#Wished To Be Loved {Aragorn}
loupettes · 4 months ago
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The Lord of the Rings: The Return of the King (2003)
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hacash · 7 months ago
obviously I am here for any and all queer readings of ‘confirmed bachelor Frodo Baggins’
but I also wonder if at least part of the reason Tolkien wrote this was because he had Frodo’s bittersweet ending mapped out, and as a WW1 survivor who would have seen so many husbands never return to their wives, and he couldn’t quite bear to give Frodo a wife/sweetheart who’d end up losing him (because that hurts my heart)
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gothhobbithoe · 4 months ago
The Fellowship at the airport:
Would insist they arrive extra early to avoid any mishaps
Pretends he doesn't know Pippin when he sets off the metal detector
Drinking a lot of coffee to stay awake at this ungodly hour
Wishing that he took a separate flight
Has packed the bare essentials
Will overly awake and functioning
Loves the airport
Always forgets to take his belt off at security
Turns the airport experience into a quest
Packed too much "just in case"
Uses the luggage trolleys to push around the very sleepy hobbits
Dad mode activated
2am airport MacDonalds
Looks flawless as always
Glides through security
Packed lightweight and effectively
Shows off his perfect passport photo
Practising languages whilst he waits in the queues
Hates flying, hates airports, hates security, hates a lot at 2am
Loves duty free shops
Doesn't understand why everyone packed so much, agrees with Aragorn about only packing essentials
Upset that he can't take his axe on holiday
Constantly reading whilst in the airport and on the plane
Buys more books in duty free shops
Lots of books in his suitcase
Hates his passport picture but everyone tells him it's ok
Made himself Frodo's "airport buddy"
Terrified of missing the flight
Offers to carry people's luggage
Is already homesick but so excited for the trip
Gets nervous at security but reassures Frodo as a coping mechanism
Loves the airport and will talk non-stop to all the clearly tired fellowship members
Buys new sunglasses because "they look cool"
Bumps into everything and everyone because of the "cool" sunglasses
Convinced Pippin that there are no laws in an airport
Forgot half his things but doesn't care as "I can always borrow Merry's"
Gets lost twice
Sets off the alarms in security and gets searched which he find hilarious
Was the one to persuade Boromir to let them ride on the luggage cart
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lillianofliterature · 3 months ago
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!
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 ◉ )_/¯
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
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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.
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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.
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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.
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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.
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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.
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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).
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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.
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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.
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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.
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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.
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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.
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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.)
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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.
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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.
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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.)
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TAGS:  @moony-artnstuff @wellfuckmyexistence @tessaem @izbelross @bloodblossom73
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spideyanakin · 10 days ago
hihi can I request a angsty-fluff fic with Eddie?
Cheerleader!popular!reader and Eddie are friends, he always makes her laugh and smile 24/7 , and Eddie is inlove with her (let’s say since first year of high school) when he was about to confess his feelings for her, he saw her talking to a jock and that made him realize he wasn’t enough for her so he backed off
Reader noticed this, and confronted him. And he confessed his feelings about her and with something along the lines “your a queen, and I’m just your joker.” Then obv reader says she also likes him and they date :D
Let me be your Harley
Eddie Munson x Cheerleader + popular!reader
Author's note - for the sake of this fic let's pretend Harley Quinn appeared earlier in the DC universe :)
Masterlist 🧚🏻‍♀️
Eddie Munson masterlist 🌻
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Eddie Munson never thought he could have a friend like you.
Never in his wildest dream would he have imagined being best friends with the prettiest girl in school, who also happened to be a cheerleader.
But there he was, on a random Tuesday evening, smoking with you in his room.
"What do you mean Legolas is an asshole?" You chuckled as you took a new puff of the joint Eddie had lit up a few minutes ago and handed it back to him.
"You don't remember that moment in the two towers where he legit let Aragorn bend down to listen to the earth and struggle and stuff and waited for him to come to the conclusion that indeed a whole ass army was headed towards them, and Legolas was just 'oh yeah I can see them from here, I've known about them for ages."
"Oh yeah, I remember" You laughed. "But he's not an asshole for this. Legolas is one of my favorite characters" you frowned a little.
"He's a good character, but elves can be assholes in general in lord of the rings"
"Don't shit on the elves, Munson" You hit his chest with the back of your hand, a new fit of laughter escaping you both.
At this moment Eddie couldn't help but stare at you. You had this giddy high smile on your lips and shiny eyes. Your hair was loose and you were still in your cheer uniform. You made eye contact and Eddie thought he was going to pass out.
His heart leaped in his chest and somehow he knew, he knew that he couldn't keep his feelings to himself for much longer.
He had already been head over heels for you since the first time he saw you in that high school cafeteria. He knew he would die for you the second you exchanged words for the first time and he had struggled to let the words 'thanks' and 'bye' in the same sentence, causing him to mumble something in between.
He had to pinch himself every day since the moment Mrs. Smith had paired the two of you for a school project and you had decided Eddie was a worthy friend.
He didn't even know how in the world you had anything in common in the first place.
But you always took him by surprise. He didn't even think it was possible for someone like you to feel so familiar with what was in his room the first time you stepped in it. And he certainly didn't expect you to look at all his tape collection with wide eyes and watch as you excitedly pointed to almost all of them adding an 'oh my god you listen to that too?', or 'this is one of my favorites!' and he'd watch as you'd ask permission to put said tape in his player and turn up the volume.
Needless to say, Eddie knew you had been sent from heaven right this moment.
Or maybe you were sent from hell, destined to torment him. For him to fall helplessly in love with you just to never get a chance.
But you liked him back right?
"God, I wish I could join hellfire." You blinked and turned to him. "I wish I could play an elf too. I have so many ideas for my character..."
"I wish you could too, princess"
And that marked the end of a perfect evening with you.
You would go back to your house, take a shower and wash your uniform in poor attempt to hide that you had been smoking. You would make yourself something to eat and do your homework, reminiscing of how off being in the cheer squad started to feel.
Your friends felt faker and faker by the second, dancing in a green skirt and pom poms didn't feel right anymore, it didn't feel like you.
That morning, Eddie came to school with his intention set. A poorly written speech of what he wanted to tell you crumpled in his jacket pocket.
He felt nervous ever since he woke up with the thought that this was the day. This was it. He would ask you on a date today, and he would jump into the potential abyss of ruining your perfect friendship or finally being able to call you his.
It took him some serious pep talk and maybe even a bit of weed for courage. But he was determined to meet with you in the woods like you usually did if you wanted to talk during school hours. He would sit you down and offer you half of his Twix bar 'how romantic' he thought, and once a comfortable silence had fallen between you, he would try and see if his mouth would let him let the words out.
He would try to tell you how wonderful you made him feel, or every little detail about you that made him go crazy. Explain to you how his heart did flips and butterflies flew into his stomach when he was with you. He would ask you out, maybe even let it slip out that Hellfire needed a queen.
But exactly when he was heading to your locker to slip in the small 'meet me in the woods at lunch' note: he saw you.
His face fell.
Your hair was tied with a green ribbon, a bright smile plastered on your face as you spoke with Chad.
He closed his eyes and breathed out through his nose as his world began to crumble around him.
He was the real-life version of a Ken doll. Perfect brown hair that would make Steve jealous if he was still in school, a pearly white grin that made Eddie's stomach twist, and crystal blue eyes.
He was everything Eddie wasn't. He was a jock, probably had perfect grades, money, and everything else Eddie hadn't. Everything he lacked that you deserved in someone.
The way you smiled as your conversation went on was enough for him to back away and throw the poor little piece of paper in the trash. He tried to burn out of his mind the image of him leaning in towards you, his arm leaning on the wall beside you, blatantly flirting with you.
He walked in the opposite direction, realizing that he didn't deserve you. You were far too high in the Hawkins High food chain to even consider dating a guy like him. How could he have been so stupid?
But you made him high on love. High on the hope that you could be an item. So lost in his love for you that he was brought back to reality the harsh way.
You needed someone like Chad. Someone with a good reputation and who don't take rides in the back of police cars on regular basis.
You might have similar taste in music and common interests, but that was about it. The only reason you were even friends with Eddie in the first place was because of your similar tastes in music, but your social circles weren't compatible. He felt like a fool to even think he could have a chance.
He felt enough like a fool, he didn't need the pain in his heart to become worst by having you around, even if the look in your eyes every time he canceled your plans only stung worst.
Three weeks into his poor cover-ups and attempts to push you away and he only felt miserable. No amount of Ozzy or Dio was enough to forget the pain. No amount of times he would attempt to drown himself in the new Metallica album as he tried to learn the chords on his guitar could attempt to heal the you shaped hole in his heart.
He watched from the far end of the hellfire table. You looked perfect as always, but what he hadn't realized was that something was off. You had trouble eating and didn't find sleep easily lately. The thoughts of what you could have potentially done wrong for Eddie to act so distant with you munching at your stomach.
But obviously, he didn't see it. He couldn't see it. You would hide behind your perfect cheer uniform and constant fake smiles.
But even if someone could see the pain hidden behind these smiles, Eddie would refuse to believe he had been the cause. In his mind, he was simply a useless passing villager in your game of life. He thought of himself to be like one of the background characters he invented for his campaigns.
Boy if only he knew how wrong he was...
On the second day of the third week, you decided you had enough.
If Eddie was going to ignore you, you at least needed a reason. Something to justify the pang in your heart each time your eyes landed on him.
So you held your books a little tighter in your hand, your pink nails gripping them tighter as you made your way out of the cafeteria. You watched from a distance as Eddie spoke with one of his fellow hellfire member while walking towards his locker.
The bell rang and as usual, Eddie didn't move. He took his time, stuffing his drug-filled lunch box into his locker before trying to sort out through the mess of stray paper and notes he might need for the afternoon.
