#grima wormtongue x eowyn

[torchwood-99]

Eowyn and Gothic Horror

I've ranted about the interpretation that Eowyn's rejection of gender roles was a symptom of her sickness, caused only by Grima's manipulations. An interpretation that doesn't hold to either Gandalf's speech in the Houses of Healing, when he specifies how the liberties denied to Eowyn and allowed to Eomer and her male peers played a crucial role in her depression, or when we see how Eowyn was really vindicated in her decision to ride to battle by her victory over the Witch King. A victory that wins her incredible renown and respect.

I think this reading comes about because people see the significance of Grima's contribution to Eowyn's despair, and think he is the sole source of it.

But Eowyn was not dissatisfied with her role and her enforced position in the house because of Grima's manipulations. She didn't rail against sexism because Grima played with her head and "poisoned" her traditionally feminine role for her.

Grima was able to prey on Eowyn, manipulate her and drive her to despair, because of the sexism that forced Eowyn to remain stuck in the house.

Look at the speech Gandalf gives Eomer about Eowyn's sufferings. The very first thing he mentions is the fact that Eowyn was denied the freedoms and opportunities Eomer had. The suffering that follows stems from that first initial injustice.

Because of that first injustice, Eowyn was rendered vulnerable, and Grima was able to exploit that. That isolation, that limited freedom, that unhappiness about her lack of choices, left her free game for Grima to take an already bad situation, and make it far worse.

Thinking about Eowyn's experience in Meduseld, what the impact of being confined to the domestic sphere did to her, and what is left her vulnerable to, makes me think of Gothic horror, and the role of sexism and domesticity in that genre too.

Eowyn's situation before the novels is that of a classic Gothic heroine. A fair, beautiful woman, trapped inside a decaying house, and preyed on by an awful monster, who hungers after her beauty and longs to possess her. Or else, destroy her.

Domestic settings and isolation are pretty crucial themes in the gothic genre, and for that reason it has historically been seen as a woman's genre. It taps into a pretty universal fear of what happens when home ceases to be a safe space, a fear that historically, has a particularly great resonance for women.

Whereas traditionally home is a refuge and respite for men from the world, the home is the woman's only true acceptable sphere. And yet even there she is subordinate. Therefore, she is vulnerable. With no place in the outside world, she has no escape, no respite, no refuge. If home becomes an evil, she is trapped. And because she has no place in the social sphere, she has no voice either. She is invisible, she is overlooked, her sufferings and her contributions are passed over,

Eowyn is isolated. Eowyn is vulnerable. Eowyn is overlooked. And because Eowyn is isolated and vulnerable and overlooked, Grima is able to get his hooks into her and drive her to despair. She is a wild animal, trammelled and caught in a hutch, a predator's helpless prey. But Grima didn't put Eowyn in the hutch. Eowyn was already there. Grima just took advantage of that.

Even after Grima is gone, Meduseld is still a place Eowyn longs to escape, and while its evil is purged and she does return, it is only for a short while. Grima's defeat is not enough to make Meduseld a place where Eowyn can find real happiness or fulfilment. On its own, it still represents a role for Eowyn that she wishes to move beyond.

The healing counterpoint to Eowyn's gothic castle of horrors, the hutch she was caught in, is in escape, and in a return to nature.

Eowyn's entire romance with Faramir takes place within the gardens of the Houses of Healing, where we see Eowyn start to recover from her ordeal. It takes place on the open, in the garden, on the ramparts, with much notice given to the sky and the sun and the elements around them.

(Also, the Houses of Healing themselves are not a domestic setting, but a public one, and there we see women working alongside men and holding authority.)

Eowyn's happy ending, her great escape, climaxes with her decision to go with Faramir to Ithilien.

Ithilien is the exact opposite of a hutch. It's descriptions are filled with natural imagery, and is known as the Garden of Gondor. It is a place for growth and fresh starts. A place of freedom. A place for a wild thing.

When Faramir suggests that he and Eowyn live in Ithilien, he reasserts again and again that they will go there if it is Eowyn's will. Both Tolkien and Faramir put emphasis on the importance of Eowyn's will, and Eowyn's right to freedom of movement.

In his plans for their future, Faramir talks of "us" and "we", removing the separation between men (belonging to the social sphere) and women (belonging to the domestic), and speaks of Ithilien as a shared dwelling place for both of them. Faramir only distinguishes between himself and Eowyn when he puts importance on Eowyn's will, and at the end, on Eowyn's influence.

At the close of his speech, Faramir says all things will grow with joy in Ithilien, if Eowyn is there. Returning Ithilien to its former glory, allowing it to bloom once more, is to become Faramir's life's work, and still it is Eowyn's influence he puts centre stage. Far from being kept confined to the domestic sphere, relegated to being Faramir's home support while he dominates the rehabilitation of Ithilien, Faramir places Eowyn's work and Eowyn's significance at the heart of their future together.

Eowyn goes from being shut in the house, where everything around her was decaying and falling to ruin, to being freed to stand in the heart of nature, where there is a chance for influence, growth, and fresh starts.

#Lotr #Lord of the Rings #Eowyn #Faramir #Grima Wormtongue #Farawyn #Faramir-x-Eowyn

[exdeputysonso]

So fair. So cold. Like a morning of pale spring still clinging to winter’s chill. - The Lord of the Rings: The Two Towers (2002)

#brad dourif #miranda otto #the lord of the rings #the two towers #filmedit #filmgifs #lotr #lotredit #eowyn #grima wormtongue #grimowyn #eowyn x grima #myedit #braddourif* #lotr* #guys i'm so normal about this #as you could expect #also can't believe i'm finally making some grima gifs after all this time #for the yearning series

[msminjaz]

Hi, Tumblr!  It’s been a loooongbutt time since I’ve tried my hand at making a direct post and since I can’t share automatically from Instagram, I’ll see if I can do it directly.  The LOTR Éowyn x Gríma Wormtongue pairing has captivated me, and my "the school year has ended, so it's time to draw a picture that absolutely no one asked for" gift to myself this time was this ship. It took a long time to complete as other things were vying for my attention (still are), but it's done! Painted in ink and coffeewash with a small splash of blue, which is hardly noticeable in this scan. Instagram link: https://www.instagram.com/p/CsAcY2XL6bo/

#lotr #eowyn #wormtongue #grima wormtongue #lotr fanart #minjaz #ms minjaz #eowyn x wormtongue

[hikarielizabethbloom]

Am I the only one who think these two scenes are very similar?

Galadriel and Eowyn's story is one and the same. Both born of war, they are formidable warriors but they don't love war. They fight against the enemy and against the role society decides suit them.

In the end, they both got what they wanted the most: peace.

#the rings of power #lotr rings of power #rings of power #amazon rings of power #saurondriel #haladriel #galadriel x halbrand #galadriel and halbrand #galadriel x sauron #galadriel and sauron #eowyn #grima wormtongue

[thorinswaggerson]

#lotr #grima/eowyn #grima wormtongue #eowyn of rohan #grima x eowyn

[slow-burn-sally]

Grima Wormtongue for the character opinions meme? :3

good one friend!

I have so many feelings about Grima Wormtongue

First, I have the hots for him. Damn. I want that creep on top of me. I love his whole look, and his ability to stay out of the sun as like a professional job skill. His twitchy fingers. His lank hair. His unhinged looks. I am so in love. I ship him with Eowyn in the most disgusting, horrible way. He's just special. Also, BINGO

#lotr #grima wormtongue #eowyn x grima #oh my god there isn't even a tag for that ship #character opinion bingo

[writing-good-vibes]

For the Valentine’s Day prompt, could I request 3 and 9 from the steamy category (black silk and candle wax) for Wormtongue (my cursed crush)?

They can be separate or in one thing whatever you like! Thank you so much, love your work 🥰

grima !! he is a cursed crush, but y'all made me feel way less weird about it. turns out we're all secretly into him i guess and i'm willing to take one for the team to provide 😂. thank you so much for requesting and for being so lovely !! 💖 warning for smut.

Grima could be kind, sometimes.

With a sly smile he handed you a parcel wrapped in a woolen shroud. "For you."

You look at him quizzically. Normally he isn't so pointed with his gift giving. Usually his gifts are given rather backhandedly, under the guise of charity.

This time, it feels different though. The shroud it's wrapped on feels like a gift itself and he's looking at you, watching for your reaction with a gleam in his eye.

"Really?" you ask, barely believing it.

He nods, a certain air of smugness still filling him, lifting his posture in anticipation.

With a smile that you hope doesn't betray how much this is effecting you, you unwrap your gift.

Beneath the wool lies silk, black as night. You let the shroud drop onto Grima's desk, and the silk spills between your fingers. A long black gown, flutters before you where you hold it by the shoulders.

"Grima," you start, but trail off, still in awe of the beautiful garment.

"Do you like it?"

"My Lord," you never use such formalities in times like these, but the teasing lilt of your voice betrays your intentions, "I love it."

"Mightn't I see you in it, my lady."

You bite your lip and turn your back -- though it won't hide anything he hasn't seen a thousand times over -- peeling of your day dress, the one you wear to scour floors and scrub laundry.

The new dress fits like a glove, draping over you in waves and you smile, childishly feeling the softness beneath your finger tips.

When you turn back around, Grima is watching intently from his desk, lounged in his chair. He's more relaxed than you believe you've ever seen him, even after all the times you've fallen asleep beside him.

No, now he seems confident, arrogant almost, with legs spread languidly and his narrow hips tilted slightly.

"My, my," he says, admiring the form you cut in the flickering candle light.

"Do you like it?" you repeat his earlier question to you.

"I do, most ardently."

...

If you didn't know any better, you might think he gifted you this gown simply to have the pleasure of removing it.

Lay in his bed with his hands dancing over you, linger where you want them but never for long enough, you can barely think straight.

The dress is up over your waist and the bodice with its intricate laces, is open, revealing your soft skin to the candle light.

Your eyes are closed and you don't notice the heat of the candle get closer and closer, you're already too hot as it is with Grima's breath tickling your neck.

The first drop of wax is a surprise. One single drop on your collarbone and you hiss at the sting before it sets into a bead on your skin.

"Grima?" you ask, catching his thin wrist before another drop of wax can fall.

"Tell me to stop and I will," he says, pressing a kiss beneath your ear.

"You promise?"

"You have my word, and when have I ever, ever lied to you?"

You think. Grima is full of lies, the spill out of him like blood from a wound but you can't recall a time he's ever lied to you.

Instead of doing the sensible thing and scolding him, you nod, watching as Grima's icy eyes read your expression.

He seems satisfied and before you can think of anything else, a thin line of wax drips down your chest, between your breasts. The sting hurts, but Grima's other hand is working wonders on you, slick as they are with your wetness.

You let out a heavy sigh, trying to reconcile all of the sensations scattered across your body in that moment. The bite of the wax versus the soft solace of the silk that pools beneath you.

Another line of wax crosses your chest, almost from one nipple to the other. A cross now marks your chest and you tangle a hand in Grima's hair.

