#in his nightmare :: the Shire

[rangers-are-cool-moved]

[ nightmare ]   -   for my muse to meet your muse in their nightmares. (Arathorn)

  Meeting his soulmate was something that Arathorn had always wanted to do. Yet at the same time, he didn’t. Not if it meant meeting them in his nightmares.

  “I’m not someone you’d want as your soulmate..” He didn’t turn to look, easily recognising the unwavering presence of the old elf. His gaze focused on, what looked like, the frozen Brandywine River and wolves.

@thegreatstrongbow

[enchantedflameandflower]

Gavin (Karl Urban) x reader!

Fireside confessions, cuddling and you finally get in those big, strong, muscly, hot arms!

Summary: When you started working at the lumber mill, you couldn't help but instantly fall in lust with the strong, quiet younger brother. But you're determined to keep it professional, until one work trip suddenly changes it all.

co-written with CheshireCatSmile

@kus-babygirl @shirley-girly @jynx15 @everchar-of-the-shire @scraftsku35

@deathlesun @billybutcherxyou @butchers-girl @hippo2211

karl urban masterlist

direct link to part 1

Part 4

Gavin chuckles affectionately at your ask about dinner and searches through his bag, pulling out some packets with the name of some new hightech backpacking adventure company. "Been wanting to try these for awhile...let's see...would you like the gourmet beef stew or the um...old fashioned chicken and dumplings? Or there's beef lo mein if you're feeling like Chinese...or...turkey chili?" He hands you a couple of the pouches to look at, his strong fingers brushing against yours.

You can’t help grinning. “Actually they all sound good. I’ll do the chicken and dumplings tonight.” He nods and grabs the beef stew for himself, then props them on the fire in a particular way to heat. He sits right next to you and you shift a little so your leg is just pressing against his.

He seems to notice. "The temperature is dropping a lot quicker than I would have figured for this early in the season. Are you gonna be warm enough tonight?" He presses his thigh a little more firmly against yours but when you glance over he’s concentrating on the fire.

But you can feel the heat radiating from him and it’s wonderful. He’s right, though, it is getting cold. “I brought a thermal and an extra sweatshirt, so…I hope so. I mean, I’m sure I’ll be okay. I’ve slept in worse places,” you smile at him.

Gavin turns to look at you, dark eyes swirling with emotions and unanswered questions at your admission. "I'll try to make things as comfy-cozy as I can out here for you,” he gives you a warm look. “After all...you're doin’ me a big favor comin’ with me. Jack and I really need things to fall in line with this for the business and...I really need Jack to know he can count on me." His voice trails off.  "I'm sorry....I didn't mean to...you're just easy to talk to."

“It’s okay.” You want him to be able to talk to you about anything. “I’m really happy to be here, for you and the business. I want you guys to be successful. I believe in what you’re doing, trying to cut responsibly.

“But I think Jack already does know he can count on you,” you add, watching while he takes the pouches out of the fire and sets them to cool in front of you. 

"I hope so. I have a lot to make up for," he says so softly you can barely hear him. He hands you some utensils and opens your packet for you then does the same with his own. He smiles and taps his packet against yours like a toast. "Moment of truth," he chuckles.

After a few bites, what he said niggles in the back of your mind, and you glance over at him. You hope the question isn’t too much, but you truly want to get to know him better. “What really did happen last year? I’ve heard murmurs here and there but everyone is pretty quiet about it. Was there…really a dragon? Why are people upset with you?”

"There was really a dragon,” he answers, meeting your gaze then looking away. “I....well I had some hair-brained get rich quick idea and I went off half-cocked without takin’ anyone's feelings into account. I wouldn't listen to anyone, I was so full of myself... Almost lost the people I care about most in the world and turned something amazing into a nightmare for everyone. I've had a long time to think about it since then. I can't believe how blind I was to everything that really mattered." He shakes his head and pokes the fire with a stick sending a small plume of sparks into the air.

You can feel his mood has plummeted and now you feel guilty for bringing it up. You chew your bottom lip for a minute thinking. You know he can be impatient sometimes, and gets caught up in excitement when he has an idea. Clearly he’s always hoping to prove himself to his older brother, so you can see how he could’ve made a mistake like that. “I’m sorry,” you murmur. “I shouldn’t have said anything. But I think your brother sees how much thought you’ve put into your work since then. He knows how much you care for him.”

“I wonder if my nephew will ever really trust me?” he muses, still staring into the fire. “That little kid has more courage than most of the grown men I hang with." Gavin shakes his head and stares off into the distance for a moment. Then, coming back to himself, he looks at you. "Oh hey, I forgot. I brought some cornbread from the diner."

It’s an obvious shift away from the subject and attempt to lighten the mood, and you’re grateful. He rummages in his pack and pulls out a tin. "Should I warm it a tiny bit?"

“Sure, that sounds really good.” You know which diner he means and it’s the sweet kind of corn bread, almost like a dessert, and you actually love it. “That was the first place I ate when I got this job. A special treat.”

"Yeah, their food is the best." He opens the tin and sits it just so at the edge of the fire. "You know...I think I may have seen you there that evening," he says softly, glancing at you out of the corner of his eye, as though trying to gage your reaction. "It was still pretty warm out and you had that pretty yellow sundress on..."

“Yes that was me,” you blush a little again, but smile. “How embarrassing to be caught taking myself on a date,” you laugh. “Going out all alone.” You take a bite from your chicken dinner then reach for a corner of corn bread, popping it in your mouth.

"Not embarrassing at all,” he grins. “But a sweet, smart, pretty girl like you should never have to go to dinner alone if ya don’t want to. We...um...we may need to fix that." He reaches to break off a little piece of cornbread himself. 

His leg feels warm where it presses against yours. His heat is addicting and you can’t stop yourself from wondering what it would feel like to be wrapped up tight in his arms. Your heart flutters at his compliments. They’re hard to believe but nice to hear. “How would we fix that?” you ask him even though your heart is racing with anxiousness.

"Well...I was thinkin’...you might like to go out to dinner with me sometime. Well...that is...if you wouldn't feel uncomfortable going out with your boss to dinner and...maybe a movie? I mean...I'll understand if you have reservations about… About mixing your work and private life but..."

Your heart flutters wildly again and your smile grows wider. You can’t believe this is actually happening. Even though the entire thing makes you nervous, you can’t help but want it. “I’d really like that a lot, Gavin. If you don’t think Jack would mind.” You finish the last bite and just then a breeze comes through the trees, making them rustle then making you shiver.

He sees you shiver and tosses a little more wood on the fire then scoots over and puts his strong arm around you pulling you into his side. "Definitely going to be cold tonight but I think I have the tent set up nice and cozy so we should be okay."

You almost give a soft little moan when he pulls you close but you manage to stop it. “Th-thank you,” you murmur. It feels so good for him to even care like this, and he feels good against you, but your heart is really racing now. “My um…my last relationship didn’t go well, and it ended really badly so if I seem anxious, that’s why. But I like you, Gavin. I just wanted you to know.”

"I like you too. I want to really spend time getting to know you. We can take it slow...no pressure. I've always rushed headlong into things in the past and...that hasn't really served me well." He pokes at the fire some more with his free hand but keeps his arm firmly around you as the chill settles in a little more a the first stars wink on above the treetops.

The crackling of the fire is soothing and his hand starts to rub your arm idly as he holds you. It’s more comfort than you’ve felt in a really long time. Without you realizing you start to drift off.

What feels like only a moment later, your eyes flutter open and you feel movement and strong arms holding you against a warm solid chest. Is someone carrying you? Then it comes back to you in a flash...you had started to drift off near the fire. Oh my! Was Gavin carrying you ...you startle and a soothing, low male voice is telling you to hush...that everything is okay. Then you feel the fat raindrops on your face...

You blink for a moment then open your eyes all the way and you can just barely see Gavin’s eyes in the darkness as it starts to rain. He crouches down right next to the small tent and carefully sets you slowly on your feet when he sees you’re awake. “Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry Gavin! I didn’t mean to fall asleep like that. You didn’t have to carry me...”

Gavin’s answering smile is so warmly affectionate, you feel like you might just throw yourself at him here and now. "No worries Sleeping Beauty,” he murmurs, his voice husky. “I really didn't mind. I just need to close up the big pack and put it up a tree. I'll be right back. Go ahead and make yourself comfortable and I'll be back in a few minutes. He brushes your hair back from your face gently and looks into your eyes for a moment then turns to take care of the pack.

Next up: A shirt and some jeans are coming off and makin’ out tent style! Let me know if you want a tag! Thank you so so much for reading and for your likes, comments and reblogs, they mean the whole world to me!

Part 5

karl urban masterlist

[stilltrails]

I love the idea of Bilbo making the decision to take Thorin to the shire during the year for his mental health. Bilbo is very perceptive of Thorin's health, both mental and physical, and knows the Throne demands a lot of out of him.

And he sees how it crushes Thorin daily. He fears for his livelihood, and knows strangely enough that always being in Erebor isn't great for him.

The Company sees it too. The trembling hands. The nightmares. The skipped meals. The bags under his eyes. Everyone moved on, but Thorin did not. And it's killing him.

So he'll take Thorin to the Shire for a little under half a year. It gives Fili a time to learn to run things, and gives Thorin an opportunity to step away from the throne and clear his head.

The trauma he went through from the exile to the reclamation of Erebor stays with him, and being in Erebor all the time makes it worse.

Bilbo may not be overly fond of being in the Shire, and being made a spectacle by his species or fending off his good name and reclaiming silverware is not something he wants to spend his summers doing. But the politics of hobbits in the Shire bother Thorin considerably less than the politics of Erebor do.

And Bilbo and the company knew that keeping Thorin would kill him. So once a year, Bilbo grits his teeth, trades his dwarven wear for his traveling, again, and takes Thorin to the Shire.

And one year, they come back with Frodo.

[thewulf]

For That Long? || Aragorn

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

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

Pairing: Aragorn x Reader

Word Count: 3.5k +

TW: fluff?

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

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

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

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

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

“I am no King.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yea?” He asked you as confirmation.

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

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

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

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

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

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[starks-hero]

The Beauty of Chance

Pairing: Thorin Oakenshield x Dúnedain!Reader

Summary: Whilst finding respite in Beorn's home, certain relevations are had. Or; you and Thorin do a little more than just talk things through.

Word Count: 3.4k

Warnings: feather-light smut, the reader smokes a pipe

a/n: Reader is Dúnedain because I'm physically incapable of writing a middle earth fic where the reader isn't Dúnedain. Once again I used Irish as a replacement for the Dúnedain's native tongue because trying to translate Númenórean Sindarin is a nightmare :)

Beorn's home offered a sense of comfort and safety of the likes you hadn't felt since leaving the Shire. The high walls eased your nerves and you found your hand no longer instinctively reached for your sword. It served as a quaint port amidst the storm, a chance to catch your breath. And it had come long overdue.

After a breakfast sweetened with berries and honey and made up of foods far finer than anything you'd seen since passing Bree, you decided on spending the morning exploring Beorn's home in all its subtle splendor.

Everything seemed to dwarf you in size, from the furniture to the settlement itself. It was an odd feeling, one that stirred up a strange sense of nostalgia; wandering into your father's forge as a child and toying with tools far too large for small hands. You supposed it also offered a glance into the life of your companions.

You reached to undo the lock to the back door, vowing to never poke fun at Bilbo's height again when the plank of wood fell snugly back into the lock despite your best efforts.

You passed through the stables instead, petting the manes of the mares that resided there as you did.

The gardens, just like the rest of the skin changer's dwellings, were evidently tended to with no shortage of care. A small warren of rabbits dozed comfortably in the ryegrass and blooming flowers brushed your knees. You simply stood among it all for a moment, feeling the soil beneath your feet and the sweetened air in your lungs.

