#pippin took creating problems | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

blueraineshadows · 2 years ago

Text

Brothers Part 6

Garreth Weasley 🔺️ F!MC 🔺️ Oscar Weasley

A love rivalry between two Weasley brothers. Oscar Weasley is an OC created by @eternalremorse and used with her permission

Chapter Master List

Triggers: NSFW 🔞 angst, violence, murder

Chapter Six - Not So Innocent

Huge pumpkins and autumnal decorations had begun to appear around the castle in the build-up to Samhain. MC walked the corridors with a smile, enjoying the atmosphere as she headed for the library. She did love autumn.

As she crossed Central Hall, a parchment fluttered through the air near her head, one of many floating about and being snatched at by students. It was causing quite the stir, and MC found herself curious. She caught hers and looked down at the advertisement, a colourful display to entice one into the village of Hogsmeade for festivities at the end of the month. It made her lips curve upwards.

MC tucked the leaflet into her pocket with the intention of discussing it with her friends. A day out in Hogsmeade sounded rather fun, and it might be just what Poppy needed. She had been rather quiet the last few days, and MC hadn't been able to pry out of her what the trouble was.

The library was much more subdued than Central Hall, students quiet as they read and studied. MC made her way to the usual spot, Sebastian and Garreth already at their preferred table, heads bent over a piece of parchment that Sebastian was writing on.

"What are you two scheming now?" She teased. She pulled out a chair and joined them, noting the open text books that were being ignored.

They both lifted their gazes up to her, the pair of them with matching mischievous smiles on their faces.

"Garreth's new potion idea," Sebastian said. "I think we are on to a winner with this one."

MC didn't know whether to smile or wince as she looked at them both, her face twisting into a mixture of both expressions.

"Since when do you help Garreth with his potions?"

The lads shared a look, both of them looking far too happy with themselves as MC got her books out.

"This could be mutually beneficial," Garreth said. "I get to experiment with the brew, and widen my potential."

"And if it works, then I can read all night without getting tired," Sebastian added.

"Oh, is this that energy boosting drink you mentioned?" MC asked.

Garreth nodded and turned the parchment so she could see their notes, the inky scrawl rather messy in their efforts to get things down quickly. Garreth's eyes were alight with excitement as he quickly explained how it might work. MC couldn't help but catch some of this enthusiasm.

"So, when do you start brewing?" She asked.

"That's the problem," Sebastian sighed. "We need some rare ingredients that cost too much coin to buy. We need to figure out another way to get hold of them."

MC scanned their list on the parchment, her eyes pausing on unicorn hair. "Hmm, yes, unicorn hair is quite difficult to get hold of."

"Which makes it pricey," Garreth sighed. He pushed his hand through his mop of hair. "I might have to run some errands for old Pippin, he might help me out with a discount."

MC bit her lip and looked at the two of them, thinking of the little herd of unicorns that were hidden in the Forbidden Forest, safely guarded by enchantments and checked on by the centaur community. Her and Poppy had been to visit them the other week, eager to see how they were faring after the summer break.

Poppy was fiercely protective of their location, and MC kept quiet as she mulled over the possibility of gathering some hair for this potion experiment. Perhaps she ought to speak to Poppy first before making any promises.

"I'm sure something can be figured out," she said. She pulled out the leaflet from her robe pocket and held it up.

"Have you seen this? Shall we go?"

Sebastian took the leaflet and Garreth nodded. "I'm up for that," he said. "We can all go together, if you want."

"Are we taking dates?" Sebastian asked.

Garreth's eyes met MC's, a slight pink staining his cheeks as he shrugged. "I wasn't planning to."

Sebastian rubbed his fingers thoughtfully over his mouth and he gave MC a quizzical look. "Do you think Poppy would say yes if I asked her?"

MC sighed. "How many times do I have to tell you? Of course she will. Just ask her out already."

"What about this trouble with her parents?" He asked.

MC felt her shoulders slump. Poppy's parents were in Scotland, and it wasn't to visit with their daughter. They were part of a poaching ring, and being here could only mean one thing, and that was to hunt. Poppy's grandmother had sent an owl to warn Poppy, and now Poppy was fearful for all the rare beasts in the area. MC knew that Poppy would love to scoop every single one of them up and hold them safe, but that just wasn't feasible. It wouldn't stop her from trying, though.

"Perhaps a day out would be the ideal distraction for her," MC said. "I know she would like to go with you. Just ask her."

"Hmm, maybe I will."

"If she does say no, you can always take Ominis as your date," Garreth said with a grin.

Sebastian chuckled. "Oh, he is coming regardless, even if I have to drag him there," he said. He pointed at MC. "And you can help me convince him it will be fun. Just promise to keep the yucky snogging to a minimum with Oscar."

MC blushed, her eyes meeting Garreth's again, his own gaze immediately dropping to the parchment as he fiddled with the edges. Not for the first time, MC wondered what he was thinking. Ever since he had caressed her cheek at the party, MC had been more aware of his glances, the way he blushed or hid his gaze from her. He had called her the prettiest girl in Hogwarts, and she wondered if he even remembered saying it. They had not spoken of it, and MC dared not for fear of what he might say.

Shifting in her seat, MC gave Sebastian a slight frown. "I don't know if Oscar is coming yet. I've not had chance to ask him."

"Yes, well, if he does come along, save the snogging for afterwards," Sebastian said.

"Perhaps you should focus more attention on your own snogging opportunities rather than worry about mine," MC said, folding her arms and giving him a stern look. "I've a good mind to grab Oscar and give him a big snog right in front of you."

Sebastian grimaced. "Urgh, please don't. You'll put me off my Butterbear slobbering over a Gryffindor like that. No offence, Garreth."

Garreth shrugged and tucked his potion notes into his journal. "None taken, although that's enough snogging talk for one day. I'm going to head off. I'll catch up with you later."

As Garreth gathered his things and headed out of the library with a quick wave, MC watched him go, a distracted look on her face.

"What's that look for?" Sebastian asked. He tickled the end of his quill under her chin, and she turned back to him with a small smile.

"Maybe we should help Garreth find a date for the festival," she said thoughtfully. "I think he felt a bit left out."

Sebastian glanced after Garreth, brow furrowed. "Hmm, but who? I hope he doesn't take Trixie up on her offer. I have warned him to stay clear of that one."

MC felt her stomach tighten. "What offer?"

Sebastian sighed and shook his head. "She is after Garreth, even more so now that Oscar has his mitts all over you. She's a bitch, but she is a beautiful one, and it isn't easy for a man to turn down something like that when it's being offered up on a plate."

MC felt her stomach twist further, and she felt a bit sick. The thought of Trixie's hands on Garreth bothered her as much as the thought of Oscar being with her. It was silly. She hadn't been with Oscar then, and Garreth was just a friend, and yet MC felt something hot and twisted claw at her insides.

"Does the girl have no shame?" She muttered, her frown deepening.

"From what I hear in the Quidditch changing rooms, no, she does not," Sebastian said. He eyed MC, his hand reaching for hers across the table top. He took hold of it, his thumb brushing lightly over her knuckles, and she lifted her eyes to his. His gaze was soft, concerned.

"Do me a favour, MC," he said quietly. "I know you like him, but don't let Oscar change you. Don't become like those girls that hang around outside the Quidditch block. That's not who you are. I know who you are, and I don't want to hear them talking about you the way they talk about Trixie."

MC swallowed hard, the backs of her eyes burning a little at his words. It still amazed her how he managed to just see her, to be someone who was there for her in ways that nobody else had ever been. Her own concerns about fitting in with Oscar's friends had not been something she spoke about, a worry she had kept buried, and yet Sebastian had voiced a similar thing in his own protective way. She was still his charge, no matter how much time had passed since the day he had jested about her being such a thing.

She squeezed his hand. "I'm still me, Seb," she whispered. "I won't change. I promise."

He gave her a long look before nodding, releasing her hand but keeping his fingers over hers. He lowered his voice even more, leaning as far forward as he could, his brown eyes serious, intense.

"Good. I made you a promise to stop using Unforgivables, and I don't want to have to break that promise in defence of your honour. Because I would, MC. For you, I would."

And she didn't doubt it.

....*....

As soon as a crisp, sunny day came around, the students were keen to get outside for some fresh air. Oscar practised Quidditch in most weather, always best to be able to cope with whatever nature threw at you, because a simple thing like the weather wasn't enough to put a stop to a match. However, there was something really invigorating about flying and getting a good workout under the sun.

His cheeks stung from the cold, but his muscles were pleasantly warm as he touched down onto the pitch after a fierce practise session. As he made his way towards the changing block, he spotted MC waiting for him, slightly apart from the rest of the group, but there nonetheless.

He felt his spirits lift even higher as he gave her a wave. The breeze lifted loose strands of her hair across her smiling face, those gorgeous eyes pulling him in and making him forget about everyone else as he drew closer. He didn't think he would ever get tired of looking at her.

He knew she could be shy about public displays of affection, and he restrained himself, resisting the urge to wrap her up in his arms. So, it was a pleasant surprise when she stepped forward and slid her arms about his waist, pressing her head against him in a hug of greeting. It was soft, a tentative squeeze, but he instantly returned it, swallowing her up and holding her tight, savouring the softness of her and the delicate floral scent that wafted from her.

"This is the kind of greeting a man could get used to," he murmured into her hair. "You feel amazing."

She looked up at him, cheeks tinged with pink and her smile shy. "I missed you."

It had been a busy few days with school and Quidditch. MC had spent time with her Slytherin friends and took part in Crossed Wands, and their alone time had been sacrificed as a result. He had missed her too, more than he had expected to, and it felt good to know she had felt the same.

He led her further away from the others and tugged free his gloves so he could feel her skin when he touched her face. "I missed you too. Will you wait while I change? We can spend some time together."

She nodded, her smile almost teasing as she went up onto tiptoe and pressed a soft kiss to his mouth. "Don't take too long."

A surge of warmth swept through him, the ache for her sweet and hot at the touch of her lips. He promised to be swift and hurried off to take the fastest shower of his life, pulling on his clothes and quickly raking his fingers through his hair as he dashed for the door.

"Looks like Weasley is on a promise," Isaac laughed. The lads all began whooping and whistling as Oscar grinned and flicked his middle finger up at them, hurrying out into the chilly October air to meet with MC.

....*....

The urge to see Oscar had plagued MC's thoughts all morning throughout her classes. She needed to see his face and hear his voice, put her hands on him as something solid and real to ease the guilt that hung over her shoulders.

She had woken up flustered and hot, her dreams a hazy mix of hands and lips against her skin. However, the owner of these hands had not been Oscar. Shame had flooded her, had made her pull the blankets up over her head as though anyone who looked at her would know what her mind had conjured in the depths of sleep.

Last night, she had dreamed of Garreth. Garreth's hands touching skin usually hidden under her clothes, his lips teasing where they had no right to be, and her body responded with waves of heat so strong, a throbbing tingle still ached between her thighs when she awoke.

Trying to forget had been difficult, especially when she'd had to face the object of her dream in potions after lunch. Every smile he gave her made her cheeks burn, and she hurried from the class once it was done, her guilt washing over her as she decided to go and find Oscar. Hoping that by seeing him, it would wash away the images that kept sneaking into her thoughts.

Not even Poppy's worries had been able to distract MC today, and they were big worries indeed. Her fellow Hufflepuff was on edge over the worry about her parents being close by. MC had tried to reassure her but understood that this was not an easy situation.

As Oscar had approached her across the Quidditch pitch, her hands had reached for him, and she had pressed herself against his warmth, trying to erase the lingering effects of her dream. Enveloped in his scent, the strength of his arms holding her tight, MC had pushed against her guilt. She was with Oscar, she had chosen him. He was real, and those images of Garreth weren't. They were just dreams.

Making the most of the finer weather, they walked hand in hand to the lake, Oscar's hair damp and ruffled from his shower. The sun was beginning to sink low in the sky, beautiful streaks of orange and pink colouring the clouds behind the mountains, the temperature dropping as the shadows lengthened. MC moved closer towards Oscar, and he looked down at her, a smile teasing his lips.

"Are you cold?" He asked. He let go of her hand and wrapped his arm about her, holding her against him. "I must say, I like this cuddly side of you."

MC snuggled in, her hand taking hold of his robe at his chest as they walked. "I'm just making the most of this time before we have to go back for dinner."

"Is that so?" He said, a grin spreading across his face as he glanced ahead and behind to see if anyone was watching. "Come on."

MC let him lead her into the trees, the shadows here darker and concealing as he backed her up against a trunk, lips seeking hers for a kiss. MC responded immediately, her hands sliding up to his neck, lips parting eagerly. Excitement bloomed in her chest, the warmth of his mouth welcome against the chill in the air.

What better way to wipe away the hazy images of dreams than to replace them with real life memories?

The slide of his tongue against hers stoked the flickers of fire within. The ache she had suppressed upon waking this morning was nudged into life, and she pressed herself against him, moaning softly into his mouth.

He broke the kiss, his hands on her face, his blue eyes searching hers. "Wow. I should make you miss me more often," he teased.

"No, don't do that," she said, shaking her head. She tugged him even closer. "Don't stop."

Their mouths met again, harder, the kiss deepening until both of them were trying to catch their breaths. Oscar's hands moved to her waist, sliding over her hips and back up, his knee sliding between her thighs as he pressed his pelvis against hers.

MC felt the ache between her thighs sharpen, her body calling out to his with a hunger that stole her breath. Her hands shook with it, this bold desire that swirled against her innocent nerves. She had no idea what to do with it, only that it felt good. It was real.

As Oscar's mouth moved to her neck, she slid her fingers into his damp hair, the strands cold but so soft. The heat of his kiss seared her skin, his hand tugging free the Gryffindor scarf she wore for him to expose more of her flesh. She let him, abandoning her shyness under the cover of the trees.

Then, he gripped her hips, holding her against him, his pelvis moving against her in a grind that left her gasping. She could feel it, the hardness of him, his desire for her, raw and very real. It rested against her hip, exotic and tempting. A thrill shot through her, fear and excitement, a curiosity that had her own hips rolling to meet his. A low moan left his mouth, his breath hot and fast at her throat.

"Gods, you drive me crazy." His voice was strained and breathless, low and thick with his need.

MC felt every thump of her heartbeat as his fingers dug into her backside, holding her tight against him, the rock of their hips scandalous. Every harsh breath, every grind of his hips, it sent her pulse to new levels, a haze descending over conscious thought as she lost herself in him.

She tugged at his hair, guiding his face up to hers so that she could kiss him again, mouths tangling in a messy kiss. The shadows had deepened, and her boldness increased, her lips moving to explore his cheeks, his nose, she tasted along his jaw, and finally, his neck. The scent of his soap filled her, combined with his own male scent as she licked, sucked and kissed.

She had never heard a man make such noises before. It surprised her how much it fanned the flames of her own lust, and she sucked at his skin even harder. She wanted to hear him make those sounds again as he continued to grind his arousal against her.

"Fuck, MC... " He was panting, gently trying to hold her back. "We need to stop."

"Why?" She whispered.

He held her face, halting his movements but still pressing her into the tree, his forehead leaning against hers. Their quickened breaths mingled, steaming in the rapidly cooling night air.

"Believe me, I don't want to," he said. "But we have to, before we go too far. I don't want to do this with you out here against a tree, not like this."

