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witchthewriter · 1 year

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𝐋𝐞𝐠𝐨𝐥𝐚𝐬 𝐬𝐞𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐤𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐬/𝐨'𝐬 𝐛𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐬𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐬 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞

⤷ gender neutral, ambiguous race, and any size reader. Requests are open, thank you for reading!

Warning: scars, talking about scars and how reader got them, self harm, battle wounds, getting naked - not smut, keeping it PG and sfw.

ᴹᵃˢᵗᵉʳˡᶤˢᵗ

𝑺𝑭𝑾🌿

・It was one of the first few times that you went home to Legolas’ kingdom

・Sharing his chambers, you had stripped off to bathe

・The candlelight was dim. Slow flickering on every surface, lighting up the room with a warm glow.

・The bath was warm, not scalding but the temperature that you desired.

・Legolas had put in lavender oils and sprigs of thyme, and rose petals

・He liked to do small things like that for you

・The white haired-elf was sitting at his wide oak desk, polishing his blade. His eyes flickered upwards and watched as you climbed in

・But his eyes didn’t cast downwards, instead, they kept on staring at the many scars along your naked form

・He had seen a few in your months of courting. But you never showed him the large red and white scars on your sides, back and arms

・“ Nin mel, hin scars, how did cin get hain?” (My love, these scars, how did you get them?)

・”Ha's a an sinnarn.” (It’s a long tale) you replied, sinking into the depths of the water.

・You scarcely heard his footsteps.

・”Man nad im mel na vedui” (it’s a good thing I love to listen.)

・He came behind you and took the washcloth from your hands, gently moving it across your back, shoulders and neck

・ “War can leave both mental and physical scars,” you started to talk and Legolas sat and listened. He never interrupted, only made small noises of encouragement.

・Legolas was attentive. He memorised every word you said, while tracing the risen healed skin.

・He asked you about every single one, where you got it, how you got it, which weapon was used. Some weren’t given by another being. The mind was a battle-field, and sometimes it was too overwhelming

・Legolas didn’t judge you, not once did you feel ashamed or guilty

・When the bath grew colder, Legolas helped you from your sitting position, with a towel ready

・He wrapped you up tight and walked with you to the bed.

・Legolas treated you so tenderly. Brushing your hair, drying and dressing you. He even laid down beside you and kept on listening

・You didn’t even know you were clinging onto memories. That you needed to tell someone about what happened to you, and what you did to yourself

・You fell asleep in the Elve’s arms, and he wrapped himself protectively around you

・Legolas felt closer to you then, like he saw more of you, and now understood you better

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sindar-princeling · 7 months

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Strider sprang from hiding and dashed down towards the Road, leaping with a cry through the heather; but even before he had moved or called, the rider had reined in his horse and halted, looking up towards the thicket where they stood. When he saw Strider, he dismounted and ran to meet him calling out: Ai na vedui Dúnadan! Mae govannen!

top ten mental images while reading lotr

#lotr newsletter #they be running and screaming what can i say #aragorn #glorfindel #it's mine my own my precious

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wild-lavender-rose · 2 years

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Fighting for Love (Part 7)

Sequel to Hurt/Comfort Series Saving the Enemy

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6

Pairing: Legolas x fem!reader

Category: One-shot (Hurt/Comfort elements)

Backstory: You are Gandalf’s granddaughter. Long ago you were captured by the Mirkwood elves after saving the life of their prince, Legolas Greenleaf. He tended your injuries and the two of you fell in love. But it was a time of war and the fates were cruel, tearing you and Legolas apart on separate paths. Hundreds of years later, you and Legolas meet again on a quest to destroy the One Ring. But when Gandalf is murdered before your very eyes, Legolas fears that he will lose your heart forever.

Warning: Mentions of cannon character death. Shock, disassociation, intense grief.

Galandriel was speaking, searching each of them with her eyes and her mind. Legolas knew the tradition. He understood the reasons and ways behind the queen’s reservations. But this was no time for formality. He was cradling his captive, his beloved, limp in his arms. She was heavily drugged by Aragorn’s herbal concoctions. It had been the only way. Legolas alone had carried her despite Aragorn and his constant offers to assist. He needed Galandriel’s help now. Surely she could sense that something was wrong.

Finally, finally Galandriel’s crystal gaze landed on him, the even expression on her face breaking slightly as she took in the sight before her. “Iel nin,” she crossed to where Legolas stood, the fellowship parting so that she could pass. “ Ennas na- baw injurui.” It was both a statement and a question.

“Ha na- hen mán.” Legolas blinked against the painful sting in his eyes as Galandriel brushed the hair off of his beloved’s pale forehead.

“Tul- na nin.” Galandriel took her from Legolas easily, the swiftness of it causing him to sway unsteadily.

Aragorn took a step towards him.

“I will care for her now.” Galandriel spoke, addressing the entire Fellowship. “Rest, for you are weary in both body and soul.”

“My place is by her side.” Legolas drew himself up despite the fatigue washing over him. “I must be there when she wakes.”

“Legolas,” Aragorn touched his arm. “She has spoken.”

“Would you not do the same?” Legolas looked at him.

