’s looking for someone to hold or his dreamful gaze tells everyone that he’s reminiscing. Probably on the memories of Vaaryn and that saddens Logan so much. She turns back, her smirk now replaced by a guilty frown and she drops her voice to an even lower whisper, one Jake can barely hear. “Besides... I don’t think our PDA is gonna help Diego feel better about losing Vaaryn so can you just... wait?” 

Jake looks over to Diego, noticing how depressed the poor guy and he’s suddenly hit by guilt when he realises what’s really happened here. Logan got her soulmate back but he didnt and that make him a little envious of their reunion because he wasn’t able to get one. Releasing a heavy exhale, Jake meets Logan’s eyes once more and nods understandingly, sneaking a kiss to one of her fingers and she rolls her eyes at him in response.

Finally, the owner approaches the group and hands them three keys. One room for Logan and Jake, a room for Diego and a two bed room for Estela and Mike. There were only three available and they didn’t mind sharing so that’s what happened. Seriously how is this an approved hotel?! 

The five of them gather for one more conversation before they would head off to their rooms. They each grasp their keys and a moment of silence falls over them, as if they’re taking a moment to remember Vaaryn. 

Jake sucks in a sharp breath and suddenly swerves around to face Diego, tears rising in his cerulean eyes as he prepares to speak some saddening words. “Diego... I just want you to know that... I wish I couldve gotten there sooner.” He admits and Diego rubs his eyes, shaking his head at Jake and patting him on the shoulder reassuringly.

“It’s ok, Jake. Don’t blame yourself. It wasn’t your fault.” 

“But it could have been.” Jake counters, his hands balling into fists as his frustration with himself builds like bricks in his body. “I never told you this but... Vaaryn tried to kill himself while he was locked up. I... barely stopped him but now I can’t help but think it would’ve been better if he just... did it himself. You know, have the blood on his own hands rather than leaving it all over Lundgren.” Jake confesses and Logan wraps her arms around him in a comforting manor. Tears infect Diego’s eyes again and he can’t stop a river from pouring down his face. 

Upon hearing that, Diego hands his head, noticing how shame circles Jake like it’s haunting him. Diego exhales sharply and tries to act as a form of reassurance for the pilot who practically saved his life. 

“Jake... you just did what you thought was right, saving Vaaryn, and I don’t think you should feel sorry about that. Either way, he’s not with us anymore.” Diego mutters under his breath and Logan rushes over to wrap him in a desperate hug, trying to comfort him the best she can.

“Diego, were all so sorry we couldn’t save him.” 

“It’s alright. I don’t blame you guys.” Diego assures, burying his tearful face in Logan’s shoulder and finding condolence in his best friend. “I love you, Lo. At least I still have you.”

Logan leans away for a moment, guilt suddenly flooding her ocean eyes. “Just so you know, I wanted to save Vaaryn just as much as Jake. And I’m really sorry that...” 

“Hey, dont do that.” Diego urges, interrupting her before she can start placing the blame on herself. “You shouldn’t feel sorry for caring about the love of your life. I would’ve been the same.” 

Logan brings Diego in for another hug and they melt into a moment of true friendship. Once they pull away, Estela and Mike give Diego their own forms of reassurance before everyone starts discussing the plans for the day ahead.

“Alright. So we need a night to process everything that’s happened. Just get a goodnight’s sleep and we’ll all meet back in the morning.” Estela explains, her voice slightly strained due to her boggled mind at all the events that have happened. She was the only one that really had her head on straight during that whole rescue and her main concern was keeping everyone safe, which she almost did successfully. But so much happened to her there as well. Finding out her mother is alive and acting as one of Rourke’s puppets. Who knows what he wants to use her for? Probably his sickening excuse for an army. 

Mike glances over to Estela, sympathising with her situation and he’s almost tempted to give her a hug or act as a form of reassurance but in the end, he convinces himself to stay back and let everything sink in. He doesn’t need to add another weight on her shoulder about the question of what they are. 

“A good night’s sleep, huh? Haven’t had one of those in a long time.” Jake admits, running a hand through his greased hair. 

“Well, we gotta try. This night is a chance to recover but I know we’ll never forget about what happened in that hell of a place.” 

Michelle 

So still. Her body is so still. Quinn looks so peaceful in her deep slumber that it would be so easy to forget that she’s experiencing a life-endangering coma right now. Still, Michelle can’t seem to get her mind past that part. She probably never will, especially not while she sits here all night staring at a barely alive Quinn, who has fallen for so much over the past few weeks.

When Michelle was experiencing her whole pregnancy situation, Quinn was there for her and now Michelle believes she must be there for her. Because now it’s Quinn going through a tough time. So it doesn’t matter how many times someone comes up to Michelle and tells her to go home and get some rest because she isn’t moving until Quinn wakes up. Her mind won’t ever be at ease until she knows that Quinn is okay. It’s just not possible.

If Michelle can even be honest with herself for one moment, she’d admit that she is getting a little bit tired but she won’t let herself fall asleep. Not now. The night is at its full glory and that’s prompting Michelle’s exhaustion to start kicking in but she fights it off as much as she can. 

The bitter resentment of the disease that is trying to take Quinn’s life at this very moment is the most dominant emotion of Michelle’s right now and she can only hope and pray that Quinn finally wins the war and makes her way back to the land of the living. 

All of a sudden, the door to the room staggers open and Michelle snaps her head to idnentify the newcomer into this time of grief. She recognises the figure as Sean and she’s surprised to find him back here so soon, since she told him not to hang around and get some rest but when does Sean ever listen?

There’s a clear concern in his chestnut eyes and Michelle finds herself without any words to say to him. 

“Hey.” is all she manages to get out, trying to form the weakest of smiles but she can’t even do that with the way she’s feeling.

Sean approaches her with slight caution, especially as he takes her current weak state. He’s never seen Michelle like this before and she’s so wrecked for one person. It’s so clear what Michelle feels for Quinn and that only makes Sean feel like he’s standing in the way of something special when really he should encouraging her to look out for her health just as much as she looks out for Quinn. 

Once he reaches Michelle, Sean seats himself on the armrest of the chair, placing his hand on her shoulder and rubbing it comfortingly. He’s trying his best to be there for her but it’s so damn hard when the news of the abortion still looms over his mind. Can’t say anyone should blame him however. 

“Should I even ask if you’re ok?” Sean dares to mention, tilting his head to search her expression but he can’t see it while her head is hanging so shamefully.

A breathy sigh escapes Michelle in response and she runs a hand through her ombré hair. “I’ll be better once Quinn wakes up.” She mutters under her breath, her voice a mere whisper that Sean barely manages to hear.

At the mention of Quinn, his eyes snap over to where she lies and it’s almost painful to see her in such a sight. Sean has never really spoken to Quinn before. No one has really. She always kept to herself and never really connected with anyone, especially not the way she did with Michelle once they met. Their story has been brewing for months now and they became so close that it was set to be the most painful for Michelle when the time came for Quinn’s descent. 

“...How is she?” Sean asks yet another risky question and Michelle barely tilts her head at him, her frown faltering.

