#sorry to be all “go not to the elves for counsel for they will answer both no and yes” but I don't know how to recommend things to people

[justsomerandomfanfic]

Come With Me - Bilbo Baggins X Female Reader

Title: Come With Me

Bilbo Baggins X Female Reader

Additional Characters: Thorin, Lord Elrond, Thranduil (Mentioned), and the other dwarves

WC: 1,577

Warnings: N/A

Rivendell. A beautiful Elven kingdom that was hidden in the mountains of Middle Earth. The architecture was beautiful; the pure meaning of elegance. It was like no other place Bilbo had ever been before. Everything about it enchanted him from the moment he and the dwarves arrived. He felt at home here, as if this were where he should be. Lord Elrond had greeted them warmly, letting them stay for the time being before they went back to claim their mountain.

Bilbo walked around Rivendell, taking in its amazing scenery.

"I've never seen such beauty," He said admiringly to himself "It's like nothing I have ever experienced."

"Thank you very much," Elrond smiled politely, coming up behind them.

Bilbo turned, a bit surprised, before looking back out at the high mountains and shimmering waterfalls.

"Not with your companions?" Lord Elrond asked, and Bilbo sighed.

"Uh... I doubt that I will be missed" Bilbo stumbled. "The truth is, that most of them don't like me much being... On this journey." He spoke, disheartened.

"Indeed," Elrond said softly, looking down at the Hobbit before looking around his lands. "I've heard that Hobbits are really resilient."

Bilbo looked up at Elrond, surprised. A small laugh escaped him, before his eyebrows furrowed.

"Really?"

Elrond nodded, "I also heard that they're fond of the comforts of home."

Bilbo looked at him briefly, before looking around as if to tell a secret. "I've heard it is unwise to seek the counsel of elves; for they answer yes and no."

Elron looked down at Bilbo with a frown, and for a slight moment, Bilbo thought he had said something that he should've had. But, the Elven Lord smiled. Bilbo laughed awkwardly.

"You are very welcome to stay here if that is your wish." Elrond spoke, placing his hand on Bilbo's shoulder before leaving the balcony.

Bilbo looked off in thought before his thoughts were interrupted.

"Excuse me," A voice called to him.

Bilbo turned around, surprised to see a young woman in elven clothing, though she didn't look like she was an elf. Bilbo was taken back by her beauty. She wore a long, F/C lace gown, but what caught Bilbo's attention was the silver crown placed upon her head. She looked very familiar, almost like he knew this person. But, he had never met her before, he was sure of it.He felt his heart quicken in his chest, his eyes widened slightly, his hands felt sweaty.

"Um, yes? How may I help you?" He asked, stumbling over his words.

She smiled, "I'm sorry to bother you, but are you Bilbo Baggins?"

Bilbo blinked, confused. "Yes, I am."

"Oh! Good, well, Thorin will be needing you shortly." She spoke, looking somewhat flustered.

"Thorin?" Bilbo repeated, alarmed. "What does he need me for?"

"He wants to see you, and talk to you before you all leave."

Bilbo nodded, and you were about to take your leave, but Bilbo stopped you.

"Wait, what is your name?" He asked curiously, wanting to know more about this woman before he left.

"My name is Y/N." She answered, looking at him shyly.

"Well, Lady Y/N, thank you for telling me. But, uh, how do you know he wants to speak to me?" He asked, and you smiled softly.

"I have vision seeing. I sometimes get visions and this one had you and Thorin. I'm sorry, I must go." Y/N bowed politely and walked away.

Bilbo looked at the ground, he's never met someone who had visions before. From that point forward Bilbo thought you were fascinating. But, before he could daydream about you any longer, Thorin came in.

"Bilbo, I need to speak with you," Thorin spoke, but he paused, noticing the glimmer in Bilbo's eyes. "Are you alright? You seem distracted."

Bilbo shook his head, "Yes, I'm fine." He lied.

Thorin frowned, "I hope so."

~~~

At supper, Bilbo sat at the large table with the rest of the dwarves and Lord Elrond. Suddenly, the double doors of the room opened by the guards and you rushed in. Bilbo watched as you apologized in Elvish before taking your seat across from him. Bilbo looked up at you nervously, wondering what had happened.

"Sorry I was late, I had a vision." You spoke and the whole table paused to hear what you had to say.

"Go on, Lady Y/N." Lord Elrond spoke, and you nodded with a smile, though it was bittersweet.

"I saw the future." You spoke before one of the dwarves interrupted.

"What did you see, las?"

You smiled, patiently, "The dwarves are going to venture to Mirkwood, and speak to Lord Thranduil. But... You must be careful. I don't know what will happen next, but be wary."

Everyone listened, and Thorin nodded with a worried expression on his face.

"Very well, we shall be cautious," Thorin muttered, and everyone nodded.

"Thank you, Lady Y/N. Now, on to lighter things," Elrond said, clapping his hands once. "Dessert."

~~~

You stood on a balcony, overlooking the bright stars in the sky. You were dressed, wearing a simple silk gown. Your hair was tied in a ponytail, and your eyes sparkled in the moonlight.

You heard the pattering of feet and looked behind you, seeing a surprised Bilbo.

"Uh, ah, sorry, I didn't know this balcony was occupied." He spoke, turning back around, but you stopped him, placing your hand on his shoulder.

"It's alright, I knew you were coming. Stay with me, why don't you?" You whispered, smiling at him.

Bilbo blushed, trying to hide his embarrassment. You giggled lightly, admiring the Hobbit before you. He twitched his nose, which you thought was absolutely adorable.

"I..." He started, but then he looked at you, and was overcome with emotion.

"It's big enough for two." You joked.

Bilbo took in a deep breath and stepped closer to you. Standing beside you the two of you looked up into the night sky.

"I wanted to tell you when the others weren't here... But, Thorin will fall into a sickness."

Bilbo said nothing, shocked.

"You must be careful, Mr. Baggins. He will stop at nothing to get the Arkenstone." You spoke grimly, looking down at the Hobbit.

Bilbo looked up at you, his eyes full of fear.

"But... Promise you'll be careful."

Bilbo nodded, "I promise." He looked around frantically, his mind racing.

"But, what do I do?" He asked and you sighed, looking back at the stars.

"If you find the stone... Don't let him have it." You whispered.

Bilbo nodded solemnly, "Alright."

"I know you and Thorin are close, but you must be careful. If you need me, I can guide you on your journey; just find me before you go." You tried to reassure him, and he smiled lovingly up at you.

"I know, but what will I do without you?"

You chuckled, "You got this far without me, didn't you. You fought many battles before."

Bilbo looked down at his feet, and you put your hand on his shoulder, "Don't worry, you can handle anything. I know you can."

Bilbo looked up at you and smiled, "Thank you."

You leaned in and kissed Bilbo gently on the cheek. You pulled back to look into his eyes, and he smiled back.