You closed your own locker, telling your friend that you needed to do something before class so she'd leave you alone.
The hallway fell empty apart from Eddie who hadn't noticed your presence. If he hadn't ignored you, maybe you would have smiled at the way he was figuring out what his own handwriting was saying. You would have cracked a joke about how he was muttering to himself. Something about this not being the note he was searching for before tucking it back behind the mass of unorganized notebooks.
Eddie didn't expect to see your face when he closed his locker. You had made your way to him right as he pocketed the scribbling he had done for history and tucked his 4 colored pen behind his ear.
"You're ignoring me" You stated.
He was staring right at you with his big brown eyes, mouth half opened.
God, he wanted to run away. You being so close to him while he was trying to bury his feelings felt intoxicating.
"No I haven't"
"Yes, you have." He watched as your face fell a little, more pieces of his heart shattering in the process. "Have I done something wrong?" The way you frowned was overwhelming. "I promise I didn't mean to."
He had to close his eyes to stop himself from wanting to rip his hair out or cry.
You were blaming yourself, for something that was all him.
"Y/n, of course not- you could never do anything wrong-"
"Then why are you ignoring me" Your tone might have seemed firm but he could tell the way your voice wavered.
You were hurt.
And it was all his fault.
He sighed and managed to meet your eyes again.
"Because I'm not good enough for you Y/n." You blinked.
"I'm not good enough for you!" He lifted his voice a bit. "Y/n- you're- you're perfect. It's as if god had taken everything that's just perfect and made you- and then there's me, who is everything but perfect. A freak who was apparently meant to fall for someone he cannot have." He rambled. "Because Y/n" He looked into your eyes, a look so intense it almost gave you chills. "You're a queen, and I’m just your joker. And The Joker cannot fall in love with the queen of Gotham, she deserves Batman, the handsome Bruce Wayne. Not the madman."
You swallowed as you realized this was a love confession. Eddie was rambling on about how he reciprocated your feelings but thought you could never. How low he was talking about himself made your heart ache and anger bubble at the pit of your stomach for all those bullies at Hawkins high. Because your Eddie deserved the world, and he most definitely deserved someone like you. He even deserved the entire of Gotham to be at his feet.
"Harley Quinn is his queen." You took a step closer to him. "Her and the Joker made a pretty good pair the last time I checked."
Eddie felt the air pull out of his lungs as you spoke, his brain attempting to comprehend.
"What do you mean?" He breathed out, watching you get even closer to him.
"Let me be your Harley." You brushed his hand, making goosebumps travel up his arm. His fingers slowly interlaced with yours, eyes getting glossy. "I might be the Queen of Gotham, but I'm far from wanting a Batman."
Before he could blink again, you were already on your tip toes leaning in for a kiss. You were already lowering yourself back to your normal height before Eddie registered what happened.
But when he did, his lips were on yours again - chasing for the kiss he had been dying to steal from you.
Eddie thought his brain was overheating. Not even 10 minutes ago he thought every chance he had with you had been long gone, sunk deep into lovers lake with the other broken romances and unrequited loves.
But there he was, kissing the girl of his dreams in the middle of a school hallway.
"So, I'm really perfect?" You smirked as you pulled away from the kiss just for Eddie to chase your lips again, muttering 'Yes' in between kisses.
Eddie finally pulled away when the information had fully registered
"How in the world do you like me back?" He blinked in disbelief.
"Because you're perfect?" He shook his head no. "your perfect for me Eddie." you leaned in again. "Even if you don't believe it- you are"
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meganlpie · 6 months ago
Based on this request: If your requests are still open, is it possible to have a fic with Legolas and he introduces you to the Fellowship, as his girlfriend/wife. Everyone is surprised. Please and thank you.
Here you go! As always, the LotR characters are NOT mine! They belong to Tolkien.
Warnings: Pure sweet fluff pretty much.
Pairings: Legolas x wife!reader
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You paced. Oh how you paced. Your husband had been gone for far too long at this point. You were certain you were driving your husband's father insane. Thranduil was not exactly a patient man even though he loved Legolas and you more than anyone else. And your incessant worry and anxiety was driving him up the wall.
"Y/N, my son will return. You mustn't fret so." You nodded, but resumed wringing your hands, making him sigh. "Why don't you travel to Imladris? Legolas will surely be there before he returns home." You stopped, wondering why you hadn't thought of that before. You grinned and thanked him before running off to pack for your journey.
*time skip*
You slid from your horse. Your legs were exhausted from riding, but had pushed yourself to make it Imladris in record time. Something told you you'd be seeing Legolas sooner rather than later and you couldn't wait. You had been parted from him for longer than you ever wanted be. Yes, elves lived long lives, but that didn't mean you had to like it.
You were greeted by Lord Elrond's steward Lindir. "Has there been any word, Mellon?" you asked and he gave you a smile. "It is not for me to say, Princess. Lord Elrond will inform you of everything you need to know." You ducked your head at the use of your title. You hardly used it around Mirkwood. The servants did, of course, but you didn't care for it. Still, being married to the Prince of the Woodland Realm technically made you a princess now.
"Very well. If he is free, I'd like to see Lord Elrond." Lindir wasted no time taking you see the ruler of Imladris. Elrond greeted you with a smile that told you he was hiding something. "Hello, Y/N. It is lovely to see you." You greeted him in kind, but couldn't help but to ask, "Is he here, Elrond? Has he returned?" Elrond gestured for you to follow him.
You heard his voice before you saw him. He was out in one of the many gardens, dressed in all white. His back was to you so he didn't realize you were there as he was engaged in conversation. It was the dwarf sitting beside Aragorn that noticed you first.
"We have company," his gruff voice announced as Elrond made his retreat. Legolas turned to face you and his eyes widened for a moment. "Legolas," you breathed out, unable to stop yourself. In an instant, he was in front of you, his arms wrapped around you. "Melamin, what are you doing here?" You let his rest his forehead against yours. "I missed you…Well in truth, your father sent me. I do believe I would have driven him to madness with my worries if he hadn't."
Legolas let out a laugh before gently kissing your forehead. Aragorn cleared his throat. Of all the people in the garden, only he knew who you were to the fair-haired elf in your arms. "Mellon, it is good to see you," he declared, rising to greet you properly. "I think we missed something," one of the hobbits commented. "Ah, yes. Allow me to introduce the Princess Y/N of the Woodland Realm. Legolas' wife," Aragorn did the honors.
"WIFE?!" a chorus of voices responded nearly making you jump. "You did not tell them, Melamin? I'm hurt." Legolas rolled his eyes. He was used to your dramatics. His father was far worse. "My apologies. I supposed I wished to keep you to myself a little longer." Your gaze softened. "I suppose you are forgiven then." You pulled completely away from him to address the group gazing at you in wonder.
"I should like to know you all. I assume you are who my husband was traveling with. I want to hear everything for he tells me nothing. He fears I worry too much." Legolas arched a brow. "You do worry too much. You said so only a moment ago." You shushed him as the group began telling you everything.
"You truly had this competition going the entire journey?" you asked the dwarf, Gimli, who chuckled as he sharpened his axe. "Aye. He lost." Legolas muttered something about how it was an even tie. "While I do not doubt your skills, Master Dwarf, I sincerely doubt my husband was anything less than his best self." Gimli's cheeks turned pink, but he nodded making you laugh once more.
Legolas watched as you spoke with the people he had grown so close to over the months he'd been traveling. He watched how the setting sun seemed to illuminate the strands of hair the wind decided to blow. He watched how the corners of your eyes crinkled with laughter and how they shone bright with tears when listening to certain tales from the journey.
As he observed you, Legolas realized how lucky he was to have you. Even through this uncertain time, when the world you knew could have ended, you were there for him. He carried you in his heart always. You were waiting for him to return and even came so far as to meet him just to see him before he could return to Mirkwood. You helped him when his duties to his realm grew to be too much and it was you who helped him reconcile with his father.
You met his gaze and smiled. Legolas returned it knowing that you and he would soon have all the time in the world together. You would return to Mirkwood together and begin your life again, perhaps even start a family. Legolas didn't know what would happen next, but he knew in that moment when your eyes met his that he needed you. He loved you. In fact, he was certain he couldn't love more even if he tried. You were his home. His friend. The love of his life. His wife.
(a/n: I hope you like it!)
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Tolkien Tags: @jotink78 @wanderinglittlefangirl @thealbersclan @justcallmecinammon @evyiione @legolaslovely
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harrysweasleys · 6 months ago
bringer of bets and drinks // l.g
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summary: hi!!! can i please request a one shot with legolas where it’s after helms deep and you’re at the party with the rohirrim and everything and he’s jealous of how close you are with eomer? Thank you!!! 
warnings: alcohol, blood, mentions of death
word count: 2.7k
a/n: aaaaaaah this was so fun. also i rewrote it like seventeen times because i had no clue what direction i wanted this to go in so i hope i made the right call and that you guys love it!! ALSO this is a “haldir lives AU”<3 (gif credit to @thrcnduils)
[i do not give permission for my work to be responded on any other platform.]
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“By my count, there were at least seventy!”
“I never thought I’d ever use a shield as a weapon, but did this one ever come in handy!”
As you walked through the grand hall where the celebratory feast was taking place, your ears naturally picked up on the stories that were being told all around you. Men who had risked their lives to save others, young boys who had perished and some that had survived. 
Helm’s Deep had been brutal. Were it not for Gandalf and the Rohirrim, you doubted Aragorn and Théoden’s will would have lasted the night. Your heart had endured a lot, but the fear that was struck in you from the moment the battle began to the moment you saw that Legolas was alive and well, that was a feeling you wished you’d never have to experience again. 