“Stable. Barely though.” Michelle responds blandly, the stress practically evaporating off her and it gives Sean an uneasy feeling. 

Sean notices how sleep-deprived Michelle is and his mind jumps back immediately to his comfort zone. Caring about other’s well being before anything else. “Michelle... you need sleep—“

“Quinn’s parents are supposed to show up tomorrow morning so I’m not leaving until they show up.” Michelle interrupts, determination flooding her features. 

“I’m not asking you to leave.” Sean corrects, stiffening as Michelle suddenly leans against his knee and he responds safely by slinging an arm over her shoulder.

“Sleeping still separates me from Quinn. And she’s not safe.” Michelle points out and that causes Sean to furrow his brows.

Come to think of it, Michelle has never actually told Sean about what’s wrong with Quinn. This is all so sudden. 

“Michelle...” 

“Yes?”

“...What’s actually wrong with Quinn? Her coma seems sort of... sudden?”

Sean feels Michelle shudder at his abrupt question but she quickly composes herself, her expression falling grim once again. “She has Rotterdam’s. She’s had it all her life. I found out a couple months back and this is the moment she’s been dreading for so damn long. This is Stage 4. A coma... and she may never wake up.” Michelle explains, her tone becoming more and more weak the more she speaks of the topic and tears swell in her eyes. 

Sympathising with her, Sean clutches her with comforting intentions, letting her cry into his shoulder and he tries to help her the best she can. That’s all Sean has ever wanted to do. Help people. Even if it doesn’t work out, he still tries but now he’s here and Michelle is someone he just can’t fix. No matter how hard he tries, he’ll never be an acceptable form of support. He’s living too closely to what’s expected of him and that’s perfection. Something he just can’t live up to. 

“I’m so sorry I asked, Michelle.” Sean apologises and Michelle just shakes her head at him with a clear defiance in her hazel eyes.

“Don’t apologise. I know how much you wanna help.” Michelle acknowledges and that’s when her mind drifts back to a memory that has become so neglected by her over her last few hours. She actually is consumed by guilt that she’s forgotten about it for too long. “I’m the one who should be apologising. I aborted our baby.”

Sean tries not to let himself be corrupted by grief then because he can’t afford to match Michelle’s vulnerability right now. This is a topic he has to fight with strength and deal with it with Michelle. 

“No. Please. I know I kinda scared you with the whole us not being ready thing.” Sean assures. 

“That’s never an excuse to kill a living thing, Sean.” Michelle counters, a river pouring from her eyes and once again, Sean realises that he’s not making this better in any way. 

Sean clears his throat and parts his lips to speak but Michelle shakes her head at him, signalling for him to let her go first, which he obliges hesitantly. Anything he says will probably make things worse anyway. 

“You don’t have to say anything. You don’t have to apologise. You just have to know and remember that this isn’t your fault. It’s mine.”

“But—“

“Don’t argue with me, Sean.” Michelle says in a pleading done. Who knows if those words were meant to come out as a command but her weak, soft tone prevented that from happening. “Just accept that. Please.” 

A moment of silence and contemplation takes over as Sean tries to process Michelle’s words. She’s been through so much over the last few weeks and Sean can’t even begin to compare to how much more emotionally strong she is than him. Sean is a coward, according to him. He can’t even accept that something isn’t his fault because lately it feels like everything is. All he wants is to tell Michelle she’s wrong and console her the best he can.

Alas, he doesn’t have a choice. Sean simply nods in response and releases a futile word that is accompanied by nothing but a mere whisper. 

“Ok.” 

Logan

Logan leads Jake into their assigned motel room by the land and opens the door with her intentions already clear in her mind. She’s never been more determined in her life to prove to Jake just how much she’s missed him.  He deserves to be able to forget about everything he’s been through and just enjoy this time of peace and recovery. It may be more painful for some but Jake and Logan are finally back together and that’s something worthy of celebrating.

They’ve barely made it through the door before Jake crushes his lips against Logan’s, having not really been given the chance to fully embrace the familiarity and soft taste of her lips. The kisses are not tender and full of emotion like they were when they first reunited. No, this is pure hunger and urgency, a desperation that’s caused by their dreaded amount of time apart. It’s been too long. Way too long.

Jake slams the door shut and grips Logan by her hips, pressing her up against the door and savouring the full feeling of his lips on hers again. All his thoughts have been on her and this reunion is better than he ever could have imagined. Logan winds her arms around the back of Jake’s neck and she lets her fingers drift into his air, occasionally gripping on a few strands and stifling a groan out of him - the sound like music to her ears. 

The moment seems so perfect and they’re both so ready to melt into one another again and it appears like it’s about to come true... until Jake suddenly pulls away, barely breaking physical contact as his hand mindlessly ends up fiddling with the hem of his khaki jacket that Logan still happens to be wearing. Logan notices an uneven conflict in his eyes and she cups his cheek comfortingly.

“Something wrong?” She questions, genuine concern flooding through her ocean eyes and she’s a little taken aback when Jake lets out a soft chuckle in response.

“No... everything’s fine, Princess. It’s just...” He trails off, his cerulean eyes burning into hers as he takes in her stunning features. Jake can’t seem to wrap his head around the fact that she’s really here. In his arms. “...nothing it’s stupid.” He backtracks and Logan won’t let this topic go easily.

“I’m not dropping this now. Tell me what’s wrong.” Logan urges and Jake knows he has to answer when he realises how worried she’s getting.

“It’s nothing bad, darlin’. I just... can’t believe you’ve been wearing my jacket all this damn time.” Jake finally admits, hanging his head as he lets out a breathy laugh. Logan feels her expression falling a little in response as she grips the collar of the jacket and fidgets with it.

“Guess it was the only thing I really had left of you.” Logan murmurs and Jake kisses her forehead comfortingly upon hearing that. He can’t stand seeing her sad, especially with everything she’s going through. All of a sudden, a memory ignites in Logan’s mind and her hand swiftly digs into the pocket of the jacket, retrieving a familiar item, especially to Jake. “Well... also this.” 

With that, she pulls out the compass, otherwise her Ember Of Hope, revealing it to Jake and he scans it intently, narrowing his eyes as if he’s strongly debating whether he recognises it or not. 

“A compass? What does that have to do with me?” Jake questions and Logan is slightly taken aback by his lack of memory.

“You really don’t remember?” 

“Nah. Lundgren kinda mentioned that when I remember everything, some of the memories I had when I was clueless may have gone away. Looks like this was one of them.” Jake explains, his finger grazing the compass and Logan simply nods, prepared to explain it to him.

“Well... remember everything that happened with the Ember of Hopes and all that?” Logan eases Jake into it and he nods, letting her continue. “...This is mine.” 

“Seriously? And you never told me?” Jake acknowledges, furrowing his brows. 

“No... I was kinda scared at the time.” Logan responds, hanging her head in a little guilt and Jake tilts her head back up by her chin, looking her dead in the eyes and planting a reassuring kiss on her lips. Feeling revived, she shakes the shame off and continues. “That’s not even the weirdest part.”

“What is it then?”