"Now, go to sleep, tomorrow you set off."

~~~

Bilbo repacked his things before he quickly made his way to the same balcony from the night before. There, you were standing. Bilbo's smile widened. He stood beside you, looking at the beautiful scenery once more before he had to go.

"Lord Elrond speaks the truth." You spoke softly.

Bilbo turned to look up at you, "The truth?"

You looked down at him with a small smile. "You may stay here. If you wish to, that is."

Bilbo looked at the shimmering waterfalls and high mountains, nodding.

"Hmm, yes. I know." He replied, looking back at you. "Will you be here?"

"Yes, I will. I have nowhere else to go I'm afraid."

Bilbo hummed again before getting an idea.

"Come with me." He spoke, looking up at you with bright eyes.

"What?" You asked, and Bilbo continued.

"Come with me to Bag End."

He had such hope that you would agree.

Biting your lip you looked away. Bilbo's smile weakened.

"I don't know if I can, Bilbo. Lord Elrond needs me here."

Bilbo sighed, nodding his head. "I... I understand."

"My child." A deep, yet calm voice spoke.

You and Bilbo turned to see Lord Elrond before you. He smiled gently between you two.

"If you wish to go with him after his journey, then do as you wish. I won't keep you here."

Your eyes widened, "Are you sure, My Lord?" You asked and the Elven Lord nodded.

"Yes, I can see where your heart lies. Follow it. And, before you leave, we shall have a bountiful feast in your honor for helping us for so long." He spoke, and you had to hold back your tears of joy.

"Thank you, My Lord."

Lord Elrond nodded, bowing briefly before he left completely. Alone again, you turned to Bilbo with a smile.

"I did not see that coming." You laughed, and Bilbo followed.

"Lady Y/N, would you do me the honor of living with me in Bag End? If I come back?" He asked, and you didn't hesitate to say yes.

"When you get back, Bilbo. I would love to."

[theblogofdurin]

Rough, quick one-shot-

word count: 757

-mild angst followed by mild happiness-

a/n: sorry not sorry, I didn't revise before posting 🤷🏻‍♀️

----------------------------------------

“I think I am quite ready for another adventure.” Bilbo smiled excitedly as he moved to grip Elrond's hand. The Elf smiled brightly at the little hobbit as he carefully led him up the small ramp into the small vessel. 

Bilbo sighed happily as he leaned against his walking stick near the railing on the main deck.  The smell that was in the air was something so familiar to him that he couldn't hold a sigh of contentment.

Bilbo's memory may be slower and now fading at the ripe age of 129 but he could never forget that smell of adventure that came with the unknowing. It was a smell that brought Bilbo great comfort but also great sadness as he remembered his past fellow companions.

“My Lord Elrond.” Bilbo spoke gently, almost shaking as he looked up at the tall Elf. “When we arrive at our destination...What is it that we are expected to find?”

After spending a decent amount of time recently with the old hobbit, Elrond was quick to understand the true background of his words. “I do not know what all that awaits us, My Mellon. We can only hope for good things.” The hobbit snorted and Elrond raised a quizzical brow.

"Remember that saying that I told you when we first met?" Elrond smiled at the memory as he repeated that very saying. "'Go not to the Elves for counsel for they will answer both no and yes' Yes I remember fondly that phrase." 

"It was very well proven there."

Chuckling and shaking his head, Elrond didn’t get a chance to reply before Gandalf and Frodo joined the two.

Frodo, red-eyed, wrapped a tight hug around his uncle. The action made Bilbo smile waterly and rub a gentle tremoring hand on Frodo's back, as the younger hobbit spoke into his uncle's shoulder. 

“I didn’t truly realize how hard saying goodbye would be.” 

“Living with me, my boy, you should already know.”

“What do you mean, Uncle?”

“That goodbyes are nothing but ‘See you soon’ when it comes to true relationships.” Gandalf and Elrond smiled down at the two, a knowing glint in both of their eyes as their gazes met. 



With the final passengers on board, the sails were lowered and the final journey of the last member of Thorin Oakenshield’s Company began. 

As former Ring-bearers, Bilbo and Frodo Baggins were granted the luxury only a selected handful of the free people of all Middle-Earth have been awarded. 

A trip to the closest thing to Heaven in all of Middle-Earth. 

A place in the Grey Havens. The place that could heal and strengthen many; however, there are some things that it can not cure or prevent… Death being one of them.

Bilbo Baggins of Bag-End went peacefully and quietly sometime in the late hours of the first night of his new adventure. Though he was alone at the time, ( something that Frodo had taken rather hard.), Frodo knew deep down that his uncle was not alone for long…

---------------------------------------------------------

"Uncle! Uncle!"

"Mahal's Beard, it was about time!"

"Shamukh!!"

"Bilbo's here?"

"I'll get the fire going!"

"MASTER BOGGINS!"

Grunting at the sudden total weight on his chest, Bilbo rolled and pushed at his sudden attacker. 

“Kili, would you-” Bolting straight up once he realized what he just said, Bilbo rubbed at his eyes cartoonishly as he took in the sight before him with his mouth agape. 

Sitting around the open fire as they all had done for many nights on their quest. Everyone smiled and waited patiently for the hobbit to register his surrounding. Like they had all down at various points over the years. Dori, Nori and Ori were on the longest of the logs, with Ori tucked happily in between his older brothers. Oin and Gloin were just across the fire from the three, sitting on the shorter one of the logs. Bilbo's eyes widened slightly at the sight of the ginger dwarf, hadn't he seen him healthy and happy just a few years ago? Gloin nodded with a smile and Bilbo realized that...war takes its toll on all. Bilbo had been lucky that he's memory left him soon after the council meeting, for the stress sending his son on a mission to Mt. Doom was too much for Gloin and abilbo could've only imagined.

Turning to look over the rest of the camp,  Bilbo followed the line of amused faces of Bofur, Bifur, and Bombur, as they laughed in joy at seeing their hobbit friend. Bilbo didn't forget to catch Balin and Dwalin leaned up against the rock face that was on the back of the camp. The two older brothers smiled knowingly and nodded in acknowledgment as Bilbo met their gazes. 

All of them, Bilbo realized, looked exactly the same as they did when they all knocked and burst through his door at Bag-End that fateful night. Bilbo's mind shook as he moved to rub at his eyes again.

Kili was just as he remembered and so was Fili, who was not far behind his brother. Bilbo could him see over Kili shoulder, currently shoving a taller dark figure whose back was turned away from the rest. Fili was practically jumping as he pointed and gestured over at Bilbo for his uncle to see.

Speaking of not aging, next to the quivering hobbit there was Kili, kneeling and smiling so brightly at the bewildered look on Bilbo's face as he looked up at him. Kili tilted his back in a loud laugh and clapped a hand against Bilbo's back.

"It's nice to see you again Master Boggins. We were starting to wonder if our burglar was ever going to join us."

Bilbo had never been so on edge then he was now as he watched as Thorin turned to face him. But Bilbo nerves were pointless, as the young king smiled even more brightly than Kili. 

"Did you at least remember to bring your handkerchief this time?"

Bilbo scoffed.

--------------------------

[theelvenhaven]

Rumors

Fingon x Reader

2k words

* * * 

You paced intensely in the sitting room waiting impatiently for the talk that was to be had, all should be well considering the wonderful circumstances. Your fiance had been reborn, finally home from war torn Beleriand after being apart for so long! Happiness should fill you to the brim, and you should be full of excitement to see him again!

You should as well be excited for this private meeting you had called for! To once again lay eyes on your love. To embrace and kiss him! Yet happiness was not what you were feeling, dread had been weighing heavily on your shoulders since you received the news of the existence of Gil-Galad. 

There was so much uncertainty circling around his parentage, no one could seem to get their story straight. Some said that Gil-Galad was the son of Orodreth, sister to Finduilas, yet the most consistent rumor that seemed to exist was that Fingon was his Atar. Many elves reporting that the resemblance was uncanny and with that the news left you heartbroken. 

You constantly told yourself that you should be happy that Fingon had found happiness in Beleriand. So much of it that he was able to start a family, yet you couldn't stop the ache that filled your chest every time you thought of him being happy with someone other than you.

You felt utterly foolish that you thought you had found your one, and to discover that was not the case was soul shattering. You had done your best to make peace with it, to find counsel where you could. Anaire had been more than open to comforting you despite the circumstances and said actions of her son.

Now today you knew you had to face Fingon, it was already obvious enough that you would need to tell him badly he had hurt you but that you supposed you were happy for him. That you would accept that your engagement was now null and void, and it shattered the peace that you had managed to pull together.

Though you couldn't bring yourself to necessarily be mad that he didn't tell you. How could he? You were here in Valinor and he had been in Beleriand in exile, it wasn't as if you could write him a letter. 

You finally paused in your pacing, looking out the windows and over Tirion in silence wringing your hands as you waited. The sprawling silvery buildings pulling you from you worried thoughts, the rays of Anar making them sparkle like precious metals... No sooner than you had become engrossed in the beauty of your home did the door open.

"Y/N!" His voice called out with great happiness as you heard him hurry into the room. Quickly you turned around feeling the tears brim as you laid eyes on him for the first time in what felt like forever. He was as handsome as ever, dressed richly in deep indigo robes and tunic, gold was embroidered on the sleeves and collar.

His hair was still done in the same fashion as before he had left for Beleriand, two braids done down one on each side of his temple, with gold weaved in. Contrasting beautifully with his black hair, and his bright blue eyes seemed to shine with great light as they gazed upon you.

“Fingon.” You greeted with emotion in your voice, arms folded across your chest protectively, trying to soothe the hurt that bubbled inside. A wide and happy smile pulling at his lips as he stared at you, it was as he came closer that you began to try and keep the distance from him. 

You began to back away from his quick and encroaching strides, boots thudding softly on the carpet, you were not wanting to be so close to him. Fingon gave great pause, but he still only kept his smile and was quick to respect the distance you had put between the two of you.

Surely it must be a shock to you, to see him standing here again, he reasoned with himself. Not wanting to distress you further,

"My darling, oh how I have missed you..." He breathed out staring at you warmly, his hands twitching to reach out to pull you into him and hold you close. You didn't miss the pull in your chest, trying to prompt you to get closer but how unwise it would be to try and share affections with a taken ellon. Even if he hadn't the same consideration for you,

"I have missed you as well Fingon..." You answered with uncertainty in your voice, eyes casting themselves to the floor. Such sweet words struck harshly in your chest when they did not mean the same thing. Fingon furrowed his brows with confusion, but the smile didn’t leave his face, wavering only a little.

"Then let me greet you properly my darling, we have been apart for far too long." His voice was gentle as he took a few steps closer yet he could see the apprehension on your face. It was then that you shook your head as you watched how he reached out to touch you, gripping your sides tighter as you shrugged your shoulders.

"Fingon... We both know that would be improper..." You whispered out looking to him for a moment, you didn't miss the confusion that crept on his face but you said nothing. Quietly you sighed, walking past him to take a seat on the white settee that was across from him.