His hand holds the candle steady, away from your body as he leans down to kiss your untouched nipple. It makes you shiver and he catches it properly in his mouth, tongue rolling over it as his other hand -- his thumb -- moves in tandem, repeating the motions onto your clit.

"Grima, please," you aren;t even sure what your asking for, and you don't really want this, any of this, to end but you need something. And Grima has always been good at reading you.

He pulls away, leaving you floundering in deprivation as he sets the candle aside before helping you out of the dress, which he carefully deposits on the chair closest to the bed. Even in the heat of the moment he knows better than to spoil this dress, your finest possession.

Before you know it, he's over you again, spreading your legs beneath him and pressing, hot and slow inside. Giving and taking in equal parts.

#grima wormtongue x reader #grima wormtongue #ahhh grima #my wretched #i love him #thank you so much for requesting !! #this isnt really like anything i've written before so i really wanted to do a good job !! #also not to toot my own horn but i just loved the idea of this dress being the total opposite of eowyn #she is the White Lady of Rohan #in gleaming white #while you get a midnight black gown and oof #idk grima doesnt deserves it but he is my poor little meow meow so he gets it anyway #also obligatory psa.. practice all kinks safely ✌

[fizzyxcustard]

@birdkeeperklink and I have been coming up with the best Headcanons ever! Grima, his girlfriend named Olga (who leaves a lot to be desired) and their orgies which are famous far across Edoras. However, no one admits to going to them. It involves why Grima has no eyebrows, how he lost his virginity, Eowyn’s topless modelling career and the blackmailing that Éomer has to partake in to make sure no one knows he attends the orgies (even though everyone knows he does) We meet Grima’s lover: the bland, stringy-haired baker named Olga. She makes shit bread, has fat ankles and a while array of questionable health conditions. We also learn Olga and Grima’s special love song. ;)

These Headcanons will be such a blast to write.

We’ve had such a laugh coming up with it. So thank you for cheering me up!

#grima wormtongue #comedy #grima wormtongue x oc #eowyn #eomer #headcanons #funny! #night queue #lord of the rings

[frodo-with-glasses]

More Reading Thoughts: The King of the Golden Hall

Rohan lesssgoooooo!!

Aragorn’s sleeping habits continue to crack me up. Man lies flat on his back and conks out within seconds of lying down. I’m sorry but that’s hilarious

“‘Speak, Legolas!’ said Gandalf. ‘Tell us what you see there before us!’” Exposition Machine, go!

BRO?? “He is one of the Mearas, unless my eyes are cheated by some spell” was actually a line from SOME RANDOM GUARD AT EDORAS, and they gave it to Legolas, I’m HOWLING

Is Minas Tirith called “Mundburg” in the Rohirric language?? “Burg” means “city”, and I’m guessing “mund” might be “mound” like “tall/mountain”?? I’ll probably have to look at the appendices and check.

(Edit: Unless I am blind, I have checked the appendices and they didn’t say anything about this. Help??)

(Edit two: I have been informed that it DOES mean Minas Tirith! My only mistake was relying on Latin etymology. X-D [Although knowing Tolkien, I wouldn’t put it past him to construct a name using Latin root words and then go back and create an entire fictional etymology for it and go “no, see, this is what it REALLY means—”])

HAMAAAAAAAAAA

Okay lets-get-ready-to-ramble was very right, Aragorn’s hesitation to hand over Anduril is VERY funny. Expect a comic.

Movie!Gandalf: “Oh. *puppy dog eyes* You would not part an old man from his walking stick.” Book!Gandalf: “FOOLS. DISCOURTEOUS WRETCHES. I’M NOT BUDGING AN INCH WITHOUT MY STICK. THEODEN CAN DRAG HIMSELF OUT HERE TO MEET ME FOR ALL I CARE. THE INSOLENCE.”

Aragorn refuses to give up Anduril until Gandalf convinces him. This is Best Friend Energy. Two seconds later, Gandalf refuses to give up his staff, and Aragorn laughs at him. This is PEAK Best Friend Energy.

Theoden really told Gandalf “tbh I was glad you were dead”

Wormtongue insulted Galadriel and Gimli is immediately like “YOU WANNA FIGHT BRO”

DID GANDALF HIT GRIMA WITH LIGHTNING?? HELLO??? ROFLOLOL

“Wormtongue remained lying on the floor” ASDFGHJKLSJDDBK

MISS KIESHA. MISS KIESHA.

OH HE NEED SOME MILK

*BLASTS CARAMELLDANSEN OVER WORMTONGUE ON THE FLOOR*

Do you want more? I can go on.

Okay okay be serious, hooooo—

EOWYNNNNNNN

As far as I can tell, Theoden’s transformation in this chapter is a bit of a treatise on the power of words. Saruman’s magic worked through Grima’s words, over many long years, to poison Theoden’s mind and cripple his body. Gandalf’s healing, likewise, works through words; and though it takes effect far slower than in the movie, it’s remarkably quick compared to the poisoning. Theoden goes from hobbling out his door, to standing tall in the sunlight, to taking up his sword, to commanding his people, all because Gandalf said, “You can—and what’s more, you must.”

“Do not send your faithful Grima away!” Talking in third person again. Gollum, Gollum.

My favorite character in this chapter is the unnamed guard who scooped up water in his helmet to wash the stones Wormtongue spat on. You, sir, are my hero.

Gimli, about the horse emblazoned on his shield: “At least I’m the one carrying this horse instead of the other way around!”

Eowyn already thinks Aragorn is cute. That was fast.

“There is Eowyn, daughter of Eomund, [Eomer’s] sister. She is fearless and high-hearted. All love her. Let her be as lord of the Eorlingas, while we are gone.” HAMA REALLY SAID “RESPECT WOMEN”

I like Eomer and Gimli’s friendly rivalry. More writing about that, please! It’s extremely funny.

Shadowfax running around on the plain while everyone else is busy planning things is a huge mood.

And NOW Gandalf throws off his cloak and reveals the white robes. So dramatic.

#gandalf #aragorn #legolas #gimli #theoden #king theoden #grima wormtongue #eowyn #eomer #shadowfax #lord of the rings #lotr #my writing #assorted thoughts #a surprising amount of funny moments from this chapter

[wishingtobeinadifferentuniverse]

Spoiled Goods (Eomer x Fem!reader)

Word Count: 2181

Warnings: Dark, mentions of sex, bruises, etc. Not a wholesome story that's for sure. I'd rate it PG-13, so please don't read it if it makes you uncomfy, and if you do, well don't say I didn't warn you

Summary: Basically you get used by Wormtongue (Eugh) to keep Eowyn and Eomer safe, and then try and hide it from them. Don't ask how I got such a twisted idea, because IDK

A/N NOT IN THE BOOK OR MOVIES BUT IDC I GOT THE IDEA SO SUCK IT UP

The light shone in my face, piercing through my eyelids. I felt sore all over. And then I heard it. Harsh breathing next to me. Then I remembered what had taken place the night before. What I had sacrificed. But what I had saved. I opened my eyes, and slowly, carefully, got out of the bed. Wormtongue was still asleep thankfully, so I did not have to deal with him at the moment. I picked up my nightgown, putting it on as quietly as possible. Then I grabbed my slippers and slowly opened the door. I heard a bit of stirring, but then the snoring resumed. Once I was in the hallway, I ran as fast as I could, away from that room.

Turning around a corner, I slammed into someone. We both fell to the ground, and when I offered a hand to help the other up, I realized who it was.

"Eowyn, why are you awake this early?" I questioned.

She smiled gently, "I woke up earlier than normal, and I wanted to start some of my work early. Why are you up and walking around in your nightwear? Is everything alright?"

I faked a smile. "Yes Wyn, everything is fine. Well, I will be heading back to my room now!"

I tried to step around her but she blocked me. "Y/n, what is wrong? Your dress is all buttoned wrong, and you aren't even walking from your room. Remember, I know you better than anyone, so stop lying to me."

I faltered. Should I tell her? Should I tell her what I did? Why I did it? No, it would only hurt her. I smiled weakly again. "Wyn, I am fine. Now please let me go to my room." She relented and let me pass her. But she followed me down the hall and into my room. I should have known nothing would stop her from poking in my business. But at the moment, I could care less. I was exhausted, my body hurt, and I just wanted to cry.

We walked into my room and she went straight into the bathroom, where there was already water in the bath, probably meant to be used last night. She dipped her hand in it, testing the temperature.

"Why is there still water in your bath y/n? It was a hot night, so it is at a comfortable temperature. Please do not lie to me. You know how I feel about it." Eowyn said.

I stuttered. "I-I-I don't want to say. You would be disgusted with me. I am already disgusted with myself. "

She countered, "It can't possibly be that bad. You have always been a bit on the dramatic side. Please just tell me."

I could hardly utter the words to myself, much less to her. She would hate me. So I began to unbutton my nightgown. I would not tell her, but I could show her. She gasped when she saw the bruises on my chest, my arms, my thighs. I lowered my head in shame. It looked horrible, to begin with, but it would be even worse when she learned why I had said yes, why I had let him use me.

"What happened?" Eowyn said faintly. She helped me into the bath and then sat next to it, waiting for me to continue.

"W-Wormtongue. He was going to have you and Eomer killed." I was trying to hide the fear, and how mad I was at myself. My eyes began to betray me, welling up slightly.

Eowyn's eyes widened with shock. "That, that horrible!" She could not even finish her sentence, her words distorting with her fury. Her cheeks reddened, clearly enraged. "How dare he even touch you without your permission! I should personally kill him myself! And Eomer helping me! No one is ever allowed to do this to you."

I lowered my eyes, feeling guilt spread through me. "Wyn...he had my permission," I mumbled, not daring to look at her. "But I had to, I could never lose you, or Eomer for that matter."

I heard her shift slightly, her skirts rustling against the floor. "Y/n," she said softly. "I am so sorry that this happened to you. But I do have a question. Why would he have threatened Eomer as well as me? You are not as close, and he has a more fighting chance against him."

I grew even more embarrassed, hardly speaking above a whisper. "Well, originally, it was only you. But last night, I was trying to get my mind off of what he was doing to me, and, well..." I trailed off.

"Well, what?" Eowyn prodded. "Nothing you say will change how I think of you. I don't want to pressure you, and I know talking will help. Please continue."

Still refusing to meet her eyes, I continued. "Wormtongue told me if I was to speak, I was only to say his name. But I got caught in the moment, trying to think of anything else, and said someone else's name instead."

Eowyn sighed in understanding. "So he added Eomer to the list. I see." She put a comforting hand on my shoulder. "Y/n, why didn't you say anything before?"

"I was too ashamed to admit that I had submitted myself to that. It was only a one night deal, but I feel horrible and gross. I feel like spoiled goods, that nobody would want," I responded, finally gaining the courage to look back at her.

She smiled reassuringly. "Well, that is certainly a rotten situation to be in, but I wasn't exactly referring to that. I was talking about Eomer. I presume you have feelings for him. How I did not see this before, I do not know."

I looked down again. "Oh, that. Well, I guess so, but I didn't want to say anything, for fear of ruining a good friendship."