He had promised — sworn to you — that he’d be back. That you’d get to see him again. You knew how elves kept their words to their dying breath. And you just hoped to the Valar that this wasn’t going to be the case. 
Lucky for you, it wasn’t. You had practically charged at him when you saw him afterwards, not even caring about the smeared blood and dirt on his face. He was alive. 
People were celebrating left and right, drinking ale and telling stories of lost loved ones. Some were thankful for the victory, choosing to look at the lighter side of events; one victory closer to defeating the shadow of the world. And some held trauma in their eyes — trauma that you strongly believed young children shouldn’t have to endure. 
And some people chose to have drinking competitions. 
“Is this a good idea? Gimli, I’m sure you’re aware of how the House or Oropher handles their liquor. Is this one you think you’re going to win?” you asked, seated across the table from the dwarf. Legolas, off to your left, held a small smile on his face as he stared at the barrel of ale. Honestly, you had no shred of doubt that he could drink the whole barrel and not feel a thing. And it would be ridiculously impressive to watch. 
Eomer chuckled from next to you, already ready to start pouring as much as he could for the two competitors across from him. Despite how awful his last few days had been, Eomer was in quite a chipper mood tonight. He had survived as well, with his uncle and sister here to celebrate with him too. 
“Bring it on, then,” Gimli ignored you, “I, tonight, am representing the pride of all dwarves.”
You turned to Eomer, giving him a small shrug. He gave you one back and grabbed two of the closest mugs he could find, pouring each of them a full glass of ale. 
Peering over at Legolas, you gave him a reassuring smile. It was really not the time to notice, but you scanned your eyes across his features. His eyes were soft, hair brushed and smooth. His silk robe caught the light of the dancing flames in the room, flickering and swirling in the movement of the crowd. He looked too perfect for someone who had just survived battle. 
“Alright, no pauses, no spills,” Eomer handed both men their drinks, leaning against the barrel next to you. 
You held back a chuckle as Legolas stared at his, raising an eyebrow. You knew he was used to his father’s fancy wine – in fact, Legolas probably grew up on wine – but ale? It wasn’t really his thing. He took a sniff from the cup and pursed his lips, probably already dreading this whole thing. 
“And no regurgitation!” Gimli muttered before he brought the drink to his lips and began to chug right away. The sounds he was making were quite gross, and you had to hold back a laugh at the foam that was already collecting on his beard.
“You’ve got this, Legolas,” you turned to the elf, who hadn’t taken a sip yet, “If you can slide down a staircase on a shield, I think you can beat a dwarf to a little drinking game.” You shot him a quick wink, and he let out a chuckle, bringing the cup closer to his lips. 
And with that, the game was on. 
The two of them were drinking at a nearly dizzying pace, and you had completely lost track of how long it had been or how many pints they had each gone through by now. People around you were gathering, laughing and raising their glasses whenever one of them would finish another. Eomer was kept rather occupied by the constant refilling, to the point where you could only really keep basic conversation. 
That was, until…
“Bets?” His voice was close to your ear as he handed Legolas another mug. The elf hesitated before taking another sip, eyes darting between you and the blond next to you before he continued going.
“Oh, Legolas, hands down,” you whispered back with a grin, turning to face him. He was now seated next to you, figuring he might be standing for a while before this whole thing was over. 
“Part of me thinks the Dwarf might win,” Eomer chuckled, now handing Gimli – who had just let out quite the burp – his next one, “I’ve heard tales of how the Erebor dwarves can drink wine-filled rivers and remain on their feet.”
“Hear, hear, it’s the Dwarves that go swimming with little, hairy women,” the dwarf chuckled to himself before downing his next pint. He seemed so out of it by now, you were shocked he was still standing. Or, sitting, technically. Maybe you’d win this bet. You had no clue where Eomer had heard his tales, but they were about to be proven wrong tonight. 
“Alright, it’s on, then,” you grinned to Eomer, bumping your shoulder against his. Gimli was soaked, drips of ale down his beard and foam across his face. His eyes were slightly crossed and he was belching like mad – how could he win? You faced Legolas, giving him a small thumbs up. The elf looked rather unfazed, not a single drop of ale on his chin and his posture still straight and proper. He didn’t even seem to be affected in the slightest.
You looked around at the table, each of them having nearly drunk ten full mugs by now. The difference between them was quite amusing. 
“I think I’m beginning to feel something,” Legolas’ soft voice caught your attention, snapping your eyes upwards, “A slight tingle in my fingers. I think it’s affecting me.” Nearly twelve refills down and he had just begun to start feeling it. 
Eomer’s eyebrows shot up at the elf’s words, and you let out a small laugh. 
“You really are something else, Legolas,” you were utterly disgusted by the whole situation, but the fact that he was bound to win made it seem a tad better. 
He didn’t reply, placing his now-empty mug down on the wooden tabletop instead. 
“Eh, what did I say?” Gimli belched out, finishing his own mug as well, “He can’t hold his liquor.”
And that was the last thing he said before his eyes rolled back into his head, his body falling backwards and off of his stool. The people who were watching erupted in laughter, clinking drinks together as if they, too, had made bets. 
“Game over,” Legolas gave a small shrug, not even bothering to take a sip of the newly filled ale that Eomer had poured. 
“Ha!” you stood up, nudging the Rohirrim warrior in the shoulder, “Now you owe me something.”
Eomer chuckled, placing his hands up in surrender, “A drink then, my lady?”
You turned to face the table, pointing to all of the empty mugs, “After watching that, I never want to smell, taste, or look at ale again,” you eyed Gimli’s unconscious body, “But maybe since you seemed to be so supportive of the dwarf, you can deal with taking care of him. That’ll be your end of the bet.”
He shook his head, letting out a laugh, “That, I can tell you, is not happening.”
“I can’t blame you there.” 
You felt a hand on your lower back, and you turned your attention over to Legolas, who had rather quickly made his way across the table to stand by your side. You weren’t sure why he was holding onto you, but you revelled in the feeling of his warm hand through the silk of your gown. Eowyn had lent it to you for the evening, and you shamefully almost didn’t want to give it back. It was rather lovely and comfortable.
“I guess I owe you congratulations, eh?” you grinned at him, trying your best to speak up over the growing voices around you. He was close to you, closer than you initially thought. And he looked so radiant, despite the smell of the liquor on his breath.
“And I owe you one of these,” Eomer interrupted your moment – bless him – and handed you a mug of ale. 
You gave a disgusted shake of your head and frowned, pushing your body against Legolas without meaning to, “Absolutely not.” The whole hall smelled of the alcohol and you were sure you’d find yourself nauseous if you took even a single sip.
“Are you sure?” Eomer asked again, raising an eyebrow before bringing the mug near his own lips. You let out a laugh, knowing he was only kidding around. 
Legolas’ hand gave your waist a squeeze, “I think she said she doesn’t want any.” Whatever tone of amusement he had held during his drinking game seemed to have vanished, and you were honestly clueless as to why he had sudden hostility.
Eomer held his hand up in surrender and took a sip of the drink, turning away once he heard the sound of someone shouting his name. You didn’t get the chance to say anything to him before he vanished in the crowd, causing you to turn to Legolas with furrowed eyebrows.
“I think you scared him away,” you narrowed your eyes, his hand no longer on your waist as you turned to face him, “He was only messing around, you didn’t have to stand up for me.”
Legolas seemed to have forgotten all about his drinking game and Gimli’s groaning body on the floor. His eyes scanned your face, and down to your hands where his own warm ones came to embrace yours. 
“I’ll always stand up for you,” he said softly, one of his fingers running along the back of your hand. You were thrown off by the way he was acting, but not in a bad way. Legolas had always been protective of you — extra caring around you. It was one of the reasons you had fallen stupidly hard for him. 
“And I really do appreciate that, you know I do,” you replied, giving a small tilt of your head, “But I highly doubt I need help with Eomer.”
He pursed his lips, eyes focused on your intertwined hands. He hadn’t looked at you and you were wondering what was going on in that pretty head of his. 
“Hey, Legolas, what’s wrong?” you nudged, one of your hands under his chin so he could finally face you. His eyes held no giveaway, still blue and gorgeous as ever. He was sometimes complicated to read — he’d speak in little riddles or he’d divert the topic to avoid expressing his feelings. You were usually the only one who could fully read him, but that was failing you right now. 
“It scares me sometimes,” he admitted, “The fact that I’m not the only one in the room who thinks you’re beautiful.”
You weren't sure what you were expecting him to say, but it definitely wasn’t that. Your breath stuttered in your chest as you blinked rapidly.
“What?” you were half expecting him to start laughing, to tell you he was playing a joke, “Do you actually think that?”
He nodded, the movement so subtle you almost missed it. Sure, the elf was hard to read sometimes, but you could tell with near certainty that he wasn’t jesting. 
“I don’t think you need to worry,” you broke the momentary silence, inching towards him and gently wrapping your arms around his neck, a new wave of confidence washing over you at his words. Legolas seemed to lean into the gesture — he may be nearly ancient in age but you of all people knew how touch-starved he was — and made sure he looked at you, “People can stare, or gawk, or offer invitations all they want. At the end of the night, there’s only one person who really catches my attention. And he happens to be tall, pointy eared, blond, and quite sharp with a bow.”
The tips of Legolas’s ears seemed to heat up as he gave you a wide grin. 
“Oh, and it’s not Haldir,” you chuckled as Legolas inched a tad closer, the space between the two of your bodies nearly non-existent. He was impossibly warm, which was odd. But it was hard not to be a few degrees warmer considering the amount of ale in his body combined with the fact that you were all in an enclosed, crowded space.
“You should have told me earlier,” he whispered, and you were able to hear him, as if the crowd around you had died off and vanished from earshot, “meleth-nîn.”