"My darling Y/N... how could you possibly think that, that would be improper?" He asked in a soft and concerned voice rushing to sit next to you, unable to resist the pull to be with you. Fingon grabbed your hands pulling them in his lap, squeezing them snugly as to comfort you. 

He couldn't help but wonder what could possibly be going on that you would deny him affection. Fingon knew had been away for so long but not to the point where you’d deny even private hugs and kisses. That after all of this time apart that you wouldn't want to be with him. 

He began to worry that perhaps you found another, though he found that he couldn't be upset were that the case. All Fingon wanted for you was your happiness, even if it were not with him he could understand. Yes it would hurt but he cherished to see you so blissful.

"Fingon, how could it not be improper?” You asked him with surprise, looking down at your hands that were entwined together. You repressed a shudder as his thumbs lightly caressed the back of your hand,

“You have already wed and had a child with someone other than I! This is entirely unorthodox and down right scandalous!" You explained in exasperation, not understanding how he couldn't see it. With care you pulled your hands away from his leaving Fingon to sit on the soft settee in further confusion. 

There was a long and awkward moment between the two of you, Fingon frowning as he looked out the window. Trying to figure out where or what could have possibly given you that idea. 

Last he recalled he had made sure to leave with such a strong promise and grand gesture of his affections to ask you to marry him. But for you this silence confirmed everything that the other elves had warned you about, it was then Fingon moved to sit on his knees before you. 

Taking your hands in his again, before Fingon pressed soft kisses on your knuckles, Eru did you want to melt into such sweet affection. But you kept from doing so, refusing to be seen as the other woman! You loved Fingon but not enough to break bonds and vows!

"Fingon-" He shushed you softly,

"Listen to me, please Y/N..." He began patiently and in a soft and warm voice, prompting you look up from your lap and into his bright blue eyes. Ever was there patience there,

"There is no one other than you that has captured my heart." Fingon began to explain, watching the skeptical look that found your face. It only made him smile softly as he ran his finger over the silver engagement ring on your finger,

"You are the only one I would ever want to have a family with. I know not where you heard such things, but you are the only one for me. I swear this to you my darling, there is no one else, no one that I am bond too other than you through our engagement." There was no hurt in his voice, only understanding as your Fingon was always patient with you. He brought your soft hands up to his warm lips once more to kiss as his blue eyes gazed up at you.

Your brows furrowed together as you looked down at him unable to help the confound that filled you as you listened to him. While you were very relieved to know that he loved you and was swearing fidelity to you, it didn't explain why people thought Gil-Galad was his.

"Then why are others saying that Gil-Galad is your son..?" You whispered to him, Fingon sighed out before letting out a soft chuckle shaking his head. It was then he returned to his spot next to you, an arm wrapping around your shoulders as he kept you close to him.

"I think I have an idea of how that rumor came to be.” He began to chuckle shifting some to sit closer to you, his hand gently rubbing comforting circles onto your back.

“I had... the luxury of meeting Gil-Galad and Orodreth at one point in Beleriand. It had been a jest between Orodreth and I that Gil-Galad could be mistaken for my child. I had not realized that anyone had overheard it let alone had taken it so out of context." Fingon chuckled halfheartedly, you watched as a tinge of pink seemed to color his cheeks.

“I would have never imagined that it would’ve spread in the manner that it did, making it all the way back to the love of my life.” He laughed halfheartedly, your eyes widened some before you too began to snicker at his words. It seemed absolutely like the kind of predicament that Fingon could’ve gotten himself into, which only brought you amusement and intense relief. 

With a quiet snicker Fingon only pulled you in closer to his side, leaning his head against yours. Pressing a soft kiss to your temple he gave a gentle squeeze to comfort you.

“Fingon... I’m sorry, I should’ve known.” You sighed out, but Fingon only gave you another soft squeeze, but he waited patiently this time for you to speak further.

“It was all anyone talked about and as much as I tried, it was hard to ignore. So many elves were saying that he was yours...” You began to explain to him as you wrapped an arm around his waist, taking the time to breath him in and enjoy the warmth of his body next to yours. Another chuckle rumbled through his chest at your words, and his braids swayed as he shook his head.

“Worry not my darling. All is forgiven. I do not blame you for believing such a mass spread rumor.” Fingon whispered sweetly, kissing you again on your temple. You nodded at his words relieved to hear that all was well and that rumors had been squared away. 

“I love you.” You said to him with a smile as you looked up at him from your spot next to him, drawing a bright and warm smile from him. 

“And I you my darling.” He snickered softly, leaning forward to press a soft kiss to your lips. Drawing a soft smile of your own from the sweet gesture, just like that as quickly as it came did you feel the excitement bubble in him. Quickly he was beginning to pull away to stand, his hands tugging on yours to draw you to your feet.

“Come my darling! There are a few things I would like your help with.” Fingon said with a bright smile, beginning to pull you along across the room and to the gilded door before you both. 

“Fingon what could you possibly need help with already?” You asked furrowing your brows with a soft smile, he only smiled wider at your words,

“To plan our wedding of course!” He laughed,

“So soon?” You blurted out feeling a rush of excitement fill you at his words, Fingon only laughed again looking back at you,

“I think we have waited long enough! Now we have no time to waste.” He chuckled squeezing your hand gently as he pulled you out into the hallway. Happily did you let him pull you along, more than ready to get arrangements in order. There was no one else in all of Valinor or Arda that you would rather be wed too. 

* * *

tags:

@saviorsong​ @leonaorasa​ @oathandichor​

[lavellanlove]

🐬 Maleus

All that Glitters

Sylathi Lavellan ( @saphyremelodies​ ) and Maleus Abano(re: MerMay aquarium prompt) 

Calls on her work cell late at night were nevera good thing. 

At even the sharp buzz of her phone against herdresser, Sylathi sprung awake, using it as a light to dress. Was is that whalethat was due in a few weeks? She hoped not. The aquarium had heavily promotedthat new arrival, and should anything (gods forbid) go wrong, she didn’t likehaving to deal with bad press on top of her own mourning.

Listening on the drive over, Lahlas’ message wasvague, or perhaps just felt that way because she was tired. 

She tried to go in without expectations, andstill, this managed to defy them.

“Lahlas, that...is...a man. There is a grown manin my tank. Why is there a grown man in my tank?”

“The hospital didn’t have the...equipment needed.” Her boss pointed down the long, golden tail,made brighter by the glimmer of coins which had obviously been nestled betweenthe scales as a form of ornamentation. She barely had time to admire itsbeauty or ponder the implications when a tinge of bright red caught hereye, drawing her around to the other side with increased urgency andconcern. 

She gasped, clasping her hands over her mouthwhen she saw the damage: something had essentially torn half of his tail offlengthwise, taking one of the flukes with it and almost certainly damaging hisspine. 

“Surgery managed to sedate him for long enoughto stem the worst of the bleeding, but... he’ll never be able to swim again.”

Cautiously, she looked up at Lahlas, not likingwhere this was going. “Why did you call me here?” she asked, voicetrembling.

He gave her a soberlook, then sighed. “I don’t know what to do. By gods, I mean, he’s a person, but he can’t live away from the water and cantlive in it either. It seemed cruel to just keep him here suspended in a tank,so...

He wiped his face, clearly tortured by theweight of it given the uncharacteristic slump in his shoulders and the strainin his throat. “They were recommending we just...but I couldn’t bring myself todo it. Not if we could figure out any other way.”

She took in a deepbreath, the stakes steeling her resolve, then met Lahlas’ gaze. “I will find a way, or I will make one.”

“Don’t be scared,” she reassured, the merman (for lack of better word). He was just coming to after his anesthesia, restrained loosely in a shallow examination pool to prevent him from injuringhimself. “Do you...speak any human languages? I know a few...Common,Elvhen, a bit of Tevene...”

She spoke, and suddenly the man’s bright eyes,darting about in fear and confusion, rested squarely on her. “Did... wewin?” he asked.

Sylathi’s head cocked to the side. “Win?What are you talking about?” 

“The rebellion? Against the Terror of Rialto Bay? Did we win?”

She frowned sadly, trying to figure out if he was dreaming, or if she was. “I’m sorry, I don't know what you are talking about.”

His brow furrowed, and he took a moment to try to assess his surroundings. After a moment of clarity, he sighed, then seemed to be puzzling together another question to ask that might glean a more useful answer. “I know this is land, but how did I get here?” 

“The Coast Guard was called because someone spotted a man, you, floating in a mass of debris. They tried to seek medical treatment, but the hospital didn’t have tanks so they brought you here.”

‘Medical treatment’ seemed to spark something in him, because only then did he start checking himself, apparently not able to feel the injury.

“Careful, you’ve-” she started, but before she could finish he caught sight of it, letting out a horrible scream.

“Oh tides! Oh gods! My tail!” His hands frantically reached towards the missing side of his tail, tugging desperately against the restraints. He was sobbing between panicked breaths, experiencing his own tears for the first time in the open air. He tried to move, and then the second, more painful realization hit him: “Why can’t I move my tail?!”

Sylathi’s heart bled for him. Not being able to even tell him the cause, having no way to reach any family he had for support...

She didn’t even think before she removed the restraints, reaching down into the pool to give him a hug. She held him there, half underwater herself, and gradually she heard his arms lift out of the water and felt them hesitantly, then desperately, hugging her back.

Finding a way to help him - who she learned was called Maleus - soon occupied her every waking moment. She wrote every scientist in the adaptive tech field she knew, asking for assistance building a prosthetic that would meet his needs. She visited with him as often as she could, listening to his stories, amazed by all his travels and that he knew almost every language and legend in Thedas. When he felt up to it, they tried to work up his strength in the hopes of being able to test a prosthetic in open water.

Heartbreak after heartbreak, they tried and failed, the prosthetics incapable of restoring what was lost. And even if one could restore his ability to swim, a prosthetic could never make up for the loss of his pod, his family, his friends: all who had perished in the clash. He had no way to reach them, but he felt it in his bones. All this work, all this effort, just to go straight back to into the Talon’s clutches. 

Some days, he wondered if any of this was worth it. What he was even fighting for. But he was reminded again every time Sylathi returned. Her persistence, her tenderness, her unwavering kindness, eyes bluer than the bay and spirit brighter than all the treasure sunken within it. For her, he would keep at this. For her, he would succeed. For her effort, for her devotion, for saving his life...he could never fully repay that debt, but he felt he at least owed it to her to try.

