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nimbusnight28174 · 4 months

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LOTR Week Day 7: The Fellowship of the Ring

LOTR20 Day 7: Free Day

Summary: Frodo hosts an unexpected party. 2094 words

In a hole in the ground there lived a hobbit.

Not a nasty, dirty, wet hole, filled with the ends of worms and an oozy smell, nor yet a dry, bare, sandy hole with nothing in it to sit down on or to eat: it was a hobbit-hole, and that means comfort.

This particular hobbit hole had a perfectly round door with a yellow brass knob in the exact middle; it boasted a fresh coat of vivid green paint, and the decorative plants by the entrance were lush and trimmed perfectly. It was the nicest hobbit hole anyone could think of.

The inside, however, was decidedly less clean; books, papers, and maps were so plentiful that they were stacked on the floor as well as every surface, and little trinkets and knick-knacks were piled wherever they could fit, making the house look smaller than it actually was.

This was something that Sam was working very hard to remedy—he dashed determinedly from room to room like a bumblebee, trailing dust and frantically organizing everything as best he could, his face flushed red from exertion.

Frodo did not understand his mission, or the severity in which he pursued it—it was all he could do at times to stay out of Sam’s way and avoid being bowled over. “Sam, what is going on?” he exclaimed. “Is anything the matter?”

“I couldn’t tell you now, Mister Frodo,” Sam answered as he was on his way to Frodo’s office, carrying an armful of scrolls and maps. “There’s not enough time!”

“Time for what?” Frodo pressed, taking the maps out of his hands and putting them into the correct drawers. If Sam was so bent on cleaning Bag End, Frodo decided that he could at least make himself useful and help—after all, he was like Bilbo in the sense that his possessions would simply continue to pile up if he wasn’t somehow compelled to clean them—and here he was, quite literally, being spurred into action.

Sam muttered something about how ‘they could be here any moment’, which piqued Frodo’s interest; Sam rarely invited guests to Bag End, something that Frodo knew was for his sake, as he wasn’t as effervescent a host as Sam and Rosie could be (although he had told Sam many times that he was welcome to have whomever he wanted over at any time). The fact that Sam would suddenly take him up on the offer without even letting him know was curious indeed—and although Frodo asked who was coming, Sam was very tight-lipped about the whole thing.

It wasn’t until the early evening, when the sky outside was beginning to be tinged with pink and gold, that a sharp rap came from the door.

Frodo quickly shoved the last of the clutter—a banner he had received from the King of Rohan that he had nowhere to hang—into the nearest closet and rushed to open the door.

Standing there, grinning wide and carrying bowls of punch and mulled cider, were Merry and Pippin.

“Hello, Frodo!” Pippin exclaimed. “Surprised to see us?”

Frodo laughed and answered, “Well, Sam was being so secretive about all this I didn’t know who to expect! Please, come in and make yourselves at home.”

Merry and Pippin gladly obliged, setting the drinks down on the table and commenting on how nice Bag End looked.

“Must’ve taken hours,” Merry said, sitting down on one of the many plush chairs in the living room and propping his feet up on the coffee table.

“Sam did most of it,” Frodo supplied, “so it went shockingly fast. I—”

He was interrupted by another knock on the door, this time heavier. As he went to go greet the newcomer, Frodo called back to Sam: “Who else did you invite?”

Sam trotted up to the door, a bashful grin on his face. “Well, if I told you it would spoil the surprise,” he said, sharing a look with Merry and Pippin.

Frodo opened the door, and was so shocked by what he saw that he stood there for a long moment in awkward silence.

There, on the doorstep, looking quite out-of-place in the quaint town of Hobbiton, were Legolas and Gimli. Gimli was dressed in rich red robes, his beard adorned with intricate braids and beads of silver and gold, but his eyes sparkled even brighter as he let out a hearty laugh and crushed Frodo in an embrace before the hobbit could protest.

Legolas, who was too tall to fit under the doorway without crouching, was also smiling, his fine hair hanging loose about his shoulders; he was clothed less ornately than Gimli, but he looked no less ethereal with his long ears and green silk uniform.

