#lotr imagines

[shirefantasies]

I loved both of your new updates, with the Hobbit characters and Fellowship reacting to you calling them pretty. How do you imagine the elves replying when you call them pretty? Such as Lindir, Arwen, Haldir, Elrond and Figwit?

Lindir and Figwit are one and the same, that’s why there's only one :) here’s how I think it would go:

The Elves’ Reaction to You Calling Them Pretty

Gets sappy: Arwen, Lindir, Legolas

Shock: Elrond, Haldir, Feren

No you: Galadriel, Thranduil

Slowly, widely grinning, Arwen’s gaze falls from yours slightly, only to slide back. “You flatter me,” she says, voice lowering to a near-whisper as she steps closer, “especially for one who knows my heart is in your hands.” Flustered is the only word you could use to describe the look that crosses Lindir’s face, especially as you reach over to tuck a strand of his long dark hair behind his ear. A smile creeps across it, oh yes, but what can he do besides respond that no word that he knows can begin his description, no song he could write, would do you justice half as proper as he should like. Legolas bursts into a big, bashful smile before you even finish your sentence, reaching to take your hand and hold it against his chest. At first he says nothing, his dark eyes simply swimming in yours before he speaks. "I know not what I did to deserve such a love as you have given me, but I hope I do it again and again."

Taken aback, Elrond nearly leans away from your touch before seemingly thinking better of it, pale skin of his cheek resuming contact with your palm and bringing a rush of warmth with it. "You see beauty in the strangest of places," he chuckles, "in all things and every face you look upon. If only all of Middle-Earth could see as you do." And with that, his lips are on yours. Haldir tilts his head in- confusion? before his eyes are searching the gaze upon them, finding nothing but sincerity swimming in the beautiful color of your eyes. A smile breaks across his face, small but deeply affectionate, as he shakes his golden head. "I know not what to say beyond thanking the Valar for the gift of your love." You almost burst into a laugh at the way Feren's big brown eyes widen, turning like saucers as if you'd shifted to some unheard tongue mid-sentence. "Yes, you," you reiterate, reaching up to caress his face, the gorgeous arch of his cheekbone, "do I not make it apparent enough all the beauty I see in you?" Flushing, Feren simply shakes his head and leans into your touch before thinking better of it, turning instead to take your hand and press a kiss to the back of it. "Not at all. I was simply thinking of all the ways I should be returning the favor."

Amusement plays upon Galadriel's lips, loving glow overtaking her at your compliment, tinging her cheeks and glittering in her fair blue eyes. “Would that you could see through my eyes, meleth nîn,” she chuckles, reaching up to trace a pale hand along your hair, down the rise of your cheekbone, and to gently brush your lips with her thumb. Each motion a silent affirmation that has your heart singing as you grant her the kiss she asks for. “Well, aren’t you charming?” Thranduil teases, but all you can see in his eyes is pure, brimming love. “These are not your words, love, but mine.” His smile is wide, welcoming as the arms that pull you against the king’s back, elegant lips pecking your neck, then your cheek. “Your sincerity is a gift to this world, though. You say what you think whether it is what I wish or not. I suppose we can say I got lucky this time, did I not? As I do every day I have you by my side.”

Taglist: @lokilover476 @fuckyoumakeart @kilibaggins @mossthebogwitch @ibabblealot @stormchaser819 @pirate-lord-of-narnia @datglutengoblin @letmelickyoureyeballs @mossyskinn | Reply/Message/Ask to join 🥰

#lord of the rings #lotr #the hobbit #lotr imagines #the hobbit imagines #lotr x reader #the hobbit x reader #arwen #lindir #legolas #elrond #haldir #feren #galadriel #thranduil #ask #anon #requested

[lovefairymina]

Glorfindel! My love! Just because I am on my period does not mean you must carry me everywhere! No I do not need to lay in bed all day!

“So don’t carry you around? Leave you alone? Give you space? Go away? That is what you want me to do?” he whines as he slowly and dramatically walks out of your room, pausing every second to turn around and sigh with fake tears in his eyes. “I’m leaving now. I’m walking out the door. Farewell.”

#♡{sweet.hugs} ~ {glorfindel} #glorfindel #glorfindel imagine #glorfindel x you #glorfindel x y/n #house of the golden flower #imladris #rivendell #lotr imagines #silm imagines #middle earth imagine

[notinusesworld]

Hello! I'm so happy to see that you followed me back so I hope it's alright if I send in a request. Could you please write something about Aragorn falling in love with a charming domestic witch, like a witch who's really sweet and sassy and has a big garden. Maybe he stops at her cottage seeking refuge and finds out she's a witch and they fall in love. I'm picturing Sophie from Howls Moving Castle mixed with a traditional witch of the woods type figure. Thank you so so much!

Also would you be interested in doing a matchup trade at some point? It's totally fine if not, I just figured I'd ask. Take care of yourself sweetie!

the match up is here if anyone is interested! thank you for the request, requests are always okay 🫡

Witch F!Reader x Aragorn

synopsis: this is about what a relationship would look like between a witch and the future king of godor, this takes place before the events of lotr. also just for story sake, the kind of witchcraft is mainly healing and potions. this is in the “how, when, what, where and why” style of head cannons

warnings: none! it is written with the reader being a female in mind but the only direct reference to that is the word “woman” being used, otherwise it could be considered gn

requests are open and encouraged!

How you met:

The ranger was out wandering the lands as he usually was, however he strayed particularly far this time and was a while away from the safety of the settlements of his people. A particularly strong storm fell that day, he remembered seeing your cottage as he ventured through the forest and decided to test his luck there to shelter himself from the rain.

He was welcomed, but you kept a close eye on him. You started up the fire at the fireplace for him to dry off, offering him towels and a change of clothes. He was shivering, so you offered him tea. Once he drank it he felt his body warm up, he could tell there was something special about it, which is when you revealed to him that your a witch and that the tea was a special tea that warms up the cold.

You told him about your practices and showed him out the window all the rare and valuable plants you grow for your potions, as well as the delicious and flavourful vegetables. He took interest in your vast book collection and knowledge. He was fascinated and you quickly became friends. Before parting ways you gave him a gift of some healing creams which speeds up the natural healing process, as well as giving him a protection jar.

When he realised he fell in love, where he confessed and why he realised:

He started visiting more and more as time went on, your hospitality, sweet nature and wisdom drew him in from the beginning, but as he got to know you more the charm and quirks of your personality made him become enamoured with you. He helped you with small tasks such as tidying up and helping you harvest your garden. Even going on fetch quests for things you needed from far off places. He would speak of you a lot to the people back at home and those he met on his journeys, talking about how caring and beautiful you were, even remarking that you’re an “incredible woman”

He realised it was love when he got particularly injured fighting orcs and came to you for help. As he watched you care for him, even with your snide but playful comments, he could only stare at you as you fussed over him, healing his wounds with ease, bandaging the particularly bad ones and effortlessly sewing the holes in his clothes while he was still wearing them.

“You really can be careless can’t you?” You tease as you put everything away after finishing. He suddenly stood up, taking both of your hands “Will you marry me?”

For once in your life you was left speechless for a moment, “You haven’t even courted me yet, Aragorn.” You chuckle. He is completely serious however, “I do not wish to continue for another moment without knowing that you are mine” is something that he said during the conversation.

What it’s like being in a relationship with him:

He’s extremely loyal and caring, he’s also extremely thoughtful. He always brings back gifts from places he’s visited, books, materials, seeds, cool looking bottles are just a few things he’s brought back for you. He’s a very mature lover and always makes you a priority, second only to his duties and promises. He is also extremely understanding and compassionate, making him perfect to go to when you need comfort.

He kisses you a lot, especially the top of your head and hands. Kissing is really the only PDA he’s comfortable with. Otherwise everything else is behind closed doors, he’s not usually the one to initiate cuddles but he happily partakes in them whenever you want to. His main love language is words of affirmation, that’s what he’s best at giving and what he likes to receive the most. But as he knows, all healthy relationships need a balance of both, so he shows all of them to you, especially the ones you prefer.

#lord of the rings #lotr #lotr x reader #lotr x y/n #lotr x you #lotr requests #aragorn #lotr aragorn #aragorn x reader #aragorn x you #aragorn x y/n #aragorn head cannons #lotr x oc #lotr imagines #lotr headcanons #lotr fandom

[nomelwelloy]

Legolas drabble / imagine | Legolas x reader

☆彡

After a long period away from each other, he engulfs you in his arms in the firmest, warmest of hugs, his face buried in the crook of your neck and arms clasped tightly around your waist, breathing in your scent as he falls into rhythm with your heartbeat once more.

"Meleth nin," he sighs into your skin with a relief as though the days without you has had him in the throes. "You’re finally home."

You laugh, surprised at his reaction yet secretly delighted to know your absence has had such an effect, but you know yourself to be no better, having clutched his memento every night just to be able to fall asleep. "I’m home, I’m home and I’ve missed you so, my home," you quietly confess.

Legolas’s hands travel along your arm and to your face, cradling your jaw as his fingertips brush along your cheek. He leans in just a breath’s away, nose bumping against yours. "My starlight, it’s been dark without you," he whispers in elven tongue, and it elicits a shy chuckle from you.

"You exaggerate," you say, despite yourself. Indeed, it had been challenging getting used to being alone again for so long, having grown used to Legolas’s constant presence by your side. Being by your lonesome felt particularly peculiar, as though unable to feel the bite of a snowstorm despite smothered in its chill. But arriving home to Legolas was like experiencing the first warm rays of sun after a long dark winter. Your senses thawed, you grasp him as tightly, unable to articulate your own feelings, but Legolas makes up for where you lack, his words carrying both his and your deepest sentiments.

"I feel whole again," his lips graze your forehead, your eyes, your nose and finally claims your lips.

Your heart sings and you follow his lead in a dance you both know well, slow and earnest, savouring the missed taste and presence of the other. Legolas holds you tighter to him, finding your hand to intertwine with his as his other slides against the back of your neck, gently coaxing your head back to deepen the kiss. He’s zealous in pursuing your touch, leaning into you when you cup his jaw, almost breaking the kiss just so he can rest his head fully in the heat of your palm.

A soft, contented sigh escapes him, and a fleeting thought crosses your mind; perhaps it isn’t so bad to go on long missions more often, if it meant coming home to something like this.

☆彡

a/n: im back with another!! Thank you for the love and wonderful remarks on the previous drabble <33 it is very encouraging to know that my writings are enjoyed ;;

this one was my first ever Legolas drabble that I’d left in my drafts for forever... It was originally pure word vomit and fluff but i polished it a bit and hopefully you guys enjoyed it! Thank you for reading, and if you like this, feel free to drop a reblog / follow (but be forewarned, I write like,, anything so.. expect the unexpected) but it is all very much appreciated .｡.:*☆ ( ´ ▽ ` )ﾉ

#diabetic tooth rotting plaque inducing fluff #it’s dramatic as hell but #i was feeling pure fluff and this is what happened!!! #sorry not sorry!!! #only sorry for typos.. pretend they don’t exist #legolas #legolas imagines #legolas x reader #legolas x you #lotr imagines #legolas drabbles #lotr #nomelwelloy

[shrubdaddy]

elucidative | l.greenleaf

↳ 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: elucidative |. /ih-loo-si-deyt/ | verb | to make lucid especially by explanation or analysis | y/n is only a little dumb

⇢ 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: legolas x reader

⇢ 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: fluff

⇢ 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: none

⇢ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 2.1k

a/n: Hiii - Sorry I've been MIA - work has been a bit more hectic and I've been having a hard time finding time to write! I could not stop thinking about the Bridgerton scene with Charlotte and George. Lightly inspired by @reality-warp 'Rávamë’s Bane Trilogy', quite literally one of my all-time fave fics and authors in this fandom and is a literal queen in world and character building so check out her fics if you haven't already!

copyright © | please do not repost my work.

“Manwë’s breath, how much higher can this wall get?”

Reaching for yet another tendril of the vines climbing up the wall, you attempt to climb higher up the stone wall.

It was a precarious situation — one in which you did not expect to be but were not entirely surprised to find yourself in.

You scaled the stone walls attempting to reach the top of the wall to escape yet another suitor. With flowing sleeves laced with snagged threads and leaves woven into your hair, you don’t quite know how long you’ve been attempting your half-scattered escape plan. At this moment, all you knew was that you’d been in this dreaded courtyard for over an hour and you would not be waiting another minute to be trapped and shackled for the next “prince” to come around.

As a ward of Lord Glorfindel, you were of course expected to adhere to the life of a lady in every way possible. You’ve studied every subject, attended every lesson from etiquette and mannerisms to reading and writing in Khuzdul, and attended each and every dreadful social event your father has encouraged.

Feeling your grip falter yet again, you stumble backward and glare at the very metaphoric yet also a very real wall in front of you.

You have always strived to be the perfect daughter in every way possible. However, in regard to love and courtship, you refuse to follow the ancient, decrepit tradition. Between the many years of dodging conversations and offers of marriage, you’ve reached way past the age of courtship, spending many years avoiding each and every suitor thrown your way.

Rather than bubbling with excitement, you felt the fear of the unknown settle in. Having so much to live for and not enough time to experience, you think of your time spent with the twins and the Rangers of the North — time spent traveling, exploring, and living.

You remember joining the twins and meeting Aragorn… meeting Legolas. He was an elven ranger you befriended through Aragorn. He was strong and sturdy, and for a moment you thought you were in love. The camp up North was a place where not many talked of their past but where they all focused on the present. It was a simple life but it was the life you were able to create for yourself.

Lost in the thoughts of the slow spiral of your sanity, you didn’t hear the footsteps coming up behind you as you reached yet again for the closest, protruding stone on the wall —

“What in the world are you doing?”

Without turning to even see who it is, you let go of one hand waving your intruding guest away.