She nodded slowly. "Well, I think I will give you some peace, so please, wash up, and get ready for the day." She started walking out of the room before calling back, "Y/n? I do not think a relationship would be ruined if you were to say something."

Before I could respond, she shut the door, letting me be. I decided not to ponder her words, and just relax in the lukewarm water. I closed my eyes to block the sunlight out. What would Eomer think of me if he heard what I did? I am now spoiled goods. No one will want me after this. No one would want a wife who has been with someone else. I hate myself. How could I do this? No, I knew why I did this. It was worth it. Saving their lives was more important. I began to get out of the bath. I had to face the day  eventually.

As I pulled on my undergarments, I began to notice how dark some of the bruises were getting. My hips were the worst. They were covered with black and blue. Even the ones on my arms were becoming more visible. This was not good, not good at all. I pulled on my dress and darted to Eowyn's room, quickly knocking and entering without waiting. Unfortunately, someone else was there with her, hurriedly speaking.

"Eomer," I breathed, "May I speak with your sister? Alone."

He raised an eyebrow, but nodded, beginning to leave the room. But then he stopped short when he saw my arms. He looked at me with alarm in his eyes but continued to walk out the door. I hardly dared to move, or speak, until I heard the door close behind me.

"Eowyn, I need something to cover my arms better than the dress, it is too pale and you can see the bruises underneath. Do you have anything I might be able to borrow?" I spoke hurriedly, trying to get out of there before Eomer could come back. She nodded, understanding my urgency, and reached into her closet, ruffling through some stuff.

"Here this might work," She suggested, handing me a black, knit-shawl. "I know it is a bit warmer, but it is lightweight. Why are you in such a hurry to leave? If it is because of Eomer, which I am guessing it is, just talk to him. Or at least try. He cares about you a lot too."

I shook my head. "No, it was difficult to tell even you, and besides, caring about someone is different than what I feel for him. I need to go start my duties anyways." I curtsied and headed towards the door. I started down the hall, turning a corner and running into Eomer.

"I really need to check around the corners more often," I grumbled. He chuckled softly.

"How are you doing this lovely morn?" Eomer questioned gently.

I responded quickly. "I am doing just fine. Now if I may," I tried to sidestep around him, determined to leave a difficult conversation before it started. But he grabbed my wrists pulling me back and making me wince. He put my hand in his, showcasing the slight bruising on my wrists. Damn, I should have covered those up. He looked back at me, his eyes darkening.

Very quietly, but laced with danger, he said, "Who did this to you?"

I refused to look at him, slowly pulling my hands out of his grasp. He then began pulling the shawl to the side, gasping softly when he saw the bruises on my arm. He ran his fingers over them, slowly, tenderly. Then he took his other hand, lifting my chin, making me look at him. His eyes pierced mine, and again my eyes betrayed me, beginning to tear up a bit. He withdrew his hand quickly, thinking it was his fault.

"No, you are fine," I whispered. "And I-" My voice broke, I could not admit this to him. I could not tell him what I did. He would be disgusted with me.

"Y/n," his voice was deeper and gravelly, "You can trust me with anything."

I tried turning away again, but he stopped me. "Trust me," He pleaded.

I spoke quietly. "Grima was threatening to kill you and Wyn. I begged him not to, but he only had one way, one thing he wanted me to do in order to never hurt you again. I had no choice, but I hate myself because I let him. But now it is over for me. I am only spoiled goods, no one will ever want me as a wife. So there you go, that is why I was up so early, why I am covered in bruises." This time it was Eomer who turned away, his jaw clenching, his hand turning into a fist.

Then he turned back to me, softly cupping my cheek. "I will kill Wormtongue for even touching you, even if you said yes, he still took advantage of you. Y/n, you will never be spoiled goods, not to me." A tear ran down my face, after all the confessing, I was done, done with everything.

But suddenly I became aware of how little space there was between us, how I was backed against a wall, and how heightened my senses were. He brushed the tear away, his hand a bit calloused. He looked into my eyes, and suddenly I realized what he was looking for, what he was silently waiting for. I nodded, and then he pressed his lips against mine, slowly moving them. I reached my arms around his neck, pulling him closer to me, our bodies pressed together. This was amazing and completely different from what had happened the night before. (This had ya girl turned on af) He moved his hands to the small of my back, pulling me even closer to him.

After several glorious minutes, I was the first to pull away but kept my forehead pressed to his. "How long have you felt this way?" I breathed, barely able to contain the joy I felt.

"Many, many years. I was too afraid to say anything."

"Too afraid?" I teased, "Now that is truly surprising."

He laughed, one of my favorite sounds, before pressing a kiss against my forehead. "My dear, please know that you are worth so much, and that, as I said before, you are not spoiled goods. Please, may I have the honor to court you?"

I smiled even wider. "Of course my lord." He picked up my hand, kissing it gently. "I do need you to do something for me," I said, my mood darkening a bit. "No one else must hear of this, for fear that Wormtongue might hear of it. I do not want to know what he might do if he were to hear of it."

Eomer nodded solemnly. "Anything for you, My Lady," he responded.

And so the days passed. Stolen kisses in the dark, going for walks when no one could see, hiding in plain sight. I could still sometimes feel the ghost of hands on me, but that moved on eventually. And soon enough, it was Eomer, only Eomer, and it was pure bliss. Enemies came and went, threats taken down. And I stayed by his side, as he stayed by mine.

#eomer x reader #eomer #lotr #lotr fanfic

[lotrfics]

IMAGINE: Being childhood friends with Eomer, then reuniting with him after Helm’s Deep

Pairing: Eomer x Reader

Requested: Yes (Hello! May I request a one shot for Eomer where reader is a childhood friend of his, but reader has feelings for him and wants to confess, but he is banished, so in the end they reunite at Helm's Deep and turns out both of them has feelings for each other? A bit angsty but a fluffy ending? Thank you very much!) -Anonymous

Summary: Without Eomer, your life would be pretty boring. You gradually started falling for him, but then Grima Wormtongue banishes him, eliminating your chances of confessing to him

A/N: RIP the nonexistent angst part. Nowhere to be seen, so sorry. Kinda shit if this isn’t what you wanted :O

Rohan, your country, was no longer the same.

You didn’t live in the castle with Eomer, that would be too strange, you weren’t royalty and you had to be related to Theoden, the king, in some way to live there. But your status did not affect your strong friendship with Eomer. You’ve met Theoden before, and he allowed you to visit every once in a while, until his mind was poisoned, he could not recognize you any longer and Grima Wormtongue didn’t like you. So now you and Eomer would only meet outside of the castle.

You two were children when you met, but you have known each other for so long you could not even remember how you met.

The atmosphere of Rohan became gloomy ever since the health of the king drastically declined. Still, that did not stop Eomer from being keeping his optimism and positive expressions, though after a while you can tell it was starting to take it’s toll on him. 

Falling for your childhood friend is something you did not want at all, though you were so comfortable with him you were planning to tell him sometime soon. If he doesn’t feel the same way, why should it matter? You knew him well enough, he would not turn you down just because of a silly crush. You might be embarrassed, but you will get over it.

When you left your home to meet up with Eomer, because he told you to meet up with on this day, you were planning to confess to him, from afar you noticed Eowyn, his sister, running to you. “(Y/N)!” She panted out and stopped sprinting once she was right in front of her. “I thought you needed to know, but Eomer! He’s been banished!” She exclaimed, and your eyes widened. “What? Why?” You asked. Looks like confessing to him was no longer necessary.

“He threatened to kill Wormtongue,” she started, “but his guards arrived before he could do anything else to him.” If only Eomer got some more time, he could have killed Wormtongue, you thought, and began to get a little angry. “Thank you for letting me know,” You weren’t super close with her, but you talk sometimes.

From a distance, you saw a group of riders, led by a familiar man, who you recognized to be none other than Eomer himself, riding away to who knows where.

-

You were there the day a white wizard freed Theoden from the spell. You clearly remembered it, the wizard was with three other companions, a man, an elf, and a dwarf. They were riding on horses then entered a castle, but not before confiscating most of their weapons. Most. The wizard managed to keep his staff, which he called his walking stick.

After a few moments, the same group came back outside, along with the king, who is now looking back to normal, freed from the spell. Much to your relief, Wormtongue was banished, allowing you to visit the castle anytime you wanted, but at the moment, you had no reason to, because Eomer was still missing. 

But Eowyn wouldn’t stop begging you to stay in the castle, so you accepted just so she can stop. Walking around, you saw a couple of photos hung up on the walls. Some were of the king and his son, Theodred, who just died not long ago, altering the succession line. Then there were pictures of all four of them together, then pictures of just Eomer and Eowyn. 

Couple of photos stood out to you. There were pictures of you and Eomer as kids. You smiled fondly as you recalled some of the memories. You obviously missed him, he was able to return now, but you had no idea if he knew Theoden was free now, and you don’t know how someone will inform him, since nobody knows where he went.

You just hoped the new group that helped free the king would bring your friend back one way or another.

-

After Helm’s Deep, you somehow survived, and you remembered seeing Eomer with Aragorn when Theoden made his speech, but you knew that was the wrong time to come up to him and reunite with him. Then, the party happened, so you started searching for him. Theoden and Eowyn told you he could be seen with a dwarf, but you could not find a dwarf and started getting frustrated.

Groaning, you turned to see Eomer watching an elf and a dwarf having a drinking contest. It was an amusing competition, and Eomer’s reactions throughout the contest had made it better, you couldn’t help but watch. Once the dwarf passed out, it was your cue to talk to Eomer.

“You’re back.” You casually stated. He gave you a look. “Yes, I am indeed back, (Y/N), and you don’t sound so pleased with that.” He responded with a mock of offense in his tone. You let out a laugh.

“Sorry if I made you feel that way,” you playfully scoffed, “you know my life would be painfully boring without you.” 

“You may have told me that more than once before.” He chuckled, and you suddenly remembered what you were going to tell him a while back before he got banished. “We would still be friends, right?” You asked, and he immediately turned to you with a confused look on his face. “If I told you I would like to court you sometime? It would not bother you, I hope not?”

He smiled. “What if I told you I would like to court you as well?” He admitted, and if you weren’t already happy before, you were now, and his confession had made your day nothing bad could ruin it.

#lotr imagine #lord of the rings imagine #eomer x reader #eomer imagine

[strangeradventuresofp]

For fandom asks: LOTR?

The first character I first fell in love with: honestly it was probably merry! the scene at bilbo and frodo’s birthday party where him and pippin steal and let off the huge firework literally made me giggle so much.

The character I never expected to love as much as I do now: hmm this is tough. honestly probably eowyn? i have no idea why, i just really didn’t like her the first time i watched. but i absolutely adore her now!

The character everyone else loves that I don’t: hhhh i dunno. probably eomer. its not that i don't like him, i just don’t really care for him. 

The character I love that everyone else hates: smeagol! not gollum, may i just be clear. but smeagol, unless he’s calling sam a fat hobbit in which case i want to snap his neck.

The character I used to love but don’t any longer: uhhhhh i dont think i have one??? i love all of em

The character I would totally smooch: sam, frodo, merry, legolas, aragorn, arwen, eowyn, boromir, haldir, galadriel... must i go on?