“It’s wonderful to see you,” Frodo managed to sputter out once Gimli had released him. “I had no idea you would be coming!”

Legolas laughed. “Your friend thought it best to keep it a surprise for you,” he explained. “May we come in?”

“Of course,” Frodo said, stepping aside so the Dwarf and the Elf could enter. Legolas still stooped a little, but Gimli was quick in complimenting the size of Frodo’s home.

“It’s just like my father said it was,” he said, “Only cleaner!”

This made Frodo laugh—Bilbo always was a bit of a magpie, and he had never changed in his ways, only passed his habits on to Frodo. “Please, help yourself to anything in the pantry,” he said, opening the door for them; to his credit, he always kept the pantry well-stocked with every type of delicacy and meal, though he rarely entertained guests.

Legolas and Gimli thanked him, setting their own contributions beside the punch: a delicious-looking loaf of bread, speckled with cranberries and orange peels, along with a crate of Dorwinion wine from Legolas, and a whole haunch of roast venison dripping with spiced juice from Gimli.

“Who else is coming?” Frodo asked. He suspected at least Gandalf was on his way.

Sam grinned. “Oh, we’re expecting two more,” he said.

Merry emerged from the pantry, carrying a sticky bun in each hand, and pointed out the window. “There they are now,” he announced.

Frodo went to look for himself, and saw that two people were making their way up the path; he could not tell their faces in the fading light, but he knew one of them was Gandalf by the white robes and tall pointed hat he wore.

When the two of them arrived at Bag End, Frodo was already waiting for them; it was indeed Gandalf, looking older and more wizened than when Frodo had last seen him, carrying a satchel instead of a staff. “My dear Frodo,” he said, putting a hand on the hobbit’s shoulder. “It is good to see you.”

“And you, Gandalf,” Frodo answered with a smile, placing his hand on Gandalf’s. “What a happy surprise!” He turned to look at his companion, and encountered another shock when he saw it was none other than Aragorn, King of Gondor—though he had exchanged his regal crown for a blue velvet hood, and his robes appeared more comfortable than kingly. “Strider,” he greeted.

“Master Underhill,” Aragorn replied, a jovial glint in his eye. “It is a privilege to be here.”

“The privilege is mine,” Frodo said, waving them both into his home. The gentle sound of voices had filled the hall, a welcome change from its usual silence; the others had gathered in the living room, enjoying glasses of punch and sweets. When they saw Aragorn and Gandalf, they all cheered with delight.

“Now our Fellowship is complete,” Legolas said, smiling. “You look older, my friend,” he said to Aragorn.

“Only a year, wiseacre,” Aragorn protested. “Raising an infant and ruling a nation is no easy feat.”

Gimli laughed and chimed in with, “Aye, and a feat I’m glad I’m not required to perform—the Elf and I have spent this past year traveling!”

“We haven’t,” Merry added. “I don’t think I’ll ever take a step out of the Shire again—not even to raid Farmer Maggot’s crops!”

Frodo snorted as he lit the candles on the table. “Not that you would ever have to, being filthy rich,” he said with a grin. Merry shrugged his shoulders affably and laughed with the rest.

“We’re ready to eat, I believe,” Sam called out. He had set the table magnificently, and soon everyone had taken their place around the table. There was one empty seat beside Aragorn, for the ninth member of the Fellowship who was no longer there.

They spent the whole evening laughing and sharing stories of how their lives had been this past year, and even some tales of their time in the Fellowship; Sam was eager to tell everyone that his wife was expecting their first child sometime in the coming Spring.

After a while, Frodo began to fall a little quiet, his energy running low from the excitement; he swirled the wine in his glass idly, his eyes sometimes falling on the stump that used to be his third finger.

He sometimes wondered how his life might have been, if he had not stood up in that Council and took the burden of the Ring upon himself, or even if Bilbo had never found it in the Mountains. Would he have been so haunted, so weary, so odd? Would the people of Hobbiton have whispered about his slipping sanity, or would they have praised him as the life of any party?