The tears in Aragorn’s eyes said more than any words could. But he did not release him. “Please, mellon nin.”

“Vedui- na Aragorn.” Haldir stepped between Legolas and Galandriel. “Cin baur post.”

Helplessness had begun to drown Legolas. He allowed Aragorn to guide him away, gaze fastened to the pale face of his beloved. Please, beloved, he thought, come back to me. I cannot lose you again.

# # # # #

You woke to Galandriel singing in your ear, her soft voice sending you back into the memories of when you were a child. Gandalf had been worried that you would become rough and unladylike should you be raised by him alone. Galandriel proved an obvious choice for a maternal figure. When you were not traveling with Gandalf or learning from Elrond you spent your time with Galandriel, learning the ways of a elvish lady.

But that had been so long ago, back when you were a little girl determined to become a woman. Now you were both a woman and a warrior with a thousand adventures under your belt. Now you were strong and experienced and prepared. And yet, never before had you felt so weak.

“Naneth,” you opened your eyes. You were lying on a bed of the softest furs wearing a gown of white silk. Your skin felt fresh and clean. Your hair lay brushed and shining against the pillow. The ache in your head was dull yet ever present. Just like the ache in your heart from Gandalf’s absence. An ache that could not be healed.

I’m here, Galandriel’s voice sounded in your thoughts, speaking the language of men. She was standing at the edge of the small wooded clearing you found yourself in, the hazy moonlight and fiery blue torches reflecting off her figure as she stooped to dip a cloth into a wooden basin of water.

You sat up slowly, gripping the furs as emotions swept over you. This was not a dream. None of it was a dream. Your eyes filled with tears as the memory of the Balrog invaded your mind, followed by Gandalf’s last words given only to you. She will explain everything, he said.

Galandriel crossed to you with the cloth in hand. Her brow was wrinkled in worry, an emotion she usually concealed with ease. You looked up at her as she knelt beside you. “He’s gone.”

“It is but a temporary state.” Galandriel pressed the cool cloth to your cheek. “The pain will pass.”

“Tell me,” you reached up and grasped her wrist. Her skin was softer than the finest of silks. “Gandalf said that she would explain everything. You are the only woman in his life besides myself.”

Galandriel searched your face with her gaze. Then she seemed to come to a resolution within herself and pulled the cloth away. “Do you know where you came from?”

“I am from the bloodline of men. My mother and father were killed in the first war against evil.” You said it without thinking, waiting for her to continue.

Galandriel’s head tilted ever so slightly. “Then why have you been spared from the lifespan of a mortal?”

“Because...” Your brow furrowed. “Because Gandalf’s magic gave me the lifespan of a wizard.”

“Gandalf is dead. All his magic died with him.” Galandriel looked at you closely. “Who are you, little one?”

“I...I am the granddaughter of Gandalf.”

“In your heart and mind, yes. But in this world, Gandalf has no granddaughter.”

“But...” Your heart was beating faster now, however you knew not what there was to cause such anxiety. “Gandalf saved me after my parent’s death. He raised me as his own, taught me his magic,”

“How many seasons had you seen when Gandalf claimed you as his?”

“...I don’t understand.”

“What were the names of your mother and father?”

“I...I...” The ache in your head grew worse. You ran your fingers through your hair, staring at nothing as you searched through your earliest memories for answers. But the further back your thoughts went, the more questions seemed to arise. “I don’t remember.” You breathed.

A sad smile settled on Galandriel’s lips. “You remember not because there is no memory to grasp. You never had parents. You are not from the bloodline of men.”

The shock of her words jolted through you. You stood up, swaying unsteadily as you walked away from her to the edge of the clearing. You had no memories. You had no origins.

You reached out and ran your fingers along the rough bark of a tree, using it to support your trembling body. “The earliest memory I possess...is being found by Gandalf...I was in the woods...I didn’t know where I was, or...who I was.” A tear slipped down your cheek. “Gandalf claimed me.”

“You are maia, little one.” There was the soft rustle of Galandriel’s dress as she stood. “Incarnated to walk these lands once again.”

“No, surely this is impossible.”

“Gandalf nor I were given understanding as to why you had been placed in the forest with no memory. Perhaps it is a curse from the life you lived before. But Gandalf’s heart was impressed with the sense that he was to care for you and unsure that you learned according to the ways of men and elves.”

“But why, Mother?” you turned to look at her. “If it is true and I am cursed, what is my purpose now? Why am I here? Why did the fates give me you and Gandalf and...and Legolas. Why have I been given the honor of assisting in countless quests?”

Galandriel took a deep breath. When she spoke, her voice sounded deeper, as if there was another, stronger being speaking through her soul. “You have been chosen for this moment. You will assist in joining the lands by uniting the tribes of men and elves.”

“No,” you shook your head, backing up until you hit the tree you had been leaning on. “No, I cannot do such a thing. Our world teeters on the brink of war. A tiny hobbit carries one of the strongest powers ever created. Gandalf has died. You cannot give me this task, I will never succeed.”

“You have no choice.”

“I refuse!” You screamed, wiping angrily at the tears running down your cheeks.”