“After we came here, I thought it was all gone but... Jake... you had it with you the whole time.” Logan finally reveals and Jake’s eyes widen a little out of confusion.

“What? Since when, Princess?” 

“You told me you found it on the beach one day and decided it was important enough to keep. Mainly because, in your own words, it reminded you of someone you thought you used to know.” 

Jake struggles to process this. All this time there have been so many signs that him and Logan are meant to be together but what baffles him the most is how different his personality worked when he was clueless of everything. So much more careless but those little changes like finding that compass must have made his alter ego shine through. 

Logan notices how quiet Jake and she waves a hand in his face, trying to bring him back to the land of the living. “Jake? You okay?” 

Out of nowhere, a grateful grin breaks out on Jake’s features and his cerulean gaze lights up at the sight of his gorgeous wife. Before Logan can even process what’s happening, Jake sweeps her off her feet and kisses her fiercely, a determination flooding through him like never before. He steadies her by resting his hands on her thighs. She responds by parting her lips a little and wrapping her legs around his waist, as Jake begins leading her away from the door and towards the bed... if he can find it.

Jake suddenly leans away, smirking at Logan as his hands hook onto the khaki jacket. “Sorry, Lo. I know you really, really... really love this jacket... but it’s gotta go if I’m gonna fuck you right.” He teases, knocking their foreheads together and Logan just forms her own smirk in response.

“Can’t exactly argue with that then can I?” She whispers, noticing his cockiness and challenging him. Jake shrugs the jacket off her shoulders and quickly connects their lips again as they swiftly fall back into their desperate frenzy of passion.

This is just as careless and desperate as their first time. When their lives were at risk and death was an almost certainty. When they wanted nothing more than to be with each other and use their last night wisely. They were new to each other but they felt so familiar at the same time, probably because they’d done it 2139 timelines before as well. But still, they were in need of each other and they couldn’t have imagined being with anyone else in that moment. It was just about them. And now this is just about them too. 

Logan lets her hands drift all around the upper half of Jake’s body, from the back of his neck to the end of his arms. Then, she roams her palms all the way up his chest but she doesn’t exactly make it to the top because of Jake’s sudden wince at her more firm impact.

In fact, he lets out an agonised groan. “Agh, fuck!” He curses under his breath and almost drops Logan. Instinctively, she hops off him in order to give him space and he involuntarily collapses to his knees. 

Now seated on the floor, Jake runs a hand through his hair as an attempt to soothe himself. It sure as hell doesn’t work as there is a never ending feeling of seeming like he’s on fire and his right peck is on fucking fire right now. Logan sinks to her knees and swiftly rushes to his side, cupping Jake’s cheek with desperation as she searches his dazed gaze for a sign that he’s okay.

“Jake... what’s wrong?” She dares to ask, starting to fear the worst.

“Princess, it’s okay. I’m just... bruised.” Jake assures, preparing to stand up but his wound prevents him from getting back up. “Shit!”

“Bruised, my ass. You’re hurt, Jake.” Logan corrects, lifting up his shirt to examine his injury and her ocean eyes widen at what she finds.

“Seriously? You’re gonna go all doctor on me now?” 

Logan brushes off his stupid comment as she’s too damn curious about how Jake managed to get such a wound. “Jake... that’s a burn.” 

Jake finally surrenders, his shoulders slumping back in defeat. “Ok... maybe Lundgren got a bit excited with the taser.” 

“Oh my god! How is this only hurting you really bad now?” Logan wonders, her finger grazing the outline of the wound and Jake winces at her wound.

“I don’t know. Maybe it’s only starting to kick in.” Jake shakes his head and an unexpected chuckle escapes him.

“Jake, this doesn’t really seem like a laughing matter.” Logan points out and that only makes Jake laugh even more. 

“The pain just had to come around at the wrong time though, didn’t it?” Jake states, throwing his head back and rolling his eyes at the world. Logan immediately catches on to what he’s saying and can’t hold back the smile playing at the corner of her lips.

“...I don’t think a shower would be that bad.” Logan mutters under her breath and Jake narrows his cerulean eyes at her, smirking curiously.

“You kidding, darlin? Water will make this sting like hell.” Jake points out and Logan realises that only after he mentions it. With that, she nods understandingly and runs a hand through her platinum hair. It’s Jake’s next words that surprise her the most. He leans in abruptly so their lips are almost touching. “But I’m sure it will be so fucking worth it.” He adds in a low husky whisper, causing Logan to bite her lower lip in response.

“You sure? It’s gonna hurt.” 

“Eh, I’ll suck it up. Done it all my life.” Jake counters, folding his arms as the pain finally dies down and he can get it his feet. A smile crosses his features when he completes the action successfully. He offers a hand to Logan and she takes it willingly, rising to her feet. Their faces remain inches apart and that’s when Logan takes a chance to inhale his scent.

As expected, it’s pure crap.

“You really need a shower anyway.” Logan acknowledges and she expects Jake to be a little offended but he simply throws his head back and laughs.

“Well you saved my life, now you can save my hygiene.” Jake points out, grabbing Logan by the hand and leading her into the motel bathroom. 

Mike 

A tension creeps into the air, infecting the atmosphere as Mike watches Estela intently since she’s been pacing around the room out of stress for about fifteen minutes. He can’t say he really blames her. Her thoughts must be souring with the amount of lies that have been told to her and only recently has she maintained her memories again so there must be around a million things haunting and taunting her right now.

Everything in that hell hole of a place happened so fast and Estela clearly got the worst mental impact, considering all the things she found out. The worst thing probably being the sight of her mother, shackled in a cage like an animal. Thats how she described it to Mike anyway. It’s clear her mother has been manipulated in some way and is being moulded to be one of Rourke’s puppets. It’s clear the bastard is doing this for revenge as well, trying to prove to her mother that you should never double cross him. He’s torturing her. Manipulating her. Shaping her into a monster and that has to be most heartbreaking thing about this.

It’s Estela’s father and her mother. In this particular situation, it’s so easy for her to choose a side since it’s undeniably obvious who the real monster is. Olivia is a victim, lost to Rourke and she spent her whole life trying to get away from him with no luck. Now she’s the one paying the price and who knows what he’s planning on prepping her for? What would he make her do? 

It doesn’t make much sense since Rourke killed all the Vaanti in the explosion and he stranded them outside for the world see and exaggerate into their worst nightmares. Everything about his plan was private but now it seems like he’s revealing it all to the world. He wants their approval. He wants their worship. He wants their power and he wants to manipulate the world so they fall on their knees at the sight of him. 

What the hell has this world come to? It’s truly sickening. 

Mike never dares tear his eyes away from Estela, who still hasn’t stopped pacing as stress runs throughout her body. Her veins are popping with frustration and her entire demeanour is revealing her greatest weaknesses. She’s barely even paid attention to Mike since they got in here.

Sure, things are guaranteed to be awkward between them since they haven’t even dared to discuss the current state of their relationship status. They never really ended things on a breakup. It was more of thinking one of them was dead and thinking the other one had eternal amnesia. 

Mike remembers playing their story all to well.