Perhaps he still would have been quiet and reserved; part of him knew that he would never have met the magnificent and wonderful men sitting around him, that he would never have formed these bonds.

But was it all worth it?

“Mister Frodo?” Sam’s quiet voice interrupted Frodo’s wandering thoughts and brought him back to himself; his brown eyes were filled with concern. “You look tired… are you ill? Is it…” His eyes slid downwards and he gestured to Frodo’s shoulder.

Frodo managed a smile. “No, Sam. I’m all right. Just a little worn down.”

“Do you want me to tell everyone to leave?” Sam asked.

Frodo shook his head. “No… I’ll be fine. I’ll just probably go to bed soon, if that’s all right; I’ll be well in the morning to say goodbye.”

He began to stand up, but he caught everyone’s eyes on him; they were watching with a mixture of reverence, love, and pity, just like Sam—Gandalf especially.

Frodo’s cheeks began to heat, and he felt bad for wanting to leave without saying farewell. So, he turned to face them all, looking into their eyes; Sam’s warm with compassion, Merry and Pippin with affection and joy, Gimli and Legolas with excitement, Aragorn with nobility, Gandalf with peace and the same weariness that Frodo felt.

“My dear friends,” he said. “I am honored to have you all with me.” He paused. “It makes… it makes celebrating what we have done worth it, in a way; the Enemy has been defeated, and thousands of lives have been saved because of us, but I know that we all have suffered through our quest. Some of us…” his eyes fell upon the empty seat, “...Some of us have even lost their lives fighting for this peace. But what makes it all worth it is the true peace that came with our struggle. There were people we loved who deserve the best parts of the world, and to live without fear. I took the Ring because I knew that, even if I did not come back alive from our quest… at least those who would come after us would be able to live freely. And now the world has been saved, and…” And I’m very tired, thought some part of him. The world is bright for everyone but me. “And I am so glad to know that all of us are living richer lives because of it,” he ended, quietly. “It has been such a privilege to have you all here.”

He dipped his head to the company, who were all silent with emotion; Gimli was brushing tears out of his beard, and Merry and Pippin were smiling past the glassiness in their own eyes.

Merry stood up and lifted his glass of wine. “To Frodo,” he announced.

The rest of the Fellowship stood also, repeating the gesture. “To Frodo!”

As they all finished their glasses and laughed with each other, Frodo drank the rest of his wine and said, quietly, “To the Fellowship of the Ring.”

Well, I'm so proud to have finished LOTR Week 2023!! It's been so wonderful and fun, and also challenging as a person who starts projects and has a difficult time finishing them. I loved each of these stories, and I'm so glad you did too!

Thank you so much for your kind words and support of my writing, and I'm so happy to have been able to participate in this lovely challenge with so many other talented writers, artists, and aesthetic makers! Thank you to @lotr20 for hosting this challenge, it's been so fun!!

Taglist:

@lotr20, @frodothefair, @kylobith, @konartiste, @acornsandoaktrees, @kylobith, @from-the-coffee-shop-in-edoras, @lanthanum12

#♡♡♡#frodo always makes me so sad #he played such a big part in saving middle earth but he could never find healing there #you really portrayed him and the fellowship well #also the ninth chair??#sad #anways your writing is great as always #love your descriptions

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nimbusnight28174 · 4 months

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LOTR Week Day 6: Arwen and Elrond

LOTR20 Day 6: Triumph . Healing . Hope

Summary: Arwen prepares for Aragorn's coronation. 508 words

The sun was shining at last.

Arwen sat by the window, letting its bright rays fall upon her face and basking in the warmth, as she waited to leave with the company of Elves; she had longed for this day ever since the Fellowship of the Ring departed from Rivendell so many months ago, taking her beloved with them.

The days had been so dark then, full of uncertainty and evil… but now the shadow had passed, and the Dark Lord himself had fallen. It was time to celebrate the triumph of the Free Peoples.

A knock at her door made her open her eyes and look away from the window. “Come in,” she called, and a moment later her father entered the room, dressed in fine white robes. His brow was strained, but that faded when he looked at Arwen, and a smile spread across his stern features.

