#we respect our elvenking

[sotwk]

You can tell how a writer feels about Thranduil based on how often they try to use "Greenwood" or "Woodland Realm", when referring to his kingdom, instead of the more commonly known name, "Mirkwood".

[a-world-of-whimsy-5]

Hello, lovely ♡ I know you just did some Thranduil smut, but I have a request for more (always more). Could I request where the female (human) reader has a snowball fight with Thranduil and it soon becomes steamy and he gives it to her up against a tree in the middle of the forest? Thank you, dear. Love your writings. You are so talented ♡

Ask and you shall receive!

Of snowball fights and other pleasures

Pairing: Thranduil x Fem. Reader (Human / Noblewoman from Dale)

Word count: 3.2K

Themes : Smut | Soft

Summary: Thranduil has been wanting you for a while now, but he keeps to himself thinking you and Legolas have something going on. What happens when he finds out that is not the case, and you have no attachement to anyone?

Warnings: Kissing | Penetrative / Rough sex | Sex out in the open | Fingering (fem. receiving) | Nicknames | Age Difference | First time (fem.)

Want to be tagged? Want to know the reader request rules? Read all here 

If you like this, please consider giving it a reblog. Thank you! 

There were many rules in Thranduil's life.

They all circled around etiquette, custom, and tradition; they helped govern the elves of Mirkwood. Of these rules, many were written, some unwritten, and one such unwritten rule went along the lines of, "Thou shall not covet thy son's best friend."

You were Legolas' best friend, one he made while on a trip to Dale, and yet, Thranduil desired you. He desired you from the moment he first saw you. Thranduil thought it wholly inappropriate, as he truly believed Legolas himself desired you, and he held his tongue out of respect for both his son and you. 

Alas, that was not the case, not for you, at any rate. Legolas did not harbour the feelings his father thought he had. "Eru help me," Legolas said jovially over dinner one night, "But you're such a jolly sport."

And that was all you were, Eru help you. You were a jolly sport, a good listener, his partner in crime, the sister he always wanted, and nothing beyond that. You knew it was hopeless, that Legolas never saw you as anything but a jolly sport, and would never see you as anything but a jolly sport. Even if you bonked him on the head with a large sign that said 'I want you,' he would still see you only as a friend. Oh well, you reason, you might as well accept it.

You sighed and toyed with your food. Roast duck in honeyed wine, and cooked to absolute perfection. It was too delicious to pass up, but right now, you were simply not in the mood for it. You looked around and watched the elves talking, laughing, and singing before your gaze turned to the dais. The Elvenking was there, resplendent in ice blue velvet and cloth of silver. He had been wearing his winter crown, one made to look like icicle shards and snowflakes. Never in your life had you seen a creature more magnificent, and your breath hitched in your throat.

That hitched breath turned to a soft hum when the king turned his attention to you. Thranduil held your gaze for the longest possible time, his eyes darkening in such a way that it made your skin warm and your cheeks flush. You swallowed and managed a smile. Thranduil kept his eyes locked on yours before an aide called for his attention and he had to look away.

You blink once, then twice. What was that? You thought. Why did he look at you like that, making you feel all warm and feverish? And Eru help you, why did you enjoy it so?

Your stomach growled, and the duck finally appealed to your senses. You set yourself the pleasurable task of finishing every crumb. Legolas excused himself to talk to some others and Thranduil? Well, Thranduil excused himself as well, making his way to your table. "Y/n," he kept his tone perfectly neutral, his face a hard-to-read mask. "I see we have not driven you away with our rowdy behavior."

You looked to one table, where a drinking contest had commenced. At another table, elves gathered around a pair that had been arm wrestling. "I've seen all of this and more back at Dale," you grinned when Gimli, who had also come to visit, demanded a rematch with Legolas in some contest or another. "You're not going to scare me off that easily."

Thranduil smirked and sat opposite you. He kept his attention on his lap, to stop himself from staring at you. "And how goes your friendship with Legolas?" he asked with all the airs of innocent curiosity. "I only ask because the two of you have gotten close over the past few moons."

Ah yes. Legolas. "I'm just a jolly sport to Legolas," you mutter, just loud enough for him to hear.

"Pardon?"

"A jolly sport," you murmured. "A good ear. His partner in crime. The sister he always wanted--"

"And nothing beyond that?" Thranduil swallowed as hope stirred in his heart. Yes, there was hope, and wanting, and lust as well, something that peaked when he caught you licking honeyed wine off the pads of your fingers. Visions of his lips skimming over your fingers flashed before his eyes.

You said nothing and studied him. What was that flashing in his eyes? Why did it make you all warm and feverish again, and make you yearn for more? "And nothing beyond that," you said, your stomach tying itself in knots when you caught Thranduil's eyes darkening once more. There was a sound at the back of your throat, something between a hum and a sigh. Oh, to have him look at you like that all the time, like he wanted to eat you up.

"But maybe it's for the best," you coughed, clearing your throat. You were imagining things, you were sure of it. Thranduil was the Elvenking, there was no way he felt anything for you. No. Nothing at all.

"Perhaps," Thranduil mused as he drummed his fingers against the table. "But is there anyone else who has caught your interest? Anyone at all?"

"Planning on introducing me to anyone?" You teased, but your stomach knotted up again when jealousy flashed harsh and bright in his sky-blue eyes. 

Thranduil fought for composure. Here he was, a survivor of Doriath and king of the woodland realm, caving into jealousy like an elf barely into adulthood. "If you wish," every word was a trial for him. "I will be glad to introduce you, and recommend you."

But you won't be happy about it, you reasoned. In fact, Thranduil looked like he wanted to murder the ellon who caught your attention. You bit your lip in an effort not to laugh. "But there isn't anyone interested in me, more's the pity," you say, your eyes not missing the relief in his. 

Thranduil, awash with a sense of relief he never knew possible, found himself blurting, "Actually, yes, there is. Someone who thinks about you all the time."

Like me.

Thranduil thought he only said it in his mind, but the words rolled off his lips in a whisper. You couldn't make out what he said, and you leaned in, asking, "My lord?"

The king quickly shook his head and cleared his throat, his cheeks turning a pretty shade of pink. How did that just come out? He swallowed, his eyes darting everywhere, hoping no one heard or thought of questioning him. "Nothing. Truly nothing." he quickly rose. "I... Erm... Please do excuse me, y/n, a pressing matter needs my attention."

Before you could say another word, Thranduil turned sharply on his heel, his heart thrilling by what he heard. Legolas only saw you as a friend, nothing more. You were free of any attachment to his son.

By the time he reached his chambers, Thranduil realized he was grinning like a giddy teenager. He then called a soldier to him, and sent him off with a message.

..................

It had snowed that night, and the entire world was covered in a beautiful blanket of white the next morning.

You went out, fully clothed in a thick cloak to keep the cold at bay. Legolas had gone off to Dale with Gimli, and you were left to your own devices. When you reached the gardens, you found Thranduil already there, walking and taking in the wintery scenes. "Good morrow," you dipped out of respect. "My lord." 

Thranduil swallowed and tried to bring his racing pulse to an even keel. "Good morrow, y/n."

He quickly turned away and headed towards the path leading into the forest. "And how was last night? Did you sleep comfortably?"

Something compelled you to follow him. "Very comfortably, thank you. I've never slept so well in my life."

Thranduil smiled and kept walking. You kept following, your eyes taking in the wonderful stillness that enveloped the forest, your ears tingling from the sound of snow crunching beneath your feet. "I was concerned, you see," he said, as the two of you continued walking. "Not everyone likes sleeping within a cave system."

"But it's beautiful, my lord," you said, surprised he would think you'd be put off by his home. In truth, the halls were more splendid than the palace of Dale, and you actually grew up within the palace. "Why would anyone not like it?"

Thranduil turned to you, to make sure you were not lying. One look convinced him that you weren't. "It pleases me to hear you say it..."

You felt a sense of mischief growing as you took in all that pristine snow. Thranduil was a few paces ahead of you, oblivious to what was going on behind him. Just once, you thought as you quickly dipped to your knees. Just a teensy bit of fun.

"The dwarves adore it, of course," Thranduil didn't hear you pick up a handful of snow and press it into a ball. "But some mortals... Alas..."

Thump.

A snowball exploded neatly over his cloak. Thranduil stopped and turned. Another snowball hit him square in the chest with another soft thump.

"Y/n," Thranduil took a deep breath and dusted bits of snow that clung to his clothes. "What are you..."

This time, the snowball hit him on the chin, exploding in a wet spray of icy particles. Thranduil looked at you, taking in your grin, the challenge in your eyes. Overcome with a sense of playfulness himself, he tsked before picking up a ball of snow. Before you could think or even blink, a ball of blinding white hit you right in the chest. When he dipped to make another projectile, you picked up your skirts and ran off into the forest, shouting, "You'll have to catch me first!"

The challenge was like music to Thranduil's ears.

You ran and ran, giggling like anything. Thranduil could never catch up with you. Why, you already had a head start on him. And you were certain he couldn't find you, at least not for a while .So confident were you in your own success that you didn't see or even hear Thranduil until he was right behind you, whirling you around and pushing you up against a tree. 

"Hitting me with snowy projectiles?" Thranduil said gleefully as he pinned you against the tree. "And while my back was turned? Very unsportsmanlike, yes?"

Oh, how you giggled beneath him. "B-but it's such fun th-that way."

Thranduil tsked again, this time to disguise the fact that being this close to you was making his body strain against his clothes. "There will be a price to pay for this, you know," he mumbled huskily.

You narrowed your eyes even as your lips quirked upward. "A price, you say."

The heat radiating from his body started to do strange things to yours. You felt warm and feverish again, this time from his being so close to you. You wanted to reach out and touch him, to have his unrestrained self open up to you. And as much as you thought you liked him, you realized you felt nothing like this with Legolas, nothing that made you feel like your blood was heating with need. 

Perhaps it wasn't Legolas you were destined for after all. "And what will that price be, my lord?"

Thranduil narrowed his eyes, as wanting slowly hammered at his restraint. He had asked for a price. A price you seemed to be willing to pay. How much were you willing to pay? "Whatever I want, y/n."

You swallowed and looked up at him, at those beautiful blue eyes that had grown dark with need. When you ran your tongue over your lips, you heard him groan. "And," you asked, as heat pooled in your belly. "What do you want?"

Thranduil dipped his head, his lips just above the rim of your ear. "You," he whispered. Hot breath fanning over your ear made you close your eyes and whimper, made goosebumps rise all over your skin. "I want you."

You swallowed as he pressed up against you, his body flush against yours. His hands let go of your arms and sneaked up your waist; his lips skimmed over your ear. A sound rose from the back of your throat, something that felt like a purr. Warmth and wanting washed over you again, and you grabbed onto Thranduil's collar, saying, "And you shall have me, however you wish to have me."

Thranduil pulled back, his jaw clenched, his eyes burning with passion. On the next intake of breath, his lips crushed yours. 

You were pulled into a darkened tunnel of desire. Thranduil's kisses were deep, drugging you senseless. His tongue, all warm and luscious and sinful, licked and probed its way into the warmth of your mouth. You purred helplessly, your arms looping around his neck. Your body was already throbbing and aching, arousal was dripping down your thighs, and he had just started kissing you.

Thranduil was filled with greedy impatience. On any other day, he would have been slow and languorous, worshipping your body with his very breath, but today he was just overcome with the need to take. He hiked up your skirts, pulling them up to your waist. A hand callused by centuries of hunting and fighting ripped apart your underwear and cupped you between your thighs. When skilled fingers played with your already slick heat, you jolted. "Already wet for me, I see," Thranduil crooned, delighting in your little whimpers, your little noises. He slipped a finger in, moaning into your mouth as he felt your walls clench around it. He took a step back and watched as your eyes almost rolled back and your mouth opened in a half-moan. Your body trembled and trembled when a second finger joined the first, curling gently inside your warmth, making your body arch beautifully against his whenever they struck that place that could only give a woman the type of pleasure she had never felt before. He felt resistance as he pushed deeper, and his body hardened even more. He was going to be your first. And how he hoped he could be your only.

And it wasn't enough. Not for you, and not for him. Thranduil pulled out and your cheeks bloomed with heat when each of those slickened fingers slowly disappeared into his mouth, only to pop out with a soft plop. "Delicious," he crooned again.

"But will that be all?" you muttered breathily, challenging him to give you more.

Thranduil growled. "Oh, there will be more, my petal," he hissed, and his lips opened over yours again. The sweetness of his kiss washed down your throat, leaving you breathless and lightheaded. You reached out to the buckle of his belt, unclasping it and loosening his breeches. Thranduil pressed himself flush against you, caging you to the tree as you reached in and wrapped your hands over his cock. 

The feeling of you pumping his length well and truly undid him. "Fuck," he swore and bit down on your lower lip, leaving it slightly sore and bruised. He kept still, his head thrown back, his breath coming out in shuddering pants as you stroked his cock. You found a rhythm he liked, your hands tightening and releasing, a perverse feeling drowning you as you took him to the brink and threatened to take him over that. What would it feel like, to have him pour over your hands?

But that was not what Thranduil desired. Oh no. Thranduil was hungry for much more than that. "Jump," he ordered, his arms hooking tightly around your waist.

When he lifted you in one swift move, you hooked your legs around his hips, your arms gripping tightly around his shoulders. Thranduil didn't even feel the strain. An ellon such as he was able to bear so much more, and you felt like a feather to him. "Do you want this?" he breathed as he rubbed the tip of his cock against your hole. "Tell me, petal, do you want this? For me to claim your maidenhead?"

You swallowed and looked into a pair of soulful eyes. "There'd be no going back from this," you say hesitantly.

"There won't," Thranduil agreed. "But if you say you'd have me, I will be by your side always."

You swallowed, considered his words, and came to a decision. "I'd be insulted if you weren't."

Thranduil's lips turned into a triumphant grin as they sought yours again. There were no more words this time, there was no need for them. Thranduil's kiss was a sweet distraction from the discomfort and pain you felt when he pierced you with one sharp thrust. Thranduil held onto you, keeping perfectly still, crooning sweet nothings into your ear. He let you adjust to his size, and he savoured how tight and hot you felt around him. 

It was all more than he had ever dreamed of, really. Thranduil would keep himself awake at night, thinking of you, dreaming of you, your body squirming and writhing underneath his, and now, all of that had turned into reality. He started to rock into your body, grinding his hips against the insides of your thighs.

The bark of the tree rubbed up against your back whenever your body jerked with his thrusts. You were sure your back would be bruised and sore the next day, but you didn't care. You only cared about what Thranduil was making you feel, and he was making you feel so much and more.

Jolt upon jolt of pleasure went up your back, turning your bones into a watery mess every time Thranduil ground his hips against you, filling you completely to the hilt.  Your moans were muffled by his kisses, your fingers could only dig into his back. Your legs struggled for purchase against his thighs as he kept bucking into you, his pace growing fast and relentless, his body tightening with each passing second.

And yours started to feel like a tightly pulled string that was about to snap. The soft squelching noises of Thranduil's length sinking into your heat seemed to carry, but you were too drunk on his embraces to care. You threw your head back as those coiled muscles grew closer to snapping. "D-don't s-stop," you pleaded.

Thranduil growled and held you tighter, his hips slapping against your thighs. He sunk his lips into your neck, his teeth scraping at your tender flesh. Your mewls inflamed him and he grew rougher, his growls growing as your walls tightened and throbbed around his cock. "Come for me," he moaned. "Come for me now."

Your body just surrendered, shattering into a million tiny pieces. You buried your face in his shoulder, your cries muffled against his robes. Your body shook violently as Thranduil grunted and buried himself deep inside of you, his essence spilling within your walls. He shivered as your orgasm kept milking his cock, and when he finally finished, he contented himself with holding you to him.

His breath fanned over your throat as he held you to him, keeping you steady. You took a deep, steadying breath and blinked, your mind suddenly clearing as a problem lay before you both. "L-legolas..." you panted. "What... What are we going to tell him?"

"He already knows," Thranduil mumbled, his chest still heaving against yours. "I spoke to him last night, and he gave me his blessing. That's why he went to Dale, so you could decide for yourself without being fogged up by his presence."

Your lips tugged up into a grin. "Trust you to leave nothing to chance."

Thranduil smirked and set you down gently, helping you fix your clothes, your hair, and setting himself to rights. "I never leave such important things to chance. That is why I'm the Elvenking."

[bitkahuna]

“The only thing you should concern yourself with, dear sister, is making sure our princes are ready for the arrival of the elves. We’ve been given an ‘estimate’ of their arrival by the ElvenKing Thranduil.”

Dís scoffed. “This is why I suggested coordinating with Lady Galadriel. She’s one of the only respectable elves there ever were.” She spoke with a firm nod. Though dwarves and elves have never gotten along, one would be hard-pressed to find a dwarf that didn’t hold Lady Galadriel in some respect. “What’s the estimate.”

“Could be either today or tomorrow. So we must be constantly ready.”

“Does your Chamber Master know?”

“W- of course he does.”

“Then why is he taking his breakfast on foot?” She asked as she watched Bilbo grab a few things and hurry out of the dining hall, sparing Thorin one last smile before he left.

-------

Chapter 20 - Posted

[missiemoosie]

I never really liked how, in either the book or the movie, we never really get to see Thranduil and Bard paying their respects to Thorin by laying the Arkenstone and Orcrist on his body. I always thought it was such a touching thing for them to do and a good symbol of the future alliance between the three races in the north.

For movie Thranduil, it would have been an even nicer thing to see, considering how cold a character he had been turned into, but given that it was Leggo-my-Eggo who gave Thorin the sword during BoFA, such a thing wasn't possible.

But, hey, that's what fanfic's for, right? So, of course, in Nightmares, I made sure to write out a scene where Thranduil and Bard get their moment to pay respects.

And, having written such a scene, I now present to you, a rare snippet of Moosie's writing that will probably go unseen due to the glitchy account:

Whispers started to fill the chamber and, as she looked towards the entrance, she saw Thranduil and Bard among the procession of mourners. Behind her, she could hear Dain and some members of the Company grumbling about the presence of the Elvenking and part of her wanted to turn around and shush them. Bilbo, however, beat her to it and the grumbling abruptly ended.

When the pair reached Thorin’s bier, they halted, both man and elf bowed their heads in solemn respect to the fallen leader. After a moment, Thranduil lifted his gaze and glanced across the way, looking at the various members of the Company. When his eyes fell on Baylee, who gave him a small nod of her head, he returned the gesture before speaking.

“A warrior as great as Thorin Oakenshield should not venture into the afterlife unarmed,” he said, his voice being amplified by the chamber’s acoustics. Suddenly, he drew forth a sword hidden beneath his cloak—Orcrist. Around him, dwarves and humans alike jumped back from him in shock; a few of the dwarves uttered annoyed curses in Khuzdul.

“Should orcs or goblins ever come near this mountain again, this blade—being crafted by the elven masters of old—will glow blue in warning,” Thranduil continued, stepping forward. With the greatest of care, he tucked the sword into the crook of Thorin’s arm. “I gift this sword to the dwarves of Erebor as a token of friendship and of peace between our peoples. Let our feud be ended.”

Then Bard stepped forward. “I do not come bearing a gift,” he said, reaching into his jacket. “Instead, I come with that which was taken from this place in hopes of rekindling the bond that was once shared by Dale and Erebor.” He brought out the Arkenstone, which earned plenty of astonished exclamations from the dwarves around him. “Let the Arkenstone now be returned to the Lonely Mountain—to where it belongs.”

The gem gleamed brilliantly in the torchlight and almost seemed to glow from within as the human placed it atop Thorin’s chest. The sight of it, however, made Baylee’s stomach churn. It was that jewel that had driven her beloved to the point of insanity and nearly doomed them all. If it were up to her, she would cast it into the deepest pit of the mountain and forbid anyone from seeking it out ever again.

