#hobbits shall have tails !!!

[ynnu-64]

brave hobbit

#my art #art #frodo baggins #lotr #lotr fanart #lord of the rings #the lord of the rings #lotr frodo #the hobbit #i love frodo so much #after like 11 years of loving lotr i will finally read the books #finally getting them #hobbits shall have tails !!!

[ebaeschnbliah]

Following with his keen eyes the trail to the river, and then the river back towards the forest, Aragorn saw a shadow on the distant green, a dark swift-moving blur. He cast himself upon the ground and listened again intently. But Legolas stood beside him, shading his bright elven-eyes with his long slender hand, and he saw not a shadow, nor a blur, but the small figures of horsemen, many horsemen, and the glint of morning on the tips of their spears was like the twinkle of minute stars beyond the edge of mortal sight. Far behind them a dark smoke rose in thin curling threads. There was a silence in the empty fields, arid Gimli could hear the air moving in the grass.

'Riders!' cried Aragorn, springing to his feet.

'Many riders on swift steeds are coming towards us!'

'Yes,' said Legolas, 'there are one hundred and five. Yellow is their hair, and bright are their spears. Their leader is very tall.'

Aragorn smiled. 'Keen are the eyes of the Elves,' he said.

'Nay! The riders are little more than five leagues distant,' said Legolas.

'Five leagues or one,' said Gimli; 'we cannot escape them in this bare land. Shall we wait for them here or go on our way?'

'We will wait,' said Aragorn. 'I am weary, and our hunt has failed. Or at least others were before us; for these horsemen are riding back down the orc-trail. We may get news from them.'

'Or spears,' said Gimli.

'There are three empty saddles, but I see no hobbits,' said Legolas.

'I did not say that we should hear good news,' said Aragorn. 'But evil or good we will await it here.'

The three companions now left the hill-top, where they might be an easy mark against the pale sky, and they walked slowly down the northward slope. A little above the hill's foot they halted, and wrapping their cloaks about them, they sat huddled together upon the faded grass. The time passed slowly and heavily. The wind was thin and searching. Gimli was uneasy.

'What do you know of these horsemen, Aragorn?' he said. 'Do we sit here waiting for sudden death?'

'I have been among them,' answered Aragorn. 'They are proud and wilful, but they are true-hearted, generous in thought and deed; bold but not cruel; wise but unlearned, writing no books but singing many songs, after the manner of the children of Men before the Dark Years. But I do not know what has happened here of late, nor in what mind the Rohirrim may now be between the traitor Saruman and the threat of Sauron. They have long been the friends of the people of Gondor, though they are not akin to them. It was in forgotten years long ago that Eorl the Young brought them out of the North, and their kinship is rather with the Bardings of Dale, and with the Beornings of the Wood, among whom may still be seen many men tall and fair, as are the Riders of Rohan. At least they will not love the Orcs.'

'But Gandalf spoke of a rumour that they pay tribute to Mordor ' said Gimli.

'I believe it no more than did Boromir,' answered Aragorn.

'You will soon learn the truth,' said Legolas. 'Already they approach.'

At length even Gimli could hear the distant beat of galloping hoofs. The horsemen, following the trail, had turned from the river, and were drawing near the downs. They were riding like the wind.

Now the cries of clear strong voices came ringing over the fields. Suddenly they swept up with a noise like thunder, and the foremost horseman swerved, passing by the foot of the hill, and leading the host back southward along the western skirts of the downs. After him they rode: a long line of mail-clad men. swift, shining, fell and fair to look upon.

Their horses were of great stature, strong and clean-limbed; their grey coats glistened, their long tails flowed in the wind, their manes were braided on their proud necks. The Men that rode them matched them well: tall and long-limbed; their hair, flaxen-pale, flowed under their light helms, and streamed in long braids behind them; their faces were stern and keen. In their hands were tall spears of ash, painted shields were slung at their backs, long swords were at their belts, their burnished skirts of mail hung down upon their knees.

In pairs they galloped by, and though every now and then one rose in his stirrups and gazed ahead and to either side, they appeared not to perceive the three strangers sitting silently and watching them. The host had almost passed when suddenly Aragorn stood up, and called in a loud voice:

'What news from the North, Riders of Rohan?'

With astonishing speed and skill they checked their steeds, wheeled, and came charging round.

JRR Tolkien, The Lord of the Rings, The Two Towers,  The Riders of Rohan

The picture of Eorl the Young in the Golden Hall of Meduseld (painted on heavy canvas) is taken from the Appendices: The Two Towers - 'Designing Middle Earth'

#the lord of the rings #the two towers #the riders of rohan #jrr tolkien #rohan #aragorn #legolas #gimli #eomer #peter jackson #extended edition #movie pics

[forelevenses]

before you go

rating: T fandom: the lord of the rings characters: frodo baggins, sam gamgee, bilbo baggins, elanor gardener pairings: frodo baggins/sam gamgee summary: before Bilbo is set to depart the Havens, Frodo and Sam have someone they want him to meet

with lovely art done by @verchielmarch! 💕 read here or on ao3! When Master Elrond informed Bilbo of Frodo’s decision to decline the offer to the Blessed Land, he was rather at a loss for words (to the surprise of the entire House).

The letter arrived towards the tail-end of April, and all the while, he spent his afternoons on his favorite thinking bench under one of the many blooming bowers in Rivendell and thought of many different things: his past adventures, his verses, his upcoming journey, but most importantly of all, he thought of Frodo.

At first, he found the situation quite hilarious and wished he could hug his dear nephew. After all, it was quite in Baggins-fashion to be accorded with a special honor by the elves to only say ‘No, I am quite all right, thank you’ as if one was rejecting an extra helping of tea cakes during elevenses. He taught the boy very well, in his humble opinion.

However, as the months turned warmer, Bilbo’s humor began to turn into concern. Although he was not at the Cracks of Doom when it happened, Bilbo felt a sort of clarity when It was destroyed, even all the way in his small, cozy room. It was as if he was finally unburdened from the last of a 60-year-old weight, and he could really feel again. So, he could only imagine how Frodo, who walked into the very heart of the Enemy’s realm with the accursed thing, felt about the whole ordeal.

He may have shut his eyes more times than he would have liked then, but Bilbo remembered when Frodo returned to Rivendell after it was all said and done. His nephew was there, yes, and yet, he wasn’t. He wasn’t the same rosy-cheeked lad he met all those years ago in Brandy Hall, or the one who would hang on to every word of Bilbo’s tales with wonder in his clear eyes. Of course, Frodo talked and smiled well enough before he headed off on the last leg home, but none of it ever reached his shadowed eyes. It was as if Frodo was hollowed from the inside out, a weary and fragile shell of who he once was years ago.

The Blessed Land would have given them both long-overdue relief from their times with their shared burden, so why Frodo turned down the offer was too great a riddle, even for Bilbo. Had he turned for the worse upon arriving home? He may have held the ring for a shorter amount of time between the two, but It weighed on him far worse than Bilbo experienced. Not to mention his wounds- knife, sting, and tooth all crushing down on him with an immense pressure that Bilbo wished he could help alleviate. Did he think himself unworthy?

His boy more than earned his rest, so just why did he turn it down?

The first clue to his answer arrived just a week before he was set to depart for the Grey Havens: a Shire postmarked letter, written in the firm but slightly unsteady hand Bilbo recognized anywhere. Bilbo thanked the heavens Frodo could, at the very least, be well enough to have written a letter and practically tore into the envelope. It was short, the usual and respectful ‘How do you do? I’m doing well, thank you’ found in any hobbit correspondence, however, the letter’s closing caught Bilbo’s curiosity:

‘The three of us eagerly await the day we shall meet you at the Woody End.’

While he was more than happy to hear Frodo would be seeing him off, why only three? It was a shame to think the four lads had a falling out of sorts upon returning, however it seemed unlikely. There was talk among the newly-arrived elves of a gardener breathing life back into the halfling’s lands feared to be too unsalvageable, and Bilbo did not need to spare a guess on who the mystery gardener was. He hoped he would’ve seen young Samwise one last time, but he was a very important hobbit these days if the rumors were to be believed, and perhaps had bigger things to attend to than to see old Mad Baggins sail off into the blue.

At the very least, he would get to see his young cousins one last time and for Bilbo, it was a comforting thought.

***

The final clue arrived on the morning of September 22nd.

Their passage into the Shire was uneventful and unnoticed by the Shire-folk, even by the most keen-eyed Bounder. Their small company took the paths least traveled, through the rolling green hills and even through a forgotten sunflower field. The elves seemed to have enjoyed the field particularly, even Lord Elrond seemed a bit misty-eyed (sunflowers were not his personal favorite, although Bilbo can appreciate how their beauty can bring anyone to tears).

As they passed into the Woody End, one of the elves in their company ordered the scouts to be on the lookout for the Ringbearer’s carriage. Seemed a tad excessive for a small trip, even for Bilbo, but Frodo is a Baggins after all. He thought nothing more of it and quietly slipped into a peaceful nap.

Until he was rudely awoken by one of the escorts.

Perhaps some time passed, judging by the light but the elf laughed, “You have company little Master.” They had stopped at the edge of a small clearing (the same one Frodo and he would use to camp out under the stars during their famous days-long tramps), and elves around him busied themselves with the horses. Two lone horses were in the clearing before a small carriage and he recognized them as Lord Elrond’s and Lady Galadriel’s. Bilbo couldn’t help his quiet huff. He may be old, but certainly not too old to not be the first to greet his nephew!

Before he could show those two stuffy elves a piece of his mind, the horses were making their way back to the company. They were in good spirits to Bilbo’s mind, whispering to each other in the ancient tongue and smiling more than he had ever witnessed them to. Their horses slowed to a stop before his pony, regarding him fondly with their keen eyes. At last, Lord Elrond raised a hand before he could squeeze a word in.

“No need to rush, we shall set camp here for the evening,” he said, and motioned his horse forward. Lady Galadriel was silent, but her bright eyes twinkled in mirth before her own horse followed after Elrond’s.

Bilbo looked out toward the clearing, and though his eyes have seen better days, he recognized the pacing figure of his nephew anywhere.

“Let’s see what’s gotten into the lad’s head,” Bilbo said and he urged his pony forward. As he got closer, he began to make out the voices from the carriage: Frodo’s, and to his surprise, Sam’s. What joy to see young Samwise one more time, after all the great deeds he accomplished since their last meeting! Bilbo’s thoughts returned to the letter and he chuckled. Maybe Frodo was trying to give him the slip, and all four of them have arrived to see him off. Blast it all, he should’ve known all along!

“...he’ll understand, me dear.”

“...cuff my ears, just like old times!”

Just why would he need to cuff his ears? Honestly, the things the lad says sometimes! But, he’d know soon enough. Before Bilbo could get to it, the soft snort of his pony announced his arrival and a hush fell before Frodo turned around from his spot behind the carriage.

Bilbo had some sort of greeting ready at the tip of his tongue, but he felt it slip from his mind. He blinked, stunned as he took in his nephew. It had been nearly a year since he last saw him, a ghost of what his nephew once was. There were days when Bilbo, even Master Elrond, wondered if the Blessed Realm would be enough to heal Frodo.

The Frodo standing before him now was not fully healed, but Bilbo would not have known any better.

Frodo shifted in place, his hands fiddling with the cuffs of his sleeves like he did so long ago whenever Bilbo would scold him as a tween. “Hullo Uncle,” Frodo said, color staining his properly filled-out cheeks (which Bilbo believed he would never see again).

Bilbo found the words he meant to say, but as he gathered his wits enough to answer, a soft gurgle got the first say.

He realized he had forgotten all about Sam in his astonishment.

Bilbo looked behind Frodo, and Sam sat at the edge of the carriage. He looked weary, but was ever the fine hobbit he always was. Sam smiled and mouthed a ‘Hullo’ before turning his attention back to the squirming bundle of blankets in his arms.

He looked at the bundle, then to Sam, then to Frodo, and then back to the bundle.

“Oh, my dear boy,” Bilbo said softly, the pieces falling together perfectly in his mind.

“I suppose we ought to explain ourselves,” Frodo said, still looking rather expectantly as if he was waiting for the other shoe to drop.

“I dare say you do,” Bilbo said, dismounting his pony with ease. “But, I would much rather be introduced to this little one first.”

As quietly as he could as to not disturb the bundle, Bilbo approached Sam and settled by the spot next to him. The bundle was well-covered, although he couldn’t help but notice the little golden curl sprouting out from the blankets. Sam must have thought him silly trying to get a look and laughed softly. “Would you like to hold her, Mr. Bilbo?”

Bilbo smiled. “Her?”

“Aye,” Sam replied, “Here, mind her head.” Bilbo held open his arms and with Sam’s gentle guidance, he held the bundle. When was the last time he held a babe? Bilbo could not recall, but were they always this small? And quite hefty this little lass was! She began to squirm a bit, no doubt from not recognizing this stranger’s arms and Bilbo began to softly rock his arms.

“There, there,” he hushed. “Now, let’s get a look at you.”

He uncovered the blanket near her face, and he stilled. The little lass was fast asleep, her face flushed from the warmth of her blankets but rather at peace with the new set of arms she found herself in. Bilbo was silent, studying every single movement and trying to commit it to his memory. If his mind wandered a bit more, he would have thought he was back in Brandy Hall so many years ago, when a proud Primula plopped a sleeping Frodo into his arms for the first time.

“Uncle, we’d like to introduce you to Elanor Baggins-Gamgee,” Frodo said, taking the empty spot next to Bilbo.

Bilbo sniffed, using his hand to wipe his eye. “The sun-star?”

“Half of all the maid-children in the Shire are named for flowers, but we wanted something different for her,” Frodo said, leaning in closer to Bilbo. “She’s beautiful and she’ll grow to be even more beautiful still.”

“Well, of course she will!” Bilbo laughed. “She’s a Baggins! Why, look at that hair! You know, your Aunt Dora’s hair was so thick that not even a comb could get through!”

“Goodness!” Sam said.

“I remember a time when your father tried to plait ribbons in her hair, Frodo! You should have seen the look on his face when the handle on the brush snapped like a twig! Oh, she was so cross with him, it was her favorite!” Bilbo laughed. “But the color! That is, of course, Samwise’s doing.”

“Nay, my own isn’t so bright, nor any of my relations if I can recall,” Sam said. “A lot of the babes born this past year are golden-haired, even if no one in the family is so!”

“Is that so?” Bilbo asked, brushing a stray curl back Elanor’s ear. “Well, if you will not take credit for the hair, then don’t bother denying the nose! My eyes may not be as sharp as they were when I was a spry tweener, but that’s a Gamgee nose if I ever saw one!”

Sam laughed, his freckled cheeks turning a bright red, “You’ve done and settled the score, Mr. Bilbo! All this time we haven’t been able to tell where she got it from but you say it as if it were plain as day!”

“You don’t think it reminds you of cousin Peony’s a bit, Bilbo?” Frodo asked, tucking the blanket back under Elanor’s uncovered feet.

“Your cousin Peony’s nose was a bit sharper, too sharp if I’m being truthful,” Bilbo said, bringing his finger up to Elanor’s nose to lightly tap the tip, “And with the freckles on top, little Elanor’s definitely a Gamgee, through and through!”

“If me old Gaffer were here, he’d say she turned out way too fine to be a Gamgee, but I know he’s being silly,” Sam chuckled.

“Bah, nonsense! I’ve always said Belle and he made such a beautiful family, but you know him better than I: too humble to accept any compliment! It’s like pulling teeth with him sometimes!”

That set them laughing, full and whole-heartedly until a soft coo mingled in. They stilled, Bilbo freezing in place as if he heard the rumbling snort of an awakening dragon all over again. Frodo and Sam shared a gentle smile between them.

“I believe someone has something to say about all our ruckus,” Frodo said. Bilbo looked down and was caught in the gaze of two, clear blue eyes. Elanor stared at him, her round face calm as if she was still deciding whether Bilbo was a new friend or not. Her small eyebrows were set in the same fashion of Frodo whenever he was in deep debate over which book he would spend the afternoon with, or whenever Sam would concentrate on his rose pruning out in the gardens. Bilbo could not stop the overwhelming joy bubbling within him.

“Hullo there,” Bilbo whispered, offering his finger to Elanor. She considered it for a long while when at long last, her clear eyes shone bright and she took his finger between her strong grip. She laughed happily, showing off the slight gap between her growing front teeth. Bilbo laughed, the tears welling in his eyes flowing freely down his wrinkled cheeks.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you too, Elanorellë,” Bilbo said.

***

By nightfall, the company settled quite comfortably under the stars. The meal was modest, but quite enjoyable after days of travel and before long, the elves were resting peacefully under the soft starlight.

However, the night was still young at least according to hobbit standards.