“Please mind your own business, sir. You can escort yourself out — possibly, somewhere that is anywhere but here.”

You continue your ascent without a second thought but slipped down the wall as stone slowly tore up your hands. Stepping back, you place your hands on your hips and take a look at the growing annoyance in front of you. This stupid wall.

You hear an exasperated sigh behind you and felt someone lightly, grab your shoulder, pulling you from behind.

“Excuse me, sir. But you will unhand or you risk losing your… Legolas?”

Turning around, you were shocked by the familiar face of someone you were completely and utterly infatuated with over the past couple of years. Paralyzed and flustered, you couldn’t help but notice how clean and ethereal — you have never seen him this clean before; his muddied boots were somehow clean and the ragged pants you were so used to was exchanged for a less holey look. Somehow these fit even better. You feel your eyes gaze up but froze — you were staring too long.

“Lose my what?” he asked with a little smug grin.

“Nothing! Absolutely nothing. On the contrary, you can keep everything… It was nothing…” you rambled as you quickly turned around.

You hear him step a bit closer, coming behind you on your side to examine the wall you were so desperately climbing less than a second ago.

“What in Arda are you doing here, Y/n?” he said with his curious, blue eyes. Though a few feet away, just his presence causes your mind to go in a scramble.

“Me? What are you doing here?” you exasperated. Fiddling with your hands, you begin pacing back and forth, pretending to examine every bit of the wall, looking anywhere but him.

Look anywhere but his eyes, Y/n. That is how we’ll survive his cursed beauty.

“You are climbing a wall. If anyone should be questioned, it is you,” he bit back.

You quickly move your shoulder to release his grip and turn around.

“First of all, I live here. Second of all, please do mind your business, Legolas. I am quite a bit … oof … I’m quite a bit busy here. and I’m running out of time.”

Stepping towards the wall, you begin to attempt to climb yet again. If anything, it was to break free from his distracting grip on your body. Ignoring the growing warmth on your cheeks, you couldn’t help but notice how large and warm his hand was and how one touch made you feel like hot honey dripping down your body.

Shaking off the startling moment, you were determined to leave. And even he could not stop you.

“What in the world are you doing?”

“Nothing.”

“You’re doing something.”

“I am not”

“Yes… you quite obviously are are.”

“I am n o t.”

“Yes… you are,” he said firmly.

Relenting — you turn back around to face him. Beautiful face and all. You notice how his head is turned slightly down, his eyebrows furrowing just the slightest beginnings of a small smirk staring down at you.

“Fine,” you relented. “If you must know, I am trying to figure out the best way to climb over this disgustingly high wall and escape this dreaded meeting with this so-called ‘prince.’”

“You’re trying to what? With who? Whatever for?”

“Well, the first thing — hmph …” you grunt as you turn back around to attempt to climb for the fifth time in a row. “The first thing is that my dearest father has been parading me around to different suitors, a Lord here, a Duke there — and now, um, it’s apparently another ‘prince’.”

You take a step back because rather than focusing on climbing, you feel a sense of frustration overcome you. The situation of late has finally dug its claws into you... feeling a greater weight on your shoulder than you have originally led yourself to believe. You feel him standing behind you — the burning intensity of his stare on your back.

“No one has spoken of him… no one has spoken of this so-called Prince of Mirkwood?” You continued, “What if he has the personality of a gremlin and the looks of a troll? The Valar knows the little patience I have for men.”

“Gremlins and trolls aside — does what he looks he really matters to you? ” he asked.

“No… Of course not. It’s the not knowing and the fact that I do not know him or his heart that I do not like.

You take a step back to take a look once more at the wall in front of you. Glaring with all of your might, in hopes that your internal rage can burst a whole through these dreaded walls.

“Y/n —you must know... “ Legolas began.

Your eyes run through all the nooks and cranny’s vine-covered stone beast, ignoring Legolas’s words for only a second. There it is. A protruding stone just two feet away from the top. You found one last way you have yet to try.

“Thank the Valar! I think I found a way.”

You walk towards the wall once again, mapping out the new path of vines and protruding stones.

“I think if I can just reach this stone I can lift myself up! If you lift me just a little, I believe I can reach that vine and use these stones to climb up,” you said excitedly.”

“You want me to lift you up… so that you may… escape?”

“Yes, obviously. Did you not hear of threatening the gremlin-troll prince? Please, Legolas.”

“Your father will know that you are missing? The twins have just arrived as well?”

“Those are tomorrow’s problems, Legolas. The prince will be coming today,” you whined.

As you begin your ascent, you feel your foot slipping from the stone. Despite this, you stretched your hand above your head to grab the vine. As you reached, you feel the stone beneath your foot crumble and in a matter of seconds you find yourself falling.

“Lego—”

“Y/n,” he cuts you off. “I have no intention of helping you escape.”

Standing a little too close, you can feel the warmth emanating from his body. As you gaze up to his face, you see he’s wearing an emerald green tunic, soft and silky — something far nicer than the typical garb you always see him in.

“And why not? There is little time to —.”

Your finally glance up to look him in the eyes and —

“You’re wearing a crown,” you blankly stated.

Confused, you oh-so-slowly begin to piece the puzzle together.

���Yes, I am wearing crown,” a small grin appearing on his smugged face.

“Where in the world did you get a crown?”

“It was given to me,” he said as he looked around feigning boredom.

“By who?!” you retort.

“My father.”

“Your father? What does— is he like a king?”

“He is a king,” he said frankly.

“Which makes you a — “ you slowly piece the information together.

“A prince? Yes, a gremlin-troll prince to be exact,” he retorts with now a full grin and staring down at you.

“And you said nothing?” You frantically exclaimed.

“I figured you’d realize at some point,” he chuckled.

You stood there reflecting on all your life decisions at once. Every conversation, every hidden glance. He was a prince.

“I thought it was common knowledge and that you knew of my title,” he said quietly. “I apologize for not disclaiming it sooner.”

“So if what you’re saying is true…” you teased. “You just assume everyone thinks of you as royalty? That’s quite the assumption”

“Y/n, you know I did not mean it like that,” he groaned.

With a little giggle, you stepped away from him and asked “Should I call you, sir?”

“…Y/n, what?”

“Oh my, I’ve never bowed.” Your voice shifts into worry, “Is this grounds for beheading?”

“Y/n, no.”

“I should bow.”

“No— you should not.”

“I’ll bow.”

“Y/n — stop.”

“Please sir, I am merely a lowly peasant. Have mercy, your highness,” you exclaimed as you lower your head and drop into the deepest curtsy.

As he attempts to stop you, he reaches for your arm hoping to put an end to your jester.

As you back away and dodge, you look at him, batting your eyelashes, and cry “My liege, spare me from this punishment I only wish to live.”

Ears turning red with a desperate voice, he begs “Y/n, please.”

As you step back once more, he’s quicker this time and grabs your arm, pulling you close. your chest crushed against his, he drops one of his hands to your waist and the other to your back. You were so close you felt his breath caress your face. As you look up, you find him staring intently at you.

As you stare at each other, you couldn’t help but break into giggles over the preposterous situation. As you begin to giggle, he looks away trying to hold in his laughter, only to also laugh at the situation.

It felt nice — to feel free and silly, if only for a moment.

As both your laughter calms down, he looks back down at you asked, ”So what do you think of the gremlin-troll prince?”

“Nothing too horrid, he’s actually quite dashing,” you teased.

“Dashing, hmm?” he chuckled.

Unaware of everything around you, you were both startled to hear the courtyard doors open with footsteps following. Jumping from each other's arms, you separated a good distance away only for you to see your father and Elrond turn into the corner section you were standing in.

“Oh, good. You’ve met!”

#legolas imagine #legolas imagines #legolas one shot #legolas one shots #legolas x reader #legolas reader insert #legolas fic #legolas fics #lotr imagines #lotr fic #lotr fanfic #lord of the rings #lord of the rings fanfic #lord of the rings fic #lord of the rings imagine #lord of the rings imagines #lotr imagine #lotr x reader #lord of the rings x reader #legolas #legolas x you #legolas x y/n #legolas fanfic

[theship-thewalrus]

omgomg you write for lotr i thought this Fandom was dead on this website and everyone else :') anyway, might i ask you to write aragorn and legolas (separate) getting injured and reader takes care of the wounds? They aren't together yet but the air is filled with ~tension~ I hope it's not too much to ask for xx

Hi anon! The Rings of Power has ignited my love for LOTR once more. I hope this is what you were looking for :)

legolas x gn!reader & aragorn x gn!reader (separate)

pretty much the ask :)

word count: 900 words reading time: about 5 minutes warnings: injury, blood

legolas

He felt so stupid for getting hurt in the first place, if only he had thought quicker, and moved faster, the blade would've been nowhere near him. But instead, he was too slow and the blade's edge was able to slice his arm. It was not a deep cut, though it did hurt and produce blood. Despite himself not being worried about such a wound, you seemed to be immensely worried. Hovered over him like a bee would to a flower. It was strange as he had never seen you so worried over anyone else's injuries before.

"I'm fine, the cut is not deep." Legolas attempted to shrug off your worry, by him treating it as nothing but a scratch he hopes to calm you. "It does not matter! It is a cut nonetheless, one that has drawn blood!" Came your worried and frantic reply as you take his arm in your hands. A warm sensation floods through Legolas's body as you take his pale arm into your hands, holding him with the softness and care one would with a small animal. His pale cheeks flushed a light pink as he was unable to say anything, his mind honing in on your hand on him.

Under his intense gaze, you flatter slightly, yet are filled with enough determination to clean and tend to his wound. Clearly, without some sort of help, he would simply allow it to fester, such a thought brought a frown to your face. Quietly you worked on his wound, cleaning and wrapping it to ensure it would not grow infected while on the journey.

You worked in silence as you both sat there faces flushed red, it was not long until you were done. Having wrapped his wound tightly, the bandage was already slowly beginning to darken due to the blood. You would have to change it again in a few hours. "There, it should be good until I am able to get more supplies to help it." Letting go of his arm you shuffled back slightly, wanting to give him a bit of space.

"Thank you," he mutters softly as the two of you simply look at each other for a few moments, taking the other in. You were the one to break the silence and eye contact, casting your eyes to the side. "You've got to be more careful. I don't think I have enough supplies if you get hurt again." Your voice was soft and pleading, as though he had any control about whether or not he was injured during a battle. But Legolas did not scold you for your words, instead smiling softly. "I'll try, just for you."

aragorn

It was not often Aragorn got injured in battle, though even the best of warriors can get hurt. The blade that pierced his side managed to make a deep cut but avoided hitting anything vital. In a way, it was a blessing and a curse. He was used to treating his own wounds having travelled alone for years, it was surprising to see you fret over him. Your eyes fixated on the dark spot on his shirt that was steadily growing. Your hands hover over the spot on his shirt, unsure where to start to help him effectively.

"By the Gods, are you alright? Here let me help, quickly off with your shirt." Your words came off rushed and panicked as you began shuffling through the contents of your bag looking for certain items to help. But Aragorn did not move to do as you asked, simply watching you for a moment. "I am able to tend to myself, do not worry yourself." Came his calm reply, as though his side was not injured and blood not soaking his shirt. It amazed you how calm he could be despite the state he was in.

"I know you can look after yourself, but you don't have to." Your kind voice begins, grasping the edge of his shirt and preparing to lift it up to get a better look at the wound. Though you were not given the chance as Aragorn's hands came a rested on top of yours, gently stopping you. Your head snaps up to look at him in surprise, wondering why he was trying to stop you when it was clear he needed help. Yet he just looked down at you with a small smile, at the moment completely forgetting his wound. "I am fine, do not waste your time on me when the others need your help more."

A scoff left your lips, eyes hardening a little as you looked up at him, you knew you had to be a bit harsher to him for him to get it through his head that he needed help. But as you gaze up at his soft eyes all you found was sincerity and kindness, making it so hard trying to be mad at him. The pair of you simply stared at each other for a few moments, you trying to continue to be upset and stern while he was simply calm and content.

"Fine, you can look at the wound." comes Aragorn's reply after a few moments of staring. A smile graced your face as you lifted his shirt and began treating his wound.

#aragorn x reader #aragon imagines #legolas x reader #legolas imagines #legolas greenleaf x reader #lotr x reader #lotr imagines #lord of the rings x reader #lord of the rings imagines

[lillianofliterature]

Hi Lillian! If your preferences are still open, could I please request a preference for what the LOTR Fellowship think of a modern woman appearing in Middle Earth and developing feelings for her? Thank you!

LOTR PREFERENCES || 3/?

a/n: hi, love! thank you for your request! I’m delighted to do it! 💚 Sorry it took so long to get back to you, I’ve been working on this on and off since it was sent in to be sure I wrote a good amount for every character (although my favoritism is palpable, oops). I would get through 1-2 characters and then my brain would shut off for a while. Very convenient of it. ¯\_( ◉ 3 ◉ )_/¯

DO NOT REPOST MY WORK.

if gifs are not sourced, they were found ages ago on Google and have sat dormant in my gallery since. if they’re yours, lmk and I will credit or remove them!

some of my preferences are written like imagines, some are written like headcanons. this particular request fits the headcanon format best!

each character varies in length (I mean, some of them have A LOT and I hope you don’t mind, I just like to include everything I think of for headcanons!) and some ideas or descriptors may have been repeated a few times due to there being so many of them! On this particular request, it was so hard to make everyone’s unique because they’re all so kind and good? I feel like everyone would just dote on you and take care of you in their own way? I hope they’re unique enough!

I do my best to keep them gender-neutral for everyone! <3

warnings: repetitive ideas I’M SORRY I TRIED I PROMISE, some injuries and light gore mentioned, mental health issues implied (depression, anxiety, etc.)