Slowly, realisation began to settle, the haze clearing a little as the quiet sounds of night filled her ears. The soft rustle of the turning leaves, the nearby wash of the lake, the odd scurry of an animal in the undergrowth. She met his gaze and could see the heat in his eyes despite the now near dark, and she nodded.

"You're right," she said, softly, her cheeks warm but in a pleasant way. She smiled, eyes curious. "Where would you like to do this kind of thing?"

His eyes widened. "I didn't think you were ready?"

"Well, no, not completely. Not for... you know," she said. She dipped her gaze, an awkward chuckle escaping her. "But, I can't deny how you make me feel. What just happened... it felt... good."

He smiled, his thumbs caressing her cheeks, his eyes intense on hers. "Really? Does that mean... what are you saying?"

She took a steadying breath. "I'm saying that I wouldn't mind spending more time alone with you. Like this."

Just saying the words, releasing them and the implications she had intended, made her heart pound harder in anticipation. Perhaps her dream had been telling her that she was ready. It was just confused who was supposed to be doing it.

At least, she thought so. What else could it have meant?

"If that's what you want, then I would love to spend time with you like this," Oscar said. He pressed a softer kiss to her mouth and then grinned. "Although, somewhere much more comfortable and warm."

She giggled, nodding, tucking her hands inside his robe to warm them. She pressed her palm against his chest and felt the thump of his own rapid heartbeat. His body wanted her. It thrummed with the same urgency that hers had climbed to.

"We can take it slow," he said quietly. Her eyes met his again, his gorgeous blue eyes. "We will only do what you feel comfortable with. But, believe me when I say, I want you. The need to touch you drives me crazy."

Slowly, her heart in her mouth, she took his hand that held her face and guided it downwards until it was near her breast. She trembled a little as she pressed his palm against her softness. She heard his soft intake of breath, and his eyes that had followed the movement now flew back to hers.

"MC... " He whispered her name, cautious, his hand pressed lightly against her robe.

"It's okay." She put her hand over his, moulding him over her curves, and he closed his eyes, his thumb caressing gently. Oscar's touch was warm, even through the layers of her clothes, and her skin tingled beneath, aching to feel his skin against hers. The intimacy did not scare her, especially since it had been her to place his hand there.

His kiss was softer, less demanding, but it still had the power to weaken her knees as it deepened once again. His hand continued to caress her over her clothes, and she found herself longing for the time when they could be alone and in the warm.

....*....

A chill wind whipped at Garreth's cloak as he walked the path back from Hogsmeade, hands in his pockets and his teeth worrying at his lower lip. He had spent his Saturday morning running errands for Pippin, but still no unicorn hair. The little that the potion shop had was far too valuable to give away at a discount, and so Garreth was left feeling rather frustrated.

That wasn't the only thing that bothered him. For the last few days, MC had been acting strange around him, avoiding his eyes and her cheeks turning pink if he smiled at her. She hadn't come to their usual study session yesterday, leaving him alone with Sebastian and Ominis, which was fine. He just missed her being there.

A sneaking suspicion tugged at him. He was now sure he had made an idiot of himself at the party in his common room. He wished he could remember what he had said to her, but his memory was still hazy over it, and he kicked himself for getting so drunk.

It didn't help that Oscar had been strutting around with the biggest grin on his face, his eyes following MC whenever they were in the same room. Garreth tried not to watch, but he had noticed that whenever they snuck in a kiss, Oscar's hands were now lower on her hips, their touches more intimate than before, and his guts twisted at the thought of what they did in private. There had even been what looked suspiciously like a hickey on Oscar's neck the other day.

Was she going to start pulling away from him after all? It was not a comforting thought in the slightest.

The soft swish of a broom sounded above him, and he looked up, surprised to see MC herself circling back around before swooping to land on the path in front of him.

"There you are!" She called brightly. She swung off her broom and adjusted her robes. "I've been looking for you. Leander said you might be walking back along here."

Garreth couldn't help but smile at the sight of her, hair wind swept and cheeks pink. She wore a green robe and dark brown trousers, Oscar's scarf around her neck, and high boots.

"What can I do for you?" He asked.

Her smile was bright and it made his heart lift. Perhaps she wasn't mad at him after all.

"Actually, it's what I can do for you," she said. She glanced up and down the path. "I'd rather not discuss it here, though. Fancy hopping on my broom with me?"

He eyed her broom floating beside her, his face warming at the thought of being that close to her. "Where are we going?"

She grinned and tapped the side of her nose. "It's a secret."

He returned her grin. "I'm ready when you are."

Garreth had partnered on a broom before, many times, mostly with his siblings and sometimes with Leander when they had first started to learn. This was different. Very different.

He sat behind MC, his arms about her waist, his thighs pressed around her hips. He tried not to lean against her too much, but as soon as she kicked off, the motion of the broom made his chest press against her back.

She was so soft and warm, and she smelled so lovely, the whole package making him fill with longing, his thoughts distracted as they flew over the clustered tree tops of the Forbidden Forest. It was like a carpet of gold and crimson below them, the leaves glorious in their autumn colours, delicate wafts of mist trailing through the shadows beneath the canopy.

The cold breeze tugged at their hair, strands escaping MC's braid tickling his face as he leaned to look over her shoulder. His fingers were splayed at her stomach, delicately gripping the fabric of her clothes.

"Where are we going?" He asked again into her ear.

She tilted her head slightly to call back to him. "It's a surprise!"

Warm flutters began in his stomach, and if he closed his eyes, perhaps he could pretend, just for a moment, that holding her like this could last forever. But all too soon, MC was slowing down, swooping gracefully towards an outcrop of rock nestled deep in the forest.

They landed, Garreth reluctant to let her go as they climbed off. "You're good at flying, MC."

She smiled, flicking her wand to put away the broom. "I have your brother to thank for that. He has been giving me tips."

Garreth nodded, some of the joy slipping from the moment at the mention of Oscar, a reminder that she sat like that with him on a broom too. He glanced around, the eerie silence of the forest only broken by the cold breeze.

"What brings us out here?" He asked. He moved to the edge of the rock to look at the murky dark below, signs of a steep path leading to the forest floor.

He heard her sigh, and he turned. She gave him a grave look. "There have been some reports of poachers in the area, and Poppy is concerned. I've come out here to check on a particular beast for her, and I wanted to bring you along so that you might be able to gather some ingredients for your energy potion idea."

"Which ingredients?" He asked, hope springing up inside him.

She stepped closer, her smile just gorgeous in the soft sunlight. "How would you like to meet some unicorns?"

He couldn't help it, he exclaimed in delight and threw his arms around her. She laughed and hugged him back. "Thank you!" He said.

"Don't thank me yet," she said. "We need to check all is well with them first, and hope that they are willing to shed some hair."

The trail was steep and littered with loose stones, and Garreth held on to MC as they carefully picked their way down to the forest floor, slipping and sliding as they went.

"How come you didn't just come here with Sebastian?" Garreth asked. "Adventuring is what you two do, isn't it?"

"It's your potion though," she said. "And anyway, we managed perfectly well without Sebastian the last time we were in the forest together. We just need to stick together, and keep a look out."

They wandered through the gloom for a while, the path sticky with mud in places, before they came to an area thick with undergrowth. MC slowed and urged him to duck down, taking his arm as they pressed through the foliage.

She held her finger to her lips and pulled him in close, the floral scent of her perfume filling his nose as she got him to peer through a gap in the bushes they were crouched in.

There in the clearing were four unicorns, their coats glossy and shimmering in the low light. Garreth stared, a sigh leaving his lips, his eyes wide with awe as he took in the soft silk of their manes and the regal shine of the their horns.

"Wow," he whispered.

"Beautiful, aren't they," MC whispered near his ear. He turned to her, surprised to see how close she was. Their eyes met, and she smiled, her eyes glittering in the darkness. "Would you like to get closer?"

His cheeks flamed, eyes widening as he stared, his gaze dropped to her mouth, and he swallowed hard. Was she serious? What about Oscar?

"What?" He squeaked.

"The unicorns," she said. "Would you like to get a closer look?"

He blinked, realisation crashing into him. He put his hand to his forehead and winced. "Oh, right. Of course," he mumbled. "Yes, I would love to."

"Come on," she said, grabbing his hand and slowly leading him out into the clearing. "Move slowly and quietly. Follow my lead. They know me."

Garreth was almost holding his breath as they stepped carefully into the clearing. MC made soft, soothing sounds as they approached a rather lovely white unicorn, her hand held out towards it with some kind of treat in her palm. The unicorn stilled, eyeing them, nose delicately sniffling.

MC paused and spoke softly, and Garreth found himself watching her rather than the magnificent beast they were trying to coax. How did she make everything look so special? She looked so lovely, so delicate and beautiful, and yet her bravery and determination shone in her eyes. How he wished she had been sorted into Gryffindor so that he could spend even more time in her presence, he thought she would make a great addition to his house.

The unicorn did indeed seem to know her, stepping up to nuzzle MC's hand and take the treat. MC smiled, softly praising the unicorn before giving it an affectionate scratch along its nose.

"I want you to meet a friend of mine, Daisy," MC said softly. "He really wants to meet you."

MC urged Garreth closer, and he swallowed hard as she lifted his hand up and placed it next to hers against the unicorns nose. The unicorn gently nudged against them both, and Garreth chuckled quietly.

Slowly, he began to stroke the smooth fur, his nerves dissipating as he gazed into the eye of the beast. "This is amazing," he whispered. He turned to smile at MC. "Thank you."

"You're welcome," she said warmly. She placed the treats in his other hand. "Here, a little distraction while I harvest for you."

Garreth took the treats, Daisy immediately snuffling to see what he had, and MC took a brush from her pocket and began to stroke it through her silky mane. Soft strands of hair gathered in the bristles, and Garreth felt his chest contract with something that was almost painful as he watched.

In that moment, he thought he might very well love MC. The thought spiralled, filling his chest and making flutters erupt in his belly.

She was here to make sure these beautiful beasts were safe from poachers, and yet she had thought to bring him along, took the time to remember that he wanted the hair for his silly side project. Nothing was ever too much for her when it came to thinking of others.

"MC... " He began. He had no idea what words were going to spill from his lips, probably something foolish that would have ruined this moment, but it seemed the moment was doomed anyway.

The flash of a spell shot through the clearing, startling the unicorns and crackling as it scorched the ground near MC's feet. She cried out and stumbled back, just catching herself before she fell to the dirt of the forest floor. Garreth saw poachers appearing from the undergrowth, wooden masks covering the top half of their faces.

MC had her wand out already and he fumbled for his, the unicorn treats spilling to the ground as the beasts let out a whinny of panic and ran from the clearing.

"You!" A tall poacher in a leather coat stalked towards MC. "I should have known we'd come across you again."

MC's face was as hard as stone as she beckoned Garreth to move closer. "Get behind me," she muttered.

He did so, wand out, but no idea how to deal with the number of poachers moving to circle them without getting hurt in the process. "What do we do?" He asked.

"Stay close to me," she murmured quietly. "Get ready to duck, hold my robe, and whatever you do, don't let go."

"Um, okay?" He gulped.

"I mean it, Garreth. No matter what happens, stay close to me."

Her voice didn't even shake. Not once.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, he wished Sebastian had been the one to come with her because he didn't have much faith in himself to protect her if this went bad. He wanted to. His whole body was tingling with the desire to wrap her up and whisk her to safety.

"I can Apparate," he said. "My father taught me."

She shook her head. "If we leave, they will take the unicorns. We have to stop them."

His eyes bulged. "We do? How?"

"Just trust me," she said.

The poachers began to advance, and their wands trained on him and MC. He felt the first beads of sweat begin to gather on the nape of his neck, but he wasn't even hot. In fact, he was cold. He grabbed the back of MC's robes as she had told him, his fingers shaking as he stared around the clearing.

"Expelliarmus!"

As the poacher cast towards MC, he felt her tense up, her arm flourishing as a huge dome appeared over the top of them. The disarming spell rebounded, along with several other spells that erupted from the other poachers only to bounce off the protection MC had thrown up.

"Fuck," he whined. He gripped her robes harder, hating that he wasn't better at this kind of thing. Oscar had always been better at duelling. Garreth was handier with his fists, or even better, give him a cauldron and some herbs and he could whip up something for you. But this?

"Hold on!" MC cried out.

Garreth stared, mouth agape as she appeared to reach for the sky with her wand. A blast of blue and white shot upwards and spread like lightning through the canopy of the trees. The poachers all flinched back, shouting at each other.

"I told you this bitch was dangerous," one of them spat.

MC was shaking with the effort of her spell, the blue and white light now crackling downwards to surround her, her body appearing as though lit with cold fire. Garreth thought about letting her go, the sparks beginning to surround him too, but she had told him to hang on no matter what.

She screamed, a hoarse cry that burst from her mouth, and her magic bloomed outwards in a rolling wave, the lightning bolts hitting the poachers and making them jerk in some kind of horrifying dance.

MC shook, her wand stretched out towards the ring leader as she cast a huge blast of blue and white towards them. The ring leader exploded in a blinding flash of light, sparks flickering outwards before dying off in the gloom. The rest of the poachers were slowly growing still, their bodies crumbling to the dirt in heaps around them as the last sizzle of her huge spell dissipated.

Silence descended over the clearing, the unicorns long gone, MC stood there, panting and staring at the spot where the ring leader had once stood. The tip of her wand was still glowing blue, and when she slowly turned to face him, he was shocked to see flickers of that blue in the depths of her eyes.

He couldn't move. He was frozen to the spot, his fingers in some kind of death grip on the back of her robe. He was so close to her that he could smell the smoke and heat of her magic. He realised he was scared. Scared of her. She had been terrifying in her power and yet so beautiful.

The magic faded from her eyes, and they began to shine with tears. She shook her head, her arms lowering to hang at her sides.

"Please, don't look at me like that," she said softly. She sounded sad, broken even.

"Like what?" His own voice was raspy, cracked.

"Like you are scared of me, like... like you don't even know me."

Garreth tried to swallow and almost choked on his own saliva, or lack of it, as his eyes swept around the clearing. Bodies. Everywhere. At her hand. The ring leader obliterated to mere dust.

"Are they all...?" He had to be sure.

"Yes," she said, her voice small. "They are dead."

He stared at her. No, he didnt know her. Not this side of her at least. He was still clinging to her robe but he couldn't let go. He tried to say something, but only a whimper came out.

"Garreth," she pleaded. Her hand reached for him and he flinched.

He couldn't stand the flare of pain on her face at his reaction, he wanted to take it back, but all he could do was stand there staring at her.

The tears welled up even more in her eyes, and one escaped, sliding over her cheek. She looked down, swiping it away. "This is why I never tell anyone what happened last year, why I keep my mouth shut and hide my magic away," she said. "I know what it does, what I am capable of, but sometimes I have to use it. We would both be dead now if I hadn't."

"You... " He gulped, his eyes trying not to look at the dead. "You've killed before."

She sighed, shoulders slumped, and face resigned as she nodded. Her gaze met his, her eyes pained but honest. "Many times," she said.

He remembered the foraging trip, how brave he had thought she was for fighting against dark wizards after their chat about it. She didn't look very brave right now, pale and tear streaked, her eyes filled with pain. She looked small, despite the terrifying power she had just unleashed with seemingly little effort.