He almost sounded nervous saying the nickname, but did it ever send butterflies roaring in your chest. You felt as if they were fluttering up and down your legs, causing you to feel light on your feet. 
“I would have if I knew you felt the same,” you sighed, leaning into his hand which was now on your cheek. He was about to reply but he was cut off by a loud groan and the squeaking wood of the bench behind him. 
“Aye, aye,” Gimli began to sat up — in all honesty you nearly forgot he was there in the heat of the moment— and looked over at the two of you, “Aren’t you glad he drank all that ale? Thought the elf would never confess. You, over there, pay up.”
Eomer, who had previously vanished into the party, came back with a mug and a small bag of coins. You furrowed your eyebrows and glanced between the dwarf and the Rohirrim soldier, the two dots finally connecting.
“Oh, you’ve got to be joking,” you scoffed as Eomer handed Gimli the bag of coins, giving you a sheepish grin.
He shrugged, “It was obvious to all but you two. So, naturally, everyone placed bets.”
You thought back to the subtle hints Aragorn would throw your way, the jokes Gimli would make when you and Legolas would sit awfully close and whisper to one another, the hints Boromir would make about the different ways that elves show affection. It all made sense now. Of course they all knew. They were some of the wisest people in Middle Earth. And you were rather stupid.
Legolas let out a small laugh and clasped his hand on Eomer’s shoulder, “Forgive me. I had misunderstood your previous intentions.”
Eomer shook his head, “There is nothing to forgive. Believe me, I have seen a fair share of men follow in my sister’s steps, I can recognize a love-struck look when I see one.”
With a wink, Eomer tipped his drink in your direction and once again, disappeared into the crowd. He was no small man, so you were left wondering how his shape would leave your vision so quickly. He just kept coming and going.
“Well,” you turned to Legolas, “I suppose neither of us have been as sneaky with our feelings as we thought.” He nodded in agreement, the little smile never leaving his lips.
With a link of your hands, he pulled you close once more, “Would you do me the honour of accompanying me for a walk, meleth-nîn?”
You leaned up onto your tip toes, still feeling that new found confidence, and pressed a light kiss to his cheek, “I’d love nothing more.”
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whateverrr-duddee · 3 months ago
𝐖𝐚𝐫 𝐎𝐟 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐬
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pairing: legolas x reader
warnings: fluff! a tiny bit of angst
summary: After the battle of the ring, the only female member of the fellowship (lord Elronds daughter) is to be married off as her father wishes. A ball is held to seek the husband her father approves of. Little to his knowledge she fell in love with a elf boy on her adventure.
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The fellowship were very close. They had been through so much it was impossible not to be. But, You and Legolas had a different type of relationship compared to yours and Aragorns sibling like love. Legolas made your heart stutter and your head explode. That night after the mines he confessed his feelings for you. You were both inseparable since. But now here you were in a undeniably beautiful gown waiting to be find a elf or man to be married off too. Unlike Arwen you didn’t find it easy to love. Arwen and Aragorn fell in love a long time ago. You never knew what the hype was about the love she spoke of until you met him. Legolas Greenleaf Prince of Mirkwood.
“Be quiet pippin she’s going to come out any minute” Sam told his fellow Hobbit as himself and the remaining members of the fellowship stood in the ballroom of Rivendell. “Can’t she be left to find her own love” merry piped in. “Lord Elrond in his eyes has already lost one daughter he fears to loose the other” Gandalf spoke as Aragorn looked down guiltily. Arwen smiles fondly at him as Legolas put a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “I hope she finds a man who will treat her right” Legolas said quietly. Aragorn looking at him sadly. Aragorn knew of the longing Legolas now felt towards her. The only one who knew the full exoten of how much their love ran in the hearts for the one another.
“Please Welcome, Princess Y/N Undómiel of Rivendell” the guardsman spoke. you took a deep breathe As the doors flew open you walked in. You walked over to your father. “Let the Ball begin” he said everyone cheered as the music started began playing.
You felt as if you had been dancing for hours. Boring Elves and Brooding Men. You decided to take a small break and sit down. Your sister sat next to you. “How are you my lend er?” Arwen spoke . You gave her a small smile “i’m okay, it feels like i have been dancing for hours”Arwen softly chuckes “it’s not even been two hours yet”. You sighed. “Im going to miss this” you spoke. She knew of what you spoke. In a few decades she would be gone forever. unlucky decades felt like but months for elves. “do not dwell, if i can advise you on something sometimes you have to put your wants before Ada’s” you looked at her confused as she walked off.
You got up and danced with a few men. Darin the current one was. “You fought in the battle of the ring?” he asked although it sounded more like a statement you hummed in response. “battle is no place for a woman. Womens bodys should be kept sacred not contorted scared from battles they are not made to fight” that was a kick in the teeth. You had a few scars littering your body from the battle. you had decided to leave this conversation and dance with another leaving Darin and his horrid views alone with his ego.
“excuse me, may i?” you heard a all time familiar voice come from behind you. The elf you were dancing with looked startled and immediately nodded and let go of you and let him hold you. As you felt his arms around you waist your body felt tingly. “Hello” he whiskers as you put your arms around his neck and his on your waist “what you doing?” you asked. He gave you a queasy expression. “doing something i needed a lot of courage for” he chucked nervously. “I hate this” your showed looking in his eyes. “i know, i saw you looking incredulous bored by Calan” he spoke softly. you laughed. for the first time tonight. “ Cin thír urethral nin gilgalad” the heat rose to your cheeks with that comment. you instinctively hid your face in his chest. the hobbits were used to seeing the tough and serious side of legolas so seing him being so gentle and carefree was refreshing. “you look amazing your self” he did he was clad in a icy blue tunic with a gorgeous head bands in his perfect white hair. “i want to be the one you marry nin mel” your head shot up as he spoke “i want to be the one you wake up to everyone morning, i want to be the father of your child, i want to be the one to get you through the hard days and the nightmare that i know you think i don’t know about” you started into his cerulean eyes. trying to see if he was lying. he wasn’t. you smiled, and looked over to Arwen who lowered her head and smiled. you whipped into his ear “do something about it then. you went to walk away when you felt his hand spin you back into his embraces your back against his chest. his arms on your waist. his breathe on your neck sending a shiver down your spine. “we will do the dance then” he smirked.
It was tradition at these events that the eleth or elf and the chosen do a dance to signify the union.You knew this would not only anger king Thranduil but your father aswell and most of the elleths and elves as you two were the most desirable of all.
his arms found their way to your waist again and span you around so you were facing him it took a while for the money it signified that you were doing thr sacred dance to hit people you knew when you heard gandalf smile and say “they are finishing the dance”. He dipped you the. lifted you up into the air slowly being you down as he stared into your y/e/c eyes. His lips felt like the missing puzzle piece this was in no means your first kiss but everytime you kissed Legolas it felt like it. He rested his forehead on yours as his hands wandered in your y/h/c hair and yours on his chest. “ Im mel cin” you said in almost a whisper he soundly have caught if if not for his elf enchanted hearing. He rand his covered over your ears sending a wave of sensitivity over you causing you to sigh. “ Im mel cin too nin princess”
Lend er     = sweet one
Ada = Father
Cin thír urethral nin gilgalad = you look urethral my starlight
Nin mel= my love
Im mel cin = i love you
Im mel cin too nin princess= i love you too princes
A/N: please leave suggestions!
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weezlbot · 2 months ago
What your LOTR/Hobbit/Silm ship says about you
Sam/Frodo: Canon? What canon? All you see is two guys in love. You probably had a yaoi phase. Either that or you’re gay. 
Sam/Rosie: You love cottagecore. 
Gimli/Legolas: You stan a short king and like hair. Head or body. 
Gimli/Galadriel: You have a muscle girl kink and a chivalry kink too
Celeborn/Galadriel: You like to see men get pegged and you have a muscle girl kink
Aragorn/Arwen: It’s all about the yearning for you. You also unironically enjoy romance novels. 
Aragorn/Eowyn: You want a man to “rescue” you and solve all your problems
Faramir/Eowyn: You’re a big fan of the “making out won’t help but it won’t hurt” trope.
Merry/Eowyn: You want a girl who’s much taller than you. 
Merry/Estella: You have a crush on Merry, and wish it were you who was marrying him
Pippin/Diamond of Long Cleeve: You have a crush on Pippin
Merry/Pippin: You have a crush on both of them. You also love the “childhood friends to lovers” trope.
Aragorn/Legolas: You want to make out with both of them, but you can’t, so you make them make out with each other
Glorfindel/Erestor: You had a crush on Glorfindel the moment you read about him in FOTR, and since you couldn’t have him, you shipped him with the first background Rivendellian you saw. You also like gold and maroon as a color scheme.
Elrond/Celebrian: You long to be parented, hugged and cuddled
Elrond/Lindir, Elrond/Erestor, Elrond/Glorfindel, Elrond/Other: You just want to be subservient to Elrond, or have him take care of you
The Hobbit: 
Bard/Thranduil: Honestly, this is the same as Aralas, but you also like DILFs. 
Thranduil/his wife: You love Thranduil and Legolas too, and you saw that “elves only marry once” thing and treated it as law. Either that, or you wish it was you who got to marry Thranduil. 
Legolas/Tauriel: You can’t see Legolas as gay, and if the movies implied it, it’s good enough for you. It’s his only interaction with a elleth (she-elf) anyway. 
Tauriel/Kili: Canon? What canon? He lived, guys, I saw him yesterday
Thorin/Bilbo: You love the “jerk with a heart of gold” trope
Bilbo/Bofur: You like Bofur more than Thorin. You love a man with a good sense of humor.
Dwalin/Ori: You like ships with an age difference, and probably a height difference too
The Silmarillion/Unfinished Tales:
Maedhros/Fingon: You’re gay, or you have a caretaking kink, or both. 