The character I’d want to be like: SAM the man is most loyal person and such a great friend are you kidding me. i aspire to be sam gamgee.

The character I’d slap: DENETHOR the man is a prick and i HATE him for what he did to faramir. never ever forgiven. also grima wormtongue cus hes just an asshole

A pairing that I love: literally any of the platonic ships but maybe my favourite platonic ship is merry x eowyn. also arwen x aragorn and eowyn x faramir. also sam gamgee x me

A pairing that I despise: hmmmmm im not even sure? i don’t see many ships that i super hate the idea of.

fandom asks

#p answers #midnightseance #fandom asks #ask game #thanks for the ask my dear!

[theartofbeinganeldar]

The Art of Being an Eldar: Legolas x Reader Chapter 5

Summary: After discovering that you were stuck in Middle-Earth, Thranduil summoned a council of powerful Elves and wizards to see what should be done with you, expressing his wishes of wanting you out of his kingdom. The council decides to send you with Legolas on an orc-hunting mission, and if the Elves of the company that he deems trustworthy-- one of them being his own wife-- say that you've proven yourself worthy of staying among the Mirkwood Elves, then you can stay. The problem is actually managing to succeed...

Chapter No.: Chapter 5

Key: [Y/N]=Your Name [F/N]= Friend's Name [B/N]= Bro's Name [S/N]= Sis's Name [M/N]= Mom's Name [e/c]= eye color [h/c]= hair color [s/c]= skin color [lad/lass/y-o]= lad/laddie, lass/lassie, young one

Notes:  I know I've been trying to keep this story gender-nuetral, but dwarves have a habit of referring to people (Even Gimli to Legolas, though he's a lot younger than our golden boy) as "lad/laddie" "lass/lassie." Or even "young one," I've heard Balin call Bilbo. So for this story, I'll just put [lad/lass/y-o] in parenthesese, and you can just hear whichever one you choose. :)

Warnings: Fluff, angst, graphic depictions of gore and violence (Cuz of orc battles y'know?), more angst, slow burn, some light depression in the first few chapters, some amnesia about Middle-Earth because the Valar say you're not supposed to have foresight, hard-core language, feels, lots and lots of feels, mentions of NSFW content, maybe some eventual NSFW content, LGTBQ+ characters, Thranduil being a jackass at first because he's fabulous, Legolas being a hot edgy prince that nobody can handle, Kili being an innocent bean, Hobbits being smol innocent beans, except for Bilbo 'cause he's been through some tough shit, Bard being dad of the year, Thorin being one dumbass boi, awesome dragons, awesome Nazgul, awesome scenery, awesome stuff in general, Elrond isn't listened to by anybody, confused Aragorn is confused,  Denethor's a bitch as always, brace yourself for creepy as fuck Cream of Wormtongue Grima Wormtongue, Boromir LIVES, Gandalf. (yes these are all legit warnings don't judge me.)

Pairings/Ships: Legolas x Reader, Legolas x you, Aragorn x Arwen, Faramir x Eowyn, Thranduil x Elvenqueen, Galadriel x Celery Celeborn, Boromir x OC, Thorin x OC maybe Bilbo you won't know for awhile, Fili x OC, etc. general LoTR standard shippings plus some of my own cuz I can't stand my boys being lonely

Word Count: I try to keep my chapters short, under 2000 words.

Rating: Teen (14+) for now

The Elves stopped just outside the northern border of the Mirkwood, to the west, to wait for the dwarves. But apparently the little guys just didn't give a shit.

The whole group camped for three days, then three more days, and by the end of it, you were even growing impatient. It was mainly the younger Elves that shared your impatience, but Elves like Elvenqueen and Erestor and Haldir seemed to think that they had all the time in the world, la la fucking la...

Legolas seemed in-between, irritated at the dwarves for being so late but not really caring in the long run. You tried several times to approach him and apologize, but he always seemed to disappear at the most inconvenient times imaginable.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity-- you were getting sick and tired of frolicking-- the sign of a camp on a distant ridge, a couple of days away, gave the Elves hope that the dwarves finally got their heads out of their asses and decided to show up. A couple of Elves seemed to puff some horses out of thin air, and galloped off to meet them.

"We get horses?!" You'd screeched, and wheeled on your friends-- Tauriel hadn't come, so Lindir, Elros, and pissy Blue-Eyes were the only actual friends here you had, even though all the other Elves were very nice to you. "Why the fuck didn't anybody tell me we got horses?!" You could've been riding to pass this time. Not that you knew how to ride a horse, but that wasn't the point.

Elros blinked at you in disbelief. "Those Elves awaited us on the border with horses enough for all. You have not seen them before?"

"No, dammit, or I would've been riding to pass the time!" You hadn't noticed them, because a certain Rivendell Elf had forced you to learn Elvish... You rounded on him. "Lindir! If you hadn't made me sit here and learn Elvish, I could've been riding!"

Lindir stared at you, then slowly raised an eyebrow challengingly. "You do not know how to ride, do you?"

You frowned. "That's not the point!"

Both Elros and Lindir chuckled amongst themselves. You huffed theatrically. "Fine, jackasses. I'm off to pet one of those sweet animals. You can teach me Elvish later."

Before either of them could stop you, you all but ran off, hoping not to slam into anybody or trip or cause something to fall that'd cause a huge mess. You were prone to all of them. And there were horses, enough for everybody there, and three very fat ponies that you almost started squealing over. Those, you guessed, were for the dwarves.

But one horse, out of all of them, caught your eye.

A sleek, gorgeous black, with a bright white star on his forehead. He was built for speed, like a racehorse, but he was sturdy, too. You looked for something to mark him as belonging to a certain Elf-- because you knew Elves loved horses, and that like all horse people, even look at their horse wrong and you make it on their kill list-- but they all seemed randomly selected out of somebody's stables, dressed in the same dark leather tack and saddlebags.

"Oooooh," You approached him quietly, and he nickered softly at you, his dark eyes scanning you and the Elves and the other horses warily. He seemed only recently tamed. "You, fine sir, are gorgeous."

"I beg your pardon?"

You promptly fell backward. Shit! Talking horses, too?! "What the fuck?!"

Legolas, with a smug smirk plastered onto his absurdly perfect face, sailed into existence from around a dapple gray mare. "Valar tell me you were talking to the horse."

"No, I can tell you I was talking to the horse," You sighed in relief, shaking your head as you stood. "But don't worry your platinum head, Goldie, all Elves are equally beautiful creatures."

Legolas rolled his eyes. "Whatever you say, mellon."

You stroked the black's face gently. "No seriously though, he's beautiful. Does he have a name?"

Blue-Eyes didn't look up from brushing his mare's mane. "Most of the horses came from Rivendell and Rohan, which they bought on the journey. The rest came from the Woodland stables. I doubt you will find his name, if he has one."

You felt a little disappointed that you couldn't ask if you could have the horse. You'd always wanted one, but for... Personal reasons that had to do with your biological father, you never got one. "Well... I'll just refer to him as The Black, then."

Blue-Eyes turned around, and started inspecting his tack. "Hm... He seems to have come from our own stables." He stroked behind the stallion's ears, and the horse snuffed appreciatively.

"Legolas," You said quickly, realizing you should catch him when you have the chance. "I'm sorry for not telling you about me leaving if this didn't go well. It wasn't my choice; Thranduil wanted me to go with Elrond that day, but I asked if I could stay. He sent me on this mission to see if I was worthy enough to stay in his Palace of Fabulous. I'm sorry I didn't tell you, but... I didn't think anyone would care if I left."

Blue-Eyes got a confused look. "Why... Why would you think that?"

You gave him a sad, lopsided smile. "No one has before."

Recognition, then regret, flashed across Blue-Eyes's face. "Oh, Sairen... I am truly sorry, mellon nin, I should not have been angry with you. I didn't realize... I should have, and I should not have been upset with you. I just... I do care if you leave, and, if I'm honest, I do not want you to go."

You patted his shoulder. "Just so long as you forgive me."

Blue-Eyes smiled at you. "Of course, mellon, if you can forgive me."

You grinned. "Forgiven." You nudged him with your shoulder. "I'm just glad we're friends again. I've never had so many people be nice to me, but only a handful of you I consider my friends."

"And who among us hold that honor?" He asked teasingly.

Oh shit... You'd seen movies where somebody's asked this question, and if the askee shows even the slightest bit of hesitation or interest in any of the friends, asker became pissed and/or jealous. Wait... Why do I care about that? You turned to him with a huge smile. "Well you and Tauriel, DUH, and then there's Lindir and Elros now. Just wait, I'll be friends with Haldir and Erestor too, and then your mom-- by the time I'm finished I'll even make your dad like me!"

Legolas chuckled. "I hope so, mellon."

"By the way," You said, and reached down to grab a handful of grass to give to the Black. "Lindir and Elros are trying-- and failing-- to teach me Elvish. I'm a horrible student, namely because I'm Elvish-challenged. Still, I'm learning, and I want you to teach me something very specific."

He looked confused. "What?"

You smiled. "Teach me the history of Middle-Earth! Everything you can! I can't read Elvish, but you can, and you know the stories pretty well, I'm guessing. So start with how the world began and continue on from there."

Legolas smiled. "Very well, Sairen." In one quick movement, he mounted his mare, then reached down for your hand. "Come. We will ride, and I will tell you all that I know."

You took his hand, feeling a spark from static you'd built up from petting the horse. He hefted you effortlessly up behind him, then urged his horse into a canter as you rode away from camp.

***

Needless to say, you fell off twice.

Once, you let go of Legolas for just a second as his mare jumped a small log, and whoops, there you go. After, still not learning your lesson, you let go of him while trotting beside a river and the horse's gait made you slide right off before you even realized what was happening.

Then you learned not to let go of Blue-Eyes, mostly because he laughed his Elvish ass off every time you fell, after making sure you were okay.

As for world history, it was all very confusing. There were like six different versions of somebody and a hundred different other guys shared the same name and places and descendants and confusing time periods and just ugh. That was one thing you remembered from Earth: Tolkien's works had always been confusing.

Long story short, though, there was a guy called Eru, or Illuvatar, and he created a bunch of friends through thought. These friends of his became the Valar, and Illuvatar created the whole universe-- Ea-- through more thought. Then he had all his friends-- fourteen of them-- sing, and they created the vision of Valinor, then Arda, and the mischief-maker was Melkor, brother of god-king Manwe.

Now, after a long bout of building and making and stuff they created Valinor and Tirion and Mandos and all that, and they created birds and beasts, but Melkor got jealous and tried to ruin it at every fucking turn. Seriously, the guy didn't give them a break.

Then, Aule, another Valar, who made a lot of shit, wanted to have a bunch of kids so created the little guys known as dwarves, and made them to be especially tough and hardy and stuff because they were supposed to be around during the time of Melkor. But, Illuvatar appeared in his living room one night and said "I think the fuck not my kids come first" which made Aule reeeaaaaaallly upset, so he tried to kill the dwarves (Supreme parenting 2.0!), but then Illuvatar said "wait idiot they can still live" so Aule put them in stasis-mode for like several million years, until somebody "accidentally" unleashed some new Elves into Middle-Earth-- which had no moon or sun.