"Sebastian... does he...?" He asked. He felt sick, his stomach turning over at the thought of them doing this kind of thing together.

Her face hardened. "He knows, yes. He has seen what you just witnessed."

Garreth nodded, although that was not what he had meant. He wondered if Sebastian was capable of killing as well, and something told him that he absolutely was. No wonder they were so damn close. They had horrific secrets to harbour.

Just moments ago, he had thought her suitable to be sorted into Gryffindor, but now he wondered if maybe Slytherin would have been more apt.

"I... I need a moment," Garreth said. He took a step, his legs shaky, and came to a halt when his hand pulled at her robes. He looked down and slowly forced his hand to let go.

MC reached out and grabbed his wrist, her eyes still pained as they stared at each other.

"Don't go too far, there might be more of them," she warned.

His lips trembled. "Will you kill them too?"

She flinched and let him go. "Garreth, please."

"What? Forget about it? Is that what you want me to do?" He asked, his voice strained. "You just slaughtered a whole group of poachers in one hit. You. The girl who sits next to me in potions with the cute smile and a big heart. You're... you're a killer, MC! I just... I can't..."

Horrified tears stung his eyes, and he had to turn away. His feet began to move, and once he had started, he couldn't stop. He began to run. His feet hit the dirt path as he ran through the forest with no idea where he was going.

To be continued...

#hogwarts legacy fanfic #garreth weasley x mc #garreth weasley #oscar weasley #oscar weasley x mc #blueraineshadows

41 notes · View notes

elodieunderglass · 7 months ago

Text

It’s a good question but not set up to be the case in the canon material! Obviously we are having fun, but it’s backed (at least in my own contributions) by the genuinely interesting public health problems and ecological implications of hobbits.

A few reasons, behind the cut because I’m conscious of having contributed TOO MANY WORDS across various iterations of this post already:

1. Tolkien provided a lot of extensive hobbit family trees, often with birth and death dates. These indicate large families produced by - this is important! - the same mother. Conclusions: mothers weren’t frequently dying in childbirth, and early deaths aren’t often recorded on the family trees. (Possible explanations you could invent for this could include things like “children only being recorded on family trees if they reach a certain age/milestone.” But then you’d be doing the same thing as making them all poly - adding your own imagination!)

One of the longest family lines is the lineage of the Old Took, who sired twelve children and was a shared ancestor of Bilbo, Frodo, Merry and Pippin. In addition to having “three remarkable daughters” including the adventurous Belladonna Took, some of his kids met such unusual fates that they were included parenthetically next to their birth/death dates. One of this generation Took siblings actually went to sea once (but came back and lived to be like 100), one never returned from an adventure, one had no children at all (!!!) and one, Hildigard, “died young.” Hildigard’s birth/death dates aren’t given, but she was clearly old enough to have been named. Dying young was clearly significant; perhaps on the same level of notability as dying childless or dying on an adventure. However, the Old Took was famous and influential, so it’s reasonable that there be more interest in his children’s fates than usual, and that Hildigard’s early death is recorded for those reasons, while perhaps working-class hobbits would have just lost children without recording them.

There is only one “working class” hobbit family tree, and that’s Sam’s.

And while it doesn’t have death dates, we do see that they all started having kids in early adulthood, around the age of 40. Sam’s parents had 6 kids over an 18-year span (!). Of those, 4 achieved adulthood as indicated by marriage or career updates. Again, there might have been dead ones left off the family tree/dying unnamed, if we use that theory I came up with. or this might genuinely be all the kids Hamfast and Bell had, and Daisy and May might have died. But we’re still seeing a general pattern of couples producing more than 2 living kids.

2. The statement in canon is that hobbits have notably “large families”, implying both lots of (living) siblings to be observed, but also something especially worthy of comment. The historical 30%-or-whatever mortality rate could certainly reduce numbers of babies like anything! but there would still have to be a LOT of siblings and cousins and big kids knocking around to create the apparently-accepted canon cultural truth of “hobbits have large families.” Then consider if they were living in a setting where it was normal for all families of all races to be affected by the same problems; they would have, say, five children, of whom two would survive early childhood. If that was expected and natural, those other people still have to turn around and point to hobbits, saying “THOSE little buggers have REALLY big families.”

Fold into that the fact that hobbits are (for their own reasons) living in extremely functional and prosperous 1700s-1800s England, with plenty of food and tea and biscuits, and a functioning postal service - while everyone else is living in various times of antiquity, and constantly getting mown down by raiders. and it seems like it should be backwards; humans should be having huge families with a few survivors, while hobbits should only be having a few kids. What the HELL are they doing over there -

3. We do need something to actually kill off the kids. We do need some cause or factor to do it. The absolute best thing is disease, especially infectious diseases! Especially since we’ve shown that we aren’t seeing family-tree indications of bearers and children dying together in childbirth, which was a formerly popular way to go - let’s go for the next best thing of preventable infectious diseases! And the tricky thing about disease is that the patterns here would have to be continually carrying off medium-sized children and young adults. This would crop the population like a mown lawn, constantly picking off people before they reproduced, while allowing the overall impression of “big families.” But this would have to be an infectious disease that somehow isn’t captured in family trees. And doesn’t stop mothers from bearing kids regularly. And doesn’t follow cycles of epidemic or pandemic (all the families all losing cousins at once in the same year etc.) so their most impactful diseases would have to be things like consumption (tuberculosis) where plenty of people can live as carriers, everyone has different levels of resistance, and they succumb to the disease at different times. I am quite happy for the Shire to have a lot of tuberculosis knocking around. Crammed full of TB. It doesn’t ever make a huge dent on the population, but it definitely hits constantly.

4. We could expect that non-infectious diseases - cancer, heart disease, stroke, diabetes, etc - should be constantly and continuously wiping out a decent number of adults - although those normally don’t interfere with reproduction and don’t solve our problem. But hobbit life histories as recorded in those stupid family trees are VERY annoying. They’re so annoying with it that in a 2022 paper intended to teach evolutionary biology to kids, authors analysing hobbits had to conclude that hobbits were probably just resistant to disease and cancer. Those stupid birth/reproduction/death dates indicate a life history slower and more resilient than humans. There probably is a decent amount of this happening anyway, but to the adults, not so much the kids. The family trees definitely and continuously imply an absurdly resilient race that really should have a huge population.

5. Kids should definitely be dying by accident a lot - drowning, falling down stairs (admittedly their architecture has few stairs) and so on. However, the culture seems to suggest that it would have to be quite a subtle continuous attrition of children. Disasters, accidents, attacks and famines are all so rare in the Shire that people literally still talk about interesting deaths a generation later. Frodo’s parents were considered completely unhinged for dying of drowning. The Fell Winter, in 2911/1311, was legendary for being difficult - in the Unfinished Tales Gandalf says:

“They (the shire-folk) were very hard put to it then: one of the worst pinches they have been in, dying of cold, and starving in the dreadful dearth that followed.”

The Fell Winter caused a drop in population, and it’s possible that they hadn’t recovered from it by the time of the books; but everyone had a lot of kids since then, and it’s still a huge legendary outlier and the worst thing that every happened to their species.

Notably there weren’t many deaths in 1311 recorded in the family trees, which is obviously due to Tolkien not matching stuff up (this whole situation is about him not matching stuff up, and us filling in the gaps). But the point I wanted to make here is that disasters are rare to hobbits.

6. A possible theory is that every hobbit even tangentially related to the Fellowship hobbits has possessed a disproportionate share of luck and fecundity, so their family trees are absurd, and everyone else is just DEAD.

7. To be fair we do see a LITTLE political impact that could be attributed to having more young people than old ones. In The Hobbit, the middle-aged Bilbo is extremely conservative and concerned with reputation and respectability; the Shire is openly prejudiced against other races. But by LotR we meet a younger generation of hobbits who are very different. Some of this is possibly due to Bilbo having changed the culture a little bit (and that’s Gandalf’s own hope and meta-explanation*) but some of it could be because of the population effect I mentioned way back - constant, ever-growing new generations being (theoretically) ever-harder to control through cultural expectations, and therefore being ever more progressive and flexible.

For this we can see Fatty Bolger - a friend of the Fellowship hobbits, who is presented as the least brave and progressive of them all, therefore elected the one staying home as a decoy while the rest of them trot off happily on a high-risk quest. Fatty casually achieves some impressive feats without worrying at all about respectability. He agrees to be a living decoy for the Nazgûl, escapes them on foot and raises the alarm, and later is a rebel leader in the occupied Shire. The Bolgers are in a reasonable approximation of the same social class as the Baggins family, and Fatty did this while being younger than Bilbo, but Fatty is seemingly willing to go into ride-or-die mode. Bilbo’s constant personal worries and fears about “hobbits don’t do that, hobbits do this” and “is this respectable” don’t seem to form part of the Fellowship hobbits’ mental landscape, and even the most cowardly of the young generation is shown being active, brave, and taking initiative. By the time of Fellowship, a working-class hobbit openly declares his desire to observe other races (Sam’s fascination with elves), young hobbits apparently normalise far-ranging camping trips all the time, Gandalf is a frequent Disturber of the Peace, dwarves come from all over to help out with a birthday party, and Frodo’s four best friends plan a journey outside the Shire in a spirit of helpful mischief. Culturally, they’re more open and responsive than Bilbo portrayed them.

So it’s possible that the Shire is in a constant state of ongoing exponential growth and development and progress, and is just so obscure that nobody has noticed that yet. And THAT could be why they’re reasonably technologically advanced and so on. Which slightly changes the flavour - but once again requires the reader’s input and imagination and research and three different sources to bring to light. So we might as well just have whatever fun we like, right? The ultimate answer is that Tolkien didn’t think about it! and meanwhile he made so many statements of such confidence and such implications that they created huge numbers of attractive fanfic gaps, in which fans can nest, like cliff swallows.

At any rate, it’s all provocation and good fun. You might as well announce that hobbit family trees are a mishmash of kinship types that conceal a truly goofy amount of polyamorous activity, as try to work out why kids aren’t dying more, when they really should.

* in the Unfinished Tales, Gandalf tells Pippin that he chose a hobbit for Thorin’s company partly because he foresaw an apocalyptic world war coming and wanted hobbits to survive it: he picked Bilbo to be a social catalyst to change their culture and increase their likelihood of surviving it. the Unfinished Tales aren’t 100% canon, but it does seem to have worked.

Every time Sean Astin makes a statement on whether or not Sam and Frodo were indeed gay for each other in lord of the rings he’s always like “well we have to acknowledge that attitudes around sexuality have changed dramatically over the past several decades and since authorial intent is only up to speculation, the story is open to multiple readings, some of which might have different significances for different groups of people also they kiss on the lips because I said so”

#no YOU can write about this all day #…. no YOU can write a 125k halfling silmarillion #I’m going to tag this #weasel heart in defiance #for my own reference. no reasons.

86K notes · View notes

celeste-clearwater-06 · 4 years ago

Text

Holidays with Thorin's Co. // The Fellowship (Headcanons)

Happy Thanksgiving everyone!! This post is to show how grateful I am for my now 200 followers!! <3

It's insane to think how far I've come in less than a year!!

This list of headcanons was also made in hopes to comfort those that don't have the Holidays to spend with friends or family, because I promise there are :( The Company (slightly featuring the fellowship) is proud and more than delighted to be your family this year <3

(I made these as long and as gender neutral as I could, just so you all can savor the holidays for as long as possible 😊)

Happy Holidays My Lovelies! 💜💜

⚜ Happy Holidays ⚜

Your Holidays are very different and foreign to theirs, so it's up to you to introduce it to them 💜

And as Dwarves (and a hobbit) you know they have no problem throwing a great party full of food

It was decided (by Gandalf no less) to hold it in Bag End, since that where your first-ever meeting was, to begin with

And everyone was more than eager to listen to ideas and instructions to make this new holiday just perfect 🥰

Bag End smells of cinnamon and ale, wine and vanilla, and just a hint of the smoke floating from the fireplace

Bilbo, of course, you entrusted with the significant task of preparing most of the meals 🥰

with the helping hands of Ori, Bombur, and a low and behold, incredibly confused Thorin, trying his absolute hardest to be of his loves assistance 💜

*Thorin confusedly smacking the dough on its plate*

Bilbo - "oHnonoNO, Thorin, dear, that's not how you knead it! 😅"

Dori freaking the HELL out about the fancy napkins, and constantly chiding his younger brother for his blasted thievery

"Nori! Bless the Valar, get your filthy hands off of that cutlery!"

Dwarves scuttling in and out of the pantry to move food into the dining hall (and grab a few pre-meal snacks 😉)

Gandalf is wondering about Bag End, puffing his pipe and observing the merry gathering with a gentle smile

Any unlit candle that he sees, he lights with his fingers to pass the time 🕯️

And in the living room, Bofur is sitting near the hearth of Bag End's fireplace, and telling great tales of The Reclamation of Erebor to a teeny-tiny Frodo Baggins and Samwise Gamgee, eyes aglow with wonder and sitting cross-legged as they stare in wonder at his exaggerated movements and gestures 🥰

The two young halflings couldn't be more ecstatic about these great adventures, and the way their "Great Uncle Bofur" puffs on his pipe and whispers dramatically with the descriptions of Smaug the terrible

Just down the hall, Gloin and Fìli jest about his younger brothers unabashed staring at Tauriel, as she gently warms up to some of the other kind-hearted company gathered in the Hobbit Hole 🥴

Little Gimli stomping around with his wooden spear and being chased by a very energetic young Merry and Pippin

In the sitting room where Bofur continues his story, you've claimed a space with Dìs in the corner, both decorating a Fir tree that Bifur had dragged down from the mountains himself, with some makeshift ornaments contributed by the group 😊

They include...

A little wooden bear carved graciously by Bofur

Some painted leaves, crafted and garnished by Bilbo

A fine garland of precious jewels that Thorin was happy to contribute from his sacred treasure room 🥰

Some glorious stone trinkets shipped from the great city of Dale

A raven, emerald and gold, that took Dwalin months to create

A chess piece Nori had managed to snatch from Beorn's Barn years ago

Flower crowns, from Tauriel, a token of her welcoming to the family 🥺

A tiny little dagger that Fìli smithed just for the tree

And on the top, a star that Elrond gifted you with, a crystalline, glass shape that glinted acutely from the glow of a nearby fireplace

Dìs had practically taken you in as family since your first introductions, and she was more than happy to help with your tree

It was a sight to be marveled at, to say the least, earning gasps of astonishment as races all alike passes through the shared space

Pats on the back and compliments from all around the house

Balin assisting you with some of the trim, because he IS #2 GRANDPA (along with Gandalf ofc 😌)

Gandalf scolding Merry and Pippin for bumping into him as he tries to shuffle past him through a doorway

"Those two... They'll be trouble someday, im sure of it... 🙄"

After having previously explained the purpose of mistletoe, Kìli feels the need to drag Tauriel under every one that hangs in a round doorway, that sappy little dwarf 🥰

Snow in the Shire is exceptionally rare

So it was safe to say that shouts of excitement were heard from the small hobbits and little Gimli as they watched flakes flutter down from the sky

They all begged to go outside

Except for little Samwise, he asked very politely 😌

So, the dwarves and Bilbo agreed, layering up some of their massive, warm clothing so that the children were all stomping about with fluffy woolen layers

*Frodo bumping into the door, because Bofur's giant hat entirely covers his tiny head 🥰*

It's not much snow, but enough to stick to the ground and have the little ones squealing in excitement for a while

"Come on Auntie/Uncle Y/N!!"

