#hobbits bearing gifts

[sindar-princeling]

I truly and deeply love Eowyn because she's angry, bitter and can be genuinely cold when we meet her - and she's only 24! already she's changed by this war, by the loss of her parents, by the long period of her life where she had no parental figure because Theoden was battling his own depression, and by Grima being a creep. Tolkien's young characters go to war and are changed by it, like Pippin, like Sam, who is still quite a young hobbit (he's 39, and they come of age at 33), but not her - she is already deep in grim thoughts about dying for honour, cheerless, cold.

I don't like comparing all Tolkien women to one another because they are quite different from each other and comparing them just because they're women often feels reductive because they serve vastly different roles in the story, but when you're considering how he presents femininity, it's necessary to do so. so far we've met Lobelia, Mrs. Maggot, Goldberry, Arwen, Galadriel and Eowyn (Rosie was only mentioned as far as i remember?). hobbit women we meet while we are still at home, and they fit right into the homey atmosphere of the shire, in which characters are often presented playfully, or have one defining trait (think about the characters we only know from notes attached to bilbo's "gifts"). further from home, we meet goldberry, arwen and galadriel, who are old, fair, good, beautiful. each of them is different (and galadriel especially has a dark, flawed part of her we can see), but with the women meet on the journey, further from home, a pattern starts to emerge - they come from a different time, from a different world, and even with all their fairness and kindness they can at times feel distant, out of reach.

and then!! eowyn comes into the picture, and- she could be you. she could be me. she's not only complex, but also within reach. she's not a gentle or joyful presence, she's not a powerful ancient force, she doesn't come bearing gifts for everyone - she's so full of negative emotions and pain which she needs to heal from, she's so young and already feels like an old, weary soul.

and it's not to say one kind of character is better than the other, or more complex or anything, because that's exactly the reductive way of looking at those women that I don't like seeing in discussions. ultimately, they are all just different people. but the introduction of eowyn broadens the spectrum of femininity shown in LOTR, and while it's still not exactly wide, it's a bit wider than it was before.

#then of course we meet ioreth who is again different but that happens later and i wanted to cover the progression so far #lotr newsletter #it's honestly accidental that this post came to my mind on women's day of all days askjhkdhdkj #anyways happy women's day! trans women are women #it's mine my own my precious #eowyn #arwen #galadriel #lobelia #rosie #goldberry #mrs. maggot #lotr #the lord of the rings

[rainylana]

Wayne and Eddie headcanons

warnings: mentions of puberty and masturbation.

a/n: i’m obsessed with these!

• as a kid, eddie used to play endless pranks on wayne almost everyday. it got to a point where he was walking on eggshells in his own home, afraid of getting himself into another trap of eddie’s. saran wrap on the toilet seat, salt in the sugar jar, tacks in the driver’s seat.

• when he was between the age eight and nine, he wanted to grow up and be an adult like wayne, so he’d want to wake up early in the mornings to have coffee with him and read the newspaper. he usually always fell asleep, being carried back to bed by his uncle.

• eddie calls wayne’s music his old man music.

• they watch wheel of fortune together everytime it’s on.

• wayne makes him pick up sticks in the yard when he gets too hyper. kid definitely has adhd.

• wayne is amazed with how heavy his nephew can sleep. he’s tried being noisy to wake him up but he will not budge. he also sleeps in super later. wayne once got home from work and he was STILL asleep.

• wayne taught him how to shave when he was 15. it ended in a bunch of cheap bandaids and a plastic razor.

• okay but puberty was rough lmao. i can just imagine eddie asking poor wayne what it meant when his dick got hard LMAO. gave that old man grey hair.

• i’m sure wayne was PETRIFIED of him getting some girl knocked up, so he bought him his first box of condoms.

• eddie brings home a lot of girls, so wayne has earplugs he wears while he sleeps.

• wayne definitely accidentally walked in on him jerking off at least once.

• wayne knows all of his anxious habits and knows when he’s having a bad day. he helps him through his panic attacks in the middle of the night when he can’t sleep, pacing about the trailer kitchen.

• wayne would read the hobbit to him as a boy when he couldn’t sleep. the book had been a gift from his mom before she left.

• wayne had to help get gum out of eddie’s hair when the bullies at school got bad.

• i think wayne would be momma bear mode when his nephew would come home as a young boy, eyes teary eyed and nose snotty. he’d call the principal and threaten him, heated and hurt that someone would hurt his boy. as eddie got older, he didn’t want wayne involved in it anymore and made him promise he wouldn’t interfere.

• eddie doesn’t ever throw away his trash in his room so once a week wayne goes in their with a trash bag and cleans. it’s filled with dr pepper and beer cans, little debbie wrappers and chip bags.

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #stranger things #stranger things season four #joseph quinn #eddie munson imagines #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson one shot #eddie munson headcanons #eddie munson x female reader smut #wayne munson #eddie and wayne munson #headcanon #stranger things headcanons

[lemonsprite]

𝐘𝐮𝐥𝐞𝐭𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐬 || 𝐁𝐢𝐥𝐛𝐨 𝐁𝐚𝐠𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐬 𝐱 𝐓𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐧 𝐎𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐧𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐞𝐥𝐝

Summary: idk Yule something something something bro I don't know what to write it's just a bunch of fluff and tiny Frodo content

Word count: 2K

A/N: This was cross-posted on my ao3!

Dearest Thorin, 

I regret to inform you I won’t be able to spend the winter months with you this year as much as I’d like to. Unfortunately, my dear cousins the Brandybuck-bagginses have passed in a terrible boating accident and as much as this time hurts for my family, they have asked that I may take in my cousin's only son, Frodo. Of course, I have agreed as is right to do. Poor lad lost both his parents in one day, I can only imagine what he’s going through right now. 

Yavannah knows this is the last thing I’d ever want but I must take care of the boy for now. I hope you can understand. Perhaps I can visit in the summertime, I’m sure Frodo would love to see Erebor someday. 

Your burglar, 

Bilbo Baggins

Bilbo looked down sadly at the sealed envelope in his hands. He’d been looking extremely forward to spending Yule with Thorin. Yet that was all a distant thought now, He has a boy to look after. Frodo sat next to him, only nine years old and inexplicably quiet. Bilbo had given him one of his books he’d picked up on his journey to the lonely mountain. Some sort of elvish novel filled with fantastical fairy tales and stories of yore. 

When Frodo had been younger he’d used to jump for joy when Uncle Bilbo came bearing gifts of books to family gatherings, now he sat staring at the same page for the past fifteen minutes his face emotionless and his eyes distant. 

Bilbo sighed and ran a hand through his curly hair, turning his attention back to the letter in his hand. 

“I’ll be right back, Frodo.” He said, giving the boy the biggest smile he could muster at the moment.

Frodo blinked in response, not even turning to look Bilbo in the eye. 

The hobbit pursed his lips and tucked the envelope into his waistcoat pocket. 

It was snowing hard outside and the windows of Bag-end rattled with the force of the wind. It was a true blizzard in the making. Hopefully, the bird would be able to make it to Thorin. 

Barely half a month had passed since Bilbo sent his letter. Frodo seemed to return slightly to his younger self. He’d begun asking Bilbo questions about his journeys once more, the young hobbit would stop in the hallways of Bag-end and pester Bilbo until he told him the story behind the map hanging on the wall or the set or dwarven battle armor sitting in the corner, long forgotten. 

They sat together at the dinner table two bowls of beef stew lay untouched before them, it was getting late. 

“Don’t you want your soup Frodo?�� Asked Bilbo. “It’s one of your favorites.” He encouraged, attempting to get his picky-eater of a nephew to eat. 

Frodo scowled, poking at the meat in his stew with his fork. 

Their silence was broken by the loud noise of Bilbo’s bell signaling there was someone at the door. Bilbo cleared his throat and sat up from his seat. 

The elder hobbit walked gingerly to the front of Bag-end, wondering who in their right mind would be pestering a hobbit this late during supper of all times. 