The outskirts of the garden were bordered by two oak trees, mature and proud. Their canopy provided a small shadowed patch and you quickly found respite against its bark and beneath its leaves.

With the company out of sight, you breathed a pained sigh.

Your muscles ached and your body felt stiff. It was somewhat difficult to convince it to relax after so long spent prepared to fight at a moment's notice. Shifting against the tree bark, you undid your shirt enough to reveal the unpleasantly long gash that ran across your shoulder and coiled down your arm. The fine work of an orc blade. The bleeding had all but stopped now, but the wound's edges were jagged and an angry red. And the horrid stinging that accompanied such injuries was yet to go away.

You undid the bandages and bound the wound in fresh cloth. It was by no means your finest work but others in the company had sustained far worse wounds during the scuffle on the cliffside and Oín only had two hands and a very limited amount of supplies. You wouldn't seek out care when your friends needed it more.

Besides, the blade had caught your weaker arm. You could still hold your sword, still carry out your purpose.

You'd manage.

Relacing your shirt and silently vowing to put your stubbornness aside and seek help should a fever set in, you sat back against the bark, shifting until you found comfort.

It felt nice to finally rest. To close your eyes and not fear for your company's safety. You reveled in the quiet. For all of two minutes.

The sound of brambles snagging on leather and stones shifting beneath heavy boots had you up and alert and despite all logic, your hand still grasped at your empty sword belt.

You calmed when Thorin rounded the tree. He seemed startled at the sight of you.

“Forgive me, I did not mean to intrude,” the dwarf said, words genuine. He stepped back, as if ready to turn on his heel should you ask him to.

“Searching for some peace and quiet?” You asked instead. Such moments were few and far between. “It would seem we both had the same idea.”

The king's head fell forward in a nod and when still he made no move to leave you motioned to your side.

“Sit.”

His hesitation was brief. He settled beside you, then all was quiet again. A sudden breeze, warm and tinged with the scent of autumn, rushed through the leaves. Thorin took a deep breath before releasing it in an uneven sigh.

It was an odd sight, seeing him at ease. You'd go as far as to call it unnatural. His relaxed shoulders and gentle expression seemed foreign and uncanny. But you couldn't deny the youthfulness that seemed to soften his features now. It was not unlike the glimpses you'd caught of him during your shared night watches when both of you were too stubborn to let the other stay up alone.

A quaint stillness began to settle and when Thorin still said nothing, you decided neither would you. You were happy to sit in silence at his side.

From your pocket, you produced your pipe, old and worn around the rims but still trusty enough to serve its purpose. You ran your fingers along the polished wood, all the way down to its blackened base. Generously stuffing it full, you held a match to the green leaves until they kindled and began to smolder.

Bilbo, bless his heart, had offered you what was left of his pipe-weed. ‘The finest you'll find anywhere south of Bree,’ he'd promised as he handed it over without a second thought after discovering yours has been lost to the greedy hands of goblins.

The first exhale of smoke left lips that were turned up in a smile. The generosity of halflings would never cease to amaze you.

The taste of tobacco sat heavily on your tongue as you blew out wisps of grey smoke and watched as they were carried off on the afternoon breeze.

“I owe you thanks,” Thorin said suddenly, shifting beside you. “The courage you showed on the cliffside, your willingness to help this company, it's not something I take for granted. You have done a great deal for us and we- I am grateful.”

“You don't have to thank me, Thorin.” You exhaled another flurry of smoke.

“But I do. When I called on my own kin for help they turned away. But you, a soldier of Man, a ranger, you answered. You didn't have to, by all means of sanity you shouldn't have. But you did.”

You chewed anxiously on the tip of your pipe. “I know what it's like to be without a home,” you said simply. “And it is not a faith I would wish upon anyone.”

Thorin only nodded in response. His gaze shifted to the tree roots beneath his feet.

You hadn't spoken much of your past, although by the way you carried both yourself and your sword, Thorin knew that your life until this point had not been one without hardship. The race of men were as dependant on each other as a fawn to it's mother; venturing out on ones own was strange for your kind. Gandalf had not indulged him with your story, only what he needed to in order to convince him to accept you as one of the company.

But Thorin knew what a renegade looked like. He'd lived as one long enough to know what the dreariness in your eyes and your indifference to battle and death meant. Part of him wanted to tell you that, to form that middle ground and hope it offered some comfort.

“Regardless, I am glad to have you with us,” he said instead.

At your feet, a lone beetle made its way through the undergrowth. You watched in bemusement, shifting your boot to clear its path. You turned to Thorin and found his own eyes trained on the bug as it continued on its journey. In an odd moment of catharsis, you saw the dwarf beside you not as a king, but a friend and fellow soldier. You offered him your pipe.

When the dwarf noticed your extended hand he smiled almost fondly. The sight made the aches in your muscles ease. He took the pipe in gentle hands, pressing the mouthpiece to his bottom lip and filling his lungs with the finest pipeweed the Shire had to offer.

He pushed the grey cloud past his lips in one deep breath, the smoke taking the shape of a perfect ring before disappearing above the tree.

You raised an unamused brow. “I would not have offered had I known you'd take the opportunity to show off.”

“Lying is not becoming of you, master ranger,” the dwarf responded smoothly, his eyes closed and lips turned up in a satisfied smirk. His hair splayed out around his head like a darkened crown, white strands catching in the sun like silver.

For no reason other than to make watching him an easier task, you shifted against the tree so that you faced the king. The resulting pain that lashed up your arm in doing so had you hissing through your teeth. Thorin's eyes were on you in a moment.

“I'm alright,” you dismissed quickly.

The dwarf looked entirely unconvinced. He reached for the collar of your shirt and when you made no attempt to stop him, pulled the fabric down.

“Mahal,” he said the word like a curse, low and rough. “How long have you kept this hidden?” Struggling to fall somewhere between a convincing lie and an honest under exaggeration, you decided against answering altogether. With a grunt, Thorin pushed forward and onto his knees. He took the hem of his undershirt in one hand and tore off a strip with less than a second thought.

Just as you hadn't answered him earlier, you said nothing as Thorin began to tend to you.

The bandages, already tinged pink, fell away easily in his grasp. A single line of blood seeped from the open gash and trickled down the swell of your bicep. Thorin swiftly decided the best he could do was simply rebind the wound. Despite their broadness, his fingers worked nimbly, carefully gracing over your arm and masterfully retying the bandages.

“You're a fool,” he said eventually, finishing the bindings with an unnecessary tug. “I believed your selflessness to be honorable, now I'm more inclined to think it idiotic.”

You huffed a laugh and winced.

Thorin took up the torn strip of blue linen from his shirt and carefully looped it around your arm, tying it taunt against your shoulder.

“Where did you learn that?” you asked. With the added support, the aching throb in your arm had all but ceased.

“I learned many things during my time in the Blue Mountains and in the villages of Man. How to properly dress a wound was one. It would appear that was a skill you did not pick up during your time on the road.” He answered with a smirk.

“Healers usually work in silence,” you reminded him.

He smiled at your words despite himself. He looked younger when he smiled. His eyes brightened and shone silver. You found yourself wishing it was a sight you could see more often.

There was something about the way he tended to you that set a deep ache in your chest.

He finished his work with one more tight knot and a satisfied hum. “It will do for now. I'll have Oín treat it once he has a moment to spare.” His hand ran down the length of your arm before falling away at the bend of your elbow.

“I'll manage,” you said. The words were almost second nature now.

“You always do.” Thorin's voice was soft. He regarded you in a manner so gentle the ache in your chest flared, a pounding against your ribs. But when his eyes caught your own, the look vanished and he stood. “I've intruded long enough, I'll take my leave.”

“Why not stay?” You were embarrassed by how quickly the words jumped from your throat.

“Because if I do I fear I'll do something rash.”

“Thorin–” you rose to your knees, reaching out and grasping his forearms. The action surprised you both.

You failed to find any words to confront him with, anything that would translate the fierce fire he set in you. How he regarded you not just as an equal but as someone to be respected, admired. How he tore the very clothes on his back to stop your bleeding. How the action was almost instinctive. Even the simplest things. Like how he hadn't complained once about how the earth dug into his knees as he tended to you. How he still hadn't pulled away from you now...

Gravity seemed to give way beneath you and you pushed yourself up on your knees further till your lips brushed his. Thorin was still for a fleeting, terrifying moment; before he returned your affection with a fierce passion.

The earth bit into your knees and you rocked forward. Thorin's hands grasped your waist and anchored you against him. The feel of his palms against your side was grounding. You swore the world had faded into the great void at the end of time and this moment was all that was left.

When you parted, a shaking breath passed Thorin's lips. “You are far braver than I.” His voice was quiet, hoarse.

“Brave?” you grinned. “I thought you'd settled on idiotic.”

The dwarf laughed, full and hearty, and gods what you wouldn't do to hear it every day for the rest of your life.

“I think, perhaps, both can be true,” he said, and his lips were on yours again.

His advance was softer this time, fixed on feeling you against him, marveling at your touch. He kissed your neck, just above the beating of your pulse. His lips turned up in a smile.

You watched him in absolute awe; a descendant of Durin touching you as if you were carved from gold, a king willingly on his knees for an outcast.

The ache in your chest seized your heart.

Your hand rushed up his arm, fingers running past the swell of his shoulders and gently catching in his hair. Thorin gasped sharply, the bridge of his nose pressing tautly against the curve of your jaw. In a single grounding moment, you recalled the significance of hair in dwarven culture as well as the boundary you'd just overstepped.

You rightened yourself against the tree, forcing Thorin to pull away in turn.

“Forgive me, I didn't mean–” you swallowed. “Thorin if you want this to end you need only say so. I won't take offense.”

The silence that followed was uncomfortably thick. You sat unmoving as the dwarf regarded you with something you couldn't quite place. It left you feeling uncertain whether he was going to reach for you again or stand and leave.

“Why do you do that?” he asked instead. “Doubt yourself. Ask for forgiveness as if you have done something wrong. Do you truly find the thought of me wanting to touch you, to be touched by you, so difficult to accept?” He caught your chin with gentle fingers and raised your head. “I can think of nothing I want more.”

His touch ghosted your neck and you shuddered. Words could not tell him how much he meant to you, but you hoped your lips against his own and your heart beating frantically against his chest would.

Thorins knees began to ache, straining and giving way. You pressed a steady hand to his back and guided him forward until his legs slot over your own and your height balanced out. He surged closer, you could feel the tree bark biting into your back. You ignored it with ease.

The kings hand ran along the underside of your arm and the feel of it drew from you a soft breath. Your hand brushed over his braid, gently thumbing at the strands. You combed your fingers through the knotted locks behind his ear; the knowledge of what the act meant to Thorin, the intimacy of it all, made your head light.

Then, your fingers tapped almost unnoticeably against the base of his neck, right above his pulse where the dwarf's blood rushed so fast he was almost certain you could hear it. Your mouth parted in an unasked question and Thorin grunted a low ‘yes’.

Your lips traced his neck, kissing down his collarbone and ensuring to leave each of your marks below the collar of his shirt. Thorin steadied himself against you, breathing a sigh against your temple.

“Tá tú go hálainn, a grá,” the words were so raw, came from somewhere so primal within you, you hadn't noticed they'd left you in your mother tongue. “Tá m'chroí agat.”

Thorin managed a shuddering breath, a weak sound that caught in his throat. “I assume you will not be telling me the meaning of your words.” His hands shook as they moved against your back.