Feanor/Nerdanel: You’re an unattractive woman, and you want an attractive man. Or you have a breeding kink. 
Melkor/Sauron: You find it hard to enjoy characters who aren’t completely fucking unhinged. There’s a 75% chance you’re gay, too. 
Sauron/Celebrimbor: You’re a huge sucker for angst. Either that, or you like it for the same reasons that the Angbang shippers like Angbang. You’re somewhat less likely to be gay but there’s still a chance. 
Tuor/Idril: You like blonds. And the “making out won’t help but it won’t hurt” trope. And power couples. 
Sauron/Eonwe: You loooove angst, as well as the “being on opposite sides of the same war” trope
Manwe/Varda: You like dominant women. You generally view authority very favorably. 
Yavanna/Aule: The best part of the relationship, for you, are the arguments
Osse/Uinen: You’re pretty sure you can fix him
Tulkas/Nessa: You get off to athletic competitions
Orome/Vana: You prefer your women virginal, or your men experienced
Mandos/Vaire: You cried with joy when MCR returned 
Irmo/Este: You have a stuffed animal collection
Melian/Thingol: If you’re a female, you’re morosexual. If you’re male, you’re sapiosexual.
Beren/Luthien: You won’t engage with any media that doesn’t have a happy ending. You’ve created several hundred Mary Sues over the years. 
Dior/Nimloth: You saw that description of Dior as unusually attractive and your mind went places
Earendil/Elwing: Your favorite angst trope is “unprepared young parent”
Finwe/Miriel: You’re a rabid Feanor supporter, or you just have a stepmother you hate.
Finwe/Indis: Your favorite trope is “old, saddened widower learns to love again.”
Finarfin/Earwen: Galadriel and/or Finrod are your favorite Finweans, and you like family feels
Caranthir/Haleth: You wish it were the male who got to be ethereally beautiful for a change
Aredhel/Eol: You masturbate to yandere animes
Aldarion/Erendis: Your only example of romance was your parents, who hated each other
Beleg/Turin: You have a devotion kink, you like angst, and you like to think you can fix problematic men
Glorfindel/Ecthelion: Same as Glorfindel/Erestor, but you prefer the Silm to LOTR.
Hurin/Morwen: Emotional reunions are your jam. You looooove angst.
Glorfindel/Maeglin: You have daddy issues and wish a man would come in and take care of all your problems
Eowyn/Arwen: You had your sexual awakening to lesbian porn. Either that, or you’re so into women that you can’t appreciate men that way.
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spxllcxstxr · 27 days ago
How Each Member of the Fellowship Takes Care of Their S/O with a Chronic Illness • Headcanon
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(Gif not mine)
Request: Could you perhaps make a list or some Headcanons about which LOTR and The Hobbit characters would be the best at taking care of a chronically ill s/o? Or would enjoy having that kind of significant other the most? — @tolkien-fantasy
Warnings: I don’t have a chronic illness, so this is all based on like research and knowledge I got from living with my friend at college so it might be a bit inaccurate/different and for that I’m sorry, I did keep it a bit vague though so... this takes place before the events of lotr
A.N: I swear to god Gandalf is more platonic jlwnljw, I typed “each member” and “s/o” without even thinking about Gandalf’s inclusion lmao, gn!reader, I hope this is done and written well!!
Immediately consults ancient texts to try to find a cure or at least some way to help alleviate the pain or make it easier to go about your day
Because that makes it so he can’t stay in one place for too long, he brings you to Rivendell
There, Elrond and other healers try to help you, and Gandalf tries to visit often
Even if he doesn’t find anything new, he’ll bring you books and maps and other things to keep you entertained
He sits by your bedside often
Let’s you borrow his staff as a walking stick if it’s hard for you to walk, shows you some magic to keep your spirits up
Gandalf genuinely thinks of you as his child and he hates to see you in pain
“I will forever be by your side, dear child, I will help you every step of the way,”
Aragorn will also bring you to Rivendell
Gives you soft kisses to your forehead every morning before locking himself in the healing chambers with Elrond to find a way to help you
Is so excited when he finds something that may help you even a little bit
When you want him to just sit and relax with you he gladly relents
Loves sitting in the gardens with you, basking in the sunlight
When he goes in his adventures throughout Middle Earth he’ll always send letters back to you, mostly describing the land that he knows you wish you could see for yourself
On particularly bad days he’ll pull you close to him and he’ll murmur elven songs to you or tell you stories of ancient battles
“My love I am here.”
As the son of the Steward of Gondor, he makes sure your shared quarters are perfection for you
The finest bedding, blankets, making sure everything is within reach of you
Even has a balcony close by for you
He loves sitting there with you, watching the sunset, fingers intertwined on the table top
Will not consult the elves, but has all of the finest healers in Gondor helping you, finding methods that may help your aches and pains
Keeps a guard with you at all times when you go out just in case something happens
You become great friends with other wives of other lords of the lands, and they are such great fun and a great distraction from everything when Boromir is gone
Boromir loves stroking your cheek at night as he whispers to you
“I love you (Y/n). I am so sorry you hurt, I wish I could take all the pain from you.”
Oh he totally panics
The bond you share is so intense that he really hates it when you’re in pain, he feel so helpless
But he stays so strong for you
Gets the finest healers, finest herbs for you, learns ways to help you from healers
Anything you need you get, Legolas is a Prince, and he will not rest while you ache
Likes taking small strolls through the Greenwood with you
Picks flowers, has picnics, even reads to you out in the light
Is basically at your command, whatever you need him to do, he’ll gladly do it
“Meleth nîn, how can I help you today?”
The dwarf can be gentle when he needs to be
He too brings healers
But Gimli is more adept to make the mountains more accessible to you
Ramps, hand rails, even a makeshift wheelchair when you need it
Gimli is here to help you live your life and his craftsmanship is primarily focused on you
But in helping you, he helps many that live in the mountain
On your bad days he’ll sit with you, with precious gems and he’ll tell you the tales on how he found them deep in the mines
His heart is with you
“You’re resilient, laddie, you’ll pull through”
Frodo will try so hard to help, but the Shire is very limited in medicinal skills
He loves taking you to the most relaxing spots to read in the shade of a tree or to dip your feet in the Brandywine 
Bilbo will also be helping out of course, you’re family at this point
The two of you help him with his writing and even start writing your own
Frodo would love to go on an adventure, and while you may not be up to going on one with him, the two of you can pretend
So many nights are spent by the fire, the two of you huddled close together on an old armchair, book and mugs of tea abandoned as the two of you drift off
Frodo may not fully be able to help you, but the spirit is always there
“Sweetheart, we’ll go to my favorite reading spot today if you’re up for it,”
Sam is just the sweetest hobbit
He’s so very unsure about how to help, but his heart is so big and so full of love at all times
Constantly asks you how he can help
Picks flowers for you every day when he comes back from work
The two of you absolutely have a garden together 
Has a walking stick/other mobility helpers made for you custom 
Is very much by your side whenever he’s able to be, unless that feels too much/suffocating for you, then he will back off a bit
Sam just wants to make sure you’re ok
“Come here, dearest, tell me how I can help,”
Pippin is basically still in his tweens so he doesn’t quite understand that you can’t go for a run though Farmer Maggot’s fields or climb the tallest trees in the Shire
But he’s there for you nonetheless
Will always entertain you with stories and gossip from around the Shire
Pippin loves resting with you, just lounging in the grass or in bed and just talking, or cloud gazing 
Honestly he just loves being close to you
“I’d do anything for you petal, though I think asking me to stop rummaging through Farmer Maggot’s may be asking too much,”
Merry will absolutely bring you on boat rides, mostly with a few books
It’s actually pretty romantic
Tries to help you the best he can, but Shire medicine isn’t the best 
Though if dwarves or men happen to cut through the Shire, he’ll ask them for advice 
Always asks you how you’re feeling and how he can help you feel better 
“And just how is the best hobbit feeling today?”
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minaturefics · 5 months ago
Calloused Hands
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Request: hello! i love the aragorn fics you've written so far. could u right a fluffy/silly jealous!reader x aragorn fic? i feel like everyone does fics where the character is jealous and would love to see it the other way around.
A/N: Hello hello! I tried to make this as lighthearted and playful as possible 😊
Aragorn x Reader
Gender-neutral reader
No content warnings
2.3k words
The lanterns blazed above the crowd, merry and bright, and the whole hall was bathed in a diffused light. The musicians were playing some jaunty tune that sounded Rohirrim and the dancers in the middle of the room hopped to the fast beat. The air was perfumed by the different scent oils. Lavender and rose, bergamot and cedar.
You weaved your way through the crowd on the sidelines and smiled to yourself. In the days before the War of the Ring, there would not have been such cheerful dances, such unrestrained revelry. The mixing of Middle-Earth’s cultures in Gondor loosened up the people of Minas Tirith, and many Gondorian folk were dancing along with their Rohirrim and elvish counterparts.
You caught sight of Aragorn from across the room, your eyes meeting his keen grey ones, and you beamed at him. He offered you a small smile before turning his attention back to the group of people surrounding him. They were adorned with the best silks and the most exquisite jewellery. They smiled and nodded along to the conversation with looks of adoration for their still uncrowned king. There would be little chance of such an informal interaction after his coronation and many were taking advantage of it.
You glanced down at your modest attire and fought the urge to tug at the hems and seams. The finery and opulence felt unnatural after so many months on the road and you had donned the most unrestrictive clothes you could find. Was it too plain compared to what everyone else was wearing? Perhaps you were melting into the crowd, overshadowed by the splendour of everyone else.
“Are you not dancing, my friend?” Legolas’s hand came to rest on your shoulder.