Pippin and Merry trying to drag you out into the snow with them

You happily oblige of course, you wouldn't want to miss the hobbits first snow ☺

Kìli, Fìli, and Ori, join the four of you outside, already accustomed to the chilly weather (since they live in the mountains, this weather was hardly cold to them 💜)

And of course, what better way to teach the young ones about the wonders of snow than Kìli chucking a poor excuse of a snowball at your face

He's started a war that he won't finish

You are a GOD at throwing snowballs, Little known fact

And once you have all of the children fighting for your vengeance, there's no winning for the poor dwarrow

Small Gimli - "We'll avenge you, Lady//Sir Y/N!! Attack the filthy Orc! 😠"

Kìli - "😰"

Immediately, Kìli is pelted with hundreds of snowballs, and His elder brother reeling in the snow with Ori as he helplessly begs for assistance 😂

After a while, the halflings start to get a bit cold, and supper is ready, you all decide to head inside

Dinner was... excitable to say the least 😅

Bilbo having flashbacks of their first unexpected meeting in this very place...

*shudders*

Food is passed around, loud voices shouting and it all seems a bit overwhelming for Tauriel 😅

Shouts of merriment, drinking ale, singing

Food is being thrown, belching ensues

*Confused, slightly terrified Tauriel*

*Merry and Pippin having the best night of their lives-*

All the storytelling you could ever ask for 😌💜

The dwarves helping entertain the kids with their impressive cleanup and singing skills, that still makes Bilbo anxious

After supper, tired little Frodo and Sam crawling up into Auntie// Uncle Y/N's lap, full-bellied hobbits yawning and stretching with smiles on their faces ☺

Gimli and the cousins are still a bit rowdy afterward, and Gloin chases the three around to coax them from their energy high 😂

"Git back here, ya wee rascals!"

*Adorable squealing and laughing as they hide behind Auntie Dìs* 🥺

Eventually, the children settle down a bit, and everyone (who could fit) has gathered in the Living room are laughing with ale and wine and tea, sharing embarrassing stories from their childhood, and the great quest a few years prior 💜

Fìli - "I do NOT scream like a bloody woman! My voice just slipped, I swear!"

A very affluent feeling Thorin playing his harp for everyone in the living room

*Bilbo smiling like an idiot 🥴*

Eventually, you need to refill your ale, so Thorin hesitantly offers to take Frodo, and Tauriel, Sam

Little do you know, the two hobbit cousins seem to be planning something as you get up 👀

A little Pippin pulls on your sleeve asking for help with something as you stand in the kitchen and drags you down along the hallway as best as he can 🥺

And through the next doorway appears Merry, tugging a very confused Fìli right along with him

They seem to be headed towards each other...

To an empty doorway...

Where a mistletoe hangs 💜

*nervous sweating* 😳

Somehow, these what... 20 lb? Hobbit children shove the both of you into each other under this blessed greenery

"Come on then Uncle Fìli, give them a kiss!" *kissy faces* 😇

"Its only fair! They saved you from the dreaded Azog!" *attempted eyebrow wiggle* 😏

Fìli is clearly flustered, but you're sure it's not as bad as you since he's playing off his blush with a raised brow as he stares up

The cousins shove you even closer together, chests pressed together and eyes wide open...

Finally, with a shrug, Fìli lifts himself up on his toes and places a chaste kiss against your lips 💜

Kìli, from the other room -"AYE! AMAD, THEY'RE SNOGGING!" 😂

Both very flustered, the two of you join everyone back in the sitting room, a Hobbit in each pair of arms 🥰

You lean against the doorway, Pippin snuggled into your side, and Fìli takes a seat next to his brother

Thorin continues to play his harp, but not without a pointed look towards his blonde nephew

Frodo and Sam are in a deep sleep, curled up against each other on Gandalf's lap as he sits in an undersized armchair 💜

Ori sits in the corner, next to his older brothers, and nose shoved in his sketchbook, occasionally peering up at the be magnificent fir tree that you'd trimmed 😊

Bifur explains to Dìs the art of hunting rabbits in khuzdul, as she responds just as ecstatically

And a cheeky looking grin from Fìli, across the room 🥴

Looking around this space, filled with kind faces, warm laughter, and complete adoration

You just know

All you need is right here in front of you

And you couldn't ask for anything more <3

⚜🔸⚜🔸⚜🔸⚜🔸⚜🔸⚜🔸⚜🔸⚜🔸

Happy Holidays

People who might enjoy :) -

@kumqu4t @tolkien-fantasy @blueberryrock @to-be-frank-i-dont-care @luna-xial @legolaslovely @fizzyxcustard @pistachiozombie @imaginexhobbit @trxblemaker @beenovel

Ty :)

452 notes · View notes

warrioreowynofrohan · 5 years ago

Text

Vice and Virtue in Tolkien’s Works

I’ve been rereading Dante’s Purgatorio (easily my favourite of the three sections, both for having a very satisfying structure and for its themes of repentance and reform), and the structure inspired this post. Each level of purgatory has images, words, or both, associated with the vice being reformed and its corresponding virtue (the examples being drawn both from the Bible and Greco-Roman history and mythology) and it gave me ideas for a discussion of similar themes in Tolkien’s works.

The structure is: 1) Pride/Humility; 2) Envy/Generosity of Spirit; 3) Wrath/Charity; 4) Sloth/Zeal); 5) Avarice/Simplicity; 6) Gluttony/Abstinence; 7) Lust/Romantic Love.

1) Pride/Humility

Saruman: Our time is at hand: the world of Men, which we must rule. But we must have power, power to order all things as we will, for that good which only the Wise can see.

Frodo: I will take the Ring, though I do not know the way.

This is easily the primary emphasis in Tolkien’s works. The fall of all his main villains (Morgoth, Sauron, Fëanor, the Númenoreans, Saruman) and as well as other non-villainous tragic characters (Túrin, Thingol, Turgon, Thorin, Denethor) is characterized by pride - the desire to be the one calling the shots, the desire for greatness and others’ recognition of that greatness, the refusal to listen to the advice or views of others.

It’s there in Melkor’s desire for his theme to be the only one heard in the Music; in Sauron’s desire to rule the world and arrange everything as he thinks best; in Fëanor’s determination to take any advice, correction, or disagreement as a personal attack, his desire for rulership in Middle-earth, and his attitude that the Silmarils are more important than anything anyone else has done or created; the late-stage Númenoreans’ campaign of imperialist conquest. It’s there in Túrin’s, Thingol’s, and Turgon’s rejection of good advice; in Thingol’s attitude towards other peoples, whether it’s Beren or the dwarves; in Denethor’s conviction that Gondor is the only place and people of any account in the war against Sauron.

Humility, in contrast, is mainly seen in the form of hobbits. None of them have any idea what they’re doing when they leave Rivendell (Sam and Pippin don’t even know where Mordor is), and they know they’ve got no idea. They’re not going because they see themselves as specially skilled or qualified, but because it needs to be done. And that’s the very reason Frodo can resist the Ring so long, and Sam can resist it, because they don’t have any grand ideas of themselves.

The ability to say I don’t know what I’m doing, but I’ll try to do what’s right is pretty crucial to humility; even members of the Fellowship who are far more experienced, skilled and knowledgeable than the hobbits show it. Aragorn says it, in the search for Merry and Pippin when they’re captured by orcs. Pride could easily say I need to go with the Ring-bearer, that’s the most important task or I need to go to Gondor and lead the war against Sauron as their King. But Aragorn lets himself trust in other people doing their parts, and focuses on rescuing his companions - the thing that no one else is a available to do - even as the chase seems increasingly hopeless. It’s also seen in Gandalf, who openly admitted he was scared to go when the Valar first sent him, and wandered around as an old man in a battered cloak and hat, talking with everyone, rather than setting himself up as a Respectable Dignified Authority Figure the way Saruman did.

The Silmarillion has fewer examples of humility than LOTR (perhaps why things turn out so much worse there) but there are a few in the Leithian. Lúthien is another case of saying I don’t know what I’m doing, but I’ll do it because no one else will when she sets off to rescue Beren. Finrod walks away from his crown and realm to help a friend.

2) Envy/Generosity of Spirit

Denethor: I will not step down to be the dotatd chamberlain of an upstart.

Faramir: My lord, you called me. I come. What does the king command?

Envy is akin to pride, but I’m characterizing it as being specifically the resentment of being surpassed (or even equalled) by another.

Fëanor is again a major example of this, specifically in his resentment of Fingolfin and of the descendents of Indis more generally. Peoples of Middle-earth notes that he resented the name Nolofinwë (Fingolfin’s Quenya name, roughly means ‘wise-Finwë or ‘learned-Finwë’) due to regarding himself as not only the most skilled of the Noldor at craftwork (which he was), but also the most skilled at lore/scholarship (which he wasn’t), and likewise resented the name Arafinwë (Finarfin’s Quenya name). He’s in a mental place of resenting anything positive that can be said about his brothers as if it inherently detracts from him. And he takes the same attitude towards Men (‘No other race shall oust us!’), treating their very existence as a threat to the Eldar. Losgar is the peak of this: he’s willing to sabotage his own war effort to prevent Fingolfin from participating. This is contasted with Maedhros’ attitude after being rescued by Fingon, when he willingly gives up the crown and, later, moves across Beleriand to the most exposed section of the northern border to avoid conflict. His own status isn’t his priority; peace with his family and the best interests of the war against Morgoth are his priorities.

Denethor is another major example, seeing both Aragorn’s return and Faramir’s respect for Gandalf as personal affronts to himself. (Gandalf points out that the literal job description of a steward is to be in charge until the king returns. When the king comes back, that means you’ve done your job, not that you’re being demoted. Denethor is not interested in hearing this.) He’s also mentioned in the Appendices to have resented the respect and admiration recieved by Thorongil [i.e. Aragorn in disguise] during the days of their youth. In very similar ways, Saruman resented the high regard that some (like Galadriel) had for Gandalf, and saw Gandalf as a rival. Thorongil and Gandalf were not interested in rivalry; they were more interested in what was achieved than in who was achieving it. Faramir is the contrast here - he is interested in the good of Gondor, not his own status, and has no jealousy of Aragorn.

3. Wrath/Charity

Fëanor: See, half-brother! This is sharper than thy tongue. Try but once more to usurp my place and the love of my father, and maybe it will rid the Noldor of one who seeks to be the master of thralls.

Gandalf: It was Pity that stayed Bilbo’s hand; Pity, and Mercy, not to strike without need.

I would say that this is the third-most-emphasized of the vices in Tolkien’s works, after pride and avarice. And, of course, another Fëanor example: both his threat on Fingolfin’s life and his actions during the Return of the Noldor, the latter being driven by wrath primarily against Morgoth and secondarily against everyone else in his vicinity (Valar! Teleri! Fingolfin and anyone who supports him!). It’s the spillover that’s the problem, and the self-centredness; hating Morgoth isn’t a problem in and of itself, but Fëanor’s taking the fight against evil and turning it into a personal vendetta, with disastrous consequences.

Túrin is another example, most particularly in three events: causing the death of Saeros, burning the hall of Brodda in Dor-lómin, and killing Brandir. The former two are provoked, the latter isn’t, but all of them are sudden deeds of anger that only serve to make matters worse.

The contrasting virtue is charity, mercy shown to people that you have good reason to be hostile towards. Fingon’s rescue of Maedhros. Lúthien’s sparing of Curufin when he and Celegorm attacked her and Beren. Frodo sparing Gollum and treating him with kindness and compassion.

4. Sloth/Zeal

Guard Hobbit: It won’t do no good talking that way. He’ll get to hear of it. And if you make so much noise, you’ll wake the Chief’s Big Man.

Merry: Shire-folk have been so comfortable so long they don’t know what to do. They just want a match, though, and they’ll go up in fire.

This is comparatively less of an emphasis in Tolkien’s works than some of the other pairings, but I can think of some examples. The best one is Saruman’s takeover of the Shire and the subsequent liberation. Sloth is the characteristic hobbit vice (not gluttony; I’ll get to that); they tend towards being comfortable and complacent and don’t like being bestirred. Even Frodo dawdled around for half a year after learning about the Ring, mostly because he was reluctant to go. And under first Lotho and then Saruman, everyone (except Tooks) more or less puts up with an abuses because they don’t want the trouble or danger of standing up against them. It’s the return of Merry, Pippin, Sam, and Frodo, who have experience fighting evil on a much larger scale (and who can organize things) that spurs them to stand up for themselves and their home.

5. Avarice/Simplicity

Celegorm: For the Silmarils we alone claim, until the world ends.

Gandalf: I wonder what has become of [the mithril-shirt]? Gathering dust still in Michel Delving Mathom-house, I suppose.

Avarice is, I would say, the second-most-emphasized vice in Tolkien’s works, after pride. The central conflicts in both The Silmarillion and The Lord of the Rings are objects (they’re in the titles!): the Silmarils and the Ring. The Oath is almost the strongest possible expression of avarice, the most extreme statement of this is mine that a person can make; The Ring is an even more extreme expression, as Sauron makes an object that is literally part of himself. And both conflicts are resolved through the renunciation of claim on these objects, in Eärendil’s journey to Valinor (and the Silmaril becoming a star that is seen by everyone and owned by no one) and Frodo and Sam’s mission to destroy the Ring.

The Silmarils themselves are not evil; they are good and hallowed objects, and fights between elves, dwarves, and men are the result of the Oath (the kinslayings) and the connection with the dragon-contaminated and Mîm-cursed treasure of Nargothrond (Thingol and the dwarves of Nogrod). The Ring is evil, and inducing avarice is its most basic power, even among people like Sméagol and Déagol who could never actually wield it; letting it go is incredibly difficult, and Bilbo and Sam are the only people in the history of the Ring ever to do it.

Avarice is also a central theme in The Hobbit, and dragon-treasure is specifically noted as provoking avarice in people who are in any way inclined towards that vice. Smaug is practically a physical manifestation of avarice in his rage over losing one small cup that he has no use for from an immense hoard, and both Thorin and the master of Lake-town fall prey to the dragon-sickness.

I’ve given ‘simplicity’ as the antonym, and I thought of ‘generosity’ as well, but neither of those is quite right. The opposite of avarice is holding lightly to things, and it’s a particular virtue of hobbits. This is seen both in their birthday parties (the tradition of giving away possessions) and the Michel Delving Mathom-house, a museum for old heirlooms that people feel they don’t need to have around. The most beautiful example is Bilbo’s mithril-shirt (worth more than the entire Shire!) spending some time sitting around there.

It’s worth nothing that the vice of avarice in Tolkien’s works isn’t associated with having stuff, just with holding to stuff. Bag End being comfortable isn’t a problem. The Noldor having piles of jewels isn’t a problem provided that they’re sharing them and letting them go, as in the Noontide of Valinor (gemstones scattered on the seashore!) or Finrod giving them away in Middle-earth. The issue comes when the owning becomes what a person values; the signal that Fëanor is becoming too tied to the Silmarils is when he prefers to lock them away so no one else can see them.

6. Gluttony/Abstinence

Gollum: He’ll eat us all, if he gets it, eat all the world!