[bisexualbumblebee-writes]

Dwarrowtober 2022 Day 25: Betrayal- Thorin Oakenshield x OC

Thorin Oakenshield x Bellarose Baggins

Description: Thorin finds out that Bilbo had secretly taken the Arkenstone and assumes Bellarose was in on it.

Word Count: 1.1k

A/N: This one felt weird to write because I hate writing angst. I always just want everyone to be happy so I rarely ever (if at all) write angst that doesn’t have some sort of happy conclusion so I’m sorry if this fic is weird at the end.

“Thorin, are you sure this is a good idea?” Bellarose asked nervously as she stood amongst the Company atop the gate blockade in Erebor. The King refused to look at her though she could see his firm gaze harden even more.

“This is the only way,” was his only answer as armed Elves and Men alike marched towards the mountain. The Hobbit looked around anxiously, quickly noticing that Rosemary, Aurora and several Dwarves looked like they felt what she was feeling in that moment. Her gaze was torn away when the marching stopped, then she watched as Bard and King Thranduil rode to the front of the armies and approached the broken bridge over the moat on their respective steeds. Without warning Thorin suddenly drew his bow and shot an arrow at the ground, nearly hitting the Elvenking’s elk in the leg. Both leaders looked up at the Dwarf King in surprise, halting their steeds.

“I will put the next one between your eyes!” Thorin yelled, drawing another arrow as the rest of the Dwarves cheered and shook their weapons. For a moment Thranduil stared at him angrily, then tilted his head. It was apparently some sort of cue because the first few rows of Elves pulled out their bows. Bellarose gasped fearfully as they notched their arrows and aimed at the wall in a single motion. She was pulled down by Balin as the rest of the Company ducked behind the ramparts aside from Thorin. After holding the pose for a few seconds, Thranduil raised his hand, and the Elves put away their arrows. Thorin, however, still had his bow drawn.

“We’ve come to tell you: payment of your debt has been offered...and accepted,” Thranduil informed him, which confused Bellarose. The Dwarf King seemed to feel the same way.

“What payment? I gave you nothing! You have nothing!” He yelled as everyone stood back up again.

“We have this,” Bard spoke this time, reaching into his robe. A second later he pulled out a beautiful gem and held it above his head. Bellarose’s eyes widened. Was that…

“They have the Arkenstone?” Kili questioned hotly, confirming her suspicion. “Thieves! How came you by the heirloom of our house? That stone belongs to the king!”

“And the king may have it - in our goodwill,” Bard answered easily, slipping the Arkenstone back into his robe. “But first he must honor his word.” All eyes turned to Thorin, who whispered to himself before speaking aloud.

“They are taking us for fools. This is a ruse, a filthy lie,” he spoke to the company before yelling at Bard and Thranduil. “THE ARKENSTONE IS IN THIS MOUNTAIN! IT IS A TRICK!” That was when the Hobbit noticed someone step into view out of the corner of her eye. It was Bilbo.

“It-It’s no trick. The stone is real. I gave it to them.”

“Bilbo,” the younger Baggins gasped out as the rest of the Company looked at Bilbo in shock.

“You…” Thorin trailed off, sorrow and anger prevalent in his voice.

“I took it as my fourteenth share,” Bilbo elaborated further.

“You would steal from me?” Thorin questioned.

“Steal from you?” The Hobbit repeated, shaking his head. “No. No. I may be a burglar, but I like to think I’m an honest one. I’m willing to let it stand against my claim.”

“Against your claim?” The King exclaimed angrily. “Your claim! You have no claim over me, you miserable rat!” He threw down his bow and began walking towards Bilbo.

“I was going to give it to you. Many times I wanted to, but-”

“But what, thief?” Thorin cut him off.

“You are changed, Thorin,” Bilbo said desperately and sadly. “The Dwarf I met in Bag End would never have gone back on his word! Would never have doubted the loyalty of his kin!”

“Do not speak to me of loyalty,” the Dwarf snapped before shouting to the others. “Throw him from the rampart!”

“No!” Bellarose cried, attempting to go to her brother. She was unfortunately held back by Balin as the others stepped away from her older brother in confusion and concern. When he realized no one was going to obey him, Thorin looked around in surprise before returning to rage.

“DO YOU HEAR ME?!” He grabbed Fili’s arm, but the Prince merely shook him off.

“I will do it myself!” Thorin shouted before lunging at Bilbo. That was when Bellarose finally managed to break free from Balin, pushing herself between her brother and the King.

“Thorin no!”

“And you,” the Dwarf seethed, which made the Hobbit girl falter. “You knew that he had it and you didn’t think to tell me!” Bellarose stared at him in shock. The betrayed look in his expression made her shake her head quickly.

“What? No, I didn’t!”

“She really didn’t,” Bilbo jumped to her aid.

“I don’t believe you! Either of you! Curse you both!” With that he lunged for them both. Bellarose screamed fearfully when he actually managed to grab the Hobbits, beginning to push them over the rampart while the others attempted to pry him away from them.

“Cursed be the Wizard that forced you on this Company!” He was suddenly stopped when a booming voice called out.

“IF YOU DON’T LIKE MY BURGLAR,” Gandalf started in a formidable tone before returning to a normal volume and tone. “Then please don’t damage them. Return them to me! You’re not making a very splendid figure as King under the mountain, are you? Thorin son of Thrain!” Slowly, the King let Bilbo and Bellarose up and the others rushed to help them up.

“Never again will I have dealings with wizards,” Thorin yelled as Bofur gently pushed the Hobbits (including Rosemary) towards a rope hanging on the wall.

“Go,” he whispered urgently. Bellarose made to follow her brother but paused when Thorin spoke again.

“Or Shire-rats!” He continued before his eyes landed on the girl. “Leave my sight before I kill you where you stand.” His threat brought tears to the girl’s eyes. She turned away so he wouldn’t see her tears and clambered down the rope, which Bilbo had already descended.

As she walked away from the palace she finally allowed her tears to fall. She felt betrayed, like Thorin, but for a different reason. While he was hurt by Bilbo taking the Arkenstone without his knowing, she was hurt by the fact that he had no trust in her and believed she would keep something like that from him. It was as if him finally becoming King under the mountain had given him amnesia, and he had forgotten all that they’d talked about and felt for each other on the journey here. She knew that he wasn’t in his right mind, but it still didn’t stop the hurt.

[fantasies-fairytales-n-fics]

Thranduil and Josie Pt. 122- Court Is In Session

Summary: The Elvenking has a "shocking" meeting with the warlock Harker. Josie, Garrett and Legolas go to court with the Seelie Queen who plays a vindictive game with the unwilling participants. The verdict is in as Legolas faces a new reality as do Garrett and Josie. Familiar fiends enjoy the bonfire and come across a major clue.

*Warnings* Angst, violence, heartbreak, language

Stories Stories Stories Masterlist

"Harker..." Thranduil scowled at the blonde wicked warlock through narrowed eyes.

"The one and only. What a glorious day here in the goblin realm don't you think? All dark and deathly. Surely you were not thinking of departing after all the destruction you have brought forth to my brother's kingdom? I must insist that you remain here awhile longer to answer to the King for what you have done."

"Get out of my way." The Elvenking snarled, losing the patience he most always had.

Harker took a step towards Thranduil with a grin, not intimidated in the least by his twin swords or his feeble words.

"Oh, but I cannot do that. You see, you were quite a valuable piece to the goblin King in obtaining the final, most important piece for his plans, but that will soon be collected along with one other needed item. Really, you serve no purpose now and I may have been inclined to let you go, but not after you have brought forth the inferno on top of that mountain. Did you really think it would be that simple to kill Jareth? Surely you must know there is only one way to do that...All you have merely done is destroy his castle but not his labyrinth inside that mountain in which he still lives and breathes."

"I do know, but it does not hurt in crippling an empire. Since when do you care for Jareth. You are the one who killed him are you not?"

"I see you have done your homework. Yes, I killed him and my watered down brother Julian had to bring him back, clueless as to what Jareth would become, the warlock he was always meant to be and so Jules shall also be, now that he has taken his proper place as a 7th son. Ironic don't you think? Julian being the ghastly good son and trying to keep Jareth on the straight and narrow like him, only to accidentally turn him into what he tried to save him from. But now, all is right thanks to yours truly. Quite a family reunion it will be I must say."

"You spew lies as any warlock of evil does. Julian would never fall under your wicked wings."

Harker formed an overly confident grin as he held the crystal Julian had obtained from the bookstore back in Scotland.

"You don't know the half of it."

"We both know that Ashmole is the only thing that can destroy Jareth along with the combination of three powerful gemstones, which two are already in my possession as you can see, oh and yes, the three missing pages to that book, I also now have......but that is not the only reason Jareth wants it, for he has great plans for all of middle earth....now, as you were saying about Julian?"

Thranduil's eyes widened as he saw Jareth's citrine ring upon Harker's finger and also over the fact that Julian never would have given up those pages, not willingly anyways, since for 9 years he suffered in silence, torture and captivity to keep Caroline from getting her hands on that book.

"Judging by the expression on your face, I see you now believe what I say to be true."

"What have you done to my wife's father!?"

Thranduil greatly respected Julian for many reasons, but mostly because of his genuine love for you, even in knowing that he was not your biological father...and Thranduil knew how much you loved him as well.

Harker chuckled. "I have done nothing to Jareth...oh! You mean Jules, her father for all intents and purposes, that daddy. Oh the irony in that tale, but I'll save that for another time. I have done nothing to Julian. He is very much alive and well. Now Jareth on the other hand, he was away for awhile and came to visit Jules and I. He was able to persuade our brother to join us. It really didn't take much effort in convincing Jules that it was where he belonged."

Harker gazed at the citrine ring on his index finger as he stroked the gem with his thumb.

"And he will be obtaining the other gem needed soon enough, along with the book, both actually right under your wife's nose, one literally. I would have paid my niece a visit myself but I felt it to be much easier for the moonstone to be retrieved by someone she trusts. Daddy dearest. Although, I would have loved to have went there myself for I hear she smells of cherries and I like cherries."

A rage like no other boiled through Thranduil's blood as he death glared Harker, teeth grinding and nose flaring.

"Oh my, if looks could kill. It appears I have struck a nerve." Harker chortled, unscathed by the Elvenking's eyes of daggers.

"If it is the stone you want, I will tell you where to locate mine, for they are one in the same. You will leave Josephine out of this!" Thranduil growled, knowing his ring lied on the underside of his finger, hidden inside his glove.

"What a thoughtful gesture to offer your ring of power for a simple woman. Such a loyal and faithful husband, well, that is unless you count your indiscretions with Raven as loyal and faithful...oh yes, and let us not forget Tauriel, my how word gets around. You sure like those redheads eh?...BUT, then again, so do I. I also hear the sweet Josephine is becoming quite close to the new King of Mirkwood...what's his name? Lego something? Oh well...back to the matter at hand. Jules is probably almost there and will do whatever is necessary to take the gem, for the girl he knew as his daughter now means nothing to him."

Thranduil let his words about you and Legolas go in one ear and out the other, for that he was certain to be a lie. He knew how Legolas felt about you, but did not believe you would ever return his feelings...but what Harker said about Julian truly worried him.

"It will do you no good! For it is merely a small piece of the original moonstone. You will need mine to complete your task. Call Julian off and I will offer you mine freely!"

Harker shook his head and motioned for the army of goblins he had concealed in the shadows to come out.

"Nice attempt to deter me from her. I am growing tiresome of this but I will give you an A for effort. Her stone will do just fine for it belongs to a witch, and it is the one needed and desired... and I WILL obtain it. The moonstone of an elf lord is worthless! I have the crystal, I have the citrine and I have the missing pages....and soon I will have the book and the moonstone. If Julian fails, I will retrieve the gem myself and maybe even have your wife as well."

Thranduil's already boiling blood now ignited into a volcanic eruption.

"Are you ready to DIE FOR IT!" The Elvenking raged as he poked the tip of his sword against Harker's throat.

Harker began bellowing in laughter and then his face went flat and serious. He slowly wrapped his hand that bore the citrine ring, around the razor sharp blade and then the stone lit up like the sun. The burning glow traveled swiftly through the blade up to Thranduil's hand before he could even react. The King's arm glowed orange and he began to shake as if he were being electrocuted. He couldn't move nor release his hand from his sword as Harker continued to grasp it firmly. As sharp as the steel was, it should have sliced right through the warlock's hand but the ring protected him.

Harker finally let go and Thranduil stumbled back a few steps, completely stunned and disoriented, his arms dangling helplessly at his sides as his twin swords fell to the ground.

"Jos...Josephine..." Thranduil choked out.

"You whimpering sprite!!" Harker reeled and struck Thranduil across his face with great warlock force, knocking him clean off of his feet and onto his back.

"Take him to the iron cage in the mountain's dungeons! I have plans of my own for the Elvenking." Harker ordered to the goblins.

Thranduil found himself yet once again being drug off by Jareth's mutant minions and completely helpless to do anything about it, for the jolt of Jareth's ring disabled him from being able to move or speak, but he was well aware of all that was happening and felt the debilitating pain from the electric charge throb through every inch of his body.

You walked beside Garrett as you both followed Legolas inside the Seelie Court. It was all like some beautiful image out of a fairytale book you read as a kid...but as Legolas had said, don't be blinded by it. It was hard not to be, for it reminded you of Thranduil's gardens, where you both were married.

You stopped to look around and were startled by a male faerie groping your hair as other female ones did the same to Legolas and Garrett.

"Welcome." he said and took your knife as the women took Legolas's bow and arrows and knives. Garrett didn't carry weapons, for he was a weapon himself.

"Hey, hey!" Garrett snapped and rushed to your side, planting himself between you and the faerie man. "Ok magic mike, keep your hands to yourself."

"Garrett, it's alright...but..Legolas, they, they took our weapons."

"You'll get them back when you leave the court." the Seelie Queen spoke as she arose from her throne that was embedded in an abundance of vines.

"Your majesty. What an honor." Legolas said as he bowed to her and gave you and Garrett a look that told you to do the same, in which you both quickly did.

"Wait, that's the Queen?" Garrett whispered to you.

"Why is the vampire here? He was not invited."

"He's with me." you quickly answered.

"My lady, Garrett has proven himself a worthy warrior and a loyal friend. We insist that he be here with us." Legolas replied.

You and Garrett both looked at Legolas like a deer in the headlights.

"Anything you can say to us, you can say to him." Legolas added.

"Very well. The vampire can stay."

Legolas bowed his head at her acceptance. "You are as generous as you are lovely."

"Set an extra plate at the table for our third guest." Amara told the servant.

She then came to you and took your hand, leading you to the table.

"This is going to be fun."

You glanced back at Legolas and Garrett, who gave each other a look and quickly followed.

You all then sat down atop pillows on the forest floor at the table which was an old mammoth sized tree stump and filled with mostly fruits.

"It is just so strange, her appearance for being so ancient. She hasn't even reached puberty." you quietly said to Legolas who sat next to you.

"She is ancient. She uses the Seelie magic to manipulate her age."

Garrett sat at your other side and softly spoke his thoughts.

"Genius. She tries to seem all innocent and cute but really she's just..."

"Hungry?" Amara said as she came to the table and sat down.

You and Garrett wide eyed each other as he lightly gulped.

"Thank you, but we would really like to know why you requested for Josie to be here?" Legolas asked politely.

"I'd like to know more about Josie. You are one of Jareth's and Caroline's children?"

"Umm, actually I'm the only one. Well, except for a half sister I do not acknowledge..." you answered as your eyes slowly moved to Garrett over his filthy fling with Raven. His eyes hovered over his plate as he felt the burn of your stare.

"Are you sure about that?" Amara questioned.

"As far as I know, why do you ask?"

She looked you over as if she were reading your soul.

"I feel you share the same blood with two others, both of magic like yourself. I would love to see what you can do. How about a demonstration? Don't be shy."

"Well...actually...I...I don't have any powers right now. I seemed to have lost them..."

"Have you really? They're still there. You just have to look deeper for them....and you vampire...are you still learning to walk in the sun?"

"Wow. Word travels fast down here." Garrett answered a bit surprised that she knew anything about him at all.

"It does. I hear whispers from the birds, the bees and the bugs. They're all in my service. Such as, you're an effective killer. The sweeter the honey, the deadlier the trap."

She eyed a quite uncomfortable Garrett as if he were something to eat, then included Legolas.

"And what about you Legolas. You and Garrett both wish Josie to be your lover?"

You almost choked on the grapes you were munching on as Legolas and Garrett's mouths dropped open from the Queen's words.

"Respectfully, I do not think this is an appropriate conversation." you said to help them both out.

She gave you a not so nice look and took the hand of her servant to get up, then her teeth turned into razors as she bit into an apple and tossed it onto the table.

Garrett's eyes bulged as he followed the mutilated apple to it's resting place while the fiercely fanged faerie stood right next to him.

"I'd like a moment alone with the daylighter."

"Alone?" Garrett slightly gulped and cautiously looked up at her.

"With Garrett??" you asked in great concern.

"My lady, perhaps you could discuss it here? We prefer not to be separated." Legolas insisted.

"Don't worry. I'll bring him back with all his limbs attached." she smiled as she glanced down at a very disturbed Garrett.

"Umm.. Ok..." Garrett replied as he looked in your worried eyes and got up. You didn't like this one bit....or her.

"It's ok Josephine. I'll be fine."

Off they went behind a curtain and disappeared.

"I've never met a vampire quite like you....and I've been alive for a very very long time. One that only kills the bad humans for his daily food intake and can control his thirst. You're quite interesting to me Garrett."

"Sooo...you're not upset that I'm here?"

"On the contrary. I have seen you watching Josephine for sometime now. I was hoping your friends would invite you along tonight, the daylighter rockstar. I've mentored some of the greatest Seelie musicians. Have you ever heard of Sia or Bjork? I can help you too. You can visit my court anytime."

"Annnnd why would you do that for me?"

"Because I want to be friends. Allies. I feel darker times are coming Roman and my feelings are rarely wrong....Oh..oh can I call you Roman?"

"Uh...yeah...go for it." Garrett agreed, if it would keep her from going all pennywise again, he thought to himself. He was mind blown at how she knew anything of his human life.

"You and I can help each other Roman. We both want what's in the other room. I want the King and you want the Queen."

"And how do you propose to make that happen?"

Amara smiled. "You're still so young Roman, in your newborn phase. Elves are all alike, even physically, but you, you're so different and much more appealing to humans....to Josie. I can see it when she looks at you. You are of her own kind, human like still and she's drawn to you because of that, as you are to her. I can rid Legolas as your competition so you can finally have her."

"RID Legolas? I am not sure what your intentions are to get what you want, but I will not do anything to hurt Josephine. I have done enough to her already. I'm sorry but you've got the wrong guy."

"No I don't. I want to be friends Roman and I'm willing to wait. I'm a very patient woman."

You paced back and forth in worry for Garrett as Legolas sat at the table.

"We should never have let Garrett come...If anything happens to him because of me....."

"He didn't exactly give us a choice Josie....and I can't really blame him. If I were him, I would never leave your side either."

Legolas looked so glum as he lowered his eyes to the table and it broke your heart knowing how he felt about you.

Suddenly, Garrett came hauling ass out of the curtain with the Seelie Queen and her servant following him.

"Is everything ok?" you asked him.

"Great! Josephine, we need to leave here RIGHT now." He said as he grabbed your arms.

Legolas stopped him as not to insult the Queen.

"Your majesty, with your permission, we really should be going."

"But you've only just arrived."

Vines began crawling up and winding around Legolas and Garrett's legs, and then to their arms before anyone of them knew what was happening.

"It's futile to struggle. Vitas Veritas. Enchanted vines that only obey me."

"What are you doing?? Let them go!"

"But they killed several of my kind."

"What? We didn't kill anyone!" Garrett adamantly said.

"She cannot lie. Your majesty, you must be mistaken." Legolas professed.