When he was brought back by Jake and the others, finally regaining his conscience, he grew a respectful bond with the fierce warrior of them all, Estela. She was always a stubborn one, protective of the others but always cautious about who she trusted. At first, Estela was extremely wary of Mike, no matter how much Jake tried to talk him up. She was all business and did her best to avoid him. 

Then things kinda escalated when Mike found Estela sitting alone on the Dorado one night. They developed a relationship of sorts but never really confirmed it. They kept it a secret from everybody else, since they couldn’t afford to face the music. It was always a lot to think of and digest. So they laid low and Mike has to admit, it was one of the best times of his life. He truly loved Estela and he didn’t admit it to her until the last second before he sacrificed himself, watching her eyes flood with an emotion he’d never seen on her. Grief. Sadness. A yearn to mourn. 

He told her he loved her…  but he never let her say it back. 

Now… he’s found Estela again and she appears the same, just as confident, sexy, fierce, cold towards all the wrong people, tough, able and always ready for a damn fight. She hasn’t changed. 

But it’s clear she may not want to continue what they and Mike has to be okay with that. She’s going through so much right now and it’s already killing him to see her so broken. He’s just so good at hiding his worries. He wants to comfort her. He really does but he fears she may push him away and shut him out. Estela is complex soul with so many sides to her and Mike can’t say he doesn’t love her because he really does. He just wants to her to have life back and with everything that’s happening, that may not happen any time soon. 

Finally, Mike breaks out of his trance and decides to say a few words to Estela or at least try and get talking to her again because they’ve been so silent for so long and have even dared to speak of their current situation.

“I’m sorry.” Mike mutters under his breath but Estela definitely heard them thanks to the deafening silence. She stiffens when she hears him speak to her properly for the first time. 

Estela folds her arms as idly as possible and leans against the wall, finally pausing her pacing. It’s painfully obvious that she’s trying to appear as calm and collective as she can. She hates when people overly worry about her. “You don’t have to apologise. Nothing that happened today was your fault.” Estela assures, clicking her tongue and processing his apology.

“I’m not talking about today.” Mike abruptly corrects, a meaningful look hinted in his chestnut eyes.

Estela furrows her brows, bewildered. “What do you mean then?”

“I’m sorry that I... left you the way I did.” Mike admits, reminiscing back to the day he sacrificed himself for the greater good and Estela’s eyes widen in complete disbelief as a reaction.

“Wait, what the fuck?” Estela reacts, slightly taken aback. “You’re really apologising for saving us. Killing Lundgren.” 

“Well, he didn’t exactly stay dead, did he?” Mike counters, shaking his head as he seats himself on the edge of his own bed. 

“Yeah? Well neither did you.” Estela bites back, running her hands through her brunette hair and sighing intensely. Clearly, she’s trying to assure Mike that she’s okay with the fact that he left the way he did but there must be a feeling deep down inside of her that’s taunting her about some sort of disapproval. After a deadened moment of silence, Estela exhales sharply and clears her throat. “...Look, you did what you had to do to help Jake... Lundgren was so close to killing him.”

Mike raises his eyebrows at Estela’s assumption that his sacrifice was only for Jake. “It wasn’t just for Jake, Estela.” 

“Oh yeah, sure it was for Logan too. She was about to get killed as well.” Estela’s guesses once more and Mike shakes his head in denial, only confusing Estela now until she finally catches on and an irritated huff escapes her. “No! Please tell me you didn’t do that for me!” 

Mike silences himself, daggers made of guilt stabbing his heart as he takes in the violent tone in which Estela speaks. Her strong gaze burns into his and she’s almost pleading with him to tell her that this wasn’t because of her.

However, his silence is all the answer Estela needs. “Mike... I’m so sick of people dying because they wanted to protect me or keep me safe. I’ve lost too many people because of the claim that I’m in danger.” Tears swell in Estela’s deep brown eyes and she can’t seem to use the skill she’s perfected her entire life... hiding her grief. “I lost my mom because she wanted to keep me safe from my father. Now look where she is, a chamber of torture becoming one of Rourke’s petty little minions. I lost my Tio because some stupid motherfucking astronaut bitch wanted to protect me from the world. And now...” Estela trails off, her desperate eyes searching Mike’s eyes frantically and she almost can’t bring herself to say the words. “...I’ve lost you.” 

“But you haven’t lost me.” Mike corrects, rising from the edge of the bed and approaching Estela, remaining at a fair distance so she still has space. “I’m right here.”

“Are you though? You don’t seem like the same man i knew on the island.” Estela points out, waving her hand up and down in front of Mike and he furrows his brows at that.

“What makes you say that?”

“You’re just... different.” Estela mutters under her breath, running a hand through her dark hair again as tears continue to pool from her eyes. “I just don’t feel the same way around you anymore. I would’ve thought that if you ever did come back, I’d care about you the same way I did before but... no. Maybe all the feelings I had before died with the man I used to know.” Mike is unsurprisingly confused at her words. Shes speaking so meaningfully, which is something Estela has never been able to do. How much has this timeline really changed her? “We’re all different people now, thanks to Rourke’s mistake. The momentary amnesia must have affected us more than we thought, especially for you since you died and came back to life. Everything about you has changed for some reason or maybe I’ve just changed. Either way... I know... I don’t... love you anymore.” 

Hearing Estela finally admit that she loved Mike is like music to his ears. But he can’t really appreciate her saying it because she’s using it in a context to tell him that he’s practically nothing to her. Like there’s no more romance to pick back up, thanks to Rourke’d experiment. Its truly saddening to Mike to hear Estela deny any chance that they can work through this.

“But I still love you. Can’t we at least try—“

“Maybe there are certain sides of love that managed to get through. Like Jake and Logan. But then maybe there are feelings that changed with the person. Like Diego’s tragic fate. All I know is that... I can’t force myself to fall in love with you again because I just know I’ll end up being the one who gets hurt again. And I’ve been through too much already, Mike. I’m sorry.” 

With that, Estela disappears into the bathroom, leaving Mike loveless and empty. What the hell is she talking about? Still, Mike has no excuse to argue with her. She has these insane theories about what’s happened painted in her brain and he won’t be able to change her mind on it. But no matter what, Mike knows he’s never gonna stop loving her. And maybe she’ll come through eventually. 

Jake

Jake still can’t fucking believe it. His Princess is truly back in his life. For good. Hopefully for good anyway but Jake isn’t gonna dare allow his thoughts to drift into dark places tonight. No. Tonight is about him and Logan and proving to her just how much he loves her, which he has done successfully, judging by the satisfaction painted onto her expression as they fall back onto the motel bed.  

It’s crazy to think that sex with Logan is just as memorable as it was the first time. When they wanted nothing more than to be with each other in that moment and now here they are, what seems like forever later, still feeling like the fireworks are a brand new feeling. They’re truly soulmates and no one can even dare deny it anymore. It’s not a suspicion or a theory. It’s a fact. They’re meant for each other. End of story.