“Consider it reparations for each time you have spoken to me in Khuzdul with no intention of telling me what it is you'd said,” you smirked against his throat, recalling each time he'd addressed you in his native tongue. How the words always seemed natural and unmistakably genuine. He didn't feel the need to tell you the meaning behind those words now. He felt you already knew.

Thorin chuckled, boyish and light, and it set fire to your heart.

The sun had sunk behind the mountains and turned the air cold. But with Thorin laying by your side and a bed of grass at your back you swore you had enough warmth to last you the night.

The dwarf's arm rested beneath your head, hand tracing patterns you didn't recognize against your bandaged shoulder. Even now, his lips still brushed your head.

His other hand rested against your stomach and you bid your time tracing his palm, slowly and with purpose.

Thorin shifted beside you. You could hear the careful workings of his mind as he forged his next words on his tongue. “Should we succeed in taking back Erebor, where will you go?” He asked. His words were heavy.

“I don't know,” you answered honestly. “South? Towards Rohan and then wherever the road leads.”

It took the dwarf a moment to respond. Your words hollowed out his chest and set an ill feeling in his stomach. The thought of you alone stirred up a deep sadness Thorin had not felt in an age. You, with your spark for storytelling and devotion to others and your incomprehensible ability to simply make a difference. To bring light to whatever situation you found yourself in, to join a company that was all the better to have you. To stumble into the life of a downtrodden king and singlehandedly remind him he deserved his throne.

“If we take back the Mountain, I want you to know that you are welcome to stay, should that be something you wish.”

You took a deep breath, holding it till you were certain Thorin's words had not caused your heart to cease beating. As the true weight of the offer set in, you released Thorin's hand.

“I would not think I'd be wanted. I have no right-”

“You have every right,” Thorin said, his words instant and forceful, convincingly so. “As much right as any dwarf that refused to help us in our hour of need.”

You huffed a sigh that fell somewhere between disbelief and amusement.

“Someone like me staying in the sacred halls of Durin's folk. A lowly ranger...”

“You are so much more than that.” He said the words slowly, as if they were the most honest thing he'd ever spoken. “You are a descendant of the Men of the West, a member of this company.” He paused. “You are Amralimê. My love.”

You shifted to look at him. A dwarf who by all means of faith and sense you should never have crossed paths with. But by the beauty of chance, he'd entered your life and reminded you, in all his subtle ways, that it was worth living. That you were worthy.

You dared to retake his hand in yours. “You'd have me?”

Thorin simply smiled.

“Above all else.”

Thank you for reading! <3

authors notes:

Irish translation: tá tú go hálainn, a grá - you are beautiful my love. Tá m'chroí agat - you have my heart. Phonetic pronunciation for those interested - taw two guh haul-in, ah graw. Taw muh-kree a-gut.

[holliday-is-holligay]

OKAY LORD OF THE RINGS HOT TAKE - I WISH THE MOVIES KEPT THE BARROW DOWNS

Art by: QuintusCassius

You don't have to keep Bombadil, they can find their own way out for the sake of pacing, but when I think about just how much this scene actually ties into the rest of the story's themes it becomes more and more of a shame it didn't make it in.

It introduces the idea of a land falling to shadow and establishes, in the most show-don't-tell way so far how intense the threat to the landscape itself the evil they're facing could be. This is a story about a war on the land as well, after all, and this land LOST. And it's NOT a far off land from their own home. Such shadowy devastation and evil and rot and despair is so close to their own home.

We learn these ruins belong to Arnor, an even greater kingdom of men than Gondor. Which, hey, is gonna become super relevant multiple times across the story - like when Boromir is pleading for help with Gondor's plight or talking about its strength, or when we see Minas Tirith under siege. And we KNOW that kingdoms of Men greater than it have fallen.

It establishes The Witch King really early and subtly. This doesn't even need to be mentioned at this point. It can be done the same way it's done in the movies RE Weathertop when Gandalf is explaining who The Witch King is. He can just explain it further. "He stabbed Frodo on Weathertop, and he laid low the Kingdom of Arnor." Flashback to Weathertop and the Barrowdowns.

This also makes it more significant, like it was in the books, that The Witch King is the one leading this army. He's destroyed a kingdom of men once before, he'll fucken do it again.

It makes Aragorn's defeat of him on Weathertop WAY more impactful! One of the Dunedain driving off The Witch King at the site of one of Arnor's greatest losses to The Witch King is a symbolic cue that though these are dark times, these are changing times.

And, of course, it sets up Merry's sword. Merry doesn't just have some random sword in the books. He takes a sword from the Barrow Downs, a sword of the Dunedain, and carries it through the ENTIRE STORY and that's what he stabs The Witch King with on Pelenor Fields. The books even have a paragraph briefly eulogising the sword and talking about the pride of the swordsmith who would never know that they made the weapon who undid their greatest enemy, wielded by a hobbit.

Like... Yeah, as a filmmaker and writer myself I FULLY understand that pacing is a vital thing to keep hold of. And The Fellowship of The Ring is perfectly paced. And deciding what to keep and what to cut is just... a nightmare that Peter Jackson and his team did better than anyone had any right to do.

But I think The Barrow Downs should honestly be talked about similarly to how we talk about The Scouring of The Shire. Its effects and thematic overtones are incredibly far reaching and important to the story and it's definitely one of those "it's a real shame it got cut" moments but I DO understand why they cut it.

[novelmonger]

Some highlights from the Director/Writer Commentary of The Return of the King with Peter Jackson, Philippa Boyens, and Fran Walsh:

As they mentioned in TTT, they were originally going to put the Smeagol vs. Deagol fight as a flashback during the Dead Marshes. Before they decided to use it to open RotK, their placeholder idea for a scene to open RotK was to do a sped-up helicopter shot from the Paths of the Dead, across the plains of Edoras, to the Golden Hall where Aragorn wakes up from a nightmare (and then goes and talks to Eowyn). Very glad they went the direction they did!

In the final shot they used when Smeagol takes the Ring out of Deagol's hand, the actor playing Deagol actually blinked, but they liked Andy Serkis' performance so much, they had Weta go in and freeze Deagol's eyes so they could use the shot XD

You know, I forget sometimes that they didn't even have Saruman in the theatrical cut at all. Boggles the mind.

In the scene where Aragorn comes out of the Golden Hall and goes to stand next to Legolas, who's looking out at the night...Viggo and Orlando weren't in the country at the same time, so they shot them separately and then put them together @_@

You know, I never thought about this before, but when Gandalf touches Pippin's face, they had to make sure his hands looked extra big! So they used an actor called Big Paul, who had the biggest hands they could find, and Ian McKellen directed him for how to move his hands in the shot XD And Big Paul is the Rohan guard who gets shoved aside when Merry and Aragorn rush up to the top of the wall to watch Gandalf and Pippin leave!

THEY SHOT A SCENE OF LEGOLAS TALKING TO TREEBEARD ABOUT THE ELVES LEAVING MIDDLE-EARTH?!?!?!?!?!?! :O Originally, it was going to link the Isengard scenes to the scene of Arwen and the other Rivendell Elves going through the forest, but then because of all the Edoras stuff in between, the connection was lost. They also said something about Legolas reciting a poem! And joked again about putting it into the 25th anniversary edition. THAT TIME IS COMING UP, PETER JACKSON!!!! I WANNA SEE THIS SCENE!!!!!!

a;lkdsjs;kdfljds;fjl NOW THEY'RE JUST TEASING US. They talked about a "library scene" during the whole sequence where Arwen goes back to Rivendell and confronts Elrond about how he saw her son, etc. They wouldn't say what happened in the "library scene," but talked about how they should include that in the 25th anniversary edition too. a;ldkfjs;dkfljsd;kfljdslfk

The people on set who had a crush on Sean Bean were called "Beanstalkers"! XD That's the best; every fan to this day ought to call themselves that!

Similarly to the scene with Legolas and Aragorn, the little bit with Legolas and Gimli as everyone's getting ready to leave Edoras was filmed separately because Orlando and John weren't in the country at the same time. So they filmed Legolas' shots with Brett, John's scale double, then filmed John's shots later, filming both of them against greenscreen. Then they took some unused footage from the Edoras set and put it in the background. It just boggles my mind how many of these cobbled-together scenes there are, because it feels so much like all the characters are together in the real location!

RED ALERT RED ALERT THIS IS NOT A DRILL!!!! They mentioned Beregond!!!! 8D When talking about why they put in the scene where Pippin and Faramir talk (when Faramir says the uniform Pippin's wearing was made for him when he was a child), in order to forge the connection between them that will ultimately lead to Pippin saving Faramir's life, they talked briefly about Beregond! They describe him taking Pippin under his wing, showing him about the city, and called the relationship between them "quite sweet" :3

Another little connection between Pippin and Faramir I don't think I've ever thought about before, that apparently Billy Boyd thought about when doing these scenes, is that Pippin is the only son of the Thain of the Shire, so there may have been a certain amount of pressure and expectation on him. Obviously, he's so young and probably didn't spend too much time worrying about that while scampering about the Shire, but maybe that's something he thinks about while watching the way Faramir and Denethor interact. Maybe a contrast to the way he would interact with his own father, maybe a reminder of the way he would be scolded? Hard to say, but it's interesting to think about.

Uuuuuuughghghg, so frustrating to listen to them talking about the scene on the steps where Frodo sends Sam away DX No matter how many times and how many different ways they explain why they did it, the explanations never quite make sense to me. "We needed there to be more tension." WHY WAS IT NOT TENSE ENOUGH THAT THEY WERE GOING INTO THE LAIR OF A HUGE EVIL SPIDER?! "There wasn't really anything happening on the steps otherwise." YEAH, BECAUSE YOU PUT THE WHOLE CONVERSATION ABOUT STORIES IN THE PREVIOUS MOVIE! Also, why not just cut from one or two shots of them climbing this awful staircase to a shot of them entering the cave? "There needed to be a payoff for Gollum's scheming." WHY WAS GOLLUM BETRAYING THEM TO SHELOB NOT ENOUGH OF A PAYOFF?! "We knew InStInCtIvElY that Frodo needed to enter the cave alone." WHY? WHY?! I've never understood that. They get separated eventually in the book, so why not just ramp up the tension of that in the movie, instead of making the characters so OOC? "We knew it would shock readers of the book, and if we'd changed that, what else might we have changed?" You know...I really, really love these movies, and I appreciate what these three were able to accomplish so much...but sometimes I kind of hate them too -_-

The horses didn't want to walk down the hill on the cobbled streets of Minas Tirith, because their steel shoes were so slippery on the stones. So they all had to be re-shod with rubber shoes. What were horseshoes made of back in ye olden days, though? Iron? Did people run into the same problems back then?

I never really noticed this before, but Aragorn never wears Anduril on his belt! He straps it to his horse, and every time you see him with it, he's just holding the naked blade. This is because they made Anduril so long it was really hard for him to wear it from his belt or to pull it out of the scabbard in a natural way XD

The aerial shot of all the Rohirrim leaving Dunharrow was originally shot to show Gandalf's cart heading into the Shire, but since they didn't use it for that, they repurposed it for RotK!

To get Elijah Wood to foam at the mouth when he's stung by Shelob, they gave him two Alka-Seltzer tablets to put in his mouth and work up some foam with his saliva. I've always wondered how they do that sort of thing in movies, but no one's bothered to explain until now....