The lembas had a virtue without which they would long ago have laid down to die. It did not satisfy desire...and yet this waybread of the Elves had a potency that increased as travellers relied on it alone and did not mingle it with other foods. It fed the will, and gave strength to endure...

Gluttony is distinguished from avarice as the desire to consume things, not merely accumulate them. This is an interesting one, because Tolkien has no issue with the consuption of large amounts of food for enjoyment (which hobbits do frequently and enthusiastically!). As with possessions, enjoyment of physical things isn’t seen as problematic. The enjoyment of everyday pleasures is specifically discussed as morally desirable in a way that contrasts with avaricious accumulation (“If more of us valued food and cheer and song above hoarded gold, it would be a merrier world.”)

However, there is one large (very, very large) example of the concept of gluttony as unlimited consumption and appetite: Ungoliant. Ungoliant represents not the hoarding of things, but their destruction, and is continually described with very physical terms of appetite and devouring. Shelob and the spiders of Mirkwood are lesser versions of the same concept. There are other mosters in the same vein: Sauron’s werewolves and Carcharoth. On of the names for Carcharoth is Anfauglir, the Jaws of Thirst, specifically invoking the idea of insatiable consumption.

And gluttony can be described more broadly as an form of overconsumption which uses up or destroys things; pollution could be a modern-day example. Looked at in that way, gluttony can be considered the end-stage of all evil in Tolkien, in the same way that pride is its beginning-stage. The ruin of the Anfauglith, the Desolation of the Morannon, the trees of Fangorn used to feed the fires of Isengard or hacked down for no purpose (and even Losgar, if you like) are all its work. Gollum (heavily driven by mundane hunger) grasps this when he fears Sauron regaining the Ring: “He’ll eat us all, if he gets it, eat all the world!” Ungoliant is the final stage of all evil.

In the same way that hobbits enjoying ample meals isn’t treated as a moral flaw, abstinence isn’t particularly notable as a virtue. However, it does come up in forms like Sam noting that lembas provides more endurance as the hobbits rely on it solely in their final journey to Mordor. This indicates that Tolkien regards the ability to go without physical pleasures when necessary as a virtue (also symbolized by Sam’s heartrending decision to give up his cooking gear!) but doesn’t place value on ascetism for its own sake.

If we want to expand on the metaphorical idea of gluttony as overconsumption/destruction, then we can also see healing/restoration as its opposing virtue, in forms like the box of soil that Galadriel gives Sam, which he uses to restore the trees of the Shire.

7. Lust/Romantic Love

Celegorm became enamoured of [Lúthien]...they purposed to let the King perish, and to keep Lúthien, and force Thingol to give her hand to Celegorm.

Beren: Though all to ruin fell the world, and were dissolved and backward hurled, unmade into the old abyss, yet were its making good, for this - the dusk, the dawn, the earth, the sea - that Lúthien for a time should be.

Lust is often regarded simply as a term for physical attraction, and its condemnation as a type of prudishness, but I’m going to present a different take, one that draws on its connection with the two preceding vices (the three are consistently grouped together by Dante). Lust is when the two previous desires, of ownership and consumption/use, are applied not to objects but to a person.

It��s an extremely rare vice among elves, with only a few examples in Elvish history: Celegorm, Eöl, Maeglin. In all cases, there is sexual desire combined with the desire for control, turning to violence when that control is thwarted: Celegorm’s imprisonment of Lúthien in the attempt to force her to marry him, and the later assault on her and Beren; Eöl’s restrictions on Aredhel and murder of her when she leaves him; Maeglin’s attempt to kidnap Idril during the Fall of Gondolin.

In contrast, the examples of romantic love, which are primarily the elf-human couples and especially Beren and Lúthien, combine desire with value for the freedom and identity of the beloved, and with self-sacrifice (or willingness to take on risks) for their sake. Beren’s song before setting out for Angband is a celebration of Lúthien’s existence, irrespective of what may happen to him. Lúthien counters with the expression that she does not want to exist apart from him, and purpose of lovers is to act together and to guard and support each other. Elwing runs through the waves to Eärendil on the shores of Valinor because she would rather face the same risks he does than be safe apart from him. Eärendil accepts immortality for love of Elwing. Arwen accepts death for love of Aragorn.

#tolkien #the silmarillion #the lord of the rings #christianity #ethics #moral philosophy #fëanor #frodo #gandalf #sauron #beren #lúthien #ëarendil #elwing #celegorm #sam gamgee #denethor #faramir #saruman

156 notes · View notes

growingingreenwood · 5 years ago

Note

Hi! I have a question, in silmarillion Feanor disliked his siblings, prioritized the silmarils above all else and became greedy and ignored the fact that the light in them was not his, believed Melkor’s lies and threated Fingolfin with violence, gave a false speech that caused noldor leaving, the oath, the kinslaying, the burning of the ships... And he is still “the greatest”, “the mightiest” and just the best because what? He was a good smith and made a couple shiny rocks? I don’t understand!

Yeah, my boy Feanor is a hot confusing mess. Was he ultimately responsible for uhhhh 80% of Arda’s problems? Absolutely. Is he still considered the ‘greatest,’ also yes. Here’s why:

"For Fëanor was made the mightiest in all parts of body and mind: in valour, in endurance, in beauty, in understanding, in skill, in strength and subtlety alike: of all the Children of Ilúvatar, and a bright flame was in him." --- “Of the Sun and the Moon”

On top of that he was the best craftsman, gem-smith, and warrior among his people. He completely reinvented a language (Tengwar) and created the Palantiri. (The crystal ball thing that Saruman uses in the Lord of the Rings. The one Pippin takes.)

So he’s like a super, super smart dude. But he’s also got some MAJOR flaws to counterbalance all of this brainpower, namly Pride and Selfishness. Its pretty much down to those two character flaws that can account for most (if not all) of his actions.

Disliking his brothers - Selfishness. Finwe (their father) was Feanor’s favorite person in the entire world, and he did not like having to share his fathers attention with anybody else. Especially two others who were NOT born from the same mother as him. (Finwe is actually the only Elf to have children by two separate elleths, fun fact.)

Believing Melkor's Lie’s - Pride. He took soooo much pride in himself, his mind, and his work that it made perfect and natural sense to him that the literal gods would try to steal one of HIS creations. Pride also applies to him not realizing the light isn't his within the Silmarils, because he’s so prideful of himself that he thinks the Valar should have been as smart as him to keep a piece of the light safe and hidden.

Flight of the Noldor - I mean, in Feanor’s defence, it wansn’t really a ‘false’ speech to him. A bit …… over dramatic But that goes back to his Pride and Selfishness. Something that he coveted was taken (his father and the jewels), and his Pride was wounded irreparably in front of a crowd. That just can’t happen.

The Oath - Pride. He overestimated his ability to single handedly wage war on a literal god to get his property back, because he was too prideful and full of himself to realize that it MIGHT not end well. (his selfishness plays a part here too, when he didnt consider how this Oath could effect his sons. Aka send them to the void forever)

First Kinslaying- Pride & Selfishness. Because he was so proud of himself, he assumed that all others should always be equally impressed, and therefor his personal priorities should always go first. When the Teleri refused to give them the ships, it disagreed with both of those principles. His selfishness would not have let him do anything else, I don't think. Not when he was still that angry.

Leaving His Brother Behind & Burning the Ships - Selfishness. He wanted to make sure that he would be the first one to reach the new land, ensure that he was the one to get the jewels back. Get most of the glory, find the best places to settle.

Eru made Feanor to be one of the most knowledgeable elves in existence, I think he just overlooked the part of his brain that made him APPLY this knowledge to the world around him. For such a smart person he’s so stupid and obviouse, so blinded in his own self-confidence.

Anyways, to sum up: Feanor did some dumb shit, but he was still literally created to (IQ wise) be the ‘best of the Noldor.’

#tolkien #tolkien analysis #feanor #fëanor #silmarillion #silm #noldor #valar #answered asks #fingolfin #first kinslaying #flight of the noldor #lord of the rings #tolkien meta

85 notes · View notes

sunflowerdrake · 4 years ago

Text

Shinobi Hobbits - prologue

Fandom: Naruto x Hobbit/LOTR

No known pairings yet

Summary: Every Shinobi gets the opportunity to be reborn in a more peacefull life. Some take it, others don't. But heir new Shire-life will not stay peaceful for much longer.

Very AU for HobbIt/LOTR timeline

Not pposted on AO3 (yet?)

PROLOGUE:

Religion was never a part of shinobi life. They didn’t believe in a deity who would make everything better after prayer, or who watched over them. This was something that every shinobi had in common, despite all their other numerous differences.

No shinobi really thought about life after death. There was no need to. There life was what mattered. There was no shared mythos of heaven, or hell.

Most hoped to find some peace after the brutal lives they led. Surprising or not, but barely any shinobi died peacefully in their sleep of old age.

And peace they found.

No one ever questioned where hobbits came from.

Elves were the firstborns of the Valar, men came later, and some say dwarves weren't meant to be.

Nonsense of course.

The Ishtari were always sort of there, even if their numbers were few.

But where did Hobbits come from?

No one knew. And no one cared to ask. And none who were alive now could actually recall the truth.

All they had left were stories now. Stories, of their ancestors meeting first the Sage of Six Paths, and later the Valar. Both responsible for this second change. A change given to all the Sage's children.

Some choose not to accept this gift, choosing a different kind of peace. Others grasped it almost desperately, dying to re-meet with loved ones and live the life they had wished for the first time.

True peace wasn't something any shinobi got to know. Not until death. The creation of the Greta shinobi villages had created more peaceful times, to be sure, but violence still reigned. Children were still taught to kill from a young age.

It was better than before. But true peace was a gift. Given to them by their ancestor and strange gods who had created a world and strange people to inhabit it.

Hobbits weren't warriors. They never were meant to be.

And most who choose that life left the violence behind.

They embraced the peaceful life, their plump bodies not made for it, and their will for conflict and violence reduced to nothing. They were gifted land by the Valar, and they were thankful.

The Valley of the Anduin housed them for many years, until the growing darkness chased them out, kill g the fertile land they once lived on.

There is a saying, that every time Hobbit take up weapons again, the world changes.

It was Ashura, who led the remaining Hobbits over the Misty mountains, and to the lands that are now known as the Shire, under the guidance of the Green Lady.

The wandering days were gone, and many Hobbits were lost along the way.

But they found peace again. And for ages, they knew nothing else.

For the truth was, Hobbits were souls reborn.

They were fussy little beings, small with elf ears and big feet. Peaceful beings.

They were made to enjoy life. Because peace wasn't something most got to enjoy, before becoming Hobbits.

All remembered who they once had been. Most chose to forget, and spent most of their life as if this really was their first and only life. Some chose to remember, but to put the past behind them. Very few kept true to their past life, refusing to give up who they had once been, and that was fine as well. These Hobbits kept up their training, and mostly acted as the Shire’s defence, for those few instances a defence was needed. Like that time during the Battle of Greenfields, when goblins tried to invade their home. There had been the Wandering days before that. But generally there was no need to keep up with the skills they had learned in their first live.

The Shire was generally a peaceful place. It had sustained them for generations, giving the battle hardened shinobi a chance at a peaceful life. And most embraced this opportunity with open arms.

Recently though, things had started to change.

After the fourth and last shinobi war, births had increased to an almost uncomfortable amount. The older hobbits realised that their lands were becoming too small for the amount of people in it.

A solution would have to be found in coming years.

The last Shireling to be born was Peregrin Took. He was the last of a wave of babies to be born, a wave bigger than ever before.

Pippin, just like the Faunt born before him, had a unique mark in the palm of one of his hands. A sun, while young Frodo Baggings was born with a moon in the opposite palm.

Pippin, who had not died because of the war, but after it, because he had been the only one left after years of fighting, came into the world without a sound.

His parents, the same ones he had always had but who he only now got a chance to know, were both over enjoyed and sad to welcome him in their lives.

Births always were strange happenings in the Shire. People were happy to reunite, of course, but at the same time sad. Because a birth here, meant someone had died first.

People weren’t exactly born in the same order as in which they died, strangely enough. Some of them were kept in between longer than others.

Children only gradually remembered their past life, if they chose to remember at all. It was why some hobbits got two names. A “true” name, and old name, and the new name they were born with.

Faunts, even remembering their past live, grew up happy. Playing around in the green hills of the Shire, wrecking mischief where possible.

Even if some were born to parents they hadn’t had before. Only active shinobi were reborn after all. Children from civilian families got born into different families, and while confusing sometimes, there weren’t loved any less.

As the years passed and generations grew in number, more and more Hobbits were born.

There wasn’t an immediate problem. Sure, they were many of them, but the Shire was plentiful. They might live a bit cramped in some places, but there is enough food to sustain them all, and no one felt immediate action was required.

Until the Fell Winter.

The cold, harsh winter that would take months and would dwindle their food storage to almost nothing. The winter that brought starving wolves to their lands. Wolves, who on their turn brought wargs and even orcs down with them.

It would be a winter of great change.

#fanfiction #crossover #naruto fanfiction #tolkien fanfiction

1 note · View note

theartofbeinganeldar · 5 years ago

Text

The Art of Being An Eldar: Legolas x Reader Chapter 3

Summary: You, a fantasy-loving LARPing human from Earth, got dropped into a fantasy land that seems familiar to you, but you had no recollection of it. Lord Fabulous Elvenking gave you three days to find the portal that would take you home with the aide of Blue-Eyes and a host of Elves, but what you found instead was the portal was closed for another thousand years. On the way back, you saved Legolas's life, prompting Thranduil to grant you freedom, and after, you finally realized where you were; Middle-Earth. Thranduil summons the council, which is made up of powerful wizards and Elves, to decide what should be done with you...

Chapter No.: Chapter 3

Key: [Y/N]=Your Name [F/N]= Friend's Name [B/N]= Bro's Name [S/N]= Sis's Name [M/N]= Mom's Name [e/c]= eye color [h/c]= hair color [s/c]= skin color

Notes: I think Pippin's song matches the reader's situation very much, which is why I use it so often. I mean, your character fell from everything they know, their "home," and now they can't go back, but now they have this whole magical world and life ahead of them... Grief and sorrow, but things to look forward to in the future.

Warnings: Fluff, angst, graphic depictions of gore and violence (Cuz of orc battles y'know?), more angst, slow burn, some light depression in the first few chapters, some amnesia about Middle-Earth because the Valar say you're not supposed to have foresight, hard-core language, feels, lots and lots of feels, mentions of NSFW content, maybe some eventual NSFW content, LGTBQ+ characters, Thranduil being a jackass at first because he's fabulous, Legolas being a hot edgy prince that nobody can handle, Kili being an innocent bean, Hobbits being smol innocent beans, except for Bilbo 'cause he's been through some tough shit, Bard being dad of the year, Thorin being one dumbass boi, The fucking Silmarillion, awesome dragons, awesome Nazgul, awesome scenery, awesome stuff in general, Elrond isn't listened to by anybody, confused Aragorn is confused, Denethor's a bitch as always, brace yourself for creepy as fuck Cream of Wormtongue Grima Wormtongue, Boromir lives, Gandalf. (yes these are all legit warnings don't judge me.)

Pairings/Ships: Legolas x Reader, Legolas x you, Aragorn x Arwen, Faramir x Eowyn, Thranduil x Elvenqueen, Galadriel x Celery Celeborn, Boromir x OC, Thorin x OC, Fili x OC, etc. general LoTR standard shippings plus some of my own cuz I can't stand my boys being lonely

Word Count: I try to keep my chapters short, under 2000 words.