So duh Orome shows up, says "hi" and everybody runs for their lives except for a few brave souls, who round everybody back up. So three particular Elves, Finwe, Lenwe, and Ingwe, who you're pretty sure were brothers, went to Valinor with Orome to see if it was suitable for Elves-- and it was pretty much Elven paradise, or Vegas or something.

THUS CAME THE FIRST SUNDERING OF THE ELVES, or, that's how dramatically Leggy told it; the Teleri came to rest on the shores of Aman instead of going still further (Who earlier had split further and some became the Sindar, who had stayed in Beleriand, and the Silvan Elves, who'd stayed in the forests of Beleriand or something, of which Blue-Eyes was the first.), the Nandor who got scared of mountains and refused to go further, and the Noldor, who came all the way to Valinor.

Once actually in Aman, the Elves loved it there. They were in paradise. Water. Books. Flowers. Sparkles. Everything an Elf dreamed of. They built a city on a huge hill called Tirion upon Tuna (No you refrained from laughing.), made of silver and gold and more sparkles, and there was lots of peace, until Melkor was finally caught and chained.

Peace, lots of peace, boring shit, more peace, then BAM, the idiot Valar let the bastard go, like dumbasses. Melkor hadn't changed of course, no one does. He started rumors like some crazy gossiper and started up a whole bunch of shit. At that time, this guy called Feanor was around. He was like, the Elf of Elves, but he had some breathtaking anger management issues because after his mom died, his dad waited like a couple thousand years then got married again, and he definitely did not like his stepmom.

Or his two half-brothers.

They were pretty cool guys, Fingolfin and Finarfin, and each brother had like a dozen kids each, one of Finarfin's, get this, was Galadriel. One of Thingol's kin? Celeborn. Elrond? Yeah, he's the grandson of Beren and Luthien, the son of Earendil, raised by Maglor, related to Turin, and his grandparents were Tuor and Idril, the latter of which was the daughter of Turgon, who was the son of Fingolfin, who was the brother of Feanor, so yeah.

Holy fucking shit. Their god stories were kinda hard not to believe when people still existed who could vouch for them.

So this Feanor guy created a trio of sparklies beyond all sparklies, called, the Silmarils. He got a mild case of dragonsickness, boasting and hoarding and showing off and gloating, but Melkor made him think his brothers were trying to steal his sparkles, which, fuck no, how dare they, and he made his brothers think that Feanor was trying to usurp their father Finwe's throne.

Damn that guy knew how to stir up some shit.

One of Melkor's chief servants? Sauron, the Dark Lord, previously known as Sauron the Sparkly Maiar Who Wouldn't Hurt A Butterfly. Balrogs? Yup, Melkor made them, too.

Basically, Feanor started a revolution against the Valar and Melkor, who he called Morgoth, because Melkor was just too pretty of a name for such a bad guy, who stole every single light with the help of a hideously large spider called Ungoliant, killed Finwe, then took the Silmarils.

Feanor was piiiiiiissed.

So the Noldor left Tirion, killed some guys that tried to reason with them that turned out to be Elves, the Teleri, got cursed by Mandos, then Feanor, his sons, and a couple hundred who he knew didn't question him set off on stolen boats and burned them when they reached shore, leaving everybody else-- Galadriel included-- to walk the fucking Helcaraxe, a snowy strait wasteland, to get to Beleriand, which was filled with sparkling twinkle-toes Elves and much-less-serious dwarves-- who were friends.

There was also a good portion of the story dedicated to Turin, Beren and Luthien, and the couple known as Maedhros and Fingon, who you instantly adored: Maedhros, chained to a jagged cliffside for who-knows-how-long, and Fingon, who wanted so badly to save him, and eventually carried up to the cliffside by an eagle; he had to cut off Maedhros's hand, but the story was so heartfelt you were still internally squealing about it.

Yeah so that happened, and then a bunch of war and slaying and something about a Fall of Gondolin and the Children of Hurin and Beren and Luthien leading up to a whole lot of human-caused shit with Numenor, and then Illuvatar blew everything up and restarted, essentially. Toward the end of the second age, Sauron (The fucker had somehow lived through all that evil-cleansing shit.), in the form of a fancy-prancy Elf named Annatar, suggested the making of the Rings of Power. Three, a smart guy who hadn't fallen for any of Annatar's shit, Celebrimbor, hid for the Elves, while Sauron/Annator helped forge the rest in order to control them, making one ring, above all.

Three Rings for the Elven-kings under the sky,

Seven for the dwarf  lords in their halls of stone,

Nine for mortal men doomed to die,

And one for the Dark Lord on his Dark Throne,

In the land of Mordor where the shadows lie,

One Ring to find them,

One Ring to bring them all and in the darkness bind them,

In the land of Mordor where the shadows lie.

That was totally cool and stuff, and a handful of well-known Elves-- Gil-Galad, Glorfindel (Who'd uh, previously died due to a balrog trying to touch his hair.), Elrond-- and you're betting Galadriel, Celeborn, and Thranduil-- plus a bunch of well-known humans, lead by Isildur's dad, Elendil, and probably some dwarves, all came together with their armies and formed the Last Alliance of Elves and Men, totally discounting every dwarf that was there.

The nine kings who'd been given rings? Yeah, those were cursed, and because Men are greedy, they became shadows of their former selves, black-clad servants of Sauron, known as the Ringwraiths-- or, even cooler, Nazgul.

So there was a huge battle. Gil-Galad fell. Isildur's dad fell. Isildur cut off the One Ring from Sauron's hand, Sauron faded away, and Elrond took Isildur into Mount Doom to destroy the Ring. But he was weak, and was seduced by its power, and Elrond just stood there screaming his name apparently.

So there'd been roughly a couple thousand years of peace, and nobody knew where the Ring was. You doubted it was anywhere safe or secure, and much less that Sauron was actually dead.

Also, the Elves were fading. That scared you.

"What?! Great, I got sucked into a world where I'm just gonna die!"

Legolas laughed. "No, mellon nin, we are fading. Not dying. We just long for home, and our kind is slowly leaving Middle-Earth. This world becomes gray to us after so long of living here. We go across the sea, to the Undying Lands of Aman and Valinor."

"Okay," You leaned around him to see his face. "What is it with you Elves and the sea?! What's so important about it, if even you've never seen it yourself?! I certainly haven't seen any kind of ocean or sea."

Blue-Eyes smiled at you. "The first sound ever heard by the Elves was flowing water. It calls us home, in a way. It is said by my people that in water there yet lives the echo of the Music of the Ainur that first created this world."

"Huh," You said, tilting your head. "Guess that does make it really interesting..."

The sound of another pair of hoofbeats, coming up from behind, nearly made you fall off of the horse again. "Orcs?!"

Blue-Eyes grinned smugly. "Orcs do not ride horses, Sairen."

"Duh. I knew that. Fuck you."

"I'd rather you not without my consent."

"That's not always what it means!" You hid your blush by moving so your head was behind his back. Damn Elves...

It was Erestor, riding a gorgeous flaxen stallion. "Legolas, Elvenqueen calls upon the company of [Y/N]."

Nervously, you peered around Blue-Eyes's side. "Is that bad?"

Legolas spurred his own mare into a canter as he followed after Erestor. "Not in the least, mellon."

When you returned to camp, Erestor and Legolas took care of the horses, while they sent you on ahead-- by yourself, to a scary yet badass Elvenqueen you might glare you out of existence if you breathed wrong, like the wonderful friends they were-- to the Elvenqueen.

She sat by one of the center campfires, surrounded by a drove of Elves eagerly listening to whatever she was saying. Even in the firelight, she looked really young, but really regal and noble and even though she didn't have a wrinkle on her body you could tell she'd been around for eons.

All went silent when you approached. Nervously, you bowed. "Y-you wished to see me, your majesty?"

"Yes," She said, and waved to a place on a log across from her. "Sit."

You weren't terrified or anything. Just 'cause she decided not to skin you alive a couple days ago didn't mean she couldn't change her mind. You caught a glimpse of Elros in the crowd, and he gave you a reassuring nod: Don't worry, you won't die yet.

Comforting.

"Tell something of your world," She said.

You balked. Hadn't Thranduil told her everything you'd said? They seemed like the type of couple to do just that. Hadn't Legolas at least given her some information? They seemed close. You swallowed hard, readjusting yourself on the log. "What uh... What do you want to know?"

She thought for a second. "A tale."

You shifted. Sure, that was specific. You'd read billions of books (Well, maybe not quite that much...), but you couldn't remember any that Elves would want to hear aside from series’, like Temeraire, or The Gospel of Loki, or Eon the Last Dragoneye. Maybe you could use a movie, but Marvel and Transformers were too long and in-depth. You thought for a minute. You didn't even know how to give a much-shortened version of Eragon.

But out of everything, it was your best bet to tell a story and be safe from explaining your world's past, or things of your world, or cultures, mythology, or the concept of giant robots from another planet that hide by transforming into cars. Eragon was the closest thing you had to Lord of the Rings that you could remember right off the top of your head that was most similar; it had some of the same beasts, like dragons and werewolves, it was set in the same genre and had dwarves and Elves and Men, even if urgals were a new one... Then again, you weren't sure how they'd take dragons being good instead of hoarding assholes.

So, you got started.

As a hobby, you wrote a lot of fanfiction, which had mainly been for Lord of the Rings; you couldn't remember any of it now, of course, but you'd also started your own fantasy stories that had never been published. You were good with storytelling.

There were points where you had to pause and remember what happened next, or try to find words that explained the guilt or sadness or general feels of the story, but you did pretty good. By the time you were finished, the sun had came up and it was already noon, and the Elves that'd gone off to see if that camp was for dwarves were coming back, with a couple of pony-sized rams with shaggy coats carrying three tiny buff hairy guys.

Elvenqueen regally stood. "My thanks, [Y/N]. That was a wonderful story." She sailed through the ranks of the Elves, which parted before her like reeds to a boat.

"Is that a true story?" Lindir asked you, eyes wide.

You scoffed. "If it were true, I'd've had a dragon named Saphira or Shruikan. I have no dragon." You clapped your hands together. "So! When do I get to meet the dwarves?"

Blue-Eyes-- who'd joined later in the story, and another Elf caught him up on what was going on while he half-listened to what else was going on-- mockingly rolled his eyes. "Patience, mellon. I cannot think of any Eldar whom would willingly want to make the acquaintance of a dwarf."

You gave him a pointed look. "What about Thingol's people?"

Silence. Finally, Elros busted out laughing, and clapped the now-stunned Legolas on the back. "They have a point, mellon!"

But Blue-Eyes was right. It was only a couple hours before you were sought out by a Lothlorien Elf, who told you Thorin wanted to meet "the one who hailed from far." Apparently, nobody here felt like saying "the person that came from another planet." Not as mysterious, apparently.

So you followed the Elf to a tent, much smaller than those of the Elves, and a lot less colorful and, dare you say it, fashionable. Literally, it just looked like a bunch of old dark-colored blankets had been stitched together haphazardly. But, if you looked at the tools and tack of the rams, they were just doing it in spite of the Elves, because they had really good craftsmanship.