Sean Astin's audition scene was holding Frodo after Shelob ;A; Apparently, they (or at least Philippa Boyens) were a little skeptical that an American actor would be able to do Sam's character right, but actually a lot of the English actors who auditioned for the role had a hard time with the Shelob aftermath scene, but Sean nailed it :')

Other than the close-ups, they used a dummy for Faramir on the pyre most of the time. Now I'm just imagining John Noble crouching on top of the pyre, cradling a dummy XD

The first Orc that Aragorn kills on Pelennor fields is played by his son Henry! XD

ARE YOU FREAKING KIDDING ME. They actually filmed Sam pushing past the sort of psychic barrier of the Watchers at the gate of Cirith Ungol, but they didn't put it into the extended edition! I love that part. Like...I'm not even sure why, but I've always thought that was such a cool little detail, and I've always been a bit bummed it wasn't in the movie, though I was thrilled to see the actual Watchers at least there as a sort of homage. And all along, they'd actually filmed something for that after all and I never knew! :O

You know, I never thought about it before, but it makes sense that they had to replace the sky digitally in a lot of scenes in Mordor, because of course when they filmed it, the sky wasn't always completely cloudy, but Mordor needs to have a complete cloud cover at all times.

When Fran Walsh and Philippa Boyens first saw the footage of Sam carrying Frodo up Mt. Doom, they sent a fax (lolol 1999/2000 technology) to Sean and Elijah. They made the first page look all formal and official, and then on the second page it just said, "You made us cry." :')

Andy Serkis refused to have Gollum stand on two feet until the scene in the Crack of Doom. There were a few times that PJ directed him to lurch onto his feet or something, but Andy wouldn't do it. He wanted to show the difference in Gollum physically when he has the Ring again. What a cool detail!

Originally, the whole part where Frodo's hanging off the ledge and Sam is begging him to reach for him happens after the Ring is destroyed. It's really interesting to consider the slight nuances of how different that would be. The final version makes it almost seem like the Ring is still calling to Frodo, like he wants to fall into the lava and join it, whereas originally it was more like "I've lost the Ring and now I have nothing left to live for."

PJ made a sweet comment in the scene where everyone bows to the four hobbits: "This is a moment where there's always a huge sniffle in the audience when the movie's going, and it's usually me." XD

ARE YOU KIDDING ME?!?!?! They shot scenes of what happens to the other characters when the hobbits return to the Shire! There is footage out there somewhere of what Legolas and Gimli do, what happens with Faramir and Eowyn!!!! ;aldkfjsd;fkldslfkjd 25th anniversary edition LET'S GOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!

[sso-montana]

horms

do not let his fluffiness fool you, the only braincells he posses are being used for menacing and tomfoolery

fun facts:

the saddle is a trail ride saddle because i looked way too much into western saddles to not share that and potentially forgetting it myself (on the trail ride extras there's also a breast collar, you just can't see it from this angle)

his mom is a jwh who belonged to the warrior tribe and his dad is a shire so he's EXTRA floofy

he was raised and trained by justin (they basically have a brother relationship)

if he likes you he will chew on your hair

grooming him is a nightmare

[m1dnight-blu3]

Gamilith an amrâl: A letter for a lover

Hello, hello!! Here's the first chapter of my new fanfiction - my first AU, my take on the Alternative Meeting AU from the Bagginshield Year.

Tags:

Alternative meeting;

Blacksmith Thorin;

Letters;

Exiled prince Thorin;

Slow Burn;

courting;

happy ending;

meet cute

angst and fluff;

I said I wouldn’t write angst you know like a LIAR

Summary:

Bilbo Baggins’ letter was different from all the others Thorin had received at that time. First, Bilbo actually got his name right. Very little people cared to learn Thorin’s name those days, so most of his packages were sent as “to the blacksmith in the woods”. He used to have a name, a title and a kingdom. And then, after the dragon fire, all was left were ashes, a hunted kingless kingdom and the bitter taste of defeat. Yet, somehow as if a miracle, there is was: “To Mister Thorin, Blacksmith from Erebor”. or Alternative Meeting AU where Blacksmith Thorin meets the most curious hobbit by pure luck. And they fall in love with each line of their letters to each other.

preview of Bilbo's first letter:

“Greeting, Master Thorin. My name is Bilbo Baggins, the rightful heir to Bag End – the loveliest place on Shire, in my most humble opinion.

With winter dreadfully stretching its claws into the Shire, I was reminded of some long awaited repairs that must be done until the longer, colder months come. While chatting with some of my neighbors, your services have been very much recommended – a blessing of Yavanna herself.

You see, we do have a family of barely decent Blacksmiths here in good old Shire. However, all of them are related to Lobelia.

If you are not familiar with that name, and I must add how I envy you for this ignorance, Lobelia Sackville-Baggins is, much unfortunately, my relative. That dreadful, nightmare born of a woman is married to my cousin, Otho – who is just as much of bad news as Lobelia, I must warn. Her greediness knows no limits – always scheming, plans born from her endless gold lust, that terrible woman. Please do apologize what I am about to say – I can swear to you that I was raised to become one of the finest gentlehobbits this blessed Shire has ever seen – However, I would much rather crew off my lovely feet with my own bare teeth than give any of my coin to Lobelia – directly or indirectly. As I worry that even being at the same room as her, breathing the same air and sharing space, would stain my soul.”

Thorin has to stop his reading to take a breather. He hadn’t realized how hard he was laughing until his cheeks started to hurt. Who on Earth was this person?

[conkers-thecosy]

Bagginshield-tober / Day 2 / Garden

Hi guys! Here's my offering for day two of the lovely @smolestboop's "Bagginshield-tober" prompt list 💛

You can also find these little snippets compiled into one fic on AO3

Bilbo is very sneaky in this one, but in the most embarrassingly fluffy way imaginable! Hope you guys enjoy!

~*~*~

“Perhaps some time in the garden would be nice today?”

Summer in the Shire was much warmer than Thorin was used to. Geographically speaking, Ered Luin wasn’t that far away -around three weeks of travel on a good pony- but the mountains were always bound to be cooler. The seasonal difference even across such a short distance was notable, particularly at this time of year

It was the height of August now, and even Bilbo, who seemed to revel in the warmth and sunshine of his home, was starting to show signs of discomfort. They had started leaving many of the windows open at night, and their bedroom doors ajar to help circulate some air. It did help some, particularly in the wee hours of the morning, but it meant that Thorin could hear the Hobbit shifting restlessly in his bed through the night, and his little whimpers and cries as he dreamt and recollected terrible things were even more difficult to ignore.

The guilt gnawed at Thorin, knowing he had put those fears in Bilbo, haunted by his own actions and regrets like a spectre every night, and hating himself for the damage he had caused. It ate at him, and between that, the heat, and his own nightmares, sleep was nigh on impossible. He would sit awake with the heat, then when he became tired enough to sleep, he would become alert at the sounds of Bilbo’s distress from the room next door. When the Hobbit eventually managed to settle himself, Thorin’s own nightmares would keep him from rest. Eventually he would just pass out as dawn was peeking its head above the horizon, but could only gather a few hours before the heat woke him once more. 

This morning, feeling wearier than he had since leaving Erebor in disgrace for the second time in his life, he found an equally exhausted Hobbit waiting in the kitchen for him. They spoke very little, but regarded one another carefully when each thought the other was not, and both failing abysmally. 

Thorin wondered what Bilbo saw. He wondered about that often, truth be told, but tried not to indulge in it too often, for fear of making himself melancholy. Bilbo saw much. More than almost anyone Thorin had ever met, and there was a part of the exiled king that made him wish perhaps he wasn’t quite so good at noticing so much. He found there was much of himself he would prefer the Hobbit didn’t see.

“Perhaps some time in the garden would be nice today?” Bilbo smiled at him from over the rim of his teacup, green eyes bright and knowing and kind. Far too kind. “There’s a little breeze about today, and I’d like to cut back the lavender bushes so I can dry some of the flowers. What do you think? Care to supervise?”

“I would be happy to assist,” Thorin corrected, unsure if he was being asked to help, or being given permission to laze about, but determined not to allow the latter. “Though I do not know which of your many plants are lavender.”

Bilbo sipped the last of his tea and replaced it in the saucer with a wink at Thorin that made his heart speed up a little. “The lavender coloured ones, of course!”

They finished their breakfast, washed the dishes together in companionable, if tired, quietness, then headed out to the back garden. It was a beautiful place, one Thorin had admired greatly when he first saw it - even though Bilbo had brushed aside his praise and admitted to keeping his neighbour, Hamfast Gamgee, as a gardener to tend it. He had been pleased to find the garden in good repair after they had returned to Bag End together, for all the rest of his home had been an empty, dusty shell until they had put it to rights and reclaimed as many of his belongings as possible.

As it turned out, the lavender was actually lavender coloured, and it wasn’t just a joke after all. The flowers were very pretty, tiny, delicate little clusters at the end of long, thin stalks that grew up from leafy little bushels. There were a great many honeybees interested in the flowers, though much smaller than the ones they had seen at Beorn’s, and given the strong scent of the plant, Thorin wasn’t all that surprised. 

“Now, you make sure and tell me if you start to get a headache,” Bilbo wagged a finger at him, looking stern. “I’m personally very fond of the scent, but there are many who have an adverse reaction, so don’t try and be tough about it.”

Thorin promised, and they began to cut back the long row of plants, taking the flower stems right down to the leaves and laying them in bundles along the grass verge. Bilbo chatted while they worked, explaining how he liked to dry the flowers and use them for little scented pillows, as his mother had always been fond of them. He said he would make her a fresh one every year, and since she had passed, he made one for himself, and as gifts instead.

Thorin could understand the appeal of such a thing, they really did smell wonderful. He was pleased to find he had no headache at all, only a lazy sort of contentment as they worked side by side in the sunshine. 

“I think that’s all of them,” Bilbo smiled, wiping sweat from his brow. “Shall we sit in the shade for a little while and take a break?”

The pair of them found a shady spot under a tree, and Bilbo laid back on the cool grass almost immediately. Thorin hesitated for only a moment, before he joined him too, though careful to keep a respectful distance between them. Ordinarily he wouldn’t have laid down at all, but it was very hot, and he had grown very calm and sleepy. So much so that it was all he could do not to close his eyes, the sound of the soft breeze rustling through the trees, and Bilbo humming very gently from beside him…

When he awoke, it was well into the afternoon, and he might have felt guilty or worried for wasting the day, if not for finding Bilbo curled up beside him, sleeping soundly. Thorin watched him for a long moment, resting so peacefully, and close enough that, though they weren’t touching, it would take only the smallest of movements to make it so. 

He felt much better for the sleep, it was true, but there was no rush to wake just yet. Bilbo clearly needed the rest, after all.

[love-toxin]

Just gonna harp on vampire!angleface real quick

During the whole demo bat music distraction it's not just eddie, but you tag-team with him. Instead of him going down, you take the fall to the bats. Cut to devastated fruity four, honestly everyone, they just lost a friend, and the four just lost their love.

Days pass and they can't except your gone, it hurts too much, grief and regret of ever letting you get involved. Eddie feeling so completely like he let you down, he couldn't save you.

Then one night, everyone's sleep is disrupted by noises downstairs, Eddie and Steve heading down to investigate. Robin and Nancy following down when the guys seem to be down there to long, and finding them smothering hugging their angel, though you are clearly more toothy than before. But they don't care! They have their darling back so nothing else in the world matters, at least for the moment.

ohohoho....love me some feral angelface >:).....also dear god steve's fuckin badonkadonk in this gif-

(cws: vampire!f!angelface, fruity four, post-s4, character death, canon divergence, violence, blood + hefty gore imagery, grief/mourning elements, references to s2, some LOTR references, the kids make an appearance, el uses her powers, action sequences to broaden my portfolio heyoo!)

All Eddie remembers is blood. Blood and screaming, wailing, inhuman gurgling and the sounds of flesh tearing away from bone--that's the last image he has of you, your limbs bent at odd angles and your body soaked and slick with blood and viscera, your beautiful face drenched in your own blood and your eyes glossy as you whimpered his name, over, and over, and over, his hands shaking as he held you....and then your last breath left your lungs, and you were gone.