Rating: Teen (14+) for now

When you woke up, you found yourself blinded by a stupidly bright light that singed your retinas off. "What the hell?" You shielded your eyes as you tried to find the source.

Oh.

It was Thranduil, and beside him, Legolas, the two so bright they could be hung on your porch as bug-zappers.

Ohhhh...

You were in Middle-Earth. Right. Without any memory of it except for bits and pieces. You did remember that you'd watched the movies so many times that you could've recited each line in your sleep and then some, but you couldn't remember anything but what pieces you randomly dreamed of or remembered, which were already starting to fade.

"Hi. Can I help you with something in my half-starved state?"

Blue-Eyes desperately fought a smirk. Thranduil was less impressed. "My son tells me you lost consciousness because of a lack of sustenance. What sort of repayment is that for my favor to you, may I ask?"

You cocked an eyebrow. "Excuse the fuck outta you, Thrandy, but I just learned about a week and a half ago I'd never see my family again. Forgive me if I got upset."

Blue-Eyes turned his head away, trying really hard not to laugh...

"Also," You went on with a forced cocky smile, "I just learned that I'm in Middle-Earth. Where I come from, all this-- the palace, the land, even your fancy Elven toilets-- were created by some old guy called J. R. R. Tolkien, collectively referred to as 'Jrrt.' Now, I don't remember a goddamn thing except for bits and pieces of dialogue and song, even though I knew the stories by heart."

Thranduil and Blue-Eyes-- who was no longer trying not to laugh-- eyed each other suspiciously. "You knew of this place in your world?"

You nodded. "It's very well-known. But, everybody thinks it's fiction. Unaccesible. And be glad about that, too, because if there were a well-known way to get here, there'd be lots of war, new diseases, and this place would be turned to shit, too."

Thranduil stared at you for a minute, before abruptly turning to Legolas. "Son, I am off to the throne room. I shall summon the council at once."

You waited until he left to ask what that meant.

Blue-Eyes smiled slightly. "Meaning, he is not quite certain what should be done with you. The council is made up of some of the oldest and wisest of Middle-Earth, including the wizards and those of my kin, Lady Galadriel and Lord Celeborn of Lothlorien, and Elrond Half-Elven of Rivendell. Do any of those names sound familiar to you?"

You shrugged. "It doesn't matter if they sound familiar or not. I never remember what anybody looks like. I just get an eerie sense of deja vu."

Blue-Eyes raised an eyebrow. "Deja... Vu?"

You sat up more, rolling your eyes. "It means having a sense of familiarity, like, really strongly. Whatever. Tell me who the wizards are."

Blue-Eyes sat at the end of your bed. "The most powerful of the wizards is Saruman the White, who resides in Isengard, on the edge of Fangorn Forest and the Gap of Rohan. The second is Mithrandir, who is most commonly known as Gandalf the Gray by most folk. The third is the much less-known-of and reclusive Radagast the Brown, but I doubt my father will request his presence; he dislikes his excessive behavior." He raised an eyebrow. "Have you heard of them?"

You nodded absentmindedly. "Yeah. So if I'm an Elf, do I like, have to learn how to act like an Elf, or should you let these really important people decide what to do after they've seen who I am?"

"The latter," Blue-Eyes specified, "But it would still be beneficial to learn Elvish. It should take them quite awhile to arrive; between now and then, you should learn as much of it as possible, after I've given you a tour of Mirkwood."

You made a wheel-like motion with your hands. "After I've eaten and taken a bath, I know."

Blue-Eyes patted your leg. A jolt of electricity shot from where he touched you. What the hell? "Good," He stood and started to leave the room. "I will leave you to your own; there is food on the nightstand, and after, a bath across the bridge there," He pointed, and as you looked across the way seen Elves.

Bathing.

Blushing, you looked to Blue-Eyes wildly. "I-I'm supposed to take a bath with other people."

Blue-Eyes frowned in confusion. "Do you not, from your world?"

"Um, no. We all bathe alone. Where I come from, one's own body is considered... Private, to everybody except your doctor or significant other."

"Oh, I see. I could have a private bath prepared for you, if you wish for it," He answered with a smile. "Even here, we may want to bathe on our own to relax. It would not be a problem." He sneered down at you. "I would not want you bathing in the shared springs anyway. You'd dirty the whole lot of them."

With a very childish glare, you stuck your tongue out at him, causing him to have the oddest look he'd had yet. You'd noticed something about him; he had the unique ability to create a range of dynamically comical expressions. "What are you doing?"

You took up a dramatically serious tone. "I am expressing the 'fuck you' gesture in an immature and childish manner used worldwide, even among the youngest." With that, you stuck your tongue out again.

Legolas rolled his eyes. "Very well, then, Sairen, your bath will be ready for you when you are finished with your meal. I will send someone for you in an hour, if that suits you."

"That suits me perfectly fine, but I beg your fucking pardon, was that 'fuck you' in Elvish?"

Legolas grinned. "Not at all, mellon. It means 'fiery' in our tongue."

"Okay." A wry smile spread across your face. "That I can deal with. But what does 'melon' mean? Both you and Tauriel have called me that so far."

Legolas smiled as he began to close the double-doors, though what they did to block you when the room had only two-foot tall walls, you had no idea. "Mellon. It means, 'my friend.'"

A warm feeling blossomed in your chest as he smiled-- for once, genuinely-- at you. You found yourself smiling back as he closed your doors. When he was gone, your smile toned down a bit, and you took a long, deep breath.

You were still upset. Very. On the inside, you felt torn to pieces. You figured it would be a long, long time before you grief lessened, if it ever did. But now that you knew where you were... It was different. You were sure of something. Where you were, and the fact that the Firemoon Portal would only open every thousand years. If you went back then, you'd already be connected to this world, and everyone in it. If time passed the same, your family would be gone, and you'd be mortal again, without a way to wait for the portal to reopen so that you could return to your new friends here.

But... You knew your family. They'd never forget you, and never stop grieving your loss. But, if they thought you might be somewhere better than Earth, and there was no way back... They'd want you to be happy. They'd want you to make a new life. They wouldn't want you to waste your life starving yourself.

You'd miss them... More than anything...

But for now...

You moved the silver platter on your nightstand to your lap, and started eating.

Home is behind...

The world ahead...

And there are many paths to tread...

***

"No, no," Tauriel corrected you. "Mae govannen."

"Mae govAHnnen."

Tauriel bit back an exasperated sigh. "Well... You're close enough."

You'd been in Mirkwood for nearly a month now, not counting the days of your imprisonment and searching for the portal. You wondered what made Thranduil (Who you still called 'Lord Fabulous' on occassion.) release you and treat you as an Elf, and as it turns out, it was Blue-Eyes himself.

Speaking of, you hadn't seen him in days... He kind of... Disappeared. There was still talk of him, and no one seemed to be worried, so you weren't; for Elves that lived forever, you bet anything that he had princely exploring and regular adventuring to do to keep him occupied.

Around the time he left, Tauriel approached you and asked if you knew any Elvish. Aside from sairen and mellon, you knew less than zero. Apparently, it was considered good Elven manners to at least speak a greeting to guests in their own language, despite what Leggy had said. Meaning, to different members of the council, you had to speak a greeting in Quenyan-- which was different from Sindarin, the most common Elvish language-- Common, and Sindarin. You'd memorized the lines, but it was the pronunciation that really befuddled your non-billingual ass.

Now, you'd pretty much gotten the Quenyan greeting: Mae govannen. It meant well met or something along those lines, but you had to add Lord Elrond Half-Elven of Rivendell. I am at your service. Which was much longer and much more complicated. All in all, it pretty much came out to, Mae govannen, Cundo Elrond Peresta-Elda mi Arcimbele. Nanye ketya veume.

English (Common.) was equally as long: Greetings, Gandalf the Gray, Mithrandir, and Saruman the White of Isengard. Welcome to these halls. I am at your service as well, should you need it.

And lastly, to Lady Galadriel and Lord Celeborn, you had to say the most: And ana lye, Heri Galadriel and Cundo Celeborn, elen sila lumenn omentielvo. Nanye aistana et ketya toled.

And to you, Lady Galadriel and Lord Celeborn, a star shines upon the hour of our meeting. I am blessed from your coming.

It was all a mouthful. A regal, elegant mouthful, but a mouthful that your tongue had trouble forming. In addition to all the greetings, you had to address them each in order; first Elrond, then the wizards, then Galadriel and Celeborn at once.

They'd arrived a few days ago, but you hadn't actually been summoned yet. You wondered what Thranduil had told them about you so far. He seemed like the type to exaggerate and make shit up: They're nothing but an abomination! They almost killed Legolas! They tried to kill me! They're dangerous and should be restrained! They toilet-papered my throne room!

The elaborate horns blowing signaled something evidently important; Tauriel's face lit up. "Mellon, it is Legolas! He has returned!"

Despite yourself, your heart jumped like a schoolgirl's. Blue-Eyes was back! "Really?! How do I look? Does it look like I've been taking care of myself?" Legolas would kill you if you weren't. Over the weeks, the blue hair dye had left your hair, returning it to its [h/c] color, even if you did still spike it up-- you'd been an outcast your whole life, so having short spiky hair when everybody else had long, flowing hair made you feel at home. You were dressed in dark browns, nearly blacks, in an outfit very similar to a tunic over leggings, knee-high boots, and all finished up with a long jacket, closed with Elven buckles.

"You look fine, [Y/N]," Tauriel assured you absentmindedly, and the two of you trotted down the many, many stairs and bridges to get to the massive front doors of the palace.

Thranduil and a host of other Elves were greeting Legolas, who looked as if he'd been in Sparkle Land for the last couple weeks. His clothes were in prestine condition. His hair was perfectly plaited away from his face. He wore a faint smile, as if whatever he'd been doing hadn't been stressful at all.

You and Tauriel arrived just as Thranduil finished speaking. "And you failed to locate them?"

Legolas held himself regally. "My apologies, my king. It will not happen again."

Thranduil glared down at him. "I should hope not. You will leave again in three days' time, after you have properly greeted our guests." As Thranduil spun on his heel to leave, Blue-Eyes bowed, rising up again as he seen you and Tauriel.

"Tauriel," He said, his face lighting up. She bowed slightly; apparently Elves didn't hug. He grinned snarkily when he seen you. "And [Y/N]. Last I saw you, your hair was strangely sky-hued."

You scoffed. "You can't even say sky-colored? You have to say sky-hued? Stupid Elves and their fancy ways. Good to see ya anyway, Blue-Eyes, even if you're a priss."

"I believe you mean prince."

You laughed, but it faded when he turned to Tauriel and started speaking in Elvish. He lead her away, talking, leaving you on your own. Your face fell. You wanted to tell him that you knew some greetings. You wanted to say you wanted to go with him when he left again. And the fact that you were already alone here only amplified the feeling of... Jealousy? Disappointment?

You watched them leave for a minute, before deciding you'd take a walk in the Mirkwood-- maybe it'd clear your mind. You nearly rammed into an Elf in turning around. "Whoops."

"Nothing to apologize for," the Elf said; thankfully, they'd caught on to Earth slang and understood you most of the time, instead of just assuming you were insulting them. "Thranduil Elvenking has summoned you to his councilroom. The council awaits you."

Your mouth went dry. All the feelings about Legolas ignoring you vanished in an instant. Oh shit. "I-I don't know where that is. You'll take me there, right?"

"Of course," Said the Elf, and lead the way through the twisting halls. He stopped before the one room of the palace that was actually sealed off from the rest besides the dungeons, with doors almost as big as the ones that lead out of the palace. "Here you are. They're waiting for you." He smiled slightly. "A word of advice for the introductions: let King Thranduil introduce you to them before you say your greetings." You bowed slightly in the Elven way as you thanked him.

You'd be lying if you said you weren't nervous as hell. Meeting a bunch of people, really important people... You'd met some important people before: soldiers were the main ones you'd met, aside from a couple of astronauts. Other than that...

Taking a hugely amplified deep breath, you opened the door.

Inside was a wide winding staircase lit by gorgeously-crafted Elven wall sconces of stained glass and copper metalwork shaped into vines. Every step seemed to echo, and when you reached the top of the staircase, your breath was ripped from you. It was a pavilion. A pavilion in the one place you loved above all else: the sky.

Rails kept anybody from falling off, and it was roofed, so that you could come up here even in the rain. Birds chirped melodiously, and from here, you felt as if you could see all of Middle-Earth. Behind you was a huge mountain range-- you'd never seen mountains before. They were beautiful, snow-capped, and gigantic; the Misty Mountains, obviously. All around you, stretching as far as you could see south and a long way east and west and north, was the Mirkwood, and to the west and north were vast plains, hills, and valleys. Leaves, gold and copper, swirled around the pavilion, giving it an ethereal look. To the west, where you were facing, was a silver lake, wide and glittering in the midday sun. Standing tall and proud beside it was Erebor, home to the King Under the Mountain; currently, Thror. You didn't know why that name seemed so important, though.

You must've turned around in at least a dozen three-sixties, trying to take in what you were seeing. Even if you didn't remember most of it, here you were. You were seeing it, for real and for true, in person, in the home of one of the most revered Elves of Middle-Earth. It seemed unreal, like at any moment, you'd wake up.

A bird, queerly tame, flitted up by your face and up into the rafters; she carried food for her young, and you watched them with a smile, still in disbelief of the views.

A long sigh snapped you out of your trance. Shit. Thranduil waved at you absentmindedly. "Are you daft, vermin? I just introduced you to the council."

"O-oh--"

"Now, now, Thranduil," A wizard chuckled warmly; he wore blue and gray robes, with an immense beard and long hair. Gandalf. "If they really are of another world, then they are obviously stunned by the land. Have you not shown them their new home properly?"

Thranduil nobly facepalmed.

Meanwhile, you realized that it wasn't just Gandalf sitting there smoking his pipe.

Another wizard, this one with long, straight white hair and an equally perfect white beard, in blinding white robes with a white staff: Saruman the White. You didn't know why you got bad vibes from this guy. Beside him sat another Elf, casually, an ankle on his knee and an elbow resting on his higher leg to hold up his head with two fingers. He wore robes of brown and purple, and his long brown hair was held back with a silver Elvish circlet. That had to be Elrond; he looked amused, so you felt kind of relieved. On his left sat a guy who practically glowed, with long blonde hair and white and blue robes. Celeborn. Standing off to the side, with a kind smile like Gandalf, in a billowy white dress with a beautiful Elven circlet made of fine chains and teardrop jewels was a woman, a she-Elf, putting off wisdom-vibes stronger than Gandalf's. Her curling golden hair went well past her waist, and she held herself regally. Out of everyone in this room, she seemed to be the oldest, and the most knowledgeable.

Your Elvish greetings flew right out of your head for a minute, before Thranduil reintroduced you. "This is the council. With us are wizards Saruman the White and Gandalf the Gray, Lord Elrond of House Rivendell, and Lady Galadriel and Lord Celeborn of Lothlorien. Councilmembers, this is [Y/N], the one who appeared from a portal we knew nothing of-- and if I must repeat this once more, I swear to the Valar, I shall throw you off of this pavilion."