“No, I am unfamiliar with this tune.” You observed the dancers, trying to mark their steps and movements. “And it appears to be quite complicated.”
“That is no reason not to try. Look.” He inclined his head towards Aragorn. Aragorn was leading one of the nobles onto the dance floor, his head thrown back in a laugh. “Even he is attempting it.”
Your heart clenched at the sight. His dark hair was smooth and untangled, and was half pulled back by a thin velvet cord. His beard, now finally well trimmed and kept, accentuated the sharp line of his jaw. Even in his unassuming garb, less frilled and embroidered like the rest of the court, he stood out with the air of royalty.
Would he prefer one of the nobles to be at his side? Someone who had blood more refined than yours. Someone who would glow in the candlelight, radiant in the dim.
“Besides,” you groused. “I have no partner.”
“I am here, am I not?” Legolas arched his eyebrow at you. He took your hand in his and tugged you towards the dancefloor. “Come, they are changing the tune now. You cannot pretend you do not know this song.”
He swept you into his arms and you whirled onto the dancefloor. You followed his subtle cues, the pressure of his hand on your back, the slight tug into another direction, and his elvish sure-footedness ensured that you never stepped on his feet. With each turn about the room, lightness began to buoy you. Laughter bubbled in your chest as he spun you around.
You heard your name muttered, the low voice carried off by the music, and you glanced behind to find Aragorn grinning at you. He was moving off towards the other side of the room in time with the music, his partner in his arms, but his eyes were fixed on you. Legolas chuckled and tugged you closer. “If you keep doing that, you will have more than half the hall wishing you ill.”
Heat rose to your cheeks and you tore your eyes away from Aragorn. “I do not know what you mean.”
“Do not play coy with me.” He laughed. “It is plain to see.”
“It does not matter. Aragorn is… Aragorn would not…” You paused and found your words. “I am but one of the Fellowship, a friend. He does not view me as I do him.”
You thought of Aragorn’s light touches, his hand on your shoulder, his thigh pressed against yours around the campfire, his fingers in your hair as he fixed an errant strand. You replayed the stolen moments of tenderness that you held in your heart. His large hands on yours as he cleaned your wounds, the scent of pipeweed in the night from the pipe passed between each other, the fleeting kiss he pressed to your forehead before the march to Mordor.
Warm and close, and so different to how he was when he entered Minas Tirith and prepared for his coronation. It seemed like there was hardly any time for easy dinners and idle chatter.
Perhaps now, confronted with the weight of his station, he realised he would be better off with someone of a higher birth.
As though sensing your thoughts, Legolas shook his head at you. “If you believe Aragorn would care so much for standing and status, you do him a disservice. And I do not doubt that he returns your feelings. I have seen it in his eyes.”
The song ended and Legolas released you from his arms. Your eyes cut to where Aragorn was bowing to his partner, wishing you could see what Legolas meant. Aragorn met your gaze and took a step forward, as though meaning to cross the room to you. He was not three paces when another noble interrupted him. The music stuck up again and he took their hand.
You tried to escape back into the crowd, to keep your eyes away from him, but a small pair of hands wrapped around your arm. You looked down to find Pippin grinning up at you. “I know this song, we have it in the Shire as well! Will you dance with me?” He looked so earnest and eager you could not find it in you to refuse him, and so you were brought back into the fray once more.
It was a little awkward dancing with a partner much shorter than you, but the song was fast paced and more fancy footwork than partnership, and the both of you fell into an easy rhythm. More than once he had accidentally knocked your leg with his and it soon devolved into a surreptitious competition to see who could jostle who.
“Peregrin Took!”
The both of you turned and saw Gandalf shaking his head. The song winded down, the last note ringing in the air, and he approached the two of you. “Misbehaving while dancing,” he huffed, but there was no real annoyance in his eyes.
“Come on, Gandalf,” Pippin prodded the wizard with a finger. “It’s just a bit of fun. I’ll bet you’re just jealous because you know not how to dance.”
Gandalf’s eyes widened. “Know not how to dance? I’ll have you know I know every single one of these dances.”
The two of them bickered and you found your eyes drifting towards Aragorn once more. He inclined his head at you, a smile on his lips. He was halfway to you when another person called out to him and he was drawn away. Before long the musicians began again and you watched as he led another person onto the floor.
Unease started to creep up your spine. He looked so relaxed with them, his arms slotting around their body, their hands resting on his broad shoulders. Every person he had danced with was gorgeous, with their flawless skin and perfect teeth.
Was this how it would be from now on? Always separated by a sea of people, pushed aside by someone more beautiful, more charming.
“Come now,” Gandalf said, touching your arm and bringing you out of your thoughts. “Let us show this foolish Took how one truly dances.”
You blinked at the older man and he pulled you back into the dancing couples. There were a few shouts and cries at the sight of the old wizard dancing, and you found yourself chuckling as he looked at you with mischief in his eyes. “I am but a temporary partner, simply a vessel to deliver you.”
You frowned. “What do you mean, Gandalf?”
He winked at you and laughed. “You’ll see. Though we must finish this dance first, and I will do my best to amuse you.” His eyes flicked towards a man holding a goblet. “That one has a whole room dedicated to his beloved dog. Drapes, candles, all of it.”
You gasped and laughed. “I did not take you for a gossip.”
He inclined his head. “They are no more different than regular folk. Do not let the frills and lace deceive you. That one over there, she once fell off her horse into a puddle of mud.”
Throughout the dance, he regaled you with amusing accounts of the nobles. A woman who once braided a two metre long bun and insisted the servants bake it. A man who paints portraits of stray cats. And even one of the elves who hid their friend’s comb and sent them on a treasure hunt.
The tension in your shoulders melted away and you laughed at the older man. The song was slowing and he spun you towards the centre of the room. As you turned, he released your hand and you faltered, eyes snapping to his in confusion. Before you stumbled on your feet, a steady pair of arms reached out for you.
“My friend,” Aragorn muttered and you blinked at him. His grey eyes reflected the flickering candlelight and a smile tugged at his lips. He smelled of leather and musk, of faint pipeweed and woodsmoke. You could feel the warmth of his arms through your thin clothes as he pulled you closer.
“Aragorn,” you whispered, eyes flickering down to his lips before you could stop yourself.
The hall fell into a hush.
Aragorn, sensing the crowd’s eyes, looked out at them and nodded at the musicians. The music began again and everyone hurried back to their conversations and dance partners.
“I am not a very good dancer,” you mumbled.
“You seemed to be doing fine before.” He smirked at you.
“I doubt I will be as good as your previous partners.” You kept your eyes away from his, fixing them on some spot over his shoulder. You caught the quick glances and blatant stares from the crowd. “Everyone is watching us.”
He leaned in close to your ear, his breath tickling your neck, and you suppressed a shiver. His voice was low and gentle. “Would you prefer it if we went elsewhere?”
You nodded and he tugged on your waist. The crowd parted, with bowed heads and averted gazes, as he led you towards the large balcony to the side of the hall.
The night air was cool and fresh, smelling more of trees and grass than of perfume, and you took a deep breath. The chatter of the celebration fell away but the music could still be heard faintly through the windows. Crickets chirped in the bushes and birds cawed overhead.
He took one of your hands in his, and slipped his other arm around you. You rested your hand on his shoulder. “I have wanted to dance with you all evening,” he admitted. “Though it seemed forces conspired against me.”
You tried to keep the bitterness out of your voice. “I’m sure your lovely companions would have made up for my absence.”
“No,” he murmured and began to move to the music. “There is no one there that could compare to you.”
Your eyes fluttered shut and you let yourself be led by him, relishing his closeness. You could feel the warmth from his body, hear his soft breaths. How many more dances could you have with him before you had to move aside for someone else?
“I am not born of high blood, Aragorn. I have calloused hands and simple clothes, I know more of battle than I do of court.”
He chuckled. “In that we are the same. Your status matters not to me, nor does the texture of your hands. There is nothing that could dissuade my love for you.”
Love? Aragorn loved you? You stared at him, your steps hesitating on the stone, and stepped out of his arms. “You truly love me?”
“Has it not already been made plain?” His brows drew together. “I thought you were aware. Do you not feel the same?”
You rushed back towards him, taking his face in your hands. His beard was soft on your skin, his eyes shining with unshed tears. “I do,” you whispered. “I do.”
“I am sorry if I have ever made you doubt it, meleth nin. I know I have been distant of late.” He nuzzled your cheek. “Once the coronation is over I shall have more time.”
“What would you like to do once you are king?”
“Ask for your hand.” He grinned at you. “That is, if you do not object to it?”
“Object to being yours? Never.”
He hummed and brushed his lips against your temple. “We should sneak out of the city one day. I would greatly appreciate a break from court.”
“And where would we go, my love?”
“Anywhere you desire.”
You thought of Aragorn, laughing in the forest, pipe in hand, languid and at ease. “Perhaps somewhere in the wilderness. I hear the forests of Ithilien are untouched and beautiful.”
“We could pack some food,” he mused. “We could share my pipe.”
“We could bring the apple tarts you are so fond of. I’ve heard the rumours of you stealing into the kitchens to pilfer some fresh from the oven.”
“And I have heard that you managed to persuade the hobbits to give you some of their precious Longbottom Leaf.” He arched an eyebrow at you and grinned. “I expect you’ll bring it?”
You laughed and brought your mouth to his. His lips were soft and pliant, and he deepened the kiss. You rested your forehead against his, breaths mingling together. He was here, he was yours. You stroked his cheek, your thumb brushing over his cheekbone. “Anything for you, my love, anything.”
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elisethewildwolf · 11 months ago
I’ll be pinning this since it’s the master list and whenever I have a new story I’ll just update this post to make navigation easier :)  Hope you guys continue to read, enjoy, like, and reblog!  Thanks for the support!  