"I told you, the birds, bees, bugs, they're all in my service."

Then it hit you. "The gnats...at the kill tree."

"Seriously? The bugs I killed?" a befuddled Garrett asked.

"But that can't mean..." you began to speak.

"Their deaths require justice." Amara quickly explained. "Unless of course, you'd rather play a game?"

"What kind of...." Legolas tried to ask.

"A game sounds better." Garrett quickly added, interrupting the elf. Legolas glared at Garrett as the vampire returned the look with furrowed brows as he shook his head in frustration.

"It's simple really. All I ask is a kiss."

"Youuuu, want one of us to.... kiss you?" you asked in straight up confusion.

"The game isn't for me. It's for you Josie. The kiss that will set them free is the kiss you most desire. I suggest you move quickly. Once the vines reach their neck, the boys will be dead, dead, dead....."

"and your emerald has no power here to save them." Amara explained with a satisfied smile.

Legolas and Garrett gazed at each other with worrisome looks as the vines tightened over their arms and around their chests.

"Josephine, just kiss Legolas so we can get out of here." Garrett anxiously told you.

You turned and looked at Legolas, then rushed to him and kissed him soft and quickly. When you pulled back, nothing changed.

You spun around to Amara. "Why are the vines still here??? I did what you asked!"

"Why do you think Josie?" Amara grinned with confidence as you looked at her in fear, knowing that you now had to face something you had fought for awhile, even more so after what happened with Raven....and it was something Amara knew as well.

You quickly turned back around and stared at each the elf and the vampire as the vines were now beginning to wrap around their necks.

"You can fool yourself, but not the vitas veritas." Amara continued with her sick game.

You glanced at the Seelie Queen once more and then sped over to Garrett.

"This means nothing..." you told him, just like he told Raven the same thing before he did what he did, but in his case, it was true.

He quickly nodded with tears in his eyes, not because he was losing air but because of how horribly sorry he was for everything he had ever done to hurt you. In that moment, he actually did want to die because you were being forced to admit something you didn't want to...something he could feel that did mean something to you by the way you looked at him....something that was about to hurt you again because of him that now involved Legolas whom you cared for deeply...and he never wanted you to be put in such a position. That's how much he loved you.

You stretched up on your tippy toes and pulled the towering vampire down to you, then quickly laid your lips over his. Garrett's cool lips and maple scented breath flowing from his nose made you weak in the knees, causing you to release him....but you froze just inches from his mouth as you both gazed into each other's eyes. You wanted to kiss him again and his eyes screamed for you to do it...and so you did, this time softly and deeply as you laid your hand upon his chilled cheek. Your mouths slowly opened, sealing together as your body pushed into his. It was as if no one else existed in that moment but you and him.

The vines began to unravel off of Garrett and Legolas both as the elf gaped at your lip lock in shock. Once you felt the vines moving, you forced yourself away from Garrett, in disbelief of your actions and of how it made you feel....Both of you couldn't take your eyes off of each other.

And then you looked at a crushed Legolas who could barely bring his eyes to yours...

and then your eyes flowed back to Garrett, not knowing what to say or do. The way Legolas looked at you was a look you would never forget.

The Seelie Queen though, she grinned from ear to ear for she knew her plan had succeeded with flying colors....for she now ignorantly believed she had a chance with the new King of Mirkwood and that could only spell trouble for him.

Legolas turned and slowly walked out with his head lowered.

"Legolas!!! WAIT!!!"

You ran to him and took his hand.

"Please...please wait....please let me..."

"You do not need to do this."

"Yes, yes I do...What just happened...it..it didn't mean anything. Your life was at risk. I..I had to kiss Garrett, I had no choice."

"I know. I was standing right there, remember? This is not about you kissing him. The Seelie Queen made you reveal who you desired most and it was not me, it was Garrett."

"It's a trick. That's all it was."

"Be honest with me Josie."

"I am...You said yourself the Seelie's, they thrive on getting inside your head."

"Josie stop. Don't make this harder than it already is because you don't want to hurt my feelings."

"What do you want me to do Legolas...just tell me?" you said and began to cry.

"Look me in the eyes and tell me you do not have any feelings for him."

You stood speechless as your tears fell. Even Legolas's eyes were beginning to glisten...and he quickly turned away. You quickly went to him and made him look at you as you sobbed.

"Look at me...Legolas...I...I love you..."

"Don't do that!"

"Why??!"

"Because you don't mean it the way that I mean it!...and you never will. For so long, I have been in love with you, every minute of every day. You are the first thing I think of when I awake. If the Seelie Queen had asked me that question, kiss the one I most desired, no one would even come close to you....there's something between you and Garrett and you cannot deny it."

"I..I...I...don't know...maybe, but Legolas...it's nothing like you and me..." you insisted as you took his hands.

"But it's enough...enough for me to know. Kissing you, telling you I loved you, wanting to be more than friends....it..it was a mistake."

Legolas gently pushed your hands back and pulled his free from yours, then turned to Garrett.

"If my father were here in this little game, we both would never have had a chance. Something for you to think about....I'm sure Garrett can get you home safely....wherever that even is anymore..."

Legolas then left you standing there in a disarray of mascara streaked cheeks and erratic gasps from crying so hard.

Garrett tried to comfort you and took your hand.

"Josephine...I...I'm..."

"Don't...." you snapped and yanked your hand away. "I need to get back to my daughter..."

You then stormed out as Garrett lowered his head with a sigh, then followed you.

The fires raged through Jareth's kingdom atop the mountain as dragons still soared about in a frenzy while two onlookers sat by the dark forest's edge enjoying the view of the goblin king's crashing empire.

"How do they put it Marius? Karma is a....witch?" Lestat chuckled with a wicked grin.

"Indeed it is. One burnt fortress for another."

"I could not believe my ears when I heard the hymn no one dares to play...or should I say, no one knows how to play, except I."

"And no one plays as well as you if I might add. Although, I can think of the only other one who could do all."

Lestat gazed into the blazing inferno. "Yes. I thought the same thing as well, but we know that is not possible since he is gone so that leaves me to wonder....who did this? I would personally like to shake their hand and take them out for...dinner and....drinks."

"Yes. Whomever it was has a mighty skilled hand and a hatred for Jareth...and I must say, they also have some big balls. With so many dragons, that person's balls might be burnt marshmallows now."

"Yes....big balls indeed." Lestat curiously said as he narrowed his eyes in deep thought.

"Something is bothering you?"

"Yes. Some things just don't add up. But there is no time to ponder on that now, for we have been spotted. I think it's time to fly."

A gargantuan dragon towered over the blazing castle and glowered down at the two sitting ducks, then dove after them.

Marius and Lestat zipped off with the dragon in hot pursuit. Although the beastly serpents were capable of great speeds, they could not match that of a vampire.

The dragon gave up and went back to his perch, continuing his reign of fire. As the two vamps made their way to the other side of the kingdom, Lestat halted in mid air and hovered, leering down at something that glowed from the fire's light. He then swan dived to the ground to see what the object was as Marius reluctantly followed.

"I prefer not to find myself a roasted marshmallow like the other fool probably is. What on earth are you doing?"

Lestat eyed the object with a tilted head as he neared it, then picked it up. It was the splintered violin Thranduil had almost taken Raven's head off with.

"Well now, would you look at this. How do you propose it ended up in this predicament?"

"My guess would be that a dragon used it as a toothpick after he ate the player." Marius stated with a serious face.

"There is blood on it."

Lestat brought his nose to it and took in a deep whiff.

"Well I'll be damned...or should I say Raven is."

Marius excitedly clapped his hands like a child. "Shall we sing ding dong the witch is dead?"

"One could only hope that is the case."

Lestat's grin fell flat when he picked up another familiar scent on the in tact bow.

"It..it cannot be..." he whispered, as his previous suspicions danced through his mind.

Marius sucked in a whiff as well from where he stood and slightly gasped.

"The Elvenking........"

@redeemer46

[etherealmoonbow]

The Hobbit - The company x child reader - Part 2

Hello everyone! Do you remember this fic about the company and a child reader? Well I wrote a part two like 2 months ago and never posted it🤦🏻‍♀️ This time I used both Khuzdul (dwarvish) and Sindar (elvish) languages, the translations are below.

Sorry I haven’t posted anything for the last days, I have been inactive for some time, but here it is and hope you like it! 💖

Part 1 is over here 👈🏻 Part 3 is here 👈🏻 Part 4 is here 👈🏻 Part 5 is here  👈🏻 Part 6  

Summary: The dwarfs are still trapped in Mirkwood, how little (y/n) will react in a realm full of elves and some angry dwarfs?

“Take the child away” ordered sternly the Elvenking Thranduil to one of the elves in armor. I turned my head sharply when I saw an elf that was giving long strides towards me.

But the same elleth that saved Kili and me before (the one with beautiful red hair) stopped the elf placing herself between both of us.

“No, you will not take the child” she said sharply.

“Avo garo am man theled?, it’s an order from the king” the elf responded almost growling.

“An order that I am going to fulfill myself” she said defiantly.

The other elf looked into her eyes for some seconds and then took some steps back. It seems the elleth held great authority between the elves, or at least she had won their respect.

The red haired elleth turned around to look at me and smiled sympathetically. I smiled back at her, she seemed nice. “Come child” she said offering me her hand which after some moments of hesitation I took.

Then the elven soldiers pushed roughly forward into the throne room Thorin, Fili, and Kili. And the blond haired ellon who dragged me earlier into the room placed a knife near Kili’s throat.

“Don’t harm him!” I yelled with my tiny voice. “Gamut ai-menu (y/n)” said Kili in a tense tone, trying to move back from the pointy dagger.

“Tauriel, would you take away NOW the irritant creature?” Commanded the king in a booming voice that made me flinch. “Yes my king” she said with a bow and dragged me alongside her, holding tightly my hand.

I followed her with my little steps, but I turned to look back at the dwarfs. I felt tears threatening to start falling down. I didn’t wanted to be away from Thorin, Fili, or Kili, they were my only family now.

When we were out of the throne room, the elleth slowed down her pace, she directed me down the halls of Mirkwood and into the dungeons again. But when we were about to arrive a sob escaped from me.

I was trying hard to repress my feelings, because I didn’t wanted to look weak in front of the elves. I didn’t wanted them to see how scared I was. But it seems my emotions were gaining power over me.

The elleth heard my sniffing and stopped walking, she turned quickly to face me. I looked at her with watery eyes, tears already running down my small and soft cheeks.

"Oh child don't cry" she said kneeling in front of me. "You have nothing to fear. King Thranduil might look angry but he will never hurt a child". She said placing both hands on each of my shoulders.

“I am preoccupied for my friends...” I said in between tears. “I have already lost many people... and I do not want to lose them...too” I explained sniffing, looking down at my feet.

Suddenly the elleth hugged me, and it felt strangely comforting. “I know how you feel” she whispered into my ear. “But you need to be strong for them” she continued pulling away. “Do you will do that for them?” She questioned looking at me, waiting for my answer. “Ye...Yes...” I whimpered.

“Now, can you tell me your name?” The elleth asked. “My name is (y/n)” I responded cleaning my tears with the back of my small hands. “Well (y/n) I need to take you back to the dungeons.” The elleth explained.

I lowered my face down, “not again to the dungeons” I thought, I didn’t wanted to be caged on a cell. “But I guarantee you’ll be fine” The red haired elleth added as she stood up again and picked me up from the floor. We both made our way back to the dungeons.

“(y/n) is back!” I heard Ori as me and the elleth approached the cells. “Child are you hurt!” shouted Dwalin from one of the cells. “rasup men!” I shouted back as I hugged the elleth’s neck.

I observed in each of the dungeons’ cells were my friends, and I could sense how preoccupied and angry they were for being stuck in this place.

We soon arrived to an empty cell, the elleth placed me down and opened the door with the keys. “My name is Tauriel” she said. “Take this child you must be hungry” she continued taking out a package from her pocket. I saw the package was wrapped in some delicate silver-edged leaves, the elleth handed it to me.

I slowly unwrapped the package and I found a very strange food. “It’s lembas, it’s similar to bread, you can eat it” she said gesturing for me to eat the food. I took a small bite and tasted it in my mouth. “It’s good” I said chewing. I didn’t knew elves could prepare good food. I probably grew costumed to eat Bombur’s stew.

“I’m glad you liked it, now go in, sit here and wait for your friends” she said pointing to the cell. I entered and took a sit on the hard stone. Tauriel closed the door and locked it. “You’ll be fine” she said offering me a sympathetic smile and then she left swiftly.

“(y/n)” I heard a voice calling for me from the cell beside mine. I stood up and made my way towards the door. “Who is it?” I asked distrustful. “Beag hrun it’s me, Bofur”, “Bofur!” I exclaimed relived wrapping my little hands between the bars and trying to look outside the cell.

“Did the Elvenking hurt you? Did you told something to him?” He asked worriedly. “I didn’t say a word to that arrogant khulum” I huffed annoyed, thinking of him made me irritated.

“And are you sure he didn’t hurt you?” He asked again concerned. “No, but I am afraid that he might do to Thorin, or even to Fili and Kili” I responded back preoccupied.

“Let’s hope not child..., we need to have faith” Bofur said, “Now rest, you must be tired” he continued. “Seadh” I sighed letting go the bars of the cell and sitting again on the cold stone floor.

I closed my eyes and attempted to sleep. I felt lonely and vulnerable, a feeling I didn’t had since... I lost my parents. That feelings disappeared when Fili or Kili or even when Thorin was around, but they weren’t by my side right now and that only made me feel even lonelier.

When I was starting to get sleepy I heard a familiar voice coming down the dungeons’ halls.

"Where did you took (y/n)!" I quickly opened my eyes.

“Shut up dwarf!”

"Why don't you say anything, what you did to the little one."

The voices kept arguing, each time I heard their footsteps coming closer and closer, until they stopped in front of my cell.

"Fili!" I yelled relived when I saw it was him.

The elves roughly threw him inside the cell. “If you want to be with the brat so much, here you are! enjoy their nasty company” the two elves who dragged Fili earlier growled and they left quickly.

“(y/n)!” Fili said giving me a tight hug. “You are back” I mumbled against him. “I was worried about you” he said pulling me closer. “Me too..., I thought the king was going to hurt you..., I thought I was never going to see you again” I said looking up to him.

Fili’s expression softened and he kneeled in front of me, he placed a hand on my shoulder and grabbed my little hand tightly. “No king is going to separate us little (y/n), I would never permit that” he said with pure sincerity.

“You promise?” I asked with hope. “I promise” he said placing a soft kiss on my forehead.

The time passed and we were still on the creepy dungeons of Mirkwood, and I could hear at the distance a celebration. Laughter and voices echoed in the distance, probably the elves were celebrating something.

I moved up from my sit beside Fili and gave a few steps. Being trapped was extremely boring. As I looked outside the cell door I saw something I never thought I was going to see in my entire life.

Kili was talking with Tauriel. The only nice elleth in the whole Mirkwood realm.

“Fili” I whispered. “What happens?” Mumbled Fili almost asleep. “I think Kili is in love” I responded looking at how Tauriel and Kili exchanged words. “What do you mean?” He said shifting his position to get comfortable, even though there wasn’t any comfortable position to find in the cold floor.

“He is talking with a beautiful elleth” I explained to him. “(y/n)... that doesn’t mean he is in love” he said in a low voice, drifting back to sleep.

“But he is looking at her with an strange expression..., almost... admiring her” I said looking back at Fili who now raised his head to look at me. “Are you sure it’s an admiration face? Probably she is threatening him” he responded again, “I am sure” I confirmed.

I looked back outside the cell and I noticed the blond ellon who dragged me into the throne room earlier. “Prince Legolas of Mirkwood” was looking at both Kili and Tauriel from the upper part of the dungeons.

“And I think Kili got competence” I stated judging the way he was looking at both.

“(y/n) stop watching my poor brother and come with me” Fili said lifting up an arm, inviting me to seat beside him. I turned around and made my way to Fili. I sat beside him and rested my head on his shoulder.

Again for the 12th time the dwarfs started to complain about how horrible was being trapped in the dungeons of the Elvenking, they even made a comment on how Lord Elrond was a better elf than he was.

“I want to get out of here” I whispered in a low voice so only Fili could hear me. “We will find the way” Fili muttered back.

“You are not trapped in here” suddenly I heard Bilbo’s voice and stood up surprised and looked outside the cell. “Bilbo!” shouted Balin relived.

Bilbo showed the keys and the dwarfs started to cheer. “Shh! there are guards near here” warned Bilbo in an attempt to calm the dwarfs down.

“Bilbo you are here!” I cheered happily as he opened the the cell’s door. When he opened the door I ran tu hug him. “How did you obtained the keys?” I asked curiously.

“Oh.. ah.... we...well, That’s a story I would tell you later little one, first we need to get out of here.” Bilbo said moving away to free the rest of the dwarfs.

“Follow me” Bilbo said and soon all of us started to follow his steps through Mirkwood’s halls.

Translations:

Sindar: Avo garo am man theled? - Why not?

Khuzdul: Gamut ai-menu - I am good, rasup men - I am ok, khulum - elf, seadh - yes, beag hrun - little one.

Tags: @iwenttomordor @elarinya-nailo

[smaidjor]

and i pay for my place by the ring (Chapter 2)

This chapter took me so fucking long but after much struggle I have completed it!

It was supposed to be 3-4k words. It was exactly 6069 pre-editing according to google docs.

You're welcome.

Chapter Title: with your blessing i will go

Chapter Wordcount: 6073

Content warnings: suicidal thoughts, self-esteem issues, discussion of death, non-graphic injury.

AO3

Chapter 1

i know they're losing (companion fic)

Actual fic under the cut:

The next few weeks are miserable, and if Scott tried to claim anything else, he would absolutely be lying to himself. Not that he doesn’t already do that, but he’s not too proud to admit that not seeing Jimmy is torturous. He knows he can’t, he’s firmly placed Jimmy on the off-limits list, but that doesn’t make the self-imposed rule any easier to follow. There’s still a part of him that wants to go running back to Jimmy’s arms, to beg for forgiveness and pray that Jimmy’s warmth is enough to curb the chill in his bones.

Scott shoves that part of him down firmly. He has no time to hesitate or regret, and he will not spend his days pining and sighing over a human. (Or so he tells himself.) He will be the perfect model of an elven king if that’s what it takes to gain his people’s respect, and he will make his parents proud, not that they’re around to see it. He will . Because Scott may not care about what the Council of Elders thinks of him- he hasn’t for twenty years now- but he does care that the people of Rivendell get a leader who cares for their wellbeing. It’s the least he can do, really.

So he takes on the meetings and the paperwork and the aching, gaping hole in his chest with grim determination, ignoring the way his hands always seem to shake a little and he can never quite get warm. It’s fine. Scott is fine. He’s not going to think about golden smiles or warm brown eyes or the look on Jimmy’s face when Scott told him it was over. He’s fine .

Flipping through the stack of official mail he’s received, Scott’s startled when his hand falls on an elegant cream envelope stamped with the crest of the Ocean Empire. How long has this been here? He hurries to get it open, nearly slicing himself on the letter opener in the process.

Out slides an official invitation in neat cursive.

To High King Scott Dangthatsalongname Smajor, Lord King of the Rivendell Empire,

You are cordially invited to a royal ball to be held at the palace of Ocean Queen Lizzie Ldshadowlady, Queen of the Northern Waves and Reefs, at 8 pm on the fifth of August.

Formal attire is required.

RSVP as soon as possible.

At the bottom of it, there’s a note in slightly more rushed handwriting.

Smajor- elvenking or not, I will not appreciate it if you mess with Jimmy in any way, shape or form. This ball is to be a peaceful affair, and I will not hesitate to intervene should anything occur.

Lizzie

Scott winces. He...can’t say he doesn’t deserve the warning, any more than he can say that it doesn’t hurt to be warned away from his own husband. Ex-husband, he quickly reminds himself, reaching for stationary to pen a response.