(preferences below the cut-off)

| how they would react to developing feelings for someone from the modern world

aragorn | word count: 1.3k+

Aragorn was no stranger to forces of magic and otherworldly power he didn't quite understand, as he was exposed to such truths all of his life, so he wasn't as untrusting or suspicious of you as some of the other folks of Middle-Earth might be to someone claiming to be from another realm of a far advanced make and age. 

He wouldn't develop feelings for you right away, he's the slow and steady sort who must get to know and become familiar with someone before even entertaining fonder, sweeter thoughts, much less full-fledged feelings. But you did have that mysterious air about you, being a stranger to his world, the era and its customs, and he always wished to understand you from the moment Elrond had introduced you to each other. You were intriguing, to say the least.

To be fair, you were slow in trusting people completely, just as he was, so your path in developing feelings for each other was equally stubborn and forgiving. He believed your story, of course, about how you'd come from another land that was quite different from his own, about the strange humming you'd heard one night and the stinging you felt in your toes and fingertips, about how you'd ended up in a forest somehow and had followed the Ford of Bruinen into Rivendell. 

He was the first person to truly believe you and not just try to assuage your questions and anxieties passively. He made a point to validate that you weren't crazy or dreaming it up; he did everything he could to help you feel grounded and understood. Aragorn was humble enough to admit he didn't understand everything—and that he especially didn't have to understand something in order for it to be true. 

At Elrond's request (and largely due to his own curiosity), he'd agreed to help you learn about this strange new world and its history and customs. Why he'd been tasked above any other elf of intelligence in Rivendell to be your guide and tutor, he hadn't the faintest idea, except for the fact that perhaps since he traveled more than those who dwelled comfortably in the elven lord's domain, his experiences might be of more value than knowledge gleaned solely from literature and speeches.

He was quizzical about the strange things you would do, the habits you admitted were hard to break. Such as how you would rub your knuckles against the wall by every door frame when you entered a dark room, presumably looking for "light switches''—and the way you searched for "buttons and knobs" when you entered a kitchen and asked if there was such a thing resembling a "refrigerator" or an "icebox" in this world. Whatever phantom switches and objects you were after, he found it amusing to see you chastise yourself for looking for things that weren't there in Middle-Earth. (But he also realized it must be difficult to enter a realm where nothing is the same and everything is new to you, even down to the most basic aspects of daily living.)

There was also the way you were afraid to drink from rivers and skeptical of sleeping on the ground and accepting food from people you hardly knew and constantly asking what it was you were eating or if it was cooked all the way through. He knew there was some wisdom to caution, but your caution seemed extreme, which made him wonder what sort of world you hailed from that food and drink could not be trusted and one would not be accustomed to natural resources and living off the earth.

He never once made you feel silly or cowardly, though, for whatever you discovered or worried about that made you feel squeamish. He merely taught you his own ways with generous patience; he taught you to hunt and forage, how to protect yourself from insects and parasites with herbs and salves, to trim your hair with shears, and use a specific type of tree branch to clean your teeth (you couldn't just pick up any stick on the forest floor, you know), and how eucalyptus was especially soothing for the scalp when washing your hair (so long as the water wasn't too cold when you rinsed, which you learned the hard way after bathing in the river after he concocted something resembling shampoo for you).

He'd been the one to hold you that night on your travels across lands (an idea Elrond had had to get you used to the world you'd been brought into, teaching you with firsthand exposure or something of the sort) that you'd finally broken down into tears after weeks of trying to make sense of your predicament. He'd sang to you in his elvish tongue until you'd fallen asleep in his arms under the warmth of his furs and winter coat. You missed your family, your friends, and some of the beauties and conveniences of your own land. People and things he couldn't replace. He did his best to calm your aching spirit. He knew what it was to miss people, to ache for them, to reach out and not find them reaching back, to not feel your mother's warmth any longer–no matter how much you longed for it.

It was that kind of sweetness, how in touch he was with his emotions and how readily he extended his compassion, that made you realize how special of a man he was. 

And after months of helping you along in Middle-Earth and watching you blossom and grow with the changing seasons, essentially becoming part of his world, Aragorn began to feel deeply towards you. Not just his protective instinct that he'd developed for you since he'd been your confidante and ally since your arrival (he once compared you to a fawn just learning to walk in the afterbirth or a little bunny hidden away in a burrow that he had been tasked with - and obliged - to help grow and adapt) (all until you asked him to stop comparing you to wild animals), but also these funny little bouts of fluttering in his stomach and an innate need to be near you. The reprieve your mere presence gave him. The pure happiness your eagerness to learn and understand him and his world offered him. 

It would be difficult for him to act on those feelings at first because the last thing he would want to do is add more pressure or discomfort to your already convoluted burdens. But when he did, after weeks of pining for you and feeling himself smile (momentarily free of any heavy thoughts or worries of his own that often tugged that smile flat) after your many failed attempts to mimic or poke fun at him for his quiet, mysterious "Strider" persona.

Luckily, Aragorn was not alone in his feelings, and his only regret was not telling you sooner.

Neither of you knew if your returning home was a possibility or not, nor especially how such a thing could even be done, but he hoped that the day would never come when you would disappear from his life. It wasn't that he wished you never to return home to your loved ones and your comforts, but that he needed closure of his own. He needed warning in order to prepare himself to lose you if he was fated to–not that any amount of preparation can teach someone how to nobly lose their soulmate. Or perhaps he needed at least enough preparation to follow you into that world if he was ever given the chance. 

And if you were to stay in Middle-Earth until the end of your days, he vowed to help you in whatever endeavors you faced, as long as he could be by your side for every one of them. He would gladly go on teaching, guiding, and needing you.

boromir | word count: 1.8k+

Boromir was definitely skeptical of you, not only because of your sudden appearance in his father's city, but also because of your explanations to their inquiries of who you were, where you were from, and how you had come to enter the steward's palace without having alerted any guards or centremen were never quite believable. It seemed as though your answers just brought on more questions, which only made his father's temperament even more fragile than normal.

For his father's sake, Boromir would take over the situation, reprieving him of any responsibility of having to deal with the "nuisance of a wench" that Denethor, Steward of Gondor, had so politely referred to you when you didn't admit to his accusations of your being a spy from Edoras or some sort of conspiring assassin having come to usurp his throne (because you weren't one and in light of your very sudden and confusing teleportation into an entirely different realm, couldn't care less about some rickety old man on some throne you didn't even know about, much less want)

(which you told Boromir to his face once he'd come to visit you in your holding cell to interrogate you further).

Your relationship was a rocky start, to say the least. There wasn't torture involved or anything, you were kept fed and hydrated from within your cell, and the cell itself was much more quaint living space than the stuff of dungeons. The door even had a lock on the inside to ensure your privacy as an individual, although there were guards placed outside the door and the windows were too narrow and too high to even see out of, much less clamber out of to escape further out into a world you didn't understand. In all actuality, as the hours wore on and no one came to remove your fingernails or dunk you in a barrel of icy water until you spoke, you began to realize that the steward's son–Boromir, you think it was–had most likely placed you in the guest or servant's quarters. There was no way that this room, furnished with a single bed, a vanity, a well-stocked bookshelf, a wardrobe, and even a small washroom was in any way dungeon quality. Where was the hay all over the floor? The rusty cell bars? Mice scurrying over your feet? Mushrooms and mold growing in damp corners?

So, had he lied to his father? Gone against his orders to let you rot in a cell for your lying impotence and instead given you room and board?

As the next day dawned and Borormir came to speak with you privately, he was an entirely different person than what you'd expected from your brief encounter in the throne room. Out from his father's scrutinous and demanding gaze, Borormir was much more agreeable and even somewhat patient. He wasn't quick to condemn you as a liar or some manipulative traitor, although he obviously still did suspect it. He was commanding, but he wasn't dominating.

In short, romance wasn't even on the map for either of you due to the circumstances of your meeting. No one falls in love with the man interrogating them for days on end about losing everything they ever had in an instant, about walking into an old alleyway back home to escape the rain, only to find yourself walking into the halls of some grouchy old steward who accuses you of treason and attempted murder. And no one falls in love with the person skulking through their father's halls unannounced and dishing out insults to that said father and kingdom at first glance, wounding their pride and dignity in one fell swoop.

In fact, he'd even chastised you for speaking ill of his father.

"You mean the man who just called me a nuisance? And a wench?"

Your pension for being very...communicative despite speaking to the son of the steward shocked him to say the least. Boromir wasn't used to being spoken to with such reignless freedom—especially not from strangers under lock and key.

He apologized for Denethor's crass and demeaning insults. You wouldn't have accepted his apology if it hadn't been for the forlorn sincerity in the man's eyes when he explained that his father was a changed man–and not for the better. Regardless, he asked that you respect the steward and his position of power, but even more so, respect that he is his father and he couldn't tolerate ill words being spoken about him.

You agreed to speak no such insults in his presence out of respect for Boromir in return for the patience and hospitality he'd shown you, but you made no vow to be tolerable of Denethor himself. He found that agreeable.

As the questions wore on and your answers remained much the same, Boromir realized that this story you kept explaining, about the alleyway and the rain, the smell of the bakery across the street, the soggy socks in your shoes, it was obviously what you believed–even if he wasn't sure if he could believe it yet. It was hard for Boromir to believe without seeing for himself. It's ye old "I believe that you believe it happened," two hairs shy of calling you crazy sort of response.

That is, until his brother gets word of the new visitor a few days after your arrival. Faramir was his name. He remembered how strange that passageway deep in the stone walls of the palace near the eastern wing had always made him feel when he passed through it. And when he heard of your predicament, he actually seemed rather aware of some sort of power or legend that once spoke of beings traveling between realms in some rare instances. Apparently, Boromir was much more trusting of his little brother. He took Faramir at his word, especially once shown several tomes and scrolls from across the ages of rare but unexplainable instances such as yours.

With Faramir's help (whom you found much more agreeable than his suspicious and impossible older brother), Boromir actually believed in what had happened to you. Not just that you thought it was true, but that such strange things do happen, things even the bravest warriors from great kingdoms cannot explain away.

When it was revealed that it did make factual sense, given your odd apparel that day you'd arrived and the baggy "sweatshirt" you'd refused to let them confiscate, the difference in your accent and dialect, the contrast to your world and Middle-Earth, how very little you understood about his kingdom and the way of basic living, you were then given a proper room in the guest housing just outside the palace courts, a few blocks from the courtyard and stories above the inner city.

You were viewed as an intellectual advantage (or at least that was how he explained it to his father in order for it to make sense to the paranoid steward to keep you nearby), given access to the libraries and studies under Boromir's supervision, and were assigned servants to help you learn to bathe without running water, how to brush your teeth without paste and a brush, how to lather your hair with only water and sweet-smelling oils and rinse within a basin, and a myriad of other daily changes you needed to adapt to. When you refused assistance beyond being taught how to live and function in his world, Boromir found it almost insulting–but it made him curious.

He'd never gone a day without servants, almost like shadows ushering about him, unseen and avoided beyond what they were needed for. He appreciated his people and had great pride for them, but your point of view (from someone of the working class) helped humble the entitled nobility woven into his countenance.

As time passed, Boromir found that it was he who took you for walks throughout the palace courtyard rather than silent guards or obedient servants under order; it was he who excitedly showed you his prized steeds and explained each of their individual personalities, who insisted that you venture into every reach of Gondor until you are as familiar with its villages and rivers as you are with the backs of your hands.

It was his idea, then, to show you parts of Gondor you'd never seen. Forests, plains, meadows, farms, and mountain passes, even the distant horizon of a vast beach shore toward the south. All of it grand, all of it foreign, all of it breathtaking. It was there, on horseback and walking through his father's kingdom, that you really saw who Boromir was. Free of armor and duties, he was just a man desperately in love with his country and his people.

He was flawed, yes. Greatly so. But then again, everyone bears flaws as much as any other person. Some are just skilled at hiding them from the world. Others use them to their advantage. But Boromir–Boromir just seemed like a boy some days when he was beyond the walls of Minas Tirith. The tours he gave you of his beloved land, free of expectation and any sense of obligation, were what allowed you to see everything differently, everything way back to the beginning, to months ago when you'd stumbled through those passageways between royal chambers.

And evidently, Boromir had started to realize much the same for himself. He wasn't one to take ladies for strolls about courtyards and offer them wildflowers that he nearly trampled under his boot; it wasn't like him to look forward to the days when he could spend his time riding into the villages and forests with company rather than being alone; it wasn't like Boromir, son of Denethor, heir to the stewardship of Gondor, to find himself lost in laughter as he tried to teach you how to start a fire without a "lighter" contraption that you were used to and watching you fail miserably into the evening hours and cursing under your breath with risqué words he'd never heard. It wasn't like him to feel such relief, to feel so light and free of his father's burdens.

But love comes when you aren't looking for it, and it often brings people together who would never have noticed one another in any other circumstance.

So maybe that's why you were brought to Middle-Earth, to Gondor, to the halls of his very home, out of all the places and realms you might've ended up in. Whatever might've happened, it must have been fate, or some destiny tied to love. For Boromir, the greatest warrior of his father's vast army, to find himself believing in miracles and accepting the truth of the unknown and uncertain–it could be little else but love. For the first time in his life, not knowing was enough, as long as it meant having you.

faramir | word count: 1k+

Your meeting would definitely be in a forest somewhere, perhaps in Gondor or somewhere you can't even pronounce when he tells you. He's with his rangers, scouting and securing the borders of his country–but truly, his purpose for being all the way out there was to be far away from his father to drown out his disdain and favoritism.

The way you would meet would provide him with comical relief somehow, I just think that's something that would give your relationship such a different beginning than all the other people in his life. Not bound by blood or duty, just victims of circumstance, although he wouldn't want to say he was any sort of victim in having the privilege of meeting you.