It was over two years and thirty surgeries later that they finally discovered a breakthrough: lyrium-infused sylvan, crafted by dwarves and elves in collaboration, that would respond to one’s will like a real limb could. Sylathi brought him the news excitedly, though it was selfishly bittersweet, knowing this meant she might never see him again. 

He seemed elated, so she was happy for him. But she would miss his smile, that contagious laugh. His stories, his counsel, his friendship. Eating takeout food together every night, introducing him to TV shows and movies, their many inside jokes - day by day, he had become one of the most important people in her life.

She waited outside the recovery suite for word that he was ready for visitors, peeking her head in before entering. 

“So...how’s the new tail?” she asked, eager to see the fruits of all their hard work.

He met her eyes with an uncertainty that made her nervous. “Mal, what’s wrong?” She took his hand. Squeezed it. “Whatever it is, you can tell me.”

“There is no tail,” he finally said, looking away. “I’m so sorry. I thought I wanted it, I know you wanted it, and you worked so hard, but...I just couldn’t go through with it.”

“Don’t be,” Sylathi immediately reassured. She regarded the length under the blanket with confusion. “But I don’t understand...you still had surgery.”

He took a deep breath, mustering the will to look back up at her. “You said the sylvanwood could be shaped and enchanted to respond just like a real limb. But the more I thought about it, the more I realized that what I want isn’t to go back to the sea-”

He lifted the sheet, revealing two sylvanwood legs. He flexed and pointed the toes experimentally before turning to face her more fully. “It’s to be able to stay here. Build a life. Here with you.”

[beaflower77]

Perhaps Just An Ordinary Day Part 1

“The last of the bodies have been prepared and lay waiting,” Glorfindel stated, providing Elrond with an exact body count. “I have spoken with all the families. Lindir has a list of what needs they have.” Elrond nodded, “Good,” he gave, “Such a waste. Such a loss. These skirmishes are a thorn in my side. They should not be necessary in such a time.” And he paced the floor on the round. Glorfindel, however he agreed, but, “My Lord, diplomacy will only work if the other parties are diplomatic themselves. A force of hand is oftentimes needed if and when future diplomacy is considered and begged for.” Erestor watched, keeping an eye on the proceedings, counseling when necessary. Lindir stood waiting in contemplation. He was not one for such decisive and relentless confrontations of these kinds.

They had been preparing for the burial of the elves and human soldiers alike, who were fallen in a recent assault. Glorfindel providing names, summaries of particular elves, male and female soldiers, archers and their grieving families. Elrond would speak with them, do what was necessary to assist and care for their needs. He would also speak of course on their behalf, before laying them to rest. He should not have long to wait for Throndor, King of Eagles he pondered. He wondered would he see them again, the fallen elves, some his friends, this time or on another day? Lindir sat, readied his quill and ink for the exact outline for the various families and necessary recommendations. A funeral ceremony would have to be provided, music, musicians, choosing singers. He would have to take particular care of the precise songs, for some elves were not of this location. Such sadness, remorse, for death was such sorrow for elves. More on his plate to decide, debate and consider. The air about the four elves was controlled, hot, drawn and pensive. What more would today’s worry bring, Lindir wondered. They would not have to wait long to find out. 

A footfall thumped down the long archway. Worried, aghast, “My Lords,” the young and lone elf proclaimed, suddenly interrupting their conference, and thoughts, “The bodies! All of them! They are gone! They have been stolen,” and he stood there lost as to what to do. “What?!,” Glorfindel proclaimed with a boom striding forward, giving the messenger elf an exasperated stare.  Elrond soaking this information in, while turning to Erestor, his face drawn. “What do you mean, the bodies are gone?!,” and Elrond demanded an explanation. 

Hearing all, every last one of the dead were missing, no longer lay awaiting burial or claiming by families, the elves were beside themselves, enraged and frustrated. “I will go look Elrond. We will see what has befallen our comrades. Lindir! Come with me.” And Glorfindel marched down to the chamber of the resting dead to look. Lindir, worried and crestfallen, his anxiety rose. He was already emotionally exhausted this day, but fell in close step behind Glorfindel. Shaking his head, lost in contemplation as he quickly walked behind, Lindir worried. Thinking to himself, Again what else? “Paying bills is better than this mess,” he muffled. “Lindir!,” Glorfindel chided behind him. They continued in silence. 

Nothing. There were no elves. Absolutely no elves lay waiting for burial. The rangers were gone. No trace of their bodies either. No footprints, nothing. No forced entry, hasty retreat. Nothing. They just vanished. Guards assigned to keep watch were adamant, insisting they had not been derelict of duty. “No my Lords,” they maintained. “No one entered. No one left. We have stood our post unequivocally the entire time. We have not even left our post to eat this evening. We have not been careless with the men’s bodies either.” Glorfindel was angered, annoyed, infuriated. Not only had his soldiers, his elves, and other elves left in his charge died, but now their bodies were missing! Without any apparent suspect of wrong doing. And what of the mortal’s bodies? How would he account for them? To their families no less? To Elrond?

“Lindir!,” Enaria charged over in panic. “Lindir!,” she called again. They turned as Enaria ran pall mall toward them. “Come quick! It is Beatrice!” Turning, Lindir looked on Glorfindel a moment, turning back, “What is the matter?! What has befallen Beatrice this time?!” Giving no explanation, only Enaria’s face registered anxiety and disquiet. Lindir and Glorfindel trotted behind. What now? Beatrice was clumsy. As annoyed as Lindir was, he was also deeply troubled. Beatrice was indeed clumsy. And they had missing bodies to contend with besides.

They followed Enaria to the house of healing. Being harshly, tightly held by Huven’s arms round her torso, keeping her still. Beatrice’s eyes shutting out sudden pain to sorely exposed nerve endings, Huven’s right hand held Beatrice’s left hand in a strangled, vice like grip. Avorndis attended the wound. Lindir, striding in much too quickly was met by Avorndis as she calmly but firmly commanded, “Lindir. Get out,” and she sterilized, took heated tongs and carefully, so carefully touched the tip of the searing white hot tongs to the tip of Beatrice’s cut finger, while Beatrice emit a scream of pain from her mouth, and a sudden flash of faintness. The room spun and closed in on her. As Lindir stood there, in utter shock, watching Beatrice scream, he and Glorfindel took in the large amounts of blood that had splashed over, soaking the bodice of her dress, her hand, dripping down her sleeve and arm. “Get out Lindir,” again Avorndis more firmly demanded, and placed the tongs on the side counter. She then shoved him out, closed the door, but not before giving him a look of concern. As the door closed, Lindir saw Huven gently lay Beatrice down on a flatbed. She was unconscious.

And Lindir stood there in jarring fright and astonishment as the door was closed and locked before him. “We were chopping carrots in the kitchen,” Enaria quietly explained in hushed tones, her hand covering her mouth, explaining as if it were her own fault. “She was laughing. She was just laughing. Beatrice was laughing one minute and the next, there was a look of panic and pain on her face. I did not understand at first. Then I saw the blood, so much blood Lindir. Beatrice accidentally sliced off the tip of her finger. Huven grabbed her as quickly as he could, but the bleeding wouldn’t stop.” Opening the handkerchief, Enaria showed Lindir and Glorfindel the tip of Beatrice’s finger. It was just a little tip, just a little, so very little, tiny even, but still, if Avorndis didn’t close the wound quick enough. “She might lose the nail,” Lindir surmised. “Eru,” whispered from his lips. And Lindir closed his eyes in pain and regard. 

“Dammit. What more today?,” Glorfindel questioned the air. And the answer came in the form of a loud clap of thunder. Then the rainstorm began in earnest. “Mandos’ balls!,” again exclaimed Glorfindel. “Where are those damned bodies?!”

Huven came out from the room wiping his hands with a clean cloth. Upon seeing Lindir, a distressed, injured look on his face, “Beatrice will be alright. Do not worry Lindir. It was only a small cut.” And he gave Lindir a small, reassuring smile, but a worried smile concealed underneath as well. “What happened?!,” asked, demanded Lindir, itching to go to Beatrice and see for himself. “A small kitchen injury,” Huven stated, leaving out Beatrice’s apparent screwing around this time. “A small kitchen injury?!,” Lindir repeated incredulously. “You call that small?! Beatrice is clumsy Huven! How did this happen?! Was no one watching her? She is clumsly.” Huven could give no account, for he had not actually seen it happen, being on the other side of the kitchen. “I was not there watching her every movement my Lord,” Huven addressed Lindir with reverence, and bowed in chosen submission.

Turning from Huven, Lindir went to attend Beatrice. “It was my fault Lindir!,” cried Enaria, her heart, face constricting in pain, as Lindir turned his head slightly over his shoulder. “I distracted Beatrice. Master Huven was with Raimen. On the other side of the kitchen. I was making Beatrice laugh. It was my fault.” And Enaria waited, but there was nothing more to be said. “I am so sorry my Lord,” and she addressed him thus, rather than as a common friend. Lindir heard his title spoken. Heard her plea. Still he made no mention of their friendship. Lindir stepped in the room. And Beatrice, raising her body from the bed, her head from where it had lain on her arms, tears in her eyes, looked up at Lindir with a pale, embarrassed face. Staring at Beatrice for a heartbeat and two more, “I forbid you to go back to the kitchens,” was the first words he uttered before realizing he even said it. And knelt beside her attending her wound and emotional injury.

The rains did not stop. It sluiced and jetted down in torrents. It poured, it thundered, lightning flashed across the sky and a thick, voluminous fog rolled in the valley for weeks. Pea soup settled and all that came with it lay and dwelt over the elves with anxious restlessness. The elves that had died, some returned, wandering in the valley as if in questioning their surroundings and returned lives. They were immediately taken in, loved and cherished. Those that did not return, were mourned all the more. The rangers, footmen, the archers, their bodies still missing, gave the elves worry, heartache and apprehension. Where were they? And had someone stolen them? How could it be possible? The elves could give no accounting for the missing bodies to their families as yet. Or themselves. The mortals were besides themselves with upset. It was an upsetting mystery that held no explanation. 

“My Lord Elrond.” gave Glorfindel late last night. “We have discovered the source of our intransigent dilemma.” “Do not keep us in suspense Glorfindel,” Elrond evenly demanded of his main elven warrior, rising from his chair. Glorfindel produced an empty, black box. Its’ lid and lock, busted, pried open. “It is gone. Stolen Elrond.” And the content of the mysterious box proved correct. Empty. As Elrond stared, “Find it!,” he commanded, implored. “Whoever touches it, whomever has stolen it, will wish they had never set eyes before it!” 

Erestor stood from his comfortable chair, amazement dazzled his eyes. “You must find it Glorfindel, or we will all suffer consequences.” Turning to Elrond, Erestor implored of him, “The content of that box must be destroyed once and for all Elrond. No more hiding it in secret. It is time for its’ destruction now.” and Erestor knew there was no returning from this decision. Elrond gave Glorfindel to task. “Find it. Destroy it.”

Elrond and Erestor had the look of bewilderment, confusion, anger and torment written on their faces. They knew the story the content of the box’s stolen object contained and represented. Even elven magic might not be enough to ward off an abominable and base corruption as this. 