A ways away from the elves, the hobbits huddled around a cheery fire, their bellies full from the bit of stew Sam threw together and the ale Frodo managed to bring along for the trip. Although the elves in Rivendell tried their best to replicate hobbit fare and Bilbo appreciated the efforts, nothing could quite compare to a proper hobbit meal in the Shire itself.

They talked of many things – Lotho and Sharkey, the rebuilding efforts, this past season’s remarkable harvest, and all the doings of any hobbit in and around Hobbiton Frodo and Sam could think of. No wonder Frodo’s letters were so to-the-point – he would have been sending a book each time otherwise! And even with all their catching up and reminiscing, Elanor stayed right in Bilbo’s arms, making quite the fuss if her new cousin made any effort to settle her down in her basket.

When each of their corners were properly filled and every story that could be told was recounted, the fire was banked and the hobbits clamored into the carriage and settled into their bedrolls, ready for what the next leg of the journey held in store for them.

All except for Bilbo.

Maybe it was a pesky pebble under his bedroll, or the slight chill in the air that kept him turning about, but Bilbo was at his wit’s end. How long he strayed between waking and sleeping, he could not tell but it was no use making so much fuss when everyone else was fast asleep. As quiet as he could, Bilbo reached for his cloak and slipped out from under his roll.

Sam was turned to his side, his soft snores lulling Elanor into a deep sleep. It was a comforting sight to Bilbo at first, until he caught a glimpse of the empty roll next to Sam. Frodo was nowhere in sight, and the flap to the carriage cover was left undone. Worry started to grip him tight and ever so gently as not to wake the other two, Bilbo slipped out of the carriage and onto the clearing.

The stars glimmered against the dark sky but they paled compared to the evening-star, shining steady but brilliantly compared to all others. Bilbo felt his breath catch, mesmerized at its gentle beauty and after a long while of contemplating its light, he let his eyes fall back down to the earth. Right below the star, Frodo sat alone by the empty fire pit.

“It hasn't fully healed, if that’s what you’re getting at,” Frodo sighed. “There are days where I feel somewhat at peace, but there are others where it feels as if the sickness has me completely in its hold. Sam helps the best he can in those times, Rosie as well, but I'm afraid they can only do so much.”

Biblo tried to picture it: Frodo, in the throes his sickness while Sam and the Cotton lass helplessly tried to do anything to ease him. No, he shouldn’t use ‘helpless’. He was confident they both did everything within their hobbit-sense to help Frodo, that much was clear. But even so, a nagging whisper in the corner of his mind would not relent.

“Do you believe this to be the best choice, Frodo?” Bilbo asked, unsure of the question himself. Frodo was silent, his brow creased as he considered his words.

“It was always a chance to be healed,” Frodo said, returning Bilbo's firm grip, “Never a guarantee. But even so, there was a time when I was prepared to take the offer. I couldn’t bear the thought of burdening Sam, even after everything we have endured, but then one day, I found him crying in the potting shed all by himself. I brought him back inside and after a long talk, I found that it was not the first time Sam had hid away in such a manner. The thought of him suffering alone pained me and when I asked why, wouldn’t you believe it- he didn’t want to be a burden to me! All that time, we had suffered in silence without the other knowing, when we could have suffered together! And I was about to leave these lands so we could continue suffering alone?” Frodo scoffed, shaking his head in disbelief.

“Bilbo, I understand the risk in my decision, and how it worries you so. However, this is a risk I am prepared to make. For myself, for Sam and for Elanor.”

“I have never doubted your decisions, my lad, nor do I plan to start,” Bilbo said, bringing up one of his wrinkled hands to Frodo’s pale cheek, “I know you’re doing what you think is best, like how you’ve always done. My only wish is that you find your rest at last. You, out of anyone in this world, have earned as such.” Frodo smiled and wrapped his slender arms around Bilbo.

“It will not be an easy road, but Uncle, I truly believe I will find my rest here in the Shire. There’s so much to be and to do, and being able to try and experience it all with Sam and Elanor by my side is worth more to me than any Elvish healing can bring,” Frodo said.

Bilbo was silent, the dust in the wind clouding his vision of course, and without any further word, he returned Frodo’s embrace. All was quiet among the wood, but perhaps the sharpest of elf ears in Elrond’s company caught the faintest of sniffling in the breeze.

***

“We shall be arriving within the hour, Little Master.”

Bilbo yawned and faced the kindly Elf at the doorway. After the ship casted off from the Grey Havens, he found it rather difficult to keep track of their days out on the Sea. What felt like weeks to him were just mere days to the Elves and decided it was best to leave it be.

“I shall rather believe it when I set foot on the docks,” Bilbo chuckled. The Elf laughed brightly and dismissed himself, leaving Bilbo alone in his small room. He stretched and stood from his seat by the desk, still marveled at the ease his old bones moved. Master Elrond credited their proximity to the Blessed Land, and wondered what other changes awaited him once they docked.

It was quite the change, he supposed. Becoming the first mortal, much less hobbit, to even breathe the sweet air of the Blessed Land was quite the ordeal. While the promise of a new adventure awaited him, Bilbo could not help but wonder how long would it be until he could truly call the Land his home?

His eyes (ah, no more need to squint) fell to his bags by the foot of his bed, and lingered on Frodo’s gift. It was large, wrapped in a soft cloth and was rather light. Bilbo recalled the cries of the gulls as they stood on the docks, sharing one last hug with his dear nephew. When they pulled apart, Sam handed Frodo the gift, wiping his tears with newly free hand. Elanor cooed curiously as she looked on, not quite understanding what was before her (though he knew with time, her fathers would explain).

“When you reach the other side of the Sea,” Frodo sniffed, handing the gift to Bilbo, “We hope this small piece will help you remember The Shire.”

He supposed he could wait until they reached Elrond’s estate on the Isle, but the anticipation was too much for an old hobbit. A small peak wouldn’t hurt. With the utmost care, Bilbo picked up the gift and placed it onto his bed. The thread keeping the cloth together was simple and gave him no trouble undoing it. Slowly, he uncovered the folds and felt the breath leave him.

A painting laid before him, and if Elf magic were real, it might as well have been a passage back to The Shire. Bag End was captured in all the quaint beauty he remembered it but, his eyes were focused on the stoop. Frodo and Sam stood side-by-side, smiling softly with Elanor held between the both of them.

They will age- both lads growing more lines and gray hairs as the years went by while Elanor would only grow more in beauty. Perhaps more bairns would be added to their growing brood (imagine, Frodo with a brood of his own!), but for now, they remained frozen the way he left them at the Grey Havens.

Bilbo smiled, feeling tears pool in his eyes, “I doubt I’ll forget The Shire anytime soon, my dear boy.”

#samfrodo #frodo x sam #lotr #lotr fic #fotfics #frodo baggins #sam gamgee #samwise gamgee #miki.fic

[chiropteracupola]

please might i hear about ladyhawke or seaside for your health?? or polycule surgery if you have any of it i haven’t seen yet??

here is his lordship. also

and here is a hobbit in return! all of which is extremely apt since the ladyhawke au happens to be The Story Wherein I Turn Keith Windham Into A Cat.

it has been a while and a while since I have actually spoken of it, so I shall re-explain - it's a Flight of the Heron AU based on the film Ladyhawke*, where a pair of lovers are cursed so that one is a hawk during the day and the other a wolf during the night, inseparable but forever apart. and I thought that the combination of Vague Magics and Fabulous Synth-Laden Tunes and Significant Birds would suit Ewen and Keith admirably! but rather than red-tailed hawk and wolf, I've gone for some more Scotland-appropriate creatures with golden eagle and wildcat! even so, it's not going very well for them...

Guthrie waits, the corners of his mouth turned up ever so faintly, and watches him. “Ah, Major, I still don’t know what’s between you and yon Jacobite…” Keith’s title falls from his mouth like an insult, and it stings all the more for knowing that in a matter of hours, that too may very well be stripped from him. “But I see there’s something, all the same! And to think you put so upright of a face on it, when all the time you’ve been double-dealing with that pretty Highlander of yours.” “I have done no such thing!” snarls Keith, shoving forward against his restraints. Ewen, though he is hooded and has his talons tied fast to the back of a chair, ruffles up his wings in agitation. Guthrie starts back, his hand clenched tight on the hilt of his knife. And then the sun slinks below the horizon at last, and Keith’s muffled cursing is cut off as his body twists itself into a new form. He drops to the ground, half suffocated in the seemingly increased weight of his own clothing, and remains, waiting for the aching, arching movement to subside. Above him, distant in the warm darkness that has settled around him, he hears faint laughter. Guthrie’s hard hand reaches through the opening of Keith’s coat, and with a quick twist of his wrist, gets a handhold in the looser fur at the back of his neck. Keith, still worn down from the stress of the shift, hangs limply, too exhausted to do more than hiss and put out his claws. “Scratch at me all you want, Windham, there’s but little that you can do to me now.” His smirk is fully developed now, teeth shining in the candlelight.

and polycule surgery! I do not recall if we have actually Talked About It Out In The Open before, altho' I have ...posted some Images.

here we ask the question of 'what happens when the guy who's gotten shot in the duel is a) the doctor and b) the very specific kind of confident-crazy that causes self-surgery to seem like a good idea', which I know perfectly well is a question that's already been asked and answered far better by Patrick O'Brian. shhhhh I'll borrow a plot point if I want. it's Artistic. anyway, to quote a random youtube commenter on the m&c scene in question, it takes 'a certain amount of skill and intestinal fortitude' to do such things, but you best believe they are going to do it!

now, because this one's consequently rather gory, I'll put it under a readmore...

Watching a man die under his hands had been a familiar sight for a long time. But watching a man twisting the knife in his own side, delving inch by inch into his own gut to find the bullet lodged deep within? That was both new and nauseating, and even as it disgusted him to see it done, Jeremiah could not look away. A sharp sound glanced over Ansel’s teeth like breaking glass — there, his fingernail must have scraped against the chunk of lead still buried in him. The room was so quiet that Jeremiah could hear his own breath, could hear the wet popping sound of the digit being withdrawn from the wound. His finger was bloody past the second knuckle, his hand shaking as he twisted it free. But he smiled, open-mouthed and gasping for breath, and looked up at them expectantly. He was proud of himself, the bastard. Of course he was proud of himself. He ought to be proud, said some miserable voice at the back of Jeremiah’s mind. You couldn’t do that. But even as the thought crossed his mind, he felt Ansel’s grip tighten until his hand felt as if it was caught in a vise, the fingernails digging in just below his own knuckles. Though he was putting on the bravest face he could, their doctor surely could not have done such a thing alone. “Not too deep,” said he, giving a little nod as if directing something trivial indeed. Ansel dashed his hand against the edge of the table, sending a spatter of scarlet into the air. “If you please… the forceps…” Mannerly as always, though his smile had quickly become a strained sneer under the burden of the bullet.

#em writes stuff #hobbit the cat #heronposting #flintlock fortress #jon my friend you have read pretty much all of seaside that there is ...but wait a week or two and I May finish it. #*fun fact I learned while checking something on this post: what if we lived in the universe where the original casting went through #and KURT RUSSELL played navarre.... wild times wild times.

[i-did-not-mean-to]

Diary found in K---D--- : Part 2

So, here's the next little part of this :D

Imagine by @lathalea is indented!

Enjoy <3

Taglist: @shrimpsthings, @mulasawala (so you see where I'm going with this lol)

(Yes, there will be MORE artwork coming, stay posted...)

Fandom: Hobbit

Characters: Ori x OC

Rating & Warning: Fluff and silliness

His name was Ori and he was a scribe in Erebor. It turned out he visited the forest often to sketch the animals and plants. You spent the rest of the day together. In the evening, you exchanged campfire stories, sharing a meal. At one point, he shyly asked about where you came from. Blushing, he admitted, almost whispering, he never saw a person with such beautiful hair before.

You told him that you came from another world, from a region called East Asia, where many people looked similarly to you. He was very curious about your homeland, your culture and your world. You spent hours telling him everything about it and he listened to you in awe.

“Ori.” He replied, his lips quirking a tiny bit as if he was not used to speaking his own name. “I’m a scribe. In Erebor. The Mountain.” He pointed to a tree beyond the clearing.

Thankfully, I was familiar with the Lonely Mountain and did not think that he didn’t know the difference between a living organism and a pile of minerals.

“I have never seen you, neither here nor in that Mountain.” I replied, for I went into the halls sometimes to translate for travellers, but for the most part, I let the king be his grumpy, glorious self.

“I come here often, to sketch, but I seem to have lost my way.” He admitted with a tiny frown. Ah, a real dwarf. They only knew up and down seemingly and if there was no way into a hill, they’d stubbornly trek up until they tumbled off the other side again.

As if to prove to me that he was not lying – dear reader, he had a face that was utterly devoid of malice or dissimulation – he showed me rather good sketches of the fauna and flora of the dense forest surrounding us. “That is really good, Ori, the scribe, from under the Mountain.” I commented which made him blush with a fierce and, apparently, unexpected pleasure.

In an expression of indescribable cuteness, he literally wiped his face with his sleeve as if he could clean away the rosy hue like a stubborn ink stain from under his skin.

“What are you here for?” He then asked, pushing out his chest heroically. As a reminder, he was the one who had lost his way, but apparently, he wanted to defend either the forest from me or the other way around.

“I am here to think…in silence.” I replied; he retreated a few steps. “Oh? I’ll leave you to it then, I guess. It was great to make your acquaintance…”

I gave him my name, after all, he had given me his, and he chewed on it for a few moments before his face split into a smile that was like the sunlight breaking through the cloudy afternoon sky: tentative, warm, and strikingly beautiful.

“Stay. I like your face.” I heard myself saying. Maybe, it was my teasing, mischievous streak acting up, but I had liked his embarrassment so much that I couldn’t help wanting to coax more of these blushes out of him.

“My…face?” In that weird dance he had been engaged in for the last few minutes, Ori stepped closer again, shuffling his feet in the heavy boots dwarrows insisted on wearing.

No, your ass, I thought, but bit my tongue; Ori the dwarf looked like someone who would die on the spot if I said anything even remotely inappropriate…as I was wont to do when nervous.

My sarcastic thought spurred my own interest though and I examined him a little closer: he was indeed swaddled like a babe, beads of sweat pearling down his temples on account of the steep climb and the stubborn blush powdering his nose and cheeks with pink blotches.

“Sit down, you’ll get a heat stroke.” I invited him and pointed to a patch of moss beside me while rummaging in my pack for the flask of ale I had brought.

“Thank you ever so much.” He plopped down in a cascade of earthen-coloured wool and awkward limbs. He did smell warm, I noticed, a blend of cinnamon and comfort.

Also, he had one of those faces that only became better when seen up-close, I admit freely; there were golden stars dancing in the depth of his dark eyes and he had the most adorable freckles as if some outlandish fairy had sprinkled gold dust over that heart-wrenchingly handsome face.

“Are you thirsty, Mistress?” He asked, nodding at the flask in my hand.

Handing it to him rather abruptly, I realised that I had spent the last moments intently staring at his face as if I had never seen a male dwarf before in my life.

“I have work to do.” I snapped, feeling immediately guilty for taking my own embarrassment out on him, but he merely nodded and pulled his sketching supplies into his lap.

Strangely enough, Ori did not disturb me. If anything, the silence felt fuller, richer, deeper with him by my side. As I translated a letter, as a spinster I had to support my family and my insufferable sisters as best as I could, I felt like the chirping of the birds and the vibrancy of the colours around me were even more enjoyable now that I shared them with someone else.

…

The sun crept along its never-changing arc slowly and yet, much too fast.

As I looked up, I wished I was a better painter myself, for this dwarrow was made for sunsets.

The way the last golden hurrah of a perfect day exploded in a halo of warmth around his figure, the way all the greys and the blues seemed to bleed out of the world to leave nothing but warm tones behind, and the way his smile was the perfect expression of this mellow, unhurried mood…it struck me deeper and more violently than a thunderstorm in all its booming rage would have.

“Will you join me for dinner, Ori?” I asked gently, “I shall escort you back down.”

“It would be my honour.” He nodded, tearing out a page of his notebook and handing it over.

“It was an invitation; I do not demand payment.” I said seriously, for the sketch of the doe was so good, it might have been worth actual money. “Oh…” His nose crinkled at little at that.

“I wanted you to…have something beautiful. I have seen you work very hard.”

Of course, he was a scribe as well, he would consider the scribbling work, I thought and gave him a thankful smile. “You’re beauty enough for one day.” I shrugged.

He gasped, bringing his notebook up to his face as if to shield himself from my words.

“You’re having me on, aren’t you? Dori has warned me that girls do that sometimes.” He sounded utterly dejected. “I am not having you on. Has nobody ever told you that you’re handsome?” It was my turn to be wide-eyed with shock.

“And who is Dori?” I followed-up when he didn’t really reply to my question even though I thought I had seen his braids move like strings of pearls in a draft. The minutest of shakes of the head, a quiet admission of inadequacy that sunk ugly, ragged claws into my soft heart.