Now they just want a complete night of peace, a chance to show each other just how much they’ve missed the other and they’ve been doing well with it so far. After an undeniably satisfying shower, Jake actually felt like a brand new man, feeling as though he’d been cleaned of all the trauma he went through when he was trapped in the clutches of Rourke and now he feels... free, almost. The happiest he’s been in a long time. Even though there’s still so much depressing shit going on at the moment, Jake still needs to appreciate that his soulmate is back in his life. Now he plans to never lose her again. 

Logan slowly snuggles up to Jake, resting her head on his chest and tilting her head up to admire his dazed expression. She can tell he’s exhausted because who knows when the last time was when he had a good sleep? His eyes are barely half open and she smiles at the pleasant sight of him. She missed these simple moments. The aftermath of a passionate night together and the sweet minutes of just talking and reminiscing. These are the times Logan truly cherishes and she would never take them for granted.

Noticing how her ocean eyes are so bright and full of pure happiness, Jake momentarily shoves his exhaustion to the side and turns his attention her, eyeing her with curiosity.

“What are you looking at, Princess?” Jake questions, not able to hide wide grin that crosses his lips. 

“It’s just like how I remembered with you.” Logan admits, grazing Jake’s cheek with her fingertips and he flinches a little at her featherlight touch. 

“Heh, glad I still got it.” Jake jokes, planting a kiss on her forehead and nuzzling her hair for an extra second. “Seriously though, I’m so glad I’ve got you back. I missed you so goddamn much.” 

“I missed you too. I don’t know what I would’ve done if I didn’t find you again.” Logan whispers and Jake can sense the pain in her tone. She must have gone through endless emotional trauma... all over him? Jake can’t even try and believe that. With reassuring intentions, Jake brings their lips together as he tries to soothe her slowly growing sadness. 

“I’m sure... you would have survived, darlin’.” Jake points out with a tinge of regret in his tone. 

“Maybe... but I still would have been miserable.” Logan murmurs and she can sense that topic is really bugging Jake, as his mind starts to ache with doubts and wonders that hadnt really bothered him until now. She reaches out to him and intwines their fingers, while using her other hand to brush the stray strands out of his face. “Jake.. what’s wrong?”

“It’s just... what if saving me was a mistake?” He suddenly pipes up and Logan’s sapphire eyes widen with disbelief.

“What do you mean?”

“Come on, darlin’. I know that people think we’re dead now but... now I know I’ll never be able to give you the life that you fucking deserve and it’s killing me.” Jake confesses, pouring out all of his doubts and regrets into this one moment.

“How do you know, Jake? Maybe this just gives us another chance.” 

“Lo, there’s a clear fucking reason. Do you think I can ever go back to the States after this? I was barely safe when they hadn’t caught me.” Jake snaps, his frustration eating into him and he can’t push it away like he usually does. 

“But Jake...”

“Look, Princess... I know how much you wanna keep us together and I wanna do that too but... I also wanna make sure I’m a husband to you, not a burden.” Jake’s honesty is so real, as well as his concern but he doesn’t seem to realise that Logan doesn’t need any protection. She only needs him.

“Jake... you could never be a burden. And I’ve lost you too many times to wanna let you go again.” Logan assures and Jake seems a little more convinced as she stares him dead in the eyes, a solemness he’s never seen in her before. “This is it, okay? You and me. Forever. To the stars and back, right?”

Finally, the hint of a smile creeps up at the corner of Jake’s lips and he lets out a soft exhale in response to her words. “Right.” Jake eventually relents, surrendering to his love and he slowly brings their lips together for a tender kiss that lingers longer than it should. When they pull away, he knocks their forehead together and takes a moment to admire the love of his life. “I fucking love you, darlin’.” 

He truly can’t believe that she chose someone like him to spend the rest of her life with. 

“I love you too and we’re gonna save all our friends from this goddamn world that Rourke created. But you know what we have to do in order to achieve that, right?”

Jake furrows his brows, suddenly confused. “What?”

“...Were going back to the States.”

Michelle 

The next morning finally dawns onto the world and the light exploding from the window alarms Michelle to the fact that the day has finally arrived, leaving her completely aware that she will have to leave Quinn today and she sure as hell is hesitant to do that. Sure, Quinn’s parents will be here to comfort her and Michelle knows that they won’t want her hanging over their shoulder asking constant questions about Quinn’s current state. 

Michelle will have no choice. She’s going to have to leave and her heart is begging her not to do it but her body is desperately reeling with exhaustion, urging her to fall into her own deep slumber because she’s neglected sleep for too long. But she still doesn’t wanna go. She wants to stay here and be there for Quinn. But her family won’t want her to always be there. 

A nurse has popped in a few times throughout the night to check on Quinn, measuring her blood pressure and temperature every few hours. Nothing has changed. Her state has been the same since she first collapsed and who knows if she’ll ever improve or worse... 

Michelle quickly shoves away the thought and releases a low exhale. She glances at the clock nearby. Almost 9 O’clock. The nurse alerted Michelle that Quinn’s parents are set to arrive around this time and she wishes to offer her condolences before she’s forced to leave. With that, Michelle finally rises from her chair and wanders over to Quinn, feeling the urge to gain one more mental image of her before she leaves for a while. 

Quinn looks so peaceful and maybe this is the sleep she’s always dreamed of but never received because the burden of her fate was always haunting and taunting her. Too bad the circumstances are so grim or Michelle might actually be able to admire the woman she’s slowly falling for.

“I’ll see you soon, Quinn. Don’t worry, I’ll be back before you know it. And when I see you Lo, I’ll tell her about what you said. I don’t know what it means but... if you said it, then I’ll do it because...”

Before Michelle can get out her last words, she ends up trailing off as she spots a slow action performed by Quinn and her hazel eyes widen at the revelation. A simple stir of the hand but so damn important. It’s a sign of life. A reflex, if you will and it proves that Quinn still carries her life within her. The first smile breaks out on Michelle’s features and she can’t help but be excited that Quinn is finally revealing the fact that she’s alive.

“Oh my god... Quinn! You’re alive! Wait... can you hear me? If so, I want you to know...” 

Then suddenly, Quinn’s body starts to shake slightly and her eyes start to quiver as they’re about to open. But the way this awakening is happening is rather unusual. It’s not the sudden eyes opening that’s so sweet like you see in the movies. No, this is almost... terrifying. Quinn looks like she’s about to explode and her body shivers even more violently as the moments pass.

Michelle’s eyes widen at the current situation and she can’t believe what she’s seeing. One moment it seems like Quinn is alive and now it almost seems like she’s possessed in some way. This has to be some kind of sick game that Michelle’s mind has come up with. A method of manipulation. A horrible hallucination. 

But the more Michelle blinks and realises it’s still there... the more real it seems.

“Quinn... are you ok—“

All of a sudden, Quinn’s once dead eyes snap open but the usual sky blue ocean colour doesn’t light up the room so positively like it typically would. No... a neon, lime green light bursts out of both eyes. An emerald fire of torture hiding the hope in her corneas and Michelle is amazed by what she’s seeing.

What the fuck kind of sorcery is this? Quinn looks like she’s been possessed or cursed but what the hell is going on? This has to be a nightmare. How can this be real?