“My daughter, you are so beautiful,” he said.

Arwen smiled at him and rose to her feet, turning a bit so he could see her fully; her dress was the pale green of spring after winter, edged with intricate white embroidery, and her soft black hair was woven in an elegant tiara that perfectly fit her brow. The gown was one of the most beautiful she owned, having once belonged to her mother; though it felt a little loose on her thin frame—she was still recovering from the sickness of Mordor—she felt more beautiful than she ever had before.

She began to dip into a curtsey, but a sudden wave of dizziness passed through her, and her father took her arm as she stumbled. The smile on his face was replaced momentarily with concern.

“Are you well?” he asked. “Do you still feel sick?”

Arwen swallowed, but in a moment the headache passed, and she straightened. “I am well,” she assured him. “It was just a short spell; I have healed, I promise.”

Her father’s eyes passed over her once more, looking for any sign of lingering sickness, but he nodded. “I know you have… I just cannot keep from worrying about you, little star.” He chuckled, a little sadly. “I have been so worried for so long, I do not know if I can let go.”

Arwen smiled and took her hands in his own. “Remember, Ada… there is hope now. Aragorn will be King, and our world is free at last. We need fear no evil any longer.”

“You are right,” her father said, returning her smile. “Now, speaking of Aragorn… I believe it is time to go. Are you ready?”

Arwen let go of his hands and reached beside her, taking hold of the banner of Rivendell she was to carry. “I am,” she said. “I have always been ready.”

She, the Evenstar of her people, led the Elves up the aisle to greet the newly crowned King of Men, feeling stronger and lighter than she ever had before.

And when her eyes met Aragorn’s, it was like the meeting of the sun and the stars.

This is a day late, I know, but I wasn't going to give up---so enjoy this little drabble of Arwen! I think she's a very underrated character in the fandom, so I wanted to write something from her perspective, and I hope you enjoy!

taglist:

@lotr20, @frodothefair, @konartiste, @kylobith, @acornsandoaktrees, @lanthanum12, @nimbusnight28174

#i love your take on them #their relationship is so underrated but they care so much about each other #thank you for tagging me♡#i left a like it's just that you can't see it's from me

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nimbusnight28174 · 4 months

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At the end of the journey

@lotr20 | day 6 | Triumph | Hope | Healing

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The reign of Sauron the abhorred had come to an end, and the days of peace where upon them at last. Many had been lost, but through their triumph they would be for ever honoured and remembered by the free peoples of Middle-Earth, in every laugh and every stone rebuilt for their hope and their bravery as they fought against the shadow.

Frodo, the bravest of them all, and the loyal Sam who had followed him into the darkest places of the world, had prevailed; and even as all hope seemed lost, they lived to see it healed. The fellowship was gathered again, for all but one, but together with his brother they kept his memory alive. Boromir had been a good man, who had wanted nothing more than to see his family and friends and people safe, and his memory would not be forgotten.

Though victory was theirs, it had been hard won, and it weighed heavy on them all, for they had lost so many and also themselves, for no one walks out of a war unscathed. Legolas had heard the gulls call during the Battle of Pelennor, and would have to sail West, and though he did not want to worry his friends, he would sometimes seem so very far away. But he had told Aragorn that he would stay to see his reign to an end, and when his friend died after many peaceful years, Legolas was there by his side, and Gimli too

The hobbits, who had seen little of the world outside of the Shire before the journey and been sheltered from its darkness, had changed most of all. For though Merry and Pippin were still quick to laughter and mischief, they had also grown serious, and Sam had become anxious to keep his friends in sight.

There was a shadow over Frodo, and he was distant even as he talked and smiled with his friends. Elrond had confided in Gandalf that he did not know if he could be healed, here in Middle-Earth; and the wizard had closed his eyes and despaired for the young hobbit he had once known, so excited for tales of adventure and fireworks.

But for all of this, days of joy now lay ahead of them; and though the hobbits were eager to get back home after everything that had happened, and to see what had become of the Shire, they stayed to help with the rebuilding and to see their friend crowned King.