“He’s my brother. I have two of them. Dori…and Nori. They’re…” – “Older than you.” I completed. “Protective.” He supplied.

He was still holding his drawing out to me, and, after a moment, I took it gingerly and put it between the pages of my own writing supplies. I would hang it in my room and look at it daily.

Nowadays, there were but very few gifts for me; all the money went to my two younger sisters who were still nubile and would, if Mahal willed it so, be able to make a good match.

Busying my hands with making a fire, I asked him to tell me about his brothers.

“Oh, Nori is…agile. He’s…funny and brave and resourceful.” Ori started, his voice warm with affection and admiration. He sounded like a proper rogue to me, and as it turned out, he was, but he also deserved every single ounce of the deep-felt care Ori held for him.

“Dori is…fussy. He’s polite, he’s very caring, and he’s exceedingly proper.” Ori went on as I waved a hand for him not to stop. I enjoyed hearing about the life of other families than my own.

“So, is he the one who raised you to be this…warmly clad and gentle?” I asked, turning to place the foodstuffs I had brought up and stored in the cool lake water on spits to roast over the fire.

“Warm? Oh yes…I was a sickly pebble and he’s been worried ever since. I hope I have behaved in a way that would not make him disappointed in me.” Again, he worried his lip.

“Let’s see, you’ve startled a bird and an unsuspecting dwarrowdam.” I listed with a wicked gleam in my eyes; his face fell, and he looked properly guilty.

“Then, you’ve kept me company, and the best company I’ve ever had, it has been, on my grandmother’s grave, I swear.” I went on and that treacherous blush was back with a vengeance.

“I didn’t mean to startle you.” He then said in a low voice. “Great beauty is always startling.”

“I am hardly Thorin Oakenshield.” He laughed. Readers, you cannot imagine that sound just by reading my words. If flowers blossoming had melody, if the sun setting on the eternal sea had a song, if autumn leaves dancing on a gale had a tune, they would have sounded like nails on scree, like cats having their tails trampled, and like kettles going unheeded compared to Ori’s laughter.

“There’s beauty in the doe as much as in the wolf.” I replied gently.

“May I…can I ask where you’re from? I don’t seek to be rude, but I’ve never seen anyone quite like you; your hair looks like those fabrics the Elves weave. It…seems so soft, so liquid, so smooth.” He blushed a darker shade yet.

This might well have been the first time that someone had asked me about my origins without making it sound like an accusation; there was honest fascination in his demeanour.

“My family and I have come from the Far East. I have travelled a lot, Ori, I have seen landscapes entirely made up of rock and sand, I have walked forests so stiflingly hot and moist it felt like being underwater, and now, I am here in the land of tall trees and taller mountains.”

I said, surprised by my own frankness.

“That sounds amazing.” He took the food I offered readily enough, and I told him about the people I’ve left behind to be stranded at the other end of the world.

“This is good, is that a recipe of your homeland?” He asked, looking down on the piece of meat I had seasoned with herbs I had grown myself in our small backyard.

“It actually is. I’m glad you like it. I had not planned to have company, otherwise I’d have brought something more palatable to the local tongue.” I apologised quickly.

“No, I like it. You should definitely trade some recipes with Dori…and Bombur…oh, and if any of your delicious herbs are medicinal, Óin.” He laughed again when he saw my dumbfounded expression.

“I make a good honeycake, if I can interest you in that? Maybe…” He fell back into silence.

…

A look at the sky told me that it was too late to go down in the inky darkness.

“We’ll have to stay here for the night.” I mumbled, slightly uncomfortable at the idea of spending the night with a dwarrow who had not lost a single word about a wife.

“Are you married, Mistress? Will that endanger your wedlock?” He asked shyly.

“No, I am not and I have no name to lose…It’s a long story.” I didn’t feel like blurting out my disgrace, lest it give him strange ideas after all, especially as he would easily have been able to overpower me if he so chose.

“Neither am I. I don’t know about my name…Doesn’t look like I’m going to be married either. There’s not enough dwarrowdams as it is, and I think the royal line has a prerogative there.” There was no resentment in his tone; he seemed to accept this as a fact.

How could someone that sweet not be married, I wondered. He was courteous, he was cute, and he would have made the fortune and happiness of someone.

“Well, in that case, I think we can risk our reputation rather than our necks.” I grinned, rolling out a blanket I kept tied to my pack for emergencies and stretched out next to the fire on the moss.

“Erm, yes…Good night…” He mumbled, fidgeting around with his different layers of clothing. Apparently, he was deciding which one he needed least on his body to use it as a bedroll or blanket.

I eyed the proceedings with interest and a good deal of amusement.

“I can offer you my cloak to lie upon…the ground will grow very cold and wet soon.” He said in a low voice, not sure if I had already fallen asleep or not.

“Alright, I can offer you a spot under the blanket then?” I extended my own graciousness.

“With you?” No, with the red bird, I thought, rolling my eyes internally.

“Yes, Ori the scribe, with me. I will not eat you, as you have witnessed, I have had dinner.” Not that he did not look good enough to devour, standing there with his cloak in his hands and his face all crunched up in embarrassment.

“Hmmm…I guess.” He muttered doubtfully, spreading out the cloak and sitting down on it carefully. Impatiently, I scooted over and spread my lousy blanket over the both of us with a flourish.

“Sleep!” I commanded as I turned around only to find him staring wide-eyed at the spot where the back of my head had been only a second ago. Now that he was presented with my face, only inches away from his, his eyes grew even rounder and bigger in wordless distress.

“Friend…Have you never lain with a woman? And I literally mean, lying next to one?” I laughed for there had been friends and cousins aplenty in my own life and the feeling of having another body so close to mine was not a new experience for me.

“Well, I fell down on the battlefield once, next to a foe…I’m pretty sure that was a Lady-Orc. She was dead. There was a…” He gestured, indicating a spear or a lance sticking out of his chest and brushing against my own with the back of his hand. Dear reader, he flinched back as if I was a tiny Durin’s bane wreathed in flames.

“A Lady-Orc, indeed…” I mused; no doubt, he could hear the smile I hid in my voice for his face crunched up in embarrassment.

“I am sorry.” He sighed, rolling his eyes, and thinking – there was not a shadow of a doubt about that much – of his brothers who would have mocked him mercilessly for his stammering.

“There’s no need to be sorry” I tried to reassure him, but I admit now that there were things that I did not tell him right away then. We had only just met, and he was blessedly unaware of my shameful past.

How could I have made him understand – without hurting his feelings – how much I enjoyed that air of purity about him that I had squandered myself on an undeserving fiend? As a daughter amongst others, I had been used to dwarrows coming to court or to seduce, their eyes ablaze with greed and their hands wandering.

He would not have comprehended how much the absence of that voracious hunger that had plagued my youth and had ended up destroying my promising future meant to me.

“Sleep.” I repeated, unable to put into words how miraculous and precious the things he seemed to be most ashamed of were to me.

“Good night, Mistress.” He breathed with a soft smile that was nowhere near the wolfish baring of fangs I was used to and so, it was easy to return it.

You who may or may not have stumbled upon this ludicrous account of the most important story in an otherwise unimportant life, you shall hear another confession I did not make at the time.

I was fiercely aware that – had I but leant forward a little – I might have pressed my lips upon his; I was young still at that time and, despite what had happened, parts of me, that should have withered and died in the aftermath of my botched engagement, were much alive.

He smelled like our dinner and warmth, and the gentle reticence of the curve of his smile was more inviting than any flashing grin I had ever seen before.

Yes, in that very moment, on this very first evening, I had already been conscious of the shrewd attraction this self-effacing dwarrow held for me…and it scared me half to death.

…

Part 3

#Fanfiction #ao3 fanfic #ori the dwarf #Ori #OC #Fluff #Diary #1st person

[oddsnendsfanfics]

The (Mis)Adventures of Kal and Moose - New Year, New Tricks

Genre: Fan Fiction

Pairing: Henry Cavill/Reader

Warnings: Fluffy NYE In

Rating: G

Length: Drabble

Disclaimer: a strict work of fiction, I own nothing except the original characters and the plot line. In no way am I affiliated to any of it.  

A/N: Happy 2021! Shall we start this year off with some Kal and Moose? 

Henry Cavill Master List

“Henry,” You call glancing around his kitchen, “where did you put the mushrooms and broccoli?”

“I left it on the table, beside the noodles.” Calling back, he flipped through the television channels trying to find something to watch.

“Are you sure?” Picking up containers of open Chinese food, your brow furrows. Beside the noddles is a container of wontons,  stir fry, and egg rolls. No mushrooms and broccoli. “I don't see it,” You pout when he walks into the kitchen to prove you wrong.

“It's right...” Henry paused about to point at the take away container. “I swear, I left it right there.”

Beside you, nails click on the floor, Moose is dancing excitedly eyeing the table of food. His blue eyes sparkling with that all too familiar doggy pride.

“Moose,” You glance down at the dog, stretching he wags his tail and boofs. “You know that is my favourite,” You chide the dog, shaking your head in jest at your furry companion.

Under the table, the tell tale sounds of Kal snacking reach Henry's ears. Rolling his eyes, he sighs. He should have known better than to leave that much food unattended. These two dogs were worse than putting small children together.

“I don't think this was Moose's doing.” Leaning over to look under the table at Kal. With the evidence on his face and paws, the black and white Akita rests with the container under his nose. Licking out the remainder, he looks up at his human. “Kal!”

“Oh Bear,” You groan, trying to hide a laugh at the big dog.

Quite satisfied with his meal and himself, Kal shuffles around slowly crawling out from his hiding spot. Pausing a  moment to lick Moose's face, he burps and continues on to the living room with his friend in tow. The two were somehow always on a roll, especially when together. Grumbling about how Kal has had no manner as of late, Henry sits his plate beside yours.

“Here,” Henry began to put his portion on your plate, “have mine.”

“You don't have to share.” You laugh at the situation, leave it to your dogs to eat three quarters of a large vegetable dish. “It's fine, really.”

“I don't mind.” Henry shrugs. “I ordered it for you, I'd be kind of a dick if I didn't let you have any.”

“I'm not arguing this, am I?”

“You can try, but it will be useless. Consider that your warning.” Chuckling, Henry fills the empty spot on his plate with more noodles.

“Thanks,” You accept the offer, grabbing the bottle of beer that you'd sat down earlier and followed Henry to the living room.

“You Mister,” Henry tutted at Kal, “need to learn some manners. Since when have I ever allowed stealing from the table?”

“It was probably done with Moose's encouragement.” You laugh rolling your eyes when Moose attempted to join you on the couch, when he heard his name. “Down, please.” You gesture to the floor. Like a good boy, Moose sinks to his haunches on the floor, intently watching your fork.

“I didn't know what else to watch, is this okay?” Henry gestures to the screen. You were more than happy to watch The Hobbit, it was a solid go to, when you were unsure of what else to watch.

On the floor at your feet, Kal and Moose laid with hopes of dropped food or plates being sat down, unattended and ripe for their taking. An end of an egg roll was passed down, Moose being the lucky recipient, while Kal looked betrayed by his own human. How dare Henry give the other dog the tidbit. Moose may be his best friend, but it didn't mean Kal had to like or agree to sharing Chinese take away with him.

Crunching on the crispy treat, Moose smacked his lips in a loud fashion. Making Kal watch the act for a long as possible. Slouching and whimpering, Kal laid his head on your thigh glancing at your nearly empty plate. Conveniently forgetting about his mushroom and broccoli dish.

“Here ya go, bear.” You smile and slide him a fried wonton. Happily crunching his own treat, Kal licked his lips and whimpered again. You swear you could see him pouting, when you told him it was all gone.

Engrossed in the movie, Henry sat with his feet kicked up on the small coffee table – his mother would smack him if she saw that – enjoying the quiet New Year's Eve in. When he'd called you on Boxing Day asking if you wanted to spend New Year's Eve together, you happily agreed. Even if it was a quiet night in of four, including the two dogs.  There was no pressure. Showing up in your favourite comfy wear was expected and welcomed, as Henry had also been in his. No crowds, but still enough food and beer to feed a small one.

“Nearly midnight.” Henry checked his watch, looking over at you.

“So it is.” You nod and smile. Stifling a yawn, “If I make it.”  

“I could make some coffee.” Henry shifted around. Preparing to stand if you said Yes.

“No, it's fine. If I doze, wake me?”

“If I am still awake, sure.” He laughed softly. Kal standing and stretching, coming to his human for a pat. “We should probably let these guys out, just in case we do fall asleep.”

“Good idea.” You pause the movie, stretching slowly and standing. Calling to Moose, you follow Henry to the back door. Allowing the dogs to bound out into the small garden for a break. “Once we hit midnight, are you going to walk me home? I need that dark haired man to cross the threshold first,” You chuckle at the superstition.

“It only works if it's well after midnight.” Henry furrowed his brow, snickering. “I'd have to do it in the morning, or there is no luck.”

“So, you're going to let me walk home alone?” You tease, knowing that Henry would never.

“No, I was thinking that you and Moose could stay here. Why rush home? Hot date waiting?” He teased, calling the dogs back in.

“No,” You shake your head, feeling like a teenager defending a teasing over a non-existent crush. Grabbing another beer, you follow the dogs into the living room. Flopping down on the couch, you scoot over for Henry to sit.

“Ah,” Henry continued to tease. “Then we are in for the night? Unless you suggest we run out into the street, at midnight, finding the first person we can and planting a big one on them. You know, since you believe in superstitions.”

“I don't understand the whole kiss thing.” Rolling your eyes, you snuggle down onto the couch beside Henry.

“Are you saying that you don't like PDA?” His laugh is deep.

“I'm saying that I don't understand why people kiss strangers at midnight.” You stretch your leg, scratching Moose with your foot. “You're usually my midnight kiss, aren't ya.”

“Kal is mine.” Henry's laugh booms.

“I've had Kal kisses, they're pretty hard to beat.” Giggles taking over. More than once Kal has attacked your face in a frenzy of slobbery dog kisses.

Because you've never kissed me.

Henry wanted to kick himself, never had he thought about saying such a thing to you. Oh god. You would slap him silly and never come back, if you heard that thought. What kind of person said that to their best friend Clearing his throat, Henry shifted in his spot on the couch, “He does have some charming moves.”

“Like someone else I know,” You lean forward, Henry scooting a little closer. Perhaps this wasn't an entire bust. His heart skipped with anticipation. “Moose, Kal.” You call beckoning the dogs onto the couch. “Yes, you two are such charming gentlemen.” cooing over the dogs, who have invaded the couch you laugh when Moose decides to snuggle in and begin licking Henry's face.

“Moose,” Henry groaned pretending to push the dog away, his laughter giving him away. “C'mon mate.” He gently wrestled the dog from his sneak attack.

“Moose, down.” You giggle, ruffling the fur around Kal's neck. “You can't kiss him yet, it's not even midnight.”

Quirking his brow, Henry sighed as Moose finally gave in. Snuggling up to Henry's side instead. “I thought you didn't believe in midnight kisses.”

“I don't believe in kissing strangers, but Moose isn't a stranger.” You shrug, biting you lip to hide the smirk. “And technically, neither are you and I.”

#henry cavill #henry cavill x reader #henry cavill fanfiction #henry cavill fluff

[gossip-girl-of-middleearth]

A Leap of Faith (Fellowship x Reader)

This is the result of binging macha tea, Lilo and Stitch and Brooklyn 99 simultaneously. Another crackpost. Enjoy.

Pairings: Legolas x Reader—if you squint, and consider pulling on his pigtails as “romantic”, which I, personally, do. Some nice paternal! Aragorn x Reader energy going on in there too, for your comfort. 

“Cartography” is the study of maps, btw. 

Peering eyes and stolen glances, both riddled with skepticism and doubt—that was all to be found among Aragorn and Gandalf.

They each sat on a log, and warily observed the Fellowship as a whole. Both were situated within the dimmed forest by the glowing and flickering campfire.

Each of the eight fanatic Fellowship members before their eyes all naively gallivanted about in their usual bickering antics—nothing short of tomfoolery.

Merry and Pippin snickered loudly, as they each used their smoking pipe's spouts to press in a snoring Gimli's nostrils. He abruptly woke with a snort, and a Dwarvish shout of anger. 

As Merry and Pippin each ran away with boyish giggles—a stumbling and yelling Gimli hot on their tails—Sam and Frodo were sat against the thick trunk of a tree.

The raven-haired Hobbit wistfully sighed, and spoke of the Shire, whilst Sam adamantly comforted the sentimental Ring-bearer. 

Y/n and Legolas stood by the crackling fire, bickering, as usual. 

The girl held out a dirty worm towards the recoiling prince, who shouted at her to stay back. Thoughts of germs and his hygiene were on the forefront of his alarmed mind. 