To be completely honest, he would've rather died that night. He's wished for the weeks since your death that he would've taken your place, or if he can be completely selfish, if he had just died along with you if that was to be your fate. The feeling of your hands on his back, shoving him out of the way of that first demobat that spelled out your demise, will haunt him for every miserable day he lives without you.

If nothing else, then at least misery loves company. Because the looks on the other's faces, the kids, when they discovered your fate were....they were just awful. Even worse were his partners. Steve, Robin, and Nancy....though the world was numb to him at that point, their voices muffled as if they were speaking to him through glass, he could hear their anguish. Felt Robin's tears on his cheek as she clung to him and sobbed, listened distantly to Nancy's screams of uncontained rage and grief, breaking anything and everything she could find outside. And Steve just stood there as numb as himself, no doubt running through every single choice he made that had led to your death, as he would for the rest of his life.

Losing you, it's like....like Frodo dying on the crack of Mount Doom. The nightmare was almost over, the enduring march nearly to a close, the burden almost broken. Even if you'd been hurt, you would still return home to the Shire. He would've carried you all the way back, eagles or no eagles, and he would've at least taken your body back through the gate if Dustin hadn't dragged him away. "Can't lose you too!" What fucking bullshit. He would have rather died next to you, if it meant he'd at least be wherever you were. He can't bring himself to blame the poor kid, though, because he's been just as gutted at the loss of you, as have all the other kids when they heard the news. A member of the party gone, never coming home.

There's reminders of you everywhere, both intentional and not. Your room hasn't been touched aside from each of them drifting in every so often, settling into your bed or touching the things that still smell of you. Except for Steve--he can't bring himself to step over the threshold of your bedroom, and usually averts his eyes as he passes by it if the door is left open, if he doesn't close it altogether. The clothes you'd left in the dirty hamper never end up getting washed, and yet the food that's always kept in the kitchen that you loved is constantly restocked, whether they end up having to trash it or not. Your spot on the couch is never sat on, but the mug Eddie bought you for your birthday, your favourite of any you've ever owned, is always full and set at your place at the table for every supper. It's painfully monotonous, the same grief being replayed day after day after day, but the rest of the world spins along like Hawkins hasn't lost the best thing it ever fucking had.

But you're dead. The Shire may as well burn without you--burn it all to the ground, because there's no reason to save it if he won't get to share it with you. It doesn't feel at all worth it to wake up every day after that, knowing there's an empty space in the house you all used to share. The hours drag on every day, and it's a lot of monotony, really. The other three try to busy themselves, but the only one who really understands his inertia is Robin--sometimes she just crawls into bed with him when he can't get up, and lets him hold her until she's called away by one of the others. He loves them, loves them just as he loved you, but things can't be the same now that you're gone no matter what they do or how hard they try.

But then comes the day that Dustin's voice crackles through the walkie. Eddie was actually feeling a little better that morning, had a dip in the afternoon but managed to eat dinner with the rest of them. The seat at the end is still sitting empty, the scarf Robin had clumsily knitted you for the cold season draped over the top. Eddie had swallowed down almost the entire bowl of soup when the static had started up, the radio with ever-changing batteries coming to life where it always sits on the kitchen counter.

"Code Red! Code Red! Come in, Riders of Rohan! Steve, fucking pick up the--zzt--goddamn walkie!"

The man in question had rushed out of his seat to squabble back at Dustin through the receiver, annoyed but clearly concerned as he demanded to know the problem--what warranted using the emergency channel when they haven't heard news of any "aftershocks" so to speak, for a while.

"Something's going on--shit, bring your guns, and the bat, too! Meet up at the cellar behind my house--zzt!"

The end of the transmission trails off, and like a group of professional first responders, the four of them forget any further questioning when Steve's frantic palm hitting the side of the radio, and his shout of Dustin's name offers no results. They jump right into action, knocking over their chairs as they scramble through the house to gather their tools--even Eddie, who hurries straight for the broom closet where he's kept his spear and shield from that night. When he throws open the door and reaches for where he knows they're propped up, he hesitates. A flash of a memory zips through his mind.

They didn't save her, so what use are they?

But he ignores that thought. For now, at least, and he grabs both of them to haul them towards the front door. Nancy flips up the window seat in the living room to take out her hidden guns, the shotgun gripped tight in her hand while she tosses the pistol at Robin, and the revolver's handed to Steve for him to stick into the back of his belt--he prefers the bat, though. More control. More familiar.

All suited up, they tear out of the driveway of Steve's otherwise empty house, his BMW kicking up a spray of gravel as he skids on to the road and speeds like a demon towards the Henderson house. They pull up on to the property in record time, barely waiting for Steve to roll to a stop before the three of them are hitting the ground and running around the side of the building--and just about pull their guns on Mike and Will when they come round out of the darkness with a flashlight to meet them, the poor kids almost pissing themselves with respective shrieks as Nancy jerks the muzzle and aims it right at her brother's forehead. With a "Christ, Mike!" and a gasp of relief, she lowers it immediately and follows them as they run down the hill towards those infamous cellar doors, where Dustin, Max, Lucas, and El are all waiting. Steve's the one that runs right to his little protégé, a hand outstretched to grab his baseball cap-clad head as he demands to know the status of everyone.

Eddie himself lingers behind them, garnering a few piteous stares from the other kids. They must know his state of being from what the others have told them, and how they haven't seen much of him since the incident--but they probably didn't know he'd be so quiet, his eyes heavy with bags that his night terrors have kept around, and his stature more hunched and thin and gaunt than before. El seems especially sensitive to his presence, despite knowing little of him personally, and she touches his arm when he gets close with a look of sympathy written clear on her features. It's....surprisingly comforting. Even moreso from a little superhero like her.

And before Dustin can say more than just confirm that everyone present is fine, the heavy metal doors in the ground start to rattle. Not just once, and not gently--they shake violently, a menagerie of sounds emanating from within that resemble that of a monster. The worst of which is the guttural, animalistic growling, that renders everyone silent and sobered as they stare down at the locked cellar.

"Dustin, what the hell is down there?" The curly-haired kid shrugs his shoulders, looking back at Steve with wide eyes that say "How the fuck should I know?" before their attention is drawn back by another rattle and an unsettingly familiar screech.

"Whatever it is, it needs to die." Nancy mutters with finality, cocking her shotgun to ready it and simultaneously humbling everyone present in the same moment. She's more than proven her worth with a firearm at this point. Another rattle, and she doesn't flinch, just stares down the invisible enemy behind the barrier.

These particular doors have been chained shut with a padlock for some time, which is the only reason the shaking doors don't buckle as whatever is inside fights to get out. When a rougher one kicks up, Steve motions for the kids to stand back and keep their flashlights off, asking that cryptic question to his best friend of whether the hole is still there.

"Duh! How would I explain that to my mother? I already had to figure out the whole cat situation."

"Well, I think we know how whatever it is got in there, then, dingus." Steve replies, and Dustin pales as another thud makes them all jump. The older boy waves them back further, and only then does El let go of Eddie's sleeve, moving to stand between Will and Mike as they get back by the trees that border Dustin's backyard.

The four of them then approach the cellar from all sides out front, facing off with that slanted door and readying each of their weapons. Safeties off, bat readied over the shoulder, shield up and spear poised. As ready as they should have been when you needed them. That's what drills through Eddie's head as his heart thuds wildly in his ears.

"Eddie-" Steve turns to say something more, eyes filled with conflict at watching one of the people he loves face death again. Something about all this feels too familiar, but Eddie can't get his mind off the fury that's bubbling in his chest as the doors start thudding even louder and a howling rises out from behind them.

"Let's rip this fucking thing to pieces."

He growls, and turns his head over his shoulder to match the gaze of the brown-haired girl watching his every move--and when he nods, she returns it back to him with just as much determination, and raises her hand with a tremble to her fingers. With a moment to focus, she stares down the chains that circle round the handles, and flexes her pointer finger with the slightest pull for the padlock to shatter open and the chains to fall and slide down to the ground underneath.

Almost immediately, the doors fly open at once and the democreature explodes into view, but it somehow isn't at all what any of them expected to see. The mass of flesh and wrinkled, gray skin speckled with dirt and dried blood is familiar, but it is clearly entangled in a struggle with another of the same kind as they burst out the cellar doors and skid across the grass, right between Steve and Eddie's legs and into the clearing just in front of the kids. And a sequence of events spring into action almost immediately following that, the encounter like a flash of action that Eddie would much rather experience in D&D than real life again.

Steve turns on his heel to shout "Out of the way!" as the kids scream in horror and the democreatures break apart--but when he does, another bat flies out of the dark, open cellar and crashes into his back, sending him sprawling to the ground face-first with a cry, his grip still tight on the handle of his bat. Behind him, Nancy's turning to aim her weapon at the same bats he'd had his eye on, while Robin rushes forward to rear up a kick on the one clinging to the back of Steve's neck. And when two more come flying out, flapping their wings and screeching, a curse rips out of Eddie's throat as his vision goes red and he stabs at the nearest one with a violent battle cry, spearing it almost perfectly through the stomach and slinging the spear in an arc to fling the twitching, lifeless body off and send it rolling across the lawn. Blood splatters over the grass and the next one is about to get the same treatment, just as Robin's knocked Steve's attacker off and shot at it frantically, leaving three or four gaping holes in its body and the ground, but Eddie's next swing misses and so does Nancy's carefully aimed shot at one of the two facing off with each other. The two of them still don't stop thrashing, teeth tearing brutally into each other like they've got some kind of personal vendetta between predator and predator, even as they narrowly miss a killshot with a roll of entwined bodies across the dirt.

But just as she's cocking her gun again, and the kids are hurriedly backing away with their hands on each other to brace themselves, Eddie's heart sinks, and then stops. The bat he had missed flies overhead, circling with more screeches as it must realize it's outnumbered--but it's also bleeding, even though none of them have grazed it. And all four of them watch in shock as one of the ones on the ground lets out its own screech, distinct in how loud and gurgly it sounds, as if it has blood welling up in a non-existent throat. It flaps up and slides back in the direction of the kids, but it doesn't face them. It spreads its wings and bares its fangs at the other bat it's been tangled with, as if it's somehow not only brimming with vengeance, but also trying to protect the party members watching on in empty-handed horror.

"Nancy, don't-!" With only a second to react, Eddie's focus zeroes in on the sound of Nancy raising her gun, head turning and fingers roughly grabbing the barrel to shove it away--and when she misfires at the ground nearby, startled at his intervention, the wounded bat and the one flying overhead both startle at the sound and lunge. One goes for the bigger, oddly-behaving one, but the one above them dives down at a concentrated target--him.

And it hits, collides with him square in the chest just as he's shoving Nancy away, and his world tips as the shield and spear fall from his hands and he shrieks and stumbles back--but the sensation of falling dizzies him as it lasts too long, and pain cracks through his skull at the same time he gasps out for oxygen, the air knocked straight out of his lungs as he hits the concrete stairs and slides all the way down to the bottom. The world there is dark, and cold, and hazy, his vision blurred with black as the screams of his most beloved loves of his life ring in his ears, and his body jerks in pain as the demobat sinks its teeth into his supple chest to devour him. And the only clarity he has is in his thoughts. I'm getting my just desserts. This is what I deserve.