If y’all wanna follow me on instagram just for the sake of it, here’s my acc: thedaydreamerwriter24. It’s private so just message me here or smth if it’s you who’s following so that I can ✨confirm✨ hahaha. hope you all continue enjoying my posts!
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Here’s my other master list guys (I have reached this 100 link limit for posts in my master list so this’ll have to be the second master list): Masterlist 2
The Hobbit
- Thorin:
King of Erebor Series: Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6
Damn It, You’re the One Series (request): Part 1, Part 2, Part 3
       - Oneshots:
More than Enough
Thorin’s Wife (request)
Come Home Please
One Last Time
Need VS Want
Blue Eyes
Been Busy…
I’m Going to Murder Him
Mistletoe (Christmas Special)
- Fili: 
Past, Present, Future Series: Past (Part 1), Present (Part 2),
- Oneshots:
Dance With Me
Sick Days (request)
On the Hunt (request)
What Home Really Is (request)
Late Princes, Early Desires
- Kili:
Love Her
- Dwalin:
Just Knew
- King Thranduil:
Rude Answers (request)
- Bilbo:
The Lord of the Rings:
- Aragorn: 
Before Series: Before We Started (Part 1)
- Oneshots:
(Don’t) Let Me Go
Drank Too Much (request)
Focus On Me Alright?
Someone Else’s
About-To-Be-Queen Jitters (request)
Peace (request)
The Main Question and the Main Answer
Swimming Lessons (request)
The Past (request)
- Faramir:
Just A Little Bit Tipsy (request)
One Day
- Legolas:
Wish You Were Here
To Die For
Just Because (request)
How Many More Minutes?
The Real One
- Boromir:
Fight for You
Don’t Care
- Haldir:
Coming Home
Let Me Go with You
Please Say It First
Dive (request)
Dancing and Temptation Can Go Hand in Hand (request)
Thank You
- Eomer:
All Eyes On You
Sweet Mornings, Lovely Dreams
- Lord Elrond:
Welcome to Stay
- Frodo:
Bad Dreams
- Samwise:
Sam (request)
What Lord of the Rings Characters Are Like When They’re Jealous: Part 1, Part 2
What Lord of the Rings Characters Are Like With An Overthinker: Part 1, Part 2
What The Hobbit Characters Are Like When They’re Jealous (Part 1)
Harry Potter:
- Draco Malfoy:
The Potter Problem
Keep Me Yours
- Harry Potter:
Mistletoe Maybes
- Hermione Granger:
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halfelven · a year ago
I just love so much that one of the first things we see Aragorn do is have a ptsd flashback, with a panic attack during their initial meeting in Bree 
‘You can do as you like about my reward: take me as a guide or not. But I may say that I know all the lands between the Shire and Misty Mountains, for I have wandered the over them for many years. I am older than I look. I might prove useful. You will have to leave the open road after tonight; for the horsemen will watch it night and day. You may escape from Bree, and be allowed to go forward while the Sun is up; but you won’t go far. They will come on you in the wild, in some dark place where there is no help. Do you wish them to find you? They are terrible!’ 
The hobbits looked at him, and saw with surprise that his face was drawn as if in pain, and his hands clenched the arms of his chair. The room was very quiet and still, and the light seemed to have grown dim. For a while he sat with unseeing eyes as if walking in distant memory or listening to sounds in the Night far away. 
‘There!’ he he cried after a moment, drawing his hand across his brow. ‘Perhaps I know more about these pursuers than you do. You fear them, but you do not fear them enough, yet.’ 
which is like, he is having a flashback so bad that he is feeling the pain again, he grips the chair tightly to ground himself/it’s a reaction to the adrenaline, and then disassociates hard enough that the hobbits/onlookers can see that he’s not seeing them/isn’t mentally there. he breaks himself out of it, but at that point has panicked hard enough that he has to wipe (presumably sweat off of) his brow. 
and, like, yes this is what a panic attack can look like to onlookers because it is often very tight/restrained/drawn inward and while you feel like your heart is racing so fast you might die you might look like you’re just gripping your chair/yourself/the wall/your bag and your eyes are distant 
and for that to happen in the second chapter of meeting Aragorn means so much to me because here is a tall, strong man with years of experience, one of the best fighters in Middle-earth, and he’s having a panic attack as one of his introductory actions
and it’s like so nice to read that after today when I had a panic attack bad enough that I had to take medication so strong that my friends go oh hmm be careful with that because no one seems to understand what is happening inside of me because it looks like that outside. I’m clinging to my own arms and staring at the wall but it feels like I’m dying again 
it just means so much to me. like look at Aragorn he’s so brave and strong, right? he has ptsd flashbacks and panic attacks, and he’s still brave and strong. because breaking down doesn’t make you weak
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maitarussa · 5 months ago
Arwen did not choose mortality for Aragorn. She chose the fate of Men for herself.
Ever since she learned of the Choice, she wondered— what lay beyond the Circles of the World? What new discoveries and adventures were there? All that is within Arda has, after all, been learned and studied, and with her father being a great Loremaster, Arwen learned almost all there was to know from a young age, and ever sought out new mysteries and discoveries.
Arwen always knew in her heart that she wished to choose the fate of Men for herself. And because of this, she did not make the Choice of the Peredhil for many, many years. For she knew that she did not wish to choose the fate of the Eldar, and yet, immortal she would remain until she had made it. She delayed her choice for the sake of her father, as she knew well the grief that Elrond carried still from his brother’s choice, and she cared greatly for him and sought not to hurt him even further.
But Elrond knew, of course— Arwen often held the same look in her eyes that Elros had, after he had made his decision but not the Choice itself. He hoped, naturally, that her mind would be changed, but knew that it would not. The day that he first met young Aragorn, he knew indeed that Arwen’s fate would be tied with his, and at long last he came to accept it. For so many mortal lifetimes now, Arwen had put off the Choice, even as she grew weary of the world far more swiftly than the Eldar did and seemed older than her brothers. Even as what seemed like the sea-longing awoke within her, but instead it was a longing for what lay beyond the world.
Elrond cherished Arwen more closely than his sons, for he knew that he had only a short time before she inevitably made the choice to accept the Doom of Men. Falling in love with Aragorn was merely the final push for her— and the most that Elrond could do was bid her to wait until Sauron was defeated, so that they may at least have peace and happiness.
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gothhobbithoe · 16 days ago
The Fellowship having a horror movie night:
Only there for the snacks
Doesn't even flinch when a jumpscare comes on
Falls asleep halfway through because he got bored
He's seen major shit throughout his life a horror movie is like a kids show for him
Prefers fantasy horror like Pans Labyrinth or The VVitch over typical ghosty horror
He's secretly terrified the whole time but won't show it
Freaks out in every jumpscare but trys to remain composed
Holds his sword for comfort
Wishes he could have invited Arwen because she loves this stuff
Loves horror movies so much, would always watch them with Faramir
Is the one who organised it
Is a Stephen King fan
Tried to get the fellowship to watch "Hereditary" first, soon realised that it was not the best way to start off the night
Loves horror movies actually
Loves the Blair witch project and anything set in the forest
Tried to make Gimli even more scared by shaking him at every jumpscare
Threatens to punch legolas if he shakes him one more time
More of a supernatural thriller kinda guy, jumpscares just freak him out too much and he thinks it's "cheap horror"
Laughs out of fear
Comfort is snacks
Snuggled up with Sam the whole time
Actually a fan of horror, it's a bit of a comfort movie genre for him
Is Sam's emotional support hobbit
Him and Borormir are arguing over which horror movie is the best
Hates every minute of it
Spends the whole movie looking at cute animals on his phone to calm him down
Glued to frodo and won't let him go
Regrets all life decisions at this moment
Eating a literal roast dinner with Pippin while watching the movies
Loves any horror movie, favourite is slashers or 80s b movies
Laughs at jumpscares
Laughs at Pippins reaction to jumpscares
Hides behind a cushion
Constant screaming
Made the roast dinner as food calms him down
Nightmares for weeks after the marathon
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wildwarcat · 26 days ago
Oh, okay! Thank you for adding my request to the list and take all the time you need! Good luck on the semester!
Of course! My semester was incredibly successful and now I'm back! Enjoy your long awaited request!
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Fight For You (Legolas x Fem!Rohirrim!Reader)
Summary: While standing guard for the women and children of Rohan at Helm's Deep, your desire for battle gets the best of you... as does your love for a certain prince.
You hated this. Hated being left to tend to the women and children of Edoras and Helm's Deep while your friends fought against an army of ten thousand Uruk-Hai. It had been your hope that Théoden would be more forgiving, offer you a chance to fight when there were so few who could, but he didn't. As your king, he ordered you to remain with those who could not protect themselves.
"I fear that our defenses may not hold, Y/N. And if that is so, I need you and Eowyn to defend the caves as best you can." He had told you. Not wanting to cause a scene in front of your friends, you smiled stiffly and bowed, thanking your king. But both Aragorn and Legolas caught sight of the anger brewing in your eyes, the resentment that you carried as you began to descend into the cave.
You turned to see Legolas running up to you, his bow in hand. He met you with sad eyes, and strapping his bow to his back, took your hand in his. 
“Before you go, there is something I must confess.” He said, stepping ever closer to you, “I had intended to tell you after the battle was won, but I fear... I fear that there is a chance I may not return.” 
“Do not say such things, Legolas.” You pleaded, “You will return.”
“But if I shouldn’t,” He pressed, gripping your hand tighter, “I wish for you to know that I love you; I have loved since our very first meeting and if I should fall upon this battlefield tonight then I shall have died protecting you.”
You were speechless. On the verge of all out war, the elven prince of Mirkwood was standing before you, a common Rider of the Mark, confessing his love. 