As Y/n grinned and continued handing the wriggling, pink worm out towards a disgusted Legolas, Boromir bemusedly watched on.

"It's just a mere worm!" Y/n chuckled, eyes alight, and brows raised. 

"Stop touching me! Stay back!" Legolas squealed.

He promptly brought his closed fists in close to his chest, as he trained his wild eyes on the wriggling worm. 

"I'm not touching you!" Y/n childishly countered, moving the worm closer and closer towards the prince's chest. 

Fanatically gesturing both hands out at Y/n, Legolas pleadingly turned to a staring Boromir, and shouted in alarm.

"She's touching me! She's TOUCHING me!" 

"I'm not touching you!" Y/n laughed, waggling the worm back and forth. 

"AH! TOUCHING ME!" Legolas yelped in alarm, pointing one finger, held above the worm, down in gesture. 

"NOT touching!" Y/n corrected in a taunting tone.

"TOUCHING ME!" Legolas adamantly replied.

"It's free air!" Y/n countered, throwing the wriggling worm at a gasping Legolas' chest. 

The prince frantically swiped at his tunic with both hands, before he snapped his enraged eyes back to Y/n. He then took to chasing after her with a large stick—promptly leaving behind a guffawing Boromir.

Aragorn and Gandalf both winced their eyes, and curled their lips in disdain. 

These were the comrades they were tasked with to the save the world? They might've quit and let Sauron win right then and there, just to save the headaches alone. 

"It is as apparent as the hidden conditioner within Legolas' satchel," Gandalf began to muse, capturing Aragorn's idle attention, "that not all among us, though I'd much prefer to believe otherwise, can be trusted on this journey."

With a prolonged sigh past his nose, Aragorn lowered the spout of his wooden smoking pipe from his mouth, and responded. As he did so, he continuously dragged his wearied eyes along each and every member of the Fellowship—each one now a suspect. 

"You are worried one of them will try to take the Ring," Aragorn lulled, his voice more knowing than curious. 

"Worried? Indeed," Gandalf drew out, paying particular attention to Boromir. "I cannot dismiss the warning in my heart, or that of Elrond's."

As Aragorn slowly ran his calculating eyes along the Fellowship, paying particular attention to his apprentice, Y/n (of whom still cackled loudly with a fleeing Merry and Pippin—both an angry Elf and Dwarf hot on their tails, as they ran rings around the fire) he took a moment to respond.

"What would you have me do?"

Inhaling in a wearied manner, Gandalf lowly spoke. He threw a heedful glance down at the ranger sat beside him, who in turn met his urging stare.

"We are to conduct an investigation," Gandalf began to declare. “In my stead, you shall thoroughly examine each and every member."

"Every member?" Aragorn repeated, raising his brows, before his conflicted gaze ran on over towards Y/n.

Catching the ranger's torn visage and trusting eyes, as he studied his younger cartography apprentice, Gandalf flickered his own attention on over towards Y/n.

She was now barricading herself behind a log with Merry and Pippin, laughing, as she and the two Hobbits threw worm after worm at a shouting Legolas and Gimli. 

"Well..." Gandalf lulled in amusement, "perhaps not all are to be investigated."

"Perhaps not all, indeed," Aragorn gently smiled, huffing in amusement, as he studied the girl's questionable antics. 

Slowly studying Pippin next, who bore similar qualities to the chuckling girl sat beside him, Aragorn quirked a brow up in Gandalf's direction, and spoke in a slightly bemused tone. 

"If we are following that logic, then Pippin, too, should be exempt from the investigation."

"No, absolutely not. I want him thoroughly investigated. In fact, examine him first."

~

A few grueling weeks had passed the Fellowship by, and a few more taxing days afterwards had since also passed. This was all following the harrowing ordeal within the Mines of Moria, of course.

Gandalf was now gone, which left a wearied Aragorn alone to conduct the investigation. 

As the Fellowship trekked in a silent line through the thick, mossy forest, Aragorn spotted a small clearing up ahead.

The meadow in question allowed sunlight to finally stream down in open rays—a much needed privilege for the wearied Fellowship.

It was also the perfect location to thoroughly examine each and every member of the Fellowship. 

After Aragorn had pushed the Fellowship a little further, so that they all emerged into the grassy, wild flower-strewn clearing, he had called for them all to stop and take a rest.

In response, Boromir and Gimli seized the chance to light a small fire, and prepare a stew.

As the Hobbits all collapsed onto the ground in a sighing heap—relieved to grant their shorter legs a break—Y/n, too, made a move to join them on the floor.

"Not you, Y/n," Aragorn gently instructed, inspecting his sword within the glinting sunlight. 

Sharing a glance with the Hobbits, Y/n knitted her brows. She nonetheless obediently rose once more, and walker across the grass to meet with the ranger—her teacher. 

"You're in trouble..." Legolas teasingly sung out.

"I know where you sleep at night," Y/n, in turn, sung back, mimicking his melodic tune.

As she strutted by the Elf, whose face contorted in fear, she steadily made her way on over towards Aragorn.

"What is it?" Y/n questioned him. She now stood a few yards away from the rest of the curious Fellowship.

Sheathing his sword, Aragorn placed a hand in the small of Y/n's back. She was the only person there he trusted above all else, as he and her had stood the test of time together—the ranger having been training the young cartographer since she were merely ten. 

With their backs now turned to the indiscreetly glancing Fellowship behind, Aragorn quietly spoke to Y/n. 

"It has come to my attention that someone within our company is not to be trusted with the Ring," he warily began, paying a skeptical glance backwards at the seven curious members. “They could be leaking information to Sauron. The entire Fellowship is under investigation."

Knitting her brows, Y/n lightly recoiled her head, responding. "That's ludicrous! No one here is a traitor!"

"Do not take this the wrong way," Aragorn began in a wince, half over what he had to say, and half over the girl's louder than necessary voice, "but you are a cartographer...what makes you so sure of their intent?"

"Ah!" Y/n started, holding up one finger. “But it is BECAUSE I am a cartographer that I am so sure!" 

Knitting his brows dubiously, Aragorn took a moment to respond. He was quite used to her antics.

"I don't like where this is going—"

"You see," Y/n interjected brightly, "because I am good at reading maps—”

"Please don't finish that sentence-"

"I know how to find my way into someone's heart!" she finished, drawing a love-heart with her fingers.

Aragorn winced his eyes shut, taking in a deep breath.

Studying his mannerisms, Y/n pressed on—panning and open hand out behind her at every Fellowship member.

"Look, what I'm trying to say," she began defending herself and her friends, "is that I know these gentlemen—I know everything about them."

Seizing the moment to teach his apprentice a valuable lesson in the ways of being a survivalist ranger, Aragorn threw on his lecturing face—one she knew all too well.

"Well, you're a poor ranger if you don't think that people can surprise you," Aragorn tutored. 

"Not these people!" Y/n affirmed.

Finding that Aragorn merely, and rather doubtfully, quirked a brow, Y/n tutted her tongue. She turned to the side, so that she once again faced the Fellowship.

They, in turn, quickly averted their eyes—some striking up lazy conversations, and others idly whistling.

"Here, watch this," Y/n started again, scanning her eyes along the Fellowship, causing Aragorn to do the same. “I know what EVERYONE is going to do tonight."

As the Fellowship warily glanced between each other—concerned over their nightly antics being exposed aloud—Y/n began gesturing towards each and every member, demonstrating that she indeed did know her friends quite well. 

"Frodo is going to go to sleep early, so that he can wake up first," Y/n began rattling off, raising her brows at a gulping Frodo. “Simply because he enjoys having five minutes alone."

As Frodo lolled his head from side to side, considering her words—ultimately deciding that she was correct with a hum—Y/n pointed at Sam, promptly continuing on. 

"Sam is going to count each strand of rosemary within his herb container, as a way to fall asleep," she pressed on, earning a slow nod of concord from Sam. “Reminds him of home.”

Dragging her hand across to Merry and Pippin, Y/n spoke again. 

"Merry and Pippin are going to whisper weird things into Gimli's ears, because they're trying to subliminally teach him to give them both piggyback rides—”

"I'm sorry, what?" Gimli interjected. He snapped his glare across at a sheepish Merry and Pippin, who each rubbed a hand at the back of their necks.

"AND Gimli will say he's going to take the nightwatch, but promptly fall asleep," Y/n pressed on, dragging her pointed finger away from Gimli to land on a very wary Legolas. 

"Legolas is going to sneak off, and crack open his conditioner he thinks we all don't know about," Y/n exposed, causing the prince's gaze to widen. “And then he's going to douse all his locks in it to collect moisture overnight."

Humming in begrudging agreement, Legolas flickered his gaze up towards the sky in loving thought of his fragrant conditioner—nodding his head once in admittance. 

"That is correct," Legolas shamelessly confessed. 

As Boromir stoked the fire, he began lifting a silver pot of stew from the ground, so that he could place it over the fire on the suspended wooden spit. 

"AND," Y/n brightly began in conclusion, pointing at a preoccupied Boromir, "if I run, and leap at Boromir, he will most certainly catch me in his arms."

Before anyone within the temporary camp could comprehend the girl's words, she had immediately begun sprinting on over towards Boromir, who still held the pot of soup in his hands. 

"COMING IN!" Y/n hastily announced, darting towards an alarmed Boromir with fast movements.

"NO, I'M HOLDING THE STEW—”

With a crash and a clatter of the stew falling to the grass, Y/n had promptly leapt from the ground, and landed in Boromir’s arms, bridal-style.

Grinning, as Boromir stumbled backwards, Y/n sent her beam on over towards Aragorn.

"See?” Y/n began in glee. “I told you! I know each and EVERY member inside and out!"

As Aragorn bit down on his lower lip, Y/n patted Boromir on the chest thrice.

"Nothing to worry about at all! This Fellowship is legitimate!"

Promptly scurrying out from Boromir's arms, like a skittish cat, Y/n met the ground below again with a soft thud. She dusted off her hands, ignoring the sighs from her mentor.

Possessing all the confidence in the world, Y/n placed her hands on her hips and spoke one more time.

"We're going to be just fine!"

If only her words remained true. 

#i needed to exercise my brain before writing an essay #boom #this is the result #legolas x reader #lord of the rings x reader #lotr x reader #fellowship x reader #lotr imagine #lotr fanfic #x reader #boromir x reader #middle earth x reader #lotr crack #lotr shitpost #hobbit x reader #legolas greenleaf #legolas #aragorn x reader

[abeautifuldayfortea]

Autumn Picnic

Summary: Two hobbits enjoy simple autumn morning in the woods, takes place before Frodo’s 33rd birthday and the events of The Lord of the Rings. Requested by @amessywritersmind. Hope you enjoy! 

Hello!! I came across your masterlist page and saw that you were interested in taking requests for Frodo and I am here to deliver because I love him and hardly anyone writes for him. Anyways! What about something sweet where the reader and frodo go out to the woods to read and relax and the reader draws all this wildlife to her and Frodo just watches her interact with them because it’s adorable and then he realize he loves her and maybe he confesses? Something cute and sweet and naturey!! You can obviously do with it what you will!! Thank you in advance 💛

A/N: Fluff >_<

Words: 1117

Arm in arm, the two cloaked figures walked beneath the high red gold leaves of slender birches. The rising frost from whispered conversation captured in thin autumnal sun. Despite the stillness of the wood, the sound of distant birdsong and the scuttling of small creatures beneath the thick carpet of golden leaves assured them that they were not alone.

“I think that’s quite far enough now, don’t you?” Frodo huffed breathlessly. “We’ve been walking for far too long than can be good for a hobbit my size,” he patted his growing belly fondly.

They snorted. “It’ll do you some good, Mr Baggins, or you’ll be so portly you shall have to challenge Mr Fredegar Bolger for his namesake!”

But despite their chiding, they made to stop at near the rocky tumble of what had once been – and once again would be - a rapid flowing stream, hurtling itself upon the pebbles down south. Come summertime, Frodo thought suddenly wistful as he recalled Bilbo’s legends. Now the leaves are clogging up its flow, but what a beautiful sound it must make when its free to run. Perhaps we would hear the voice of Ulmo who lives in all waters. But before he had the chance to say so to his companion, his stomach growled, preposterously loud, mind you, sending ripples through the pleasant calmness of a lovely autumn day.

“I daresay you’re sounding a little peckish there,” his friend chortled and without a moment to spare they both unpacked their picnic provender. And so they took their elevensies perched upon a small knoll in the woods, wrapped in a comfortable silence as they grazed upon dried fruits, nuts and the treat of hard cheese to warm them in the chill air.

Before long, seeing that the hobbits had not moved from their rock, a rather bold and curious hare cautiously drew itself near, drinking from the trickling waters by their feet. A surprising visit. But Frodo found his eyes drawn ever toward the young hobbit beside him as the corners of their mouth turned up slightly and generously, they laid down the remainder of their packed meal for the forest animal, moving slowly and graciously as to not frighten it away before stealthily taking out a small leatherbound book and pencil. The hare’s ears, stood tall at attention, as it lumbered toward their offering turning this way and that, lightly vibrating with its shallow breaths. And sensing little ill intent from them, began to eat.

Frodo found himself lulled by the sounds around him and sitting there in quiet company with both his palms flat upon the rough rock and the papery feel of leaves beneath his feet, he felt complete and whole again as he had not felt since Drogo and Primula had been lost to the Brandywine. The sniffling of the hare, the rustle of the meagre leaves still lingering upon the trees, the hum of insects. The blunt scratching of the pencil against the paper. Yes, it was a moment of peace that he wanted to inhabit forever. But just as it had come upon a daydream, it was lost again.

The hare started suddenly, ears pricked and bolted away into the richness of bare forest. In the distance, the two spotted a young stoat rooting through the foliage, and behind the pale bars of the trees...

A bated breath hung. The click of a branch. The stoat looked up, nose sniffling the air with ferocity. The lightning flash of red against red, the skidding of four dirty paws upon the forest floor. The chase had begun. For a moment there was no sound but the intense rustling foliage. The stoat was quicker, its claws desperately scrambled for purchase upon bark as it clambered ever higher up the tree to its thin branches, swaying precariously in the wind where no fox could reach.

The chase was over. Sneezing disgracefully over its missed luncheon, the fox spotted the hobbits, half sitting, half crouching, from between the pale spires of the birches. ‘Hobbits? Rare in these parts at this time of year…’, it seemed to be saying. Frodo nearly sputtered out of indignance as he saw the sly look it shot them before slinking away, prizeless, into the hunger of the deep autumn.

His companion hummed, “D’you suppose the world outside, the Shire I mean, is really that dangerous?”

“Well, I suppose there would be wolves, though that never stopped Uncle Bilbo from going on his adventure.”

“Maybe they’re the kin of the White Wolves from the Fell Winter all those years ago. I heard they’re mercilessly ravenous, tall as a man and stout as dwarves. I’m glad they aren’t around anymore. I bet they’d run us right back into our cosy little smials and keep us there until we starve! If they haven’t caught us by then that is.” They shivered and Frodo felt the urge to wrap his arm around them.

“Nonsense, dear! That would be a very grim end to our hopes of adventure! I’m glad to be a hobbit and not a stoat with a fox on my tail.”

“Maybe we are stoats, just living in a land without foxes to eat us.”

“If you could, would you leave?”

“Maybe, maybe not. I would like to think that I would, but there are other considerations too that are less easily predicted” they whispered. “In other words, depends on who’s asking and when” they finished playfully, fidgeting the charcoal pencil lightly between stained fingers.

A warmth bloomed within him and he guessed at the hidden meaning of those words. Frodo turned to meet their gaze, and in their eyes he saw reflected in them a hopeful future, one of many winding endlessly as roads do to an end he could not see. Family. And it was love, he was sure. It was a road that he only had to reach out and walk upon. His mouth dried.

“I’m asking. Would you walk with me?”

Silence. The tension was thick, and he feared for a moment the rejection, that he had taken the great leap only to never find purchase on solid ground. He wished then, that he had never said anything at all because he would rather hold his heart close and unfulfilled than be humiliated. His gaze lowered and he found his eyes tracing the rough lines of the sketch in the book upon their lap, curving and leaping into the very vision of a certain bold hare.

But he was reassured by a warm hand on his as his companion nestled closer into his side, closing the distance between them. He could hear the smile in their voice.

“I think I would.”

#Frodo #frodo baggins #lotr frodo #lotr fanfic #hobbits #frodo x reader #frodo imagine

[falcor-thee-luck-dragon]

Legolas x elven reader

Summary: At long last you have finally admitted your innermost feelings for the Woodland Prince to your dear friend Aragorn, at the same time he has learned of the feelings Legolas has kept for you. Now you and Legolas have a chance to express how you both truly feel for one another.