“Daughter,” Galandriel’s voice grew soft once more.

You looked up at her. She gave a gentle smile and held out her arms. You ran into her embrace without question, just as you did when you were small. Galandriel held you close, shushing you as she ran her fingers through your hair. You hugged her tightly. She smelled of the woods and the ocean and moonflowers at their peak. Your tears made her shoulder damp. You were shaking violently, crying out of fear and shock and sadness. How could your entire existence change in a mere moment? Why was this happening to you?

After what felt like an eternity, Galandriel pulled away to look into your eyes. “Listen to me,” she began, tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear. “It may seem impossible, but the truth you now hold will give you strength. Your powers are strong, perhaps even stronger than mine. Use them for battle. Use them to win. If this is truly the task you have been chosen for, then you will succeed.”

“What of Legolas?” Your heart gave a painful twinge. “I must leave him again. He would only serve as a distraction for my purpose.”

“Or the fates could use him to aid you in your task. Trust in your heart.”

“My head and heart are at war now.” You wiped the tears away once more and stepped back. “I must think.”

Galandriel nodded. “Go and reflect. I will ensure that you are not disturbed.”

You nodded back without fully hearing her words. “Thank you, Mother.”

“Of course, my daughter.” Galandriel watched as you turned and walked away, giving another long, heavy sigh.

She could hear your thoughts swirling about in your head, struggling to make sense of all that had happened. But the thought that sounded loudest was that you did not want to see Legolas. The belief that the day’s events were reason to severe the bond between your two hearts.

It worried Galandriel. She knew all too well that one’s spiraling thoughts could quickly lead to grievous error. She could not let that happen, especially not to you.

It was this thought that caused Galandriel to turn and walk in the opposite direction, heading towards where the Fellowship had been sent to rest for the night.

Iel nin = My daughter

Ennas na- baw injurui = There is no injury.

Ha na- hen mán = It is her spirit.

Tul- na nin = Come to me.

Mellon nin = My friend

Vedui- na Aragorn = Listen to Aragorn.

Cin baur post = You need rest.

Naneth = Mother

Fanfic Masterlist

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eglerieth · 7 months

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Translating the Song of Beren and Luthien into Sindarin!

i laid nî ann, in glae nî calen

i saew-lûth tond a bain

a mi i lant - ae! - calad

o giliath mi doath silivren

Tinúviel nî lilt ennas

an linnas o thibin altirad

a galad o giliath nî mi finnathdeith

a mi hammadeith silivren

ennas Beren tùliel o ered ring

a dom ranë nu lais

a mivan i heb-edhil duin nornt

padantë air a nírol

cenë mi i saew-lais

a tírant di elven mellys

po colldeith a rainc-hammadeith

a finnadeith sui dae aphadol

elven nestant taildeid lom

han thar emyn nî amarthan an rain

a e rongantë, thalion a lim

a mabant na aglannim o ithil celair

tre-remmen glad mi Neldoreth

is colui horthant na lilthatail

a lefn Beren air eno an rain

mi i dínen tawar lastad

lhaent ennas rem i rimp law

o tail colui sui melhûn-galadh lais

egor linnas eithela nucae

mi thurin gryd potha

hi thern hoda i saew-thrimpim

a mîn-ar-mîn na fírlaw

na lhoss dannant i neldor-lais

mi i rhîw-taur potha

e cestant ín him, raun haer

mivan lais o íniath nî delch hodant

ar calad o ithil a aglann o el

mí menel sui hell potha

colldeith glînnant mîn i ithilgalad

ir bo amoncaw raud a haer

Tinúviel lilthant, a na taildeith nî hodant

hîth o celeb potha

ir rhîw lúda, ad-tolantë

a linnë leithiant i bragol ethuil

sui orthad amrent, a dannad ross

a medhiant nen gwelch

tírantë i edhellys eithela

os taildeith, a ad-cyrant

anírantë arë an lilt a linnon

or i glae algumri

adribant dîn ach lim tolantë

Tinúviel! Tinúviel!

estannenë in di edhel-enethdeith

a tass dîn darant lastad

min luig tarant dîn, a lûth

glimdeid caedant bo dîn: Beren tolant

a amarth dannant bo Tinúviel

han mi raincë hodant silivren

ir Beren cennant mî hent dîn

mîn i dúaith o fingimdeith

i potha gilgalad o i menel

tírantë ennas cenedrilant silivren

Tinúviel i edhel-bain

alfirin gwen edhel-sael

os Beren hantant gwathui fingimdeith

a rainc sui celeb silivren

annan nî i yr amarth ti colant

thar sarn emyn ring a mith

tre-rynd o ang a morn fen

a taurim o dúath alordolel

i sathantgaer mi ti hodant

a ach na vedui ti ad-govannen

a annan-ia ti gwanwen

mi i taur lindant alnaeras

#eglerieth #tolkien #lotr #silmarillion #lord of the rings #sindarin #elvish #tale of beren and luthien #luthien tinuviel #song of Beren and Luthien #luthien #beren #tinuviel #Silm

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marietheran · 3 months

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LotR reread - book 1, chapter 12 - Flight to the Ford

"More deadly to him was the name of Elbereth" ✧*:･

How come Gondor never figured it out though? Or didn't they? The Ringwraiths are certainly weaker here, but it fits that they have such a weakness. And yet they cannot be too weak because - story. ¯\_🤔_/¯

Aragorn: My heart is in Rivendell

Aragorn's mysterious allusions to Arwen counter at 1

"Bill Ferny's poor old pony was developing an unexpected talent for picking out a path, and for sparing its rider as many jolts as possible" - I'm hardly a horse girl, but well done, dear pony.