He would be knelt by the river, scooping crisp water with his hands and sipping it as his men are some ways down the bank, offering him a moment of silence and reprieve from his own duties. His men, the rangers he lead as their captain, were more than just his "Inferiors" (as his father put it), they were his friends and most trusted advisors. They weren't sworn to serve Faramir, son of Denethor, younger brother to the great warrior Boromir, only because duty and station required it of them. They were both fond and loyal to him, to his humility and wisdom, to his feeling nature. His strength was different but no less honorable. So when their captain wandered off alone, they knew him well enough to give him space.

Although, that's not exactly what he would get.

One moment, you were on the hiking trail you'd taken near your local park for the scenic terrain and perfect reading spots when suddenly the trail had twisted in a way it hadn't before until it had completely disappeared from beneath you in the rapidly appearing overgrowth. Now in a forest you didn't recognize, with panic and anxiety pulsing through your body, running back the way you'd come from in desperate search of the trail you'd been vigilant not to wander from.

That's when Faramir hears the rustling in the forest behind him, he stands as he shakes the water from his hands and poises his bow, knowing his men would never rush him unexpectedly while in the wild (and they weren't even in that direction as far as he knew from where he left them). Before the poor man can react, your bodies collide as you appear out of the thicket and slam into him. I mean, you absolutely take this man out.

You'd both crash in a heap by the river, sliding down the bank and into the shallow edges of the freezing water. Your comfy tennis shoes? Sopping wet. His cloak? Might as well hang it on the laundry line next to the linens.

You'd scramble to your feet, still rushing from adrenaline, while he'd take his time getting up as he rubbed the sore spots you'd brandished him with. With one look in your direction, he'd do a once over and a double-take, completely befuddled by your apparel and whatever reflective material your tight leggings were made of. Not to mention the strange device in your hand with a long cord dangling from its end and the sack of books that had tumbled into the damp dirt at the river's edge.

Once he regained his footing with an adjustment of his jaw and posture, he'd be bombarded with your frantic questions of where you were, where the trailhead was, if his "phone" device had any cell power (whatever that meant, he hadn't a clue) or if he was a "LARPer" based on his apparel (which, mind you, he had several questions about your very strange clothing of choice as well). Simply put, you were quite confused by one another.

Much akin to how he would be of aid in Boromir's version, Faramir would be adamant in his studies and knowledge of many mysteries and forces in his world, from long ages past. He was quite the scholar, given his neglected childhood. He would at first be skeptical of your explanation, but it wouldn't take him as long as his brother to believe you. Faramir could sense things about people, he had that sort of discernment that helped him know whether people were honest or insincere. And you were honest.

He would be very empathetic to your situation. He would offer himself as a guide and a protector, teaching you gradually how to arm yourself in the wild during the long trek back to his home of Minas Tirith. Once there, you would be kept out of his father's reach and safely somewhere you could be comfortable and adjust to the changes of his world.

Apart from being a very mature aide to you in your time of crisis, Faramir would be as excited as a kid in a sweet shop. Your presence in Middle-Earth, the circumstances which brought you to him, were absolutely incredible. It was as if his whole life sort of made sense—all the hours spent with his head in the clouds and books upon books flitting through his hands as a young boy and into adulthood, it had all prepared him for you. This fantastical miracle that came hurling at him by some stream in the eastern forests and defied any and every law of science and physics he'd ever been tutored about.

Over time, once his feelings matured into something more than honorable duty (and giddy curiosity), he'd be absolutely devoted to you. He would spend his life trying to find the answers you needed, even if it meant finding a way for you to get home, despite how much he wanted you to remain in his life. He would cross seas and brave mountains to seek out others who knew of anything like your situation, he would risk himself to keep you safe. 

Faramir would do absolutely anything for you, at all times, with the utmost sincerity and adoration from the deepest parts of himself. He would vow himself to you and leave you no room for doubt or insecurity.

eomer | word count: 800+

Eomer, Lord of the Mark and future King of Rohan, would definitely place duty above curiosity and emotion when first meeting a stranger claiming to hail from another much different world completely unrelated to Middle-Earth in its entirety. Albeit a respectful and honorable man, he would have his suspicions about whether or not your predicament was at all possible. And if possible—that was a big if—he would doubt your sincerity (if it had really happened or not). He's the type to need proof and evidence so he can work out how to respond and execute a plan of action. He wasn't one to meddle with ancient powers and mysterious magic—he was a man of law and combat.

What you don't know for the first few weeks, though, is that there's a reason behind his doubt and scrutiny of you, his blatant distrust and sheer callousness. He'd seen what the dark powers of wizards and warlords had done to his uncle Theoden. He'd witnessed firsthand how it had torn his family apart, stricken with grief and remorse. His sister had been plagued and stalked by one such man who was an ally to such dark arts. Magic and powerful entities had never brought Eomer or his people anything good.

Eventually, when you learn about all of this, you're more compassionate to his point of view and not so frustrated with him for being so darn suspicious all of the time.

However, despite his reservations about your situation, that would not affect his efforts in helping you (after you've been ruled out as a threat). You would never be treated like a prisoner or an enemy, nor as any sort of asset or property. You were simply a traveler, a person in need, and eventually a friend to Rohan and the people that dwelled within Edoras.

Something you noticed early on was his absolute devotion to his family. Not just his lineage or his people, not solely to the crown that still sat upon his uncle's head. His sister was his closest friend (and she soon became yours as well) and there was a bond between them you had never born witness to in your disconnected world. The loyalty and affection he showed freely were quickly one of the traits of his character that attracted you to him, as well as his consistent sincerity—there was never a word uttered from his lips that he did not mean or a promise that he failed to keep. He spoke with bluntness plainly, you never had to solve any riddles or secrets. There were never any tiresome games. He just was. The "once loyal, always loyal" sort of person.

And as someone used to a world full of people more concerned with themselves rather than those they claim to love, it's refreshing.

Because of Eomer's need for proof and evidence to be able to believe and understand things that were presented to him, your relationship was also rocky at the start. Yes, you knew he was trustworthy and you felt safe under his care as his sister showed you the ways of their people and clothed you in their garments. You knew no harm would ever come to you as long as Eomer kept watch over your wellbeing. But there was the disconnect between you where emotions and souls come into play–a need for him to have faith in your story, a need to be trusted above reason and common sense.

That would be the great battle throughout your developing feelings for each other; to understand and accept each other and your very different origins. It would be that discourse and the eventual change of heart that would convince Eomer he was in love with the one person who had appeared wandering aimlessly across the Riddermark. And when he was able to accept the heavy truth that you spoke—that not only were the myriad of powers and mystics of his world very real and prevalent, but there was another realm far beyond his own—it would not only prepare him for the throne he would one day succeed, but open his heart to the reality of love itself. That there is more beyond honor and duty, beyond loyalty; there is love, devotion of the heart, and the binding of one soul to another.

Truly, your crossing into Middle-Earth was more than mere chance. It was the dealings of fate, the weaving of a tapestry that spans beyond lands and stars, that brings union and contentedness to those it touches.

To Eomer, you would become more than a dangerous risk or a misunderstanding or a wearied traveler between lands. You would be his life source in a more intimate way than even what he had always known with his family–the love of one's life is one incomparable to all else. His fierce loyalty that you'd observed since your first meeting had become an unsplintering shield. You were now bonded by that same sort of unwavering devotion.

eowyn | word count: 800+

Eowyn, Lady of the Mark, would react much like her brother at first. Suspicious and protective of her people, she would do all she could to ensure that those around you were taking all precautions necessary when you are first brought before the throne. She wouldn't take as long to come around to you as Eomer would, however. She was more prone to trust people and offer them a chance to prove themselves.

You see, Eowyn has a sense about people. She could always read them like an open book, whether they meant to be read or not. And you? Well, she had a feeling you were a good book. Shrouded in mystery and understandably met with fear at first by most of her kin, Eowyn would be the first person of her people to reach out to you as an individual after the initial shock of your sudden arrival and concerning origins.

She'd be the one to bring your meals and stuff extra pastries under the napkin for you (she'd conceited her brother and his men to allow you a room with humble furnishings rather than a cell until they were sure you would not pose a threat) and offer up small talk as best she could. Eventually, though, that small talk turned into stories and memories shared between two fast-growing friends. You told her all about your world, about your home, about the technology and amenities you missed, about the pretty lights of the city at night and the twinkling strings of lights decorating your bedroom walls.

"They're like little bursts of fire within tiny shards of glass, led along a wired string of sorts", you'd tried to explain. You loved the way she listened to your every word, her smiles growing bigger and her eyes reflecting the warmth of the hearth.

You told her about your family and friends and some of your most memorable moments with them. Several of which derived a very contagious laugh from the fair Lady of the Mark. "Tell me more about your homeland!" She would exclaim, offering an encouraging nudge to your knee.

She would spend hours helping you adjust in whatever way you needed. Didn't know how to brush your teeth the medieval way? No problem; Eowyn walked you through the steps. Kept burning your fingertips while trying to light the lanterns and oil-glazed candles? She'd show you how she got around that herself as a child. Wonder what it would be like to fight like the soldiers training in the yard? Eowyn would teach you better than any man could.

You'd always wondered what it was like to experience that best friends to lovers sort of romance—and that's exactly what you found in Eowyn. Although her protective loyalty had set a boundary between you for the first week or so of your unexpected arrival, that loyalty was soon extended to you. She'd be the first person you would really trust, the one you would call for when your dreams turned sour or your loneliness weighed too heavily in the night. She'd be the one who would lead you around Edoras, showing you the beauty of her home and people. She would teach you to bond with your own horse and train you well to become a proficient rider yourself.

The horses (and Eowyn, of course) were really what made you hesitant to ever leave this realm called Middle-Earth if you could. Rohan, their whole culture, was surrounded by the rich history and generous communion with horses. Everything here was tied to legend or powers beyond humanity's limited understanding—but everything was beautiful and enchanting. Their ancestors resided in great halls of kings in the stars. Everything about these people was so rooted in family and kinship. You'd never known anything like it back home.

People in Edoras were kind to each other, save the occasional drunkard. And Eowyn—Eowyn was the brightest star among them all. Compassionate, loyal, and brave. Those were the words you thought of when she came to mind (which was more often than not).

It wouldn't be long after becoming best friends, perhaps a few months, that you would feel things slightly shift between you, and she, you. You wanted more of Eowyn. More hours spent riding together across plains of tall grass and wildflowers. More evenings unraveling the debris of the wind from her unkempt golden hair. Eowyn wanted to share with you her greatest secrets and desires, her darkest fears. She wanted to sleep alongside you, her hands entwined with yours, to ward off the nightmares she often suffered. Eowyn found herself always in want of you; your voice, your presence, your scent. You become her comfort.

No matter how harrowing your appearance had been and the implications of other worlds beyond hers—Eowyn would never once wish that the fates or ancestors hadn't brought you to her across realms. You were everything she'd needed and yearned for in a friend and a partner her whole life, just for someone to see her and hear her.

You'd become everything to each other.

elrond | word count: 1.1k+

The Lord of Rivendell would be no stranger to mysterious visitors happening upon his halls unannounced. In fact, he'd begun to think it almost routine at the rate hobbits, dwarves, and all manner of beings showed up on his doorstep. But there was definitely something different about you, the visitor who claimed to hail from another land—no, you clarified, not just another village or region; another world.

Where cars and trains and buses rattled the bones of the earth and ushered time and society forward at a harrowing speed. Where kingdoms and governments warred endlessly and stars were a rarity to see above the lights of growing cities.

He would be interested in this "advanced" world of yours and desired greatly to learn more about its vast variety of life—but not as much as he was interested in making sure you were acclimating to such a drastic alteration of life itself.

He would be wary of you, due to his wealth of knowledge on all manner of strange magic and ill-boding omens (do you know how many peddling sorcerers and distasteful necromancers this man has had to turn away at his doorstep?). However, Elrond would be much more hospitable from the very beginning than any of his kin. He wouldn't be as off-standish or suspicious of you—at least, not to your face.

You would be given lodging and hearty food almost immediately rather than a cell and modest portions, as well as a servant-guided tour of Rivendell and access to most of the beautiful city (save for the sacred archives and private chambers). He would not only meet with you in the hours he could spare each day to decipher your journey into Middle-Earth, but he would recommend several pieces of history and literature to get you acquainted with the customs and cultures around you. He would let you into the library at any hour you needed, even in the wee morning hours when you couldn't sleep.

A gentleman through and through, your experience with him would be much different than with any other host you might have stumbled across.

He would be undeniably patient as you're thrust into an entirely different way of living in every possible aspect, down to the very brass tacks of human nature. It feels like you're having to be raised again, like how children are taught to take care of themselves and understand the way things and people around them work and operate. There is never a grievance expressed or muttered from him as you excelled with some aspects and struggled through others.

His graciousness and soft-spoken wisdom were just the cusps of how intelligent and tender-hearted the kind elf truly was—all of which you would come to know well when he had had plenty of time to adjust to you. His introvertedness would definitely be a bit of a stunt in the development of your relationship from acquaintances to romantic partners.

He wasn't one to speak just to engage in conversation and keep busy; he only spoke if he truly had something worth saying. That of course makes it difficult for you to try to communicate beyond discussions about your unprecedented situation. But if you asked a question or politely pressed for conversation, he wouldn't deny you his attention either. While this leaves you being the one to strike a majority of the conversations between you (outside of his devoted interest in learning about your situation), you don't mind all that much. You could push through your own social anxieties as long as the person was receptive and open to engagement, and Elrond certainly made extensive efforts to be as much and more.

You liked his quietness, though. It was attractive in a way that made you hang onto every word he did decide to share. It gives you a sense of comfort. It's startling at first, the way you're able to trust him so fast, especially given the absolute madness of your traveling between realms themselves. Surely it was wiser to have your guard up at all times when in a strange new world with such stark contrasts to your own, right?

But you just couldn't bring yourself to doubt someone so compassionate and sincere.