Decades ago the last time his bell had rung at this hour he’d become an unwilling party member on a long and quite bothersome adventure. 

Bilbo threw open the door to reveal a quite serious-looking dwarf. Yet that was not the source of his surprise (He quite expected this to happen if Bilbo was being truthful, he had a tendency to attract unwanted visitors) What really shocked the hobbit was that the dwarf was none other than Thorin Oakenshield himself. 

“Thorin?” He gaped, staring wide-eyed at the dwarrow in front of him. “Wha? Huh?” 

“Where’s the little pebble, hm?” Asked Thorin a serious glint in his eye, trying to peer past Bilbo’s shoulder into the den. 

“pebble?” Asked Bilbo still trying to work out why Thorin was here in the first place. He raised his hands to back peddle their conversation. “Hold on- aren’t you supposed to be at Erebor?” 

Thorin waved his hand dismissively. “Fili’s got it under control, it’ll be a good experience for him.”

“Good experience? Thorin, that's an entire kingdom to run by himself!” Exclaimed Bilbo, flabbergasted at the dwarf’s carelessness. 

“And he has Balin to take care of him, he’ll be fine,” explained Thorin, putting a hand on Bilbo’s shoulder. “Besides, you need more help than him right now.” 

“I don’t think that's a very even comparison.” Laughed Bilbo, looking at Thorin as if he’d just magically turned into a monkey. “Look, come inside, I don’t want you catching a cold out in the snow.” The hobbit sighed, opening the door further for the dwarven king to enter. 

Thorin shook the snow off his thick fur coat and turned to Bilbo, giving the other a stern look. 

“It may not seem like that hard of an ordeal Bilbo but raising a child is no laughing matter.” He tsked. “When my brother-in-law died I helped Dis out with the boys every day, I essentially became like their father. I know what child-rearing is like.” 

“So you’ve come all this way to help me?” Asked Bilbo, looking Thorin up and down curiously. “Not to mention how fast you got here, I didn’t even know it was possible to travel from Erebor to the Shire in less than a month.” 

Thorin's face turned red, he looked everywhere but Bilbo’s eyes, muttering something unintelligible. 

“What was that?” Asked Bilbo, a smile pulling at his lips. 

“I also may have wanted to spend Yule with you,” Thorin grumbled, his voice deep and gravely, like a bear. 

Bilbo grinned at Thorin, the tips of his pointed ears turning red. 

“Uncle Bilbo, why is there a dwarf in our parlor?” Came Frodo's voice from the doorway, his curly head peeking out from the corner. 

Bilbo opened his mouth to speak but Thorin beat him to the chase.

“You must be Frodo.” He smiled, wrapping his arm around Bilbo’s shoulder and pulling him close to the dwarf’s side. 

Bilbo coughed, clearing his throat, denying the feeling of warmth that spread throughout his body at Thorin's touch. 

“Frodo, you recall Thorin from my adventures, hm?” He asked, waving a careless hand in the general direction of the dwarf. 

The younger hobbit's pointed ears perked up and he stared up at Thorin in awe. “The king under the mountain?” Frodo exclaimed in astonishment. 

“At your service,” Thorin replied, a soft smile spreading across his face. 

Frodo’s excitement was basically tangible, he was practically bouncing off the walls as he ran up to Thorin, the young hobbit twiddling his fingers in nervousness. 

“Did you really fight a dragon?” He asked in amazement, looking up at Thorin as if he’d saved his life instead of Bilbo’s. 

Thorin was about to answer when Bilbo cut him off. 

“Good little hobbits finish their dinner first, you can bombard him with all your questions after you finish your stew.” 

Frodo grumbled, frowning hard as he glanced back at Thorin. 

“You know…” Said Thorin looking around the room as if he was afraid someone would overhear him. “I brought all these toys from Erebor… But I was strictly told by my advisors to only give them to shirelings who finish their suppers.” He glanced at Bilbo, shooting him a small smile. 

Bilbo rolled his eyes in obvious annoyance, yet his smile told another story. 

Frodo gasped, looking back and forth between Bilbo and Thorin before making a mad dash for the dining room, determined to eat all his soup. 

“How about I show you around a bit? Before the little devil inhales his stew I mean…” Added Bilbo, his eyes still on the doorway Frodo had just sped through. “It's been quite a while since you last visited… Four years if I remember correctly.” 

“Four years far too long.” Sighed Thorin, pulling Bilbo even closer to his side. “If I had my way I’d visit you every year.” 

“You have a kingdom to run.” Rationalized Bilbo. “Besides, it takes three months to travel from Erebor to the Shire… Usually.” He continued glancing up at Thorin. 

The dwarf met him with an exasperated shrug. 

“I would like that tour, however,” Thorin added as an afterthought, looping his and Bilbo’s arms together. “Show me where I’ll be sleeping, hm?” 

“I see you’ve gotten a lot more books in your study since I last visited.” Observed Thorin as Bilbo led him into his office. 

“Elrond half-elven gave me them as gifts since I’ve learned to speak Sindarin and Quenya. told me they’d help expand my knowledge.” Bilbo smiled, patting Thorin’s arm which was still entangled in his. 

Thorin scoffed, rolling his eyes. “Damn elves, next thing you know they’ll be coming to Bag-end to join us for Yule.” 

“They might as well.” Added Bilbo smugly. “I’m told we bagginses are quite good at making foreign friends.” 

Thorin rolled his eyes playfully at the hobbit's remark as Bilbo continued. The hobbit led Thorin through a circular door into his bed chambers. 

Bilbo’s room hadn’t changed much since the four years of Thorin’s absence. A new quilt sat neatly on top of his bed, illustrating the shire and its surplus gardens. On the hobbit's nightstand was an assortment of parenting books stacked to reach a combined height of an average elf. One of Bilbo’s coats (An extremely well-made dwarven garment) sat draped over a cushioned armchair that hadn’t been there previously. Thorin had given the coat to Bilbo as a Yule present eight years ago, part of him melted seeing it displayed. 

“I assume you’ll be staying here with me…” Bilbo dawdled on, looking anywhere but Thorin, the tips of his ears turning red. “That is- if you want to.” He added hurriedly.

Thorin nodded his head furiously. 

“I want to.” 

Bilbo smiled sheepishly, tugging nervously at his copper curls. 

 A silence fell between them and Thorin faltered, grabbing Bilbo’s hand. 

“We need to talk, my burglar.” 

Bilbo stared back at the dwarven king, his smile hesitating. 

“I agree.” 

Bilbo busied himself by straightening invisible wrinkles on his bed sheets and sat down with Thorin next to him. The hobbit sighed, he’d had a feeling they’d be having this discussion one way or another. 

An uncomfortable silence filled the air with thick tension. Thorin was the first to speak. 

“Our original plan isn’t going to work now, isn’t it?” He asked, rubbing his thumb over Bilbo’s knuckles, making the hobbit's face flush and his ears ring. 

“I suppose Frodo does change some things…” Replied Bilbo, his gaze finding the ground much more interesting than Thorin at the moment. 

“Do…” Thorin faltered. “Do you wish to end our courtship?” 

Bilbo didn't waste a second to respond, his eyes darting up to Thorins within milliseconds. 

“No! Not at all! I still want to marry you, Thorin!” He exclaimed, anxiety filling his stomach. “It’s just, a lot changed with the addition of Frodo…” Bilbo pursed his lips. 

“We… Just need time to figure it out.” He sighed, turning to smile slightly at Thorin. “I swear I’ll never leave you. No matter what.” 

“I as well my burglar.” Thorin sighed contentedly, happy with the conclusion of their discussion as he cupped Bilbo’s face with his rough hand. “Aulë I love you.” 

They sat there for what felt like eons to both of them but was most likely a matter of a few fleeting moments. Both content to be held in each other's arms.

“Did you actually bring dwarvish toys?” Whispered Bilbo, almost unbelieving. He shifted in the dwarf’s arms, breaking the dramatic tension that had filled the air almost suffocatingly with their discussion. 