[ivanaskye]

hey I’ll continue posting my lotr liveblogs soon but I ALSO just started reading children of hurin and I’m dying

So I open this book and the first thing I see. “It is undeniable that there are a very great many readers of The Lord of the Rings for whom the legends of the Elder Days (as previously published in varying forms in The Silmarillion, Unfinished Tales, and The History of Middle-earth) are altogether unknown,” oh, oh honey, ahahahahahaha.

Hey stop mentioning other things I need to read (eg bolt). Stop, stop, I ALREADY HAVE A PROBLEM-

THERES A BIGGER FALL OF GONDOLIN,?

And yet I STILL cannot care one bit about beren and luthien. Sorry.

Ah yes, a forward AND an introduction. Classic

Time UNIMAGINABLY REMOTE... ohhh boy do I have bad news for u........ pls.... I’m the girl who’s used to thinking about 4.5billion years of /irl/ earth.... the first age is nothing...

Oh right Thingol’s gonna be in this book hhhhhhh ugh

WOO onto the book proper!

Ok gloredhel sounds SO SINDARIN... omg does house of hador speak sindarin.... ;-; FEELINGS.

Wait. WIAT. Waaaaaaait. TURIN AND TUOR ARE COUSINS. I. Um. How did I not knOW-

Also hurin short

Morgen was sOMEWHAT STERN OF MOOD AND PROUD. Mhmm. JUST SOMEWHAT.

Aaaaa Men ;-;. As w Rohan in rotk, I love these Men sooooo much more when I don’t feel pressured to identify as actually OF their kind

“There Turgon the King received them well, when he learned of their kin; for Hador was an Elf-friend, and Ulmo, moreover, had counselled Turgon to deal kindly with the sons of that House, from whom help should come to him at need.” Ulmo u are trying but Tuor still gets denied. Also how’d I lowkey forget these two saw Gondolin.

Maeglin stahp.

TURIN INHERITED MORWEN’S GOTH GENE

“when he returned his quick speech, full of strange words and jests and half-meanings, bewildered Túrin and made him uneasy.” This just in Turin is autistic and hurin is allistic I don’t make the rules,

“‘Fair as an Elf-child is Lalaith,’ said Húrin to Morwen; ‘but briefer, alas! And so fairer, maybe, or dearer.’” Kill m e,

....

The entire passage with Turin finding out Lalaith is dead is just. MORWEN. Morwen have u ever chilled even Once.

“‘Because Urwen is dead, and laughter is stilled in this house,’ she answered. ‘But you live, son of Morwen; and so does the Enemy who has done this to us.’”

MORWEN CALLS HIM SON OF MORWEN. Does she have drama in her veins instead f blood

“Húrin mourned openly, and he took up his harp and would make a song of lamentation; but he could not, and he broke his harp, and going out he lifted up his hand towards the North, crying: ‘Marrer of Middle-earth, would that I might see you face to face, and mar you as my lord Fingolfin did!’”

In which we find that Morwen did not take ALL the Extra in this book, there is plenty left to share. Also wait he served Fingolfin but right before he died???

Ok just everything abt the Men - who being mortal have more to lose - fighting for the elves gives me feelings

You can just FEEL the intense Second Kindred-ness on every page

THEN TURIN ASKED TO HIM, WHAT IS FATE.

I just. This family could actually compete with the Kholins on Extra-ness and THAT IS SAYING SOMETHING.

One chapter in and there’s already Mortality Discourse and I’m screaming aloud omfg

“From wounds /and griefs/ that would slay Men they may be healed;” This is. Relevant. The holding of joy closer than sorrow, to temper it....

Just. Hit home that this is like... the freakin... third, fourth generation of Edain? They so young.....

“My father is not afraid, and I will not be; or at least, as my mother, I will be afraid and not show it.’” CHECK OUT THIS BURN ON MORWEN FOLKS

AND HE WISHES HE WAS ONE OF THE ELDAR AND /FOR THAT REASON/ WANTS TO MEET THEM. Out of. Wishing. And jealousy. DRAGS HANDS DOWN OVER FACE. Reading this book is not a quiet affair.

“‘They are a fair folk and wonderful, and they have a power over the hearts of Men. And yet I think sometimes that it might have been better if we had never met them, but had walked in lowlier ways. For already they are ancient in knowledge; and they are proud and enduring. In their light we are dimmed, or we burn with too quick a flame, and the weight of our doom lies the heavier on us.’”

LIES DOWN, D I E S.

“in the year that cannot be forgotten.” Oh look the narrator is super extra too

MORWEN IS SUCH A. Such a force to be reckoned with tbh.

Wait is that THAT sword. Already???

Oh it’s not but there is foreshadowing.

An elf: is mentioned

Me: MY CHILD

Aaaa it’s so cool to see Fingon and everyone told in full prose ;-;

YEAAAA TURGON!

Wait this is quenya. Hasn’t Thingol already outlawed quenya or

I can barely read the word Angband without thinking. Angbang.

Aaaaa that classic. Bring out prisoners and mess w them mood.

BY THE TREACHERY OF MEN THE FIELD WAS LOST. /This/ is what that lyric is referencing? I think.

Ow Fingon sure dies graphically.

A NEW STAR SHALL ARISE this is definitely where these lyrics come from.

[empresstress13]

Loghain 4 and Dog 1

OK! I meant to answer these awhile ago but it didn’t happen, sorry! XD

You didn’t specify OC… .so you’re getting everyone!

Loghain1. Did your Warden respect Loghain’s experience as a warrior, if not as a ruler?

Kyria Cousland: Kyria knew the stories of Loghain’s heroics during the war with Orlais well. She’s a proud Ferelden, and had quite a bit of respect for his history and experience as a warrior and is upset and a bit disturbed to see his recent actions. 

Nehnara Surana: So in my personal canon Surana was from the Denerim Alienage and was older (early teens) when she went to the Circle. She was already pissed off to start with at Ostagar, and everything going tits up and having assassination attempts didn’t help.The line between “alright person” and “piece of shit” is a very thin one for Nehnara. Seeing what was happening in both the Circle and Denerim Alienage though: Nehnara has no respect for him.   

Beatrix Tabris: No. Tabris doesn’t really care about the political backstabbing of the nobles - it tends to generally always be shit for those in the Alienage. While unfortunately never surprised by it, she’s also never particularly forgiving of people going after anyone who is defenseless, and in particular her community or any elves. 

Elraen Mahariel: Elraen isn’t very familiar with Loghain’s history to start with and her experiences with him have been rather negative, so very limited amount of respect.

Syndis Brosca: Syndis could respect Loghain as a warrior, but has real trouble understanding his choices. 

Alyn Amell: She has heard of Loghain, and knows that theoretically he was once a proud son of Ferelden. She’s saddened to see how far a great man can fall. 

2. How did your Warden react to Loghain’s fierce love for his daughter? Did they share a strong sense of loyalty to their own family?

Kyria Cousland: It hurt in all honesty. Kyria was very close to her family, and to her father in particular. Kyria feels for Anora and Loghain, but believes that dishonorable crimes should not go unpunished. 

Nehnara Surana: Nehnara’s father was killed in front of her as well. It’s unfortunate that another daughter has to see her father die, but tragedy is deeply embedded into life as far as Nehnara can tell. Nehnara isn’t surprised that Loghain loves his daughter, but it doesn’t particularly change how she feels about him. Nehnara was very close to her father, and to her friends before being taken to the Circle. 

Beatrix Tabris: Oh? Loghain loves his daughter? Oh wonderful for him! Beatrix does have strong loyalty to her own family. Like her own father. Who almost ended up enslaved and sent to Tevinter. Huh. Wonder how many families got torn apart by that. (*heavy sarcasm*)

Elraen Mahariel: I mean he’s a person and a father, so it’s not too surprising to her. She feels a  bit better about him as a person to know that he has some positive traits but unfortunately for him and Anora, it doesn’t change how she feels about him overall. She wishes that Loghain had thought more on his daughter and her counsel before this whole mess started. Elraen was quite loyal to her family and community.

Syndis Brosca: Syndis didn’t particularly have close relationships with either of her parents, but she is very close with Rica. The way she sees it is: jerks still have families and loved ones. It’s not particularly surprising.

Alyn Amell: Alyn was touched to see the affection between father and daughter. She never had that with any of her family, but wishes she did. 

3. What did your Warden think of Loghain’s suspicion and dislike of Orlesians? Did they consider it to be ill-founded or accurate? 

Kyria Cousland: She wasn’t alive for the war with Orlais, but she is a proud daughter of Fereleden and knows history well enough to have a fair amount of reservations about Orlesians. Nowhere near the level of Loghain’s dislike but a fair amount of suspicion for Orlais. She does think that Loghain let his hatred control him. 

Nehnara Surana: She knows that the Chantry is based in Orlais AND has heard some rather questionable things about the place on several different levels. She’s also heard they do great pastries and cakes. To sum it up: hell yeah she’s suspicious of them, but she’s suspicious of a lot of people. Including Logain. So probably accurate, but also probably taken way too far. 

Beatrix Tabris: Has never been to Orlais. Has heard both shit things and lovely things (mainly from Leliana). She’s sure there are some assholes in Orlais - there are certainly a fair few in Ferelden. Isn’t sure if it’s been worth all this other chaos though. 

Elraen Mahariel: Human nation-states aren’t high on Elraen’s “trust” list quite frankly. She does think there *has* to have been a better and more direct way to deal with this.

Syndis Brosca: All politicians are suspicious and should probably be disliked? That’s at least Syndis’ veiw based off Orzammar politics. The Orlesians are probably fuckers. Loghain is a bit of a fucker. None of them should probably be trusted. 

Alyn Amell: From what she’s heard of Orlais it doesn’t exactly seem to be ill-founded, but she isn’t sure if carrying around that level of hatred is particularly healthy. 

4. What was your Warden’s opinion on Loghain’s decision to abandon King Cailan and the Grey Wardens at Ostagar? What did they think of Loghain afterwards?

Kyria Cousland: Seeing Loghain’s betrayal of King Cailan so shortly after Howe’s betrayal of her family is hugely shocking to Kyria. She has trouble accepting how ill supposedly noble and brave men behave. She is upset at the deaths of King Cailan and Duncan. 

Nehnara Surana: She wasn’t particularly happy about it - seemed a bit of a “out of the frying pan and into the fire” situation for her. She isn’t so surprised by betrayal in general… though from someone so close to the royal family is a bit more shocking. She’s pretty pissed off at Loghain. Finally gets out of the Circle for everything to go to shit … 

Beatrix Tabris: Bea was still pretty upset and angry over everything that happened on her wedding day. She was glad to not be in prison and awaiting execution, and King Cailan didn’t seem horrible as far as human nobles go… then again neither did Loghain and that didn’t turn out so well. Duncan really did seem pretty alright overall - if a bit secretive - and she’s kind of saddened at his passing. 

Elraen Mahariel: She’s surrounded by humans and within 24 hours everything goes tits up. This is not encouraging her view on human governance. Loghain seemed like a pretty straight forward fellow to her…? Guess that’s out…  

Syndis Brosca: Important people kill other important people? Shocking. 

Alyn Amell: Alyn is pretty distressed that the first battle she’s involved in has such high loses and betrayal. For such betrayal to occur so close to the throne is horrible, and she’s very anxious.

5. Did Loghain survive the Landsmeet? If he did, why did your Warden choose to let him live?

Kyria Cousland: Nope! Kyria might have considered it having Loghain join the Grey Wardens as a sort of repayment for his crimes, but Alistair was against it… and Kyria is very much in love with Alistair. 

Nehnara Surana: No. 

Beatrix Tabris: No. 

Elraen Mahariel: Elraen doesn’t hate Loghain as much as Alistair, but going into a terrifying battle she would prefer to have people she trusts at her back. She doesn’t trust Loghain. 

Syndis Brosca: Yes - she doesn’t think much of his ability to rule (he was defeated by her motley crew after all) but apparently he is a skilled warrior. Dying would be easy for him - working off his punishment is harder.  