Dear Ocean Queen Lizzie Ldshadowlady, Queen of the Northern Waves and Reefs,

He stops, giving it a bit of thought. Would avoiding Jimmy be worth the political consequences of refusing an invitation like this? No, he concedes reluctantly, it wouldn’t. He can always just avoid Jimmy at the ball- Lizzie would probably be happy for it, honestly. She’s been protective over him from the start. Scott puts the pen back to paper.

Luckily, I will be able to attend the ball. It sounds like a wonderful event and I eagerly anticipate it. As for your note, I will avoid antagonizing Jimmy as much as possible. I would hate to sacrifice diplomatic relations between our kingdoms for a petty squabble. Will that be satisfactory?

Sincerely,

High King Scott Dangthatsalongname Smajor

What’s going on between him and Jimmy is far more than a petty squabble, but Lizzie doesn’t need to know that. It’s fine. It’s not like he’s going to run into Jimmy anyways, right?

The day of the ball arrives, and Scott spends far too long choosing an outfit. He’s not vain, not usually, but...Jimmy will be there. You’re not supposed to want to impress him , Scott scolds himself, but that doesn’t stop him from wearing his nicest golden jewelry. The rest of his outfit is far more strategically planned- long skirts to hide how terrible his balance is when he’s near-constantly struggling to get a full breath into his lungs, gloves to keep his dance partners from questioning his cold hands.

The ball is already in full swing by the time he arrives, the trip from Rivendell taking longer than he thought it would. He’s still greeted by the Ocean Queen herself, though, gliding over in her stunning ballgown of blue and green.

“Welcome!” Her smile is bright, warm in a way he almost envies.

Scott dips his head just enough to be respectful but not so much as to truly defer to her. He thinks that’s right, anyways; he hasn’t had to think about that particular part of etiquette lessons in some twenty years. “Thank you, Queen Lizzie. I apologize for my lateness, the trip was a bit harrowing.”

“No problem at all, I just hope you enjoy the ball!” Lizzie’s smile gains a sharper edge. “I appreciated your letter, by the way. Thank you for your promise to keep it civil, King Smajor. Now we just all have to follow through on our words!” She accompanies that bit with a little laugh, but Scott’s not a fool enough to take it as anything but a warning. She doesn’t want trouble at her ball, and who would, really?

“Hopefully we can manage at least that,” he offers wryly, earning another laugh and a bright “Hopefully!”

Scott doesn’t mean to cause trouble at the ball, he really doesn’t. But before he has a chance to even get a look around, Jimmy’s standing in front of him. And oh, this really isn’t how he hoped it’d go.

“Lord Codfather,” Scott greets, swallowing the lump in his throat. Jimmy cleans up nicely- really nicely- but Scott’s eyes keep going to the scar on his throat, the permanent reminder of how fragile and mortal Jimmy really is.

“Elvenking,” Jimmy says. The formality sounds awkward in his bright voice, and Scott wants to kiss the uncertainty right off his face. “Care for a dance?”

He can’t- he should, Scott knows. There would be value to an alliance with Jimmy, and he has no good reason to turn him down. That’s not why he says yes, though. It’s that look in Jimmy’s eyes, the hope poorly disguised by indifference. He’s so optimistic. Scott shouldn't encourage it, but he can’t find it in himself to break that fragile hope just yet.

“I suppose I wouldn’t mind,” Scott says finally. He takes Jimmy’s outstretched hand in his own gloved one; Vilya rests on Jimmy’s finger, still, and it’s a battle to keep the memories of giving Jimmy that ring at bay. He wins that battle, though, letting Jimmy put a hand on his waist as they start into a simple waltz.

Jimmy is a terrible dancer, and Scott knows it. He steps on Scott’s feet, he gets off-rhythm- he’s frankly not made for dancing, much as the way he hums along to the tune is adorable. His hair, which was probably once nicely styled, has already fallen out of place, and his tunic is a little wrinkled. His hands are rough, tough from all the work he does with them, and his face has a tiny bit of mud on it that he must have missed when getting ready. He looks very much like a sweet little swamp boy, out of place in the midst of all the more elegant and powerful rulers.

He’s the most beautiful thing Scott’s ever seen.

Unlike the last time they danced, back in 3rd life where Jimmy leaned on Scott for balance as he tried to learn the complicated steps, this time it’s Scott clinging to Jimmy for stability. He feels bad about how harsh his grip gets, but he can’t afford to show weakness. He has to stay on his feet.

Scott’s silently thankful when the dance ends and he can lead them off the dance floor. He’s exhausted and shaky, and he’s not sure how much longer he can be around Jimmy without breaking down or doing something very stupid.

“Thank you for the dance, Codfather,” Scott says. He takes a step back, banishing the lingering emotion of their dance.

A beat of silence, and then.

“Can we please stop acting like we don’t know each other?” Jimmy demands, earning a ripple of gasps from nearby guests.

“What else do you want from me?” Scott snaps back, anger rising to fill the gap in his chest.

“I- something! Anything! Just acknowledge that I exist, won’t you?”

Scott swallows down the lump in his throat. “Acknowledging you exist doesn’t mean I can still be in love with you, you know.”

“I know,” Jimmy says. He sounds so bitter, so tired. “I know , trust me. I just want you to stop- to stop hurting yourself to try and avoid pain!”

“That’s not what I’m do-”

Jimmy cuts him off, a rare occurrence. “Then what are you doing? Enlighten me, o wise elf! You told me it would destroy you to lose me, but you’re losing me now by pushing me away!”

His chest tightens, and he can barely force the words out. “I’m trying to do what’s best for the both of us, Jimmy.”

“No you’re-”

It’s Scott’s turn to cut him off. “I am an elf, and I cannot love a mortal. Humans are quick flames, burning and changing quickly. You’ll fall in love again, and you’ll forget me.” It hurts, but it’s true. There will be a mortal who loves you- I’m sure there are many already.” Jimmy’s so wonderful, there are bound to be others who see it.

“But I don’t want a mortal,” Jimmy says. It’s almost childish, but his next words still break Scott’s heart. “I want you. ”

“You can’t have me.” Scott is vividly aware of the fact that there are eyes on him, that their little spat has attracted the attention of the rest of the ballroom.

“But why? Why, Scott?” Jimmy’s voice breaks, and the crack in it is damn near enough to make Scott lose his tiny bit of remaining self-control. “You said you loved me, you promised me all the time we’d be able to- to carve out, to steal from the universe.” It sounds like an accusation, and maybe it is. Scott did promise him that, after all, and then he went back on it.

It wasn’t for no reason, though. He needs Jimmy to understand that it was for a reason. “I can’t give you that!” He snaps back, and his hands tremble when they try to form fists by his side. “You’ll live sixty more years, maybe, a fraction of my life, a blink of an eye to an elf, and I can’t even give you that long! Not when I have to be the elvenking before anything else. Nothing I can do will ever be enough for you.” It’s bitter, but it’s true. Scott can’t be enough for anyone, in the end.

“Enough for me? For ME?”Jimmy’s voice rises in outrage. “All I want is for you not to die to your own dumb plan and acknowledge my existence once in a while!”

Scott’s voice rises in response. “And all I want is for you to realize I can’t love you again!”

“Why can’t you care about me?”

“Why can’t you move on?”

“You’re not moving on, you’re just trying to forget!” Jimmy shouts.

Scott falls silent, breathing hard as the ballroom goes quiet around them. He spots Lizzie sweeping through the crowd, coming to a stop next to Jimmy.

“Is everything alright, boys?” She’s smiling, but it’s strained, and her eyes promise death if this quarrel was Scott’s fault.

“My apologies, Ocean Queen,” he says, and he tries to gather his composure as he dips his head to her. “Everything is alright, but I am afraid I will have to leave early.” He doesn’t look at Jimmy.

She smiles again, dangerous this time. “No need to worry, Lord Smajor. Do try to avoid picking fights with my allies, next time, though.”

“It won’t happen again,” he promises, and he only nearly stumbles when he turns to leave.

Distantly, he can hear Jimmy shout after him. “Coward!” The word is harsh, but there’s hurt beneath it. “You’re a coward, Scott!”

Scott stumbles away all the quicker.

He keeps composed all the way out the doors and most of the way down the stairs until he’s sure no one can see him from the ballroom. It’s only then that he breaks into a run, lifting up his stupid skirts so he doesn’t fall. One shoe falls off, a twisted parody of a children’s fairy tale, and he doesn’t bother to retrieve it. The prismarine stabs at his exposed foot, but Scott doesn’t have the energy to care. Instead, he beats his wings, trying to get enough momentum for a good takeoff.

For a few precious moments, he gets off the ground, and then he remembers Jimmy’s face as he left, wingbeats stuttering with the sudden emotion, and tumbles back to the rough prismarine path. It hurts , it does, but it’s nothing on the pain in his chest. Nothing on the words still echoing in his head. Coward! You’re a coward, Scott!

Scott lays there for a moment, half-wondering if anyone’s coming after him. It’s unlikely, he knows, given how badly he messed things up. He tells himself that that’s a good thing, that he doesn’t want anyone to come looking. He doesn’t need them. He should be strong.

Before anyone has time to notice or be concerned, he’s forced himself back to his feet, starting the takeoff sequence all over again.

This time, he gets in the air with little difficulty, though he lists to the side as he favors his right wing, which took the brunt of the fall. It’s fine. He’s fine, he doesn’t need help.

If Scott believed in the elven gods anymore, he would thank them for the fact that he gets back to Rivendell at all. There are tears blurring his vision, and every part of his body aches, his chest most of all. His flight is shaky at best, outright dangerous at worst, crashing into trees and rocks and the ground multiple times. Each time, he barely picks himself back up before mobs arrive. Sometimes, he questions if he should at all. He’s as good as dead anyways. And yet, the tiny stubborn part of him that got him through 3rd life won’t let him just lay down and die. For some reason, even though he’s slept enough recently (he thinks, anyways), there are phantoms on him. They sense when their prey is sleep-deprived, Scott knows, and wonders if he’s just weak enough to seem that way to them.

By the time he crash-lands on the mountainside, it’s pushing two in the morning, and Scott is more dead than alive. Not that he hasn’t been for a while now, he thinks, and laughs aloud to himself, bitter.

The night watch give him strange looks, but both elves on guard duty obligingly dip their heads when he stumbles by. He barely musters the energy to nod back.

Finally he makes it back to his house, slamming his door behind him and burying his face in his hands. This is the right thing to do, why does it hurt so much? He already lost Jimmy once, why does it feel like he’s losing him all over again when he never really got him back in the first place?

Someone coughs lightly, breaking through his thoughts. The voice is familiar when they speak- one of his advisors. “Lord Smajor? Any major events we should know of at the ball?”

Cold. Calm. Scott knows this is the way of the elves- their royalty cannot dare be human. “The Codfather’s our enemy and the Ocean Queen probably hates us too.” He doesn’t bother trying to make himself sound calm and collected, pushing off the wall and stalking towards the stairs.

“What?” The advisor’s voice pitches up in shock. “What did you do?”

“None of your business.”

“You cannot have embarrassed the elven realm at the largest event of the year-”

“It wasn’t like I was fucking trying to,” He snaps.

A gasp. “Language.”

“Fuck off.”

They hurry after him, making to follow him up the stairs. “Lord Smajor-”

Scott turns to face them, taking in the shock and rage painted across their ancient face. “Leave me be.”

“Do not disrespect your elders,” the advisor scolds. “I remember when you were a child, you always were reckless, but this is a new level of disrespect! Why, Xornoth would never-”

“ Enough ,” he hisses. “Do not talk about my sibling.”

They freeze, a bit of genuine fear creeping onto their face. “My lord-”

“Get out of my house,” Scott snarls.

They wisely obey. Scott slumps against the banister as the surge of adrenaline abates, suddenly exhausted. He’s freezing, he realizes, a bone-deep chill that he doesn’t bother to pretend is from his trip home. Scott’s done lying to himself- he’s in pain, and he’s in love, but then again, those equate to roughly the same thing when all’s said and done. You can’t have heartbreak without love or love without heartbreak. (But oh how he wishes he could.)

Scott doesn’t get out of bed the next day, and no one dares try to force him. Varying members of Rivendell’s Council of Elders make a decent shot at trying to convince him, but all it takes is him fixing them with his dead-eyed stare to make them leave. The people of Rivendell are used to their ruler’s odd sleep schedule by now, brushing it off easily, and the empire itself is mostly functional without him. So instead of getting up and dealing with the corruption or making sure Rivendell’s stores are prepared for winter or any of the things he should be doing, Scott lays there in his own misery and thinks about Jimmy screaming that he’s a coward.

He’s right, that’s the worst part. Scott is a coward. He’s scared of Xornoth and the corruption and never, ever being enough, he’s scared of responsibility and his own mind, he’s scared of fading and dying alone, and- most of all- he’s absolutely terrified of how much he loves Jimmy.

His father warned him about fading, once, back before Scott was expected to carry a crown on his brow and the weight of a nation on his shoulders. He bounced Scott on his knee and told him that elven hearts are fragile, too fragile for how strongly they love. “Don’t fall too deep in love, son,” he said, and the words carried the weight of years of grief. “Don’t care too much about any one person, not if you want to live to be a legend of the ages. Doesn’t matter what kind of love it is, love can be lethal.”

Scott didn’t listen, of course- reckless, rebellious Scott, who never once listened to his elders, went and did the most dangerous thing an elf could do. He fell in love with a human.

And now he’s dying. Surely that gives him a pass to wallow in his own misery for a day or two. He’s been brave for so long, can’t he just rest a few moments? Just...just a few. He’ll just lay here a bit longer.

At that moment, the front door creaks open somewhere below him.

“My lord? Can I come up?” Someone calls from below. Their voice is also familiar- Gilnar. Gilnar’s a good captain of the guard. Dutiful, clever, and far more willing to respect him than most of Rivendell’s high ranking elves.

“If you’ve come to convince me to get up, it won’t work,” Scott calls back.

Gilnar’s head peeks over the railing a moment later. “Nope, not here for that. Just thought I’d check in, y’know?” The Sindarin words sound almost musical in their accent, rolling up and down with a unique sort of rhythm.

“Alright.”

“Are you okay, my lord?”

“No.” He’s done lying. “Leave me be.”

Gilnar shakes their head. “Sorry, my lord, can’t do that.”

“If you’re going to tell me my people need me, don’t waste your breath. I know .” Scott’s voice cracks on the last word, just a little.

“Not that either. But with all due respect, seems a little like you’re givin’ up on yourself just a bit, my lord.” They lean against the railing.

“What do you mean by that?”

They cough, a little awkwardly. “The soul-sickness. The fading.”

Scott’s mouth opens and closes, and he sputters. “How-”

“Trainin’ with the royal guard a few weeks back, your hands were freezin’ and your balance was off. You haven’t gotten up at a reasonable hour in weeks, and, well, with all due respect- I know what heartbreak looks like.”

He’s silent for a moment, utterly floored. “What do you mean by giving up?”

“Well, Lauriel and I were talkin’, and….your love’s still alive, isn’t he? The Codfather?”

“How did you-”

Gilnar flashes him a tiny grin. “He’s not subtle, and neither are you. Plus, he has Vilya.”

Deciding to shove that to the back of his mind for now, Scott sighs. “He’s a mortal, Gilnar. I’m not giving up anything that I won’t already lose in sixty years or so.”

“Luthien loved Beren, didn’t she?”

“I am not Luthien. I cannot sing so well that the gods grant me pardon.”

“And Idril loved Tuor.”

“I am not Idril. I cannot bring Jimmy to the Undying Lands.”

“Arwen still loved Aragorn.”

“I am not Arwen. I do not have the choice to give up my immortal life.”

Gilnar’s smile turns sad. “Caranthir still loved Haleth. And Celebrimbor loved Narvi just the same, didn’t he? The doomed love all the more fiercely, my lord.”

“The rest of the elves won’t be happy with me,” Scott points out.

“You think Thingol and Turgon and Elrond were happy when their daughters loved mortals? You think Luthien’s people didn’t scorn Beren at first?”

Scott doesn’t have any retort to that, and Gilnar hops up from their seat on the banister. “Well, I need to get back to my duties, my lord. Good luck with your swamp boy!”

They’re gone as soon as they arrive, and Scott stares up at the ceiling, his thoughts dragging him along a spiral of emotion.

“Coward! You’re a coward, Scott!”

Scott is a coward. He’s a liar and a coward. Nothing he does will ever be right.

“Don’t fall too deep in love, son.”

Scott did, though. Like the idiot he is, he fell in love with someone the universe didn’t want him to have.

“Caranthir still loved Haleth.”

He did. And he paid for it. Does it matter? Scott thinks that losing Jimmy might be a price worth paying for the joy of loving him.

“You cannot have embarrassed the elven realm at the largest event of the year-”

Scott didn’t mean to, but he still messed up and shouted at Jimmy. He’s a failure. Jimmy could do better. He deserves better.

“I don’t want a mortal. I want you .”

Jimmy’s so stupid. Stupid Codfather with his stupid bright eyes and stupid, stupid insistence on not giving up on someone he should never have loved to begin with. Scott loves him so much more than he could ever put into words.

“With all due respect, seems a little like you’re givin’ up on yourself just a bit, my lord.”

Jimmy deserves an apology. Scott won’t give up.

(Not on Jimmy, anyways.)

It takes him nearly a month of furious work to make the precious mithril bracelet, refining it over and over again. He picks the flowers and their meanings carefully- love, hope, protection- and the crystals too. Amethysts for protection, carefully traded for filled with any bit of magic he can spare for them. The lettering carved into the underside is yet another layer of blessings and meaning; he does it in Quenya, the Tengwar script, which Scott knows Jimmy can’t read. He has to look up how to write in it after so many years of never so much as looking at elven script, pouring over old books by candlelight. By day, he rules an empire, relying on the rush of adrenaline and motivation to carry him through even on the days when he’s swaying on his feet by the end. By night, he works on a courtship project like none he’s made before until at last, at nearly three in the morning one night, it’s finished.

It’s not the most beautiful it could have been. Scott isn’t one of the great Noldor smiths of old, he’s just an elf in love. His hands are perpetually shaky nowadays, and he has limited time to work on it between every other responsibility in his life. But every centimeter of it is handmade with all the care he could muster, and that has to count for something.

Scott hardly wants to wait to give it to Jimmy, but he forces himself to try and wait for morning. His anxiety doesn’t let him sleep much, exhausted as he is, but he curls up under the covers and stares at the bracelet on his nightstand. He doesn’t want to take his eyes off it, half-convinced it will vanish if he does. Eventually, his eyes slide shut of their own will, carrying him into an uneasy sleep.

He wakes up long after the sun's risen, staggering out of bed and throwing on a cloak for the journey to Jimmy’s. The cold that he’s been banishing with the warmth of a forge has returned tenfold, and he’s shivering despite elves normally being resistant to chills. When he takes a glance at himself in the mirror, he finds that his hair is out of place, there’s a streak of ink across his cheek, and the dark circles under his eyes look like bruises. He looks a mess, and he doesn’t care. Jimmy is all that matters now.

The journey’s both long and rough, and his landing in the swamp is more like a frantic swan dive out of the sky. Luckily, though, the ground is soft here, and Scott’s able to pick himself up and hurry for Jimmy’s house, ignoring the stares of a few Codland citizens. He knocks, heart in his throat as he waits for the door to open.

The hinges squeak, and suddenly Jimmy’s standing there, a mix of emotions that Scott doesn’t even want to try and comprehend scattered across his face. He looks a little sleepy despite the fact that it must be near noon, and so very sweet with his hair falling in his face. The sight of him knocks the air right out of Scott’s lungs, and he has to struggle to remember why he’s here again for a long moment as they stare at each other.

“Hi,” Scott says weakly.