Thorin pulled away from their embrace and opened the pockets of his big coat, revealing a plethora of small (most likely enchanted) children’s toys, ranging from tops to stuffed animals, and dominos. 

“Don’t worry.” He smirked. “I’m planning to make his Yule present myself.”

Bilbo knew Thorin and Bilbo knew the dwarf was most likely to make something that would get Frodo in lots of trouble with their ever-nosy neighbors. 

“It better not be any hopefully safe and small Dwarven battle gear.” He scolded, looking the dwarf king in the eye. 

“How did you guess?” Asked Thorin with a devious smirk. 

“I had my suspicions.” Bilbo’s annoyance did not last as he laughed shortly, rolling his eyes and returning to Thorin's arms. 

The dwarven king brought his attention to the small trinkets in his pocket. “They were my nephews' favorite nick-nacks growing up. Now that they don’t need them I thought they could be put to good use again.” He explained shyly. 

“That’s an excellent idea Thorin.” Sighed Bilbo contentedly, restraining himself from burrowing deeper into the dwarf’s warm chest. It’d been what felt like decades since he was last able to embrace Thorin like he was currently. 

A harsh knock came from the door to Bilbo’s bedroom, interrupting their moment. 

“Uncle Bilbo, I've finished my soup!” Rang Frodo’s voice from behind the door. “Is Mr. Thorin in there?” 

Bilbo gave Thorin a knowing look as he got up from his arms to answer the door, readjusting his wrinkled clothing as he did so. 

“All of it?” He asked the little hobbit, raising a suspicious eyebrow. 

Frodo nodded violently, his eyes looking expectantly behind him to the dwarf still sitting on Bilbo’s bed. 

“Alright- But if you’re lying so help me Yavannah…” The hobbit sighed, opening the door further for Frodo to dash in, running straight to Thorin. 

Bilbo had a feeling this was going to be the best Yule yet.

I love them (༎ຶ⌑༎ຶ)

#the hobbit thorin #the hobbit bilbo #the hobbit #thorin x bilbo #bilbo baggins #bilbo and frodo #frodo baggins #thorin oakenshield x bilbo baggins #thorin oakenshield #king thorin #lord of the rings #bagginsheild #bagginshield

[loverdude]

I'm finishing this a lil late but my boyfriend and I's one year anniversary was on Thursday 2/22 and I made this gif as a gift for him :3 I'd seen the idea somewhere else (however I forget where! >_<) but it's a drawing of us that I made a bunch of versions of based on the pairings and ships and etc that I associate us with!!!!!!

Don't repost/use 4 anything 💕 COMMISSION INFO

The pairings in order are: me and him, Twilight Sparkle and Rarity from MLP:FIM, blueberries and strawberries, Thorin Oakenshield and Bilbo Baggins from The Hobbit, plums and peaches, Bakugou Katsuki and Kirishima Eijirou from BNHA, jelly and peanut butter, Eeyore and Winnie the Pooh from Winnie the Pooh, Blue and Magenta from Blues Clues, mayo and ketchup, Twilight Sparkle and Pinkie Pie from MLP:FIM, sun and moon, clover and crimson based on the song Crimson and Clover by Joan Jett and the Blackhearts, Grumpy Bear and Bedtime Bear from Care Bears, Branch and Poppy from Trolls, (blueberry) waffles and pancakes, King Bowser and Princess Peach from Super Mario Bros, Tac Nayn and Nyan Cat from Nyan Cat, and Draculaura* and Lagoona Blue from Monster High!

*he doesn't kin her like the other characters but she is his favorite and Lagoona is my fav and I do kin her lol so I still associate them!

Here's the frames for those curious???

My favs I think are the one of just me and him, Twilight and Rarity, blueberry and strawberry, peach and plum, jelly and peanut butter, Blue and Magenta, and crimson and clover :3 I like them all tho!!!

#eddysart #my art #my digital art #me #edward #dami #gif #flashing #um #i'm not tagging all that shit lol #happy anniversary again damiiii #love you s'muchies

[an-eldritch-peredhel]

Ethics of Creating/Adopting/Influencing Sentient Life, as Ignored by the Valar

It's been a steady headcanon of mine that most Valar have their own form of sentient life that they had a metaphysical hand in shaping. Is this because I feel like everyone gets jilted bc of the big three? Yes. Is this how I explain all of the weird one-off things in the Hobbit? Also yes. No particular order here, just vibes.

Manwe: Giant Eagles, obvious, he asked his Parent's permission first.

Aule: Dwarves, also obvious, did not ask permission from his Parent but they ended up splitting custody so a pretty good deal all around. (Also maybe made sure that the possibility for AI was in the Song. Is very excitedly awaiting his robot children.)

Yavanna: Ents, again obvious, asked her Parent's permission, got it, dunked on her husband. Ents are strange because they aren't so much plant-like sentients as decidedly sentient plants. Most everyone but her (and Vana) are kinda weirded out by this.

Vana: Hobbits. With some input from Yavanna and Nessa. I know the prevailing hc in the Hobbit fandom is that it was Yavanna for those sweet Aule/Yavanna Dwarves/Hobbits parallels, but I feel like Vana's Domains fit them better. She didn't (technically) Create them, she was just wanting to make her own People without getting in trouble, and Yavanna offered sisterly advice in the form of "Evolution was already Sung, so if you just guide that evolution a little and happen to get a new People out of it... well, whoopsies, who'd've guessed ;)". Nessa, of course, heard about this and insisted on helping her girlfriend out. No one knows how Hobbits came from Humans, because it makes very little logical sense. This is why. Also she coopted mushrooms from Melkor and those things are if not sentient at least getting there.

Orome: The Beornings. Vana was like "LOOK WHAT I'M DOING :D!" re. evolution (and Magic/Song shhhh) and Orome went "SICK! I WANNA DO THAT!!" but didn't want to put quite as much effort in (he's busy) so he took a group of humans and was like "Ok you can have awesome disney princess bear powers for the low low cost of not technically being human anymore" and they all went "well, best not to reject gifts from gods, also that sounds cool, so sure I guess?" Some adaption/evolution was also involved, which Nessa helped with.

Nessa: See Vana & Orome above. She's the reason Hobbits have the crazy high stealth bonus, and the reason for the whole bear-dancing thing the Beornings do. Also I'm pretty sure she came up with an idea for talking animals really early on, carefully and subtly implemented by her, Orome, and Yavanna.

Tulkas: Giants. Orome and Vana and Nessa were all like "DUDE LOOK WHAT WE'RE DOING ISN'T IT COOL!" and Tulkas was like "YEAH THAT'S SICK BABES! GREAT JOB!" and they were like "don't you want to try? OwO? give us more niblings to dote on?" and he figured "hey, might as well, that sounds dope". He got Aule's help (bc experience w/ sentientifying rocks) and managed to accidentally find a bunch of new loop holes in the "Thou Shalt Not Casually Create Sentience What Are You Guys Frankenstein Or Something" doctrine. Manwe was like "...why" and Tulkas was like "Look, there's not even triple digits of them, their sentience is debatable at best, and it makes Arda cooler. Surely you want Arda to be cool? Also they throw rocks around!" And Manwe had bigger problems to deal with at this point and gave up. This is why giants are fighty.

Namo: Did NOT create sentience are you kidding? It's bad enough that SOME moron Sung the possibility for Necromancy into Arda (interesting as it is he desperately wants to slap the Maia who came up with that idea. it's So Much Work, and ever since Humans first woke up he has been So Busy. this is what he gets for wanting to micromanage the Death system), he's not creating MORE work for himself. He has technically adopted sentient life in the form of Spirits. He staunchly ignores anyone who tries to point this out.

Nienna: Did not create sentience but has adopted the Orcs. The ones that were corrupted elves can heal with a lot (a LOT) of time and therapy in Mandos, but orcs do end up as a separate People. A People who is Nienna's now. They're her babies. (Yes, this is a Threat.)