Alyn Amell: She would have been tempted to make him a Grey Warden, but Alistair was against it, and he is very dear to her. 

Dog

1. Who’s a good boy?!

MY MABARI IN EVERY VERSION IS THE PERFECT DOGGY.

[but-the-library-of-alexandria]

30 Day Flash Fiction Challenge - Day 27

I made it another day! This was a long one too, but luckily this is an existing piece of mythology from a fantasy story I’m not working on. For the sake of now, imagine this to be set in a lotr/dragon age-type fantasy world. Charlie and Linnea are soldiers, one human, one an elf. 

Day 27: story sandwich

Charlie woke up far earlier than he usually did. It was bizarre. The world looked different at this hour. He could see the sunrise from the opening of his tent. It was beautiful. It was cold. What an odd time of day. Unnatural. He shouldn't be conscious for this. His human gaze was profaning this inhuman world, this place of mystery and transition.

He checked the time. It was eight forty five.

As he emerged he saw Linnea pass by the dead campfire. She looked surprised to see him.

“Morning, sweetie,” she said. “I didn't make tea yet, sorry.”

“It's okay. Is there something off about you?”

She frowned. “No. I don't think so. Why?”

“You look different. Are you sick?”

She turned towards the mirror that was sitting on a log bench near the fire, rubbing lotion into her face. “Well sweetie, you aren't usually awake this early. I haven't put on my makeup yet.”

“You wear makeup?”

Other people were beginning to pass by, the camp coming alive with activity.

“Of course I do. You thought I looked like that naturally?”

“I guess.”

“You're too nice, Lin,” a passing soldier commented, stopping mid-hair-tying to use Linnea’s mirror. “I would have slapped him for saying I looked sick without makeup.”

“My heart is full of love and empathy,” Linnea replied. “Just like my namesake.”

“Who are you named after?” Another nearby soldier asked.

“Linnea,” Linnea replied.

“And who is that?”

“She was the… ah, I'm not sure there's a word for it in your language. It's sort of like a goddess, but they were a real person? Like a… a saint, is that what you say? Somewhere between a saint and a goddess. And she… ah, I don't know how to explain! She resides over a certain thing…?”

“Like a patron saint,” a soldier suggested.

“Yes. The patron saint or the patron goddess of love. She famously fell in love with a human. It's a lovely story.”

The kettle boiled. Charlie decided to repay her daily favour of making tea for him and poured a cup for her.

“So tell the story,” he promoted. By now, several soldier were listening: they added their voices of encouragement to his.

“Alright,” Linnea said, sitting down and settling. “Gather around if you want to hear.”

“Millennia ago, in the days when our people were at their greatest and most powerful, there was born into a proud tribe deep in the south forest a beautiful baby girl. Her parents named her Linnea, after the flower the people call Twinflower - for it was evident for a young age that her particular gift was the gift of empathy.

“Linnea felt the emotions of everyone around her as if they were her own. She would be filled with joy on the morning of a stranger’s wedding, and weep when the woman next door was broken hearted. She would fail to sleep for nerves on the evening before the novices had their exams, and laugh at joke told across the town. She was vastly useful to her people - she would seek out and counsel those who were miserable in silence, she would alert authorities of hunting accidents and unexpected childbirth the moment it happened, long before messengers arrived, and she could match a couple who were quietly in love when their own courage failed them.

“Years passed, thousands of years. Ages came and went. Communities rose and fell. Linnea and her people, touched by the blessings of magic, remained unweathered and unchanged. And eventually, man came to the forest. They built a great city on the edge of the forest, and the city grew and grew until their leader had grown from chief to lord to duke to king.

“Tensions began to rise between the two civilisations. The king finally agreed that the forest should be the property of the elves, and that the humans would not disturb them as long as they lived there. And so, an uneasy peace was forged. Until the stocks of prey in the forest began to fall.

“One day on the edge of the forest, Linnea was walking when she sensed the feelings of a human nearby. She turned to see a human poacher taking a deer from the elves’ land.

“‘What, stranger!’ She cried. ‘You dare to steal prey that is not yours to kill?’”

“The poacher turned to see her. ‘My fair lady,’ he replied, ‘please forgive my impertinence. Our people are suffering from a great famine. Our people are starving, and my father is sick. My siblings are so busy taking care of him that I am the only person able to provide food for our family, and the other families who likewise need my help. Understand I would never profane your rightful territory if lives were not at stake.’

“The Lady Linnea could feel his honesty, his genuine desperation and charitable drive as if it were her own. She almost went to feel the despair of his people. ‘Take your prey and go,’ she said. ‘Tomorrow, may your leader come to the citadel to meet with our people's leader. Perhaps we can offer you some allowances.’

“The poacher thanked her and left. Linnea returned home, and told the tale to her father, the elves’ king.

“‘What gives you the right to invite a human to our inner sanctum?’ He admonished, and Linnea summoned all her powers of emotive persuasion to represent the plight of the humans and the honesty of the poacher’s intentions until he agreed to meet their leader. Lady Linnea went to sleep with the heart and the face of the poacher haunting her vision as she closed her eyes.

“The next day, the prince of the humans came to meet the king of the elves in the place of their sick king. Linnea was surprised to recognise the poacher himself, his clothes no more fine than before, with only a slim circlet and a well-bred horse to mark his rank. After discussions with the king of the elves, he and his people were granted permission to hunt in the forest. The two civilisations agreed to an alliance of sorts, and the prince agreed to act as ambassador, visiting the elves regularly with reports on their activity in the forest. Before he left for home, he visited Linnea. She was overjoyed to see him under such excellent circumstances, and she could feel his own gladness and relief in her head as well. He thanked her for making his people's salvation possible, and promised with a kiss of her hand to see her again, and to repay her kindness however he could.

“Time passed and things improved for the humans. The prince, as ambassador, came at first to the citadel every two weeks. He would meet with the king, and then went to attend Lady Linnea as well. Before long, he was coming once a week, then twice a week, and eventually he was coming to see Linnea every day. And over the course of the year, the two fell deeply in love.

“The only thing preventing Linnea from being perfectly, blissfully happy was that their love was secret from her father. Before long, the prince asked Linnea to marry him, and got only tears in response.

“‘My father may never consent to such a union,’ Linnea grieved. ‘And I cannot imagine, my love, that yours would either.’

“‘What my father thinks is irrelevant,’ the prince stated courageously. ‘I love you more than the sun loves the sky, and I will marry you. The only person who can refuse me is yourself.’

“Linnea asked for a day, to approach her father. She could sense his worry, but he agreed.

“That evening, Linnea went to her father. Sensing that he was in a good mood, and his goodwill towards the worthy prince, she confessed the truth and asked for his approval to marry.

“‘My daughter,’ he replied solemnly. ‘What you choose is not up to me, but I ask you consider carefully. This action has consequences you may not yet know.’

“‘What consequences?’ Linnea asked.

“‘My daughter, you have failed to consider that the man you love is mortal. His life will pass in the blinking of an eye, and you will suffer on, alone and broken hearted. How do you imagine he will feel, growing old and ugly and infirm while you remain untouched by the ravishes of time?’

“‘He will never be ugly to me,’ Linnea swore.

“‘He will be ugly in his own eyes. He will resent your beauty, your eternal youth, the millennia you will live after her is gone. He will devote all his life to you, while you only devote a tiny portion of yours to him, and no exchange so unfair can ever lead to a union of equality and trust. Resentment and imbalance will fester until your love is poisoned forever. Only if you sacrificed thousands of years of your own life can you ever hope to be truly bound to this human.’

“‘A single year of misery and poverty beside him as his wife would be more joy to me than a hundred thousand otherwise happy years without him,’ Linnea declared. ‘I shall sacrifice immortality for love, if you will promise me your support as my father.’

“‘If you so decide, I shall. But be wary! Ask yourself, is this human worth such a grave sacrifice? If he proves to be untrustworthy or untrue, if he hurts you or fails to please you, then the sacrifice you have made cannot be undone, and you will never again be the woman you once were, never again be one of us. I ask you, if you value yourself, consider: is this man worth giving so much of yourself up for?’”

“Lady Linnea went to bed disturbed and confused. All night her mind was haunted with the questions her father had put to her. Could she be sure enough of the prince’s eternal love that she would maim herself for life to marry him? Was she sure this marriage would be worth it? Was there nothing else in the world she valued more? The next morning, the prince came again, full of hope and anticipation to hear Linnea’s answer.

“‘My love,’ Linnea said. ‘For us to be married, I would have to sacrifice my immortality forever, and so I must ask for some proof of your eternal love and devotion. How can I be sure you will dedicate all our years together to making me happy? How can you assure me we will live together in love for the entirety of a mortal life?’

“To Linnea’s surprise, she felt anger surge in the prince’s heart.

“‘My dear lady,’ he replied, ‘I understand the solemnity of the decision you must make, and I respect the fact that you are feeling uneasy about it, but you wrong me, you gravely wrong me in asking for proof of my love! I have told you what I know - that I love you, that I want to marry you, that I want to share my life with you and make you happy. But I will not demean myself to grovel for your love, to jump through hoops to prove myself. If you do not trust in my words, then you should not marry me at all. So consider, Linnea - trust in my love, or do not patronise me with your faithless love any more.’ And with that, he left for home, leaving Linnea tearful and full of remorse.

“Linnea considered now. Did she really not trust her prince? Was there really any proving that his heart would forever be true, any telling what the future would bring? She realised that he was right to insist upon blind faith, for not only was it the greatest proof of love they could ever share, it was all they had. And, most of all, she realised that his anger, which at first had been so hateful to her, was the very thing that convinced her of his trustworthiness - for where another man may have pandered to her will, he was not afraid to be honest, to say what was right to say, and to stand up for himself. His very willingness to let her go if she did not feel the way she should convinced her that she could trust him to be truthful and to place her happiness above all.

“The next day, Linnea trusted that her angry lover would return to her. Trust, she now understood, was all she had. And she was right. He came to see her at midday.

“‘My love, forgive me,’ Linnea cried, throwing her arms around him. ‘I understand now. I trust you. I love you. And I will marry you, and we will be happy.’

“And the prince smiled, and his joy mingled with her own in her heart. So Linnea gave up her immortality, and lived a mortal life full of love and joy with her beloved human prince.

“And so to this day,” Linnea the younger said to the enraptured soldiers, “Lady Linnea is our patron of love. Not just for what she sacrificed in the name of love, but for the understanding of it she taught us. Love can never be proven, only trusted in. And you should always be able to trust the one you love to be honest and do what is right, whatever that may mean for either of you.”