You weren't sure what to do. "Uhhh... Knock knock?"

You belatedly remembered one of the dwarves was royalty. "Sirs?"

The flap of the tent opened, and you got your first look at a dwarf.

He was an older dwarf, with a long graying beard and frizzy hair, and huge round ears. He looked you up and down in a brief but kind inspection, and, came to the very educated conclusion of, yup, not your normal Elf.

The dwarf smiled. "Ah, you must be [Y/N]." He sounded more Scottish than anything, and you were instantly relaxed. "The one from a far place. Not a normal Elf, then?"

You shook your head. "No sir. Just got here about a month and a half ago, actually."

He raised a hand. "Now now, we are all a part of this expedition, and I don't like being referred to as 'sir.' I am Balin to you."

You couldn't help but smile. He was a lovable little guy, a very sweet old dwarf. "Okay then. But, uh... Should I call Thorin or Dwalin 'sir'?"

Balin thought about that. "Ehhh... Thorin, yes. Dwalin? No."

You nodded, and Balin lead you inside the tent. It was pretty cozy, with three logs covered in roughish furs for makeshift beds. A small cooking fire was set up in the middle, and two other dwarves sat by it, halting their dwarvish conversation when they seen you and Balin. "This is they," Said Balin, in an introductory way. "[Y/N], child of [M/N], from far places."

The dwarf who you assumed was Dwalin-- buff, sleeveless, and with viscious muttonchops that made him look like Wolverine-- scoffed. "Tell me," Holy shit, he sounds like Leonidas from 300! "[Y/N], do you perhaps come from the Iron Hills?"

"Iron... What?" You were confused. Hadn't any of the Elves talked about you being from Earth? "N...No. I come from a place called Earth."

"Dwalin," Said the other guy, who radiated kingship, authority, and regal dwarfish-ness. He didn't take his eyes off you, like you were a predator ready to strike that he was wary of. He had a beard, but braided neatly down, and long dark hair. He wore dark navy blue and brown fur armor, and his voice was like, super deep. "They are not of the Iron Hills."

"Uh... Thank you?"

Thorin stood, and you bowed. "I'd uh, use some really respectful greeting, but I don't know any in dwarvish yet, so, it's an honor to meet you, Thorin, son of Thrain."

Thorin nodded. "I would say the same, if I knew you deserved any honor," He replied. Ouch.

You didn't know what to say. He obviously had no love for Elves. "What uh... What made you think I was from the Iron Hills, wherever that is?"

"To the east of Erebor, [lad/lass/y-o]," Balin informed you, and Dwalin whacked him so hard upside the head you could've swore they broke something.

"Oh. What made you think--"

Thorin looked at you with a look that said stfu so you did. "The dwarves of Erebor think little of Elven magic, or wizards. We did not believe a portal strong enough to pull someone from another world could exist. And as I have discovered, it does not."

You were confused. "What do you mean? You mean the ears? Those were latex, I swear, but suddenly they weren't. You can ask Thranduil, I'm not from these parts."

Thorin glared at you. "I would rather not converse with the Elvenking. He does not hear the word of others. As for you... It is clear you are merely an Elf of strange upbringing, who lost themselves in the wrong woods."

"Okay," You were starting to get irritated. You loved Middle-Earth, but you weren't from Middle-Earth. You didn't belong, like always, and you were ready to defend your position. In Game of Thrones--you'd never gotten far in that series, and had only started the books-- Tyrion Lannister told Jon Snow to armor himself in what people thought his weakness was, so that it would no longer be his weakness. That's exactly what you'd done over the course of your life, and you weren't about to lose that now. "Listen, I can show you the damn portal. It wasn't made by Elves, or wizards, or any of that other shit. The inscription on the portal came from the time of Gondolin, if that means anything to you. Do I talk like an Elf, to you? Do I act like one? The Elves were ready to kill me, just because I breathed wrong near their damn trees after being chased by orcs on oversized dogs. If I weren't from another world, do you honestly think I'd have such elaborate stories?"

Behind Thorin, Balin patted his hands down, giving you the silent signal to shut up. Glacing at Thorin's pissed off face made you listen. "How am I to believe you?"

You made a face. "Don't you dwarves have any kind of lie-detecting abilites?"

Balin sighed. "None that we can think of, [lad/lass/y-o]."

You huffed in defeat. "Okay, okay, you know what? You dwarves are beyond stubborn, so I'll just tell you once: I come from another world. If you don't believe me, fine, but I'd actually like to make friends with dwarves, thank you very much."

"Oh!" Dwalin chuckled deeply. "Then they must not be an Elf, Thorin! None in their right mind would go cavorting with a dwarf!"

Thorin frowned. "Perhaps a spy... But wait... You are not of the Woodland Elves. I see that now."

You looked down at yourself. "Gee, what gave it away?"

"You carry yourself differently," He began to circle you, and you felt like you were being circled by a vulture. An angry vulture... "Most unlike them, or any Elf I have heard tale of. Whom were you raised by?"

"Uh, my mother," You quipped with a cocked eyebrow. "Her name is [M/N]."

"And where do your kin reside? With the Rangers of Dúnadain?"

"With the what? Is that some kind of club?"

"Club?" Thorin repeated. "You believe that to be a weapon?" He gave you a disbelieving look, and you sighed.

"No, no. Where I come from, a club is a group of people that gather together and talk about stuff they like, or try to run the schools or shit like that," You were trying to explain with excessive hand movements, but you only seemed to be freaking him out.

He narrowed his eyes. In a rough and rusty language that sounded like it could be dwarvish, he said something; you didn't even catch any of the words.

You stared at him blankly for a second. "Mae g'ovannen...?" You tried, wincing at your hopeless pronunciation of the words.

Thorin regarded you with a newfound look of awe. Behind him, Dwalin chuckled. "That, was his attempt at Elvish. And you did not understand what he said?"

You stared. "...No? Was I supposed to? Did you just say something important? Or insult me? Hey, I'm only just starting to learn Sindarin!"

Thorin's look of awe shifted to a scowl and a bitter smirk. "It was not Sindarin, I can assure you. It was Quendi, that of the Noldor, the only Elvish my people know."

"Quen-- Oh, I get it now. Different Elves, different languages, it's all coming together..." You swung your arms casually. "Ok, so, what'd you say?"

"I told you that you are an imposter, and no better than Orc-filth" Said Thorin absentmindedly, "Which would send any Elf into a fit of well-groomed rage."

You couldn't help yourself. You burst into a fit of giggles, making all three dwarves look at you weirdly. "I-I'm sorry," You wheezed, "'Well-groomed rage'; yeah, that's pretty much what they do!"

"What of this quest, then?" Challenged Thorin as he took a seat. He gestured for you to do the same. "If you are not of the Wood Elves, yet you are indeed Elven, why are you on this journey? What purpose do you have here?" He poured you a drink; you'd never really tasted ale or mead of any kind, and recoiled from the smell.

"In order for you to understand, I'd have to tell you the story," You told him, and he gestured for you to continue. So you did. "I fell from the highest branches of an oak tree playing a game with my family. It was a standard day. Standard, pointless life. A life in a dying world that was way too fucking overpopulated, in the wrong damn places. It was a twisted kind of home. I didn't like it, and did what I wanted, so people hated me. I was dressed as an Elf--hence the ears.

"I wake up in the middle of the night, still in the forest, and am suddenly being chased by orcs on the backs of oversized dogs with six-packs on their faces."

Thorin grew confused. "Six-pack? What is that?"

You patted your stomach. "Those rows of six square tight muscles you get on you stomach if you work out. Now lemme finish!

"I get caught up in a river, shot by an arrow, and am half-dead by the time the Elves arrive lead by Blue-Eyes-- uh, Legolas-- and they're ready to kill me, but because I'm pretty much dead and in their forest, I'm some kind of threat. Because they're real nice like that. Thranduil-- who I kindly refer to as, Lord Fabulous-- wanted Leggy to kill me on the spot. Blade to my neck and everything. Until I pointed out that I could go home if we found the portal and would never return by pain of death. Ouch, but whatever.

"So we look, find it, and surprise! Can't get through. Can never see my family again. Can never go home. Suddenly I'm a real Elf. I go into a kind of depression before I realize that this place was a fictional world from where I'm from, which I'd loved, but for some reason can't remember shit now." You pointed to him. "Your name is important. Very. I know that much. You do something really cool, probably.

"But the Council of Wisdomy Guys was summoned, and they decided that it would be best if I proved my worthiness to stay among the Wood Elves on this mission. No pressure!" You grinned maniacally. "What brings you here? I hear a certain gray-robed wizard?"

"Ah, yes," He sighed. "Gandalf. My father met with him whilst I was in the depths of Erebor, so I heard no word of it and could make no protest against it until my father told me that I was to travel with two of my choice to assist the Elves. I only tolerate this for my father's sake, and he claims this will be a good lesson for kingship one day. But when I heard word of someone from foreign lands, I feared it was the dwarves of the Iron Hills attempting some form of scheme. Never have they liked us, and they never shall."

You scoffed. "Yeah, well... Most of the Elves may not like you either, but some of them aren't so bad."

Dwalin choked on his bread. Balin gave you a sad look. "But they tried to kill you!"

You shrugged. "I'm used to getting awful treatment. And besides, now that they know me, I've made some friends. Tauríel, the Captain of the Guard; Lindir of Rivendell, and Elros son of Elrond... And then there's Blue-- Legolas."

"Why d'ya refer to him that way?" Dwalin demanded with a disgusted look.

You shrugged. "A nickname. Where I come from, it's a gesture of friendship. I call Lindir 'Lindy' and he hates it, I can tell."

Thorin snorted. "Well, [Y/N] of Earth... Should the Wood Elves refuse your company, Dale might make a nice, temporary placement until you find elsewhere."

You smirked, nodding slowly. "I heard that emphasis on temporary. Don't worry; I thank you for your hospitality, but Lord Elrond is staying at the palace until I return. If I fail, he'll take me back to Rivendell with him."

"Good. One less Elf on our borders to deal with."

"Oh screw off."

Thorin grinned bitterly, but waved a hand. "Begone, I am done with questioning you."

You scoffed, and Dwalin took your drink and guzzled it. to your shock and amazement. Out of the three of them, only Balin wished you a goodnight.

But you weren't tired, which you realized as you found yourself heading back toward the horses. "[Y/N]," Said a familiar voice, and you turned to see Haldir striding toward you.

You bowed, suddenly recognizing him as somebody of high rank. "Mae l'ovannen, Haldir of Lothlorien. What's up?"

He blinked in confusion. "I..." He slowly looked up. "Believe the stars..."

You chuckled. "No, no; that's an expression, where I come from. It means how are you doing, what is it you need, nice to see you, etcetera etcetera."

He stared at you. "...'Et... Cetera...?'"

You slumped over. "Oi... It means a general list of similar meanings that're implied but nobody feels like saying."