Irmo: As creator of dreams he occupies a very weird place re. creating sentience, since he's technically actively influencing it at all times regardless. Has not made a People but did very quietly figure out how to make not-quite-Maiar. He didn't make many, but there are a few Wishing Spirits in unexpected places.

Vaire: Similar to her husband, she's too busy to create sentience, and doesn't want that responsibility anyway. Perfectly content with being a mentor-friend to her Weavers, no desire to be a mom.

Este: Has not created sentience but did help Aule work on robot bodies once she learned about his little project. Is not a mechanical engineer, but can pass pretty well as a bio-engineer. Plus she needs to learn how to heal all the Peoples, not just organic ones. (They keep the project quiet.)

Ulmo: He was to busy trying to help the Original And Intended Children to make anything of his own. Did several of his Maiar figure out Fully Incarnate Bodies? Yes. Did they also figure out how to have kids? SOMEHOW, yes. Did these kids become their own People? Yes. Is this Ulmo's problem now? Yes. Anyway that's how mermaids happened.

Varda: She is competent and respectable. Are her constellations sentient? That's between them, her, and her Maiar. She's worked out the logistics on her own, thank you very much. No need for worrying about afterlives or whatnots, she's got it covered. (She just wanted some kids, ok? And it's so much easier if she isn't the only one watching over the skies of Arda.)

#headcanon #my headcanons #valar #manwe #aule #yavanna #vana #orome #nessa #tulkas #namo mandos #nienna #irmo lorien #vaire #este #ulmo #varda #hobbits #orcs #ah i love dubiously ethical valar #they're all trying their bests but they just Do Not Understand the Children

[a-strange-inkling]

Day 7: Exchanging Gifts

Chicago, Illinois 1986

He wakes to sweet, featherlight kisses being pressed to his parted lips, making him gently stir, thick, heavy lashes fluttering open.

“Good morning,” she whispers when he just makes her out in the dark kaleidoscope haze.

“Mmm…” he moans softly, blinking to clear his vision, managing to capture her bottom lip between his teeth from muscle memory, tugging her back when she starts to pull away.

She laughs, giving him a proper kiss.

“Is it even morning yet?” he croaks as he stretches, back popping, careful not to knock any blankets down. The heat in the building has been out for the last two nights and they’ve survived by double layers, flannel sheets, shared body heat, and May’s old quilts (yeah, alright, as usual Wayne was right).

He gets his bearings, tucking closer to her for more warmth and to avoid falling off the edge behind them. They must have fallen asleep on the couch admiring their Christmas tree lights. He cranes his neck ever so slightly over his shoulder and spies the red numbers flashing above the television through one half opened eye.

12:02

“God, sweetheart, we’re starting a little early, aren’t we?” he yawns loudly, snuggling his head back down against the throw pillow before feeling something solid and rectangular sliding up his chest, coming to rest just under his nose.

He squints down with somewhat crossed eyes to see a small package wrapped neatly in brown paper and tied off with a dainty little string. His brows furrow.

“Merry Christmas!” she whisper-squeals.

Tired as he is, he can’t help but smile as he rubs the sleep out of his eyes. “Can’t this wait for daylight?” he breathes a raspy chuckle, but still he shifts upward to prop his shoulders against the armrest. Shit, it’s cold. Any untouched surface feels like ice.

“I can’t wait anymore,” she tells him, resting her head against his collarbone, a whole galaxy of stars dancing in her eyes. “Your birthday already passed when we were in the hospital, so I’ve had to wait months to give this to you.”

“You’ve held off giving this to me for months?” he asks, significantly more awake now as he spins the gift around in his hands, giving it a shake.

“Yes, and I’ve had to keep it hidden too!” she adds.

He wonders how she’s managed that with them living on top of one another for the better part of a year, sharing his room in the trailer and now their tiny apartment. “Damn, what is it?”

She just wiggles against him, giving him a wide toothy smile. She’s so fucking excited, it’s adorable.

“Hmm… not even a hint?” he gives it a knock. Wooden? Hollow?

“Nope!” she says. “You’ll just have to open it to see!”

“It’s… way smaller than what I got you by the way.” he points out teasingly as he tugs the string loose, thinking of the acoustic guitar he had custom made for her that’s still hidden in the back of the van. “But, you know, that’s okay. I won’t hold it against you.”

“I have found that it is the small everyday deed of ordinary folks that keep the darkness at bay.” she recites with an adorable British accent.

“Baby, I’ve told you it’s dangerous to quote Tolkien to me while we’re in bed.” he snickers, tearing the bottom fold open to reach in and pull out a sage-green covered book. A familiar title stares back at him, written in dark letters.

“Thought it was an appropriate tie in.” she giggles.

He smiles brightly, turning it over. “Hey, hey, the Hobbit! Fucking A! What a cool copy too!”

…To go along with his other three. Yeah, it’s admittedly a little underwhelming, what with her waking him up at midnight and for her to be nearly shivering with anticipation, but it’s still really sweet.

It’s pretty sick too, with the dragon crawling along the bottom and the Misty Mountains bordering the top with the sun and the moon.

He leans over and pecks her lips. “Thank you, baby.”

“You’re welcome!” she chimes happily as he begins to page through it.

His smile falters after he turns over the front cover and then the map, squinting in confusion, just barely being able to make out the publication date.

“Wait…” he turns to switch on the lamp above them to see better, illuminating the small room in a muted orange glow.

1937

“Um, this…” he frowns down at her before he studies the publishing house information.

No way.

No fucking way.

“This is…” he nearly chokes. “Christina Elizabeth, do you realize that this is a fucking first edition!?” he exclaims at a concerningly high octave, hands beginning to shake.

She just nods slowly, beaming away.

“Where the hell did you…?” God, he might be having heart palpitations. “Honey, there’s only like fifteen hundred of these in existence!” he wheezes out, voice trembling.

He meets her gaze and her eyes are still twinkling far too knowingly for comfort. “Turn the page over.”

“…Why?” he whispers nervously, but doing as she says. “What’s on the other…”

His breathing hitches with a squeak, eyes bugging out of his head as he sees the inky, indented signature of a name that has gotten him through some of the darkest moments of his life.

May you always find joy in your journey, friend. - J.R.R. Tolkien

“That…” he squeaks, his voice rising from the pitch of a little girl’s to one he’s certain only dogs can hear. “That’s his handwriting, Chrissy, he touched this! That’s his signature! He held this in his hands!!”

“Do you like it?” she asks.

“Like it!?” he nearly shrieks. “Chrissy, this is like my bible! Where did you get this?”

“My grandad met him at Oxford while he was abroad and he signed it for him.” she explains wistfully. “He gave it to me for my thirteenth birthday, he wasn’t doing well then and wanted me to have it before he died… It was one of the things I was able to get out of my room before I left.”

“Chrissy, listen to me, you can’t… you can’t give this to me!” Eddie locks eyes with her, voice raspy and barely audible. “This… I mean Tolkien died in 1973, baby, do you have any idea what this is worth? And your granddad, I know how special he was to you, you can’t…”

“It’s mine,” she reminds him softly. “I can give it to whoever I want.”

His mouth parts wordlessly, eyes filling with unshed tears, not knowing what to do or say to that. She smiles again, leaning up to kiss his cheek before nuzzling back against him. “Besides, it’s not like it’s going very far away from me.”

After about five full minutes of staring into space, he finally settles back down as much as he can manage, body still somewhat convulsing as he starts to page through the familiar text.

“What do you think is still open right now? You fucking outdid me for life, I have to like… go and buy out Kohl’s to compensate for this.”

“I’d rather you just read it to me for a little while.” she yawns as she kisses his neck.

“I mean, I think I just had a small heart attack,” he replies with a shaky laugh, wrapping an arm around her and kissing the top of her head. “But, I’ll do my best.”

She hums happily, eyes slowly slipping shut.