“It's very different from our stories of love,” Charlie told her softly.

She smiled a brilliant smile. “Then evidently you have learned an important lesson this morning. Are you not glad you got up early now?”

[garden-ghoul]

I can’t believe it’s not the Shibboleth of Fëanor

“starting early out of fear that another farcical thing will prevent me from reading the shibboleth”

Chris’ notes on the shibboleth begin by saying that he has left out a huge number of phonology notes, which I sort of resent although I wouldn’t have read them anyway. Look Chris, if someone has made it here they’re probably enough of a linguistics nerd that they could get SOMETHING out of those. Don’t be a wimp.

Wait, did the exiled Noldor all speak Sindarin while they were in Beleriand? Like all of them? Maybe this shibboleth essay will clarify what the difference actually is between Quenya and Sindarin--I was under the impression that the latter was a language specifically invented and spoken by the green elves in Ossiriand, although I don’t know whether I ever had a reason for thinking that. “In any case, it is impossible to believe that any of the Noldor ever became unfamiliar with the sound þ,” Tolkien assures us. He then goes on to imply that this is ONLY because the Vanyar and Teleri still remembered what þ was. 

Anyway, let’s look at how it went down. Feanor was one of the chief linguistic loremasters (!) at the time. This guy is such an obnoxious polymath. He really does have a tiny hammer for the metaphors. Tolkien mentions that his mom Miriel has Very Good Enunciation and is also ridiculously good at embroidery. I’m not sure whether that second one will be relevant, but she is very adamant on continuing to use þ rather than s because that’s how it was when she was a kid. And she makes her whole family use þ too, at the very least when pronouncing her name (Þerinde, or needlewoman)

Feanor loved his mother dearly, though except in obstinacy their characters were widely different.

Ugh. I’m 100% sold on Feanor and Miriel now. This is the cutest shit. I also want to register how glad I am that elves have milk names. I’m wondering what culture Tolkien got that from, because he only really seemed to be into Germanic and Celtic cultures and I haven’t heard anything about that there? omg here’s an even better quote about them:

While she lived she did much with gentle counsel to soften and restrain Feanor. Her death was a lasting grief to him, and both directly and by its further consequences a main cause of his later disastrous influence on the history of the Noldor.

Word of the author says if Miriel had been around Feanor wouldn’t have done so much stupid shit. Should have! thought about what his mom would say! instead of killing hundreds of people at Alqualonde huh!!

Miriel cites the birth of Feanor as the cause of the weariness that made her want to be dead. She assures him that it’s because he’s just too great, but that’s still got to hurt. Having your mom publicly acknowledge that she invented death because she was so tired of you she wanted to die. Holy fuck!

The Valar are ultra dismayed by this, because they keep asking her when she’ll come back to her body and she keeps going “leave me alone!!” and Not Actually Wanting To Be Alive is the one and only disease they can’t heal! Also Finwe is depressed now. The Valar panic. While Finwe is just walking all over Aman because he’s too depressed to stay in one place he walks into Indis, a local(ish) Vanya, and realizes she has had a crush on him for centuries. The process of deciding that they want to get married is handwaved in 5 words, and they go ask the Valar if it’s actually okay. The Valar think leaving Finwe to mourn forever is cruel and letting him get married again is illegal. Y’all. who made the laws. Who made them? Was it you, Manwe?

Since this has nothing whatsoever to do with linguistics anyway I’m going to interject my own thing about the Athrabeth. Andreth made the point that if the fea and hroa aren’t united by love, the body is like a chain. Obviously Miriel’s fea and hroa are not united, and she perceives her son as a chain of duty keeping her on Arda! She has the depression, just like every human, but everyone is super confused by this because depression was supposed to be invented for humans a long time from now. That is--the Eldar were not supposed to be able to “get tired of things.” This is addressed by Andreth’s “grown-up children” comment; elf psychology is fundamentally different from human psychology. What this means is that Miriel invented being mentally ill, I guess. “Just try yoga!” everyone told her, but she insisted on staying dead. Truly a hero of our time.

While I was sidetracked, the Valar made a ruling that Miriel can never ever return to her body now, even if she gets un-depressed. This is another one of those bewildering Catholic things, I guess, where it seems more just to condemn someone to death than to allow a divorce. Or like, their godly DNA was just written too Catholic for them to be able to understand the concept. Anyway Feanor blames Indis for taking his mother away Forever, even though he should really be blaming Manwe, and instantiates a Grudge against her and her children.

Into the strife and confusion of loyalties in that time this seemingly trivial matter, the change of þ to s, was caught up to its embitterment, and to lasting detriment to the Quenya tongue. Had peace been maintained there can be no doubt that the advice of Feanor, with which all the other loremasters privately or openly agreed, would have prevailed. But an opinion in which he was certainly right was rejected because of the follies and evil deeds into which he was later led. He made it a personal matter: he and his sons adhered to þ, and they demanded that all those who were sincere in their support should do the same. Therefore those who resented his arrogance, and still more those whose support later turned to hatred, rejected his shibboleth.

This is really funny to me? Like he was such an asshole that everyone started using s just to spite him. Even Indis of the Vanyar (a þ people if there ever was one) started using s!! It’s like she was trying to aggravate him! No, actually, literally all the Noldor were using s at this point, and Indis just wanted Finwe to like her. When in Rome, et c. Feanor not only thought this was a personal slight toward his mother, he also thought it was a PLOT of the Valar, inspired by ‘fear of his powers’ to ‘oust him from leadership of the Noldor.’ Holy fuck, man, I don’t even know what to do with you. Nobody would care if you didn’t make such a big deal out of it. This is some curse of the Uchiha bullshit right here, he’s just making up reaþons to be mad bc of Loþt Love.

So Feanor tells all his kids that they are better than everyone elþe because they use þ. Now I have to wonder about Nerdanel and how that courtship went. Preþumably he told her she had to þtart uþing hiþ shibboleth or elþe they couldn’t get married.

Oh, look! A bit about Galadriel! She is considered the greatest of the Noldor, which is pretty great, and also understandable considering she is the only one who didn’t get herself killed for a stupid reason. She is the tallest person, like, ever and “a match for both the loremasters and the athletes of the Eldar.” Also her hair was so messy that the light of Telperion and Laurelin got caught in it, unfortunate. Feanor was so astonished by the idea of being able to catch the light of the Trees that he kept bothering her for “a tress” (isn’t that like, a lot of hair?). No sorry he must have asked for a treþþ.

From her earliest years she had a marvellous gift of insight into the minds of others, but judged them with mercy and understanding, and she withheld her goodwill from none save only Feanor.

She ended up following Feanor to Beleriand primarily so she could thwart him at every turn, I love her. She is also too proud to ever renounce her exile and return to Valinor... for like seven thousand years. By the end of the Third Age she was wise enough, finally, to go back. We jump back to when she was just a baby to note that even though her father Finarfin used þ since he hung out with the Teleri all the time and she was therefore raised in a þ household, Galadriel hated Feanor so much that she used s anyway.

After this there are some notes on  names! Answers a question that always made me roll my eyes, “why does everyone’s names sound the same??” Elda kids were given a father name at birth that sounded like their dad’s name, and later were given a mother name that described their character because all moms are prophets. What the fuck. They might also get an after name that describes some characteristic or accomplishment, as well as potentially a self name if they just want something cooler (stares at Turin).

The 'true names' remained the first two, but in later song and history any of the four might become the name generally used and recognized. The true names were not however forgotten by the scribes and loremasters or the poets, and they might often be introduced without comment. To this difficulty - as it proved to those who in later days tried to use and adapt Elvish traditions of the First Age as a background to the legends of their own heroes of that time and their descendants - was added the alteration of the Quenya names of the Noldor, after their settlement in Beleriand and adoption of the Sindarin tongue.

I know this difficulty well, as a guy who has read some fanfiction. Introduced  without comment indeed.

We ALSO get an answer to the Finwe/Olwe/Ingwe/Elwe question! That suffix derives from ewe, meaning person. So they were Hair Person, ??? Person, Top/Chief Person, and Star person. Except no those are just speculations, and probably the Eldar didn’t all have to have “meaningful” names, which I like. aaahahahaha also the reason they came up with Sindarin names for everyone is because they were Sensitive To Aesthetics and felt really weird saying a Quenya name when speaking Sindarin. Elves!!

It turns out we’ve been using Feanor’s Sindarin name this whole time! Partially Sindarinized. Whatever. Now I understand about Feanaro I guess. On to his half-siblings: Findis was just a portmanteau baby, UNFORTUNATE. It also turns out the Finwe just straight up named EVERY SINGLE ONE OF HIS SONS FINWE. And later added something when it became clear what they were good at; Feanor got kuru- (craft?), Fingolfin got nolo- (wisdom), and Finarfin got ara- (nobility, bc he was nice). The reason Feanor’s name sounds different from his half-siblings is that he Sindarinized his mother name and they their father names. Like of course he only wanted to be known by his mother name. THAT GUY.

No sorry I got this wrong, this is awful; Finwe (father name) Nolofinwe (mother name) --> Fin Golfin --> Fingolfin in Sindarin.

Fingolfin had prefixed the name Finwe to Nolofinwe before the Exiles reached Middle-earth. This was in pursuance of his claim to be the chieftain of all the Noldor after the death of Finwe, and so enraged Feanor that it was no doubt one of the reasons for his treachery in abandoning Fingolfin and stealing away with all the ships.

SCREAMS. THIS IS SO DUMB. FEANOR NEVER STOPS GETTING MAD ABOUT HOW PEOPLE PRONOUNCE WORDS. Finarfin only prefixed his name after his brother’s death meant that he was supposed to be the next king, so I guess there was a long period where you had Fingolfin and Arfin. All Fingolfin’s sons got -kano suffixes, meaning ‘minor commander,’ transliterated into Sindarin as -gon. And HERE we find the information that Fingon “wore his long dark hair in great plaits braided with gold.” And I feel Triumph, because I have discovered a valid origin for another fandom Thing I kind of thought was totally arbitrary. SO much is made by this fandom of one-sentence throwaways, but I guess that’s what you have to do when nine out of ten sentences are about linguistics.

There’s some stuff about Arafinwean names I don’t care about too much, except for Aegnor--this was his mother name, Aikanaro, meaning ‘fell fire.’ Partially because he had Fire In His Eyes (indicating he loved to fight) and also his hair was stiff and stood up on his head like fire. Holy shit I love this he has gone up the to-draw list by like 5 places.

Ooh and it says Turgon reestablished Quenya as Gondolin’s lingua franca, that’s just so Turgon. 