Glorfindel!!!

Bells ringing et all. "Hey, it's me, the Balrog-slayer! Ringwraiths, wanna try and stop me?"

Apparently "Ai na vedui Dunadan" sounds like if it means "It isn't a drunken Dunadan" to Welsh speakers, or so I've heard

Mhm, it seems like whenever Glorfindel encountered any Nazgul they did the wise thing and skedaddled in the other direction.

Ok, this is chilling. The Road goes down a hollow in which their footsteps echo; they come out into the open and there are still footsteps heard behind them.

Why does Sting glow red next to Nazgul, apparently? Or is it because Frodo is wounded with the morgul-blade?

"By Elbereth and Lúthien the Fair you shall have neither the Ring nor me!" *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Somehow Frodo is at his most badass when he calls upon someone else.

#lotr reread #the professor's mythopoeia #lotr #original post

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is-it-mungojerry-or-rumpelteazer · 2 years

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When he saw Strider, he dismounted and ran to meet him calling out: Ai na vedui Dúnadan! Mae govannen!

Elven-obsessed side of tumblr: can someone tell me what’s he saying here?

#lotr newsletter #lord of the rings #text posts #quotes #elves #glorfindel

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ebaeschnbliah · 2 years

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Suddenly into view below came a white horse, gleaming in the shadows, running swiftly. In the dusk its headstall flickered and flashed, as if it were studded with gems like living stars. The rider's cloak streamed behind him, and his hood was thrown back; his golden hair flowed shimmering in the wind of his speed. To Frodo it appeared that a white light was shining through the form and raiment of the rider, as if through a thin veil.

Ai na vedui Dúnadan! Mae govannen!

His speech and clear ringing voice left no doubt in their hearts: the rider was of the Elven-folk. No others that dwelt in the wide world had voices so fair to hear. But there seemed to be a note of haste or fear in his call, and they saw that he was now speaking quickly and urgently to Strider. Soon Strider beckoned to them, and the hobbits left the bushes and hurried down to the Road. 'This is Glorfindel, who dwells in the house of Elrond,' said Strider.

'Hail, and well met at last!' said the Elf-lord to Frodo. 'I was sent from Rivendell to look for you. We feared that you were in danger upon the road.'

.......

While Glorfindel was speaking the shades of evening deepened. Frodo felt a great weariness come over him. Ever since the sun began to sink the mist before his eyes had darkened, and he felt that a shadow was coming between him and the faces of his friends. Now pain assailed him, and he felt cold. He swayed, clutching at Sam's arm.

'My master is sick and wounded,' said Sam angrily. 'He can't go on riding after nightfall. He needs rest.'

Glorfindel caught Frodo as he sank to the ground, and taking him gently in his arms he looked in his face with grave anxiety.

Briefly Strider told of the attack on their camp under Weathertop, and of the deadly knife. He drew out the hilt, which he had kept, and handed it to the Elf. Glorfindel shuddered as he took it, but he looked intently at it.

'There are evil things written on this hilt,' he said; 'though maybe your eyes cannot see them. Keep it, Aragorn, till we reach the house of Elrond! But be wary, and handle it as little as you may! Alas! the wounds of this weapon are beyond my skill to heal. I will do what I can - but all the more do I urge you now to go on without rest.'

He searched the wound on Frodo's shoulder with his fingers, and his face grew graver, as if what he learned disquieted him. But Frodo felt the chill lessen in his side and arm; a little warmth crept down from his shoulder to his hand, and the pain grew easier. The dusk of evening seemed to grow lighter about him, as if a cloud had been withdrawn. He saw his friends' faces more clearly again, and a measure of new hope and strength returned.

JRR Tolkien, The Lord of the Rings, The Fellowship of the Ring, Flight to the Ford

#the lord of the rings #the fellowship of the ring #flight to the ford #jrr tolkien #glorfindel #asfaloth #frodo #sam #merry #pippin #aragorn #arwen #bill the pony #movie pics #peter jackson

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silksworn · 8 months

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𝐃𝐀𝐔𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐄𝐑, 𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐃𝐋𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑, 𝐌𝐔𝐑𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐒 / @finifugality

𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐃 𝐒𝐄𝐄𝐏𝐒 𝐁𝐄𝐓𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐍 cobblestone, scarlet rivers following grout paths. The stream soon overflows its banks, heedless of the mess it leaves. Iraestra's steps leave behind scarlet footprints. The bottoms of her boots are slick, sinking softly into the mud once the path ends. She lifts her skirts so they do not drag in the filth — viscera, excrement, other innards so defiled that she can no longer categorize what they might have once been.