“No one’s ever given me anything like this before.” he tells her, feeling a single tear run down his face. “I love you, Chrissy.”

“Merry Christmas, Eddie.”

“Merry Christmas, sweetheart.” he whispers, his heart so full that it aches.

He turns to the first chapter with great care, clearing his throat. “In a hole in the ground there lived a hobbit…”

@hellcheerxmas

#hellcheercountdown #hellcheer countdown #i’m caught up! #eddissy #munningham #eddie x chrissy #hellcheer #chrissy x eddie #hellcheer fanfiction #hellcheer fanfic #this one is my fave so far #my tolkien heart is doing backflips #old haunts #my fanfiction #my fic writing #hellcheer advant calendar #note the aragorn and arwen reference 😏

[tinytiger]

The Hobbit - A Kili X F!Reader Fanfic

Masterlist

But Daddy, I Love Him!

In the Woodland Palace, Y/n clashes with her father, Thranduil, over her arranged marriage and her love for Kili. Despite the tension, Y/n reconciles with the Company and strengthens her bond with Kili through shared moments and a gifted talisman, solidifying their connection amidst challenges.

Tw- familial conflict, arranged marriage

The Woodland Palace stood as a marvel of elven craftsmanship, a testament to the elegance and beauty of the woodland realm. Tall spires adorned with intricate carvings reached skyward, their graceful arcs reflecting the dappled sunlight that filtered through the canopy of ancient trees overhead. Elaborate bridges spanned sparkling streams, leading to arched doorways framed by living vines and blossoming flowers. The air was filled with the sweet scent of blooming flora, and the gentle murmur of waterfalls provided a soothing backdrop to the serene atmosphere.

Inside the palace, the grand hall was adorned with shimmering tapestries depicting scenes from elven lore, while delicate crystal chandeliers cast a soft glow over the polished marble floors. Elaborate mosaics adorned the walls, their intricate patterns capturing the ethereal beauty of the forest that surrounded them.

In this majestic setting, Y/n found herself in a heated argument with Thranduil, her father, as they stood before the imposing throne that overlooked the grand hall. His expression was stern, his eyes filled with a mixture of concern and determination as he addressed his daughter.

"Y/n, you will stay," Thranduil demanded, his voice cold and authoritative. "You will follow the plan your mother and I had for you. You will marry Erland and secure our lineage with children."

Y/n's eyes widened in disbelief, her heart pounding with defiance and desperation. "I won't do it, Father!" she exclaimed, her voice quivering with emotion. "I don't love Erland. He is a pompous arsehole and i dont love him i love-” She looked behind her to were the path that the dwarves had followed led, 

“Kili.” She declared looking up at Thorin.

Thranduil's expression darkened, his disgust evident as he looked upon his daughter. "You would throw away your duty, your birthright, for a dwarf?" he sneered, his voice dripping with contempt.

Y/n's anger flared, her eyes flashing with defiance as she met her father's gaze. "Kili is not just a dwarf, Father. He is brave, kind, and honorable. He loves me for who I am, not for some political alliance."

The air between them crackled with tension, the weight of their disagreement casting a shadow over the opulent surroundings. Thranduil's face was a mask of disappointment and disapproval, his hopes for Y/n's future crumbling before his eyes.

"Enough!" he thundered, his voice resonating through the hall. "You will obey me, Y/n. You will forget this foolish infatuation with the dwarf and do what is best for our people."

Y/n's frustration flared at his protective stance, her own determination rising to meet his. "Father, I am not a child anymore," she retorted, her voice echoing through the hall. "I have a right to be with the company, my friends. I've made my decision."

Thranduil's expression softened, his eyes pleading with her as he spoke. "I cannot bear the thought of losing you again, Y/n. Please, stay with me. Let us celebrate your return together."

Y/n looked to Thorin for support, hoping he would speak on her behalf. But he remained silent, his gaze unreadable as he watched the exchange unfold.

Frustrated and hurt by Thorin's silence, Y/n's resolve hardened. Without another word, she turned and stormed away, her footsteps echoing loudly on the marble floor as she made her way towards the palace exit.

Legolas, sensing the tension and the pain behind Y/n's anger, followed closely behind her, his own heart heavy with the weight of their complicated family dynamics. As they left the grand hall behind, the echoes of their argument lingered, a poignant reminder of the challenges and obstacles that lay ahead for them all.

In the grandeur of the Woodland Palace, the tension between Y/n and Thranduil reached a boiling point, their voices echoing through the ornate halls as they clashed over her future.

Y/n stood her ground, her resolve unwavering despite her father's anger. "I cannot and will not marry Erland," she declared, her voice firm with conviction. "I choose love, Father, and I choose Kili."

With those final words, Y/n turned away from her father, her heart heavy with the pain of their disagreement. Thranduil watched her go, his expression a mixture of anger, sorrow, and disbelief as he grappled with the reality of his daughter's choices.

The echoes of their heated argument lingered in the air, a stark reminder of the rift that had grown between them, casting a shadow over the future and leaving both father and daughter to face the consequences of their deeply held beliefs and desires

In the sanctuary of her room within the Woodland Palace, Y/n stood dressed in an elegant elven gown, its fabric shimmering like moonlight on water. The intricate embroidery of silver threads traced delicate patterns across the gown, reflecting the elegance and grace of her elven heritage. Her eyes were distant, filled with a mixture of sadness and contemplation as she stared out of the ornate window, the beauty of the woodland realm stretching out before her, yet failing to soothe the turmoil within her heart.

The weight of her argument with Thranduil, the uncertainty of her future, and the complexities of her relationships with both her father and the company weighed heavily on her mind. Lost in thought, she was unaware of Legolas' silent entrance into her room, his concern evident as he approached her cautiously.

"Y/n," Legolas' voice was gentle, his concern evident as he sought to comfort his sister. "I know this is difficult, but you must go to the company. Mend the relationships you believe are broken."

Y/n turned to face him, her eyes filled with a mixture of gratitude and determination. "Thank you, Legolas," she whispered, her voice filled with resolve as she prepared to face the challenges ahead.

With a nod of encouragement from Legolas, Y/n made her way to the prison cells, her footsteps echoing softly in the dimly lit corridors. As she approached, she heard the muffled voices of the company, their conversation serious and tense.

Stepping into the cell, Y/n's presence drew surprised glances from the company, their expressions a mixture of curiosity and relief at her unexpected arrival. With a playful smile, Y/n broke the tension, making a light-hearted joke that elicited a few chuckles and smiles from the weary group.

Realizing the gravity of her previous actions, Y/n took a moment to apologize to the company, her sincerity evident as she sought to make amends. "I'm truly sorry for the pain and confusion I've caused," she said, her voice soft yet firm. "I want to make things right."

She then approached Thorin, her eyes meeting his as she made a heartfelt promise. "I will get you out of here, Thorin," Y/n vowed, her determination unwavering as she looked upon the dwarf she had come to care for deeply.

Thorin's eyes softened, a hint of a smile playing on his lips as he regarded Y/n. "You look so much like your mother. As stubborn as well. Yet her beauty seem to pass on to you." he murmured, his voice filled with warmth and affection despite the circumstances. He looked to were Kili’s cell was. “I believe that he loves you to you know, the way he looks at you. It’s obvious. Go get him, tiger.” 

Embracing the moment, Y/n then sought out Kili, her heart pounding with a mixture of anticipation and hope as she approached him. 

Kili leaned against the cold stone wall, his eyes locked on Y/n as she approached him with a confident stride. The dim light of the cell cast soft shadows on her face, highlighting the delicate features that made her even more captivating in his eyes.

"You know," Kili began, a playful smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth, "when I first saw you in that elven dress, I thought you might decide to stay and become one with the elves. You do look rather enchanting in it."

Y/n chuckled, her eyes twinkling with mischief as she met Kili's gaze. "Oh, is that so?" she teased, her voice dripping with feigned innocence. "Maybe I was considering it, but then I remembered how much I'd miss your charming company."