Part 1 is here

-Requested by @sokkasdarling​

Gandalf had called for everyone to continue onward, just as a tiny rock rickashayed off the side of your head, you snapped your attention down to the right. Where Pippin stood, looking down and desperately trying to avoid eye contact at all costs. You heard a deep and hearty laugh from farther on the rocks, raising your sights in that direction you found Aragorn doing a terrible job at holding in his amusement. You raised an eyebrow to him as you caught the sight of a smiling Legolas, “Yes hilarious.” You deadpanned with a roll of your elfish eyes, in good humor of course. You turned to Pippin who was quickly finding his courage again as he confidently looked upon your annoyed face. You flashed him a friendly smile before silently clenching your fist and shaking it at him in a mock bit of anger. He just stuck his tongue out at you before skipping over to Merry and Sam like the little bastard he is. 

The ten of you had made your way down the other side of the rocky hill without much indecent to be concerned of, past a small stream for a water break, near to a small herd of deer, and now you all travel through open grass fields with the occasional large bush as you pass by. During all this time it had occurred to you in your keen observations that the silver haired prince seemed more jubilant then usual. He appeared to hold himself with a confident and tireless stride as he walked ahead of you and half of the Fellowship.

 His blue eyes would linger on you when everyone took that five minute break at the stream, and since his talk with Aragorn earlier his whole being seemed to change ever so slightly. You could not place why, could he know something you don’t? Did Aragorn tell him about your feelings for him? Now since you’ve pondered over the idea it does seem very plausible considering they both spoke together not even three hours ago. If only you hadn’t been distracted by those pesky hobbits would you have been able to listen in on their conversation. 

Letting out an unbothered huff of air you keep moving through the grass as Merry and Pippin trail behind you, then Boromir, Sam leading Bill the pony, and finally at the rear Aragorn. You can tell how exhausted the hobbits are becoming since most of the day was trudging uphill for hours on end, if you were human you’d without a doubt be just as tired. Luckily you are not, and this whole day has been mostly a breeze, with the exception that you have great suspicions about Legolas and what Aragorn had told him. 

Alas the sun begins its slow decent upon the wilds of the land, alerting Gandalf to pick a place among the grass and bushes before the hastily approaching night swallows you whole. Soon a fire is made and food is divided around for everyone to have a share, you stare up at the stars as Gimli tells an elaborate story about the first time that he killed an orc. You sit comfortably on a bedroll in between Frodo and Pippin who are listening intently with wide eyes. Across the fire sits Legolas, who shares a knowing look with you as everyone listens to Gimli who’s most certainly exaggerating his story. 

Legolas gives you a fond smile and for the first time do you both stop to share a comfortable moment together. It feels like the world has evaded you and no sounds are to be heard, all your focus and means of care are on the prince who stares back at you with those big beautiful eyes of his. It’s truly entrancing until Gimli breaks your moment, “Ey lass, a good orc is a dead one huh.” You suddenly turn to him, caught of guard by his random question that you only heard the last part to.

“Oh uh, yes. Same goes for goblins or trolls.” You first turn to Pippin then Frodo, “Very valuable information.”

Gimli lets out a laugh of approval at your quick wit as he dives back into the story once again. Though you are surrounded by friends and safety for the time being, your heart cannot stop from fluttering with nervousness even now, Legolas is doing things to you and he doesn’t even know it. After what felt like hours of story telling does the Fellowship settle down for the night. The fire dissipates to low burning embers as your companions place themselves around it.

 You cannot catch sleep if you tried so instead do you take the first nights watch, covering Frodo and Pippin with your extra blanket do you stand up to walk a bit away from your sleeping friends. The night sky is decorated with thousands of glimmering stars as a crescent moon stares down back at you with a pleasing smile. A comforting gentle breeze brushes past your face, sending your cloak in rhythmic flaps against your body. You close your eyes and listen to the sounds of the grass as it sways in the wind, your friends soft breathing, the flick of Bills tail, and the familiar sound of Legolas’ light footsteps in the grass. 

A smile forms onto your lips as he slowly approaches you, “Come to join me on watch?” You ask, opening your eyes once again to find the woodland prince to your left, he turns to you with a warm smile upon his dashing features.

“I thought you would enjoy the company.”

“You know me well then.”

The two of you settle into a comfortable silence, the both of you trying to search for the next words to say, you’re not entirely sure how to start with what you want you really want to say to him. Your anxieties suddenly brushed away as Legolas goes to speak first, “Uh...Y/N I.......Aragorn had told me something..”

“Huh, now what secrets would that ranger have to share?”

“Actually it was yours.” He looks at you with a worried face, afraid that he had started off wrong, your heart speeds up as you avoid eye contact with him but only for a moment before your eyes are searching for his once again.

“Oh...I wouldn’t have any idea as to what he might have told you.” Is all that you can mutter, he brings his sight up from the ground to study your stunned face, he suddenly breaks out into the kindest smile you’ve ever seen.

“I feel like you do.” Says Legolas softly, at this your nerves prick in anticipation and excitement, nothing on his face indicates anything false.

“What would that be then?” You ask in a hushed voice as you stare longingly into his beaming eyes.

 “I did not realize how your heart leapt as mine does when I look upon your face. No elleth has so unknowingly taken the very stars out of the sky in the way that you have Y/N....I would like it very much if you would have me, for the rest of our days in this world, and beyond those into the lands of eternal summer.” 

Your breath catches in your throat as a lump forms and a tightness grows in your chest, keeping you from saying anything comprehensible. You definitely had not anticipated Legolas to straight up confess his undying love to you in one night. But as your kind is known for, once two fall in love, they fall with all of their heart and soul in a way that no human, dwarf, or hobbit could ever understand. Your eyes soften as unexpected tears well up in the corners of your eyes. You’re not usually so moved by words, but in all the centuries in middle earth not once has anyone said something so wholeheartedly kind to you like this.

“I do not know if we shall even survive through our quest.” You reply in a whisper, he looks towards the ground at your feet, a heartbroken expression crossing onto his shadowed face as he begins to doubt Aragorn’s confession of yours, “If I am to spend however long I have left, I would want no other then you, Legolas.” He pulls his attention back up to you in an instant, his heart swelling with happiness and relief as you continue, “You have taken my heart and I never want it back.” You finally confess as you reach out your hands to touch his own, he looks deeply into your eyes while he interlocks his hands with yours.

“Then I will keep it safe forever, just as you’ve asked...if you will do the same for me?”

“No one will ever find it.”

He smiles at that, letting out the softest of laughs that’s pure music to your own pointed ears within the quiet of the night. Your own lips break into a beaming smile, a surge of absolute joy and adoration seeping throughout your entire vessel. He settles down once again, its just you and him in this giant world of chaos and calm, his eyes are so bright and he feels like a dream.

 Then just like that the two of you are leaning in without a care in the world, his lips are soft and inviting as his hands break from your grasp to snake around your waist. Pulling you in closer, so as you melt into one, he is gentle and delicate as he moves his hand to caress the side of your face. When you both can’t take the lack of breath anymore do you begrudgingly pull away, your faces flushed and beaming with pure bliss and love. 

“I think I would like to do that with you everyday for as long as we may live, meleth nin.”

“As do I my prince.” 

#legolas x y/n #legolas x reader #legolas #LOTR #lotr imagine #lotr x reader #prince of the woodland realm

[morgon--dagen]

Elleskudt, Part I

Pairing: Haldir x OC Word Count: 2, 301 Warnings: Smut (in Part II) Link to Part II: https://morgon--dagen.tumblr.com/post/641929619922108416/elleskudt-part-ii Link to AO3 post: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29113047/chapters/71466606 Background: I am currently in the process of writing a multi-chapter Thranduil x OC fanfic (be gentle with me, I have not written a single fanfic in a long time) and it occurred to me that one of the chapters would be pretty cool with an alternative turn of events, which didn’t really seem to fit with my vision for the whole original story, so I decided to make it into a separate fanfiction. The plot of the master fanfiction from which this is derived is not important to the plot of this one, so all you need to know is pretty much that the elleth OC, called Ringelen is imprisoned along with the dwarves (takes place during the Hobbit) and Thranduil takes her to Lorien to have his questions about her answered by Galadriel and Celeborn, because the elleth wouldn’t give him any answers herself. At the border of Lorien, Ringelen and the Mirkwood company are met by the march warden of Lorien whom Ringelen finds a bone to pick with. As it turns out, she has found the wrong elf to mess with, because Haldir finds an untraditional way to put her in her place for her boldness. Title Meaning: From Danish, “elleskudt” literally translates to “elf-shot” and is derived from old Norwegian folk tales, where people would get shot with poisonous arrows by creatures in the forest, causing them to fall ill. I warped the meaning in the sense of the fiction, as Haldir didn’t shoot Ringelen with his actual arrow, but the figurative one that he shot her with caused her to betray her principles.

As the prisoner walked in front of the whole company at a small distance, she was in her waking dream state that was so typical for any elf, as she needed her kind of rest for all the walking. Suddenly, her waking dream was interrupted by an arrow pointed straight at her face, which sure was not a part of her dream.

“Stop!” she shouted, in order to prevent the company from moving further, where it could possibly be unsafe. She then turned her eyes to the possessor of the bow and a glimmer of threat and at the same time curiosity could be seen in them.

“How unvigilant for an elf, you almost walked into an arrow willingly,” the elf holding the bow mocked.

“How uncourteous for an elf, to point an arrow at a fellow elleth,” the elleth bit back.

“I would not trust not to point an arrow at an elleth whom is evidently in chains,” the elf raised his eyebrows after he shot a quick glance at the shackles upon the elleth’s wrists.

“Oh, you mean these?” the elleth raised her enchained hands, “These are just a misunderstanding, I assure you, but you would have to learn more about it from the elven king, seeing as you were...” she paused meaningfully, “unvigilant enough to notice that this enchained elleth is accompanied by the royals of Mirkwood,” she smirked. The elf barely curled the corner of his lips in an ironic smirk.

“My lord Thranduil,” the elf raised his voice as the king approached and he sharply turned his bow to the ground away from the elleth, “It has been some time since you last came visiting fair Lorien. Greetings, I am Haldir – Marchwarden of Lothlorien. What brings you hither?”

“Well met, march warden. I have matters to discuss with the Lord and Lady, if you would give us your leave to pass,” the king announced.

“That goes without saying, my Lord, however, I am not sure of your prisoner here,” the march warden turned his suspicious gaze to the elleth.

“Do not worry about her, she will not bother anyone in these restraints,” Thranduil smiled at her ironically.

“Keep telling yourself that,” she muttered under her breath, but being an elf, Thranduil heard her, as she very well expected and he squinted at her threateningly.

“Very well, my lord, then you all have my leave to pass, follow me,” the march warden proclaimed as he turned one last time with suspicion to the prisoner.

“Be very afraid,” she whispered mockingly before he turned away and led the way into Lorien.

“That is enough, Ringelen,” the King ordered sternly, overhearing the elleth. “You seem to have a way with folk in position of power - a way of antagonizing them, that is,” he stated with amusement without turning to the elleth.

“You could say I have a way with such folk, yes, but what do you mean by ‘antagonizing’? – it is quite evident that he is fond of me, and so are you,” the elleth replied boldly with irony.

“Quite evidently, if one is so fond of you, they would not put you in restraints or point their sharp arrows at you,” Thranduil retorted. The elleth laughed.

“It depends,” she replied, more to herself than to him as she kept her gaze ahead, following the path of the march warden.

 As Haldir led them to the house of the Lord and the Lady in Caras Galadhon, they were surprised to find that the Lord and Lady were already expecting them. Haldir’s brothers, Rumil and Orophin, had already brought the news of the oncoming guests.

“Welcome, Thranduil, king of the Woodland realm, welcome Legolas, son of Thranduil,” Lady Galadriel greeted them with her never fading smile and she paused before she turned to the elleth, “and welcome, Ringelen of Eregion, I have heard much of you from your guardian – the Lord Elrond of Rivendell. He would be quite perturbed to find out what you have landed yourself in,” she teased with a warm smile.

“My fair Lady,” the elleth bowed, her tone was completely different and humble when talking to the Lady, as opposed to the manner of speaking that Thranduil and Haldir had provoked in her. “I assure you that when he finds out what the quest I took upon has brought onto me, he would self-handedly surrender me to king Thranduil and his dungeons, if that would withhold me from any further quests,” Ringelen explained almost gravely, but with a tone of humor, fully acknowledging her own situation. The lady laughed gently and the sound filled the air with joy.

“I am in no position to guide the king’s ruling hand when it comes to his own prisoners, but here in Lorien, you are a free elleth, so if the king would be so kind as to release you for the duration of your stay, I would be most grateful,” she turned meaningfully to Thranduil. “I do not believe they are necessary to begin with, for based on what I know, this is her being courteous – I am not convinced that those chains would have stopped her from escaping you on your way here,” Galadriel shot a knowing glance at Ringelen with a smile. “Do not worry, if she should by any chance try to leave, I doubt that Haldir will give her an easy time.” With these words, Haldir turned to the elleth and everything in his gaze just spoke ‘I will be watching you’. Ringelen shot him an ironic smile as she raised her eyebrows, hinting that she would not be easily subdued.

“Most certainly, my Lady,” the king bowed his head slightly, his silver-blond hair cascading down his shoulders, even though there was the slightest bit of reluctance that he should remove the restraints. “Legolas, unbind her. I will need you to keep her close under watch, march warden, while my son and I are occupied with the business which concerns us.”

“If you do not mind me saying, Lord, a piece of advice would be to replace them across her mouth,” Haldir said as he looked at Ringelen.

“As the fairest of ladies mentioned, march warden Haldir, you will come to find that it would take much more than chains to bind me – hands or otherwise,” she almost whispered and Haldir could not help thinking that his name rolled nicely off her tongue. While elves were not ones to be smitten by looks, he could not deny that she was as beautiful as a cold winter night with her long black hairs falling down her white shoulders, at the same time she was as hard as steel and as proud as a mountain and this wildness in her sparked his interest, but this spark could not burn out the irritation that she caused him. No one had ever dared to talk down to him like that and he did not like it.

“I could figure something out,” Haldir hinted with an even tone of threat.

“Please, make sure to let me in on your ideas,” Ringelen retorted.

“I might indeed be compelled to beyond my will.”

“Your spirit can certainly not be bound, Ringelen and we shall need more and more such spirits in Middle-earth as years advance,” the lady cut in with a smile with the intention to stop this brawl which seemed like it could and very well would go on forever. “I would like to hear of your quest so far, as soon as king Thranduil’s questions have been answered,” Galadriel slowly turned her all-knowing gaze from Ringelen to Thranduil and gestured that he follows her and the lord. Ringelen and Haldir were solely left behind and she sighed deeply. She knew that she could not possibly leave Lorien unnoticed, therefore she did not even intend to (not to mention she could not go back into Mirkwood for the dwarves without being caught and put under double watch), but if she was to take in the beauty of fair Lorien for the first time, she certainly did not fancy having a march warden on her tail – a quite bold march warden nonetheless. She gave him a meaningful look as she turned on the heel of her boot and let her feet take her just anywhere in Lorien.

“On your way to attempt to escape, I suppose,” Haldir followed her as she expected he would and she rolled her eyes.

“You really believe that, do you not?” She questioned rhetorically with barely any emotion in her tone. “I am on my way to see the beauty of Lorien with my own eyes – the only joyful thing that I will get to do for a long time, if you must know my intentions, march warden.”

“Then if you would take my advice, though I would hardly suffer to be the one to bring you to your joy, I can show you a place where you can bring this intention of yours to life,” the march warden stated flatly.

“I am most tempted to refuse anything you could offer, but I have longed to behold Lorien for way too long to give in to this...impulse and seeing as you dwell here, you would know much better what is most worth seeing,” she shot him a meaningful glance, “lead the way then, if you will, march warden.” Ringelen stated a little more courteously and with an ever so slight bow of his head, almost a mocking one, he took the lead.

They walked in tense silence up a hill, Ringelen unsure where to stop her gaze first on the way there, as everything seemed worth being absorbed by her sight and everything seemed to warm her soul, so her head would constantly turn left and right, like an excited small child would. That is indeed how she felt, for through all her years, the only look upon Lothlorien she had ever had was through the words in her books and it seemed now even to her, an elf, like a fantasy come to life.

“I bid you welcome to Cerin Amroth,” Haldir announced as they reached the top of the hill and Ringelen’s breath was caught in her chest. The view that was revealed to her was far beyond the wildest fruits of her imagination.

“You really meant what you said, did you not,” Ringelen rather stated than asked, as she recalled Haldir’s words. He held back a smirk. She was now a completely different elleth than the one he had met at the border of the realm. She was peaceful and fully absorbed by the sight. For all it was worth, she decided could spare him a retort or two in exchange of him having brought her to this place of pure magic. She gazed at Caras Galadhon and as reluctant as she was to snap out of her daze, she turned to the other side and could see Anduin and southern Mirkwood, which made her acknowledge how long the way was to come hither from the great forest. Haldir was himself entranced by the view, though he had seen it many times, he never grew tired of it, but at the same time he was internally gloating, for he considered her reaction to the view a small victory on his side.