Concentrated effort is put into keeping her features from twisting as they beg to. Not in shock or even empathy, but revulsion. Of the Three, the Lord of Murder is perhaps the one whose ways remain the most inscrutable to her. Many a life she has taken without remorse, but she does not consider herself so ghoulish as to dance upon corpses. There is much merrymaking amongst the Bhaalyn, who near religious ecstasy. They are rapturous, resplendent mockeries of life itself clothed in despoiler's finery.

The amulet of Myrkul heavy upon her breast marks her as ally. Still, she makes her way quickly through most profane revelry. She is not here to languish amongst these butchers.

It is almost with relief that she finds the head of white hair she has been seeking at the heart of the hecatomb. An irony, that she should be glad to see Bhaal's sharpest blade. At least it is not the pale sister, all twisted snake-tongue and logic. The mark of Myrkul might mean little yet to Orin should she be deep in the throes of her murder-lust.

"Vedui'. You are no longer a myth," Iraestra calls, hiding her trepidation well. Never before has she treated with the ktonos. She prays that the other woman proves to be more reasonable, though she holds little faith. Madness runs deep within Bhaal's seed. "Iraestra Oblodra, Magus of Mykrul. I greet you, godspawn. I have come far to seek an audience."

Directly above their heads swings a man gored through the belly. Freshly killed, he still drips out his wretched offering. Bled like a boar, hands suspended upwards as if in supplication. Eyeless sockets see nothing but the yawning blackness of death.

"May Myrkul take his soul well," a reflex. "An...esoteric display," she aims for diplomacy and falls somewhat short. She steps aside so that she is not in danger of catching his drippings upon her clothing. Her robes are far too fine for the current surroundings.

#finifugality #i hope this is okay! if not let me know and we can do something else #also i apologize for the length don't feel obligated to match #☾ verse 3 ! ❛ —— ( cultist )#blood tw #gore tw #graphicish descriptions under cut

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bisexualbumblebee-writes · 1 year

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Returning Home Chapter 6- Thorin Oakenshield x OC

Thorin Oakenshield x Bellarose Baggins

Description: The Company arrives in Rivendell to talk to Lord Elrond about some runes on a map.

Word Count: 2.2k

Bellarose saw a few Elves stroll about the valley as the Company walked across a bridge to enter Rivendell. She had to refrain from staring at them, but she came really close. She just couldn’t help it though, she’d never seen any in real life. She’d only ever read about them or seen drawings of them.

It was only when the Company came to a stop in front of a large staircase that she couldn’t see the top of that she finally tore her wondering gaze from their surroundings to look at her companions. She was surprised to see that all of them either looked on edge or just uneasy in general. She opened her mouth to question Bofur, who stood closer to her, but was stopped by a smooth and soft voice.

“Mithrandir.” Bellarose turned to see a dark haired Elf walking down the flight of stairs they stood in front of. He was beautiful, but she should have expected that.

“Ah, Lindir,” Gandalf greeted with a smile, stepping closer to the Elf. Bellarose heard several Dwarves behind her murmur amongst themselves, obviously not trusting the very visibly harmless Elf.

“Lastannem i athrannedh i Vruinen (We heard you had crossed into the Valley),” Lindir said.

“I must speak with Lord Elrond,” Gandalf informed him.

“My lord Elrond is not here.”

“Not here? Where is he?” That same horn Bellarose heard when they were in the cave suddenly rang out again. Everyone turned around and was met with a group of armed horsemen approaching them at a rapid rate.

“Ifridî bekâr (Ready weapons)!” Thorin yelled. “Hold ranks!” The Dwarves bunched up together in a tight circle that Bellarose was pushed into the middle of, their weapons pointing outwards. The Elves rode in circles around them before coming to a stop. One of the horsemen separated himself from the rest and grinned at the Gray Wizard.

“Gandalf.”

“Lord Elrond,” Gandalf bowed to him. “Mellonnen! Mo evínedh (My friend! Where have you been)?”

“Farannem ‘lamhoth i udul o charad. Dagannem rim na Iant Vedui (We’ve been

hunting a pack of Orcs that came up from the South. We slew a number near the Hidden Pass),” the Elf explained as he dismounted his horse. He and Gandalf shared a hug before continuing.

“Strange for Orcs to come so close to our borders. Something, or someone, has drawn them near,” he commented, holding up what appeared to be an Orc sword. He showed it to the group before handing it to Lindir as Gandalf spoke.

“Ah, that may have been us.” Thorin stepped forward from the circle, and a look of recognition crossed Lord Elrond’s face.

“Welcome Thorin, son of Thrain,” he greeted.

“I do not believe we have met,” Thorin muttered.

“You have your grandfather’s bearing,” the Elf explained. “I knew Thror when he ruled under the Mountain.”

“Indeed; he made no mention of you.” Bellarose shot him a reprimanding look that he ignored. Elrond chose to ignore the Dwarf’s insult as he looked at his fellow Elves.

“Nartho i noer, toltho i viruvor. Boe i annam vann a nethail vin (Light the fires, bring forth the wine. We must feed our guests),” he instructed.