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nimbusnight28174 · 4 months

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Should I move my writing over to my actual fandom blog? Maybe that will remind me to start reblogging to it again

#ramblings

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nimbusnight28174 · 4 months

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Crying cuz I'm v v tired and not, somehow, because of the angst I just wrote

#my tearducts are weird #tired? tears #v cold outside? more tears #actual emotions? tears rare or all in cuz trauma #ramblings

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nimbusnight28174 · 4 months

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Somehow I always end up writing in the middle of the night

#if you ever see a typo in one of my fics it's safe too assume that it's cuz #i generally don't proof-read #or i'm too sleep-deprived to notice #ramblings

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nimbusnight28174 · 4 months

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Hope you enjoy my stories!^^ You can find me here on ao3❤❤❤

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nimbusnight28174 · 4 months

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The curse of immortality

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@lotr20 | day 5 | loss

The gulls were calling him.

Ever since that fateful day on the fields of Penlennor, he had heard their cries, and felt the longing of the sea wash over him; but Legolas would not leave his friends behind, and so he had chosen to stay. There had been hard days, but many more had been happy; and he did not regret it even if he was now sitting by his old friend's side as he lay dying, holding his weakening hand gently in his own.

Aragorn was smiling at him, and it was one of content; for through his lineage he had lived a long life, and it had been a happy one; but it was also one of comfort, for he knew his friend well, and saw that his grief went deeper still. For Legolas was an elf with mortal friends, and he would one day be left behind. So Legolas grieved, for Aragorn and for Gimli and for his immortality that now more than ever seemed nothing but a curse.

He was meant to set sail for the West, after Aragorn's funeral, but how could he part from Gimli now; filled with the knowledge that they would never meet again, and that they could have had more time? For whilst they had other friends, the three of them shared something special; a true bond that had been forged through fire as they together faced down the darkness of Middle-Earth, always staying true to each other until the very end. No, he could not bear losing him too; not so soon.

For now though, Legolas gazed down at Aragorn where he lay, and met his warm eyes with a smile of his own; and though the tears never left his eyes, they talked long into the night about all that had been.

When Aragorn died a few days later, it was surrounded by the people he loved and who had loved him greatly in return.

#lord of the rings #lotr #lotrweek #legolas #aragorn #gimli #loss #grief #mourning #friendship #angst #mortality #immortality #lotr fic #lotr fanfic

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nimbusnight28174 · 4 months

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A family gathering

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@lotr20 | day 4 | family | friendship

With eight days to go before the party, Arwen came home from Lotlórien; and she was accompanied by Lindir, who had journeyed there briefly too see a fellow scholar. From her letters, the two had been verging on violence by the end of it, and from the foul mood of his advisor, Elrond suspected they had not resolved things. That, or he was simply tired from being on the roads, for Lindir was an elf of comfort and not one for travelling.

But regardless of how they had parted, Elrond was certain the two would continue their correspondence; for whatever Lindir said, they were friends and had been so for many years. And so, with the assurance that his friend would be alright and with a short greeting before he slipped away inside, Elrond turned his attention back to his daughter, who was just now stepping off her horse after waving off the guard come to help her down.

Arwen was beaming as she approached, throwing her arms around him in an embrace, and Elrond smiled greatly in turn, for he had missed his daughter dearly in her absence and was glad to see her home safe. If there were tears in her eyes, only he would know.

They reconvened later that evening in the privacy of the dining hall, and many more greetings and welcome backs were given as family and friends gathered together to enjoy a meal in pleasant company; and many stories were shared of the times that had passed, and they were happy ones, for this was a moment of joy. Whilst Lindir had not shared with Arwen what exactly went down in the Golden Woods, but Erestor was glad to say that he was in a far better mood now than when he had arrived back, but that the minstrel had said not to disturb him the next few days unless The Dagor Dagorath had come early. Be that as it may, she had plenty of other tales to share, and so did the others.

Glorfindel recounted the Great Battle of the Snowball Field, as it had become known amongst the children, to the delighted laughter of Arwen, and Erestor had to hide his own amusement behind a drink so it would not go to his head; Elladan and Elrohir told of another incident with Glorfindel, that had the older elf flushing and avoiding the intense glare of his lord, and Erestor quick to join in with more before Glorfindel retaliated. By the time they finally parted, the hour was late but their spirits high.