Gandalf actually chuckled at that, as did Elrond, while Celeborn cracked a smile. Galadriel seemed to find this all regally amusing. You bowed like Tauriel had showed you. At least, you'd mastered that part. "Mae govannen, Cundo Elrond Peresta-Elda mi Arcimbele. Nanye ketya veume. Greetings, Gandalf the Gray, Mithrandir, and Saruman the White of Isengard. Welcome to these halls. I am at your service as well, should you need it. And ana lye, Heri Galadriel and Cundo Celeborn, elen sila lumenn omentielvo. Nanye aistana et ketya toled."

Elrond looked impressed. "Well, Thranduil, you have certainly trained them well." Thranduil watched you with wide eyes. He hadn't known of your lessons. Suck it, Lord fucking Fabulous.

Celeborn bowed his head. "Your pronunciation is nearly perfect. Well done, young one. However, I doubt you know much else of our tongue yet, so for your sake, we shall converse in Common, if that suits you."

You almost said, It does. Thanks! But that sounded too disrespectful. "Thank you very much." You smiled, and took a seat when Thranduil waved you to the only empty one aside from Galadriel's.

Saruman started off with a wary tone. "Thranduil tells us you come from another world. Is this true?"

Out of the corner of your eyes, you seen Thranduil roll his eyes. "Yes, sir. I come from a place called Earth."

The councilmembers exchanged glances. "That sounds strikingly similar to Middle-Earth," Said Gandalf, and raised an eyebrow. "Are there any similarities between this world, and yours?"

You shook your head sadly. "Not anymore. My people ruined it. There aren't many places like this anymore."

Saruman stiffened. "Then what happens if your people find the portal? Surely, they will try to ruin this, as well?"

You made a face. "They would, yeah, but my people are also really stupid. It'd take a stupid accident and a lot of chance to fall through that portal again, and Legolas said that it only opened once every time a Firemoon happens."

"Legolas?" Elrond asked, curiously, as if this hadn’t been mentioned before. Of course it hadn’t.

You nodded, unsure of why you suddenly had to fight a flush at the mention of his name. "He helped me find the portal with some of his Elven friends when I first got here. We found writing-- he said it was used before the time of even Gondolin. I don't know when that is; is that a long time ago?"

"Very," Replied Gandalf. "Odd... A portal of that magnitude would have to be created by wizards of some sort, especially at such a time..."

A thought suddenly popped into your head. "Some people think we have magic," You piped up, and all eyes were suddenly on you. "But it never works. Not effectively. Just standard hocus-pocus and the power of suggestion. But hundreds of years ago, there was this really mysterious guy who they say really did have magic, which he used to help others. His name was Merlin; he looked kinda like you, Gandalf. But he was in another country, where I come from; where I was when I fell wasn't anywhere near where he traveled."

Saruman narrowed his bird-like eyes. "Then what relevance is this?"

"Because if there was one wizard like you guys in the past," You pointed out, "Why couldn't there be others? There's so much we don't know about history-- we're more intent on wiping out what we don't understand. What if the wizards traveled between worlds and time? Hell, they could be you guys from the future, and it just hasn't happened yet."

"They have a point, Saruman," Gandalf agreed, much to your relief. You didn't think they'd understand the concept of time travel.

"There is nothing we can do about the portal now," Elrond said decisively. "It is closed, and if we tried to destroy it, we could only do damage. It is an easy enough position to defend; should an army come through, they'd have only one entryway."

"Says who?" Saruman challenged. "There could be other portals we do not know of, some that people have not had the misfortune of falling into yet. How do we know that this invader is not a spy to seek out these portals and prepare them for war?"

You fought a sigh. Damn this small-minded son of a bitch... You tried to think of something smart ass to say, but nothing fit the situation.

"They are not, Saruman." Lady Galadriel's voice was sudden, light, and smooth, like honey. It radiated outward with an undeniable power that could make anybody listen to her. "Their thoughts do not lead there." Shit. I mean crap. I mean dang. Mind reader. "They are afraid, and worried... They miss the family they left behind, but they are willing to make a life here, since they have no way of returning."

You nodded. "My thanks, my lady."

Lady Galadriel bowed her head in response.

"Build a life?" Saruman inspected you carefully from where he sat. "You are nothing but an infiltrator. Why should we allow you a place among the citizens of Middle-Earth?"

"It does not have to be here," Thranduil pointed out, and your heart shot to your ankles. "You have an unfortunate habit of collecting needy strays, Elrond; why don't you take them with you when you return to Rivendell?"

Elrond shot him a glare.

Um, I think the fuck not. Lady Galadriel, tell them I say no! Tell them I want to stay here! You thought of the views, and of... of Blue-Eyes...

"Perhaps they should be isolated," Saruman said. "Somewhere they cannot concoct any mischief. Rohan is quite strict, as Gondor is watchful. Either would suffice. Perhaps centuries of isolation in Isengard itself would keep them in line."

"Maybe the Shire would be good for them," Gandalf said. "The hobbits are quite peaceful little creatures. Then again, if isolation is what we are looking for, then Laketown couldn't be better. Or Dale; the dwarves don't let anyone commit any mischief from Erebor."

I don't want to leave...

"Lothlorien would perhaps be suitable," Celeborn added. "Or, maybe even the mines of Moria. I do not have much love for dwarves, but they would be kind enough to them."

"What," Interrupted Galadriel, "Does the subject of our conversation think of this?"

Silence fell. You took a deep breath. "I... I'd like to stay here." You seen Thranduil's head turn slowly to look at you, and you could hear him thinking, the fuck did you just say? "Please, my lord."

A tense silence fell over the room. Finally, Thranduil sighed. "I do not want you here, invader. You would have to prove your loyalty and skill beyond a shadow of a doubt."

You perked up. "Legolas is going on some super-secret missions, right? Maybe I could go with him. You trust him of all people to tell you the truth about me, right? So maybe I could prove myself then."

Thranduil thought about this for a moment. "Legolas is hunting for the orcs who are trying to overtake our borders. He found them, but he let them escape, even though they were a small group. He is leaving in three days with reinforcements; you may join him."

You almost visibly sagged with relief. Almost.

"However," Thranduil added, "If I find his report unsatisfactory, you will go with one of the councilmembers and leave Mirkwood. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes, sir."

"Good."

Elrond nodded to you. "You would have a home in Rivendell. It is the last safe haven of the Elves in Middle-Earth." He gave Thranduil a pointed sideways glance. "My people are welcoming and kind. They would be glad to have you." With a slight roll of his eyes, he gestured to Gandalf. "And of course, Mithrandir..."

Gandalf looked excited. "I would take you on my journeys with me, if you so desired. First, I would take you to the Shire. Very nice people, those hobbits. And of course, dwarves would be next."

"I thank you both," You smiled slightly, and you truly were grateful, but... "Then it is settled," Thranduil said authoritively. "Elrond, Gandalf, you are welcome to stay here until Legolas returns."

"I would be grateful," Elrond said, but Gandalf defiantly snorted. "I, dear Elvenking, already have arranged for lodgings in Laketown. Send for me once they arrive, so that I may know what I must do."

You felt buoyed a little. Gandalf didn't one-hundred-percent think you'd fail. And you wouldn't. You'd kick ass. You'd save Blue-Eyes's ass again. You'd come back triumphant, and Thranduil would have to let you stay.

Wouldn't he?

Thranduil left first with Elrond and Celeborn, followed by Gandalf and Saruman closely. Galadriel looked out over to the lake, all shiny and pretty and with her hair billowing majestically. "Why do you wish to stay among those who do not wish for your presence?"

You were stunned by the question. "I-I don't know... I've lived all my life an outcast... The hated one... I've just grown used to it. Being somewhere where people would be nice to me makes me uncomfortable. But there are a couple of people nice to me, and that's enough."

Galadriel was silent for a moment. "You think of him."

"Uhhh..."

"The prince."

You did blush this time. "I-I don't--"

"You are one of the Eldar now, mellon," Galadriel stated slowly. "Eldar only fall in love once. I have known many who have been broken by that which is unrequited. Do not be one of them."

You thought about her words for a second. "I don't love him... I don't even have like a crush on him or anything..." I've only known him for a couple days, overall.

Galadriel nodded slightly into the breeze. "Sieze it, if the chance arises. But if it does not, or if you do not think it will... I advise you to seek for a home elsewhere." You got the gist. If I do fall for him on my mission, and I know it won't go anywhere... Leave, even if I succeed.

Your heart was heavy at that thought, but you knew she was right. "Thank you, my lady."

"You need not thank a friend for giving advice." She smiled at you, and you left the pavilion with a deep bow, trying desperately not to let your heartstrings fall apart.

Tag List:

@tesserphantom @thedragonghostofmordor @hauntedsiriel @reclusive-chicken-nugget @naryamirie @legolasdeserveslove @escapingthoughtsandsecrets @sagabriar @brushwood-souls @taurlel

If anybody wants to be tagged, just let me know!

71 notes · View notes

justgotham · 6 years ago

Link

We always knew they meant New York," novelist, Lawrence Block, wrote in his intro to the first trade paperback of the DC Comics series, Gotham Central. Block was writing both about the inherent New-Yorkness to Bob Kane's initial vision of Batman's Gotham City and of Ed Brubaker and Greg Rucka's incarnation in Gotham Central.

Gotham Central, which debuted in single issues beginning in 2004, is maybe the most quintessentially New York comic book imagining of the city of bats and cats, robins and riddlers. It's a story not about how a boy billionaire with a grudge and an endless arsenal of super-weaponry handles someone like Mister Freeze, but about how the boys in blue of the Gotham City Police Department deal with them. There's something endemically and irrevocably New York about people running around in strange costumes while often-flawed cops do their best to keep a tight hold on a city that never sleeps.

Ten years after Gotham Central first appeared in comic stores, Gotham, the Fox TV series very loosely based on Brubaker and Rucka's stories, found an even better way to make their Gotham City feel like New York: they filmed there.

And while having the literal New York City skyline to draw inspiration from helped, there was another part of Manhattan specifically that helped give each of Gotham's residents that undeniable New York feel: Broadway.

"I worked on Broadway," says Gotham's current costume designer, John Glaser. "Josh, my assistant, worked on Broadway. ... The painters and the sketch artists have all worked on Broadway. We actually approached each episode like a little Broadway show."

And what advanced techniques were brought from the Great White Way to the Dark Knight?

"Paint and tape," says Glaser. "I hate to say it, but paint and tape make things look the way that they should."

As it turns out, that's a very Broadway approach to costuming. Glaser learned from the best, having assisted under the late, great Patricia Zipprodt, who was the original costume designer for iconic Broadway shows like Fiddler on the Roof, Cabaret, Pippin, and the second longest running show in Broadway history, Chicago.

"Everything was painted, painted, painted, painted. I was a costume painter, so that's instilled in me," says Glaser. "The painting part, some people wouldn't do. Once we actually started to paint things in the first season that we were there and went, 'Oh, this stuff looks much better with the lighting, the dark scenery and the shafts of light.' We always made everything light at the top and dark at the bottom, ombré it down."

There are lots of little fun facts to be learned about the basic costumes and how they echo back to Batman comics, too. It's the little things. "On men's suits, we only used black buttons, no matter what suit it is," he explains. "Black buttons because in the comics all the buttons are black."

For Gotham's fifth and final season, there were creative alterations made to the costumes overall that informed the style of the show, each with specific purpose. "Because they are at war, we got rid of all jewelry," explains Glaser. "It's being melted down to make bullets. Without any jewelry, it kind of changes the look of the show. There are no earrings, there are no necklaces. We didn't want a lot of extraneous costume stuff, just what was really interesting in front of you."

Probably what most separates Gotham from Arrowverse shows or the Marvel Cinematic Universe is how the wardrobe team treats the supervillain costumes and suits. Those, too, get the Broadway treatment. Not at first, though. First, suits for characters like Firefly and Mister Freeze are crafted in Los Angeles. "It's like buying a car," according to Glaser. "They know the body's measured, they make an extra layer of the body for them to give them the right shape, they have the right fabrics, they have the right sculptors, the right fabricators."

But Glaser wasn't a fan of the exactness of these initial designs. "What I didn't like about that was that it looked like a movie costume. We actually took Firefly's costume and Mr. Freeze's costume, after they first wore them, and we started to paint them and age them, just because they didn't look like they were from Gotham. They looked like they were from a different world. We took them back, kept painting them and aging them, putting things on them and making them look more like they were from the city of Gotham."

Sometimes the newness of a costume could even be a problem, especially in Gotham's final season, where everyone is living even more rough than usual. "On Ivy's costume," Glaser uses as an example, "the top of it is flesh and it goes into fabric around her breast and we couldn't figure out how to make that transition without it looking like a skating costume."

So how do you solve that problem beyond paint and tape? "We took it to Izquierdo Studios and I was explaining to Martin Izquierdo what the problem was. He said, 'Alright, just go away for an hour.' We went away for an hour, and then when we came back he had cut, hacked, aged, and torn it, and it looked perfect. It was a dress that melted into her body — so it went from flesh, to fabric, back to skin and flesh, so you couldn't pinpoint whether it was a dress, whether it was her skin, or whether it was vines growing on her. It was vague, misty, and painted with lots of sparkle, so you could never pinpoint what it was. That was a very successful costume."

Beyond the desire to make Gotham feel like New York through the lens of a Broadway show, there was one other consistent challenge: working within the confines of the DC Universe. All live-action TV series that exist within the worlds of DC Comics have to accept that they are second banana in the DC hierarchy. The creators of Arrow had to scrub their Suicide Squad plotline when the film of the same name starring Margot Robbie and Will Smith was greenlit, for example. And so, too, Gotham had to contend with these challenges from a stylistic standpoint.

"There's a thing that Josh and I used to say," admits Glaser. "'If you can't tell what it is, then it's great.' If you can't know where it came from or if you can't pinpoint it, then there was never a problem."

Probably the most infamous struggle Gotham faced in the Batman canon relates to the Joker, in that Gotham simply could not have a character named "the Joker." That is why the twins, Jeremiah and Jerome, were created. And, even then, there was some conflict. "We sent a sketch and he [Jeremiah] had some purple in his suit," Glaser explains. "Warner Bros. said, 'No, you can't use purple.' The producers from Gotham talked with them and they let it pass. I think that was an area or a time when they started to loosen up a little bit, with us. We never got too close to the iconic look of anybody. We always danced around it."

One character from whom there was, surprisingly, no pushback at all was Harley Quinn. "The diamond shapes are painted on so that they kind of fade in and out, kind of ghost-like," reveals Glaser of the initial Harley design. "Every time that we saw her it would get a little more refined. When it started out it was like a dull red and a dull blue. By the time we finished, this is on different clothing, but, still, again, painting, it had become red and white, but because of what she does, we made it look like red blood and white."

You may also have heard that Gotham's final season involves a time jump allowing its audience to see something they've wanted since day one: Batman. And while it's too early yet to reveal everything about the first time we see actor David Mazouz in full Bat-regalia, Glaser did reveal one aspect to the costume that was mandated: "They insisted that the Batman logo be on the belt."

There's so much that goes into costuming a show, there could be a whole series just on the topic. Glaser talked with SYFY WIRE about so much: the muscle suits under the character's clothes, the way each character was built up to be taller and longer, and small details — like the custom made ties for all the men's suits, and how they changed from season to season. Even the background actors got their own story. "For every episode, we would pick a color," says Glaser. "Let's say there's a party scene, we would pick a color and we would pick a vague period and focus on that."