Kili's laughter echoed in the cell, his heart lightening at the playful banter. "Ah, so it's my irresistible charm that keeps you coming back for more," he quipped, his eyes dancing with amusement.

Y/n rolled her eyes playfully, her lips curving into a flirtatious smile. "Well, that and your dashing good looks," she replied, her voice soft and teasing as she moved closer to him.

Kili's breath caught in his throat as Y/n's proximity sent a pleasant shiver down his spine. "Is that so?" he whispered, the air between them charged with electricity. "I must say, your taste in company isn't too bad either."

Kili reached into his pocket, retrieving a small, intricately carved stone. Its surface shimmered with a subtle iridescence, reflecting the dim light of the cell in soft glimmers. The stone was a beautiful piece of craftsmanship, its delicate engravings telling a story of dwarven lore and tradition.

"I've been meaning to show you this," Kili said, his voice gentle as he held out the stone for Y/n to see. "It is a talisman, a powerful spell lies upon it. If any but a dwarf reads the runes on the stone, they will be forever cursed, or not. Depending on whether you believe that kind of thing. It's just a token - a rune-stone. My mother gave it to me so I'd remember my promise."

Y/n's eyes widened in admiration as she took the stone in her hands, tracing the intricate carvings with her fingertips. The stone felt cool and smooth against her skin, its weight comforting in her grasp.

"It's beautiful, Kili," Y/n whispered, her voice filled with awe and appreciation. "The craftsmanship is truly remarkable."

Kili smiled, his eyes warm as he watched Y/n admire the stone. 

Y/n's heart swelled with emotion, her connection to Kili deepening as she held the stone in her hands. "Thank you for sharing this with me," she said, her voice filled with gratitude. "It means a lot to me."

As they shared this intimate moment, the stone serving as a tangible link to their shared history and shared dreams, Y/n and Kili felt their bond strengthen, anchoring them amidst the chaos and uncertainty that surrounded them.

#kili x reader #kili durin #xreader #hobbit

[babe-bombadil]

Don't Look a Gift Horse in the Mouth

(Part 1)

Summary: What happens when Éomer gifts some flying horses to Fellowship?

Written for the 2023 @fall-for-tolkien event! Inspired by Fly, You Fools! by @scyllas-revenge

Rating: G

Word Count: 527

Read on AO3 or below

It was said that every race had a gift. The elves had immortality. The dwarves had their expertise in stone working. The hobbits had a love for the simple things in life. The Rohirrim had flying horses. 

To them, a horse wasn’t just a means of transportation, it was something that should be revered. Horses were treated with great respect and given meticulous care. The Rohirrim believed horses were central to a person’s wellbeing the same way sleep and time in the sunshine are.

Because of their reverence for the horses, they would not trade a single one, not even to their allies in Gondor. This often made the people of Rohan seem haughty to their neighbors, but they would not change.

This was why it was such a momentous occasion when Éomer gifted horses to the four hunters when seeing their need in the outskirts of Fangorn.

“Absolutely not!” Gimli roared. Aragorn sighed and dragged a hand over his face.

“Gimli, this is an extremely generous gift. We need to use it. I have experience with the winged horses of Rohan and I promise they are not as hazardous as they look.”

Gimli crossed his arms and hardened his glare. “We dwarves were made to live underground! We like to keep our feet on the earth, thank you very much! Regular foul horses are bad enough but you will never get me on one of those-”

“You can ride with me, Gimli!” Legolas offered, cutting in before the dwarf could insult Rohan’s pride. The Riders of Rohan had stiffed as Gimli had been talking and the elf wished to avoid a fight. Gimli, unaware of the disaster nearly avoided, looked up with annoyance to where Legolas sat bareback on his horse. The elves didn’t use such things as saddles, so Legolas had taken it off before he jumped nimbly onto the horse’s back.

“I do not wish for an early death, so I shall have to refuse,” Gimli huffed.

“My friend, we need to take these horses to find Pippin and Merry,” Boromir pleaded. “You can join me and we shall discover how to ride these curious horses together.”

The dwarf sucked in a long breath through his nostrils before releasing it with a sigh. “Very well, Boromir. I shall bear this so that we might rescue the halflings.”

Boromir smiled in return. However, as it had since Amon Hen, the smile did not reach his eyes. Gimli and Legolas believed it was simply worry for the hobbits that was weighing their friend down and if Aragorn suspected there was more on Boromir’s mind, he kept it to himself.

Boromir knelt on one knee and offered his clasped hands as a step. Gimli placed his foot in the handhold and was lifted up to the horse. Boromir swung on after him rather clumsily, unused to the large wings of the creature. Once they were all settled, Aragorn placed a hand on his chest and bowed his head to Éomer.

“We are in your debt. I hope our paths shall soon cross again.”

Éomer copied the action. “I wish you success on your errand. Fly swiftly, Wingfoot!”

Part 2 coming soon!

Comments and reblogs are what I survive on so let me know your thoughts and/or personal headcanons!

#boromir lives au #lord of the rings #boromir #lotr #tolkien #legolas #aragorn #gimli son of gloin #eomer of rohan #rohirrim #flying horses #aragorn is a horse girl #scribbles & drabbles 2023 #aragorn elessar #boromir son of denethor #legolas greenleaf

[stevieschrodinger]

Eddie Munson: Escape Artist

He always had been, and it was borne out of necessity. His parents were shitty, so although he was stuck at home, just a little kid, he couldn't stay there. He had to go somewhere else. So he did. He went to places where bears and lions could talk. Places where teenagers solved crimes and spaceships travelled to other planets. He went to places where dragons and elves and hobbits and vampires were all just average Joe's. And even after he moved into Wayne's, he would still rather live in a book than the real world; everything was much better in a book.

And one thing Eddie became sure of, began to rely on: Happy Endings.

But he knew Happy Endings were for characters in books and not for him, so he started writing his own. Writing his own adventures to play out with his friends. And, secretly, his own stories, the ones where the knight in shining armour or prince charming came to rescue Eddie. Came and took Eddie away to their castle, held him tight while they shared a saddle. Where he was gifted anything he desired, even if he didn't really want things; he just wanted love.

So sure was Eddie that those things weren't for him, so ingrained was the idea that Eddie was to stay alone for ever, that when Steve Harrington reached for Eddie with soft touches, a literal Prince Charming come to life, Eddie startled and responded with bared fangs and spitting venom.

Because things like that never happen in real life. And they most certainly don't happen for Eddie Munson.

It's not until a week later, when Robin literally pulls Eddie out of his trailer by his ear, dragged down the steps and into the presence of Nancy Wheeler, both girls wanting to know what the fuck Eddie thinks he's doing? Steve's been heartbroken all week and he's insufferable? And somehow that is Eddie's fault?

That maybe, maybe Eddie starts to think he could try for a Happy Ending, afterall.

#eddie munson #steddie #steve harrington #stranger things #headcanon

[catofadifferentcolor]

Terrible Fic Ideas #24: LotR, but make it half-Maia!Legolas

I honestly thought I was done with Legolas headcanons, but then this one hit me over the head: what if Legolas’ mother was a Maia?

Bear with me:

We are given little-to-no information about Legolas’ background in canon. The only thing we know for sure is that his father, Thranduil, was originally from Doriath and has been ruling Mirkwood since his own father, Oropher, died of his own poor tactical thinking in the War of the Last Alliance.

But what if we know nothing about Legolas' background because no one in Middle Earth has any idea either?

Just imagine it:

After the War of Wrath, Oropher led his people into the Greenwood and established himself as king over the local population. However this came about, "The few Sindar who had come with him were soon merged with the Silvan Elves, adopting their customs and language and taking names of Silvan form and style. Oropher and his household wished to return to a simple existence natural to the Elves before they had been disturbed by the Valar" [x].

I'm not quite sure what Silvan elves got up to before Greenwood became Mirkwood, but I imagine it involved a lot of frolicking and hunting in the woods, and generally living up to the stereotype forest-dwelling immortal spirits at one with nature. And Thranduil, being the prince of this realm, would be naturally be the best of them all.