Now Michelle is really starting to feel her anxiety cracking through and she runs her hands through her blond hair. That’s when she starts to hear it. Quinn is screaming through an echoey voice, like a cry for help. Michelle can’t quite make out what she’s saying but she still manages to catch a few breathy words.

“...Kill... kill... kill...”

She’s just speaking kill, all over again. But then another word makes its way again, confusing Michelle even more.

“...Reborn... Reborn... Reborn...”

Now this is truly frightening. Michelle should probably go get help and find someone suitable to take care of this but she can’t fucking bring herself to move. She’s completely paralysed but she knows she has to help Quinn, if anything.

With that, Michelle paces over to Quinn and attempts to grasp her in order to prevent her from shaking as she tries to knock some sense into her. Just as their hands graze... Michelle becomes the same thing. Her eyes a flash a hot pink and she screams out in agony as she tries to maintain Quinn. Michelle feels as though a rose-coloured fire is tearing up her heart and the pain is almost unbearable as she tries to fight through it and take some of Quinn’s pain too.

What the hell is even happening to her? This can’t be real. This has to be a nightmare. 

Out of the blue, as the pain starts becoming even more severe, Michelle’s mind is suddenly flooded with memories. Her memories just flow through her mind, rushing through her body continuously and giving her a chance to feel something familiar. Something she hasn’t felt in a long time and it almost feels like she’s right back where she started. Her head starts to ache from the amount of memories but she also feels an endless amount of relief.

Finally, she remembers everything. Getting trapped on the island. Almost killing a colossal crab. Attacking a sea monster. Meeting a pirate. Absolutely everything. She remembers it all. Everything and everyone.

Sean, Quinn, Raj, Grace, Aleister, Craig, Zahra, Jake, Estela, Diego and... Logan.

Michelle finally is rid of her amnesia but it sure took a hell of a lot of pain to do it. She feels just as possessed as Quinn but only in exterior not interior. 

Then suddenly, the lights burn out, the fire dies, the voices fade, the shaking pauses and everything returns to the way it was, including Quinn. Still in her deep slumber and it’s like her sudden awakening never happened.

There’s just one difference, however... Michelle now has her memories back. 

[lawyernovelist]

Luke Skywalker, Jedi Master: A Legend

I'm not dead! Sorry for the long break, and sorry in advance for the fact that this post isn't quite up to my usual wordy standard; I've spent the last several months suffering from massive writer's block on almost every project I have on the go, including a novel, the next chapter of My Tauriel, and several blog posts.

Anyway, to get on with the show, I thought what The Last Jedi did with Luke Skywalker was one of the coolest and gutsiest things in it.

Bring it.

Spoilers for Star Wars through The Last Jedi and Lord of the Rings.

Now, I opened in that unnecessarily confrontational way because I've seen criticism of how this movie handled Luke from all over the place and all directions. And to an extent I get that, like I kind of get a lot of the criticism of this movie. I would, however, just like to get one small thing out of the way, and that's the comment I've seen all over the place that "they made Luke evil to make Kylo Ren good." And... no?

I think where this comes from is a feeling that because we see Luke do - or start to do - something unequivocally morally wrong, namely murder his student and nephew in his sleep, that must mean that the movie is telling us that Luke turned evil after we last saw him in the original trilogy. The main narrative beneficiary of such a change would be Ren, since this means that not only is the person telling us how he went bad unreliable, but he himself pushed Ren over the edge. It's not Ren's fault; his mentor betrayed him and so he fell from grace as a reaction to that. Luke is actually evil - the sort of man who would murder a helpless boy who trusted him - and Ren is his innocent victim.

Well, that only really holds up if you subscribe to the belief that if someone does or thinks one wrong thing they're irredeemably evil and that anyone who's been victimised is automatically good. And to be honest, I shouldn't be surprised this is a thing; it seems to be a really common belief on the internet.

But this was part of why I admired this story beat so much: it goes square against that narrative. What Luke did was wrong. Nobody denies that, even him. Right then in the moment he realised that he should not murder a defenceless boy just because of his own fears of what that boy might grow to do, and he accepts that what happened next was a consequence of his actions. Meanwhile, while Ren was right to be frightened and defend himself in the moment, and it's entirely reasonable that he drew his own lightsaber, force-pulled the roof down on Luke, left him for dead, and fled into the night, you know what wasn't a reasonable thing to do? Burn down the school and massacre the other students.

Luke did a bad thing, acknowledged it as bad, and accepted the personal consequences, including the lasting guilt. That doesn't make him evil, it makes him human. Ren reacted in an entirely understandable way up to the point where he went way too far and continued his trend of, when presented with multiple choices, always taking the evil one.

Ren: Gee, I've captured a teenage scavenger who has information I need. Shall I put her in a secure but comfy cell, apologise for scaring her, and offer her money and a ride home to Jakku in exchange for the information, or shall I tie her up, threaten her and her friends, and mind-rape her?

Also, while I'm defending Luke, you get points for realising that what you're about to do is awful before you do it. They say that the first thought you have is what you've been conditioned to think and the second is what you actually think.

Anyway, that probably would have been a nice segue over from the last post where I talked about the presentation of good and evil in these movies, but I did want to explicitly call out that one piece of criticism because it actually irritates me more than is rational. They did something complex and interesting! Stop discouraging them!

OK, so I mentioned that I can see why people are upset about this, and the next one I'm going to address is one that I actually kind of sympathise with, as well as being the reason I chose this specific quote as the title of this blog post: the presentation of Luke as a disillusioned old man who has failed to live up to his own legend.

I thought long and hard to come up with a hypothetical Tolkien example so I could empathise on this one, because Star Wars wasn't a big part of my childhood or anything, so maybe that's why I find it easy to say "Oh, neat, they're doing a cool new twist on an archetypical character" when everyone else in the cinema is saying "WTF have you done to Luke?" Eventually I came up with the option of "What if some asshole came along and made a sequel to Lord of the Rings in which we see that power corrupts and all the bad aspects of medieval kingship (and there are a lot of those) have started manifesting in Aragorn?" and concluded that yeah, I'd be pissed and that would actually be less upsetting than this must be because at least I'd have the comfort that such a sequel would be terrible fanfic, not actual canon. This is Star Wars canon now.

So yeah, I get why people are upset, but hear me and my outsider's perspective out.

For one thing, this is another difference between that hypothetical Lord of the Rings example and The Last Jedi: the problem isn't with Luke except that he couldn't live up to the legend that had grown up around his name and his position as the last of the Jedi and founder of a new Jedi order. And that's an awesome take.

A couple of things about me: first, I'm actually really interested in the question of what happens after these classic stories end. Now, that doesn't always mean that I want to find out - I don't feel the need to actually see Cinderella struggle to adjust to her new life as a princess in combination with the potential political awkwardness caused by the fact that the heir to the throne clearly suffers from face-blindness, and that's why I cannot believe Disney made two sequels (though I hear Cinderella 3 is way better than it has any right to be) - but it's always an interesting question. That's especially true of bigger and more complicated stories with world-shaking consequences like Star Wars and Lord of the Rings: it is kind of interesting to wonder how, after the happy/bittersweet ending, things fell apart. Because that's what things do.