What he doesn't know, what he can't see from where he lies or register in his concussed head, is that the end is far from near. He's not alone, and though it feels as miserable as that place as the monster tears into his flesh, he's not in the Upside Down anymore. Hope soon arrives in the form of that larger, oddly-behaving bat as it soars down the arc over the steps with its attacker still hanging by its heavy wing, and Eddie chokes and gasps for air again when his savior swings its dogged-down limb and knocks his attacker off with its own. The two offending creatures fly with a pathetic shrieking noise before hitting the concrete wall of the cellar, shelves rattling beside it as the two bodies leave cracks behind before they collapse to the ground. Dizzied, they wobble back up to full height with the help of their injured wings, hissing back at him and the heroic bat that's now perched itself on top of his bleeding chest. The howling, gurgly cry that it bellows at the two of them as they start approaching doesn't help his pounding head, but the intimidation keeps them at bay long enough for Steve and Robin to come running down the stairs with their hands free. The kids and Nancy aren't far behind as they wait at the top and shout their names in a panic to hurry them along, the bat on his chest not breaking the outnumbered staredown and threatening hisses even as it eases itself off of him, not even glancing at his heroes as his two partners rush to grab each arm of his and pull him up to half-carry, half-drag him back up the stairs and out of immediate danger.

Steve's hand instantly comes up to cradle his lolling head when the cool air fills his lungs, terror flaring up on his face as he finds his boyfriend's hair slick with blood from a gash against his skull. He pulls him back out of the way for Nancy to assume her position at the top of the stairs, and aim her sights down to shoot anything that dares to come back up. Eddie's trying to get those words out, warn her dazedly not to hurt the big one, don't touch it, please--but it doesn't matter, in the end.

Because in the next minute or two, all they hear is violent screeching, thrashes, clattering and the heavy thuds of things falling off shelves, and the pained cries of animals tearing each other apart. With only the light of the moon overhead and the small beams of light that the kids' flickering flashlights illuminate against the darkness, they see very little save for a few glimpses of wings and splatters of blood--but when it all grows quiet, each one of them waits in fearful anxiety, until the soft gurgles and sound of nails clacking against concrete fill the tense silence.

Something shifts, and a groan rises up out of the dark, strange enough that Nancy readjusts her hold on the gun, and takes several steps back and to the side to get a better shot if need be. In a moment their flashlights all go out completely, and the sounds of Lucas, Mike, and Will nervously smacking their tools with the palms of their hands soon get shushed by Robin, her hand outstretched to give them pause while her other one protectively grips Eddie's arm. A soft, sudden thud echoes off the walls down the steps, and all heads turn to the source with a held breath as the first is followed by several more. Closer, and closer, and closer, like footsteps--until the moonlight meets skin, scarred and glossy with all manner of blood, and eyes that glimmer and reflect back their shocked stares as they watch the figure emerge. Eddie truly can't believe what he's seeing, thinking completely that he's trapped in a concussion-induced hallucination.

Because there's no way you're standing at the top of the steps. Your clothes tattered and gashed in the places he watched you get bitten to shreds, your skin lifeless and cold, yet your mouth dripping with blackened ooze--and when you open it, it's to spit out a chunk of bloodied gray flesh that shlups against the dirt, clearly torn straight from your enemy with the aid of those fangs that gleam with blood.

You're dead. But you're standing right there, the sight of you gives him the strength to straighten up in Steve's embrace, and when he meets your eyes they pierce right through his soul. For that moment, he naively wonders with guilt hanging down his shoulders whether....whether you're gonna hurt them, too. Whether you're a monster disguised as the girl he's loved more than his own life, risen up from the Upside Down to torture them all into the same death you suffered.

But while he's doubting himself, doubting you, there's one person there that doesn't waste a second. El comes sprinting up to you with a shocked grin like what just happened never did, and steps over the mouthful of bat-flesh you spat out to throw her arms around you in a tight hug. And before you've even managed to get your own arms back around her, Dustin's rushing by next, his hat flying off and tumbling to the ground as he hugs your side, nuzzled up underneath your elbow. You squeeze them both so tight, your features relaxing from that intense focus to pure relief, and by the time they're pulling away to give you room Eddie's found himself shambling towards you. He uses Steve and Robin's hands for balance at first, still shaky from getting his brain knocked around his skull--but when he reaches out for you, you meet him with a single step, and catch him against your chest as he collapses into it. Tears already pouring out of him with choked-up sobs to match, he trembles like a leaf when you send a gurgly whisper into his ear.

"I missed you, Eddie."

He could just drop to his knees at that moment, but your voice renews his strength, and he clings to you even tighter as warmer bodies cluster around him and you. Robin hugs your side and Nancy drops her gun to huddle up to the opposite one, with Steve circling his big arms around nearly all three of you to hug you so tight it hurts. But through tears Steve's laughing for the first time in months, and so is Robin, while Nancy's buried her face in your neck and Eddie has a kiss already pressed to your bloody cheek. They'll only get a little longer to bask in the glory of having you return from the dead, because soon enough the tension has totally lifted and the other kids are burrowing past the adults to get in their own hugs. Especially Max and Will, who can't help but start laughing along with the older ones as they push past "you big gross lovebirds" to get to the friend they thought they'd lost forever. It's a moment Eddie's craved so deeply but could never believe he'd have, not even in his deepest fantasies, because to even imagine how things could be different is too painful when reality has been beating him down all this time.

The moment isn't destined to last, either. Because in as sobering a way as possible to remind you all of your current situation, a terrifying howl echoes from the depths of the cellar and you all break apart to turn towards it. It's deep enough that whatever it is isn't upon you yet, but Eddie watches as he gets another taste of your newfound instincts--you throw your arms out in front of everyone standing close to the doors, and face down the pitch darkness with a fury etched into your face that he can truly empathize with. With one word growled out in that guttural yet incredibly sexy voice, "Back", all of them shuffle back a generous distance from the danger zone, save for your partners. Including himself, despite just now finding enough steadiness to stand on his own as he bends down to grab his abandoned weapons, still sitting where he'd dropped them upon being attacked. You look amongst them with worry tracing your expression, so familiar it's like he's seeing the girl he knew before all of this, before she became something else. But the others pick up their weapons, and stand unflinching as a much greater screech rattles the window panels on the Henderson house just over the hill.

"You're not gonna face them alone this time, sweetheart." Eddie feels his own voice rumble in his throat, and finds the smile he thought he'd never show again as you look back at him with that darling sweetness in your own.

"Never. We're with you." Steve joins in, shaking his head as he pulls the revolver out from his belt, and swings the bat around in tight circles with his other clenched fist. Nancy's concentration grows hard again as she glares down at whatever's preparing to come out, her trigger finger steady as ever, while Robin checks her pistol's magazine and clicks it back in before aiming it with a confidence he's rarely seen.

And you get a wild look in your eyes, the smell of hotly pumping blood exciting your senses as you stretch out your fingers--and in a transformation so fast it would be missed within a blink, Eddie watches in awe as your body contorts in a sudden jerk before exploding into a mass of dark, taut flesh running rife with veins and pulsing muscles. Your wings outstretch in place of arms, and you somehow look even larger up close, easily dwarfing any inferior creature with size and with vicious fervor--and when you release a warning screech into the night, the rumbling of whatever is fast approaching grows louder, and all five of you ready yourselves one last time for a fight. But this time, together.

[symphonyofsilence]

Everytime I see those tearful arguments between Elrond & Arwen in TTT, & the elves parting from ME in groups, I remember that Bilbo is at that time living in Rivendell.

Like he first came there with his merry band of dwarves, and the elves sang silly songs for them & messed around with them & Bilbo got an invitation from a cheerful Elrond to stay there if he wants, & then Bilbo spent a nice calming time there on his way back to Shire, in which the elves teased him about his snoring.

So years later, in his retired days he decided to take Elrond up on his offer, & then! Everyone left Rivendell! Almost no elves left! Even Elladan & Elrohir are not home! And Arwen just lies in her bed 24/7, reads John Green, and cries, and Elrond plays sad harp & smokes cigarettes. And the family dinners are a fucking nightmare as Bilbo tries to think of a topic for conversation while Arwen & Elrond sit in silence & it seems like if the fork makes the wrong sound hitting the plate they'll burst into tears.

[bluebellhairpin]

Thorin Oakenshield X Fem!Reader

Summary; Meeting up with Thorin's Company at Bag End didn't go as smoothly as anyone expected. But as the journey to Erebor begins, eventually everyone settles into a new rhythm of normal - even you and Thorin.

Warnings; Mentions of nightmares/visions of the future. Reader is female-body-coded, uses she/her pronouns, and is Human.

Listening to; 'Noble Maiden Fair' from Brave - "Sun and moon, guide us, to the hour of our glory and honor."

Part 2

Series Masterlist || Masterlist || Ko-Fi

This is a re-write of a old series! If you'd like to read the original, you can find it Here.

Waking up in a strange place, with little to no memory of the events of the day before, had sent you into a panic. 

When things started coming back to you like second nature - your name, places, how to do things and live - you figured, maybe, this wasn’t something to be so worried about. 

Maybe it happened often? 

You wandered a lot, and on your wanderings down in a place called the Brown Lands, you met someone. Not a man - a wizard - Gandalf was his name, somehow you knew it without him even telling you. You trusted him easily, as if you did know him already - something deep inside told you he wasn’t going to hurt you, that he was good - so when he gave you a map to the Shire - to Bag End - after a meal you shared, you took it with a nod. 

The place you needed to go wasn’t far away, a few days of swift travel on horseback and you could be there - but you had no horse - and from what Gandalf said, it would be quite the dangerous journey. Weapons that would’ve been needed were not something you had on hand either. So you stayed in that small town working your arse off in order to have enough favours to pull to get you the resources needed - sturdier clothes, a bigger travel pack, food that could last, a sword, and a horse. 

It took you less than two weeks. 

You picked out a study mountain horse, with a dark coat and lighter colored mane. His owner said his name was Phar Lap. He was perfect. 

You soon found your way over the mountain ranges that lead towards Bree, and by the time you'd made it to Bag End on the night Gandalf said you should be there by, you had already quite a journey and story under your coat to tell. 

You’d tied up your horse, and let yourself into the Hobbit-Hole. The door was left cracked open, and no one answered when you lightly rapped against the window. 

Ducking in and making your way through hall into the atrium outside the dining room, the dwarfs in your eyeline went silent. 

You were relieved to see that everyone Gandalf said would be there had arrived already. The hobbit in front of you followed their gazes and looked over at you, as did the dwarf sitting at the table’s head and Gandalf. The other dwarfs moved to try and see you better.

“And who might you be?” The Hobbit - Bilbo, something in your mind whispered - asked, already irritated from his unexpected guests, but by the dwarfs reaction he guessed you were definitely uninvited, and therefore was even less pleased. 

“I invited her, she shall be our number fifteen.” Gandalf said, taking a blow of his pipe. “She’s here to help.” he added and sat back up. 

“To take back the mountain, Erebor. Gandalf told me much about your journey already, I’m more than willing to help you.” You said. Something about being in this situation had you giddy. Like you’d been waiting much longer than you knew to be able to meet them - and help them. 

“Why might we need your help?” The dwarf at the head said. Thorin, that same voice told you. He quickly ruined your pleasant mood and stood to emphasize his protest - even though he just reached your chin when standing at his full height, he was still making you want to shrink in on yourself. “You aren’t a dwarf, and yet you’re too small, too weak. You’re no Hobbit burglar either. What could you possibly do to help us?” You eyed Thorin, weary, but wondering if he could really be so hostile to a stranger who was offering their help. 

“I know things. I see how events play out in dreams.”

“Oh and what use is that exactly?” 

“You’re asking me that? You willingly have a wizard in your company, and you’re asking me how visions of the future would help you?” You were very quick to bite back at him, to match his hostility. “I wouldn’t have travelled all the way from The Brown Lands to help you if I doubted if the visions were true. Gandalf wouldn’t have told me to come if he thought I was too weak or small.” All eyes then turned to Gandalf, of which was pretending he hadn’t quite heard you.