I imagine this catches the eye of one of the more minor Maiar sometime in the Second Age - a hunter in Oromë's retinue, most likely, but someone in Vána's retinue could possibly work too.

Thranduil strikes up a relationship with this Maia whenever she passes through, because unlike Melian a hunter of Oromë wouldn't be content to stay in one bounded woods when there are things to hunt across Arda and Aman. It is the epitome of a long-distance relationship.

Key to all of this is that Thranduil never tells anyone her identity. Oh, he very obviously is in a relationship and will disappear for weeks at a time throughout the Second Age to be with his wife, but no one ever meets her - or, as they assume she's just some Silvan elf with no interest in being princess or queen, admits to being her.

Thranduil goes off with his father to fight in the War of the Last Alliance. Unlike his father, he lives and returns to the Greenwood as king of his people.

Shortly after he returns, his Maiar wife presents him with baby!Legolas to raise and rejoins Oromë's hunt. Depending on his actual age when given to Thranduil, Legolas may even have some youthful memories of hunts he spent on the back of his mother's horse and/or of hunts in Aman.

Their relationship continues much as before, and though she makes the effort to be more present for Legolas' benefit it's dealer's choice whether she's successful at it. Maybe as a Maia of the hunt she's not good with children and is able to salvage her relationship with her son when he gets old enough to spend all his days hunting too; maybe she's a really good mother despite her frequent absences and the family dynamics just work for everyone. Who knows?

Legolas' mother is only a minor Maia, and so he's not quite as extra as Lúthien. He's noted for being the best hunter of his age - but most assume that's down to genetics, because of his father's legendary skill, and because of a lifetime of practice, because Mirkwood is Mirkwood.

And, honestly, a Mirkwood filled with spiders to hunt is probably all a half-Maia elf could ever want, particularly when their Maia parent is a huntress of Oromë.

The events of The Hobbit and The Lord of the Rings go as in canon, with the exception of Galadriel saying that she cannot give Legolas a better bow than his mother made for him, and so granting him a different gift. This prompts several questions about Legolas' mother, particularly when Aragorn admits that not even Elrond knows her identity.

The hobbits responsible for The Red Book of Westmarch never learn the truth.

But, as I'm an inveterate Legolas/Gimli stan, Legolas admits the truth to Gimli sometime after that relationship forms - maybe Legolas' mother shows up at some point while they're in Ithilien to check up on her son after the war ends and the truth comes out; maybe it comes out when Legolas is trying to reassure Gimli theirs wouldn't be the most unusual marriage in the family - but no one else ever learns the truth.

It's Legolas' Maia heritage that allows Gimli to sail with him to Aman - either his mother requests it as a boon from the Valar for her son, or something about his ancestry allows him to grant others access.

Bonuses include: 1) Everything that might point to Legolas' Maia heritage is written off as elfish weirdness by non-elves, Silvan weirdness by non-Silvan elves, and Sinda weirdness by Silvan elves; 2) Despite all this, Legolas talks about his mother a lot and so by the breaking of the Fellowship everyone has this idea that his mother is the Greatest Hunter Ever To Live; and 3) the question of just who Thranduil is married to being a big source of betting and speculation for elves, and all the elves the Fellowship encounters try to use them to get the inside track.

And that's it. As always, feel free to adopt this plot bunny, just link back to me if you do anything with it.

Other Legolas Headcanons: First Age | Second Age | Third Age | Half-Maia | Half-Elven

More Terrible Fic Ideas

#plot bunny #fic ideas #lotr #the lord of the rings #lord of the rings #tolkien #legolas x gimli #legolas #thranduil #legolas headcanon #lotr headcanons #tolkien headcanons

[okay-j-hannah]

Since Yuletide

The Lord of the Rings : Oneshot

Samwise Gamgee x Reader

Word Count: 5927

Warnings: This is the sweetest bucket of candy 🍬 just a ridiculous amount of pining and the most gentle Samwise

Request: “Hi I know you probably have a lot of requests but I was hoping you could write a samwise x reader fic or prompt about sam wanting some alone time with the reader but always getting interrupted.” Anon

A/N: Samwise Gamgee has been trying to tell his friend he’s been in love with her for months now, but most frustratingly, something always seems to get in the way of his confession

When Samwise got reminiscent of his marriage to the lovely Miss. (Y/N) (Y/L/N), he always sat the children down and told the tale of how he courted her. It was an elaborate story of the many failed attempts to get (Y/N) alone long enough to say his feelings and intentions.

He would sit in his armchair, one child on his lap and another on his toes, as he described a half dozen attempts to convey his love for (Y/N) in their youth. He spoke of how only persistence and sheer dumb luck brought the pair of them together.

(Y/N) sat braiding their children’s hair, only rosy cheeks and small laughs adding to the story. She adored hearing his side of things, as she was completely oblivious to his affections when they were younger.

And the map of failed attempts was told in the following order.

~

Attempt #1:

“You can do it Samwise Gamgee.” The hobbit was talking to himself as he strolled the path towards Bagshot Row. “Just invite her for a drink.”

He fussed with his hair and tugged at his vest, the idea of speaking with (Y/N) already making him red. Just that morning, giving himself a pep talk, Sam was so confident everything would go according to plan. But now, pulling at long reeds of grass as he walked, the idea that (Y/N) would reject his advances seemed like a very real possibility.

He had to continue talking to himself just to keep himself from turning around. “It’s just a drink. A drink to let her know I’m interested. She… she would give me a chance. I think…”

The path led to the first hobbit holes, smoking chimneys and flourishing gardens. Sam tried to distract himself with the new blooms, seeking any sort of comfort from the growth. They reminded him of days in the surrounding fields – ones where (Y/N) joined the gardeners in collecting plants for the hobbit gardens.

Because that was who (Y/N) was. Though not a gardener herself, (Y/N) was a friend to all and never refused to help when she saw it needed. Perhaps it was then that Sam knew he had to tell her of his feelings.

Or perhaps it was when (Y/N) stood on his doorstep holding two pink flowers and wished to settle a disagreement among friends. Which flower was a peony, and which was a dahlia? He was able to distinguish the pair immediately and was gifted the peony from a radiant (Y/N).

“I knew it!” she had said, “I told Fatty Bolger so when he tried to give me the dahlia and called it a peony. I needed some professional help to prove him wrong,” she winked at him. “He just knew I preferred peonies but had no idea what they looked like. The sorry fool.”

Sam had accepted the flower barely speaking two words the entire interaction. But by the racing of his heart he knew he couldn’t keep the love he had for her quiet much longer.

Perhaps he decided to express his feelings when (Y/N) came pounding on his door bearing a large blueberry pie.

He reddened immediately but ignored it to question her heavy breathing, “(Y/N)? Are you alright?”

She panted, wiping at her sweaty brow with the back of her free hand. In the other she displayed the fresh pie, “I’ve stolen the Sackville-Baggins’ prized pie.” She gave a toothy grin, “And I need to lay low – do you mind if I come in?”

Sam raised his eyebrows but moved to the side to let her in.

“Thanks,” she smiled, “I only just got away.”

“Why would you steal a pie?” Sam asked, leading the way to the kitchen, “For a bet?”

(Y/N) sat, “No, those greedy Sackville-Baggins were teasing young Tolman Cotton something awful. The poor boy was nearly in tears before I led them away. The only way they’ll win at the town fair tomorrow is with this pie – serves them right to lose it. You know how they treasure their trophies.”

“You rescued Tolman Cotton?” Sam felt his heart lift, “Why?”

She shrugged her shoulders, finding the nearest forks and handing one to Sam, “It didn’t seem right.” She dug into the pie without cutting a slice.

Sam cracked a smile, “That was very kind of you.”

“It was the right thing to do. Now are you going to share this victory with me, Mr. Gamgee? If you don’t I might just eat this whole pie myself.”