“I will be here for a while, just so you know,” Ringelen finally broke the silence as she finally turned to Haldir, seeing him stand quietly not far from her. Now that he stood on the background of this magical place, she could appreciate that he was handsome in his sternness as the southern wind blew through his blond hair, but sharing his own thoughts on the matter, this did not take away the slightest bit of irritation that he had brought to her, though the feeling was mellowed down ever so slightly after this gesture of his. She knelt and propped herself up on her left hand as she bore her sight into the distance again, looking almost as she owned the hill. Haldir examined her for a moment before making up his mind. He could easily leave her to her own devices, for even at the opposite side of Lorien, he would still know of her every move.

“If you should try anything at all, I will know,” though his tone was ever so stern, there was barely a trace of threat in it this time.

“No one would risk the wrath of the king,” Ringelen almost whispered with a grin, seemingly more to herself than to Haldir, as she did not turn his gaze towards him. She was amused at the turmoil she seemed to be causing for Thranduil with her very presence.

“No one but you, it appears,” the march warden noticed with a hint of blame mixed with fascination, as he was aware of the king’s temper no less than very much every elf.

“The wrath of kings is my playground,” she whispered again and her grin widened. Her tone suggested that no more was to be said, so Haldir turned on his heel hesitantly, inspecting her one last time before he went down the hill.

Long she lingered on the hill and she seemed to have lost her sense of time, as Haldir appeared once again, almost surprised that she had not moved from where he left her, for he had kept watch over her from afar. He brought news that there was to be a feast in honor of the guests, to which she was invited along with the king and the prince of Mirkwood. The lady had insisted that she would be present. Ringelen hesitated, for she was not one for feasts, but she held deep respect for the Lady and the Lord and made up her mind to appear at the feast after all.

#haldir #haldir ff #haldir fanfic #haldir fanfiction #haldir x oc #haldir x oc ff #lotr #lotr ff #lotr fanfic #lotr fanfiction #lord of the rings #lord of the rings ff #lord of the rings fanfic #lord of the rings fanfiction #haldir smut #my fanfiction #morgon--dagen #th ff #th fanfic #th fanfiction #the hobbit #the hobbit fanfic #the hobbit fanfiction #the hobbit ff

[ynnu-64]

Quick! Kiss! You don’t get a lot of time together:P

#the hobbit #hobbits shall have tails !!! #bagginshield #thorin oakenshield #bilbo baggins #thorin x bilbo #hobbit fanart #my art

[elliemarchetti]

An Unfriendly Waste

As someone seems to have appreciated the previous chapter, here is the sixth, in which Elva, the half-elf protagonist who left together with the Fellowship in place of Legolas, and her companions begin to sail south.

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

Words: 2250

The Fellowship went on their long way down the wide hurrying waters, borne ever southwards. Bare wood stalked along either bank, and they couldn’t see any glimpse of the lands behind. The breeze died away and the River flowed without a sound, not even the birds’ voices breaking the silence. The sun grew misty as the day grew old, until it gleamed in a pale sky like a high white pearl, fading finally into the West, followed by an early dusk and a grey, starless night. Far into the dark quiet hours they floated on, guiding their boats under the overhanging shadows of the western woods. Great trees passed by like ghosts, thrusting their twisted thirsty roots through the mist and down into the dreary, cold water. Elva sat listening to the faint lap and gurgle of the River fretting near the shore, until her head nodded and she fell into an uneasy sleep on Haldir’s shoulder, who carried her ashore and wrapped her in his cloak, as Gimli, who had taken on the task of lightning a small fire, later brough back to her.

"You've been lucky, if it was just my job I don't know if I would’ve managed not to get you into the water, as tall as you are," joked the dwarf. To have elven blood, Elva wasn’t particularly tall, but to dwarves and hobbits they all had to appear equally part of the Tall People. The time for jokes was incredibly short, as they started again before the day was broad, not that most of the Fellowship were eager to hurry southwards: they were content that the decision, which they must make at latest when they came to Rauros and the Tindrock Isle, still lay some days ahead, so they let the River bear them on at its own pace, having no desire to hasten towards the perils that lay beyond, whichever course they took in the end. Haldir let them drift with the stream as they wished, husbanding their strength against weariness to come, but Aragorn insisted that at least they should start early each day and journey on far into the evening, for he felt in his heart that time was pressing, and he feared that the Dark Lord hadn’t been idle while they lingered in Lorien. Nonetheless, they saw no sign of any enemy that day, nor the next. The dull grey hours passed without event, but as the third day of their voyage wore on, the lands changed slowly: the trees thinned and then failed altogether, while on the eastern bank they saw long formless slopes stretching up and away towards the sky, brown and withered, as if fire had passed over them, leaving no living blade of green, an unfriendly waste with nothing to relieve the emptiness. They had come to the Brown Lands that lay, vast and desolate, between Southern Mirkwood and the hills of the Emyn Muil. What pestilence or war or evil deed of the Enemy had so blasted all that region, even Haldir couldn’t tell. Upon the west, to their right, the land was also treeless, but flat, and in many places green with wide plains of grass. On this side of the River they passed forests of great reeds, so tall that they shut out all view to the west, as the little boats went rustling by along their fluttering borders. Their dark withered plumes bent and tossed in the light cold airs, hissing softly and sadly. Here and there through openings Elva could catch sudden glimpses of rolling meads, and far beyond them hills in the sunset, and away on the edge of sight a dark line, where marched the southernmost ranks of the Misty Mountains. There was no sign of living moving things, save birds, but they were seldom seen, small fowl whistling and piping in the reeds. Once or twice the travelers heard the rush and whine of swan-wings, and looking up they saw a great, black phalanx streaming along the sky.

“How wide, empty and mournful all this country looks,” said Elva. “When I was younger, I always imagined that as one journeyed south, it got warmer and merrier, until winter was left behind forever.”

“But we haven’t journeyed far south yet,” answered Haldir. “It’s still winter, and we’re far from the sea: here the world is cold until the sudden spring, and we may yet have snow again. Far away down in the Bay of Belfalas it’s warm and merry, or would be but for the Enemy. You are looking now south-west across the north plains of the Riddermark, ere long we shall come to the mouth of the Limlight that runs down from Fangorn to join the Great River. That is the north boundary of Rohan, and of old all that lay between Limlight and the White Mountains belonged to the Rohirrim. It’s a rich and pleasant land, and its grass has no rival, but in these evil days, folk don’t dwell by the River or ride often to its shores. Anduin is wide, yet the orcs can shoot their arrows far across the stream, and of late, it’s said they have dared to cross the water and raid the herds and studs of Rohan.”

Elva looked from bank to bank uneasily. The trees had seemed hostile before, as if they harbored secret eyes and lurking dangers; now she wished that the trees were still there, as she felt that the Fellowship was too naked, afloat in little open boats in the midst of shelterless lands, on a river that was the frontier of war. In the next day or two, as they went on, borne steadily southwards, this feeling of insecurity grew on all the Fellowship, so they took the paddle and hastened forward, the banks sliding by and the River broadening and growing shallower: long stony beaches laid upon the east, and there were gravel-shoals in the water, so that careful steering was needed. Elva shivered, thinking of the lawns and fountains, the clear sun and gentle rains of Lothlorien. There was little speech and no laughter in any of the boats for each occupant was busy with his own thoughts: Haldir’s heart was running under the stars of a summer night, Merry and Pippin were ill at ease, for Boromir sat muttering to himself, sometimes biting his nails, as if some restlessness or doubt consumed him, sometimes seizing a paddle and driving the boat close behind Aragorn’s to peer forward, gazing at Frodo. Sam had long ago made up his mind that, though boats were maybe not as dangerous as he had been brought up to believe, they were far more uncomfortable than even he had imagined. He was cramped and miserable, having nothing to do but stare at the winter-lands crawling by and the grey water on either side of him. Even when the paddles were in use, they didn’t trust him with one. As dusk drew down on the fourth day, he was looking back over Frodo and Aragorn’s bowed heads when something suddenly caught his sight: at first, he stared at it listlessly, then he sat up and rubbed his eyes, but when he looked again, he couldn’t see it anymore. When they camped for the night, certain that no one was paying attention to him, he decided to talk about it with Elva, sure she was the one who would understand the most.

“A log with eyes?” she asked, partly perplexed, partly for confirmation.

“I saw what I took to be a log floating along in the half-light behind Boromir’s boat, but I didn’t give much heed to it,” he confirmed. “Then it seemed as if the log was slowly catching us up, and that was peculiar, as you might say, seeing as we were all floating on the stream together. Just then I saw the shiny eyes, on a hump at the near end of the log. What’s more, it wasn’t a log, for it had paddle-feet, like a swan’s almost, only they seemed bigger, and kept dipping in and out of the water; that’s when I sat right up and rubbed my eyes, meaning to give a shout, if it was still there when I had rubbed the drowse out of my head, for the whatever-it-was was coming along fast now and getting close behind our friends. but whether those two lamps spotted me moving and staring, or whether I came to my senses, I don’t know: when I looked again, it wasn’t there, yet I think I caught a glimpse, with the tail of my eye, as the saying is, of something dark shooting under the shadow of the bank. I couldn’t see no more eyes, so I said to myself I was dreaming again, but I’ve been thinking since, and now I’m not so sure. What do you make of it?”

“I should make nothing of it but a log, the dusk and sleep in your eyes, if this was the first time that those eyes had been seen, but it isn’t, and Haldir beheld a strange creature with eyes climbing to the flet that night we slept in the woods, and Elves reported something like that too going after the orcs,” replied Elva, thoughtful.

“I don’t like my thoughts, but thinking of one thing and another, and Mr. Bilbo’s stories, I fancy I could put a name on the creature,” replied the hobbit, instilling a certain terror in her. She had only a vague idea of what Bilbo Baggins had been through on his journey with the dwarves, but whatever might’ve followed them from Moria was no good news.

"I'm not going to ask of your suspicions, just if we have to fear for our lives, or for the mission,” Elva said, wondering why her companion spoke of the matter specifically with her.

"According to Gandalf's thought, I believe that nothing in this journey can be considered safe, and for this I cannot be sure that what I have seen isn’t a risk, but as wise as the Lady you are in your words, since I haven’t yet discussed with Mr. Frodo about it, and I'm not sure I can divulge the details of his relative's story,” Sam replied, slightly blushing. Whether it was for the compliment just given, or for having openly admitted that he was keeping a secret from her, Elva never knew, but still advised him to talk about it with his friend, and once they came to a conclusion, to feel free to talk openly with her, since she wouldn't have mentioned anything to anyone if they didn't want to.

"For the moment, I'll just have an extra eye on it," she concluded, and no more was said that night, though Sam’s words still lingered in her mind for a long time. Was Galadriel as wise as everyone assumed and it was just her whom had misjudged her actions? Or was she a ruthless leader, devoted solely to her own lands and willing to sacrifice her people as needed? Certainly power could’ve corrupted her in far worse ways, and since the bearer of the ring was a hobbit, a being who could do nothing against an elf of that kind, if her heart had been moved by the thirst to be a worthy rival for the Enemy, she could’ve stolen it from him, by deception or by force, yet she hadn't. In conclusion, perhaps she had judged her too harshly, thanks to the fear she had towards her own King, his immense power and fickle character. If only Gandalf had still been among them, she could’ve asked for more information, as he had been the one who suggested to go to Lothlorien, certain that its Lady would offer them help and advice. With those dark thoughts lingering in her head, she fell asleep and came out of it only when Haldir shook her gently in the early morning.

“It’s a shame to wake you,” he whispered, “but it’s time.”

Sure, it was time to go, but it was time to start thinking too about when their paths would part, perhaps forever. If sleeping under the same roof and strolling through the streets of Caras Galadhon had united them, those silent journeys and those kindnesses exchanged under a black and starless sky, in a place where beauty and goodness had long been forgotten, had tightened the knot even more strongly, and Elva feared that to untie it, it would be necessary to cut something, which she was afraid, at least on her side, it would never grow back.

"You should discuss what torments your heart," Gimli said one day, when they docked to rest. After the night Sam had talked to her about the log with eyes, they had reversed their schedule, sleeping by day and travelling by night.

“It would be of no use,” she replied, while setting a rudimental camp, “for what troubles my heart is as inevitable as death itself.”

"Unheard of! A half-elf who talks about death! You will still see endless sunrises, and you will explore the world more than my long-lived race can, before reaching the sunset of your time, and yet you are here to worry about the same pains of us all," the dwarf teased, glancing sideways at Haldir. "It’s true that those who have more time don’t know how to use it.”

Elva didn’t reply, but blushed violently, and that was enough for Gloin's son.

#haldir x fem oc #haldir of lothlorien #half elf oc #gimli son of gloin #legolas greenleaf #aragorn #frodo baggins #sam gamgee #gandalf the grey #galadriel #lotr #the fellowship of the ring

[lindirs-gaze]

#39 from the prompt list with Holly and Bilbo bc I miss them? 🥺👉🏼👈🏼

oh so it’s REWIND time huh? alright here we go, in my head this takes place like chapter 11-ish

39) "You're the only one I want to talk to."

Holly didn’t realize she wasn’t alone until she nearly hit Bilbo in the face with a stick.

He managed to duck out of the way with a yelp of surprise, and she spun around.

“Sorry!” She lowered the branch in her hand. “I was just, um...” She glanced at the gray-haired dog that was waiting expectantly for her to throw the stick. Like all of Beorn’s animals, it was enormous, the top of its head reaching her shoulder. After double-checking that she wasn’t about to take anyone’s eye out, she tossed the branch, and the dog bounded after it.

Bilbo made a show of brushing himself off, though he didn’t look annoyed. “If I’d known I was going to be attacked, I would have stayed inside.”

“I didn’t notice you. You’re nearly silent when you move around.” She glanced down at his bare feet. “Does that not cause problems back home?”

Bilbo shrugged. “Not that I’ve noticed.”

The dog came trotting back to them, dropped the stick at her feet, then backed up a few steps, its tail wagging furiously. Holly tried to find the least slobber-covered part of the stick, then threw it again.

“What’s it doing?” Bilbo asked, sticking his hands in his coat pockets.

Now it was Holly’s turn to shrug. “Dogs like doing this sort of thing. Sometimes I would play with the ones in Lake-town.”

“There aren’t many dogs in the Shire. Most of them are kept by farmers, but I’ve always tried to keep my distance. They make me a little nervous, if I’m being honest.”

The dog returned to them once more, panting happily, and Bilbo rocked on his heels.

“Well, just stay behind me, and I’ll protect you from the bloodthirsty hound.” Holly reached out and scratched behind the dog’s ears with a smile. “You’re a vicious one, aren’t you?” She glanced back at Bilbo and jerked her chin, prompting him to come closer.

He hesitated. “You’re sure it won’t bite?”

“Promise.”

Bilbo moved beside her and stretched his hand out to carefully stroke the top of the dog’s head. It leaned into his touch, and he relaxed. “There’s a good boy.”

Holly observed him silently, warmth glowing in her chest. It hadn’t been an easy journey thus far, especially not for a hobbit who had never left his homeland before, but she liked catching these little moments, these discoveries of joy and beauty in a world full of hardship.

After a moment, he looked up at her, and she busied herself with her sleeve, hoping he hadn’t caught her staring.

“Should we head back inside?” Bilbo asked. “The others will probably have supper ready soon.

“I might stay out for a while longer,” Holly said, trying to keep her voice light. Even if she was continuing with the Company on their journey, she was no longer sure where she stood with them.

Bilbo’s expression softened as he caught on to her hesitation. “I think it might do you some good to talk to them. Surely they aren’t all angry with you.”

“You’re the only one I want to talk to.”

She blurted the words before she was able to stop herself, and heat flamed on her cheeks. Bilbo’s eyes widened slightly.

“I mean...” She blinked rapidly. “I know that I’ll speak to the others. That I’ll have to. I just meant that you’re the only one who...” She trailed off. She wasn’t even sure how to finish that sentence, to put into words what it was that set Bilbo apart from the others.

To her relief, he didn’t appear annoyed or offended. He only cocked his head and said, “You know, back home I didn’t have many close friends. I suppose I was just content to keep to myself, or perhaps I never found anyone I could truly connect with.” He gave her a sidelong glance, and her heart fluttered. “I don't really know where I’m going with this, but, well, I’m glad I met you.”

“Me too,” she said softly.

“Shall we?” he held an arm out.

“All right.” She let out a short sigh and decided to put her fears aside for the moment. She linked arms with him, and they walked back towards the house together.

---

[If you want to read more of Holly’s story, you can find it here.]

#ahh man it takes me back writing these two #the hobbit #bilbo baggins #oc #my writing #drabbles

[365days365movies]

March 1, 2021: The Hobbit (Part 2)

Time for the Desolation of Smaug chapter of this movie!