All the while you're slipping fast into fonder feelings with every day that dawns over Rivendell's many waterfalls and etched forests, Elrond is slowly dissecting every thought pertaining to you as it surfaces in his mind. He had already had one great love in his life, the mother of his sons and daughter, a loving lady who had led their kin alongside him. He would feel such a heavy burden of guilt when he realizes the same patterns of infatuation and fondness start to swell over him. The same fluttering, freeing feelings that he had felt with his wife in their early years together. The same wandering of thought, despite his very disciplined nature. The instinct to return to your side when he wasn't busy, as if that was suddenly where he belonged more than in his study or his chambers.

Within a mere few months, it was Lord Elrond who was escorting you to peer at moonlit waterfalls and forests set ablaze with fireflies and starlight. It was he, rather than a servant or guard, who taught you how to mount a steed more than half your height and ride with all the elegance of an elleth. It was he who felt his zeal for excitement return to him when you dared to race him beyond the forest and across the rushing ford. It was Elrond who sat with a smile on his face as he listened eagerly to the cultures that thrived in your world, specifically the details of your own home and heritage.

Although it took time to trust his own heart enough to feel more than politeness for someone, Elrond was no stranger to love or what it felt like. That's probably what would scare him so much when he first starts to feel himself becoming attached to you—the realization that somewhere along the discussions about your homeworld and the hours poured over tomes and memories...he was falling in love again.

Another facet of your growing relationship that would shock him would be the fact that he'd fallen in love with a human? Of course, he was the most tolerant of the race of men across all of his elven kin, but even that tolerance hadn't prepared him for the day he would face the same risk of love that his daughter had faced (you know, the courtship with a human that he'd told her to leave behind for immortality? Well, now he's facing the same question, darn it). He would absolutely need the approval of his children before even making a single stride in pursuing something beyond friendship with you, something permanent (spoiler alert, they would absolutely bless your courtship).

arwen | word count: 500+

Arwen Undómiel would be very open and intrigued by your arrival, especially when she notices how out of place you seemed to be, not only among her people but with the way of life itself in Middle-Earth. It isn't until she inquires about your odd behavior (the asking about cellphones and electricity and other foreign amenities) to her father that she realizes you had hailed from another world entirely—not just another region or from somewhere beyond the mountains. Learning this, her intrigue only grows.

She was a lady who adored her people and the comforts of her home, but was not a stranger to adventure and the restlessness that accompanies a free spirit. Because of her love for exploring and learning, you're like a perfect mixture of mysterious and confusing. She might not have understood how travel between realms was at all possible, but she didn't mind not knowing. After all, many of her kin were gradually departing to the Undying Lands beyond the sea—a place that, in its simplest explanation, was a sanctuary divided from the common world of Middle-Earth. If such a place as that could exist just beyond the western horizon, then surely it was not so outlandish to think that there were even broader realms beyond that.

Arwen, as stated before, is a very open individual when it comes to expressing her feelings and saying exactly what she means. There is no loitering about wondering about this or that—when Arwen desires to become your friend rather soon after your arrival in her father's halls, she does just that.

She would help you adjust to things with an abundance of patience and sincere interest. She would be excited to teach you about her people and her world—about its histories and legends. But even more so, Arwen would be of even more aid when it came to helping you work through your sporadic emotions as the shock and remorse of your situation became clearer with each day. Of course it was exciting to suddenly find yourself in a world as illustrious and peaceful as this one—but there was a home, a family, and a slew of friends and interests that had been left behind without warning. She doesn't belittle or rush your grieving process, and instead becomes your confidante and place of refuge.

She would speak on your behalf to her father, about what you might need or what you were struggling to understand. She would be your voice until you were able to get your bearings and become more and more comfortable while so far from everything you once knew to be true.

In short, she isn't one to be afraid of her feelings or have any reservations of expressing them the moment she becomes aware of them for herself. Because of that kind of communication and the way she would devote herself to helping you from the very first day, it doesn't take long before she confesses that she harbors a fondness for you, like how the moon has a fondness for the sea; how her father harbored a fondness for her mother, and still does.

It's her openness and her lack of fear in expression herself that draws you both together from the first moments you share. From then, your friendship developed naturally into something of romantic permanence. As your place in her world became cemented, your place in her heart flourished with unabashed sincerity.

legolas | word count: 500+

Legolas would be very suspicious and observant of you for quite some time before even engaging with you, much like his friendship with Gimli. Already being someone of very few words, Legolas would take his time in getting to know you before having even said a word to you. He was raised to be suspicious and discerning of "outsiders"; woodland elves, specifically those native to Mirkwood, were known for their suspicion and distrust of others, even their own kin.

So getting acquainted and close to someone who's not only not an elf or from Mirkwood, but also not even from Middle-Earth itself? That's gonna be a big barrier for him to get around and it's going to take time to achieve that familiarity and comfortability around you.

But when he does—it comes from seeing how you are with his friends, such as Aragorn and Gimli. His gradual trust builds up not from interacting with you for himself, but from observing how you communicated with others and treated his friends and allies. When he's more or less sure of your character, he would then venture into becoming friends. What he doesn't expect, however, is how quickly that friendship became something so much more to him.

Perhaps because he'd been getting to know you from afar and seeing how kind and generous you were with his loved ones despite the sheer confusion and fear you must be feeling every day in his strange world. It was one thing to venture away from home in search of adventure, even among unfamiliar faces, like he had. It was another entirely to be ripped from your world and everyone you knew, away from your kin and your people, away from your family, without any sort of warning or choice. He comes to admire you and the bravery you displayed every day just by choosing to exist in his world and trying your best to become a part of it.

Then he would notice how you'd been taught to fish with just a shaft and some thin twine by Aragorn's hand. How you kept absorbing skills as though you were a sponge, desperate to cling to any sort of help. This is when he would reach out and offer you archery lessons because "everyone should learn to have some skill with either a blade or a bow. It is better if you know both—but in your case, I think we should start with one." And you chose the bow, telling him how you admired how beautiful of a weapon it was, how graceful. You'd seen it in movies and read about great archers—you'd always wanted to be one. And so Legolas, though he had no idea what a movie was, vows to make you proficient with a bow.

It's really your devotion to learning about his world, about his friends, and eventually about him that really snares him in the end. The way you refused to wither and panic within the shelter of one of many great cities in Middle Earth, but instead wanted to see the world and get your bearings, despite how obviously unsteady it often made you feel. For you, you'd not only been brought to another world, but a world that was supposedly far behind in its technology. Everything had completely changed for you and yet you still worked hard to make something good out of your predicament. It's that bravery that pulls him to you.

galadriel | word count: 300+

Someone as wise and clairvoyant as the Lady of Lothlorien would not be surprised at your unprecedented arrival across realms. She had probably (listerally) seen you coming long before your arrival (remember that magic basin of psychic water she traumatized Frodo with?). Her ability to read the minds of others offered her an immediate leeway into your intentions and sincerity. This meant that while she was still careful with you, she was well aware that you posed no threat or harm to her people.

You, on the other hand, were more than wary of her upon your first meeting. It wasn't just the shock of entering a new world that made your heart uneasy to trust—but something about the ethereal, untouchable power about the Lady Galadriel herself that left you teetering into doubt and discomfort. While her beauty and gentleness made her alluring and with time to develop that trust, your doubts faded. Her goodness and generosity proved time and time again that her power wasn't something to fear.

Something that made her so wonderful once you grew trusting of her was how much she believed you—largely due to her ability to read minds and people themselves—and never doubted your character or motives.

Hailing from a world hewn with distrust and malice, the calm pace and sincerity in which Middle-Earth (and Lothlorien especially) was governed made you hopeful for what sort of life could be made there.

With the help and generosity of your hostess, you soon considered Lothlorien your home. Not just for its beauty and its sort of magnificence that you'd never seen in your world before—but also for the lady who watched diligently over her forest and her people. In time, you came to consider her your closest friend, someone you could wholeheartedly trust with your life.

Galadriel would find your naivety of her realm intriguing and would be more than happy to offer herself as your guide. She would find your tendency for loud bursts of laughter and curt outspokenness refreshing in a culture of hushed voices and gracious tones.

All in all, you're both quite a mystery for each other to solve. Luckily, neither of you mind the adventure of getting to know one another.

haldir | word count: 600+

To say that your first meeting had also been a bit of a rough start was the understatement of the century. I mean, who would react well to having a dozen arrows poised inches from their face while trying to find their way out of an unfamiliar forest? Your fear had quickly turned to frustration and anger, despite the threat of being pierced with the polished shafts of their arrows. Your quick turn to anger stunned the very poised marchwarden—it wasn't often that intruders grew hostile when threatened at the neck. Typically, people would stare back in silence like a doe stunned by fear.

A mixture of terror, exhaustion, hunger and dehydration had driven your more cooperative senses from your caliber of responses, evidently.

After you'd recovered well enough to be questioned over a generous meal, it was very obvious you were simply lost. Very, very lost. Of no threat to his people or the sacred forest they dwelled in, Haldir would have no issue in setting his pride aside to apologize for frightening you.

Soft-spoken and introverted, Haldir would have that wall of kind politeness that was at first almost polarizing to someone who'd just had the shock of their life by entering an entirely new realm in a split second. It would be many awkward attempts at sifting through your explanations and anxious emotions before Haldir was able to gauge how you would feel more inclined to trust him. And in order to achieve your trust, he would need to let you (a stranger, mind you) break through those carefully learned guards to see the real him behind the graceful countenance and elegant sentences.

It was your desperation to find answers, to understand if you had gone mad or if something so radical could have truly taken place, that sparked in Haldir the great need to console you. Generally, elves were calm and uninvolved beings—to those not understanding of their ways, they might even appear void of emotion. But that couldn't be any further from the truth. In fact, it was quite the opposite.

As your time in his homeland spanned from weeks to months, Haldir grew more and more attached to your side. Devoted to your wellbeing, he became more of a confidant and friend than the simple guide he had volunteered to be for you at the start. The softhearted nature that flourished within him bloomed around you, finding a home to take root in.

Your knowledge and straightforwardness about what you needed at any given time, whether it was a hot bath or an audience with the Lady Galadriel herself, struck a chord of admiration with Haldir. He didn't like having to piece together the riddles that strangers often gave when they were prejudiced or distrusting. Your sincerity in such matters, no matter how embarrassing or seemingly insignificant, quite honestly inspired the skilled marchwarden. With such honesty, he didn't have to work so hard to get the answers he needed to best help you.

In return, it's his diligence in his help that draws you to him. The absolution he promised with every request he listened to—there was never a question or a need he left unresolved for you. If you'd asked for your favorite meal from your world, he'd find some way to have it made for you. If you'd gone to him in a fit of tears and in need of comfort, his arms would be the first to be open to you.

It wasn't that you were a basket case, mind you (and if you were, he'd never let you or anyone around you use such insensitive terminology for your very validated expressions of distress). It was simply that you'd never been so vulnerable and in need of someone before. And Haldir, well...Haldir had never felt so inclined to a soul before, so effortlessly devoted and tethered as if some string was being pulled taught between you.

Haldir relished in being able to be of service to you.

And you held fast to the curious needing you felt for him.

gimli | word count: 400+

From the moment he met you, Gimli knew something wasn't quite right. Sure, you weren't waving the tips of pointy weapons or spitting out slews of evil curses at people—but you were like a shard of sea glass among grey stones. Everything about your stature, the way you spoke and carried yourself, the way you interpreted the world and its people around you...it was all so different from anyone he'd ever met before.

For starters, you're much more outspoken than anyone he'd come to know. You weren't afraid to speak your mind (and even include the occasional profanity to get your point across) in any given occasion or setting, even among elven nobility. The time you practically cursed his fair-haired elven friend Legolas out was an afternoon he'd not soon forget. Especially since the whole ordeal, which he conveniently didn't recall the details of, had most definitely been Gimli's fault rather than the prince's.

He wasn't too keen on trying to understand all the details about your predicament or how you came to be in this realm of all places. Gimli never asked for more of an explanation than you were willing to give, which was something you found quite refreshing amidst a slew of people who had been asking questions upon questions since your peculiar arrival to Middle-Earth. You knew you didn't have to explain yourself to him or try to make sense of it all in order to be believed—the red-haired dwarf simply nodded through his pipe smoke and moved on.

In all honesty, Gimli hadn't thought much of you at first, the same way he didn't think much about anyone until it was apparent their paths would cross more than once. He didn't give much effort into friendships that weren't of substance, despite the loss of much of his kin. If anything, it was harder for him to attach himself to friends now than it ever had been before due to the great losses he had suffered.

But when he does get accustomed to you, it's all over for him. Once Gimli gets attached to a friend or partner, his dwarven passion for loyalty and honor kicks in. He understands you're not familiar with this place, whether that meant Gondor or Edoras or any other region beyond Middle-Earth, and that's enough for him to believe you and offer some sympathies to your situation. He was kind of the same, you know. Far from home without any of his kin left to visit or send word to.

All in all, Gimli likes your modern gumption, your fighting spirit, and that occasionally sour tongue of yours. And although it's obvious he didn't have to protect you when you were very efficient in doing so for yourself, he would gladly spend an age or two by your side offering his services as a companion—and someday, perhaps as much more, if you'd allow it.

frodo | word count: 400+

Somewhat of an expert in the joys and terrors of adventuring, Frodo Baggins would be a most empathetic and compassionate companion to have upon crossing into his realm from your own homeworld. More than anyone, he would understand the pressures of having to keep it all together in the presence of unfamiliar faces. When he had been the ring bearer, shouldering an object with the very sentience of darkness within it, the fear and desperation had nearly overtaken him as he traveled into forests and mountains he'd never ventured to before. He couldn't imagine traveling between worlds—realms of existence entirely. 

He would value the trust that you placed in him, handling it with the utmost care. His skill for listening is unparalleled, as is the wisdom he offers in return for your woes. 