“What is he saying?” Gloin questioned fiercely. “Does he offer us insult?” The Dwarves grew bellicose and gripped their weapons uneasily, which made Bellarose roll her eyes.

“Of course he doesn’t, master Gloin,” she retorted, catching everyone’s attention. “He’s offering you food.” The Dwarves looked amongst themselves, having a quiet discussion before facing forward again.

“Ah well, in that case, lead on.”

“You speak Elvish?” Bilbo asked in surprise.

“Surely you don’t think I read all those books just to look intelligent,” the younger Baggins joked in response as she followed the others up the staircase, earning a few laughs from their companions.

Dinner was rather…eventful. The Company was given a shorter table so they could dine comfortably, which they appreciated. What the Dwarves did not appreciate was the abundance of vegetables and lack of meat. Not to mention the music that accompanied dinner. The Dwarves ate as much as they could manage (which wasn’t a lot, to be honest), then everything went off to either bathe in luxury or just relax in their temporary rooms.

Bellarose, meanwhile, found herself following Thorin, Bilbo, Gandalf and Lord Elrond out to an open area not far from the Last Homely House in Rivendell. She watched with bated breath as Lord Elrond walked to the middle of the space and set Thorin’s map on a large crystalline table. Her eyes spared a quick glance to her leader, immediately noting how tense he was, likely because an Elf was holding his precious map (which she had learned by now was the equivalent of spitting on his father’s grave apparently). As if feeling her eyes on him, he faced her. She merely offered him a reassuring smile as Lord Elrond spoke.

“These runes were written on a Midsummer's Eve by the light of a crescent moon nearly two hundred years ago,” he paused then faced Thorin.” It would seem you were meant to come to Rivendell. Fate is with you, Thorin Oakenshield; the same moon shines upon us tonight.” At that, everyone looked up to see clouds passing over the moon, which shone on the crystalline table. Bellarose watched in awe as light flowed through the map, causing glowing white runes to fade into view. Once they were all there, the Elf Lord read them aloud.

“Stand by the gray stone when the thrush knocks, and the setting sun with the last light of Durin's Day will shine upon the keyhole.”

“Durin’s Day?” Bilbo repeated curiously.

“It is the start of the Dwarves' new year, when the last moon of autumn and the first sun of winter appear in the sky together,” Gandalf explained.

“This is ill news,” Thorin shook his head. “Summer is passing. Durin's day will soon be upon us.”

“We still have time, Thorin,” Bellarose interjected.

“Time? For what?” Bilbo questioned from the other side of Thorin.

“To find the entrance,” Balin answered this time. “We have to be standing at exactly the right spot at exactly the right time. Then, and only then, can the door be opened.”

“So this is your purpose, to enter the Mountain?” Elrond asked.

“What of it?” Thorin shot back gruffly. Elrond merely shook his head.

“There are some who would not deem it wise.” He held the map out, to which Thorin took it while Bellarose stared at the Elf confusedly.

“What do you mean by that, Lord Elrond?” The Elf didn’t look at her, but at Gandalf as he answered.

“You are not the only guardian to stand watch over Middle Earth.” With that he walked away, leaving everyone else behind and Gandalf turning away, deep in thought.

Later that evening Bellarose took a bath, happy to finally scrub away the dirt and grime she’d accumulated without having to wait her turn in a freezing river. It was refreshing, like she’d been given a reward for making it this far in the quest. She stayed there for hours, far after her fingers and toes began pruning. After she finally managed to pull herself out of the tub she took great care in drying herself off, reveling in how soft the towels provided for her were.

Once that was done, she was hesitant to put her dress (which had been taken, cleaned and dried while she bathed) back on. Now don’t get her wrong she loved her dress, it was one of her favorite traveling dresses. But she’d come to learn that dresses were not good to wear during a journey such as this. The chafing of her legs was a testament of that. She sighed softly and picked up her chemise, slipping it on. Before she could get much further she heard a knock on the bathroom door.

“Come in.” With her permission the door opened and in walked an Elf maid, Marina.

“I hope you enjoyed your bath, My Lady,” she spoke, earning a nod from the girl.

“I did, thank you.” Marina smiled at her,

“Well, I’ve just come to make sure you did not require anything else. Is there anything else I can do for you before you return to your companions?” Bellarose opened her mouth to say no, but then she paused.

“Actually… Can I make an odd request?”

Just a little while later Bellarose stood in front of the bathroom’s mirror, now wearing brown trousers. They were form fitting, and surprisingly comfortable despite that. Apparently they belonged to Lord Elrond’s daughter Arwen, and he graciously donated them to the Hobbit upon her request. It felt odd to have her legs so constricted, having worn dresses all her life, but she couldn't deny how much movement it gave her. Not to mention how good they looked on her. The thought made her smile as she faced Marina, who walked back into the bathroom once again.

“These are the smallest pair I could find,” the Elf informed her, looking apologetic as she held out a small pair of shears. They were still a bit big in the Hobbit’s hands, but they were okay nonetheless.