Since I’m dividing this up by the Jackson movie standards, I should mention that my favorite of those films is the second one. I love An Unexpected Journey, mostly because of Gollum, and also because when I went to the midnight premiere, I dressed up as a Nazgul and went up to people dressed up as hobbits and whispered “SHIIIIIIRRRRRRE. BAGGIIIIINNNSSSSSS” uncomfortably close to them, and it was great.

But you know what Desolation of Smaug had? Fuckin’ Smaug. And also, Benedict Cumberbatch doing this.

That shit is HILARIOUS. Also, Smaug was fucking awesome, and genuinely my favorite part of the trilogy. I mean, Gollum as well, but he didn’t get enough of the first film to call him my favorite part of all three movies. He’s in second place, though.

Anyway, excited to see Smaug, so let’s get into it, shall we? First part of the Recap is right here!

Recap (2/3)

No time to linger about, as the Goblins are on our group’s tail, riding Wargs. However, with Gandalf’s help, the group escapes their clutches, as Gandalf summons...giant eagles...which I totally forgot about until now. Don’t mention the eagles thing...DON’T MENTION THE EAGLES THING...

Anyway, I realize I’m cheating here, since this is part of An Unexpected Journey, but...I legit forgot that this was the ending of that movie. It’s been a while. So, OK, the gang flees not-Azog and the eagles fly them away. The King of the Eagles thanks Gandalf for his help back in the day, and Gandalf is like, “s’all good dude, I’ll never call you again”, and they take off.

Gandalf takes off too, even though the group isn’t exactly happy about that. Especially considering that the eagles dropped them off in a dangerous-ass forest called Mirkwood. To get their bearings, Bilbo’s forced to climb the tallest tree in the woods, and when he does, he sees a flock of black butterflies, which he sees as so beautiful that it changes him.

When he climbs back down and the group goes to bed, things go great. And by greeat, I mean that they get attacked by the ugliest spiders I’ve ever seen. Like...they have beards? Why do the spiders have beards? Bilbo seems to agree, because he kills the fuck out of them, frees his envenomated comrades, and scares the other spiders away.

Then, as soon as that’s done, the goddamn dwarves get captured by a group of forest elves. And think less Jackson elves, and more Gremlins from Gremlins. These are Wood-Elves, and they take the Dwarves prisoner after Thoring won’t tell them that they’re doing on their journey. Bilbo seems to think that this is out of greed, and the desire not to share the treasure. And yeah, he’s probably right.

Anyway, Bilbo makes it out without being captured, and uses his ring of invisibility-and-definitely-not-an-evil-demon-king to smuggle them out in barrels of mead delivered by men from the nearby Lake-Town. That’s where the group is headed, incidentally, and they float down the river, where the men of Lake-Town greet them with open arms. Led by Bard (John Stephenson), the group stays there for two weeks, and then heads out...to Lonely Mountain.

They make their way up the mountain, but can’t seem to find the secret door. However, luckily for them, Bilbo’s an avid birdwatcher, and recognizes the rare but fortuitous Prophecy Thrush (Turdeus exmachinus), and as the sun sets, the door reveals itself. 

However, the Dwarves are all, well...somewhat cards here, and they basically force Bilbo to go in for them, and procure something of worth from the dragon. And as Bilbo goes in, I gotta admit that I’m excited to see Smaug. I genuinely loved him in the Jackson films, so I can’t wait to see him here. Bilbo (and the thrush) go in, and...

There is is! It’s Smaug (Richard Boone), and...he has the face of a cat-wolf-thing? I, uh...yeah? We’re doing with this? I mean...it’s weird, right? I mean, it’s also interesting, I’ll grant you that, but it is still a little weird. Maybe I’ll get used to it

Smaug asks who Bilbo is, and he responds with made-up titles that accurately describe his journey, and the unexpected things that he’s done on it. It’s still one of my favorite speeches by Bilbo in the story, but that’s nothing compared to Smaug’s speech.

I kill where I wish and none dare resist. I laid low the warriors of old and their like is not in the world today. Then I was but young and tender. Now I am old and strong, strong strong. Thief in the Shadows!" he gloated. "My armour is like tenfold shields, my teeth are swords, my claws spears, the shock of my tail a thunderbolt, my wings a hurricane, and my breath death!"

I fucking love it. I love it SO MUCH. And the movie makes good on this speech. Shortens it, yeah, but still does it justice. I might not like his face, but his voice is all right. I do think Cumberbatch was better, though.

Bilbo tries to discover a weakness of the dragon’s but Smaug is confident about his strength, and shows him his underbelly, where Bilbo discovers a single missing scale there. He points this out, then decides to reveal himself at the last second. He leaves with a silver goblet, and Smaug goes after him with fire. However, he still escapes, albeit a little on fire.

But hey, that ain’t too bad, right? Not like Smaug’s gonna get pissed or anything and attack him by flying out of the mountain, right?

Ah. Well, shit. Oh, and also, Smaug is under the impression that Bilbo was one of the Lake-Town guys, and he goes to Lake-Town to get his revenge on the town for stealing the goblet from him. Yeah. Good times.

And that’s it for Part 2! Stay tuned for Part 3!

#the hobbit #the hobbit 1977 #j.r.r. tolkien #rankin-bass #rankin boss #orson bean #bilbo baggins #hans conried #thorin oakenshield #john huston #gandalf #otto preminger #cyril ritchard #brother theodore #gollum #don messick #paul frees #glenn yarborough #fantasy march #user365 #365 movie challenge #365 movies 365 days #365 Days 365 Movies #365 movies a year

[thotinshield]

for the nsfw prompt: sex in rivendell

The moment they step foot into Rivendell, Bilbo marveled at the beauty of the elven city. It is so… different from the Shire and the towns of the Men that they had passed through. Far better than the wilderness that the dwarves had led him into thus far, especially considering the fact that the elves offer beds for them to sleep in, rather than the hard rock of the ground that they’d spent the last few weeks sleeping on. Not that Bilbo would say that to their faces. He was fairly certain if he were to say anything that put the elves above the dwarves, Thorin might very well just leave him there in Rivendell. 

Which wasn’t necessarily bad. Was it? 

Only Bilbo hadn’t run down Bagshot Row and out of the Shire so he could be here in Rivendell. There was something deep inside of him that felt pulled to Thorin Oakenshield, to… to the dwarves and their cause. That was it. 

It had nothing to do with the dark blue eyes that had occupied his dreams that night, or the deep timbre of their leader’s voice that had left him uncomfortable in his bed. 

Nope. 

Bilbo wandered away after the gracious dinner that Elrond had provided them. For once in the past few weeks, Bilbo felt like he was almost a proper hobbit again, having eaten a meal that wasn’t made on the road, though it could have done to have any kind of meat. Really. Elves were a rather odd bunch, Bilbo had concluded, but no stranger than the dwarves or men. 

He supposed any other race might find him just as odd. 

Wandering down the many levels of Rivendell, Bilbo paused to look over the valley. It was truly beautiful, though nothing quite like the rolling hills of the Shire. It almost felt distant, in some way, like an untouchable beauty, which was not how the Shire was. Everything in the Shire was touchable, grown by their own hands and cultivated for their comfort. He couldn’t feel that in Rivendell, at least not in the way that the Shire spoke to him. 

Bilbo’s ears perked slightly, the quiet sound of low voices carrying over the wind. He turned his head, trying to seek out the source of them in the night air. He was hardly an eavesdropper, really, but it was years of living in Hobbiton that had he had been unwittingly trained to listen on what might be a morsel of gossip. 

As he listened, he realized he could place the voices quite easily. Gandalf and Lord Elrond. They were talking about Thorin, Bilbo realized. 

The soft scuffing sound of a boot against the stairs caught Bilbo’s attention and he glanced over his shoulder, to find Thorin lingering a step or two above Bilbo. His face was hardening, and Bilbo realize that he had heard the conversation drifting through the night to them. 

“Thorin!” Bilbo exclaimed, twisting around and clasping his hands together. Great. Bilbo was certain that the dwarf king didn’t actually like him, barely tolerated him, really, but this was not a good situation to be in. 

Slowly, Thorin’s eyes moved to Bilbo’s face, his mouth twisting up oddly. He looked surprised, and Bilbo wondered if Thorin had even seen him. Right, probably not. 

“Master Baggins,” Thorin said, his eyes locked in on Bilbo. 

“Were you… admiring the valley? It’s quite beautiful at night…” 

Thorin snorted, glancing away from Bilbo and then down the steps. He looked tense, as if he were about to charge down the stairs and confront the elven lord. Bilbo should probably do something, he thought, lest they end up in a worse situation than they already were. 

“I suppose you’ve seen many more sights than this,” Bilbo said, hoping to draw Thorin’s attention back. It seemed to work, at least in the meantime. “But I’ve only been in the Shire, and there is a whole world out there that I haven’t seen.”

“Yet you’ve decided this is a beautiful sight,” Thorin said, his voice disdainful as he looked out over the valley. But, despite his words and manner, Bilbo thought he could see something almost soft around the edges of Thorin’s eyes. 

“Well I have nothing to compare it to you,” Bilbo said, crossly. 

“You will when we arrive in Erebor,” Thorin said, turning and making his way down the stairs. Bilbo followed quickly, hoping that he wouldn’t have to try and physically stop Thorin from approaching Elrond and Gandalf. But Thorin came to a stop at a bench, glancing at Bilbo before he sat down. 

It was a great relief to Bilbo. 

So much that he felt at ease plopping himself down next to Thorin on the bench. Here, they could still see a good deal of the valley, and they were surrounded by a rather nice garden. It almost felt homey to Bilbo. 

He missed his own garden. 

“Tell me about Erebor,” Bilbo said, crossing his legs and leaning back to look up at the stars above them. They were no more brilliant than they were in the Shire, but he felt a warmth wash over him. Some things were the same, no matter where you went, and that was a relief to know. “Do you… did you truly live in the mountain? All the time? Did you see the stars before you left Erebor?”

Bilbo snapped his mouth shut, shame creeping up on him. It was not a question he should ask, not at all, but it had slipped free without him being able to stop it. 

He did not expect the soft chuckle that came from the dwarf seated next to him. Bilbo stared at him, his eyes wide, as he took in the small smile creeping onto Thorin’s face, his eyes crinkling at the side in amusement. 

Something Bilbo had not seen before, nor known that Thorin was capable of. 

“When I was young… very young, before I was allowed to leave Erebor…” Thorin’s voice was soft, and it felt far away, as if he were not there with Bilbo at all. “I do not how to describe Erebor to you, master Baggins. It was my home for many years before it was ripped away. Erebor is far more grand than anything you can imagine. To answer your question, no, dwarves do not remain in the mountain day after day or night after night, we do venture out,” he cast a glance at Bilbo. “I was not allowed that. As a prince, I had to remain in the mountain. For a very long time.”

Bilbo remained quiet as Thorin looked up at the stars, a fond smile curling onto his lips. 

“My mother brought me into the caves below Erebor..” Thorin’s fingers curled into his thighs, and he closed his eyes. Suddenly, Bilbo felt very much like he was not supposed to be here, sharing this with the dwarf king. “There were these… I suppose they are best called fireflies in your tongue. There were fireflies in the caves, along the ceiling of the cave. I … thought they were the stars.”

The small laugh of surprise that bubbled up in Bilbo’s throat could not be stopped, and he bit his lip as Thorin looked over at him. 

“I had heard much of the outside world, but I had not seen any of it.” Thorin released his hold on his thighs, drawing his eyes up to the sky for a moment. “I do understand the draw of the… beauty that the elves seem to hold in their valleys and forests, but I assure you, it is not the most beautiful sight you will find in the world.”

No, Bilbo thought, Thorin was quite right about that. 

Because sitting there, watching the king in the moonlight, Bilbo couldn’t imagine there was anything more enticing, more beautiful than him. 

Perhaps he stared too long, for just then, Thorin met his gaze before Bilbo could look away, or focus his gaze somewhere else less innocuous. Thorin’s eyes seemed always intense, his gaze burning, as if he were solely focused on whatever it was that he was looking at. Having that gaze focused on himself, even for a few seconds, it was… a bit much to handle. 

Bilbo dropped his eyes down, to Thorin’s shoulder, which was far less intimidating to look at. At the least, it didn’t look back at him. 

“Well, I… I should go,” Bilbo said, standing abruptly. He didn’t look at Thorin, tucking his hands behind himself as he glanced up for one last moment to take in the stars. “It’s getting rather late.”

“I shall escort you there,” Thorin said, standing up. Bilbo tensed slightly but nodded, glancing to the side so that he could see the dwarf, but not enough that he might have to make eye contact with that smoldering gaze. 

He could make it. 

As soon as he was in his room, he could think about those intense blue eyes all he wanted without worrying about it. Thorin wouldn’t know, and what he didn’t know… that couldn’t hurt him, could it? 

“We will not be staying in Rivendell long,” Thorin said as they walked down the halls, towards the rooms that the dwarves had been clustered into. “I fear that if we stay too long, we may not be as welcome to leave.”

“What do you mean?” Bilbo frowned. 

“Greater powers may not deem our quest wise.”

“They cannot prevent you from leaving!” Bilbo said, his eyebrows drawing together in confusion. 

“Elves do as they please,” Thorin muttered, and finally, Bilbo looked over at the dwarf king. 

His face was darker, his mouth set in a firm line. Bilbo did not have much time to ponder on his face, as Thorin drew to a stop outside one of the rooms. His or Bilbo’s? Bilbo wasn’t sure. It wasn’t like they had really been assigned exact rooms. 

“Then I suppose we shouldn’t linger too long in Rivendell,” Bilbo said, meeting Thorin’s eyes. 

“Right you are,” Thorin said, “good night, Master Baggins.”

“Wait, Thorin…”

Bilbo bit his lip as those intense eyes turned back to him. “Would you like to… ahem, I mean, I think we’re both in need of a drink?”

“Are you inviting me in?” Thorin asked, his mouth curling into a coy smile. 

Bilbo’s heart thudded in his chest. 

“Yes.” He said, his eyes locked on Thorin’s still. There was a heat growing in them as Thorin looked at him. For a moment, Bilbo wondered if Thorin would laugh at him, or look at him in disgust, at what was likely a rather bold invitation. 

“I could do for a drink,” Thorin said, his smile widening sharply. 

If Bilbo were a lesser hobbit, he might have tucked tail and run, but he couldn’t help the surprised zing of pleasure in his gut as Thorin looked at him like that. He couldn’t imagine taking it back now. Not now. 

Two steps in, Bilbo turned around to ask what Thorin would like to drink, exactly, because the elves had quite a lot of wine. His words were stopped dead in their track of leaving his mouth. The heat in Thorin’s eyes had only grown, far more intense than Bilbo had ever seen. He watched Thorin’s hand on the door as it shut sharply, for a moment dragging Bilbo’s attention away from the dwarf and to the door before his eyes snapped back to Thorin’s face. 

“Am I to assume that your invitation for a drink was a pretense, master Baggins?”

“I…”

“Do you wish for my company?” 

“I would not have invited you if I did not–”

The feeling of Thorin’s chapped lips against his stilled the rest of Bilbo’s words. There was no tentativeness to the way Thorin kissed, no hesitation. His mouth moved against Bilbo’s encouragingly, until Bilbo could no longer hold himself back. His hands found purchase in Thorin’s hair as he opened his mouth to let the dwarf’s tongue find its way in. 

Thorin’s hand cupped Bilbo’s jaw, tilting Bilbo’s head slightly and deepening the kiss as he went, sliding his tongue against Bilbo’s. It caused a moan to escape from the back of Bilbo’s throat, and one of his hand scrambling to find better purchase than Thorin’s hair. He fisted Thorin’s shirt, pressing as close as he could, pushing himself up on his toes. 

He felt the timbre of Thorin’s chuckle reverberate between them. The feeling only left a tingle chasing down his spine as he kissed Thorin harder, nipping his lip when Thorin relented for a second. 

“Ah,” Thorin let out a breathless noise, sliding his hand from Bilbo’s jaw to gently grip Bilbo’s curls. “Peace, I intend to take you to bed, master Baggins, if you would let me..”

Bilbo met Thorin’s eyes, relaxing his grip on the dwarf just enough that he could try to think straight. “You better.”

Another warming chuckle spread between them as Thorin raised an eyebrow, his reddened lips still curling wide in a warm smile. Before Bilbo could stop him, the dwarf had scooped Bilbo up in his arms. Bilbo let out a small noise of surprise, smacking Thorin’s arm. 

“Excuse me! I am not some… some child or maiden that you can just sweep up!” 

Nevermind that the strength the dwarf had just displayed had made Bilbo’s hardening cock immediately harden, instead of the slow approach that it had been on to that state. 