“I already told you she’s here to help. I’ve spoken, if you wish to ignore me that will be your fault.” He said promptly after seeing too many eyes on him. 

“I don’t mind her coming!” A young blond dwarf said, a smile cracking onto his face as he playfully hit the shoulder beside him - his brother, Kili- on the shoulder. “We could use a pretty face among all the ugly mugs here.” 

You looked over at the two younger dwarves bitterly, as the others erupted in laughter. “I’m well aware I’m the only woman here, but I won’t be reduced down to just a pretty face.” A quiet fell into the group as the laughter died down, your stern eyes receiving nods, and mutterings of ‘fair enough’. 

“I don’t wish to sound like I’m doing what you just asked me not to do,” A dwarf who looked much too young to be among his associates stood, “But I want you to know that I think you are really, really pretty.” You took in a deep breath, and sighed with a smile. 

“Thank you, Ori.” you blurted. You hand even covered your own mouth at the surprise you had for knowing his name. The Company themselves went into an uproar - partially out of annoyance that Ori was the first to tell you his thoughts and get away with it - and partially out of confusion as to how you knew Ori’s name even though you just got here. 

“Who are you?” A rough shove to your arm brought your attention back to - Thorin, “And tell me what else can do you, or do we have to still protect you despite your ‘visions’?”

You told him your name. “I can use a sword well, quick thinking - I can hold my own very well in a fight -”

“Fight? Against what? A measly elf?” You felt your eye twitch. He was frustrating you more and more. If he kept this up, your anger would win over how much you wanted to help them. And you wanted that so dearly. You felt anger bubble inside you, ready to burst, but Gandalf interrupted, ducking his head into the conversation. 

“Not elves, but she has had more than her fair share of orcs. Even a troll or two.” he said as you turned away to regain your composure, missing the flash of knowing hurt and regret on Thorin’s face before he spoke. 

“I didn’t know.” He said. 

“You couldn’t have, you don’t know me.” You replied, giving a small smile to let him know it was alright. For now. 

“So is she coming?” Bilbo asked, popping himself into Thorin and your conversation much like the wizard did. “Because I would feel more comfortable coming if there was someone who knows what’s going to happen coming along.” He finished. Thorin took a few more moments to think, looking you up and down as he did so. 

“I suppose so. The worst she can do is die.” And just like that, the anger was back. 

“I can see how grateful you are to my offer of help, Thorin. I shall take my leave instead of staying around and helping the likes of you.” you said and made your way back out of Bilbo’s house and into the crisp night air. Bilbo himself came after you, almost pleading with you to stay a join anyway, or make everyone else leave with you.

“You will need to go after her, Thorin.” Gandalf said, peering down at the dwarf. “You have to bring her back here.” 

“Why should I? She’ll be nothing but trouble, even if she can hold her own in battles.” Thorin said, his stubborn irrationality kicking in again. He just couldn’t see why he needed you. 

“You yourself noted she was neither Hobbit or Dwarf. What business do I have inviting an ordinary human on this journey?” With Gandalf’s question Thorin seemed to slowly understand. “To tell you the truth, unknown to herself, she is not of this world. She was sent from another specifically to help you reclaim Erebor, to keep those close to you safe until then with her visions - memories.” 

Gandalf took a puff of his pipe, and Thorin blinked, letting the words sink in.  

“She’s suffered quite enough at the hands of this world’s darker forces to be able to be here tonight, if that alone isn’t enough reason to let her stay with you then you have a denser skull than I remembered.” Gandalf had a point. Thorin was being unreasonably mean. Even when his own kin were unwilling to help, you were here. 

Thorin looked over at Balin, who was sitting and listening intently to Gandalf's words. He nodded at Thorin to go after you. Thorin clenched his jaw, let out a yell of frustration, then stormed out. He reached past the front door, pushed past Bilbo, and stomped angrily towards where you went.

A call of your name had you turning on your heel. 

“Wait.” Your eyes almost flashed in the darkness under the fur of your hood, daring Thorin to insult you again, but instead they widened at his changed declaration. “You will come with us as Gandalf is advising, and… I’ll try to act more agreeable towards you.”

He couldn’t meet your eyes as he spoke, though. Instead taking a great interest in the hem of your coat. 

“You mean less like a jerk, and more like a king?” your head tilted, trying not to let a smirk reach your lips - though somehow you thought he wouldn’t have seen your expression anyway. 

“I suppose so.” Thorin said through gritted teeth. “Especially if you decide to be nice in turn.” 

“I’m only nice to those who give me reason, your majesty.” you mocked. Thorin felt his frustration rise once more. He sensed you’d be the death of him  - of he of you - if you both kept this up. You smirk widened - although there was no joy behind it - as you started walking past him. “Careful there, you might turn ‘unagreeable’ again.” 

“If you want to keep vexing me, I’ll-”

“You’ll what?” you turned, facing the equally angry dwarf, of which was now eye-level to you from the hills slope. “You’ll let - no - force  me to leave and let your fate, and the fate of the rest of the Company reach the same end that I’ve seen? Trust me - you don’t want what’s coming.” Your voice was quiet, eyes even darker in the night. You watched as his jaw ticked, nose flaring in an effort to keep himself under control. “You do not want more dragon-fire. More lives slain at the hands of orcs. I’ve seen death, blood shed. I see it each and every night when I sleep, Thorin.” 

“Well, what choice do you give me now?” Your eyes locked in a fierce hold. Your words hurt Thorin. Gandalf said you were here to help and keep those of the Company safe - you knew their future. If you were saying these things, saying you were to help keep them away from such a horrible fate - one he’d seen bestowed upon many before him - who was he to keep you away?

That alone made him more lenient. You must’ve seen it in his eyes. 

“Fine.” You said with a huff. “You may be a king but that doesn’t mean you can be pardoned for acting so horrendously. Even so I will strike a deal with you.” 

“Like what?” 

“We try not to speak to each other, not to be near each other. Try to stay as far away from each other as possible so we don’t have to fake being civil.” You started, meeting Thorin’s blue eyes once more. They almost looked like they were glowing in the moonlight.” I think I’d be able to bear you much more if I didn't have to speak to you so often.” 

“I’d have to agree.” He rumbled. 

“We have a deal then?” you asked, sticking your hand out for him to shake. He grabbed hold of your hand, holding it a little too tight.

“Deal.”

Days passed, slowly turning into weeks, and for what it’s worth your plan had worked. Mostly. 

You could easily assume Thorin’s temper flared against you just as often as it would’ve if you hadn’t agreed on a deal at all. Honestly yours did too - but only ever to meet his. You tried your best to be civil. But banter turned to bickering, and bickering - when given the chance - would turn to arguments. Tension was building, and often you didn’t know what kind it was exactly. 

The Company had stopped for the night to rest under a rocky crevice. Thorin was set to start on the first watch with Fili and Kili before you took over with Dwalin and Ori. You decided to stay up with them. Balin often told stories, and the story Balin would tell tonight would be one you decided not to miss. 

Tonight was the story of how Thorin gained the name Oakenshield. Balin told it very well. He often had you enraptured with his decade of tales - you soaked them up like a sponge. Instead of staring at the storyteller to take in every word, you watched Thorin, as everyone did, and found yourself standing with the rest of the company out of respect for your leader and king. 

You knew orcs, they'd caused you pain, physical and emotional. Fighting one was enough for you, but an army would take being possessed by the spirits of a thousand warriors. They'd left scars on you - also physical and emotional - and too those wouldn't go away. 

You’d always respect Thorin for what he went through, what he did - even if he chose to act like a jerk to you. 

With the story told, the night lulled. Dwarves curled up to snore each other to sleep, and you rolled up in your blanket to sleep.

Trees framed your dream. 

They peeled back, revealing where you were resting. You knew there were other vantage points where you could see your camp from, you didn’t know how you got there though. 

You moved further back, and beside you were wild, vicious beasts. Wargs. Atop them were Orcs. Their eyes flashed in the dark, speaking in tongues you didn’t understand. They turned away, seething, but pleased.

You shot up, reaching a hand for your aching head. Now awake, you took your eyes over a turn of the group. Everyone was here. The bile that rose in your mouth quickly went away. 

You were safe, for now. 

You looked back at Gandalf, of which had sensed your dream and was keeping a keen eye on you as you woke. Your face had gotten dull, he was worried, but he’d come to understand that some things couldn't be shared.

“My my, you look like you’ve seen a ghost.” Bofur said from a way across the camp. Unlike Gandalf, the Company didn’t yet fully understand the lengths of your visions. You often had to make up reasons as to why you suddenly looked so shocked, or somber. 

“It’s nothing. Just a bad dream.” 

“Must’ve been something pretty scary. Perhaps you could spin a tale of sorts?” Bofur prodded, some of the other Company soon turned to face you. Apparently less of them were sleeping than you thought. 

“No. No, I’m no good at telling stories.” 

“What about a song? It doesn’t have to be a scary one.” Bofur took a puff of his pipe, smugly pushing his agenda. “We haven’t heard a single tale from you yet, I think it’s about time if I do say so myself.” 

“Maybe another time, Bofur.” He looked at you, watching as you shoved your hands under your blankets, folding your knees to your chest. He seemed to take the hint, and left you alone, instead now humming a tune of his own.

Thorin looked over to watch you as you settled down again. He’d never seen you wake from a vision before. He never realized exactly what they did to you. 

He kept looking between you and the fire to try and make it look like he wasn’t staring. After your waking, it was almost as if he saw you in a new light. Like one switch of many was suddenly turned on inside his mind which enabled him to really see you. 

Sure, he’d seen you before, but only superficially, not like this. 

This was deeper. 

It suddenly occurred to him that - even if you didn’t know it - you had a life back where you came from. A family, friends, maybe even a lover or children. You’d been through hell to get to Bilbo’s that night you first met, only for him to treat you like you were nothing. 

Now, he felt pretty bad about it, regretted it even, and felt the strange need to make it up to you.

The problem was he didn’t really know how. 

He didn’t know what you liked. Mahal by his pride he wasn’t going to apologize - and he figured from your character you wouldn’t think it meant a whole lot anyway. 

He thought about getting you something Dwarrowdam’s liked, pick something up for you on your travels as a gift - but you weren’t a dwarf. The chances of you liking what he’d find you were slim. He then seemed to be hit with an epiphany. Even if you didn’t know where it was, you wanted to go home - a place you’d be sent back to once your purpose was fulfilled. 

You wanted the same as him, to return home. He’d help you fulfil your purpose. He’d help you to go home, and be with those who you’d want to be with the most. 

You’d forgive him after that. Surely. Even without an apology.

[pipe-weeds]

-ˏˋ 𝐌𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐒 𝐎𝐅 𝐃𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐂𝐈𝐓𝐘, 𝐟𝐭. 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐝𝐨 𝐛𝐚𝐠𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐬.

✧ ˖ ° in other words, the little things he does that make your heart flutter. includes mostly fluff and some angst. posted april 1, edited april 20.

⋆ ˚ ✦ a/n - first time writing for lotr (also requests are open)!!! i just watched the movies, and i love them!!! frodo and pippin have my heart!

Most of the time, Frodo just wants to feel your touch, eager to feel any semblance of a former life.  He often keeps his hands busy, fiddling with the ring in his pocket or biting on his fingernails.  Frodo loves having your hand in his, with it being a constant reassurance that everything will be alright.

Moreover, Frodo likes when you play with his hair.  Whenever the two of you have a moment to rest, you often find yourself braiding his curly locks and daydreaming out loud.  He tells you stories Bilbo told him as a child (more specifically, the reclaiming of Erebor, with the omission of Bilbo’s wildly exaggerated details) while you languidly twirl his hair around your finger, enjoying one of the few and rare moments of tranquility.