“They’re perfect,” the girl reassured her with a grateful smile. “I require nothing more, thank you, Lady Marina.” The Elf merely bowed her head before leaving, closing the door behind her and leaving Bellarose alone. She took a deep breath then faced her reflection in front of her, grabbing the chemise in one hand and holding up the shears in the other.

By the end of it the girl had cut off the entire skirt of her chemise, leaving only the top, which was now under her green girdle. It took a while to even it out to her liking, but she eventually managed to get it. She threw the skirt away and decided that she was ready to meet up with the rest of the Company.

She quietly made her way down the hall to the Company’s quarters. As she grew closer the smell of sausages cooking filled her senses, which made her stomach grumble (hey, even a Hobbit couldn’t live on vegetables alone). Just as she opened the door she heard Bofur call his brother’s name. She watched as he threw a sausage at Bombur, who caught it with ease from where he sat on an Elven bench. It seemed that the sausage was just too much for the bench because without warning the bench broke. Bombur shrieked as he fell straight onto his back, spilling his plate of food everywhere. In an instant the Dwarves burst into uproarious laughter while Bellarose stared at them in shock.

“Boys!” She exclaimed in a reprimanding tone, causing all laughter to cease and the entire Company to face her. “It is incredibly rude to break and burn furniture that doesn’t belong to you. Where in the world have your manners gone?” Everyone stared at her in shock, though it took her a moment to realize that it wasn’t because of her scolding. Instead all eyes were on the lack of skirt that covered her legs and pants she now wore. She rolled her eyes and huffed in annoyance.

“Here, take a good look,” she said, holding her arms out and spinning once to allow them to see the full extent of her wardrobe change. “Alright, now listen to me!”

She began to scold them, but was unfortunately stopped short when the door opened behind her. She turned and was met with none other than Thorin, and just like the others whatever he was feeling at the moment was replaced with shock upon giving her a once over. He just stood there for a minute or two, staring at her. With the others she didn’t care what they thought, but for some reason it felt different with Thorin.

It looked like he was trying to figure out whether he liked it or not. For the first time that night she felt…self conscious? And what a confusing and uncomfortable feeling that was. Why was she letting his examination get to her like this? She had no idea, but she hated it. Just when she felt like she couldn’t take it anymore, he finally looked at her face. Once again their eyes met, though instead of having an impartial gaze, his eyes now had a hint of mirth in them. A small smile formed on his face as he nodded at her.

“You look good,” was all he said. Bellarose tried to ignore the heat in her face as she smiled at him.

“Thank you.” The Dwarf merely nodded at her before looking around.

“If we are to slip past Elrond we need to leave right at dawn, so get as much sleep as you can,” he instructed, making his way over to one of the beds. The Company did as he said and finished eating quickly. After making sure the fire was extinguished Bellarose climbed into bed, falling asleep almost as soon as her head hit the pillow, allowing her to sleep peacefully and comfortably for the first time in months.

#the hobbit #the hobbit imagine #thorin oakenshield #thorin imagine #thorin x oc

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k-she-rambles · 2 years

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When he saw Strider, he dismounted and ran to meet him calling out: Ai na vedui Dúnadan! Mae govannen!

Some of my kindred, journeying in your land beyond the Baranduin,

No thoughts just elven place names in a Westron sentence. Our first character for whom the Common Speech feels like...not a concession exactly, but not quite as important as their mother tongue

Westron with a heavy Sindarin accent

#lotr newsletter #it *is* the hobbits mother tongue #cf strider who probably grew up trilingual

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plx-scribbles · 1 year

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✨The 2023 Lord of the Rings Re-read ✨

I've been promising myself this for ages, and now I'll finally get to it: a LotR re-read! ✨

Tolkien was important to me growing up, and the movies (back in the day) and the discussions around them were one of my first deep dives into fandom... But it's been years since I've actually read the whole book from beginning to end.

I'm not promising a schedule; I'll see how it goes. I'm hoping to take a proper look at the text, critique, analysis, whathaveyou, but there's also going to be a fair bit of reminiscing (inevitably).

So - ai na vedui - here it starts:

I'll be happy to discuss this, too!

(I'm going to be tagging all of this plx-reads for now)

#lotr #plx-reads

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i-am-darth-feanor · 2 years

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Sword and Arrow: Chapter 2

Fandom: The Lord of the Rings

Pairings: Aragorn/Female OC, Aragorn/Boromir

Chapter warnings: none :)

Fic summary/blurb thing: 🏹⚔️ 👑𝐑𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫. 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐨𝐫. 𝙆𝙞𝙣𝙜.👑⚔️ 🏹The Rangers of the North are known far and wide for their skills in battle and secrecy. Of this taciturn group of Dúnedain, two are especially renowned for their deeds in battle: Aragorn, the Lord of the Dúnedain and Commandant of Rangers, and Beruthiel, his second-in-command.When Aragorn receives a dire summons from Rivendell but is wandering the Wild on some business of his, Beruthiel rides with haste from Fornost to find him. Once they reach Rivendell, she is invited to the secretive Council of Elrond and, unwilling to leave her friend's side, she joins the group known as the Fellowship of the Ring.From there, Beruthiel is thrown onto a thrilling ride of adventure, love, death, and heartbreak as she meets - and loses - people who she would fight with sword and arrow for. [somewhat inspired by Ranger’s Apprentice]

Chapter summary: Our main characters meet (again).