“Scott? What- why are you here?” Jimmy sounds outraged, and Scott can’t blame him.

Scott swallows hard. “I came to apologize.” His tired brain scrambles for words, something, anything to convey how truly sorry he is. “I was scared- I am scared. I’m terrified to lose you again. But I shouldn’t have pushed you away and hurt you.”

“No, you shouldn’t have!” Jimmy snaps.

“I know.” God, he didn’t expect it to hurt this much to hear the rage in Jimmy’s voice. “I- uh- fuck.” Scott fumbles to get the box he put the bracelet in, holding it out. “I brought a gift as an apology.”

Jimmy’s silent for a long moment, examining the bracelet. Scott barely dares breathe as he turns it over and over in his hands, tracing the flower designs with his fingertips. “Did you make this yourself?”

“Mhm. I did my best, but it’s not as nice as I’d like.” And, well, isn’t that just the story of his life?

“It’s pretty,” Jimmy says. He sounds genuine.

Scott lets out a breath, letting some of the tension go. “It’s spelled, too. Protection, good fortune, that sort of thing.”

“Do the flowers mean something?”

“They do.”

Jimmy doesn’t press for details.

“I-” Scott starts, and then pauses. What does he say? An apology would be a start, maybe. “I’m sorry, Jimmy, I really am. I won’t ask you to forgive me, but I needed to apologize before my time ran out.” It’s the truth, as wholly as he can bear to give it.

“Is it that- that dire?” Jimmy’s voice shakes a little, and Scott gives a tiny nod.

“This is what I chose to do with it. Making that, coming here. You deserved an apology.”

Jimmy goes quiet again. His eyes are still on the bracelet, and Scott can hardly breathe again.

Finally, he can’t take the tension. “It wouldn’t be fair of me to ask you to love me. I can’t promise you eternity. I can’t promise you happiness. I can’t promise you that I won’t have to be the elvenking first and a husband second. But I am still yours-” he’s always been, really- “if you’ll have me.”

The silence that falls after that is even more stifling than the previous two. Scott doesn’t expect Jimmy to want him back- far from it. He’s putting his heart in Jimmy’s hands, but he doesn’t expect anything other than it shattering on the floor. Maybe Jimmy will be kind enough to let him down gently, but Scott’s fragile enough that it would only take a tiny nudge to break him. And yet he can’t stop the tiny bit of hope that blooms, though it dwindles minute by minute as Jimmy stares and stares. Finally, he opens his mouth to make his apologies again and leave to his frozen, icy empire-

And then there are hands in his hair and lips on his, warm and sudden and bold. Scott gives a little startled gasp, which is swallowed up by Jimmy’s kiss. Their noses knock together and Jimmy’s teeth click against his just a little in their haste, but Scott’s far too overwhelmed by the sudden rush of warmth to care.

When Jimmy finally pulls away, Scott’s left breathless, cheeks warm in a way no part of him has been since Jimmy died in 3rd life.

He barely pulls himself together enough to manage a wry little “So, I’ll take that as you want to stay married?”

“Of course I do! You absolute idiot!”

Jimmy sounds so startled and offended at the idea that he wouldn’t , Scott’s not sure whether to laugh or cry. “Just checking.”

Jimmy kisses him again in response, and who’s Scott to protest? No, he’s more than happy to let Jimmy pull him close and kiss away the lingering sorrow. When Jimmy pulls away this time, he’s left dizzy, half caught up in the euphoria of being loved, half terrified that this is only a cruel dream.

By the time Scott collects himself again, Jimmy’s holding out the bracelet to him. “Can you help me put this on?”

Scott can only nod, fumbling with the clasp a little. It’s not complicated, but his hands aren’t steady, and it takes him a moment to get it. Jimmy grabs his hands when he lets go, and he’s so warm that Scott can’t muster the energy to even question why.

“Come in and catch up with me?” Jimmy offers.

Scott nods again, and he can’t bear to let go of Jimmy’s hand when Jimmy turns to go inside.

They talk a lot, Jimmy more than Scott. Scott learns that Jimmy’s been picked on by other rulers (no surprise, but his blood still boils at the thought), and he shares minimal details about what he’s been up to. Jimmy doesn’t need to hear about Scott’s issues, he’s already dealing with enough.

Eventually, though, the sun is starting to set.

“I need to get home,” Scott says, though he has to force himself to. “You need sleep, not to stay up all night talking.” He goes to get up, and Jimmy immediately lunges, catching his sleeve.

“Don’t go! Please.” Jimmy sounds almost afraid, which instantly sets off alarm bells.

“Jimmy, darling, we both need to sleep,” Scott tells him, very patiently.

“We can sleep! I just….nevermind.”

Now the alarm bells are really going off in Scott’s head. He knows when his husband is hiding something serious, and Jimmy’s frantic tone isn’t helping his worry. “No, no. What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Jimmy claims.

Scott frowns at him lightly. “ Jimmy .”

That’s all it takes. “I don’t want to be alone!” Jimmy blurts. He’s blushing a little. “It’s just, I’ve been alone for a long time, and there’s this demon thing that keeps showing up, and I’ve only just got you back, I’m not ready to let you go, and-”

Oh, Jimmy . Scott holds up a hand in a ‘stop’ gesture. “Hold on. What was that about a demon?”

“There’s this demon creature that I keep seeing, and it’s really messing with me. It sounds like you, sometimes, but all distorted, and I can’t handle it! You know me, I’m not brave or smart or anything, I’m just Jimmy!” Jimmy’s voice pitches up with distress, and Scott’s heart aches for him.

“Alright,” he says, as gently as he can manage. “How about you come to Rivendell for the night, then? I can protect us both easier there.” More like, Aeor can protect them. Scott’s useless, even with Vilya.

Jimmy nods and takes Scott’s hand with a tiny little “Thank you.”

“Always,” Scott murmurs. It comes out softer than he means it to, though it’s the truth. He’ll always do whatever he can to protect Jimmy, which is why he asks “Do you still have the ring I gave you?”

“I do, I just… give me a moment to remember where I put it.”

“Good. It’s important.” Vilya is one of the most important parts of his heritage, actually, and his advisors would pitch a fit if they knew he had given it to a mortal. For once, he can’t bring himself to care what his advisors would think, though. Jimmy is important, more important than any piece of jewelry.

Jimmy follows Scott to Rivendell, and Scott can’t resist a proud smile when Jimmy praises the buildings. He takes Jimmy inside, lets him curl up under the warm covers, his head tucked against Scott’s chest, and it’s only once Jimmy’s asleep that Scott lets himself break. He’s so tired , so utterly exhausted from being brave for so long. Even now that his husband is curled up next to him, warm and solid and real, he can hardly believe that Jimmy actually wanted him back- wanted him at all, really. Scott doesn’t want to move for fear of waking up Jimmy, but luckily for him, he’s good at crying silently. That’s what he does, tears slipping down his face to wet the pillow below. Only the faintest whimper escapes his lips, a tiny broken noise that he’s embarrassed of even in this emotional state. And when another slips out, he buries his face in Jimmy’s hair and forces himself back into silence. He’s not going to cry over the best thing that’s ever happened to him, he isn’t , but he’s just so tired of being alone that being with someone else is almost painful in contrast; he’s so cold that the slightest touch of warmth feels burning.

Jimmy shifts in his sleep, mumbling something that sounds vaguely affectionate and pulling Scott closer, and Scott nearly chokes from the effort of restraining a sob. Gods, Jimmy . He could die like this, tucked in his husband’s arms, and he doesn’t think he’d regret it.

“I love you,” he whispers into the night. It comes out choked. “I love you so much. I’m so sorry, Jimmy, I’m so sorry.”

Jimmy mumbles something that sounds a lot like “I love you too”, and that’s what really breaks Scott. It’s a miracle Jimmy doesn’t wake up, really, with Scott’s quiet sobs shaking the mattress. He cries until he’s all out of tears, as silently as he can manage, and only then does he slip into a sound sleep.

[gossip-girl-of-middleearth]

WHOMST IS THIS OC BAKER BOY ELF I SEE YOU SPEAKING ABOUT!???! DO TELL!!

~vaya

GAH YES I LOVE MY SOFT BAKER ELF BOY!!

He is one of my most favourite OC’s, because he is quite literally a cinnamon roll.

(him on the top left, not my art but my faceclaim, as found on Pinterest with no other link)

His name is “Oranor” (it means “Sunday” in Elvish—the day he was begetted on)

He’s from another one of my main stories, “Phony Matrimony”

Basically, he’s about the elven equivalent of 18 years old, and developed a strong childhood crush on Legolas after the war against Sauron, upon seeing him ride to Aragorn’s coronation atop a white steed (very swoon-worthy for a 6 year old gay-to-be)

When Legolas took over Ithilien, I headcanon he built his town in Emyn Arnen—a canon place which looks like the Shire, but more yellow.

(Emyn Arnen, Ithilien)

He’s a baker’s boy (originally born in mirkwood) who Legolas regularly orders from, and the story follows one big lie that Oranor accidentally orchestrated with his scheming older brother.

So, his parents perished in the war, so he and his brother are both taken in by their aunt, Bronwe.

His older brother, Remmirath (means “constellation”), is an...eccentric “El Dorado” type of fellow, always chasing one big adventure after another, or selling snake oil as “cures” to people—a total charlatan.

Remmi comes back one day to find his little brother heartbroken over Legolas being forced to choose a Sindar-blooded partner soon by Thranduil (Oranor himself is just a lowly silvan), and sees an opportunity to be set for life.

The brothers are both naturally brunette, but Remmi returns as a blonde, explaining that he found this “amazing flower” which can change your hair colour for a short amount of time (like polyjuice potion, but just for your hair), depending on which hued flower you pick.

After being coerced (Remmirath just wants his brother to marry a royal so he can mooch off of them both), Oranor agrees to take the flower and turn blonde, as to convince Legolas and Thranduil that he, “Alfirin” (his new alias, quite literally means “white flower”), is actually Glorfindel’s illegitimate son, making him of noble blood, and consequently allowed to marry Legolas.

Big antics ensue with a “suitor competition”, as Thranduil calls in potential elves for Legolas to court, and now Oranor, under the guise of the blonde “Alfirin” has to make Legolas fall in love with him.

However, Legolas has actually been in love with the simple baker’s boy all along, and isn’t interested in any of the suitors, until “Alfirin” starts to remind him of Oranor, who has mysteriously skipped town.

An extract of chapter 2 underneath the cut!

I’ll get around to posting the story eventually lol

Also don’t mind Legolas being a little bit scandalous, he’s doing it to piss his father off (and rightfully so, too)

🥖🥖🥖🥖🥖🥖🥖🥖🥖🥖🥖🥖🥖🥖🥖🥖

Blowing a stray strand of his fringe out from his eyes, Oranor readied himself under his breath. Readjusting the crate underarm, he shifted his weight to one hip.

Muttering quietly to himself, the young elf further pushed the letter down behind the sticky buns. “You can do this, Oran. He will never know it’s you unless you reveal so to him. Don’t be a coward, for once in your life, don’t be just a little baker’s boy. All you have to do is—”

Halting his nervous tongue, Oranor heard voices on the other side of the door. They sounded heated and tense, clearly two males.

It was only with quite some strain on Oranor’s elven ears, that he recognised both Thranduil and Legolas’ voices.

The Elvenking was here, in Emyn Arnen?

Frightened out of his idea immediately, but still curious, Oranor pressed his ear flat against the wood, and listened closely.

“I ask this of you because I care about you, Legolas!”

“Ada, please! You only wish for me to court so you can have an heir begotten for you!”

“That is NOT true, and I resent your thoughts regarding so! Just study the list of names, Legolas. Some are male, too! I know you and your preferences.”

“My preference is to NOT get married right now! Especially to your presumptuous list! I’ll be sailing soon after Aragorn’s departure from our world, so what does it matter, Ada?”

“You will be lonely by yourself overseas! I want to ensure my son is spoken for before he goes.”

“Your son is speaking; you’re just not listening.”

“I could be a lot meaner, Legolas. I am allowing you to choose whom you marry freely, so long as they’re from my list. There are many names on there! You will see—love will find you swiftly.”

There was a short silence on the other side of the door, and Oranor imagined it was his usually reserved lord taking a moment to roll his eyes at his father. Once those few seconds had passed, Thranduil spoke up again—sterner this time, too.

“I am not being unreasonable, Legolas. I only ask two things of you; that you see to yourself being betrothed in the next few months, and that they be of Sindar lineage. There are many to choose from. I won’t hear another word about it—you are still my subject and heir, therefore I have the right to ask this of you.”

Oranor gulped down the nerves that rose in his throat, and made quick moves to retrieve the letter. Hastily, for he heard footsteps approaching from the other side of the door (most likely Legolas seeking to leave his father’s presence in a furious state), Oranor began to rip the letter in two.

He was blushing madly in humiliation. Of course he could never court Legolas. Legolas was a prince, and Sindar at that. Oranor himself was just a lowly Silvan of bakery origins. It was simply not meant to be.

Perhaps it hadn’t moved past a childish crush after all.

Feeling the tips of his ears turning red, Oranor anxiously glanced between the letter he was tearing in half, as well as the door.

He knew he could not hide both himself and the crate in time, for the angered steps were upon him. Glancing all around, Oranor spun on his heel a few times, as he hastily thought of where to flee and stash the crate.

There was a pot of fern to his right, but before he could throw the crate inside and finish tearing the letter, the door to Legolas’ large reading room opened.

A roaring fireplace soon met Oranor with its warmth, as it fought to fend off the winter snow’s cold, just outside the large windows of light running along one side of the room.

Oranor, shorter than his lord by at least a head, was soon met face-to-face with Legolas. They blinked at each other in shock for a moment, before Thranduil spoke up again.

Oranor peeked over the prince’s soldier, and saw the king rise from the long couch before the fire to chase after his son.

“Legolas, do not be such a child, it is very unbecoming of you to storm away—”

Thranduil, too, was stunned to find someone there. If he didn’t possess all the class in the world, Thranduil perhaps would have been embarrassed over someone having heard his conversation.

Formally, Oranor bowed his head to both Thranduil and Legolas, and greeted them by their respective titles. At the same time, he tucked the one half of the letter he’d managed to rip into his winter cloak’s pocket—partially grateful the rest was hidden down the side of the buns.

At least most of it was unintelligible now.

“Your majesty.” He moved his eyes away from Thranduil’s, and nervously met Legolas’. “My lord.”

“My delivery?” Legolas repeated back, offering a mustered smile to the baker’s boy. He also gave a brief nod down at the buns in gesture.

“Yes, my lord,” Oranor meekly replied, shifting the crate under his arm again, so that he brought it forwards with both hands.

“Amazing timing,” Legolas sincerely commended. He took the order and practically drooled over the scent of cinnamon and icing.

Turning on his heel, and ignoring his unimpressed father, Legolas walked over to the table set before the fire. He placed the crate down promptly, planning on curling up with a good book later on and divulging himself in the treats.

The crate was slightly messy, and icing soon covered the lord’s fingers. Extracting a low, quiet whine from the back of Oranor’s throat, he watched as Legolas licked the icing from his fingers, one by one.

Thranduil caught this, and narrowed his eyes in Oranor’s direction. The younger elf noticed the king’s scrutiny quickly, and averted his eyes from the blonde, who seemed to be cleaning each finger very slowly, almost aware of his audience.

“Legolas,” Thranduil ordered, pausing the lord’s tongue as he looked at his father innocently with blinking eyes. “Pay the baker, and then we shall discuss your betrothal plans further.”

With one finger still in his mouth, Legolas flickered his eyes on over at Oranor. The brunette could’ve sworn he spotted mischief behind the blue, and the slightest of smirks upon his lips.

Oranor shifted uncomfortably from foot to foot, wishing more than anything to run upstairs in the bakery to his bedroom. It’d been a blessing since his older brother had left on another adventure, for privacy was entirely his in the shared room and bunk beds, and his alone.

“Of course, Ada,” Legolas replied, popping his finger from his mouth. “I was just about to.”

[beautifulgiants]

The World May Be Ending But at Least We Have Lee Pace

He's a science-fiction head, a star of the show Foundation, Twitter’s new crush, and an all-around good guy. He also looks great in this season’s most stylish outerwear.

By Matt Miller

Sep 24, 2021

Lee Pace and I have formed a sci-fi book club. His idea. Without anyone intending it, dinner at a Japanese restaurant in Brooklyn has turned into our club’s unofficial first meeting. There’s The Lord of the Rings and Dune, of course, which the actor has read more times than he remembers. He also sings the praises of his favorite writer, Ursula K. Le Guin, and the universe-rattling Three-Body Problem, by Cixin Liu. He pulls out his Kindle to show me the Bobiverse series, which he’s currently reading, and to download a couple books I suggest (Ann Leckie’s Ancillary Justice and Arkady Martine’s A Memory Called Empire). I have no doubt he’ll read them immediately. “We have to get back together and discuss,” he says.

Pace strikes me as not just a fan but a scholar of sci-fi, a world where bona fides count for a lot and fakers get no respect. His reading list may come as a relief to the millions who know Pace, age forty-two, for his roles in some of the biggest sci-fi and fantasy franchises of all time. He played Thranduil the Elvenking in the Hobbit series, Ronan the Accuser in Marvel’s Guardians of the Galaxy and Captain Marvel. Not to mention the vampire Garrett in the Twilight saga. Now he’s adding another character to that list: Galactic Emperor Cleon on Apple TV+’s Foundation, based on the Isaac Asimov series from the 1940s and ’50s. The novels are often credited with inspiring Stars both Wars and Trek and defined science fiction for modern fans.

Nonscholars, here’s the gist: Pace’s Emperor Cleon has ruled the sprawling Galactic Empire for generations as a series of genetic clonelike successors, with absolute power. And he looks good doing it. When a trailer for the series dropped this past summer, it caused something of a social-media fervor, with fans online calling Pace an “Intergalactic Emperor Daddy.”

“I’m deeply flattered,” he says of the distinction. “My mother would be so proud.”

He’s laughing, but honestly, Foundation is serious business that comes at a serious time. Our dinner-cum-book-club took place a few days after the release of a grim United Nations report on our future. You know the one: We can no longer stop climate change from intensifying over the next thirty years, but there is a chance we can mitigate the worst possible outcome if we act right away.

“That sounds like a line from Foundation, doesn’t it?” Pace says of the report’s top line. The world of Foundation is based on the fall of the Roman Empire, and it begins with a mathematician predicting the fall of the Galactic Empire. He’s got a plan to shorten the dark age that will follow, but time isn’t on the Galactic Empire’s side. Depending on your personality, it’s either the best or the worst possible viewing for our apocalyptic times.

Pace is in the first camp: “That thing, change, is the only thing you can bet on, that things will change. What the Cleons are hoping for is this imperishable permanence. You can’t do that. That’s not the way it works.”

Pace is the best kind of climate optimist in that he can acknowledge that “there’s a limit to control” without giving up. He’s on the leadership council of Conservation International and has traveled with the group’s scientists. “I feel like, hopefully, some of us during Covid have had the experience of a way of life that doesn’t involve overconsumption and all the things that we know we should be a bit more mindful about, but we’re spoiled, so we can’t help ourselves,” Pace says.

Ironically, for a climate activist, Pace is probably best known for playing characters who lack the physical fragility that actual humans in the grip of climate change have: an elf, a vampire, a Trumpian space king, and, most memorably, a pie maker, Ned, with the gift and curse of bringing people back to life on the cult hit Pushing Daisies. The show ran for only twenty-two episodes in the late 2000s, but it’s enjoying a reanimation thanks to HBO Max. Pace did a rewatch of his own alongside the new and old fans and compared notes. More than a decade later, he finds himself wishing to be back at the Pie Hole, with Ned’s friends. Will there be a second life for a show about bringing back the dead?