To continue down this rabbit-hole - I promise I'll surface with a point in a moment - this was something Tolkien really got and which you can only really appreciate if you read all his Middle-Earth work: The Silmarillion, The Hobbit (supplemented by The Unfinished Tales), and The Lord of the Rings, in that order: things fall apart. Every time there's a victory, something is lost and it's only a temporary reprieve because evil always rises again. It may be smaller, but so are the forces of Good. Tolkien actually did start work on a sequel to Lord of the Rings in which we see evil returning during the reign of Aragorn's son Eldarion, not really because Eldarion was a crappy king or anything but just because that's what evil does.

The Last Jedi hits a similar note: Just because the Empire was defeated, evil isn't banished from the galaxy. And just as in that unfinished sequel, it's not because the heroes of the previous stories did anything wrong, it's just that this isn't as simple as it looks and winning one big battle and killing one guy doesn't solve all the problems. Eventually the situation will deteriorate again.

That's even more true where the heroes involved don't necessarily know how to pick up the pieces of the evil empire they destroyed, by the way. The galaxy was pretty lucky to have Leia on hand.

The second relevant thing I find interesting is myth-making: how people tell themselves stories about what's happening around them, and how that affects their behaviour and expectations. This is something that happens all the time, sometimes because someone is deliberately creating a myth around an event, group, or person, sometimes because a story has been heard, mis-remembered, and repeated so many times that it's lost some details and gained others, sometimes because people desperately want to believe in something. And it's honestly pretty fascinating. It's been great fun watching the discussion around Hamilton, for example, and how it seems to have changed views of the founding fathers because it presents a new myth in the form of a history play with awesome music.

Watching modern myth-making in the form of polemic and conspiracy theory is also a little bit terrifying, but that's a whole other topic.

Humans love to tell themselves and each other stories, and you can bet stories spread far and wide about Luke after the Empire fell. Even Rey, having grown up in this crappy backwater town on Jakku, seems to have knowledge and expectations of Luke and the Jedi. Doesn't it make all kinds of sense that those stories became myths and that they grew and changed in the years between the fall of the Empire and Luke taking some students and setting up a Jedi school, painting Luke as a larger-than-life hero who could do anything?

Personal anecdote time: when Obama was elected in 2008, I was at university in the States (now you can all guess my age :P). I watched the results coming in on the TV in our dorm lounge, and when the election was called for Obama the place went wild. We spilled out into the road, I could hear the celebrations from other dorms half a mile away, even I went running down the length of the building screaming and wearing an American flag as a cape. But once I'd calmed down a bit I looked around at the Bacchic levels of celebration and said to one of my friends "He'll be remembered as a failure." Naturally, she looked at me like I'd grown at least five heads, so I elaborated, "Everyone's built him up to be the Second Coming. He can't live up to this. Nobody can." I bring this up because that's what I remember when I look at Luke in The Last Jedi: everyone had such high hopes and expectations of him, a legend had built up around his name, he'd become a figure of myth, but at the end of the day he was just a man. He couldn't live up to that. Nobody could.

That acknowledgment of the effects of myth-making around great people and events isn't something I see very often in film, and it ties into what I was saying about seeing what happens after the words "The End". What stories do the people in the world tell themselves about the hero? How does that affect everyone's view of him? How does it affect his view of himself?

That last is also why I find Luke's characterisation in Last Jedi very believable. It makes total sense to me that after this massive failure, which also cost the lives of his students and might have driven his nephew to the dark side, he has withdrawn and become embittered. Again, I come back to the line I used to title this post; the way Hamill delivers it really sums that up.

By the way, good grief did my estimation for all the actors in this film go up.

Anyway, that also feels like a subversion of tropes, which was something this movie did in spades and I love it. I'm having trouble thinking of another of these epic fantasy stories where the hero tracks down the mentor who will turn them into a great warrior or whatever and finds someone so disillusioned. Rey's not having to persuade Luke she's worthy or anything (side-note: I especially enjoy that he never gets weird about the fact that a girl is so strong with the force. It wouldn't make a lot of sense - I mean, he knows Leia - but it was still nice not to have a a subplot where she has to prove she's worthy despite the ~*~terrible handicap~*~ of a second X chromosome), she's having to persuade him that just coming back into the fight at all is worth doing. She's not having to persuade him to train her but to train anyone, and his refusal actually does make sense. I mean, look what happened last time he got himself a crazy-powerful young student. Clearly he can't do this and it might not even be a good idea for anyone to do this.

Now, again, not very familiar with the original movies, this might actually be the exact route they took with Obi-wan and/or Yoda, but I don't remember ever seeing it before and something that distinctive is something I'm sure I would have noticed seeing for a second time. If I'm way off the mark here, though, I can only apologise.

One more comment, and then I'll close. I also really enjoyed Luke's relationship with Ren. This is kind of bringing me back to where I started, but it was still interesting to see how the break with Ren has affected Luke as well as how it's affected Ren. I like watching the emotional consequences play out, as well as how his previous failures have affected Luke's later relationship with Rey and view of himself. Also, that last fight was amazing. It did a great job of developing Ren's character in how he reacted to the sight of Luke and also the emptiness he seemed to feel when after all that Luke wasn't really there. For me, the way Ren reacted after that fight really did cement my view that this is not about Ren defending himself any more, no matter what his initial reaction might have been when he woke up to find Luke standing over him with a lightsaber; it's now about revenge. It kind of shone a new light on Ren, which was in itself interesting to me.

Anyway, I liked Luke in the original trilogy. I liked his enthusiasm, his intelligence, his determination, and his compassion (why did nobody tell me about him redeeming Darth Vader with the power of love?). However, that just meant that I enjoyed all the more seeing how he's been developed here. That Luke was still there, minus some enthusiasm and plus some world-weary cynicism that makes perfect sense given what's happened in the interim. I liked him as a character, I liked what he added to the story, and overall I think his presentation was one of the gutsiest things in this movie.

In summary: Luke good. Film good. Don't @ me.

If you enjoy my blog, you might also enjoy my novel: Bladedancer's Heirs. You can also find me on Goodreads!

[its-allaboutfanfic]

The art of flirting (Legolas x Reader)

This shot is based on  this imagine by @imaginexhobbit: 

>>Imagine Legolas trying to flirt with you, but not actually understanding the correct way to flirt, so it’s just an awkward mess and Aragorn has to intervene and tell you what Legolas is trying to say<<

This sounded really cute, so I gave it a shot, I hope y’all enjoy it xx. I had a lot of fun writing it, at any rate.

Word count: 1658

Warnings: again a lot of fluff and a pretty OOC Legolas. I guess it was unavoidable, but I gave my best. 

Tomorrow I’ll work on anon’s request *excited* you others: feel free to send me some too! (づ｡◕‿‿◕｡)づ

~*~

It hadn't been long since you, Aragorn, Legolas, Gimli and Gandalf had arrived in Rohan, just to find King Théoden under a powerful spell of Saruman.