#lord of the rings #lotr #lotrweek #arwen #elrond #elladan #elrohir #glorfindel #erestor #lindir #family #friendship #fluff #winter #lotr fic #lotr fanfic

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nimbusnight28174 · 5 months

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Of snowballs and laughter

@lotr20 | day 3 | courage

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That Elladan and Elrohir had changed since the attack on their mother, was all too apparent to everyone who had known them in the before, and it saddened them greatly; for though the twins had always kept to themselves and a select few more than they had spent time with others outside of official duties and training, they had always been friendly and easy to smile. But gone were those days, and though they had not become unkind, they were stoic and had taken to leaving the realm for long periods of time, hunting orcs with none but each other and their horses for company. Elrond, privately, had despaired to his friends that he feared he would end up losing his children, too. Arwen, though not out in the wild in a neverending hunt like her brothers, had taken to residing in Lothlórien with her grandparents, and so she as well was seldom within his sight apart from during celebrations. Thus, every year, the elves of Imladris tried their best to outdo the previous, and bring the grieving family some joy. And this, is where Glorfindel comes in.

Now, it was widely known that the old elf would happily partake in mischief with the children if asked, but what few realised was that he was want to instigate too. Elladan and Elrohir knew this extensively, for he had been an enabler of their sillier ideas as elflings themselves; but that was long ago, and they did not think often of those days as it pained them. For this very reason, it came as no small surprise when they were suddenly drenched in snow upon walking outside, with Glorfindel throwing his head back in laughter some feet away whilst standing behind a wall of grinning children; piles of ready-made snowballs lying by their feet in wait for their turn to be used that they quickly started throwing as soon as their prank was deemed a success. Under the intense stares of the twins, Glorfindel wiped at his eyes, shoulders shaking and the bells in his golden hair tinkling merrily. Distracted by Elladan walking closer, he missed when Elrohir bent down to scope up their revenge and yelped as he was struck. But even as he was soon pressed on his back with two elves looming over him, he felt no regret, for they were smiling; and all around them, the cheerful laughter of children was ringing in the air as they attacked each other and every adult who came into their path, and formed alliances and built snowforts and were bright and warm on a frozen day.

It takes a certain amount of courage, to nail the lord of Imladris in the face with a snowball; nor any small disregard for propriety or lack of self-preservation. Glorfindel, who had fallen and returned to life, ticked all of these boxes and thus one sailed through the air and struck true. Erestor, who was walking by his side, quickly backed away; holding up his books as a makeshift shield and leaving them be on the battlefield before the blonde menace inevitably dragged him into things. His loyalty to his friend and lord did not extend to snowball fights, of all things, and he felt no guilt as he abandoned him to peer at them through a window, a book opened for plausible deniability.

Elrond, blinking off his confusion, levelled his marshal with an exasperated look; but at the meaningful glance of Glorfindel, aimed somewhere behind him, he turned his head and was struck once more, but this time in his heart; for long had it been since he saw his children have fun. As he turned back towards his friend, words failed him, for a thank you did not seem enough; but Glorfindel waved it off with a wink, and withdrew a hand from around his back where it had been hidden, to throw another snowball.

Hours later, when the elves and residents of Imladris were well and truly wet, and in dire need of a hot meal and a fire to warm beside, they finally ventured inside; and there Erestor was waiting with a feast of fresh cookies and cups of steaming chocolate to stave them until dinner, and a fond smile as the elflings regaled him with their tales of the great battle, patient as they talked all over each other and congratulating them on their victory in defeating the enemy; a very tired Glorfindel looked satisfied nonetheless, as he curled up in an armchair by the fire, Elladan and Elrohir by his side, and indulged in the treats.

#lord of the rings #lotr #lotrweek #elladan #elrohir #elrond #arwen #glorfindel #erestor #courage #family #fluff #angst #winter #snowball fight #lotr fic #lotr fanfic

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