Lastly (I hope) let’s take a look at some Curufinwean names. Recorded largely for my own future reference because I’m assuming the two people reading this already know. [Maedhros] Nelyafinwe (’the third Finwe’ since his father and grandfather were also named Finwe) Maitimo (’hottie’) Russandol (’copper-top’ for his red hair; grandpa Mahtan had the nickname ‘fox’). also notes that he wore a copper circlet. [Maglor] Kanafinwe (’strong-voiced Finwe’) Makalaure (’a metaphor about harps’) [Celegorm] Turkafinwe (’no one’s neck’s as incredibly thick as Finwe’) Tyelkormo/Tyelko (’hasty’) Curufin is just Kurufinwe, his dad’s own name bc he’s the favorite child and also pretty good at crafting I guess. Mother name is Atarinke (’little father,’ because his only characteristic is how much he is just like Feanor) [Caranthir] Morifinwe (’dark Finwe’ because he has black hair) Carnistir (’aww he’s blushing’) (don’t you mean Carniþtir?) [Amras] Pityafinwe (’little Finwe’ awww) Ambarussa (indicating that he and his twin also have red hair, which I am enormously smug about predicting, still) [Amrod] Telufinwe (’last Finwe’; when Feanor said NO MORE KIDS)  Ambarto

So basically they all used their mother names except Curufin. Veeeery interesting.

The story is that Nerdanel named the twins BOTH the name Ambarussa and when Feanor begged her to at least give them different names (’look! I made minimum effort! you do it too!’) she said “I will change one of their names to Ambarto, by lottery.” Later she prophecies that one of them will not set foot on Middle Earth and he... names the dead twin with her extra name when he gets burned alive with the ships. Also of significance here, I think, is that Curufin is the one he recruited to help him burn the ships, because he only trusts himself. Fucked up.

[readbookywooks]

A Thief in the Night

Now the days passed slowly and wearily. Many of the dwarves spent their time piling and ordering the treasure; and now Thorin spoke of the Arkenstone of Thrain, and bade them eagerly to look for it in every comer. "For the Arkenstone of my father," he said, "is worth more than a river of gold in itself, and to me it is beyond price. That stone of all the treasure I name unto myself, and I will be avenged on anyone who finds it and withholds it." Bilbo heard these words and he grew afraid, wondering what would happen, if the stone was found-wrapped in an old bundle of tattered oddments that he used as a pillow. All the same he did not speak of it, for as the weariness of the days grew heavier, the beginnings of a plan had come into his little head. Things had gone on like this for some time, when the ravens brought news that Dain and more than five hundred dwarves, hurrying from the Iron Hills, were now within about two days' march of Dale, coming from the North-East. "But they cannot reach the Mountain unmarked," said Rac, "and I fear lest there be battle in the valley. I do not call this counsel good. Though they are a grim folk, they are not likely to overcome the host that besets you; and even if they did so, what will you gain? Winter and snow is hastening behind them. How shall you be fed without the friendship and goodwill of the lands about you? The treasure is likely to be your death, though the dragon is no more!"' But Thorin was not moved. "Winter and snow will bite both men and elves," he said, "and they may find their dwelling in the Waste grievous to bear. With my friends behind them and winter upon them, they will perhaps be in softer mood to parley with." That night Bilbo made up his mind. The sky was black and moonless. As soon as it was full dark, he went to a corner of an inner chamber just within the gate and drew from his bundle a rope, and also the Arkenstone wrapped in a rag. Then he climbed to the top of the wall. Only Bombur was there, for it was his turn to watch, and the dwarves kept only one watchman at a time. "It is mighty cold!" said Bombur. "I wish we could have a fire up here as they have in the camp!" "It is warm enough inside," said Bilbo. "I daresay; but I am bound here till midnight," grumbled the fat dwarf. "A sorry business altogether. Not that I venture to disagree with Thorin, may his beard grow ever longer; yet he was ever a dwarf with a stiff neck." "Not as stiff as my legs," said Bilbo. "I am tired of stairs and stone passages. I would give a good deal for the feel of grass at my toes." "I would give a good deal for the feel of a strong drink in my throat, and for a soft bed after a good supper!" "I can't give you those, while the siege is going on. But it is long since I watched, and I will take your turn for you, if you like. There is no sleep in me tonight." "You are a good fellow, Mr. Baggins, and I will take your offer kindly. If there should be anything to note, rouse me first, mind you! I will lie in the inner chamber to the left, not far away." "Off you go!" said Bilbo. "I will wake you at midnight, and you can wake the next watchman." As soon as Bombur had gone, Bilbo put on his ring, fastened his rope, slipped down over the wall, and was gone. He had about five hours before him. Bombur would sleep (he could sleep at any time, and ever since the adventure in the forest he was always trying to recapture the beautiful dreams he had then); and all the others were busy with Thorin. It was unlikely that any, even Fili or Kili, would come out on the wall until it was their turn. It was very dark, and the road after a while, when he left the newly made path and climbed down towards the lower course of the stream, was strange to him. At last he came to the bend where he had to cross the water, if he was to make for the camp, as he wished. The bed of the stream was there shallow but already broad, and fording it in the dark was not easy for the little hobbit. He was nearly across when he missed his footing on a round stone and fell into the cold water with a splash. He had barely scrambled out on the far bank, shivering and spluttering, when up came elves in the gloom with bright lanterns and searched for the cause of the noise. "That was no fish!" one said. "There is a spy about. Hide your lights! They will help him more than us, if it is that queer little creature that is said to be their servant." "Servant, indeed!" snorted Bilbo; and in the middle of his snort he sneezed loudly, and the elves immediately gathered towards the sound. "Let's have a light!" he said. "I am here, if you want me!" and he slipped off his ring, and popped from behind a rock. They seized him quickly, in spite of their surprise. "Who are you? Are you the dwarves' hobbit? What are you doing? How did you get so far past our sentinels?" they asked one after another. "I am Mr. Bilbo Baggins," he answered, "companion of Thorin, if you want to know. I know your king well by sight, though perhaps he doesn't know me to look at. But Bard will remember me, and it is Bard I particularly want to see." "Indeed!" said they, "and what may be your business?" "Whatever it is, it's my own, my good elves. But if you wish ever to get back to your own woods from this cold cheerless place," he answered shivering, "you will take me along quiet to a fire, where I can dry-and then you will let me speak to your chiefs as quick as may be. I have only an hour or two to spare." That is how it came about that some two hours after his escape from the Gate, Bilbo was sitting beside a warm fire in front of a large tent, and there sat too, gazing curiously at him, both the Elvenking and Bard. A hobbit in elvish armour, partly wrapped in an old blanket, was something new to them. "Really you know," Bilbo was saying in his best business manner, "things are impossible. Personally I am tired of the whole affair. I wish I was back in the West in my own home, where folk are more reasonable. But I have an interest in this matter-one fourteenth share, to be precise, according to a letter, which fortunately I believe I have kept." He drew from a pocket in his old jacket (which he still wore over his mail), crumpled and much folded, Thorin's letter that had been put under the clock on his mantelpiece in May! "A share in the profits, mind you," he went on. "I am aware of that. Personally I am only too ready to consider all your claims carefully, and deduct what is right from the total before putting in my own claim. However you don't know Thorin Oakenshield as well as I do now. I assure you, he is quite ready to sit on a heap of gold and starve, as long as you sit here." "Well, let him!" said Bard. "Such a fool deserves to starve." "Quite so," said Bilbo. "I see your point of view. At the same time winter is coming on fast. Before long you will be having snow and what not, and supplies will be difficult - even for elves I imagine. Also there will be other difficulties. You have not heard of Dain and the dwarves of the Iron Hills?" "We have, a long time ago; but what has he got to do with us?" asked the king. "I thought as much. I see I have some information you have not got. Dain, I may tell you, is now less than two days' march off, and has at least five hundred grim dwarves with him - a good many of them have had experience in the dreadful dwarf and goblin wars, of which you have no doubt heard. When they arrive there may be serious trouble." "Why do you tell us this? Are you betraying your friends, or are you threatening us?" asked Bard grimly. "My dear Bard!" squeaked Bilbo. "Don't be so hasty! I never met such suspicious folk! I am merely trying to avoid trouble for all concerned. Now I will make you an offer!!" "Let us hear it!" they said. "You may see it!" said he. "It is this!" and he drew forth the Arkenstone, and threw away the wrapping. The Elvenking himself, whose eyes were used to things of wonder and beauty, stood up in amazement. Even Bard gazed marvelling at it in silence. It was as if a globe had been filled with moonlight and hung before them in a net woven of the glint of frosty stars. "This is the Arkenstone of Thrain," said Bilbo, "the Heart of the Mountain; and it is also the heart of Thorin. He values it above a river of gold. I give it to you. It will aid you in your bargaining." Then Bilbo, not without a shudder, not without a glance of longing, handed the marvellous stone to Bard, and he held it in his hand, as though dazed. "But how is it yours to give?" he asked at last with an effort. "O well!" said the hobbit uncomfortably. "It isn't exactly; but, well, I am willing to let it stand against all my claim, don't you know. I may be a burglar-or so they say: personally I never really felt like one-but I am an honest one, I hope, more or less. Anyway I am going back now, and the dwarves can do what they like to me. I hope you will find it useful." The Elvenking looked at Bilbo with a new wonder. "Bilbo Baggins!" he said. "You are more worthy to wear the armour of elf-princes than many that have looked more comely in it. But I wonder if Thorin Oakenshield will see it so. I have more knowledge of dwarves in general than you have perhaps. I advise you to remain with us, and here you shall be honoured and thrice welcome." "Thank you very much I am sure," said Bilbo with a bow. "But I don't think I ought to leave my friends like this, after all we have gone through together. And I promised to wake old Bombur at midnight, too! Really I must be going, and quickly." Nothing they could say would stop him; so an escort was provided for him, and as he went both the king and Bard saluted him with honour. As they passed through the camp an old man wrapped in a dark cloak, rose from a tent door where he was sitting and came towards them. "Well done! Mr. Baggins!" he said, clapping Bilbo on the back. "There is always more about you than anyone expects!" It was Gandalf. For the first time for many a day Bilbo was really delighted. But there was no time for all the questions that he immediately wished to ask. "All in good time!" said Gandalf. "Things are drawing towards the end now, unless I am mistaken. There is an unpleasant time just in front of you; but keep your heart up! You may come through all right. There is news brewing that even the ravens have not heard. Good night!" Puzzled but cheered. Bilbo hurried on. He was guided to a safe ford and set across dry, and then he said farewell to the elves and climbed carefully back towards the Gate. Great weariness began to come over him; but it was well before midnight when he clambered up the rope again - it was still where he had left it. He untied it and hid it, and then he sat down on the wall and wondered anxiously what would happen next. At midnight he woke up Bombur; and then in turn rolled himself up in his corner, without listening to old dwarfs thanks (which he felt he had hardly earned). He was soon fast asleep forgetting all his worries till the morning. As matter of fact he was dreaming of eggs and bacon.