Haldir smiled. "Oh, I see. Lindir wished for you to return, so that you could continue your lessons in Sindarin." He didn't miss your look of disappointment. He smirked. "Perhaps, when you are finished with Sindarin, and already know Common, Quenyan would be best for you to learn."

"Pfft," You waved a hand. "I'll live forever. Might as well. I'll toss some dwarvish in there while I'm at it."

Haldir made a face. "I suppose that is up to you, but every dwarf speaks Common, so it would not pose any form of language barrier for that to be avoided..."

*** You were woken up no later than the crack of fucking dawn, by an elaborate blowing of horns that probably alerted ninety-seven percent of the orcs of the northern borders to your presence, but oh what the hell.

What else you woke up to?

"Galu, mellon nin," Said Legolas with a shit-eating grin. "Ci maer?"

Slowly, your groggy eyes went from wide to thin, angry slits. "...I swear to the Valar, Blue-Eyes... I just fucking woke up. What are you saying? Speak in Common, or I'll tear you limb from limb because I am not a morning person."

He gave you a look, but couldn't wipe the smile off his face. "Le leich, Sairen. But if you are going to learn Elvish, then you must actually try to do so. Tell me, what did I say?"

You shrugged and slumped over onto a log. "Grapefruit, melons win, kid mobster."

Blue-Eyes chuckled, but internally, you busted out laughing after realizing what you said. "No, [Y/N], you have to do this. Concentrate. What did I say?"

With a sigh, you thought about Lindir's grueling lessons with you yesterday. "...You said, 'A blessing,' which is basically 'hi,' first; Galu. Then you said 'my friend,' and, 'are you well.'"

Blue-Eyes nodded, looking excited that you were getting the hang of Elvish. "Excellent. Now respond to me in Sindarin."

You resisted the urge to roll your eyes. In the most unenthusiastic tone you could muster, you said, "Galu, Legolas, ni maer. A gin?" Blessings, Legolas, I am well. And you?

"Ni maer," He replied, then began polishing his bow. "Worry not, Sairen, soon Sindarin will come to you thoughtlessly. You already swear to our gods, instead of your own."

You did roll your eyes this time. An idea hit you. "Hey..." You looked at him with a huge smirk. "What's fuck you in Elvish?"

Legolas paled, then blushed. "You will learn how to speak intimately to another later--"

You huffed. "NO! What's your most offensive insult?!"

Blue-Eyes thought for a minute. "...Ego, which is the equivalent to what you mean when you proclaim that Common phrase of yours... Hopefully, most of the time."

You bit back a laugh. "...Eggo? As in, L'eggo my eggo?"

Blue-Eyes gave you a concerned look. "I... I am not sure what you mean, and it is not pronounced as you say it."

Commotion started up, and you spun around in your seat wildly to try and see why everybody was suddenly moving and packing up. "What's goin' on?"

Legolas smiled. "Well, Sairen, we are off to track the orcs."

You looked at him in a panic, pointing futilely to an Elf packing up the cooking supplies. "B-but... What about breakfast?" That sentence reminded you of someone... Someone small and innocent and prone to causing disasters... But who? Blue-Eyes didn't give you time to figure it out.

"You will not starve, mellon nin," He told you gently, and stood. "You are an Eldar now; you'd best learn what your body can do now rather than later." He smiled down at you. "Dadwenithon."

As if you understood what that meant, he practically skipped away. "...Dad marathon?" You repeated in disbelief. You got up and went to find somebody you knew, preferably not the Elvenqueen, Erestor, Haldir, or Thorin, because they'd just find you childish, or annoying. Elros was quick to find, and you approached him and his palomino steed with a very confused expression.

"Hey Elros?"

Elros looked up from brushing his horse's mane and smiled. "Ai, len suilon, mellon nin. Ci maer?"

You rolled your eyes. Stupid Elves and their five hundred different ways to say 'hi...' "Galu, Elros. Ni maer, a gin?"

"Ni maer eithro. What brings you to my company?"

"What the hell does dad marathon mean?"

Elros froze and looked at you like you were crazy. "I beg your pardon?"

You gestured wildly over your shoulder. "Legolas got up, walked away, and said dad marathon! And I've got no idea what he said!"

Elros grinned knowingly. "Ai,Legolas said dadwenithon. It means, roughly, I will return." He gave you a disgusted look. "And that is not how it is pronounced at all."

"Oh. Dadwenithon?"

Elros smiled proudly. "Yes! Precisely! Well done! But if Legolas told you he would return to you, evidently he meant for you to stay where you were."

Your eyes bugged out of your head. "Oh. I'll be going, then. Novaer." You didn't realize you'd said an Elvish farewell until you'd reached where you'd originally been seated, but that jumped out of your head when you seen Legolas waiting with his dappled mare and the black stallion (Heh heh...) from yesterday.

"Ooh! What's this all about?"

"I decided you should have your own mount throughout the course of this journey," He replied with a smile. "He is yours for now. Name him as you will, and by the end of this journey, I shall see if you may keep him."

You stared at him like he'd just grown a second head. "Wh... What? Keep him?"

Legolas smiled. "Surely you would wish to ride at will throughout the northern parts of Mirkwood?"

A huge smile spread across your face, and you excitedly spread your hands. "Well, duh! Gin hannon, Legolas! I'll call him..." You took the reins and looked him in the eye. "Starlight. I've always wanted a black horse called Starlight."

Blue-Eyes patted your back. "Well done, mellon. Already, Elvish is beginning to seep into your speech."

You looked at him in surprise. "I did that on purpose you dumb blond."

Legolas's eyes widened slightly. "Man?" Which you understood as, What?

You stuck your tongue out at him and crossed your eyes. "Blehlehleh!"

He recoiled. "What are you doing?"

With a laugh, you stroked Starlight's muzzle. "Messing with you. So you get up from the left side, right?"

Blue-Eyes just looked at you like you were crazy, then shook his head. "Yes, I suppose."

You went around to the left flank of the steed, which snorted suspiciously at you, like it wanted to know what the fuck you were doing. You peered at Blue-Eyes over the stallion's back. "Gimme a leg up?"

Legolas flushed and stared at you blankly. "If that is one of your vulgar insults, I swear to Illuvatar..."

A laugh escaped your throat. "No! Hell no! It means help me up, you moron!"

A sweet smile crossed Blue-Eye's features. "Well, then, come here, mellon nin, and I will aid you." He interlaced his fingers together as he bent down, allowing you to grip both ends of the saddle, step into his hand, and haul yourself up. You nearly fell off the other side, but just managed to catch yourself before you made yourself look like a complete idiot in front of Blue-Eyes, who noticed your struggle but said nothing, to your sweet relief.

Elros trotted through camp on his palomino, saying "Und wendo'hein!"

Legolas mounted his dapple-gray, and looked you up and down. "You are not sitting correctly." He told you, and reached over to pull your shoulders back. "Your shoulders need to make a line to your ankles in the stirrups."

You rolled your eyes sarcastically. "Great, now you sound like my collection of Young Rider magazines."

"Your what?" Legolas looked almost offended.

"It's basically a book only about twenty pages long made of cheap paper and filled with random tidbits of information. This series I started collecting when I was eight or nine, then continued until I was about twelve, thirteen... I had a lot of them. I loved horses."

Blue-Eyes furrowed his brow. "Did you have one?"

You scoffed. "In my world, you either have to be rich like Saddle Club or own a farm like Racing Stripes. Or, by some miracle get saved by a badass black Arabian stallion on a desert island." You smiled cheekily at him. "Which, by the way, your facial structure really reminds me of an Arabian horse's. Dished, kinda. And perfect and majestic and all that shit."

Blue-Eyes just looked like he was suddenly being attacked by a pack of savage wargs and he wasn't quite sure what to do. You grinned, and did the first thing all of the books and movies you'd read as a kid had taught you: gently tap your heels into the horse's flanks, and carefully guide their head with the reins. Starlight tossed his head, eager to get moving at a faster pace, and nickered softly as he started off at a walk. Legolas beamed at you as he rode beside you. "Well well, Sairen, it seems you are a natural at riding a horse. Perhaps the blood of the Eldar is finally starting to take a hold of you."

"Not quite," Said a new voice, and Lindir rode up on a sleek bay with a mischievous smile. "Suilad, Legolas! [Y/N]! Your Elvish is improving, but you still need to learn more."

You slumped in the saddle. "Augh, man, do I have to?"

Legolas and Lindir grinned wickedly at each other. "Ai, Lindir, man í lú?"

"Ú, Legolas. Eithro, ci maer?"

"Ni maer, mellon nin, ni maer."

So for a whole five or six hours on the trip, you got bombarded on either side by Blue-Eyes and Lindir trying to teach you Sindarin. At the end of the day, the Elvenqueen asked you for another story, so you told her the first one that popped into your head that you could honestly remember most of: Alladin's Lamp. It had been your favorite fairytail as a child, and while it was meant for younger audiences, the Elves enjoyed it just as much.

Then, Thorin asked to see you again. He asked about your world, and what it was like, and you were happy to get to know them, even if you were an Elf now.

And that's how it went, for the next few weeks. Unfortunately, at some point you'd run out of memorized storybooks, so you focused on myths from various mythologies, and then, even movies. 300 seemed to be a favorite of Thorin's, who overheard, but the Elves were especially interested in Gods of Egypt and The Hunger Games, and the Jedi from Star Wars. When you ran out of that material (It was a long trip with long nights, because apparently Elves didn't really get the concept of sleep.), you even switched to games; Darksiders and The Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim got their attention, as did The Legend of Zelda.

But of all the damned stories you told them, they seemed most interested in Shakespeare, of all things. You only barely remembered reading Midsummer Night's Dream out of curiosity, but Romeo and Juliet, thankfully, everybody knew the gist of. Thanks to a certain Tom Hiddleston, you knew Coriolanus by heart, so that one wasn't too hard of a story to tell, and neither was (Onc you finally got them off of Shakespeare.) Pirates of the Caribbean, a classic for you, which, one of the characters, now that you thought of it... Will Turner... You couldn't quite remember his face, or Balian's from Kingdom of Heaven, which they all really liked, especially Legolas.

Eventually, the queen dubbed you Taleweaver, which you thought sounded pretty cool, but also a little nerve-wracking, because what if you ran out of stories to tell? You forced yourself to be casual. No worries. You were a writer, after all, just... Now your audience consisted of fantasy people instead of Tumblr bloggers.

No pressure.

One day, Legolas approached you alone as you groomed Starlight. "Yo," You said, s'upping him. "S'up?"

Blue-Eyes looked like you'd just thrown something at him. "Man?" You rolled your eyes. "Galu, mellon, galu. What is it?"

Legolas scoffed. "My mother has declared only a small party of us, including the dwarves, shall scout ahead and see if we can find their trail. Of the party is myself, Elros, Erestor, Haldir, and... you."

You pointed to yourself. "M...Me? The queen specifically requested me to go with you?" You narrowed your eyes suspiciously. "Whhhhhhyyyyyyy???"

Blue-Eyes glared at you as he stroked Starlight's muzzle. "It is nothing out of the ordinary. You wish to prove yourself to my father, do you not? I would like for you to stay in the Mirkwood as well, Sairen, so do not disappoint me."