The other hobbits relentlessly tease Frodo about his profound admiration towards you.  Frodo talks about you to anyone willing to listen (usually Samwise Gamgee) and rambles about you in journals.  While Merry playfully teases Frodo for his lovesick ramblings, Sam thinks they’re romantic.

Whenever you and Frodo have a moment to rest, he finds solace in your company, content with simple silence.  Above all else, Frodo simply enjoys your presence; the thought of you alone soothes him and puts his mind at ease.

Most nights end with being in each other’s arms, huddled against him for warmth, as he lulls you to sleep with a Hobbit lullaby from his childhood.  It’s difficult to sleep on a bed of rocks and without soft sheets, but there’s some comfort found in Frodo’s words.  However, not all nights are as serene and quiet; there are nights you and Frodo remain restless and converse for hours, reminiscing about better times.  Yet, no matter how melancholy you may be, those nights always end in the same way: Frodo peppering kisses all over your cheeks and whispers of I love you.

With each step toward Mordor, memories of the Shire grow fainter.  As a ringbearer, the stark possibility of death looms over his mind, haunting him as a nightmare does to one in slumber.  To him, it’s inevitable. In return, he never passes up the opportunity to express his admiration, realizing that every moment with you might be his last.

Frodo knows you better than you know yourself.  The hobbit is a great listener; he memorizes the little and nonsensical things like your favorite flower, food, and color.

He’s also attentive and catches on to your emotions quickly.  If you’re feeling downhearted, Frodo will lend his ears and listen, helping to quell the unease inside you.

Despite the circumstances, you always bring a smile to Frodo’s face.  Your companionship makes Frodo easily forget about the ring around his neck and the horrors you’ve faced since the departure from Bag End.  In his eyes, you’re a gift from the heavens, and he’s forever grateful that you’ve chosen to stay by his side.

[trahald-the-burrower]

Sméagol and Frodo Music Video - Meet Me in the Woods

I made this as a tribute of Sméagol and Frodo's relationship. A lot of the time I am showing the similarities between them, how they went from living happy peaceful lives to being tormented by the Ring, having to leave their homes, seeing horrors, being overtaken by darkness.

Then they come together, and there is beauty and shared hurts and understanding... but they end up betraying each other.

Here it is on YouTube:

(More descriptive below if you want to know the meaning behind everything, I was very deliberate with the making of this music video:)

The intro: Frodo and Sméagol living peaceful lives. It's sad because this is what they lost. This shows ways they relate, part of what creates their understanding of one another.

I took a little journey to the unknown: Frodo's journey with the Ring. Traveling across Middle-Earth, to Mordor. Sméagol going to the Misty Mountains after being banished from family. Both leaving their peace and happiness because of the Ring. More showing why they understand one another.

I come back changed, I can feel it in my bones: Frodo returns to the Shire unable to fully heal. Sméagol begins his transformation. (If there was footage, I would have showed Sméagol returning home to his family, changed, but we didn't get that)

I fucked with forces that our eyes can't see: Sauron is the unseen force that they both are tormented by.

And now the darkness got a hold on me: Both succumbing to the power of the Ring.

Ooohh, ladadada: Sméagol chokes Déagol/Frodo puts a knife to Sam's throat.

Ooohh, ladadada: Frodo is tempted to put on the Ring/Sméagol puts on the Ring.

Similar experiences.

How long, baby, have I been away?: Sméagol at the edge of the mountains, having been banished from home.

It feels like ages, though you say it's only days: It's not been that long since Frodo left the Shire, but it feels so much longer.

There ain't language for the things I've seen, yeah: SméaGollum being violently tortured by orcs, by Sauron's Black Hand. Frodo witnessing the true forms of the Nazgul.

And the truth is stranger than my own worst dreams: Frodo sees the eye of Sauron once wearing the Ring. I'm sure that's stranger than any dream he's had, can't even think that sort of horrific thing up.

The truth is stranger than all my dreams: Same as above, they've faced horrors in the real life that are worse than I'm sure they could have imagined prior to the Ring. I showed both Frodo and Sméagol waking up from nightmares because I love the mirroring. That mirroring is peppered throughout the entire trilogy.

Oh, the darkness got a hold on me: The first time Frodo snaps at Sam, the darkness of the Ring beginning to poison him. Then the transition from Gollum to Sméagol.

They have practically the same exact experience.

I put the first chorus from Frodo's point of view.

I have seen what the darkness does: Frodo has indeed seen. Sméagollum is living proof. And he's experiencing it himself.

Say goodbye to who I was: Frodo is no longer that smiley Hobbit he once was.

I ain't never been away so long, don't look back them days are gone: Frodo weeps for his old life, weeps over the burden he now has. And he says don't look back, those days are gone. He has to let it go and move forward and destroy the Ring.

Follow me into the endless night: Frodo manipulatively leads Sméagol out of the Forbidden Pool...

I can bring your fears to life: ... resulting in Sméagol being captured by the men, to be beaten mercilessly. This was one of Sméagollum's biggest fears-- he needed protection, he trusted Frodo. Frodo said he'd look after him, and Frodo broke that promise. Betrayed by the only person he thought he could trust. The fear doesn't come just from being hurt, but from being betrayed by the only other person he had feelings for in over 500 years.

Show me yours, and I'll show you mine: A fear they both share -- the Ring.

Meet me in the woods tonight: I look at these particular lyrics as metaphorical more than literal, basically saying that all the lyrics that came before, is what he is offering. It's an invitation. "let us come together, meet me eye to eye. Let me see you, I'll let you see me, even if it will hurt us." So I used the footage of Frodo questioning Sméagol, Sméagol lowering his walls for Frodo. That very moment is THE MOMENT of their relationship. They were already bound, but that moment there is what sealed the deal. Frodo reminding Sméagol of who he is... Sméagol says his name for the first time in over 500 years...

Oooh, ladadada: ... and then Gollum speaks the name for the first time. Sssmmméagooolll.... He takes it over, and that moment Sméagol and Frodo shared is corrupted. All triggered by Frodo's betrayal.

Yeah, the truth is stranger than my own worst dreams: Frodo being sucked into Minas Morgal. Strange, horrific.

Oh, the darkness got a hold on me: The Ring takes Frodo over completely/Gollum is taken over and reaches for it.

The second chorus is from Sméagol's point of view.

I have seen what the darkness does, say goodbye to who I was: Sméagol knows what the darkness of the Ring did to him, what it turned him into, what it took from him.

I ain't never been away so long, don't look back them days are gone: been away from his home for so long, he looks back one more time, knowing he can never get back what he had, and then crawls into the cave, where he forgets.

Follow me into the endless night: Like Frodo lead him to get taken by the men, Sméagol leads Frodo to get taken by Shelob. It's a reciprocal act

I can bring your fears to life: Frodo's fear, being killed, unable to complete his mission, having the Ring stolen from him.

Show me yours, and I'll show you mine: Another of Frodo's fears -- being taken over by the Ring. Killing in the name of the Ring. That's why I showed Frodo choking Sméagol then stopping. And Sméagol's fear, the Ring being destroyed.

Meet me in the woods tonight: the same as how Frodo meant it. It's an offering, an invitation of coming together, whether it'll hurt them or not. And indeed it did.

Oooh, ladadada: Sméagol is taken over by Gollum. He can't allow the Ring to be destroyed.

Oooh, ladadada: Gollum attacks Frodo. Frodo chokes Gollum/Gollum chokes Frodo. Reciprocal, mirrored. Gollum's snarling face turns into Frodo's snarling face.

Oooh: They fight over the Ring, both their darkest selves. The last fight they'll have, the end to their relationship.

Meet me in the woods tonight, oooh: Flashbacks. Their offering, the invitation, their coming together, their bond, didn't only result in pain. Sméagol brings Frodo rabbits. They smile, they're happy together. Their was hope

Meet me in the woods tonight: And then it goes downhill. Frodo's perceived betrayal sets in motion a sequence of events that leads up to the end of their relationship. The rest of the song is "meet me in the woods tonight" repeated over and over. And I look at it as saying, "now the pain comes, it was in the offering"

Oh, meet me in the woods tonight: Sméagol's pain from the betrayal...

Oh, meet me in the woods tonight: Sméagol deciding to betray Frodo...

Oh, meet me in the woods tonight: Sméagol manipulating Frodo.

Then as the instrumentals fade out, we head back to Mordor, back to the present, where the two fall, and thus ends their relationship. Because, of course, poor Sméagollum fell. :(

[loop-hole-319]

What mythical horse centaurs I think the batfamily would be.

Bruce - Thestral / Batpony

Ties in well to witnessing his parents death. I think he will be able to control his invisibility although if you have scene death you will be able to see through it regardless.

Dick - Peryton

Specifically that one image of the one with the peacock tail. I just think it fits his flamboyant personality and is so colorful. It would also be dishonorable to give him something that couldn't fly.

Jason - Nightmare

I like to think it was a normal centaur but then something bad happened transforming him into a nightmare. I have a vivid image of him entering a building while wearing a smirk with a giant gun on his shoulder. With every step he takes embers fly from his feathering and a magma like texture spreads from his glowing hooves.

Tim - Kirin/Quilin

His appearance would be similar to the ones in My Little pony. With a horn that looks similar to an antler and a set of sharp fangs from dragon-like traits. With a dark red coat and gold scales with a gold horn and highlights. Also keep the setting itself on fire when pissed off cuz it's funny and opens up a whole bunch of scenarios for him.

Damian - Shadhavarr

Combined with constantly being mistaken for a unicorn with the fact that his horn seems to serve no other purpose then as a noise maker has put a damper on his mental health. After all, a wind instrument being stuck to your head is not beneficial to an assassin. He was supposed to have wings, he was supposed to be a Thestral. Although he did inherit his father's black coat and fluffy ears.

He does eventually find love for music in this AU mirroring his love for drawing.

Cass - Thestral / Batpony

Not much to say for her other than aesthetics and that would look badass. Although she is much more fluffy than Bruce.

Steph - Unicorn

Her highly pigmented shiny purple coat and yellow mane almost make up for the fact she can't use magic.

Babs - Hippocampus

Being a Ichthyocentaur on land would be a lot more upsetting if her tail was paralyzed because some asshole The Joker purposefully ran her over with their boat.

Duke - Descendant of Skinfaxi

Despite lacking a horn Duke has the most magic out of everyone in the herd. He can do basic light manipulation and his coat is extremely reflective.

Alfred - A White horse

The one death rode in on.

Jason likes to keep Dicks antler sheds so they can play fight with them later in the year.

Duke and Jason form a glow-in-the-dark club.

Jason likes to piss off Tim to make him flame up. Damian secretly thinks the flames are pretty.

Dick likes to make feather jewelry with his feathers.

Despite being partially paralyzed, Babs is extremely mobile in her wheelchair although she cannot swim.

Steph paints everyone's hooves she needs help with her back feet.

Despite three family members having wings, they rarely use them. Dick uses them the most by giving himself extra air time with jumps.

Despite being an extremely lanky awkward foal, Jason is a Shire. His running has been described as thunderous.

Jason once kicked a man's head off

When Bart met Tim he got extremely excited over 'horsey' and jumped on his back. Tim immediately bucked him off.

Tim kicked Kon in the nuts (thank you invulnerability) once on reflex because he smacked him on the ass. Kon later defended himself by telling him that he lived on a farm and he gave the horses butt pats all the time and it was ingrained.

Jason likes to play Rodeo with his friends. No one has stayed on for more than 4 seconds.

Once out of the assassin Colt Damien takes a deep dive into music and learns like seven instruments.