The evil wizard had bewitched his mind and had brought Théoden so far, that the poor man had not even been able to built an opinion on his own.

Luckily, Gandalf had managed to break the spell and free Théoden from Saruman's influence, for that the King now had gained his mind back  and could proplery grieve about the death of his son.

As a sign of his gratitude, Théoden had ordered a bankett for the five of you for tonight and right now, you were getting ready for it.

Éowyn had even borrowed you one of her beautiful (F/C) dresses, which suited you perfectly and made you look satisfied with yourself at your reflection in the mirror.

You also tried to braid some strands of your long (H/C) hair in an elvish kind of way, just because you liked it, even if this was at least what you tried to convince yourself of.

If you were complete honest, you only did it to impress Legolas.

You had found yourself staring at him dreamily more frequently and let's face it, the Elven prince was one hell of an eye candy with his slim but also muscular figure, silky hair and striking blue eyes. Even the way he was kicking ass was full of grace and if it were up to you, you could watch him doing that all day.

So you gave your best with the braids and when you eventually found that you couldn't do any better, you decided then that it was finally time for the bankett.

It looked like you were the last one of your friends, who had appeared to the feast and as you went to sit on the same table as them, they all gave you a friendly smile, well, except for Legolas.

The elf was grinning at you huge and brightly, so that if you’d wanted, you could've counted every single one of his 32 pearl white teeth.

But instead you smiled back cautiously, because even though you bet he meant it friendly, it nevertheless did look a bit like a scary grimace and he only stopped, when Aragorn nudged him with his elbow and hissed something, that didn't reach your ears.

Legolas so-called smile then immediately dropped and he gave Aragorn an answer, starting a conversation, so that you sat down beside of Gandalf without any other occasion. At least not yet.

The meal began and the wizard had just finished telling you a story about a brave hobbit, who had once faced a dragon only on hisself and survived it – in fact this hobbit was a relative of Frodo – as Legolas clearing his throat brought your attention back to the blonde elf.

You found him looking at you with a weird expression, his eyes were slightly narrowed and only one of his mouth angles was turned up into a smile, giving him a strange mischivous look, that you were not used from him.

„Um, is there something you wanted to say, Legolas...?“

„Your beauty is beyond words, (Y/N), if your mother would see you tonight, she'd be the proudest woman alive for that she gave birth to such loveliness.“

You choked on the water that you were trying to drink right before he talked,  as your cheeks went bright red.

You could've sworn, that you'd heard Aragron groan after Legolas said those words and Gandalf beside you tried to cover his amusement with coughs, while Gimli started to giggle.

What was going on with the prince? Was he making fun of you? You hoped not.

„Your hair looks as soft as the fur of the white Mearas horses and if any artist of this earth would catch a sight of your fineness, they'd fight against each other and wouldn't ever leave you alone for that they could draw your angelic features until eternity.“

Gimli's laughter was now resounded in the whole hall you and the other guests were dining in and you couldn't help but blush more and more with every word Legolas said.

He was looking at you with that weird grin throughout the whole time and as he openend his mouth again, probably to go on with his embarrassing declarations to you,  Aragorn quickly intervened and put a hand on his friend's shoulder.

„I think that's enough, that was not what I meant“, he murmured in Legolas' direction, leaving the elf looking at him questioningly and then turned to you, giving you an apologetic smile.

„I think what Legolas here was trying to say, is that you look beautiful tonight, (Y/N)  and he wanted to ask you, if you would maybe spare a few minutes of your time after dinner for him, because he'd like to talk to you about something.“

You hestitated a bit, still not sure what was going on, but after you looked in Legolas' now again normal but a bit red face and unfathomable eyes, you couldn't – not that you wanted - resist and slightly nodded.

„Of course I would.“

Until the feast ended, you weren't really able to focus or concentrate on your food or anything besides what was possibly going to happen after you'd finish your meal.

You tried to catch Legolas' gaze a few times, but after Aragorn had silently explained to him, that what he had said to you was more awkward than engaging, he had avoided you with his eyes since then.

But as soon as you dropped your fork, being finished with your food, he looked right up to you through his long, dark lashes.

„Shall we?“, the blonde elf asked and stood up as you did the same. „Yes“, you said, whilst your heart was pounding loudly in your ears.

He led you outside to a lonely bench, not far away from the others, but nevertheless hidden from their gaze by trees and shrubs.

You sat down and he sat beside you, as you heard him drawing in his breath loudly.

„(Y/N)-“

„Legolas-“, you both said simultaneously and then stopped and smiled shyly at each other.

„You go first“, you told him chuckling, causing him to join your laughter nervously, before he locked your gaze with his and started to talk.

„About earlier,“ he began, „Aragorn had told me to compliment you to express my feelings for you, but, as you surely noticed, it didn't work out so well for me.“

You giggled a bit at his words and he offered you a weak smile, before he continued.

„So I think it would be best, if I'd just do it my way“, while he was talking, he took both of your hands in his, causing you to blush as you lost yourself in his gaze, that now turned soft as he noticed the color in your cheek and all you could see in his astonishing eyes, that were as blue and clear as a cloudless spring sky, were honesty and devotion.

„I love you, (Y/N) and there a more than a thousand ways of how I could circumscribe my feelings for you. For example there is this light, that always seems to surround you, which draws me to you like the sea to the moon. Or your determination to stand in for what is right to you, is something I learned to admire. Or how I had always thought that the sound of a violine was my favorite, but only because I hadn't heard the sound of your laugh since then“, he paused and you just stared at him in awe, not sure if your ears were deceiving you.

„There was a time in my life, (Y/N), where my being had no true purpose and I didn't have an aim that I could work or train for, but then you appeared,“ he cupped your cheek with one hand, „and I suddenly started to curse myself for my urge to sleep, for that I didn't and still don't want to miss any possible second, that I could spend with you. I love you and I hope you feel the same way for me.“

You had listened to his words, that sounded like music to your ears, without interrupting him once and only as Legolas tenderly wished your tears away with his thumb, you noticed that you were crying.

„Don't cry, mela en' coiamin“, he whispered, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead.

You closed your eyes, then opened them as you took his hand from your cheek and kissed it, smiling at him through teary eyes.

„Don't you ever change yourself for me again, Legolas, because I love you just the way you are. Your words were more than I had ever dared myself to dream for and I'll try to prove myself worthy for them as long as you allow me to.“

The smile Legolas gave you after your words wasn't the one from earlier at the bankett, where he had tried too much and wasn't really meaning it. This one right now was filled with honest joy and lit up every corner of your heart.

He moved forward, cupped your face and kissed you passionately, carrying you away with his pure happiness and love.

His soft mouth caressed yours, his tongue slightly licking along your bottom lip, making you allowing him entrance into your mouth.

As your lips parted, he brought his forehead to yours, both of you still panting for breath.

„That means you'll have to stay by my side until the very end“, he stated.

„There is no way I'd rather spend my life until then“, you smiled, diving in to press your lips on his once more.

/////////////////////////////////

mela en' coiamin = love of my life

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