Frodo would find your situation extraordinary and fantastic. He wouldn't be able to resist asking all of his questions and brimming with excitement about this realm of yours beyond his reach. He would, however, do his best to temper his ecstatic humoring in favor of handling your delicate situation with attention and care. He found himself reminded of the years he spent as a young boy listening to Bilbo's stories of his grand adventures with goblin kings and dwarf lords and fire drakes from the north. 

Imagine hours of pouring over books and scribbled notes his uncle had left behind for him, huddled near each other by a warm fire in his home. Papers and stacks of sifted lore and myth, anything pertaining to what had brought you to Middle-Earth, littering the floor around your folded legs and shared quilt. He would dedicate himself to helping you find the answers you were looking for, even in his small corner of the world (don't worry, he has this friend who's a king somewhere out on the southern plains who would be more than happy to lend some scrolls and tomes).

To Frodo, your mere existence is illuminating. Just having you pop up in his favorite glen while he was spending his usual afternoon reading was enough for him to strike an interest in you. You were yet another adventure, living and breathing, waltzing into his life. Sure enough, you become an answer to the hobbit's dwindling hopes for normalcy, thinking perhaps he was destined to the fate of bachelorhood and haunted memories, the same as his uncle. 

You show him that it is possible for Frodo to have another adventure—one that won't cost him his soul or his life. (Just maybe his heart.)

samwise | word count: 500+

Samwise Gamgee knows a fool when he sees one—after all, he'd grown up with Merry and Pippin in his circle of friends. So when he's the first to believe you out of the tale-spinners and prank-weavers of the Shire, it's a relief to say the least.

He'd invite you into his home, seeing as you were so far away from yours and had no way of going back. He would offer you his pantry, his sunroom, his best linens and finest silk nightgown. There would be afternoons of gardening and learning a trade for yourself that would both provide food on the table and a bit of coin in the markets. Sam would be more than delighted to have a houseguest to cook for, seeing as his Old Gaffer wasn't one to spice up the recipes very often. But for you, Sam would cook a feast. He'd even sit down with you and help you write out recipes that reminded you of home, meals that wrapped around you like a warm blanket on a cold day. He'd grow flowers you remembered seeing in your mother's garden.

Somehow, even so far away from your world and your home and your friends and family, Samwise Gamgee would give you a sense of home you'd never encountered before.

It was so exceedingly rare to find people so willing to lend such a selfless hand to others in need. Helping a strange person he'd never met find their way through Hobbiton was one thing—but inviting them into his home and giving them a place to stay and warm meals to eat without anything in return? Quite literally offering the (night) shirt off his back? You'd never been extended such kindness before.

When Sam realizes how much of a stranger you are to such hospitality, he would go all out with everything he possibly could. Finding it rather sad that you'd come from such a dismal world that was void of such simple acts of kindness, Sam can't help but want to display every possible act of kindness he can think of.

And Samwise found in you the purpose he'd yearned for all his life—the chance to be something for someone that no one else could, the chance to make a difference simply by being himself and doing what it is he does best. Although it was difficult for you to navigate through the differences and the culture shock of his world and his land—there was really very little to complain about when you find yourself in the Shire (except maybe those pesky neighbors who have nothing better to do than to stick their noses in your business between meals).

Eager to be at ease and belong, you are more than willing to learn all that Sam can teach you and his way of life. Your acceptance and sense of humor, joking about things he didn't quite understand (What was that you'd said about looking "at all those chickens"? Those had definitely been ducks swimming in the pond that day), worked together to win Sam's heart in no time.

It really didn't take long before Sam was fonder of seeing you disheveled in the mornings and in his borrowed nightgown than fixed up for the day ahead; for him to cherish those small domestic moments you'd both begun to share as time wore on. Before long, Sam found himself daydreaming of dances and the music of flutes and fiddles to set the pace.

merry | word count: 500+

This rascal would absolutely not believe a word that comes out of your mouth about whatever peculiar land it is you keep droning on about. Automobiles? Airplanes? Lanterns that work without fire? Portion control and food pyramids dictated by the government? What the bloody hell was all that nonsense? (Dark magic or the result of some soured Old Toby, he was sure of it.)

He'd volunteer himself to be your official tour guide to Middle-Earth, claiming he'd been as far as Mordor once (wherever that was, you had no idea) and was, therefore, the best guide anyone could ask for this side of Brandywine River.

For the longest time, Merry really thinks you're spinning tall tales about this world you came from with all these fancy doohickeys he hadn't a clue about. As someone proficient in telling exaggerated memoirs and pulling indulgent pranks, he would for the longest time assume that your explanation of origin was one and the same. Listen, he'd seen the weird stuff out there, probably as much of it as there was to see, and there definitely wasn't any Europes or Americas or Indias or anyplace else you kept mentioning.

When he's taking you on a stroll along his favorite trade route all the way to the Breelands and back home, any mention of your predicament (beyond being a lost traveler far from home) was met with a mischievous scoff and a twisted grin. Once, with a mouthful of fresh summer berry bread, he'd made such an expression of dubious skepticism that he hadn't needed to even utter the "uh-huh, sure" along with it.

He meant no harm in his teasing disbelief, of course, but sometimes the gradual accumulation of it got on your nerves. While Merry was fun, kind, and a very joyful and admirable hobbit to be around...sometimes it felt as though you were trying to convince a toadstool that its colors were indeed brown and not blue.

He's fond of you already, of course, nearly upon the moment he met you—who else was he taking on his little adventures across the many borders within the region of Eriador apart from Pippin and a batch of Old Toby?

As weeks pass and one day, his distrust in your explanations pricks a little too far beneath your skin, your bout of aggravated and fearful tears came as a shock to the hobbit. It's in that moment sat across from each other with a small campfire between you that his carefree persona faltered with guilt.

Oh, he thinks. You're telling the truth about all that.

From that moment on, he would be the most expressive and compassionate person you had ever met. He'd be sure you were getting your daily dose of sunlight and ale for the day, as well as whatever desserts or hearty meals you felt inclined to indulge. You'd become attached at the hip and wherever Merry (and usually Pippin) went, you were there with him (them). He'd already been welcoming and friendly to you, but now he had this sort of tenderness in his gaze that you thought might melt you through like a chocolate drop in the oven. And if anyone were to express the same sort of doubts or contribute to the rumor mill around Hobbiton about you, he'd put an end to it before it had gone beyond the hedges of Bagshot Row.

pippin | word count: 400+

Much like his rapscallion counterpart, Pippin's first impression would be that your whole story about arriving from another realm was a fabrication of your very active imagination. He and Merry had spun their fair share of tall tales and mischief as far and wide as the town of Bree and the little villages along the Brandywine river.

Unlike Merry, though, Pippin's reason for skepticism wasn't even so much skepticism as it was ignorance. He'd never knowingly poke fun at what you were going through, whether he thought it exaggerated or not. Pippin just truly didn't think it was at all possible for other places to exist. He really thinks you're joking or unsure of what you're even saying for the longest time.

But when Pippin figures it out after you become a sordid mess of blubbering tears over a pint of ale outside the Green Dragon Inn, he realizes everything you'd been trying to explain hadn't been a "really wonderful story" you'd been working on. It was how you'd come to be in the Shire, in Eriador, in Middle-Earth at all.

"There's no use cryin' ov'r a pint, (Y/n)! Ded someone let the barrel sour?"

You sniffled, trying to dry your eyes with the back of your hand before they were too heavy to extinguish. "It's not—it's not soured, Pip."

"Oh. Then what—?" He took a moment to understand. You'd been talking about a dog with two mismatching socks on its paws. A bedroom with fairies for lights and walls made of printed paintings. The way you'd been describing everything was almost too detailed to be off the top of your head...and then he realizes.

Pippin would buy you another pint, one untainted by salty tears. He'd do his best to listen more, although he still misinterpreted much of what you tried to explain. But it was better now, knowing that he was trying to comprehend this world of yours, rather than committing it to his memory as a tavern story.

He'd be excited to learn about what sort of drinks and food and pipeweed you had in your world and what sort of music your village danced to at seasonal festivities.

While Pippin may not be able to really grasp the extent of what you're explaining, that perhaps entire realms exist beyond the very vast one he had traveled across himself, you are reassured that he does at least believe you and understands the jest of it. And somehow, that's all you really needed—someone to just listen to what you were trying to say, to take your truth for what it was.

(Of course, this confirmation that you're really an "other-worlder" as he coined it means that he's designated himself to acclimate you to the life of a hobbit to its full extremities. This includes seven meals a day, which you're more than happy to oblige.)

TAGS:  @moony-artnstuff @wellfuckmyexistence @tessaem @izbelross @bloodblossom73

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[jamiewintons]

Boromir Relationship Headcanons

Boromir x F!Reader, headcanons are both SFW & NSFW (so no minors, please!). This is based on the movie version of Boromir, so if anything contradicts the books, I apologise 🙏

These are just some of the first headcanons that came to me, so I may end up doing a second post at some point! Anyway, hope everyone enjoys, and if you’d like to discuss Boromir headcanons, my askbox is always open!

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SFW Headcanons

- Boromir is quite the romantic. He’s never really been in love before you, so it catches him by surprise how strongly he feels for you. Like he finds himself randomly thinking about you while he’s training and ends up all flustered and distracted. He never saw himself getting married either - he’d always been too busy defending Gondor - but once he falls for you there’s no doubt in his mind that he wants you to be his wife.

- Even if you’re of a proper status to be Boromir’s wife, there’s a good chance that Denethor won’t think you’re good enough for his favourite son. But Boromir will not relent in his desire to marry you, even if that means defying his father and marrying you in secret. There’s a good chance that Denethor will get past it eventually anyway, because in his eyes Boromir can really do no wrong.

- He is incredibly physically affectionate - he loves giving hugs, and cuddling, and picking you up and carrying you. He loves being the big spoon, wrapping his arms around you and holding you close to him while he buries his face in your hair. Even if he’s had the most stressful day imaginable, holding you in his arms makes all of the stress and bad things in the world seem to melt away, even if only temporarily.

- Boromir hates being away from you, though obviously his duty to Gondor means he often has to leave for battle, sometimes even for long campaigns. But he keeps you on his mind always, and he fights in your name just as much as he fights for his country and his people.

- One of the ways to make Boromir melt is to show him gentleness and tenderness. Like you tending to his wounds after a battle? You washing his hair? He’s going to fall even more in love with you and look at you with pure adoration in his eyes, just feeling so lucky to have married the most wonderful woman in Middle Earth.

- I think he’d want to have a big family, maybe four or five kids, and a mix of daughters and sons! Of course if you’re not comfortable with that, he’ll defer to your choice - he understands that when it comes to making a child, he’s really got the easy job. If you do end up having children, he’d be such a sweet and attentive father - just imagine him playing with your kids the way he did with Merry and Pippin in Fellowship 🥹 - and I like to think that he would encourage his daughters’ interests just as much as his sons’! He’s definitely making sure not to play favourites at all either, because he saw how much that hurt Faramir when they were growing up and to this day.

- (I saw an imagine post talking about dad Boromir where he plays knights with his daughters and it solidified girldad!Boromir as my favourite headcanon, but I’m having trouble finding it again - if anyone knows the post I’m talking about please send me a link, I’ll love you forever ❤️🙏)

NSFW Headcanons

- Boromir is a very attentive lover, and so so handsy. This man will be touching you all over while you’re making love, particularly focusing on your hips, breasts, and thighs. I think he’d love it if you’re on the thicker side, because it makes it even more satisfying for him to touch you.

- He can be a massive tease - especially if you have particular sweet spots that he knows how to exploit in the best way possible. When you moan loudly, he’ll look at you with the biggest grin on his face as he asks you if you’re enjoying yourself. He’s a tease with his words too - sometimes he’ll whisper something dirty in your ear in an otherwise innocent situation just to see you blush - but he’ll certainly follow through on any promises he might have made to you later.

- When Boromir’s not being a tease he’s still talking a lot, mainly a lot of praise and whispered sweet nothings. If you talk dirty to him, it drives him crazy.

- This man absolutely has a breeding kink. I don’t know what exactly makes me think that but I just get that vibe from him. Like I said above, he wants to have a big family, and he certainly fantasises about getting you pregnant. If you beg him to cum inside of you he will fold so quickly. And when you are pregnant, he can barely keep his hands off of you, though he makes sure to be extra gentle as to not accidentally hurt you while you’re in such a delicate condition.

- He eats pussy like he’s starving and you’re the first food he’s seen in weeks. If he could spend all of his time with his head between your thighs he’d probably die happy.

- Also he loves it when you sit on his face.

- He’s very proud of himself when he makes you come really hard, and he usually won’t think about his pleasure until he’s made you come at least twice, maybe three times. As such, he’s not really into quickies, he wants to take his time.

- His favourite places to have sex are in bed, and also sometimes in the bath (but touching each other in the bath usually leads to him taking you to bed).

- Boromir prefers to be able to look you in the eyes when you have sex, so any position that facilitates that will be a favourite. He does like putting your legs over his shoulders, but he also likes watching you ride him.

#boromir x reader #boromir x you #lotr x reader #lotr x you #lord of the rings x reader #lord of the rings x you #boromir imagine #boromir imagines #lotr imagine #lotr imagines #lord of the rings imagine #lord of the rings imagines

[lotrandthehobbitwritings]

if i were to post incorrect quotes for lotr/the hobbit would y'all be interested? 👀👀

i have a few in bank already, ready to be posted at any time

honestly i think even if this post gets no attention that i’ll publish the quotes anyway, but nothing’s wrong in asking right! 🫢

#lotr #lord of the rings #the hobbit #incorrect quotes #lotr imagines #the hobbit imagines

[heatling]

Imagine this: You shifted in to a reality where you meet your fave fictional character. It begins with you being enemies but slowly two of you start to grow feelings for each other! And when it's your time to go back to your own reality they kiss you like this one last time 😩✨

(1st gif by KooriAkuma)

(2nd gif by Art & Design)

#epicmovie #boromir x reader #legolas x reader #aragorn x reader #lord of the rings #thorin oakenshield x reader #kili x reader #fili x reader #the hobbit #lotr imagines

[finchinmoria]

LOTR Characters as surgical hospital staff

I've had a million surgeries growing up (give or take) and was in the hospital again recently, and I coped by casting my comfort characters as hospital staff, as one does.