Most of these skills are ones that Glaser and his team learned, not from television, but from their time assisting with, designing, dressing, teching down, and rigging costumes on Broadway, all which helped make the Gotham City of Fox's Gotham the most quintessentially New York incarnation of the DC Universe yet.

#Jeremiah Valeska #Cameron Monaghan #Ecco #Francesca Root-Dodson #Bruce Wayne #David Mazouz

68 notes · View notes

frankterranella · 2 years ago

Text

Here’s my pick for the best musical comedy of all time

If I had to pick my favorite musical, it would be a very tough choice. I love “Seesaw” and “1776” and “Pippin” and “Merrily We Roll Along.” But if I had to choose what I consider to be the best musical ever written, it would have to be “Gypsy.” I was fortunate enough to see a production this week. “Gypsy” was created in 1959 by roughly the same team who had created “West Side Story” on Broadway two years earlier, except that master songwriter Jule Style replaced Leonard Bernstein as composer. Stephen Sondheim again wrote the lyrics; Arthur Laurents wrote the book and Jerome Robbins directed. The musical is the fictionalized life story of Gypsy Rose Lee, the famous burlesque star. But since this was to be a vehicle for the 51-year-old Ethel Merman, the central character is Gypsy Rose Lee’s mother, Rose, probably the greatest stage mother of all time. The show takes us on a ride with Mama Rose, her two children, June and Louise, and her would-be husband Herbie, from the fringes of vaudeville in the 1920s to center stage at Minsky’s burlesque in the 1930s. I think that if I were asked to introduce anyone to musical theater, I would start with “Gypsy,” because I think it is the perfect combination of book and music. The problem many people have with musicals is that the book is often simply a device to connect songs. That’s not the case with “Gypsy,” where the book is so strong it could actually stand on its own as a straight play without any songs and be entertaining. There are few musicals (notably “1776”) that can claim that. The other thing that “Gypsy” has going for it is that it has quite simply the best overture of any Broadway musical. Orchestrator Sid Ramin, who also worked on “West Side Story” (with Irwin Kostal), took Jule Styne’s songs and created a masterpiece. Overtures traditionally were simply music to get people to sit down and shut up before the curtain went up. But this overture is a work of art. It perfectly creates the mood of the show to come and generates excitement and anticipation of a great night in the theater. The overture begins with a cymbal crash and four quarter notes (A-D-A-E) played by the trumpets. Those four notes correspond to the words “I Have A Dream” that Rose sings at the beginning and end of the show (four years before Martin Luther King made those words immortal). In fact, the entire show is propelled by Rose’s dreams. The show opens with an example Rose’s bullying tactics as she works to fulfill her dream, this time to get her daughters into Uncle Jocko’s Kiddie Show. But the second song of the show is the traditional “I Want” song where the protagonist sings about her goals in life. Here, in the hands of composer Jule Styne with Stephen Sondheim’s lyrics, we learn what makes Mama Rose tick. The song is “Some People” (you can hear Ethel Merman sing it at https://youtu.be/U_r5SizITAE). The scene is Rose’s father’s house where she is trying to get him to give her $88 so she can put together an act to take on the road. She begins singing:

Some people can get a thrill Knitting sweaters and sitting still— That's okay for some people Who don't know they're alive

Some people can thrive and bloom Living life in a living room That's perfect for some people Of one hundred and five!

But I at least gotta try When I think of All the sights that I gotta see yet All the places I gotta play All the things that I gotta be yet Come on, Poppa, whaddaya say?

Some people can be content Playing bingo and paying rent— That's peachy for some people For some Hum-Drum People to be But some people ain't me!

Like many extraordinary people, Rose can think of nothing worse than being ordinary. She has a dream, and now she uses the first four notes of the overture to sing about it:

I had a dream A wonderful dream, Poppa All about June and the Orpheum circuit— Gimme a chance and I know I can work it

I had a dream Just as real as can be, Poppa There I was in Mr. Orpheum's office And he was saying to me:

"Rose! Get yourself some new orchestrations New routines and red velvet curtains Get a feathered hat for the Baby Photographs in front of the theatre Get an agent—and in jig time You'll be being booked in the big time!"

Oh, what a dream A wonderful dream, Poppa And all that I need Is eighty-eight bucks, Poppa That's what he said, Poppa Only eighty-eight bucks, Poppa

Unfortunately, her father has heard this song before and he’s having none of it. He wants her to get a job and settle down in Seattle. So he tells her:

You ain't gettin' eighty-eight cents from me, Rose! (interesting fact: this line was voiced by Stephen Sondheim on the original cast album)

Rose replies:

Then I'll get it someplace else—but I'll get it and get my kids out!

Rose is determined to fulfill her dreams. And she’s going to do that by any means necessary:

Goodbye To blueberry pie! Good riddance to all the socials I had to go to All the lodges I had to play All the Shriners I said hello to— Hey, L.A., I'm coming your way!

Some people sit on their butts Got the dream—yeah, but not the guts! That's living for some people For some Hum-Drum People, I suppose Well, they can stay and rot— But not Rose!

And with that, Rose, her girls, and the show, hit the road. From then on, it’s a classic show business tale. Although the story was supposedly based on Gypsy Rose Lee’s autobiography, Gypsy apparently told Arthur Laurents to change anything he wanted for the sake of a good show. That’s why the full name of the show is “Gypsy—A Musical Fable.”

I make it a point to see “Gypsy” at least once a decade, and I listen to the score regularly. I wasn’t fortunate enough to see Ethel Merman as Mama Rose. (My parents weren’t likely to take a six-year-old to a show about a stripper.) But I saw the first Broadway revival in 1974 with Angela Lansbury, and several other productions since. The show is so strong that I can honestly say I’ve never seen a bad production. If you’ve never seen it, seek it out. If you have seen it, take others. And don’t be afraid to take children. There are lots of children in the show for heaven’s sake! Children need to see the power of the words “I Have a Dream.”

0 notes

ao3feed-tolkien · 2 years ago

Text

Tookishness is Genetic

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/Iwvps26

by Applesauce and Chocolate (Menili)

This is a ficlet about Sam, written for a Math project for Pi Day (March 14--3.14). They said we could do anything as long as it had some math in it. So ignore the math, enjoy the fic.

A Took creates a problem, but it's nothing Mayor Samwise can't fix!

Words: 1813, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Fandoms: The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien, The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings (Movies)

Rating: General Audiences

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Characters: Sam Gamgee, Pippin Took, Merry Brandybuck

Additional Tags: Fourth Age, Pi Day

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/Iwvps26

#IFTTT #ao3feed #fanfic #Tolkien #JRR Tolkien #Tolkien works #ao3 #fan fiction

0 notes

hocats-blog · 6 years ago

Text

7 Lord of the Rings Fan Theories to Rule Them All

As you probably remember, Gollum wasn't always Gollum. For a time he was Smeagol, a Hobbit quickly corrupted by the power of the One Ring. It was his "precious" that afforded him an extraordinarily long life, and warped him into the scrappy half-naked mangoblin that becomes the bane of Frodo and Sam. Though he's been Gollum far longer than he was Smeagol, at times there seems to be a war of identities going on within the sad creature. We assume that the centuries he's spent under the ring's influence has created this rift within the character, but that might not be the case at all. One intriguing fan theory claims that Gollum is actually a personality inside the ring, an entity that can possess anyone. The identity isn't unique to Smeagol, meaning that if someone like Aragorn held it long enough, he'd turn into a pasty diaper-wearing wretch just the same as you would. Think about those we know who have held the ring for an extended period of time. Right off the bat, there's Bilbo Baggins. He seemed relatively chill about the ring and managed to hold onto it for years without going nanners, but we definitely saw some cracks forming in his psyche when Gandalf came to town. Bilbo was less than thrilled about having his "precious" taken away. That, right there -- Bilbo unconsciously "gollum'd." That's the "Gollum personality" breaking through, its infection spreading within Bilbo. The possession gets a bit more overt later on during a conversation with Frodo, at which point Bilbo's face makes a hellish transformation. Looks a lot like Gollum, doesn't it? Bilbo doesn't just call the ring his "precious" just because he heard Gollum say that -- that's actually Gollum talking through Bilbo. For more proof, we have to look no further than Isildur. Remember Isildur is the one who lopped Sauron's fingers off and took the ring? Isildur is also the same shitbrick who, given the chance, didn't toss the ring into the fires of Mount Doom. Instead, he wore it around his neck, which is more or less the Middle-earth equivalent of treating a nuclear warhead like a piece of bling. The corrosive power eventually killed Isildur, but not before he wrote about the ring in a series of creepy journals. Gandalf discovered these writings, and found one particularly disturbing passage. Could it really be a coincidence that a dude who lived thousands of years before Smeagol would used the same word to describe the One Ring? Probably not. It seems a lot more likely that Gollum is a personality inside the ring that infects its host and possesses them to protect the ring and do Sauron's bidding. If Isildur's hubris hadn't ended him, it may well have been his wispy form that Bilbo came across on his initial adventure in The Hobbit. Now, the name "Gollum" is merely the name given to Smeagol after his neighors kept seeing him hacking up a lung every day, so it's probably not the actual title of the deity inside the ring. But the name "Gollum" has significance, in that it's pretty close to "golem," the mythological creature which is made of inanimate materials, but given life from an outside force. It's a compelling theory not because it dramatically changes the story, but because it gives you a new perspective on what the ringbearers must have been going through. That, and it's fun imagining a crazed Viggo Mortensen wearing a diaper.

This is a stupid idea. No one's going to actually come out and say that J.R.R. Tolkien created Albus Dumbledore and the world of Harry Potter. But it's a testament to the strength of fan theories that some beautiful bastard could come up with a convincing explanation that links Hogwarts and Middle-earth. It all relies on the fact that there are five Istari -- better known as "wizards" to people who have seen the sun in the last two weeks -- in the realm of this fiction. You probably already know three of them: Gandalf the Grey, Saruman the White and Radagast "That Forest Hippie Who Refuses to Clean the Birdshit Out of His Beard" the Brown. The missing pieces of this magical grandpa pie are the two "Blue Wizards," which Tolkien glossed over briefly but never really followed up on. Last we heard, they were sent into Mordor to quell the threat of Sauron. They weren't seen again, but there's also no explicit mention of their deaths. The two blue wizards could be anyone, which is why it's entirely possible that they are in fact Albus Dumbledore and his nemesis/boytoy Gellen Grindelwald. All it would take is a temporal or multidimensional mishap, and they'd be in the modern world of muggles. How they got to Earth from Middle-earth isn't as important as the thematical connections. Dumbledore says that "It is important to fight, and fight again, and keep fighting, for only then can evil be kept at bay, though never quite eradicated." Meaning that he wasn't going to give up once Sauron was down for the count. Though Grindelwald fell to the "dark side" like Saruman before him, Dumbledore kept up the fight and was eventually upgraded from "Dumbledore the Blue" to "Dumbledore the White." It fits, especially because in Latin, "Albus" literally translates to "white." It makes sense that Dumbledore took the job at Hogwarts, as that was the place he could best mount his defense of the world. Once there, he builds an army of wizards to do just that. And yet, he still remembers where he came from, which explains why there's a portrait of Gandalf the Grey hanging in Dumbledore's office. Dumbledore had already assembled his wizard defense force, so he passed off into the undying lands in the most fantastical way possible. The entire theory sheds new light on Dumbledore's words: "Ah, music. A magic far beyond all we do here!" As it so happens, the world of Middle-earth was created via song by the Illuvatar. Did J.K. Rowling write Dumbledore with Tolkien's lost wizards in mind? It's not impossible, but it's probably unlikely. It doesn't matter, because veracity isn't the point of this fan theory. The real strength of this tangled yarn is just how creative it is in weaving two disparate but similar fictions together. These two worlds don't exist anyway, so why can't they they exist in the same place?

Though it's not featured in a big way in the films, the books go into a little more detail about the death of Frodo's parents. Drogo and Primula Baggins drowning during a freak boating accident is tragic, but storywise, it gives Frodo less of a reason to be tied down to the Shire. But one fan theory suggests there's a darker undercurrent to this story, that Frodo's parents were in fact murdered. The culprit: Gollum. We all know that creepazoid is capable of murder. It's arguably the first thing Smeagol ever did as Gollum. After the events of the Hobbit, Gollum set about finding the his precious stolen ring. Problem was, Gollum really only had two things to go on when it came to finding the ring: "Baggins" and "Shire." It's not out of the question that he might come across the Brandywine River on his quest, and he would certainly kill any Bagginses he found there. The theory is propped up by the questionable circumstances of the deaths. There seems to be a question among the Hobbits as to just how Frodo's parents passed. Whatever the case, both Drogo and Primula were pretty experienced boaters, so it's more than a little surprising that they would just fall in the water and die. No, it makes more sense that an angry Gollum murdered them straight out, giving up on his mission once he found nothing on their person. The only real damper on this theory is Gandalf, who claims that Gollum never made it to the Brandywine. That would seem to put an end to this theory, but put yourself in Gandalf's old man shoes for a minute. You're talking to Frodo, the guy who is going to lug the world's most dangerous weapon across a continent, and he's pretty fragile as it is. Now imagine if Gandalf decided to tell Frodo that the same guy who guides him through Mordor is the one that deprived him of his parents -- he'd undoubtedly lose himself to rage at some point, and as a result succumb to the power of the ring itself. If Gandalf hadn't pulled off an Obi-Wan-tier lie, our story would be over before it began. To be fair, at least that one ending is preferable to like seventy.

This almost feels like cheating. This "fan theory" is so perfect, fits so well into the mythos of the series that it's basically canon. But that's exactly the reason it can't be ignored. Just after the Fellowship is formed, the angelic Lady Galadriel offers each member of the group a special gift. Legolas got a rad new bow, Pippin and Merry each received sweet daggers, and Boromir was bestowed with a tacky gold belt that did not go with his bracers. The most interesting gift was that given to Gimli, the dwarf. While most others just took what was handed to them, Galadriel actually asked Gimli what he wanted from the elves. After a bit of stammering, Gimli gave in and requested his greatest desire. Others were naturally curious about this mystery gift. Asking for (and actually GETTING) a strand of Galadriel's hair might sound creepy, but it's really a huge deal. To explain why, we have to rewind a few thousand years. Several millennia before the War of the Ring, there was this shitbird named Feanor. Now, Feanor is a grade-A dickweed, but even he can see how lovely Galadriel is. As the legend has it, Feanor too asked for a single strand of Galadriel's hair, but he was denied. Twice more Feanor made the same request, and twice more he was shut down. Dude wasn't worthy of Galadriel's crusty toenail clippings, much less her luscious locks. Flash forward to the Fellowship, and Gimli's wish for a strand of Galadriel's flawless hair is granted threefold. Though Gimli is likely oblivious to the significance of the gesture, Legolas' smile tells us he understands. Up to this point, dwarves and elves had an uneasy relationship, like co-workers that hate each other but stay cool because they have to be in close proximity every day. But Galadriel saw the innate goodness in Gimli, and rewarded him thrice over. You can almost hear Feanor grumbling "It still only counts as one."

#the lord of the rings #lord of the rings #the hobbit #reviewbooks #reviews

2 notes · View notes