“I mean, we always joke about it, fantasize about it. I know [creator] Bryan [Fuller]’s told me his ideas for it, and they sound so cool. Everyone’s busy doing different things. I would love to be with everyone again. Yeah, I mean I’m game for it,” Pace says. Until then, there’s a stack of new books on both of our nightstands to keep us busy.

[ring-smith]

Dwarrowtober Day 20 - Gold

Gold was, as it always had been, still the most prominent riches in Erebor’s halls.

The substance had been the one that drew Smaug in the first place, being the love of both dwarves and dragons. Elves loved their silver and starlight gems, Men their iron, and it appears Hobbits will prize food above all other materials. But like moths to a flame, we dwarves have always sought deeper and deeper for gold, an obsession too often bringing upon ourselves and our neighbours only ruin and tragedy.

That is not to say that we are so all consumed by gold that we forsake our values, or that Elves have not made just as many (and in a select few cases, far worse) obsessions with an item over people. But we dwarves, unlike Elves, make very little attempt to hide our greed, while from the tales I have heard Elves will laugh and pretend it is all about duty and honour and family oaths. No, most dwarves will tell you up front that they are after gold, straight and honest, for is there any shame in loving such as treasure, mined by our own hand? No, I have never believed it so.

Even our own Thorin Oakenshield, who has often skirted the line far closer than he should have to dishonesty, was clear that he wanted Erebor’s gold for its value as well as its heritage. And we were fine with that, for why should we not seek our gold, ours by trial and birthright?

But our great deed – one of greed and honour both, a perfectly respectable combination – has quickly turned to arrogance and ruin. Thorin is losing himself, high on his riches and triumph that was not really his own, but that poor Bilbo, who I can see lose faith by the hour. I can no longer see my dear friend, lost as he is to dragon sickness or his own arrogance, I cannot tell which. Both, in all likelihood. We have done Laketown at least a dishonour, one even the hated Elvenking can see, whatever the circumstances of his own slight may be. And yet Thorin perceives them as only enemies, which if they are, they are ones of our own making.

The gold of Erebor is truly as magnificent as it ever was in my memories, yet there is no glory in our deeds this night.

- From the Diary of Balin, Advisor to the King Under The Mountain

[omgsquee2001]

Uzfakuh: A Kíli Love Story

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Prologue

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

My dear Frodo.

Bilbo Baggins

lit a match, then used it to light a candle. He walked through a hallway in his house, carrying the candle.

You asked your Aunt and I, before she moved away, if we had told you everything there was to know about our, adventures.

Bilbo opened a chest that was set against the wall. He glanced down in recollection at his sword, which was in its sheath. Bilbo reached out to touch the sword. At the last second, he restrained himself and pulled out a large red book from the chest. 

And while I can honestly say we told you the truth, we may not have told you all of it.

Sitting down at his desk and opening the book, Bilbo saw a drawing of himself when he was younger. 

I am old now, Frodo.

Bilbo picked up the drawing and gazed at it, smiling lightly. He noticed another, larger drawing. The familiar hem of a dress caught his eye. He picked the other picture up. While his smile shone with happiness and remembrance, his eyes shone with a sort of sadness. He gently stroked the picture. 

I’m not the same Hobbit I once was. And neither is your Aunt, where ever she is.

After setting the pictures down, he picked up his quill and dipped it into a pot of ink. 

I think it is time for you to know what really happened. 

He paused for a moment, thinking about what to write. He got an idea and began to write. 

 It began long ago in a land far away to the east, the like of which you will not find in the world today.

There was the city of Dale. 

Its markets known far and wide, full of the bounties of vine and vale. Peaceful, and prosperous. For this city lay before the doors of the greatest kingdom in Middle-earth: Erebor. 

Stronghold of Thrór, 

King under the Mountain, mightiest of the dwarf lords. Thrór ruled with utter surety, never doubting his house would endure, for his line lay secure in the lives of his son 

and grandson. 

Ahhh, Frodo, Erebor; built deep within the mountain itself, the beauty of this fortress city was legend.

Its wealth lay in the earth, in precious gems hewed from rock, and in great seams of gold, running like rivers through stone. The skill of the dwarves was unequaled, fashioning objects of great beauty out of diamond, emerald, ruby, and sapphire. Ever they delved deeper, down into the dark. And that is where they found it. The heart of the mountain. The Arkenstone. 

Thrór named it the King’s Jewel. He took it as a sign, a sign that his his right to rule was divine. All would pay homage to him, even the great Elvenking, Thranduil. 

As the great wealth of the Dwarves grew, their store of good will ran thin. No one knows exactly what began the rift. The Elves say the Dwarves stole their treasure. The Dwarves tell another tale. They say the Elf King refused to give them their rightful pay. It is sad, Frodo, how old alliances can be broken. How friendships between peoples can be lost.

"And for what?" Bilbo asked himself. He scoffed and returned to writing.

But the years of peace and plenty were not to last. Slowly, the days turned sour, and the watchful nights closed in. Thrór’s love of gold had grown too fierce. A sickness had begun to grow within him; it was a sickness of the mind. And where sickness thrives, bad things will follow.

The first they heard was a noise like a hurricane coming down from the north. The pines on the mountain creaked and cracked in a hot, dry wind.

It was a fire drake from the north. Smaug had come. 

Such wanton death was dealt that day, for this city of men was nothing to Smaug; his eye was set on another prize. For dragons covet gold, with a dark and fierce desire. 

Erebor was lost, for a dragon will guard his plunder as long as he lives.

Thranduil would not risk the lives of his kin against the wrath of the dragon. No help came from the elves that day, or any day since.

Robbed of their homeland, the dwarves of Erebor wandered the wilderness, a once mighty people brought low.

The young dwarf prince took work where he could find it, laboring in the villages of men, but always he remembered the mountain smoke beneath the moon, the trees like torches blazing bright, for he had seen dragon fire in the sky, and his city turned to ash, and never forgave, and he never forgot. 

Far away, in another corner of the world dragons were only make-believe. A party trick conjured by Wizards on Midsummer's Eve. No more frightening than fairy dust. And that, my dear Frodo is where your Aunt and I come in. It was the beginning of an unlikely friendship that has lasted all our lifes. But it is not the start of our story. For us it began…well, it began as you might expect. In a hole in the ground, there lived a hobbit. Not a nasty, dirty wet hole full of worms and oozy smells. This was a hobbit hole. And that means good food, a warm hearth, and all the comforts of home.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Frodo walked out of one of the rooms in the house, eating a cookie. He looked over at his Uncle and smiled gently. Frodo walked outside and took our the mail from the mailbox. He walked back inside. Bilbo, who was laughing while writing in his book, quickly quieted down and cleared his throat. Frodo set the mail on Bilbo’s desk. 

“Thank you.” He said. Frodo looked at the picture of Bilbo when he was younger. Frodo smiled as he looked down at it. 

“What’s this?” He asked. Bilbo took the picture from the hands of his nephew. 

“That is private. Keep your sticky paws off.” Bilbo said. Frodo then picked up the other, larger drawing. The drawing depicted a young lady Hobbit and a young Dwarf. 

//Just imagine that the Dwarf is Kíli//

They held hands, twirling in a dance. Their eyes bore into one another. They held love and adoration.

“Is this Aunt Azalea?” Frodo asked tentatively. Talking about his Aunt was a sensitive topic for Bilbo, for he missed his sister greatly. Bilbo fell silent for a moment before nodding. 

“Y-yes. That is, your Aunt.” Bilbo said quietly. Frodo looked at the Dwarf. 

“Who is that Dwarf with her?” He asked. Bilbo took the picture away. 

“The best and worst mistake of her life.” He said. Bilbo picked up one letter in particular that Frodo had brought in. Bilbo opened it and read it. 

‘My dear Bilbo,’ the letter started out. Bilbo could still imagine her voice. Soft and kind. 'How are you, Brother? How is Frodo? Is he getting into trouble like his dear Aunt always did, or is he a more respectable Hobbit like yourself? Kíli and I are doing very well, in fact, we are expecting a child! Isn’t that wonderful news? Thorin is doing very well at ruling the kingdom. He has lessened his strictness on Fíli, letting him live the way he would like. The others have returned to their normal lives, making toys, baking, crafting, advising. Kíli and I will make sure to come to the Shire. I wouldn’t want to miss out on my older brother’s birthday. Thorin wants to come along as well. He wants to see how grownup Frodo has become. Be prepared for another Unexpected Party. The whole Company wants to come for your birthday. I pray that you are doing well. Happy birthday Brother. Much love, Azalea.’ Bilbo smiled. He set down the letter on his book, reminding himself to write back to his sister. He made his way into the living room and took out some poster paper. 

“You know, some people are beginning to wonder about you, Uncle,” Frodo said, looking at Bilbo. “They think you’re becoming odd.” Frodo said. 

“Odd? Hmm.” Bilbo hummed before returning to the paper he was working on. 

“Unsociable.” Frodo added. Bilbo chuckled. 

“Unsociable? Me? Nonsense,” he handed Frodo the paper. “Be a good good lad and put that on the gate.” Bilbo said. Frodo looked at it dubiously, but still did as he was told.   

He nailed the sign to the front of the gate. It read; "NO ADMITTANCE EXCEPT ON PARTY BUSINESS". Bilbo came out and stretched. Frodo looked at his Uncle from the other side of the gate, smiling. He held a book, tucked under his arm.

"You think he’ll come?" He asked. Bilbo looked at his nephew.

"Who?" He asked.

"Gandalf." Frodo said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. Bilbo smiled.

"Ahhh. He wouldn’t miss a chance to lit up his whiz-poppers! He’ll give us quite a show, you’ll see. I also think your Aunt is going to come, along with some friends who would love to see you." Bilbo said, smiling. Frodo’s smile grew. He loved it when his Aunt and Uncles came to visit. They always told him tales of how they reclaimed their homeland.

"Aunt Azalea is coming? Is she going to bring Uncle Kíli, Fíli and Thorin?" He asked. Bilbo chuckled. Frodo loved it when his Aunt and Uncles came to visit. They always told him tales of how they reclaimed their homeland.

"From what I read from her letter, she's bringing the whole group." He said. Frodo smiled.

"Right then, I’m off." Frodo said, heading off down the stone and grass path.

"Off to where?" Bilbo asked. Frodo stopped and looked at his Uncle.

"East Farthing woods. I’m going to surprise Gandalf." Frodo said. Bilbo nodded.

"Well, go on then! You don’t want to be late." Bilbo said. Frodo smiled and continued on, racing down, book in hand.

He doesn’t approve of being late. Not that I ever was.

Bilbo sat on his porch and smoked his pipe.

In those days, I was always on time. I was entirely respectable. And nothing unexpected ever happened.

[haillenarte]

the grand cosmos;

Here are translations of the elven dialogue in the Grand Cosmos. Relevant to fans of the Heavens’ Ward.

Here’s a first: a multi-language compilation! I roped my boyfriend into contributing the DE/FR translations, whereas the JP ones are mine, as usual. Overall edits were done jointly by the both of us.

Lord Tolthewil / “Thordan” Archbishop and Ancient King

EN: For Lakeland! JP: レイクランドよ永遠に…！ DE: Lang lebe das Seenland! FR: Longue vie à Grand-Lac!

TRANSLATIONS JP: For Lakeland, towards eternity!  DE: Long live Lakeland! FR: Long live Lakeland!

EN: The elves shall prevail! JP: すべてのエルフのために…！ DE: Lang lebe das Geschlecht der Elfen! FR: Longue vie aux Elfes!

TRANSLATIONS JP: For the glory of the elves... DE: Long live the elven race! FR: Long live the elves!

EN: And now you fall! JP: これで終わりだ…！ DE: Das ist das Ende... FR: C’est terminé!

TRANSLATIONS JP: This is the end! DE: This is the end... FR: It's over!

Ser Intheran / “Zephirin” First Seat of the Heavens’ Ward

EN: The chivalric spirit shall prevail this day! JP:  今こそ我らの真の力を見せるときぞ！ DE: Jetzt zeigen wir euch, wie die Helden der Elfen kämpfen! FR: Éprouvez la puissance des chevaliers de Grand-Lac!

TRANSLATIONS JP: Brothers! It is time to call upon our true power! DE: The time is come to show you how elven heroes fight! FR: Witness the might of the knights of Lakeland!

*This line appears to be a reference to Zephirin’s battle call shortly before the battle in the Singularity Reactor, so I’ve translated it as such.

“Vellguine” Second Seat of the Heavens’ Ward

EN: <gasp> Would he truly say such things? JP:  なんと！？真でありますか？ DE: Wirklich? Meint Ihr das auch ernst? FR: Vraiment!? Vous êtes sûre?

TRANSLATIONS JP: What?! Is it true? DE: Truly? Do you say that quite in earnest? FR: Truly?! You are certain?

*This line appears to be a reference to Vellguine’s exclamation in the Japanese version of the fifth Tale from the Dragonsong War, “What Remains of a Knight.” It is not present in the English version of the story.

“Charibert” Third Seat of the Heavens’ Ward

EN: Would that my last partner could dance so well. JP:  いいですね、アナタ！アタシに合わせなサイ！ DE: Gut so, schön im Rhythmus bleiben. FR: Gardez le rythme, et tout ira bien!

TRANSLATIONS JP: Excellent work, darling! With me! DE: Good. Keep to the rhythm just so. FR: Keep the rhythm, and all will be well!

*This line appears to be a reference to one of Charibert’s lines from Thordan’s Reign. As before, I have translated it with respect to his flamboyant Japanese personality.

Ser Grymme / “Grinnaux” Fourth Seat of the Heavens’ Ward

EN: Taste mine axe! JP: ミンチにしてやる！ DE: Ich mach euch zu Hackfleisch! FR: Je vais vous découper en tranches!

TRANSLATIONS: JP: I'll make mincemeat out of you! DE: I'll make mincemeat out of you! FR: I'll cut you to pieces!

*This line appears to be a reference to a voiced line Grinnaux says in The Vault. As his fans are no doubt already well aware, “Minchi ni shite yaru!” attained a kind of memetic notoriety within the Japanese fandom on par with the English fandom’s fondness for Charibert’s “Sickness must be purged!”

“Adelphel” Fifth Seat of the Heavens’ Ward

EN: The next time you step on my toes, dear, it shall be the last. JP: 我が美剣にかけて踊ってみせましょう DE: Dürfte ich Euch meinen besten Schritt vorführen? FR: Laissez-moi vous montrer mes talents de danseur!

TRANSLATIONS JP: Now you dance with the Brightblade. DE: Shall I show you my finest steps? FR: Let me show you my skill on the dance floor!

*This line appears to be a reference to one of Adelphel’s lines from Thordan’s Reign. I translated it... how I think his entrance into KotR Ultimate should go...

Ser Phinibert / “Paulecrain” Sixth Seat of the Heavens’ Ward

EN: Have at thee! JP: ブッ刺しちまうぞ？ DE: Ich klatsch euch weg! FR: Vous allez sentir passer ma lame!

TRANSLATIONS JP: Shall I cut you to ribbons? DE: I'll crush you!  FR: I’ll have this bayonet through you!

EN: I have you! JP: 突き殺してやる！  DE: Tod! Tod allen Feinden! FR: Vous finirez empalés sur ma lance!

TRANSLATIONS JP: Death waits at the end of my spear! DE: Death! Death to all our foes! FR: You'll perish on my lance!

*These lines appear to reference Paulecrain’s dialogue from Thordan’s Reign.

Ser Hamonth / “Haumeric” Seventh Seat of the Heavens’ Ward

EN: Down with you! JP: 震えるがいい！ DE: Zittert und fürchtet euch! FR: Tremblez, mauviettes!

TRANSLATIONS JP: Tremble before me! DE: Tremble in fear! FR: Tremble, cravens!

EN: This cannot be... JP: 仕方あるまい… DE: Was für ein tragisches Ende... FR: Quelle tragédie...

TRANSLATIONS JP: So must it be... DE: What a tragic end... FR: Such a tragedy...

*These lines appear to reference Haumeric’s dialogue from Thordan’s Reign.

“Guerrique” Eighth Seat of the Heavens’ Ward

EN: We should have a contest. JP: 舞踏勝負か、面白い！ DE: Famose Idee, einen Wettbewerb im Tanze abzuhalten. FR: J'adore les concours de danse!

TRANSLATIONS JP: A dancing competition? How droll! DE: Splendid idea, to hold a dance contest. FR: I love dance competitions!

*This line appears to be a reference to one of Guerrique’s lines from Thordan’s Reign.

“Hermenost” Ninth Seat of the Heavens’ Ward

EN: It’s all in the hips. JP: 力を束ねるのだ… DE: Wir sind ein traumhaftes Paar. Der erste Preis ist uns sicher... FR: À deux, c'est plus facile...

TRANSLATIONS JP: Power gathers before me... DE: We make a fantastic pair. We're sure to place first... FR: Together, it's easier...

*This line appears to be a reference to one of Hermenost’s lines from Thordan’s Reign... at least in Japanese.

Ser Mothbert / “Noudenet” Tenth Seat of the Heavens’ Ward

EN: Know your folly! JP: 魔力よ降り注げ！ DE: Mächte zwischen Himmel und Erde, ich rufe euch! FR: Vous n'êtes pas de taille face à mes sorts!

TRANSLATIONS JP: Ancient magics, descend upon us! DE: Forces of heaven and earth, I call upon you! FR: You’re no match for my spells!

*This line appears to be a reference to one of Noudenet’s lines from Thordan’s Reign.

Ser Javyth / “Janlenoux” Eleventh Seat of the Heavens’ Ward

EN: We must drive them out! JP:  この一矢を総長に捧ぐ！ DE: Diesen Pfeil widme ich dem König der Elfen! FR: Mes flèches vont vous transpercer le cœur!

TRANSLATIONS JP: This arrow strikes in the commander’s name! DE: I loose this arrow in the name of the Elvenking! FR: My arrows will pierce through your hearts!

*This line appears to be a reference to one of Janlenoux’s lines from Thordan’s Reign.

“Ignasse” Twelfth Seat of the Heavens’ Ward

EN: One-two-three, one-two-three. JP: ところで副長はどちらに…？ DE: Wo ist denn eigentlich der gute Herr Vize-Kommandant? FR: Où est passé le vice-commandant?

TRANSLATIONS JP: Incidentally, where is the second-in-command...? DE: Say, where is our honorable vice-commander? FR: Where did the vice-commander go?

*This line does not reference anything Ignasse has said in the past, but instead is an acknowledgement of his admiration for Vellguine, I suppose...

[hir-nin-thranduil]

RPing The Elvenking

"Elves marry for love, or at least with free will from both parties, typically early in life. Monogamy is practiced and adultery is unthinkable.[3]:229 By their very nature, they are "seldom swayed by the desires of the body" or influenced by lust.[2]:211 They marry only once for it was ruled by Manwë that, "'since the Elves are by nature permanent in life within Arda, so also is their unmarred marriage.'"[4]:225 Finwë, first High King of the Noldor, was an exception. After his first wife died, from passing the majority of her life into Fëanor,[5]:237 and refused to be re-embodied, Finwë was permitted to marry again. This was pronounced by Námo as the 'Doom of Finwë and Míriel'.[4]:226" (Reference: http://tolkiengateway.net/wiki/Elven_life_cycle)

Since 95% of my RP requests revolve around potential romance, I thought it important to post this blog. To be clear, I’m not trying to imply that I won’t write love stories and the like. If we can't live out our fantasies in Roleplay, than where can we?

My purpose is to forewarn any interested parties that it's not going to be easy. Not only because of the Lore posted above, but because Thranduil has heaps of emotional baggage. The death of his wife shattered him...and Elves can literally die from grief. "For the Elves die not till tile world dies, unless they are slain or waste in grief." (The Silmarillion). I think The Elvenking found the will to survive, not only for his people and his kingdom, but more importantly, his son.