Please allow me to present my over-idealized hospital scenario in the form of... LOTR characters as hospital workers:

Frodo: Works the surgery admissions desk. Even at 5:45 in the morning he is cheerful and attentive. He always jumps up to help people with wheelchairs/canes or to point out the most comfortable seat in the waiting room. He asks questions gently and translates medical/insurance jargon so that different types of patients can understand them best. After he secures your hospital bracelet (verifying name and date of birth, of course) he walks with you down the hall to your next stop to get ready for pre-op. He enjoys being the first point of contact for patients because he can try to set the tone to ease anxieties. He doesn’t say he hopes everything goes well with your surgery… he assures you it will!

Merry: Pre-op nurse. Going in and out between rooms sometimes gets hectic but he’s pretty laid back and somehow has the timing of changing into hospital gowns down to a science so no one is ever waiting too long or interrupted disrobed. Gets your IV in with no problem and is more than generous with heated blankets, to the point you could probably make a blanket fort. Always talks about the randomest things to keep your mind off the surgery you’ll soon be having. Has nothing but praise for the anesthesiologist.

Éowyn: The anesthesiologist. She’s covered in medical PPE, but communicates clearly just from her eyes and voice. She sits next to your bed while she goes over everything and gives you honest answers even if they’re scary. When you ask for a little pre-anesthesia sedation she mixes up the perfect dose that doesn’t hit you too hard. It actually makes you feel relaxed, not just sedated.

Arwen: The OR nurse that accompanies you from pre-op into the surgical room. She hooks up your oxygen and talks to you while everyone else rushes around. She has a talent for reassuring eye contact. Everything is bright and overwhelming but her gentle, low voice gives you something to focus on. She asks gentle questions, explains what is going on, and holds your hand if you need. She’s the one telling you to count backward from ten as you get a little dizzy, and it’s her soothing words that give you permission to drift off to sleep.

Faramir: Post-op nurse, monitoring you when you’re waking up from the anesthesia. He knows all the right things to say to all your weird questions and nonsensical statements as you come out of it. Gently keeps you from disrupting your oxygen tube. Interprets enough of your loopy sentences to discern that you actually need nausea medicine and stays on top of it.

Aragorn: Inexplicably the only phlebotomist the hospital apparently has. He’s the one that takes your blood in pre-op and you think you’ll never see him again, but when they decide they need an emergency lab done late one night during your hospital stay, he’s the one that shows up, knocking incredibly soft on your door before he enters. Somehow he remembers everything you had talked about when he first saw you in pre-op, and picks up the conversation pretty much where you left off. He has a talent for talking about the things that make you just happy enough to distract you from getting blood drawn. Of everyone, he looks the most out of place in scrubs but that somehow makes you trust him more.

Pippin: The night shift nurse technician with the worst ever luck. If he’s on shift it’s pretty much guaranteed the blood pressure cuff will never work properly and the IV pump will explode, or at the very least make all manner of beeping noises at the worst times. He’s visibly relieved when you tell him you couldn’t sleep anyway, so you don’t mind, after five solid minutes of trying to shut the machine up. After things settle down he’s genuinely concerned over how difficult it is for you to sleep and checks in on you more often through the night. After his shift, you recall some lighthearted chats you’ve had with him through the night and it’s enough to help you finally get some rest in the early morning.

Galadriel: Radiologist that shows up to whisk you away to a different part of the hospital with cool art on the walls and stained glass panels on the ceiling. Everything is kind of floaty and you’re still unsteady but she’s way stronger than she looks and gets you on the table for your imaging with ease. It’s quite comfortable and the only thing you’ve done in this place since you checked in with Frodo that hasn’t hurt. This makes you kind of emotional, plus you’re still out of it from pain meds and not sleeping so you blurt out that she’s the most beautiful person you’ve ever seen in your life. (She probably hears that all the time.)

Haldir: Day shift nurse that keeps everything on the floor running the way it needs to. He keeps you informed exactly of what to expect with everything you have going on: meds, IV changes, checks on your incision and drains. He always makes sure you’re ready for physical therapy on time, though he absolutely hates it when PT plays games in the hallway. (He tries not to let his feelings about this show to patients, because he knows they love playing games in the hallway, but he certainly will not hesitate to confiscate various sporting accoutrements if they become disruptive.)

Legolas & Gimli: The two physical therapists that work your floor, and they take turns. Of course their trading off turns into a competition. You walked half the length of the hall with Gimli, but the next day you walked the entire length of the hall with Legolas. Gimli gets ahead when you tackle not one but TWO stairs. It becomes obvious you are making better progress on Gimli days, so Legolas tries to win by bringing a volleyball for you to kick around the hallway. When things get out of hand and Haldir intervenes, Legolas says it was Gimli’s idea. (He then hides the volleyball from Haldir in your room.)

Gandalf: The random hospital chaplain that never shows up at the same time twice, even though he always says he’ll stop by “right before lunch.” Sometimes it’s 8 AM sometimes it’s 2 in the afternoon, once it was almost midnight, but you were awake and it was nice to have company for a few minutes. (The only problem is if he shows up during PT. Legolas will cut your session short so you can visit, Gimli will make him wait.) You think Gandalf should maybe be talking about religious stuff since that’s his job but he talks about anything you bring up or are interested in. Has been known to hang out and watch entire movies on the Classic Films channel with patients and sneak in vending machine snacks.

Boromir: Fills in one night as night shift nurse (he’s usually in the ICU). He doesn’t talk much at first, but he’s incredibly observant. As soon as he enters the room, before you can say anything about it feeling uncomfortable, he notices something is wrong with your incision drain and immediately fixes it. You’re kind of worried when you see Pippin is the nurse tech that night, but they actually work well together and Boromir doesn’t seem to mind even the fifth heart monitor malfunction of the night. By the end of the shift he’s cracked a few jokes and takes your vitals before he leaves so Pippin can avoid another altercation with the blood pressure machine.

Sam: The nutritionist that is responsible for the plate of waffle cut fries showing up to your room at 3 am the night after you’re cleared off the liquid diet. Because you need the calories and can’t sleep anyway. And when you were on the liquid diet, he wrote in a request on your behalf to only have cherry Jello sent after you mention that you don’t care much for orange or lime. He makes helpful suggestions but never pushes anything. (However, he does show up to chat with you in person after you didn’t order anything from the kitchen except cheese sticks and ice cream sandwiches for three meals in a row.)

Elrond: The surgeon with an odd, distant, but ultimately endearing bedside manner. He always severely over-estimates the recovery time for his patients. It’s only after reading the third night report that you were eating french fries and kicking a volleyball around the hall with Gandalf at three in the morning that he reluctantly discharges you.

Note: I was in a pediatric ward as a kid for like two months once, and on certain days they would indeed let us play volleyball in the hallway. I doubt anywhere allows adults to do this, but for this little fantasy, I couldn't resist. Thanks for reading!

#lotr #lotr headcanons #lotr imagine #lotr imagines #lotr characters as #lotr characters as hospital staff #lord of the rings #lotr characters #lotr hospital au #the fellowship as #the fellowship of the ring #lotr x reader

[shirefantasies]

How would the fellowship, Thorin, Fili, Kili, Haldir, Arwen and Eomer react to someone they like who always calls everyone by cute names like ‘love’, ‘babe’, ‘hon’, ‘darling’ etc.

Oooh, good question! I’m going to split this up into LoTR & The Hobbit imagines for the whole casts if that’s all right 😄

LoTR Characters When You Call Everyone Pet Names

Aragorn

His favorite part of your habit, in all honesty, is other people’s reactions. The first time you do it to him he sort of quirks up a brow, but others take it more extremely, offense or otherwise. He gets protective, though, if those others respond taking it too far. He’ll step in front of you if they start flirting with you or try to touch you unbidden even if you’re just friends at that point. No matter who in his group that is, unacceptable. At the use of a regular name slid into the flows of your conversation, something akin to "Oh, honey, you have no idea", his lips quirk up and privately he wonders if you’ve ever meant it.

Legolas

Your first meeting is you brushing past him at Rivendell with an "Excuse me, darling". Needless to say he stares after you with wide eyes because you must know him, but from where? Then you greet Elrond with an enthusiastic "Sweetheart, how I have missed you", and while the Lord of Imladris appears aware of the affront, he is also amused. Clearly this is simply your manner. Because of this, he accepts it without much overthought, though your pet names never fail to bring a smile to the elf prince's lips.

Boromir

The kindness you show him almost breaks him- is he worthy of your honeyed words? "Easy, dear heart, the troubles you carry are not even your own, are they?" The part of him tempted to lash out almost wins, but at the end of the day, you are right. All he can do is shake his head. He's heard you say call such sweet names before, but alongside your other words they pierce his heart like nothing before. He bids you sit by his side. "Wish me to speak or to listen?" You ask, and that is when Boromir knows he has fallen for you.

Gimli

"Who are you calling sweetheart, darling?" Offended as he may be, Gimli also takes it as a challenge of sorts, leaning in closer with smug satisfaction. It becomes a sort of tension for you both, an odd banter of affectionate nicknames tossed out even with the bloodiest challenges. "Cut his head off, Gimli darling!" "Wouldn't dream of doing any less, dear!" Gimli begins getting offended as your habit pops out with others, asking you pointedly what you think you're doing calling the elf sweetheart. "What's he done to earn that, eh?" Leaning in, your noses almost brushing, you give him a smile dripping with smug mock-sweetness. "I thought you didn't enjoy being called that." "Well," he crosses his arms stubbornly, eyes falling away from yours, "I suppose I've gotten used to it now."

Frodo

"Frodo, my sweet, please eat just a bit more for me, I worry so." Frodo's heart does a somersault- he's made sure notice of your habit by now, heard you speak your darlings and sweethearts aplenty. You often said it to tease the others when spirits were light or when you cared for them, but that was not all. The words my sweet were reserved for him. Everyone else got a plethora, it seemed, but him, and it vexed him in the best way possible, twisting his heart like nothing else. The sound of it was like a balm to Frodo, and he dared hope it held the meaning he dearly wished it to, for he was too shy to ask it of you just yet.

Sam

“Sam, love, pass me the ladle, if you please.” Samwise, thinking his heart might burst from his chest and run right up to you, pauses, speaks carefully. “What was that?” He asks, your name falling softly, almost delicately, from his lips. He’d heard the way you tease people before, usually addressing them as ‘my dear’. This was something else. The smile you gave him in response, too, was practically enough to kill him- could you tell? “I just asked if I might borrow the ladle, love.” Yep, the jig was up now.

Merry

“It’s got to be some sort of custom.” “That or you’ll be very, very wrong.” You arched a private brow over Merry and Pippin’s back-and-forth whispering, but thought nothing more of it until your next interaction with the blonde hobbit. “Merry, sweetheart, what are you doing?” Looking up from his knife, he held up a small chunk of wood with a strangely cocky grin. “Just a bit of whittling, dear.” Something about the roguish look he gave you, the confidence with which he adopted your habit, had your heart fluttering; you faltered a bit in your response before you sat at his side. Unbeknownst to you, he was elbowing Pippin triumphantly on the other side.

Pippin

His heart soars the first time he hears you call him honey. No matter what attacks you or what happens that day, day made. Then he hears you saying "No put that down, Merry sweetheart" and it all comes crashing to the ground because he’d gotten it into his head that he was special- was he wrong? He had to have been. When the words so easily pass between your lips again, this time in the form of '"Gimli dear, let me see that", hurt mingles with realization of your manner- that is just how you are. Moments pass, thoughts drifting by as clouds deciding whether or not to storm, before Pippin makes up his mind: he'll make known his interest, try everything he can until he truly does stand out.

Faramir

Publicly he barely humors it, trying to keep a tough face when his seniors or especially his father are present. Privately? It amuses him. Pleases his heart to see one with light spirits in the face of everything. Your ways make you something of an anchor, a reminder why he does the things that he does. You make Faramir laugh and he knows Boromir enjoys your company too- the three of you together form an escape that reminds Faramir of his younger days. And perhaps that happiness you always brings him has slowly metamorphosed, glimmering with hope every time you call him dear.

Eomer

This man, a military leader, and you call him honey? Eomer is shaken up honestly. He can’t even be annoyed because he’s too busy freezing with a slight frown upon his face. Wits coming back about him, he opens his mouth to question you, ask in his blunt way why you address him so... then you turn around and call his sister my dearest and oh, perhaps he was truly overthinking it. He laughs it off, swears to put it out of his head...but the mental image of you calling him a name of endearment plays over and over again whether he wills it or not.

Haldir

“And what has our precious jewel brought to us now?” Since discovering Haldir bristled a bit at your little names, you had decided to find the most ridiculous ones possible for the marchwarden. It worked every time, too, judging by the furrow of his brow. “They go to the Lady of Lórien,” he replied simply, not to be goaded so easily. The man he seemed to know the best, the ranger, exchanged looks of amusement with you. “And what do you have to say for yourself, my dear?” You asked the man. Just as you suspected, Haldir’s expression darkened a bit further- perhaps he had gotten a bit more used to his names than he let on. At that, you couldn’t help a chuckle and a smirk.

Eowyn

Though she may not voice it, she is questioning of your ways at first because she has firsthand experience of people using words as weapons, saying whatever they can to influence others’ will. So sure, call her dear but you will get nothing of her she does not want to give. The day this changes is actually when you call her brother a pet name and he’s shocked and the wide look in her eyes has both of you laughing in a way you usually do not. She envies your carefree ways and from that moment on enjoys basking in them. It is impossible to help the way her heart gives a little flutter whenever a 'dear' or 'my darling' is directed her way, however...