"Well," You looked up at Starlight's face. "No pressure, right?"

Legolas smiled cheekily. "Not at all." He patted your back. "We begin at dawn tomorrow. Meet me by Starlight once you've woken, and we shall begin." He walked away, but half-turned to call out, "Do not be late!"

You nodded in exasperation, but as soon as he was gone, sighed and placed your face on Starlight's neck. "Mission," You hissed under your breath, just really wishing Lord Fabulous didn't have to be such a jackass. "Impossible."

Tag List:

@hauntedsiriel @tesserphantom @liviaolivia @dumbladores @littlefrenchfryesblog @hibernatingmadhatter @reclusive-chicken-nugget @naryamirie @legolasdeserveslove @escapingthoughtsandsecrets @sagabriar @brushwood-souls @taurlel

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Le leich= You’re sweet

#legolas x reader #legolas x you #au #LARP #LoTR #The Hobbit #legolas greenleaf #orlando bloom #mirkwood #elves #dwarves #horses #lots of horses in this chapter #eldar #chapter 5 #the art of being an eldar #fanfiction #fluff #romance #angst #gender-nuetral #wild #misfit #reader-insert #forest #middle-earth #lots of angst #ronanstolkienfam

[theemightypen]

50. Arranged Marriage, eomer x lothiriel

So because I have -1000000 self control, y’all get a sneak peak of the arranged marriage AU I have planned for sometime in the next 8 years, where Eomer and Lothiriel end up having a political marriage pre-War

Anyways, here ya go, nonny!

–

“My lady! My lady, come quickly!”

Lothiriel blinks in surprise as Layfled all but yanks her towards the doors. It is not like the girl to be so improper, nor hasty, and alarm begins to set in.

“Layfled, what is so urgent?”

“Grima is needling Lord Eomer again! I fear he will not keep his temper this time.”

That is cause for fear, for there is no one in Edoras that Wormtongue dislikes so thoroughly as Eomer. Whether it is because of his renown as a warrior, his position as heir-presumptive to the throne, or the fact that there is no one in Middle Earth that Eomer dislikes so much as Wormtongue, Lothiriel cannot say, but he should no better than to tangle with the King’s slippery advisor. Grima has been amassing more and more power in recent months and there’s no telling what he plans to do with it, besides ill.

So Lothiriel hurries, heart in her throat, towards the main hall of Meduseld.

The sight that greets her is a terrifying one: her husband, with his arm at Wormtongue’s throat, hissing something so angry and so cruel that she nearly flinches, even though there is no denying that the sentiment was likely justly earned.

“Too long have you watched my sister,” she hears him hiss, “too long have you haunted her steps.” 

“Eomer–” She starts to say, so afraid for him that she can barely speak, but it is too late. Some of Grima’s men are already gripping his shoulders, pulling him off the slighter man.

“You see much, Eomer, son of Eomund,” the snake is saying, his tone filled with a hateful sort of glee. “Too much.”

Lothiriel gasps as one of the men punches Eomer in the stomach. “Stop! Stop this at once!”

They all turn to her, even Grima, and she forces herself not to flinch under his beady stare.

“Lothiriel,” Eomer starts, “go, do not concern yourself–”

“Do not–! You are my husband and my utmost concern,” she interrupts.

“Touching,” Grima drawls. “And good timing, my lady, for you will not have to hear of your husband’s punishment from any false source.” 

“Punishment? For what?”

“For warmongering, to start. For failing to serve his King in the way he requires–”

Eomer snarls. “It is not I who is failing him, wyrm–”

“No one can question his loyalty! He is Rohan’s greatest protector–”

“You are young,” Grima interrupts, “and biased, I’m afraid. Too long has your husband been given a pass on his more…questionable activities due to his cousin’s influence. But now, with Prince Theodred gone, our King’s eyes have been opened to what he truly is.”

Lothiriel’s hands tremble with the effort of not slapping him. “You dare. This is overreaching, Grima, even for one such as you.”

“Oh, I have only begun. I am glad you are here, my lady. It will spare me the trouble of having to inform you of your husband’s banishment at a later time.”

The air is all but forced from her lungs. Banishment!

“You have no authority here!” Eomer cries, struggling against the men who hold him. “Your orders mean nothing!”

“Oh, but this order does not come from me,” says Grima. He pulls out a roll of vellum and unrolls it with a gleeful flourish. “It comes from the King. He signed it this morning.”

“Theoden King would never,” Lothiriel says hotly, but the signature is there, stark against the paper, and she feels sick.

The men begin to drag Eomer away, looking far too happy to be doing so, and she darts forward. 

“No! This is not right! How can you justify this?”

“My lady,” Gamling is there, gently gripping her arm, “you cannot question the King’s will.”

“You call this Theoden’s will? Banishing his sister-son, his heir, his greatest captain? It is Grima’s will, not his!”

“My lady,” says Grima, smiling in that horrible way of his, “I assure you I am more than happy to send you with your husband, if that is what you desire.”

“No!” Eomer cries, still struggling against his captors and she shakes Gamling off long enough that she can reach for his hand. The men glare at her but her presence–her closeness–is enough to stop Eomer’s angry fighting. She reaches for him but he is dragged out of her reach, just for spite.

“Give us a moment, for pity’s sake!” She cries. “Have you no hearts?”

“Traitors deserve neither moments nor pity,” intones Grima. “Surely you, as a daughter of princes, should understand that.”

“Lothiriel, stay,” Eomer says, agony clear in his voice, “you must stay where you are safe, I could not bear it otherwise–”

How can I feel safe knowing you are not, she thinks, but that will not help now.

“I will stay,” she says, “and Eowyn will be with me–we will help each other, I swear–”

“You presume too much of your sister-in-law, my lady. Eowyn has responsibilities to her lord king, not to the foreign wife of a traitor–”

Eomer hisses again, something fierce and low in Rohirric and earns another swift punch to the stomach for his efforts. Lothiriel cannot help the whimper that tears itself from her throat. She steps up, unheading of Gamling’s murmur for caution behind her–how can she focus on anything else other than her husband, her mighty, brave, strong, good, husband, being so unjustly treated?

She takes Eomer’s face between her hands, ignoring the guards that keep her from embracing him the way she wants to. 

“Stay safe,” Lothiriel says, “you must promise me that you will be safe. That you will come back to me–”

“Lothiriel,” he starts, his dark eyes bright with what must be tears, something she never could have fathomed before now. But she never thought Theoden could have been persuaded to think so poorly of him, never thought that Theodred would truly fall, never thought that Eowyn would turn so brittle–

“I love you,” she manages to choke out, because if she does not say it now, she may never get the chance. “I love you, Eomer, be safe, please–”

She only gets one glimpse of his shocked expression before the guards haul him off in truth. Gamling is at her side faster than she can blink, standing steadfast between her and Grima’s malevolent stare. 

“Come away, my lady,” he says, putting his arm around her shoulders in a way that makes her miss her father so suddenly she nearly weeps, “come away, you should not have to see this–”

“Oh, but she should,” Grima murmurs. “Lest she forget that she is a guest of the House of Eorl. And must act accordingly.”

Lothiriel has thought Grima vile the entirety of the time she’s known him, but the hate that sears in her stomach now is like nothing else she’s ever felt. She will not let him see her hurt, her fear. Not now. Not ever. For Eomer, for Eowyn, she must do that much. She must stand tall and strong against this poisonous creature. 

“I am a member of the House of Eorl, Grima, son of Galmod. And a daughter of the House of Dol Amroth. I may not have the foresight that my cousin possesses but I say this now, without a doubt, that all the evil and pain you inflict on others will be brought back to you ten-fold.” At this, she smiles, in that razorsharp way Ivriniel has always tried to teach her and has remained out of her grasp–until now. Perhaps it can only be brought on by one so loathsome. “And I very much look forward to that day, my lord.” 

Grima still looks too smug and satisfied, but she can see that she’s shaken him, just a little. 

So she turns on her heel, head held high, in search of Eowyn. 

#i know i know 'where's the next chapter of Too Wise Laura!!' #alas this is what my brain wanted to write so: here?? #eomer x lothiriel #eothiriel #prompt response #my writing

[sosoukoku]

Lord of The Rings?

Thank you lovely!❤️ Favorite Male: Sam
❤ Favorite Female: Eowyn
❤ Favorite Pairing: Sam x Frodo
❤ Least Favorite Character: Grima Wormtongue 
❤ who’s most like me: I want to be an Eowyn but I'm probs like Pippin, I'm just out here doing my best and probably fuckin up
❤ most attractive: I mean one of my first crushes was Legolas, I had a poster of him when I was like 6...
❤ three more characters that I like: Arwen, Gimli, Frodo

send me a series!!

[paintedimagining]

Thank you to the sweetheart that is @iamacolor for tagging me! 

Rules: Choose any three fandoms (in random order) and answer the questions. Then tag some friends.  Tagging : @hacash @neon-green-bra @mototwinkclub @silvertyger @i-own-loki @cowboyaddie @aloy-of-the-nora 

I choose:    The Musketeers Outlander Lotr

The first character you loved: d'Artagnan Jamie Fraser Frodo Baggins

The character you never expected to love so much: King Louis Colum Mackenzie Gollum/Smeagol

The character you relate to the most: Constance Bonacieux- just trying to make it in a man’s world Claire Beachamp Randall Fraser Faramir- I too have similar family issues like his, being made to know and feel how I am the hated one and the disappointment and will never be a good as my siblings and generally how little of crap they give about me, so reading his struggles with himself and is father as a kid was something that struck my heart

The character you’d slap: Aramis- Don’t get me wrong I love him to pieces.  But a lot of unnecessary drama and heartbreak might have been saved if he’d kept it in his breeches just once Laoghaire MacKenzie- she’s just a scheming, manipulative bitch  Grima Wormtongue- need I say more? There is no redeeming features…expcept maybe stabbing Saruman, and he’s a creepy pervert.

Three favourite characters (in no specific order ):  d'Artagnan, Constance Bonacieux, Captain (Dad) Treville Jamie Fraser, Claire B.R. Fraser, Murtagh Fraser Eowyn, Faramir, Galadriel

A character you liked at first but not so much anymore:  Aramis- But only for season 2. I fell back in love with him for S3 when he was being less of a gigantic, selfish, manipulative prick and was more of his charming old self  Frank Randall- I never disliked Frank just because he wasn’t Jamie like the rest of the bat-shit crazy fandom seem to. But when Claire returned, he was a bit of an arse towards her. I mean you can understand in some degree, and he is a good guy and put up with ALOT, but the way he treated Claire in those early days after she came back through the stones… Treebeard- I think the movies just kind ruined him for me. I did love him in the books, but any part of movies when it cut to him and the Ents was just so damn boring lol except the storming of Isengard that was freakin’ awesome A character you did not like at first, but they’ve grown on you: Milady de Winter Geillis Duncan Fredegar “Fatty" Bolger 

3 OTPs: d'Artagnan x Constance Jamie x Claire Fraser Are you seriously asking me to pick ONE from LOTR? Are you mad?

#thank you #this was fun