That being said, it's damn hard for me to imagine that Thranduil is in any hurry to put himself in a position where that could happen again. Plus, there is the shadow of his late wife to consider, his obvious love and devotion to her could cause him to feel that he’s betraying her memory. There’s also a great deal of guilt because he most likely feels responsible for her death. This is of course my own brain dribble. I don't believe his wife is even mentioned in the original lore. But according to the films she died as a prisoner at Gundabad. If anyone doesn't think he feels responsible for being unable to rescue her, then they just don't know Thranduil.

Why do we think he's so obsessed with reclaiming the Gems of Lasgalen? Sure, they're heirlooms of his people and probably worth quite a lot...but Elves aren't greedy or concerned with material gain. These gems were basically stolen from him when he commissioned a necklace for his wife....and in his mind, they sort of represent the last link he has to her - particularly that necklace. He couldn't rescue her, but perhaps he could rescue those gems. It’s symbolic and psychological. It is for this reason that I believe he is willing to go to war over something like this and risk the lives of himself and his warriors.

That's also probably why his grudge against the Dwarves is so intense that he refused to help during their time of great need. He warned Thror of "what his greed would summon" (AKA: A Dragon). So he probably felt that they got what they deserved. Plus I really don't think Thranduil is in any hurry to go up against another dragon after the injuries he suffered in the past. 

Since he was somehow unable to rescue his late wife, he may also feel that he deserves the loneliness and isolation that he now endures, simply because he could not/did not save her. Which is another reason he may choose to actually deprive himself of the solace he might find with a new lover.

Also, I don't control my muses...they call the shots. I honestly can't guarantee much of anything...except perhaps angsty feelz and lots of sarcasm. My advice? Well, The Elvenking is over 7,500 years old. There's probably almost nothing he hasn't already seen and done. Most of his life is probably a blur of repetition. Conventional Beauty alone just isn't going to cut it....I mean, he's surrounded by other gorgeous Elves all the time. If a character has any hope of attracting his attention and interest, they're going to have to be unique and/or stir something deep within his soul.

Also...I know there are a lot of people who like to imagine Thranduil with a human lover. As I mentioned earlier, the grief from losing his wife nearly killed him...so why would he ever choose to go through that again...particularly with someone who's guaranteed to die? "A hundred years is a mere blink in the life of an Elf"....his words, not mine.

On the flip side of this, if anyone is curious about why I AM willing to lorebend and write romance/erotica with Thranduil in spite of all the evidence against it's likelihood:

Well, Elves are meant to be incredibly wise and much more advanced than other peoples of Middle Earth, therefore I'm inclined to feel that they're probably more progressive than their Old Fashioned Christian creator originally intended. I of course, say this with the utmost respect and admiration for J.R.R. Tolkien and his legacy. He's one of my personal heroes, and as you can clearly see, I'm a huge fan/nerd.

As we all know, Peter Jackson and his crew took plenty of liberties and bent/broke the original lore. The Elvenking we know and love from the films is quite different from one we read about in the books. He's also inspired by Thingol, and to a lesser extent, Fëanor (the Gems of Lasgalen were said to be loosely inspired by the Silmarils). Anyway, as a fellow writer/creative person, I guess I feel justified in doing the same as long as it is in the interest of good storytelling and fun RP, while also within reason. I enjoy writing romance as much as anyone else.

There are obviously purists and others who would disagree with me, and that's fine. This is just my personal stance. Feel free to contact me with questions or concerns. 

Thanks for reading.

P.S. AUs are an unconventional method of writing romance with Thranduil. This blog refers to when I write him strictly canon.

[theartofbeinganeldar]

The Art of Being an Eldar: Legolas x Reader Chapter 2

Summary: You're a fantasy-loving, LARPing human from this world, who's the black sheep of society because of your obsession for the unreal and alienation of what's real. When you're in the middle of a LARP battle with some pretty phony boars, you fall out of a tree and bust your head. You wake up, alone, and are suddenly attacked by some very pissed-off, very real wargs. Without any idea of how you got there, you got dropped into Middle-Earth, with only bits and pieces of memories of Tolkien's masterpiece, though your recollection of everything else is perfectly clear. And of all places in Middle-Earth, you got dropped into Mirkwood, with some suspicious, potentially hostile, Woodland Elves...

Chapter No.: Chapter 1

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

Notes: Listen to Medieval Pagan Music, Runestones when reading this chapter.

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

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

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

Rating: Teen (14+) for now

When I said I hated reality, I didn't mean I wanted to be ripped from it without my family.

How they'd healed you so efficiently was beyond your comprehension, and nobody came to visit you. You couldn't bring yourself to eat much of what they brought you. To think you'd finally gotten your wish, you'd finally, somehow gotten sucked into some alternate reality where fiction was fact and what you'd known and lived in for your entire life was nonexistent... It was amazing. Surreal.

But you couldn't stay here. Not without your family. Not without your mom, not without [B/N], not without [S/N]. [F/N]... You wished you could've at least said goodbye to him. Life without the only people you'd ever had seemed unreal, incomprehensible, and too nightmarish. Too... Alone. You couldn't lose them.

For hours, you waited, pacing the ten-by-ten cell furiously. You had to find some way to get out, some way to find whatever portal you'd triggered... A sound at the barred door made you freeze in place, whipping around like a meerkat. It was Blue-Eyes, and some of his guards, one of which was unlocking the door. "Are you letting me go?"

Blue-Eyes stared at you as if trying to figure out whether or not you were desperate or stupid. Finally, he shook his head, probably deciding it was most likely both in your case. Well, screw him. "My father wishes to see you."

You glanced to each of the guards that came to grip either of your arms. "Is that... Bad?"

Blue-Eyes smirked. "It depends on his mood."

You glared at him as the other two Elves ushered you out of the door, onto the precariously thin ledge just outside of the cell. "You're trying to freak me out, aren't you?"

Blue-Eyes didn't answer, but took up the rear of the procession. They lead you to a platform overlooking all of the mazelike bridge-sets of the dungeons, and opened a pair of elaborately crafted doors. You balked, your jaw fell, your eyes widened as far as they'd go, stunned by the view.

The building you'd thought was surrounded by trees? It was a palace-city, which stretched back from the front wall as far as you could see. And it was made entirely of trees. Bridges of wood, twisting trunks, curling pillars of wood holding up a vaultrf ceiling which opened up to the orange-gold canopy, and beyond, the cloudless blue sky. Huge, arched windows with stained glass of amber filled the front wall, framed in wood, every few dozen feet, letting in a golden light that made the entire place seem more surreal than it already was. Leaves fell too slowly here, as if afraid that touching the ground would destroy their fabulousness. Elves inhabited every floor, sailing gracefully around like gorgeous swans that glared down at the sudden ugly duckling in their midst.

You felt tiny.

"This is your home?" You breathed in amazement, going where the guards took you on autopilot as you drank in the magnificent sight. "It's bigger than the town I live in!"

"This is just a small portion of it," Blue-Eyes had a hint of pride in his voice. You glanced over your shoulder to see him taking in the view with a faint smile on his face. "This part is my father's palace. Only nobles and militia reside here."

"It's beautiful..." You surveyed the palace in awe. I'm here. I'm really here! This is where I'm supposed to be! "Do you all have different floors? Is it flameproof? What happens if there's a forest fire? Can you even get forest fires here?"

"Why would you like to know?" Blue-Eyes demanded sharply, all kindness gone just as suddenly as it'd arrived, replaced with obvious suspicion and disdain.

You sighed, and dropped the subject. You wouldn't be finding anything out about this place today. The guards lead you up a short flight of stairs, which stopped at a huge circular pavilion, lined with a different type of guard in silver armor and navy-blue masks covering their lower faces. They stood almost impossibly still, and each carried a deadly spear.

More stairs, curving upward from each side of the pavilion, lead to a massive throne of carved wood. A regal Elf lounged on it, holding a curled wooden staff. He wore silver robes lined on the inside with a deep crimson, and a crown of thin branches styled like an elk's antlers --or maybe a thornbush-- sat atop his head of snow-white hair. Piercing blue eyes watched you from underneath strangely dark (And thick.) brows, but his catlike face was drawn into an unreadable expression.

Blue-Eyes stepped before you and the guards, and put his right arm over his chest, fist resting over his heart, as he bowed at the waist. "My king, we have brought the prisoner."

Inwardly, you winced. What kind of father forced his son to call him 'my king'?

The Elvenking flicked his fingers toward the guards on either side of you. "Leave us."

As they left with barely a clink of armor, Blue-Eyes grabbed you roughly by the shoulder, forcing you to your knees. His grip was like iron. He leaned down to snarl in your ear, "Show respect. His majesty has shown you a great kindness in allowing you to live."

Aw, fuck. You forgot that these guys had healed you. If Lord Fabulous over there had decided that by even so much as breathing near his lands you didn't deserve for your wounds to be healed, you'd be dead right now. "O-oh..." You quickly fixed your position, and even bowed your head with an arm over your chest, like Blue-Eyes had done. "Sorry..."

"My son tells me he found you trying to escape from warg-bound orcs on our northern border," Elvenking drawled slowly. Wargs... Those big dogs... Why does that sound familiar? Were they in a book? Mythology? A game? You couldn't remember, and Elvenking didn't give you time to. "You were found near-death, and without any apparent recollection of how you came to be there. Is that correct?"

You weren't sure how to adress him. "Yes, sir. My lord. Your majesty. I'm sorry."

Elvenking continued. "Would you like to elaborate on what you do remember?"

His tone wasn't kind. It was "Tell me bitch or I will throw you off into the chasms below."

And there were lots of chasms.

"You won't believe me," You started, and risked a glance; Blue-Eyes and Elvenking watched you warily. You could easily say you were from this world, but you didn't know anything about it. You couldn't lie believably. And even if you could, Elves can sense lies. You figured you'd get some extra points if you were totally honest. "But I'll tell you anyway." So you started out with your explanation of coming from a place called Earth, and that you'd been having a battle against some pretty fake boars played by unconvincing actors in Live Action Roleplay, when you'd fallen out of a tree, banged yourself up, and knocked yourself out. You then proceeded to explain about the big dogs and the orcs.

Elvenking lifted his chin slightly for the sole purpose of glowering at you. "Tell me more of this... Earth." You told him all you could. About cars and trains and jets and phones, then on to TVs and movies, and the huge skyscrapers, and how modern slang was different from what it had been, and how where you came from, Elves and orcs and dragons were all part of a genre known as fantasy. You even tried, for a brief period of time, to explain the subject of eMail and social sites like Tumblr and Twitter, but you gave up at their odd looks as they tried to comprehend the concept. You told them about all seven continents, presidents, world leaders, endless wars, hunger, trashing the planet and all other shit that was wrong with Earth.

You could've been there for hours explaining it all. When you were finished, Elvenking regarded you like he'd just came to the conclusion that you just weren't normal. "It seems, [Y/N], that your world is poisoned."

"It is!" You agreed excitedly. "Nobody cares about it anymore! It's why I grew up to be so... Un-normal, by my world's standards."

"I see..." Elvenking blinked slowly. "Then you are, since you are a spawn of this Earth, equal poison to this world, are you not?"

All the blood drained from your face. "What?"

He looked to Blue-Eyes. "Kill them."

Blue-Eyes gripped you by the back of the head, and your hands flew to his wrist as he yanked your head back. With a flourish, he drew one of his ivory-handled knives and pressed it to your throat. "Wait!" You screamed, and Elvenking raised a hand.

"Last words?" Blue-Eyes sneered.

"I don't know where I am," You choked out quickly; the cool steel of the blade was digging into your neck, cutting a fine line. "I don't know how I got here, but usually when stuff like this happens in movies, there's always a portal. Let me find it-- send an escort if you want! Take me back to where you found me, and I'll find the portal and go home. You'll never see me again!"

Elvenking dropped his hand, and your heart jumped, expecting your head to go with it. "Do you really think that is wise? I sense no dishonesty from you, but you could very well be a spy from your world, which seems so intent on conquering and destroying peace. I will not let this world, much less my own land, fall prey to yours."

"I won't tell anyone about you, or this place, I promise! I don't even know where this is!" Tears of frustration pricked the corners of your eyes. "I'm not a damn spy! I don't even know how I got here! Give me a couple of days to find the portal. Then I'll leave. What if there was a way for you to know I'll keep my word? Like a blood-oath, or something!"

"And if asked where you had gone?" Blue-Eyes countered, cocking an eyebrow.

"I'll tell them I went to Narnia, dammit! They never take me seriously anyway!" Your eyes widened. "This isn't Narnia, is it? Narnia didn't have Elves!"

"No, this is not... Narnia." Elvenking replied. "And you will not know the name of this land. You have three days to find your portal. You will be accompanied by a small assembly of my best warriors. If you do not find the door to your world within the given three days... I will give the order to kill you."

You swallowed hard. The steel dragged across your throat painfully. "Th-that sounds fair." It didn't, but, you just rolled with it.

"Legolas, you will go with them," Elvenking said; something clicked in your mind. You knew that name... You knew that name. But... Why?

Blue-Eyes-- Legolas-- nodded and finally removed the blade from your throat. Lord Fabulous inclined his head once, and you vaguely thanked him, too concerned with how you knew Blue-Eyes's name. He kept a tight, painful grip on your arm, actually digging his fingers in until you were pretty sure he cut off most of your circulation.

When you reached your cell, he thrust you in roughly, making you stumble forward. You whipped around to glare at him. "Could you be careful, Blue-Eyes?"

He paused in locking the door. Confused, he brought his sapphire eyes to meet your [e/c] ones. "What did you just call me?"

"Blue-Eyes," You suddenly felt a little embarassed about picking a nickname for him. Shit, you'd never let that bother you before. He could screw off. "I didn't know your name until a few minutes ago, so... I just picked something to call you."

He raised an eyebrow incredulously. "And you chose to call me after my eyes." It wasn't a question; it was a statement.

You flushed a little, glancing to the side with only your eyes nervously, then back to him. "Uh... Yeah. That's pretty much it."

He rolled his eyes and walked away. Before you even realized what you were doing, you'd ran to the bars and grabbed hold of them, pressing your cheek up against them to watch him walk away. "Blue-Eyes!" He stopped, but didn't turn around. "Your name... Legolas. I think I've heard it before."

He turned his head slightly, like he might be interested, but your hopes fell through the floor when he just continued walking. You immediately wished you'd've said something to get his attention, so he'd come talk to you. Like, Hey, I'm really a spy for Earth, MWAHAHAHAHAHA.

Ok, maybe not that drastic...

But you did wish he'd stayed to talk to you. Even if he'd tried to kill you. Legolas... You slid down the bars, sitting on the floor. Your knees came up to your chest of their own accord. Legolas... What do your Elf eyes see? You knew that you knew his name, but where did you know it from?

They're taking...

Aw, damn. It was right on the tip of your brain. Lord Fabulous looked really familiar, too. He reminded you of Ronan the Accuser from Marvel. Why couldn't you remember? Was it a side-effect of being tossed to another reality? What else did you not remember...?

You sat there for hours, until one of the guards brought you some food. You picked at the meal, as a tune got stuck in your head that you couldn't quite place...

Home is behind...

The world ahead...

Here, the song fizzed out like a radio signal, then you got another bit of it...

All shall fade..

All shall...

...Fade...

~ominous time skip~

You, Blue-Eyes, and a team of Elvish warriors like the ones who'd helped you escape the dogs and orcs set out at dawn, which was way too early for someone used to getting up at noon most of the time. All the Elves showed off their glowy perfect selves by leaping gracefully to pebble to pebble like the regal shits they were, including Blue-Eyes.

Actually, scratch that. Blue-Eyes was the fucking king of being a show-off.

They moved fast, and you were surprisingly able to keep up with them. Not one of the Elves wanted to speak to you; they seemed to consider you an abomination.

You kinda seen what they were getting at, though. You were still in your bright white, blue, and black sci-fi Elf outfit from yesterday, complete with the latex ears and bright blue faux-hawk, which had become much less faux-hawk-y after sleep. You were covered in dried blood, dirt, and parts of your outfit were ripped. You'd tried to clean up as best as you could when you were woken up by using the water from the cup you'd been given to scrub your face and arms with the stunningly clean sheets on your cot.

In other words, you stuck out like a bright blue flower in a field of dark grass. You didn't know the way back to the river, so most of the Elves surrounded you discreetly while Blue-Eyes took the lead. Every one of them had a bow or sword or knife out and ready, so one wrong sniff and you were dead.

You traveled for about an hour before anyone spoke. It was Blue-Eyes, to your surprise. "Why is your hair blue?"

"Huh?" Of all possible questions, that one hadn't been expected. Though, that was kind of dumb of you, to just assume they wouldn't eventually wonder if everybody from your world had crazy hair colors.

"Your hair," Blue-Eyes specified, sounding condescending, like his hair was much better than yours because it was long and perfect and almost white. "Why is it blue?"

"Oh," You cleared your throat. "It's dye. My real color is [h/c]. Lots of people do it where I come from. You can dye it a natural color, or an unnatural color, like so. Some keep their natural color and just add streaks that aren't their natural colors. Some dye their full hair, like me, for the sole purpose of cosplay--uh, dressing up as made-up characters for events--and others dye it just for fun. Or to stand out, I guess. But I wouldn't advise it. It ruins your hair. I just don't care, though."

"Why would anyone want to do that?" One Elf asked in horror, then sneered at you. "I suppose those of your world simply do not appreciate the naturalities of the body."

You shrugged. You should see the LGTBQ+ community... But you didn't feel like explaining any of that to these people right now. Especially when they obviously looked down on stuff like that.

"And what character are you meant to be?" Blue-Eyes asked in a challenging tone.

You flushed. "... A sci-fi Elf."

"...Sci-Fi?" A different Elf asked. "What is that?"

"Science fiction," You specified. "Basically, I'm supposed to be an Elf from another planet. It seemed like a good idea at the time."

"Is that why you have pointed ears?" Blue-Eyes questioned, and you nodded.

"Yeah. They're latex-- a kind of rubber. Wait, do you even have rubber here?" You waved a hand. "Nevermind. They can come off pretty easily, though. Speaking of which, I'd better take them off before they cause damage..." You reached up to one of your ears, despite the looks the Elves gave you.

Blue-Eyes stopped for a minute, halting the whole group. He looked at you like you were crazy. "Whyever would you put something on your body that could cause damage?"

You blinked. "That is a very good question, Blue-Eyes, and one I don't exactly have an answer for. Almost everybody does it at some point." You felt for the flap of latex, but you couldn't find it. Hell, you couldn't even find the edge of the prosthetic. "Oh shit..." You breathed.

"What is it?" Legolas huffed, and turned around impatiently.

Your eyes widened; you couldn't let them think you were panicking, but, well, you were, and shortly after, you did. "I-I can't get it off."

Blue-Eyes's brow furrowed. "Will it cause permanent damage if they are not removed?"

"Maybe? Yes? My skin goes red and itchy and starts to swell up if I touch latex for too long, so, I'm gonna go with a definitely on this one. Just keep walking. I should have them off by the time we get to the river."

But you didn't. There was no flap, no edge of the latex. If it weren't for the fact that you did put latex ears on, you wouldn't have known you had latex ears on. A suspicion grew in your core, so you grabbed hold of the pointed tip, and pinched down with your nails hard and fast. "Ow!"

Every Elf turned to look at you as you pulled your hand away. Some blood was on the tips of your fingers. "Why, in the name of the Valar, would you hurt yourself?" Legolas sighed like a parent lecturing a child, but you were staring at your fingertips in shock. Valar...

"I'm an Elf..."

"I beg your pardon?" Apparently the mere thought of being the same race as you was too much for Blue-Eyes to handle. It was fucking offensive.

"I'm an Elf!" You shouted, and snatched your hand to your chest. "The ears won't come off! They bled and hurt when I pinched them! I'm a damn Elf! When I fell through that portal, I was a normal human! Now I'm an Elf! I don't know whether I should be freaking out or excited!"