~👑🗡️🏹~

CHAPTER 2

A Ranger pushed four hobbits into a bush, then jumped after them. One of them was riding a baggage pony. "What is it, Strider?" a brown-haired one whispered.

"Shhh," Strider hissed. He pressed his ear against the ground, then drew the dark-haired hobbit further into the bushes. "A rider," he said. The hobbits' eyes went wide, and they fell silent.

A few seconds later, they heard hoofbeats on the road above, then the sound of the person dismounting. The Ranger risked a glance. The rider was swathed in a dark cloak and his face was hooded. His horse was as black as the night. Strider kept looking through a gap in the bushes and tried not to breathe too loudly.

The figure bent to the ground, seemingly inspecting something, they stood up and looked straight at where the five were hiding. Dang it. Have I really grown that bad at hiding? Strider's breath caught and his hand went to his sword-hilt, ready to draw it at a moment's notice and face down the Nazgul if need be.

"You can come out now, Aragorn," the figure said teasingly. "I see you." Strider let out a relieved breath. Thank the Valar, it's her. He crawled out of the bushes and helped the four hobbits out. The dark-haired hobbit's face was strained with pain as Strider placed him back on the baggage pony.

The figure pushed back her hood. "I've been searching for you for the past nine days," Wildcat said breathlessly. "Lord Glorfindel is as well. Have you met him?"

"No," Strider replied. "Nine days?"

"Aye, Elrond sent word to Fornost that he needs you. I rode to Rivendell to take your place, telling him that you were off on an errand of Gandalf's. He gave me The Eyebrow and asked me to search for you."

"He needs me?"

"He did not tell me why, he said it is an important business concerning the War."

Strider snorted. "Sounds like him."

"He also said something about a Ring," Wildcat continued, dropping her voice. She stole a glance at the dark-haired hobbit. "Is it true?" Strider nodded. Wildcat looked over at the two sandy-haired hobbits, who, in her opinion, looked exactly alike. Both looked dead on their feet. "The hobbits can have my horse," she said. "Though I warn you, he's as tired as you look."

Strider lifted the two youngest-looking hobbits onto the huge horse as they both muttered a word of thanks. The Ranger apologetically looked down at the last hobbit remaining. "I'm sorry, Sam, perhaps you can ride with Frodo?" he asked.

"I can walk more yet," Sam bravely said. Strider narrowed his eyes but nodded. Suddenly, he froze, hearing hoofbeats. Wildcat shook her head.

"That would be Glorfindel," she said. Indeed, the sound of hooves was accompanied by the jangling of bells. The elven rider drew his great white horse to a stop, calling out a greeting.

"Ai, na vedui Dunedain! Mae Govannen!" He nodded towards Wildcat, then dismounted and approached Strider. "Is he..." He nodded towards Frodo.

"Still alive, aye," Strider said. "But fading quickly."

"Get him onto Asfaloth," Glorfindel said. Strider nodded and lifted the hobbit off the baggage pony and onto the white horse.

"My lord," Wildcat said. "I just barely got away from the Naz- Ulairi." Glorfindel sharply looked at her. "They will be pursuing me now, they know my intention." The elf-lord cursed under his breath, much to Wildcat's amusement. I didn't know elf-lords were supposed to do that.

"I will take him to Rivendell," Glorfindel said, swinging up into the saddle behind the hobbit. "The Riders will be pursuing him, and we will be faster on Asfaloth than on foot." Strider nodded, and Glorfindel wheeled his horse around and rode off.

"Who is she?" one of the sandy-haired hobbits whispered to the other.

"She's an elf, isn't she?" he responded.

"No, the one that just left was an elf! She doesn't have pointed ears. And besides, she isn't pretty enough to be an elf." Wildcat exchanged an exasperated look with Strider, who was barely suppressing his laughter.

"I think she's his wife," the second one declared. Wildcat burst out laughing.

"You are his wife, aren't you?" the first one asked her.

"Nope," she responded. "I'm his deputy."

"She's his wife," the first one whispered to the other. Wildcat raised an eyebrow at Strider.

"I'm not married," he said. "And not planning to be soon, either."

"You do realize that most of the men in Fornost want you to marry their daughters?" Wildcat asked him.

"Wait, what?" Wildcat shook her head. Strider sighed. "Merry, Pippin, this is Wildcat. She's a Ranger, and she's my second-in-command."

"He's an important person?" one of the hobbits, presumably Pippin, whispered to the other. "I thought he was just a vagabond who managed to wander by."

Wildcat looked at Strider. "You realize that I'm going to mercilessly tease you about that," she said. Strider sighed again.

"This is going to be a long trip."

[A/N] I promise it gets much better.

Sword and Arrow Masterpost

#sword and arrow #darth feanor's writing #lotr #lord of the rings #lotr fanfiction #aragorn #boromir #legolas #aragorn x oc #aragorn x boromir #fanfiction

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