Arwen

The surprise she fixes you with upon playfully addressing her as ‘my pretty’ encourages you, if you are being honest. It’s a pleasant look, flattered and floored, that you think a lady like Arwen deserves to make again and again. As a result, while everyone else gets a casual darling or dear, you make it your mission to fluster Arwen as much as possible. “Ah, treasure, how has this day treated you so far?” She flushes. “…Well, I say. Thank you. And I wish you to know that you are no less than you say I am. The way you speak to me? It can also be said of yourself.”

Elrond

You are caring. Parental. As a father of three, Elrond appreciates the way you speak gently and warmly. Assist his healed patients with soft whispers of be free of your pain, dear heart. As he granted you leave to use his name rather than My Lord you still slip up at times…until it becomes quite the opposite and a good night, dear slips from your lips upon parting for the evening. Elrond accepts and assures your every apology with an affectionate smile, shocking himself with the realization that his feelings for you are much stronger than he had allowed himself awareness of.

#lord of the rings #lotr #lotr x reader #lotr imagines #the fellowship of the ring #aragorn #aragorn x reader #legolas #legolas x reader #boromir #boromir x reader #gimli #gimli x reader #frodo #frodo x reader #sam #sam x reader #merry #merry x reader #pippin #pippin x reader #faramir #faramir x reader #eomer #eomer x reader #haldir #haldir x reader #eowyn #eowyn x reader #arwen

[lovefairymina]

*Accidentally swears in front of Linder.*

You did not hear that.

*squishes his cheeks.*

Don't repeat that word, okay? Lord Elrond will kill me if he finds out I taught you to swear. You are too adorable and innocent for this.

Gingerly prying your hands off his cheeks and cupping them in a soft embrace, he chuckled. “Meleth, I'm not a baby who hasn't heard such crudeness before, especially when Lord Erestor and the twins exists.”

#♡{sweet.hugs} ~ {lindir} #lindir #lindir imagine #lindir x you #lindir x y/n #lindir of imladris #minstrel of imladris #imladris #rivendell #lotr imagines #middle earth imagine

[notinusesworld]

“my hero” Frodo x hobbit!reader

synopsis: g!n reader. you have had a crush on frodo for years, but after his sudden disappearance for 13 months, and rumours of war, you eagerly await him coming home. his nickname for you is “bug ”, affectionate but you can imagine something else in its place

warnings: not angst but a little bit emotional, very fluffy, mentions of drinking and being drunk

words: 500-600

Requests are open!

for @mynameisaury

May, 3018

Frodo seems to be acting strange, him and Sam have been acting in secret ever since Gandalf returned to the shire. They have not been as social as they usually are, I worry for them.

February, 3019

They’ve been gone for too long, I hope they are well. I hope that they are just with Bilbo in Rivendell. But after that dark figure invaded the town not long after they’ve left, I fear they may be in danger.

March, 3019

Not a day passes where I don’t think of them. The sky have been dark for longer then usual and rumours of wars out south have reached our ears. As well as rumours that two hobbits have been involved. We do not know where Merry and Pippin are if who they speak of are Sam and Frodo, we previously believed they were all together.

May, 3019

I have heard there is peace now, the king have returned Rohan, people at the Green Dragon Inn are speaking of there being a new ag-

“Dang it!” Your inc spills over your diary, you are unable to finish your entry. You scramble for paper towels to clean up your mess, you manage to salvage the book and didn’t cause much damage to the table beneath you. You sigh and look around, cheers and laughter of hobbits and men are heard thoughout the halls. Defeated, you decide that you have drunk enough tonight and head back home, especially considering the light of day is beginning to peak over the hills.

It may be the alcohol in your system, but the air is fresh and you feel a calm wash over you, the kind of calm you haven’t felt in months. You walk slowly to sink in the sunrise, when suddenly, in the distance, you hear the clattering of horse shoes.

“Frodo!” you run excitedly to the familiar faces, they are dressed in fancy robes, the likes you have never seen before. But you don’t pay much attention to it, focusing on the boy stepping down from his horse opening his arms to you. You pull him into a strong embrace.

“Careful, y/n!” Pippin giggles, “You almost knocked the poor guy over!” The four of them laugh, they continue to ride past you two, giving you both some privacy. You only squeeze him tighter, tears forming slightly in the corner of your eyes, despite your wide smile. He is warm and smells of herbs. You sway slightly in his arms.

He pulls back slightly, putting his hands on your shoulders, you pull out a handkerchief and wipe away the small tears staining your cheeks, “There’s no need to cry, bug.” He coos softly, “I am here again aren’t I?”

“Why were you gone for so long? You worried me sick!” You shakily question him, looking into his big blue eyes, the sparkle and hope he previously had in them only a year ago is missing. He explains to you in short about the ring and how he destroyed it, while showering his friends with praise. He chokes up retelling what he went through, and promises he will go into more detail soon. You are in complete awe, you have the utter most respect for him.

In a moment of your own drunken bravery, you hold the sides of his head and pull him into a soft kiss, he’s stiff at first, but then moves his hands to your waist and deepens it. You both pull away slowly. “You’re the hero you always dreamed of being Frodo.”, you whisper to him, moving your hands to the back of his head.

He pauses for a moment, putting his forehead against yours, “And I hope that from this point forward, I will be yours.” He then moves one of his hands to the small of your back, and places a soft kiss on your forehead as your cheeks turn red.

a/n: i love this boy :’)

#lord of the rings #the return of the king #lotr #lotr x oc #lotr requests #lotr imagines #lotr headcanons #lotr hobbits #lotr x y/n #lotr x you #lotr x reader #lotr fanfic #lotr frodo #frodo baggins #samwise gamgee #merry and pippin #frodo x reader #frodo x y/n #frodo x you #frodo imagine #frodo imagines

[nomelwelloy]

Legolas imagine / drabble, [Legolas x reader]

☆*:.｡.

His hair is relaxed, unadorned by circlets or braids, gently lifted by the soft evening breeze, billowing about his face. Legolas walks towards you and for a moment is caught in the moonlight- hair illuminated white silver in her rays, eyeslashes casting long shadows over the sharp curve of his cheek bones, and the fine embroidery along his silk robes shimmer to life.

At that the sight of you, he smiles, quick and bright like a firework; flare fragments sprinkling in the brilliant specks of his irises. His hand comes to rest on the small of your back, and he greets you with a kiss to your temple. “Melleth nin,” he greets in a rough airy voice. “I found you missing when I woke, and the bed had grown cold. Have you been out here long?”

“Only for a while,” you reply, your own quiet smile coming to grace your lips. “The skies are beautiful tonight.” You both gaze up, drinking in the immense expanse of the dark skies and the soft, flickering pinpricks of light.

“A blessed sight,” you hear him murmur and feel his gaze sweep over you. “It is a little regretful that i've spent most of the day sleeping,” he muses quietly, “when such moments are already rare to come by.” His other arm comes around your waist in a loose embrace. He noses the side of your head with a wistful sigh. “Is there anything you'd like to do?”

“You slept so soundly,” you reach up to brush a stray lock from his face. “You must have been exhausted.”

He chuckles, the vibrations reverberating through the close proximity of your bodies. It's pleasant, soothing almost, and you sink further into his embrace. “It is because you were next to me, that i managed to sleep at all.”

It was indeed rare to see him like that, for elves needed little to no sleep after all. “Is there something troubling you?” you ask, hoping to understand the reasons for the grey pallor under his eyes and his unusually long rest since returning from patrol yesterday. You yourself had returned earlier this week, and upon your reunion after weeks away on separate duties, the first thing you’d done together was spend the entire day in bed- sleeping.

“Only that we have been apart for longer than i can appreciate,” he tightens his hold, brushing his lips over the cold skin of your shoulder. “But like this, i wish it could be forever.” His fingers curl into your soft sides, thumbs brushing over the thin fabric of your tunic.

You turn to face him, unsatisfied with his answer. Legolas smiles, recognising the look on your face, and he tries to placate you with a kiss under your eye, your cheek, and the corner of your mouth.

“I'm all right,” he whispers against your skin, his lips ghosting over yours, “You have my word.” he kisses you gently. “But i would feel better if you indulged me a little,”

You feel his kittenish grin, and you can't help your own as you return the kiss, hands coming up to weave through his loose locks. It is always a refreshing sight to see him with his hair like this, and it made your heart flutter. There is something so vulnerable about it, like it is reserved for only your eyes to see. And albeit tired, he appears even more criminally breathtaking.

“There is nothing else I’d like do,” you confess under your breath, “for I am so very content like this, with you,” and this only causes Legolas to break out into a silly smile, capturing your lips in another heart-fluttering kiss.

☆彡

a/n: finally got this out after months-long of a brain rot, with another rotting sitting in my drafts but hope you enjoyed this one! Reblogs are greatly appreciated <3

#elves probably don’t sleep that much but let’s overlook that this one #also please excuse any typos #editing it with my eyes half closed #;; hope it was enjoyable nonetheless #legolas #legolas x reader #legolas x you #Lotr drabbles #lotr imagines #legolas imagines #lotr #lord of the rings #legolas fanfiction #legolas greenleaf #nomelwelloy

[shrubdaddy]

desideratum | l.greenleaf

↳ 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: desideratum | /dəˌzidəˈrädəm/| noun | something that is needed or wanted.

⇢ 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: legolas x reader

⇢ 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: fluff

⇢ 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: none

⇢ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 987

a/n: hii, i haven't written in a while. pls have mercy. gif from @imaginelegolas copyright © | please do not repost my work.

You sat at the edge of the bed, fiddling with the warm, rough sheets looking anywhere but him.

Glancing at the window beside the bed, you stared into the dark and dense woods wondering how you got yourself into these precarious situations. Shifting your focus, you watched as the raindrops chased each other down the window, anything to distract you from the elf right in front of her.

Luckily, you were able to grab the last room of the bustling Inn. It turns out, that you and Legolas were not the only two traveling West. As you entered Rhosgobel, a small town close to the road, a dark storm began to brew and heavy rain began to fall on you both, soaking you to the bone.

The small tavern turned into a safe haven for weary travelers, which made the inn a little busier than usual. Thankfully, the room was a ways away from the noise, nestled in the very back corner of the upper floor.

A busy tavern meant an even busier bar and you found that men can get a little too handsy for your liking. Unfortunately, this led to a small incident that included a drunkard following you to the room and a not-so-merciful elf intervening.

“He’s gone, I promise you that,” he reassured her. “And I can confidently say, he will never be bothering you again.”

A delicate silence fell between them, nothing but the muffled murmurs of the crowd below and the howling wind outside. Catching a chill, you shivered from the clothes you had on or quite possibly from the harassment you had to endure.

“Thank you, I’m sure I could’ve taken care of it...” you said. Fiddling with your fingers, you wanted to end the conversation as soon as politely possible.

“I swore to your Father I would protect you on our journey, I will not betray his trust,” he said. Despite his warm words and the roaring fire in front of you, you couldn’t help but shiver a little. Unsure of whether or not the shiver is from the wet clothes or him merely thinking of you as a duty.

Legolas kneels in front of you with his eyes scanning your body for any injury. Without warning, he leans forward and reaches for your chin, nudging you to look at him once again and studying every detail of your face.

“You’re soaked to the bone, you need to rest now… I will keep watch at the bar and will to ensure that no one will come close to this room. He will not come back.”

There was small silence as you quickly looked away, before he leaned back to get up.

“Stay,” you whispered.

He paused, staring at you not knowing what to say.

she fiddled with her hands, looking anywhere but him. flustered and undone, she whispered just a little louder.

“I don’t want to be alone right now.” you looked up at him with pleading eyes. “Stay. Please.”

As the light of the fire brushed the side of your face, Legolas caught a glimpse of the dark circles under your eyes attesting to the countless, sleepless nights. You don’t if it was the exhaustion or the sheer desperation that gave you the courage. But he nodded, not saying a single word.

Taking off your shoes and wet outer garments, you slowly walk to the side and crawl into the bed, burrowing yourself in the covers hoping you can disappear for a small moment from embarrassment.

After ensuring the door is locked and all is secure, Legolas slowly walked to the other side of the bed to join you.

His eyes skim the smaller figure in the bed and couldn’t help the little breath that escaped him.

Joining you in bed, he moves closer to you shifting a little closer to you. He was so close, you can feel the heat radiate off of him.

And out of sheer courage and faulty foolishness, you turn around — avoiding any speck of eye contact, you move closer to him and he gently wraps his arms around you.

As he pulls the covers over the both of them, he makes sure to tuck you in, covering every inch of you with the blanket. As you finally feel a bit more comfortable, you burrow yourself deeper into his chest and whispering a barely audible, “Thank you.”

Looking down at you, Legolas tugs you just a little bit closer, holding you a little tighter and whispers back, “Always.”

Your eyes begin to slowly flutter shut and as your breath begins to even, your soft breaths even out and you’re fast asleep.

Unconsciously, Legolas begins to caress the small sliver of skin on your shoulder as you sleep. Enamored by the reality that he’s holding you, he couldn’t help but want to soak at this moment.

His eyes graze your sleeping form, memorizing every little detail from your messy, entangled hair covering your face to the even little breaths coming from your slightly cracked lips.

it mattered not to the uncomfortable position he was resting in — with his head angled in a precarious position halfway on the headboard and his slightly numb arm wrapped around your slender waist, it only mattered that you asked him.

You asked him to stay.

Not because he asked but because you undoubtedly felt safer with him.

And that warmed his heart at the same time shattered a million times over. He wished to keep you safe and protected and loved forevermore. If only you allowed him.

But in this moment, he will take anything he can get. Legolas was thankful, and maybe a little selfish, for these smaller wants that led to this moment because wow did his heart flutter every time he looked at you.

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