Legolas rolled his eyes. "It won't be permanent. Obviously, here you're an Elf. There, you're not. When we get you through the portal, you'll be a human again."

"But..." I don't want to be human... Yet, you were also trying desperately to get back to your family, on pain of death and loss of cool fantasy land. If only you'd wake up to learn you were in some kind of damn coma...

You waved your hands. "Ok. Alright, fine. Is this where you found me?"

Legolas gestured to a particular rock. "The exact spot. Do you think you could find your way from here?"

You smirked; you'd always been good at knowing your way. "Please. I was born with an innate sense of direction. Now how the fuck do we get over this damn river?"

Legolas grinned. "You're an eldar now, aren't you? See if you can get across it yourself." Eldar... That had to mean an Elf of some sort, right?

You stared him down for a second, hands on your hips. He smirked cockily back, pure smugness on his expression. "Ok. Sure. What's life without risk?"

So you took a deep breath, and headed for the opposite bank.

You and your siblings had this special hiking trail in a park, and on this trail was a creek slash pond area. Several of them. You'd always cross the creek carefully, each step placed just so, and quietly, too, so that you could see the frogs-- it was a frog hunt without actually killing said frogs. The exercise gave you all good balance and a know-how for shit not that rock.

But this river was much different than the creek back home. It was clear, and clean, and strong as fuck, so one wrong move and you'd be whooshed away, with Blue-Eyes giving Lord Fabulous the excuse of "Oh they died in the river tragically oops..."

The rocks were unstable. The river swelled over them every so often to make them slippery. Your rubber boots were less than zero help. But you were an Elf now, right? So that had to make you unfairly agile. You took another deep inhale, then took what you hoped was a graceful leaping step, only for you to slip and nearly bust your ass. Elvish powers have to be learned. Noted.

When you finally got to the other side of the bank, you were stiff, and your heart was pounding. Behind you, the Elves sneered and jeered and all kinds of other "eers". You whipped around, and flipped them off. They looked somewhere between shocked, offended, and terrified. You realized they might not know the symbolism of it, and might think you were cursing them. When they reached you, Blue-Eyes was the first to demand what that was all about. "What was that all about?!"

You panicked under pressure. "U-uh... I-it's a minor insult where I come from. Very minor. We use it frequently as a joke among close friends. A friendly insult. Yeah. Sorry. Won't happen again." He totally didn't believe you. So you quickly changed the subject. "O-oh, uh, this way!"

Scenery seen at night was harder to recognize during the day, and vise versa, but you knew you hadn't gone too far up the river when you came across some massive paw prints and scrape marks from where you'd skidded down the bank. Another bonus clue was the scrap of bright blue fabric, from your skirt/tunic thing, hanging precariously from a branch.

It took you the better part of an hour to find the tree you'd woken up at. "Okay, this it it."

"Are you certain?" Blue-Eyes asked you.

"Wait." You laid down, and yep, everything was the same, except in daylight. Legolas frowned at you as you stood, probably ashamed to even breathe the same air as you. "Yeah, this is it."

Blue-Eyes ordered something in Elvish, jerking his head. The Elves immediately set about making camp. "So, in your world, you fell from the highest branches of an oak, yes?"

"Yep, breaking several things in the process."

"And you lost consciousness after you hit the forest floor?"

"Yep."

Legolas hummed and looked up into the canopy. "Then by all means... The portal should be where you laid."

You glanced down at your feet before bouncing up and down a little. "Nope. Nothing."

Legolas huffed. "You may have to try climbing this tree and falling into this spot."

A deranged laugh escaped your throat, which you quickly stifled. "I'm sorry, but are you crazy? What if I die? We don't have the same healing stuff as you guys unless you can pay for it up front, and I'm very poor. So is all of my family. We can't afford that shit. So if I die, what's the point in going back?"

Legolas glared at you. "I didn't mean from very high. Just high enough to hopefully send you through, but not high enough to kill you. Your healers will mend broken bones, will they not?"

You scoffed dejectedly. "Yeah, but for a pretty hefty bill..." You threw your hands up. "Whatever. I'll die anyway if I don't try. Might as well." With Legolas watching you carefully to make sure you didn't try to jump from tree to tree, you started to climb.

Was it really only yesterday that you'd been having a fun, standard LARPing day with your family and [F/N]? The real world seemed like fantasy, now. This felt real. This felt like where you should be. But if your family weren't here, you wouldn't be able to enjoy it. You'd always feel as if you abandoned them. You wondered, did time pass differently? Did it go faster there, and slower here? Or was it the other way around? Would you find the portal, and return to the real world to find your family long gone and the year a thousand into the future? Then you'd wish you'd never left this place. Or would you find not a moment had passed, and to them, it was still the terrifying moment of not knowing if you were dead or alive, to find you unharmed? Would you then be able to convince them to fall through, even on the chance that the portal could only be used a handful of times, and if it did work, would a millenia had passed here? Even Blue-Eyes would've aged by that point, however slightly.

Once you'd reached a suitable height, you braced yourself against the trunk. "How's this?"

Legolas nodded. "Fine. Jump when you're ready.”

You took a minute... Ah... Better get this over with. One does not simply... Damn, what was that meme? "Ok, ready when you are."

Legolas stepped back, and waited; you hesitated, then jumped, and you felt deja vu as you barreled toward the ground, landing flat on your back. The impact knocked the wind out of you, and you felt a painful snap in your right ribcage. You kept your eyes closed; you heard nothing aside from the birds in the trees. You hoped, then hoped some more, expecting at any moment to hear the frantic footfalls of your family rushing to help you...

"Well, I see I was entirely wrong on the matter," Blue-Eyes stated simply, and you frowned. Fuck...

"Ya think? I'm still seeing priss-ass Elves in a goddamn forest that isn't the one I fell in. Fuck you, Blue-Eyes, for having me break a rib for no good damned reason." You glared at him as you tried to sit up, barely making it halfway before Legolas helped you, albeit roughly.

"Watch your tongue," Blue-Eyes snapped. "If it were not for us, you would be dead."

You pursed your lips. "You're gonna kill me anyway just for breathing on your trees, so why didn't you just let me die?"

For a second, Legolas seemed to feel pity for you. "I am sorry. Truly, I am. Perhaps if we fail to locate your way home, I could convince my father to refrain from executing you."

You huffed, wincing as the action hurt your broken-on-some-level ribs. "Why? So I can live the rest of my suddenly immortal life in a dark cell, underground, just for existing? Hell no. I'd rather die."

"Perhaps you could have another use," Legolas offered, and you shook your head.

"Never in my life have I been considered useful." You eyed Blue-Eyes disdainfully. "Ever. By anybody. If you can find a place for somebody like me that doesn't involve imprisonment, fine. But I won't be able to live with myself if I can't find a way back to Earth. I need my family. They're all I ever had."

Legolas knelt beside you. "You... Seem to be very close with them. You love this..." He looked off into the trees, searching for the word. "...Life, so much, and have wished for it for so long, but you'd give it up, to be with them in a world that does not want you... You have a brave heart."

You took the compliment. "Thanks. Now let's find this damn portal, shall we? I've got a couple more ribs to bust."

Tag List: @tesserphantom​ @thedragonghostofmordor​

@taurlel​ @hauntedsiriel​

[bisexualbumblebee-writes]

Returning Home Chapter 19- Thorin Oakenshield x OC

Thorin Oakenshield x Bellarose Baggins

Description: Bellarose discovers many things in a very short amount of time. Like what Bilbo had really been hiding, and that Thorin has feelings for her - or perhaps had.

Word Count: 2.4k

“Thorin, are you sure this is a good idea?” Bellarose asked nervously as she stood amongst the Company atop the gate blockade in Erebor the next morning. She decided it was worth it to give him one last chance to stop his madness. There was still time to stop this. But, it seemed that Thorin didn’t feel the same way. The King refused to look at her though she could see his firm gaze harden even more. 

“This is the only way,” was his only answer as armed Elves and Men alike marched towards the mountain. The Hobbit looked around anxiously, quickly noticing that several Dwarves (namely FIli, Kili and Balin) looked like they felt exactly what she was feeling in that moment. 

Her gaze was torn away when the marching stopped, then she watched as Bard and King Thranduil rode to the front of the armies and approached the broken bridge over the moat on their respective steeds. Without warning Thorin suddenly drew his bow and shot an arrow at the ground, nearly hitting the Elvenking’s elk in the leg. Bellarose gasped worriedly as both leaders looked up at the Dwarf King in surprise, halting their steeds. 

“I will put the next one between your eyes!” Thorin yelled, drawing another arrow as the rest of the Dwarves cheered and shook their weapons. 

For a moment Thranduil stared at him angrily, then tilted his head. It was apparently some sort of cue because the first few rows of Elves pulled out their bows. Bellarose gasped again, though this time fearfully as they notched their arrows and aimed at the wall in a single motion. She was pulled down by Balin as the rest of the Company ducked behind the ramparts aside from Thorin. After holding the pose for a few seconds, Thranduil raised his hand, and the Elves put away their arrows. Thorin, however, still had his bow drawn. 

“We’ve come to tell you: payment of your debt has been offered...and accepted,” the Elf informed him, which confused Bellarose. When in the world could payment have been given to either Mirkwood or Laketown? The Dwarf King seemed to feel the same way. 

“What payment? I gave you nothing! You have nothing!” He yelled as everyone stood back up again. 

“We have this,” Bard spoke this time, reaching into his robe. A second later he pulled out a beautiful white gem and held it above his head. Bellarose’s eyes widened. Was that…

“They have the Arkenstone?” Kili questioned angrily, confirming the Hobbit’s suspicions. “Thieves! How came you by the heirloom of our house? That stone belongs to the King!”

“And the king may have it - in our goodwill,” Bard answered easily, slipping the Arkenstone back into his robe. “But first he must honor his word.” All eyes turned to Thorin, who whispered to himself before speaking aloud. 

“They are taking us for fools. This is a ruse, a filthy lie,” he spoke to the company before yelling at Bard and Thranduil. “The Arkenstone is in this mountain! It is a trick!” That was when the Hobbit noticed someone step into view out of the corner of her eye. It was Bilbo. 

“It-It’s no trick. The stone is real. I gave it to them.” Bellarose’s jaw dropped as she stared at him in shock, the Company doing the same. 

“Bilbo,” the younger Baggins gasped out. 

“You…” Thorin trailed off, sorrow, anger and betrayal prevalent in his voice. 

“I took it as my fourteenth share,” Bilbo elaborated further. 

“You would steal from me?” Thorin questioned. 

“Steal from you?” The Hobbit repeated, shaking his head. “No. No. I may be a burglar, but I like to think I’m an honest one. I’m willing to let it stand against my claim.”

“Against your claim?” The King exclaimed angrily. “Your claim! You have no claim over me, you miserable rat!” He threw down his bow and began walking towards Bilbo. 

“I was going to give it to you. Many times I wanted to, but-”

“But what, thief?” Thorin cut him off. 

“You are changed, Thorin,” the Hobbit said desperately and sadly. “The Dwarf I met in Bag End would never have gone back on his word! Would never have doubted the loyalty of his kin!”

“Do not speak to me of loyalty,” the Dwarf snapped before shouting at others. “Throw him from the rampart!”

“No!” Bellarose cried, attempting to go to her brother. She was unfortunately held back by Balin as the others stepped away from her older brother in confusion and concern. When he realized no one was going to obey him, Thorin looked around in surprise before returning to rage. 

“Do you hear me?!” He grabbed Fili’s arm, but the Prince merely shook him off, which did nothing but anger the King further. 

“I will do it myself!” Thorin shouted before lunging at Bilbo. That was when Bellarose finally managed to break free from Balin, pushing herself between her brother and him. 

“Thorin no!” 

“And you,” the Dwarf seethed, which made the Hobbit girl falter. “You knew that he had it and you didn’t think to tell me!” Bellarose stared at him in shock. The betrayed look in his expression made her shake her head quickly. 

“What? No, I didn’t!” 

“She really didn’t,” Bilbo jumped to her aid. 

“I don’t believe you! Either of you! Curse you both!” With that he lunged for them. The girl screamed fearfully when he actually managed to grab the Hobbits, beginning to push them over the rampart while the others attempted to pry him away from them. 

“Cursed be the Wizard that forced you on this Company!” He was suddenly stopped when a booming voice called out. 

“If you don’t like my burglars,” Gandalf started in a formidable tone before returning to a normal volume and tone. “Then please don’t damage them. Return them to me! You’re not making a very splendid figure as King under the mountain, are you? Thorin son of Thrain!” The King slowly let Bilbo and Bellarose up and the others rushed to help them up. 

“Never again will I have dealings with wizards,” Thorin yelled as Bofur gently pushed the Hobbits towards a rope hanging on the wall. 

“Go,” he whispered urgently. Bellarose made to follow her brother but paused when Thorin spoke again. 

“Or Shire-rats!” He continued before his eyes landed on the girl. “Leave my sight before I kill you where you stand.” His threat brought tears to the girl’s eyes. She turned away so he wouldn’t see her tears and clambered down the rope, which Bilbo had already descended. 

As she walked away from the palace she finally allowed her tears to fall. She felt betrayed, like Thorin, but for a different reason. While he was hurt by Bilbo taking the Arkenstone without his knowing, she was hurt by the fact that he had no trust in her and believed she would keep something like that from him. It was as if him finally becoming King under the mountain had given him amnesia, and he had forgotten all that they’d talked about and felt for each other on the journey here. She knew that he wasn’t in his right mind, but it still didn’t stop the hurt. 

Bellarose allowed Bilbo to wrap an arm around her to lead her over to Gandalf. Once they were close enough the Wizard crouched down and pressed a comforting hand on her shoulder as he looked her over, making sure she wasn’t hurt. As he did so, Bard spoke. 

“Are we resolved? The return of the Arkenstone for what was promised.” Bellarose wiped her tears from her eyes then turned to face Thorin. The Dwarf in question was breathing heavily while looking to a ridge in the distance, as if looking for something - or someone. 

“Give us your answer,” Bard demanded. “Will you have peace or war?” A raven suddenly flew up to the ramparts, landing on the ledge beside Thorin. He and the raven stared at each other, then he spoke. 

“I will have war!” 

The Hobbit closed her eyes painfully and turned her head away. Thorin had officially gone over the edge, and it pained her dearly to see. She would have been better off with Thorin's sword through her heart. Her eyes only opened when she heard rumbling in the distance. The ridge in the distance was covered with troops of heavily armored Dwarves, led by a huge Dwarf riding a battle pig. 

“Ironfoot,” Gandalf sighed. The Erebor Dwarves cheered and screamed joyously upon seeing their backup arriving. 

“Ribo i thangail (Rush the shield-fence)!” Thranduil instructed, riding through his army as the Elves and people of Laketown turned away from the gates of Erebor, beginning to march towards the oncoming Dwarves. Gandalf strided along with them, and the Hobbits shared a look before rushing to catch up with him. 

“Who is that?” Bilbo asked. “He doesn’t look very happy.”

“His name is Dain, Lord of the Iron Hills,” Bellarose explained, having recognized the leading Dwarf from a sketch in a Dwarven history book. 

“Thorin’s cousin,” Gandalf added. 

“Are they alike?” Asked Bilbo, making Bellarose look at the Wizard curiously. Gandalf was silent for a few seconds before answering. 

“I always found Thorin the more reasonable of the two.” The two armies stopped a short distance from each other, and Dain rode his pig onto a rocky overlook to address the Elves and Men in front of him. 

“Good morning!” Dain exclaimed in an oddly joyful voice. “How are we all? I have a wee proposition, if you wouldn’t mind giving me a few moments of your time. Would you consider...just sodding off!” The townspeople stepped back in fear at the Dwarf’s surprisingly loud tone, but the Elves pulled out their swords and stepped forward in their place. 

“All of you,” Dain continued. “Right now!”

“Stand fest!” Bard commanded as gandalf strode forward to Dain. 

“Come now, Lord Dain!”

“Gandalf the Grey,” the Dwarf greeted. “Tell this rabble to leave, or I’ll water the ground with their blood!”

“There is no need for war between Dwarves, Men and Elves! A legion of Orcs march on the mountain. Stand your army down!”

“I will not stand down before any elf! Not least this faithless woodland sprite!” Dain exclaimed, gesturing to Thranduil, who looked angry. “He wishes nothing but ill upon my people! If he chooses to stand between me and my kin, I’ll split his pretty head open! See if he’s still smirking then!” The Erebor Dwarves cheered before Thranduil spoke. 

“He’s clearly mad, like his cousin!” Dain grew incensed at the Elf’s words. 

“You hear that, lads?” He called, turning to rejoin his army. “Come on! Let’s give these ithorm lyrr (dagger ears) a good hammering!” The Iron Hills Dwarves cheered as the Elves performed a complicated maneuver to put their shield-and-spear bearers at the front of the army, while the arches stood behind them. As both armies prepared to fight, a rumbling was suddenly heard at the base of a spur of the mountain. Both armies grew silent as they turned to look. 

“Were-worms!” Gandalf whispered, mostly to himself. 

As if on cue, at the spur of the mountain where the rumbling was coming from, massive worms hundreds of feet long and dozens of feet thick broke through the rocks. Their mouths were essentially giant drilling machines, strong enough to crush the toughest rocks in their jaws. The human, Elf, and Dwarf armies looked on in shock.

“Oh, come on!” Dain muttered. 

The worms suddenly retreated into the tunnels they’d made through the mountains approaching the Lonely Mountain. As the mist cleared, Azog and a few other Orcs were seen standing atop a hill. Behind them were several massive contraptions made of wood, rope, and cloth, looking like they were supposed to be signaling devices. Azog yelled something in Black Speech before giving a sign. One of the wooden structures opened up in a particular position, and a horn sounded. Immediately, legions upon legions of Orcs began pouring out of the were-worm tunnels.

“The hordes of hell are upon us!” Dain yelled as he and part of his army turned and rushed towards the oncoming Orcs. “To battle! To battle, sons of Durin!” The Elves stayed where they stood, despite the charging Dwarves being severely outnumbered. 

“The Elves,” Bellarose said worriedly, looking up at Gandalf. “Will they not fight?”

“Thranduil!” The Wizard called, turning to the Elf. “This is madness!” 

Thranduil looked back at the Iron Hills Dwarves, who at that point had stopped and built a shield wall with their massive spears pointed outward. The Orcs were approaching the shield wall, which made Bellarose grow more worried. Thankfully the Elf King had some sense because he signaled for his army to charge the Orcs. Just as the Orcs reach the Dwarves, the Elves leapt up over the shield wall from behind, wielding their swords, and began raining down blows on them. As the Elves pressed forward, the Dwarven shield wall was raised and the Dwarves rushed forward, cutting down Orcs with their spears.As the remaining Elves marched toward the battle, Bellarose realized that she, Gandalf and Bilbo were standing in the same place. 

“Uh, Gandalf, is this a good place to stand?” She asked hesitantly. Before Gandalf could answer, the wooden signal Azog stood in front of changed their position, now showing a new signal. A new legion of Orcs ran out of the tunnels along with massive trolls and a few other monsters. Thranduil shouted something to his troops that Bellarose couldn’t quite hear, causing the Elves to stop and pull out their bows. Then a horn sounded and the signaling device changed yet again. Once again another legion of Orcs that had been waiting for the signal turned and marched toward Dale, which is between the current battle and the tunnels.

“Azog - he’s trying to cut us off,” Gandalf realized aloud. They watched as massive trolls, each large enough to carry multiple other Dwarves and wooden structures such as catapults on their backs, marched toward the city along with the armies of Orcs.

“All of you, fall back to Dale!” Commanded Bard. “Now!” 

“To the city, young Hobbits! This way!” Gandalf yelled as he followed Bard and the people of Laketown towards the city, trying to intercept the Orcs. And thus, the battle had officially begun.

Tag(s): @atomicsoulcollecto