“I am well aware of that,” Thorin murmured in Bilbo’s ear, nipping the edge of his earlobe. Bilbo shivered and Thorin chuckled again, pausing at the edge of the bed. “And I shall keep that in mind…”

“You… you…” Bilbo stuttered, swallowing down the arousal building up in his abdomen. “Put me down.” 

“If that is what you desire,” Thorin said, stooping down slightly and settling Bilbo down neatly on the bed. He did not linger nor let a second pass before he was on top of Bilbo, pressing between Bilbo’s legs and kissing him fiercely again. 

The bulk of Thorin between Bilbo’s legs was more than enticing, the feel of his weight against Bilbo. Bilbo couldn’t help sliding a hand up Thorin’s arm, before he interlocked his arms around the dwarf’s neck. Otherwise he might not be able to control himself, considering the feeling of Thorin’s thighs under Bilbo’s legs. 

Bilbo’s breath hitched as Thorin pressed closer, his hips meeting Thorin’s unintentionally. Thorin gasped against Bilbo’s mouth, as their clothed cocks ground together. Bilbo moaned, hooking a leg around Thorin’s hip and trying to bring them together again. It was a feeling he’d be willing to chase, especially with Thorin’s mouth against his, and his tongue exploring Bilbo’s mouth. 

Not a way he’d mind losing himself. 

Still, he wasn’t expecting for Thorin’s hand to grip his leg and break the kiss, his breath heavy as he looked down at Bilbo. 

“Much as I’d be just as pleased to lose myself like this with you,” Thorin murmured, his voice husky as his eyes darted down for a moment. “I would very much like to take advantage of the comfort of having a bed with you.”

“Oh,” Bilbo swallowed, and his eyes followed the direction of Thorin’s gaze, to where their cocks were pressed together. 

“If you are amicable,” Thorin continued, drawing his hand away from his grip on Bilbo’s leg to slip somewhere within his jacket, and then producing a vial of some kind. But Bilbo could easily guess the contents within. 

“Yes,” Bilbo choked out, his cheeks heating up. 

It was almost embarrassing, but he was pent up, and he desperately wanted Thorin. The fact that the dwarf returned that sentiment, even somewhat, it only added to the growing tightness in the pit of his stomach. 

Thorin grinned, sitting back just enough that he could undress. Bilbo struggled to do the same, if only because the sight of Thorin baring himself was something else entirely. Not that Bilbo hadn’t seen Thorin bare before, given the time they’d spent on the road, but it was different here, in the privacy of a bedroom. No other dwarves to distract Bilbo or to shame him for taking his fill of Thorin in. His eyes trailed down the dwarf’s chest, to where his cock stood, plump and larger than any other cock Bilbo had ever been this close to. Of course, he’d only ever been with other hobbits, so that was not a surprise, but even so… 

Bilbo did wonder if he’d even be able to wrap one hand around Thorin’s cock, or if he’d require both of his hands. 

“I’ll take that as approval,” Thorin said, lowly, in Bilbo’s ear, as he brushed a kiss behind it. Bilbo shivered. “But it is unfair to have me bare as I am and you still here in your clothing, master Baggins.” 

Bilbo let out a small, indignant huff, pushing himself up on his elbows and quickly loosing himself of his own clothes. There was hardly any reason to act coy about it, now. Thorin’s eyes followed the path of his hands, his eyes darkening as he took in the sight of Bilbo’s cock. 

“You must have seen finer cocks than m-”

His head thumped back against the pillows, his hands scrambling against the sheets as he tried to steady himself. The warmth of Thorin’s mouth enveloped him, the sudden sensation nearly causing Bilbo to lose himself there and then. He felt the flick of Thorin’s tongue against the head of his cock but he couldn’t quite raise his head to look, even though he very much wished he could. What a sight Thorin probably made, bent over Bilbo, his mouth wrapped arond Bilbo’s cock and taking him deeper. 

“Fuck,” Bilbo gasped, biting his lip as Thorin bobbed his head and sucked his cock slowly. 

His hips rocked up intentionally, and Bilbo might have been more worried about Thorin, if it weren’t for the fact that the dwarf moaned around him when his cock pushed deeper in his mouth. 

This would be fine too, Bilbo thought dimly. He’d be just fine if he came apart under Thorin’s mouth. 

Then, there was the press of a finger against his ass, and Bilbo whimpered, biting his lip harder as he felt the entrance of Thorn’s finger into him. It was certainly thicker than Bilbo’s own fingers, or any other hobbit’s fingers. He squirmed slightly, but at the least, Thorin had oiled his fingers and it wasn’t as harsh as it might have been if they had no oil at all. 

Not that Bilbo would have let Thorin do this if there hadn’t been something to ease the way, that was for certain. 

Before too long, before Bilbo might embarrassingly spill himself into Thorin’s mouth, he felt the cool air against his cock as the dwarf let Bilbo slide from his mouth slowly. Thorin had two fingers inside Bilbo, thrusting them slowly, in a gentle manner that Bilbo hadn’t been certain Thorin was capable of up until this point. Each thrust of his fingers Bilbo couldn’t help the moans that came out of his mouth, small and quiet, but there. 

“I will go slow,” Thorin said, drawing his fingers out gently and pushing Bilbo’s thighs open and settling between them. “You will tell me if I hurt you.”

“Yes, just please,” Bilbo begged, tugging on Thorin’s arm and meeting his eyes. Thorin groaned and pressed closer, one hand on Bilbo’s thigh as he wrapped his fingers around his own cock. The sight of that alone was more than enough to rile Bilbo up more and he let out a demanding whine. 

Thorin chuckled, though there was something behind it that told Bilbo the dwarf was just as desperate for this as he was. 

Thorin’s hand on his thigh squeezed gently, as Thorin guided his cock into Bilbo. The blunt head of it almost felt too much, but the preparation of Thorin’s fingers before eased its way enough that it didn’t hurt. Bilbo grabbed at Thorin’s arm, his breath coming out in small gasps as he felt the size of Thorin’s cock inside him. Seeing the size of it was one thing, but feeling it, feeling the way it filled him, that left Bilbo dizzy. 

When Thorin stopped moving, Bilbo shifted slightly, meeting the dwarf’s eyes. His pupils were pinpoint, dark as he moved his hand from Bilbo’s thigh to join his other hand at either side of Bilbo’s head. 

“You’re..” Bilbo’s breath hitched and then was pushed out him immediately when Thorin rolled his hips, pushing his cock into Bilbo as deep as it would go. One of Bilbo’s hands covered his mouth, his eyes closing. 

“No,” Thorin growled, voice deep in his throat and Bilbo felt a hand pull his hand away from his mouth. “I wish to hear you.”

Bilbo nodded, meeting Thorin’s eyes as the dwarf pulled out almost entirely before he thrust back into Bilbo. Bilbo’s hand scrambling, grabbing at Thorin’s back and clinging to him as the dwarf started fucking him, hard, into the bed. 

If this is what Thorin Oakenshield considered slow, Bilbo had to wonder what he might consider fast. 

Thorin pressed a kiss behind Bilbo’s ear, pinning Bilbo’s hand above his hand as he fucked him. Bilbo writhed under Thorin, gasping softly and crying out his name when Thorin’s cock hit the bundle of nerves deep inside of him. Before he could cry out again, Bilbo was seeing stars. He could feel the knot inside of him tightening before it released, and he spasmed against Thorin. 

A second later, Bilbo felt a warmth spreading inside his ass, and he realized the noise that he was hearing above him was Thorin. He didn’t recognize the words, and it took a moment for Bilbo to realize that it wasn’t his ears betraying him, but that Thorin was gasping in Khzudul as he came inside of Bilbo. 

Bilbo let his eyes fall shut, breathing hard as he felt the weight above him shift. Thorin could likely crush if he were to lay on top of Bilbo, but the dwarf had the courtesy of pulling out of Bilbo before he collapsed next to the hobbit. 

There were more conversation to be had, another time, Bilbo thought, but he couldn’t muster the energy now to question what had just occurred between them. 

#bagginshieldisreal #bagginshield #pan writes shit #hi yes this is in fact like 3.7k idk whats wrong with me but its like 2k just pre smut shit and then the rest is smut im so sorry LMFAO

[avery-foxglove]

FrodoSam Moments in The Lord of the Rings (Books): The Fellowship of the Ring

 I would definitely say that The Two Towers and The Return of the King have more tender (and romantic) moments, but The Fellowship is the first volume, so:

Note: This is mostly for my own pure interest and reference. 

  1.

He [Frodo] looked at Sam Gamgee, and discovered that Sam was watching him.

‘Well, Sam!’ he said. ‘What about it? I am leaving the Shire as soon as ever I can - in fact I have made up my mind now not even to wait a day at Crickhollow, if it can be helped.’

‘Very good, sir!’

‘You still mean to come with me?’

‘I do.’

‘It is going to be very dangerous, Sam. It is already dangerous. Most likely neither of us will come back.’

‘If you don’t come back, sir, then I shan’t, that’s certain,’ said Sam. ‘Don’t you leave him! they said to me. Leave him! I said. I never mean to. I am going with him, if he climbs to the Moon, and if any of those Black Rulers try to stop him, they’ll have Sam Gamgee to reckon with, I said. They laughed.’

‘Who are they, and what are you talking about?’

‘The Elves, sir. We had some talk last night; and they seemed to know you were going away, so I didn’t see the use of denying it. Wonderful folk, Elves, sir! Wonderful!’

‘They are,’ said Frodo. ‘Do you like them still, now you have had a closer view?’

‘They seem a bit above my likes and dislikes, so to speak,’ answered Sam slowly. ‘It don’t seem to matter what I think about them. They are quite different from what I expected - so old and young, and so gay and sad, as it were.’

Frodo looked at Sam rather startled, half expecting to see some outward sign of the odd change that seemed to have come over him. It did not sound like the voice of the old Sam Gamgee that he thought he knew. But it looked like the old Sam Gamgee sitting there, except that his face was unusually thoughtful.

 2.

‘Where did you come by that, Sam?' asked Pippin. 'I've never heard those words before.'

Sam muttered something inaudible.

 'It's out of his own head, of course,' said Frodo. 'I am learning a lot about Sam Gamgee on this journey. First he was a conspirator, now he's a jester. He'll end up by becoming a wizard - or a warrior!'

'I hope not,' said Sam. 'I don't want to be neither!'

    3.

At that moment there was a knock on the door, and Sam came in. He ran to Frodo and took his left hand, awkwardly and shyly. He stroked it gently and then he blushed and turned hastily away.

`Hullo, Sam!' said Frodo.

`It's warm!' said Sam. `Meaning your hand, Mr. Frodo. It has felt so cold through the long nights. But glory and trumpets!' he cried, turning round again with shining eyes and dancing on the floor. 'It's fine to see you up and yourself again, sir! Gandalf asked me to come and see if you were ready to come down, and I thought he was joking.'

'I am ready,' said Frodo. 'Let's go and look for the rest of the party!'

`I can take you to them, sir,' said Sam. `It's a big house this, and very peculiar. Always a bit more to discover, and no knowing what you'll find round a corner. And Elves, sir! Elves here, and Elves there! Some like kings, terrible and splendid; and some as merry as children. And the music and the singing-not that I have had the time or the heart for much listening since we got here. But I'm getting to know some of the ways of the place.'

'I know what you have been doing, Sam,' said Frodo, taking his arm. 'But you shall be merry tonight, and listen to your heart's content. Come on, guide me round the corners!'

  4. 

`But you won't send him off alone surely, Master?' cried Sam, unable to contain himself any longer, and jumping up from the corner where he had been quietly sitting on the floor.

`No indeed!' said Elrond, turning towards him with a smile. `You at least shall go with him. It is hardly possible to separate you from him, even when he is summoned to a secret council and you are not.'

Sam sat down, blushing and muttering. `A nice pickle we have landed ourselves in, Mr. Frodo!' he said, shaking his head.

   5.

Elrond summoned the hobbits to him. He looked gravely at Frodo. 'The time has come,' he said. `If the Ring is to set out, it must go soon. But those who go with it must not count on their errand being aided by war or force. They must pass into the domain of the Enemy far from aid. Do you still hold to your word, Frodo, that you will be the Ring-bearer?'

'I do,' said Frodo. `I will go with Sam.'

   6.

Frodo felt something seize him by the ankle, and he fell with a cry. Bill the pony gave a wild neigh of fear, and turned tail and dashed away along the lakeside into the darkness. Sam leaped after him, and then hearing Frodo's cry he ran back again, weeping and cursing. The others swung round and saw the waters of the lake seething, as if a host of snakes were swimming up from the southern end.

Out from the water a long sinuous tentacle had crawled; it was pale-green and luminous and wet. Its fingered end had hold of Frodo's foot and was dragging him into the water. Sam on his knees was now slashing at it with a knife.

The arm let go of Frodo, and Sam pulled him away, crying out for help. Twenty other arms came rippling out. The dark water boiled, and there was a hideous stench.

`Into the gateway! Up the stairs! Quick! ' shouted Gandalf leaping back. Rousing them from the horror that seemed to have rooted all but Sam to the ground where they stood, he drove them forward.

   7.

`Whoa, Sam Gamgee! ' he said aloud. `Your legs are too short, so use your head! Let me see now! Boromir isn't lying, that's not his way; but he hasn't told us everything. Something scared Mr. Frodo badly. He screwed himself up to the point, sudden. He made up his mind at last to go. Where to? Off East. Not without Sam? Yes, without even his Sam. That's hard, cruel hard.'

Sam passed his hand over his eyes, brushing away the tears. 'Steady, Gamgee! ' he said. `Think, if you can! He can't fly across rivers, and he can't jump waterfalls. He's got no gear. So, he's got to get back to the boats. Back to the boats! Back to the boats, Sam, like lightning! '

Sam turned and bolted back down the path. He fell and cut his knees. Up he got and ran on. He came to the edge of the lawn of Parth Galen by the shore, where the boats were drawn up out of the water. No one was there. There seemed to be cries in the woods behind, but he did not heed them. He stood gazing for a moment: stock-still, gaping. A boat was sliding down the bank all by itself. With a shout Sam raced across the grass. The boat slipped into the water.

`Coming, Mr. Frodo! Coming! ' called Sam, and flung himself from the bank, clutching at the departing boat. He missed it by a yard. With a cry and a splash he fell face downward into deep swift water. Gurgling he went under, and the River closed over his curly head.

An exclamation of dismay came from the empty boat. A paddle swirled and the boat put about. Frodo was just in time to grasp Sam by the hair as he came up, bubbling and struggling. Fear was staring in his round brown eyes.

`Up you come, Sam my lad! ' said Frodo. `Now take my hand! '

`Save me, Mr. Frodo! ' gasped Sam. `I'm drownded. I can't see your hand.'

`Here it is. Don't pinch, lad! I won't let you go. Tread water and don't flounder, or you'll upset the boat. There now, get hold of the side, and let me use the paddle!’

With a few strokes Frodo brought the boat back to the bank. and Sam was able to scramble out, wet as a water-rat. Frodo took off the Ring and stepped ashore again.

`Of all the confounded nuisances you are the worst, Sam! ' he said.

'Oh, Mr. Frodo, that's hard! ' said Sam shivering. `That's hard, trying to go without me and all. If I hadn't a guessed right, where would you be now? '

`Safely on my way.'

`Safely! ' said Sam. `All alone and without me to help you? I couldn't have a borne it, it'd have been the death of me.'

'It would be the death of you to come with me, Sam,' said Frodo, “and I could not have borne that.'

`Not as certain as being left behind,' said Sam.

`But I am going to Mordor.'

`I know that well enough, Mr. Frodo. Of course, you are. And I'm coming with you.'

`Now, Sam,' said Frodo, `don't hinder me! The others will be coming back at any minute. If they catch me here. I shall have to argue and explain, and I shall never have the heart or the chance to get off. But I must go at once. It's the only way.'

 `Of course it is,' answered Sam. 'But not alone. I'm coming too, or neither of us isn't going. I'll knock holes in all the boats first.'

Frodo actually laughed. A sudden warmth and gladness touched his heart. `Leave one! 'he said. `We'll need it. But you can't come like this without your gear or food or anything.'

'Just hold on a moment, and I'll get my stuff!' cried Sam eagerly. 'It's all ready. I thought we should be off today.' He rushed to the camping place, fished out his pack from the pile where Frodo had laid it when he emptied the boat of his companions' goods, grabbed a spare blanket and some extra packages of food, and ran back.

`So all my plan is spoilt! ' said Frodo. `It is no good trying to escape you. But I'm glad, Sam. I cannot tell you how glad. Come along! It is plain that we were meant to go together.”

#tolkien #the lord of the rings #fellowship of the ring #lord of the rings #lotr #frodo baggins #sam gamgee #samwise gamgee #frosam #frodosam #books #book quotes #ships #f/s #frodo baggins/sam gamgee #frodo baggins/samwise gamgee #frodo #frosam 1