“Legolas, I-” 
Your words were cut short when he pressed his lips to yours. It was a brief gesture, but the love that he had spoken of was there, as was the fear. Fear that he would never see you again, fear that he would never be able to say ‘I love you’ again.
You felt that fear too, though you would likely never admit it. You had fallen for the elf from the very moment you had set eyes upon him at the Council of Elrond. And if you were being completely honest with yourself, you’d rather die fighting alongside him then walk the earth without him. 
So you returned his kiss, with as much longing and love as you could, your hands setting themselves around his neck to bring you ever closer. 
When the need for air finally separated you, the desire to fight became unbearable. You pressed a quick kiss to his cheek. 
“Let me fight.” You whispered, hoping that the flurry of emotions would perhaps cloud his judgement for a moment. 
“I can’t. I would never be able to forgive myself if you fell before me. Please stay here, melleth.” He pleaded, his eyes begging you to stay away from the looming battle. You couldn’t say no, not when he looked at you like that. 
“Fine.” You submitted, stepping back and turning to enter the caves.
As night fell over Helm’s Deep, great storm clouds rolled in, bringing crashes of thunder and heavy pouring rain that echoed through the cave. Beyond the walls of stone, you could hear the roars of Uruk-Hai and the defeated cries of men, making you grimace. Whimpers and sobs from the children echoed through the cavern, making your head pound as the battle raged on. 
Suddenly a massive boom sounded from beyond the cave. You looked to Eowyn fearfully and saw in her eyes that you had both come to the same conclusion. 
“They’ve breached the wall.” You muttered, not wanting the common folk to hear. Your hand set itself upon your sword as you turned toward the cave entrance. 
"Stay here, move the women and children into the mountain pass." You instructed Eowyn as you began to walk away, "I can't sit here and do nothing."
Before Eowyn could protest, you were gone, sneaking out through a displaced stone beside the great doors that served as entrance to the caverns.
Outside the safety of the mountain, chaos and hellfire was everywhere. Bodies lay strewn across Helm's Deep, black-fletched arrows and gaping wounds feeding a river of red and black blood that coated the pathways through the fortress.
The night was beginning to wane, the sky was shifting from black to deep blue as orcs and Uruk-Hai began to charge toward the mountain side, right where you were standing.
You braced yourself, gripping your sword with both hands, your eyes blazing. With a battle cry, you fearlessly surged toward the monsters. Your blade connected with flesh, and black blood spattered across your face. Heads began to roll as you worked your way slowly through the growing onslaught. Within moments you were outnumbered: where was everyone? Where was Aragorn? Where was Théoden? And what of Gimli and-
An arrow struck the head of an orc that was charging up behind you. The sound of more arrows whizzing past your face brought relief to your mind when you caught a glimpse of familiar green fletching. You turned to see Legolas lowering his bow and rushing over to you, an uncharacteristic scowl on his face.
"Are you mad?" He shouted over the shrieks and roars of battle, even though he was only inches away from you, "What are you doing out here?"
"They were charging the mountain," You answered smartly, "I was simply doing what I was tasked to do."
The elf's eyes softened and he reached out to wipe some drops of blood from your face.
"You are truly the most stubborn woman." He mused with a small smile. You returned his grin, pressing a quick kiss to his cheek.
"Let me fight, melleth."
Legolas sighed, but redrew his bow and nodded in the direction of a second wave of Uruk-Hai.
"As you wish, my love."
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morwen-elf · 7 months ago
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Four hobbits entered the "trampling pony" and they immediately caught the attention of the customers, some made fun of them for their height, others looked down on them, and the others were too busy drinking their beers. Aragorn and Y/n were another story, the couple had immediately set their eyes on the group of friends, while they stayed at the table in the corner.
"What's that?" Pippin asked in amazement
"This, my friend, is a jar" Merry replied, without taking his eyes off the foam on top
"Does it come in jars?" Pippin question, without taking long to get up from the table "I'm going for one"
"You already had half!" Sam exclaimed trying to stop him but he failed miserably
Aragorn and Y/n kept their heads slightly lowered, while their faces were covered by the caps of their coats. A candle was on his table and that illuminated only his lips and nose.
"Those people have been looking at you since we arrived" Sam reported covertly, causing Frodo to turn his head to the right, finding himself in darkness and smoke thanks to Aragorn's pipe
"Excuse me, the couple in the corner, who are they?" Frodo asked one of the waiters
“They are rangers. They are dangerous people, who go from one place to the other. I have never heard their first names, but here the man is called Strider "
Y/n rolled her eyes when she heard the information that the hobbit had received, it was all true, but they made them look like bad people when they were not.
"Aragorn, look at his hands" Y/n indicated, beginning to feel anxious, it was hard to believe what her eyes were seeing
"There he is, Frodo Baggins!" Pippin spoke, pointing with his index finger at the table of his friends "He is my second cousin, from his mother and my third cousin, quite far away"
Frodo got up quickly and ran towards the bar, to stop the hobbit's words. Aragorn withdrew the pipe from his mouth and leaned forward, being followed by Y/n
"Watch out" Pippin warned when his arm was jerked around, causing his beer to spill
Frodo slipped and fell hard to the ground, while the ring he had wrapped in his hand, flew through the air causing the couple to rise with speed from their comfortable seats. The hobbit stretched out his index finger and the ring fell perfectly on his finger, disappearing his body completely, scaring the customers.
Aragorn shared a glance with his companion and they both walked in the direction of the hobbits, watching as Frodo appeared again on the floor. Aragorn took his left shoulder, while Y/n grabbed his right, leading him to their room.
"You draw far too much attention to yourself, Mr. Underhill” Y/n spoke remarkably, pushing him to the ground
"What do you want?" Frodo asked slightly nervous
"A little more caution from you, that is no trinket you carry”Aragorn snapped harshly
"I carry nothing” Frodo denied, hearing Y/n's laugh
"Are you sure about that?" The woman rhetorically asked
"We can avoid being seen if we wish" Aragorn commented, blowing out the candles in the room with his fingers "But disappearing completely is a rare Gift"
"Who are you?” The hobbit questioned, noticing how the caps were removed from their heads
"Are you frightened?" Aragorn asked with a hint of curiosity
Frodo lowered his head "Yes"
"Not enough, we know what is haunting you," Y/n said moving around the room to stand next to Aragorn
The man was about to coat his mouth again, ready to ask another question, when quick footsteps were heard down the stairs before the door was slammed open. The four hobbits were inside the room and they all came armed to rescue their friend.
Y/n drew her sword as she rested her eyes on each of them. Sam had his hands fisted as he raised them into the air, Merry was carrying a candelabrum with three lit candles, and Pippin was holding a bench with both hands.
“Let him go! Or I'll have you, longshanks” Sam exclaimed surprising the couple
“You have a stout heart, little hobbit. But that will not save you” Aragorn answered with a tiny smile
“You can no longer wait for the wizard, Frodo. They're coming” Y/n remember him
Convincing the four hobbits that they would be safe under our protection had been difficult, but after a long talk they all agreed that they will stay with us. Merry and Pippin were the first to go to sleep and Frodo and Sam followed them a few minutes later.
The sky was still dark, but dawn was near. Rain was pouring down from above and most of the town was flooded, while the ground was covered in slippery mud. The fireplace inside the room was lit and that managed to keep us all warm, the beds were occupied and that is why I was still awake keeping Aragorn company.
"It's weird, isn't it?" Y/n asked softly drawing his attention
"We knew that things would change soon”
"I know, but that a hobbit wears the ring is strange and that Gandalf is missing too" She explained watching him nod his head.
"We must make sure they get to Rivendell safely" Aragorn muttered, returning his eyes to the window
Y/n was silent and braced her head on her knees, her body was sore and even though the fireplace was on, she still felt frozen. She had not been able to sleep properly for two days and the way things were going, she would probably spend another four in the same situation, her eyes were struggling to stay open and the task was getting more and more complicated.
"Angel, go to rest, I can see and feel the desire you have to sleep" Aragorn spoke softly
"I'm fine, I can take a little longer" Y/n assured him, hearing him let out a snort
"I don't want you to push yourself to the limit, not when I know that I can protect you and that you can rest in peace" Aragorn murmured noticing how a smile formed on her lips
“I appreciate your concern, strides. But the ground doesn't look very comfortable to me. ” She replied with enjoyment
“Then come here ”Aragorn indicated, patting his leg
Y/n seemed surprised at his action and it took her a few seconds to get up, but when she did, she did not hesitate to approach his chair, being between his separated legs, the man's hands ran over her body with sweetness and remained still on the back of her legs, in one swift movement he pulled her forward and left her sitting on his lap.
"This is better?" He asked gracefully
"Much better" Y/n murmured accommodating her head on the exposed part of his neck, while her hand rested on his chest
Aragorn watched her adoringly and felt his heart melt when he saw her snuggle against him, it was strange that the two were so affectionate with each other, but neither could deny how much they enjoyed and treasured those little moments.
Sleep was already inside her body so her eyes closed immediately, clearly she was not asleep yet and that is why she could hear the angry screams of the Nazgul. Y/n quickly raised her head and directed her eyes to the window.
"They are here, they found us" She whispered
She was exhausted and fighting more than five wraiths was not her ideal plan, aside from protecting the hobbits.
"Hey, lie down" Aragorn indicated, putting his hand on her cheek "They won't find us, they are in another room and they will think that we managed to fool them. They will leave ” he assured her, managing to reassure her
Still, with doubts on her face, she returned to her previous position with a sigh, Aragorn brought his hands to her waist to keep her in place and gently kissed her head.
"We'll be fine" he murmured, absorbing her perfume
Y/n nodded slightly at his words and tried to ignore the closeness of their enemies as she relaxed into the Ranger's arms.
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