Sam smiled at her full cheeks, grabbing a forkful of the pie.

Perhaps Sam knew his heart was fit to burst when she offered to help trim an overgrown garden one day.

With a gardening apron and basket of tools, Sam knelt in the earth to pull away unwanted grasses and weeds, only to discover dying plants hidden beneath. He sighed at the neglect and thought of the new plants he could replace them with.

A sudden presence near his shoulder caused him to jump, “(Y/N)! How long have you been standing there?”

“Long enough to see you mourn a few flowers.” Her smile was gentle, holding less of its usual mischief, “Want some help?”

“Oh, no – that’s all right.” He brushed dirt from his hands and stood to meet her, “But… but I wouldn’t mind the company.” His heart leapt into his throat.

Time slowed for Sam as he awaited her answer, “I’ll grab a trowel.”

His face split into a grin, “You don’t have to help. I just want a friend to pass the time.”

“I’ll start under the window.” She went for the ground, kneeling and immediately getting her hands dirty in the dry earth.

Sam shook his head in wonder, “You don’t have…”

“I know,” she said simply, cutting him off. “Tell me what these are.”

Sam’s chest felt aglow with a burning he couldn’t explain. He knelt beside her, “That was a beech tree sapling. Without proper care it dried out.” He became painfully aware of how dirty his hands were pointing out the plant.

He hid his hands, trying to wipe them clean on the dry grass beneath them. (Y/N) noticed and promptly plunged her fingers into the dirt, successfully burying them. As if ensuring soil had coated every nail and knuckle, she gestured, “Could you hand me that trowel?”

Sam met her gaze with dazzling eyes, amazed at her actions – the lengths she went to ensure others were comfortable were astounding. He blindly found the garden trowel, too busy watching (Y/N) smile at him.

When their hands met, Sam could’ve sworn the world went quiet to watch.

She left her hand laying on top of his for a second longer than necessary before closing her fingers around the trowel, “Thank you.”

Needless to say, Sam was anxious to pursue those feelings. After months it seemed necessary to make his intentions clear as any other hobbit could beat him to courting her all because he wasted time being flustered in her presence.

And as he walked to her bright yellow door, he found it quickly opening to reveal a bounding (Y/N). She held handfuls of gear as she jumped down the stone steps.

“Oh, hello Sam!”

He lost the ability to speak for a moment.

“Are you alright?” she asked.

Sam blinked hard a few times, “Yes – yes, of course. Where are you off to?”

“Fishing,” she smiled, “Care to join?”

Yes, he thought, and while on the boat together he could express his feelings for her. It was a rather romantic idea – he smiled at his luck – rowing them out together and admiring the water before admitting how in love he already was with her.

“Sounds like the perfect way to spend the afternoon.”

“I quite agree,” she beamed, “There should be enough room for all of us.”

Sam’s smile fell, “All of us?”

“Merry and Pippin are coming too. Merry’s got a boat near Bucklebury Ferry.”

As if on cue the mentioned hobbits came outside, both with their own fishing gear and completely oblivious to how they ruined the chance for (Y/N) and Sam to be alone.  

Holding back his sigh of defeat, Sam mumbled, “I’d have to borrow a pole and fishing line.”

~

Attempt #2:

A few days later Sam was determined to uphold his confidence in confronting (Y/N). He stood outside her yellow door, rolling his shoulders and closing his eyes. He concentrated on what he was going to say, mumbling aloud.

“Hello, (Y/N)… good morning, (Y/N), how are you?” he rubbed his hands together, “The suns out today. No, that’s ridiculous. Um… it’s summer! She knows that already, why would I open with that?” he grimaced. “(Y/N), I was hoping you were home. And clearly, you are – and I wanted to ask…”

“Sam?”

He snapped his eyes open, turning to find (Y/N) poking her head out of the kitchen window.

“What have you got your eyes closed for?”

“Oh, well…” his tongue stopped working, “The – uh, the sun hurts my eyes.” His mouth tightened into a thin line as he listened to his own poor excuse.

(Y/N) seemed to think it endearing, thank goodness. “Right. Hey, would you care for a sweet summer treat?” Her smile was contagious.

“Do I always,” he smiled back, “What did you have in mind?”

She lifted her arms out of the window to show a bowl and whisk in her hands, “I was just whipping some cream. The strawberries are ripe for picking this morning.”

Sam felt his mouth water instantly. The first of the strawberries and cream that season. “Sounds delicious – how can I help?”

She fell back into the kitchen and met him at the door without the whipping cream, “We can gather the berries together!” She grabbed his hand and led him around to the side gate, “They’re just over here.”

Sam stared at their clasped hands, his feet growing heavy at the thought of (Y/N)’s hand in his. It was working out better than he thought – the incident with the fishing trip a forgotten memory. He could envision (Y/N) and himself buried among the strawberry bushes, picking handfuls of the red berries. He would try to toss a few into her mouth, and she would perch one on the top of his nose. She’d make a competition on who could pick more, and Sam would offer to carry her basket.

And when they were laughing and smiling and snacking on delicious summer berries would Sam confront her. He’d offer her a strawberry stained hand and tell her everything.

“Hello, (Y/N) dear.”

Sam stopped in his tracks, (Y/N)’s hand falling out of his.

“Hello, mum,” she replied, “Look who showed up to help.”

(Y/N)’s mother popped her head up from between the bushes, “Oh, goodness Sam. Don’t you have enough gardens to tend to as it is?”

He swallowed bitterly at another unexpected guest to his planned love confessional. “I’m always willing to help a friend. I learned that from your daughter.”

(Y/N) beamed before gasping, “Oh, I forgot to ask! Why were you at the door? Did you need something?”

Sam looked towards the ground and fought to suppress the disappointment that rose in failing to share his feelings. “I wanted to be in your company. I was going to ask if you didn’t mind being in mine for the day.”

Her grin was heart stopping, “I love your company, Sam. Always have.”

~

Attempt #3:

Sam was not going to give up.

He grumbled as he sat in The Green Dragon, occupying a table with his closest friends. While they ate and drank and laughed merrily, Sam slouched in his seat, hand wrapped around an untouched tankard. He stared at the flickering candles in the hanging chandeliers, mindlessly following the trails of melted wax.

Frodo clapped a hand to his shoulder, “Come, Sam. Why the long face?”

“His mind is stuck on a certain hobbit lass,” Pippin grinned mischievously, stuffing his mouth with bread and cheese.

Merry picked at his smoking pipe, “You should have seen him on our fishing trip.” He whistled, “Furious, he was. Wanted (Y/N) all to himself.”

“(Y/N)?” Frodo grinned, “Is this the hobbit you refuse to name? She clearly has your heart – why should that make you sulk?”

“Because he hasn’t had a chance to tell her yet,” Pippin said through a full mouth.

Sam sighed out his frustration, wiping a hand across his face, “This is my heart we’re discussing, shouldn’t I get to speak on its behalf?”

Merry and Pippin shared a look. Frodo couldn’t contain his smile, “My dear Sam, you’re besotted.”

He groaned, “And what is she? Carefree and unburdened by this feeling.” He pawed at his chest, “I feel sick just thinking about her. How do I get her alone long enough to get it off my chest?”

Merry filled his pipe with tobacco, “Well, don’t look now, but she’s just entered through the back door.”

A quick jerk to look behind him unbalanced his tankard, ale spilling over the edges, “Oh, let the earth swallow me up, please.”

“No, here’s your opportunity,” Frodo urged, “While it’s on your mind, go talk to her.”

“It’s always on my mind,” Sam mumbled, sipping his remaining ale and following (Y/N) with his eyes. She went to speak with a group of musicians in the corner.

“We believe in you,” Pippin said mutely, stealing Sam’s portion of the meal, “Tell her to care and be burdened by the feeling.”

Sam swallowed hard, standing abruptly and sending his chair flying to the ground. The clatter couldn’t be heard much above the chatter of the merry drinkers and Frodo assisted him in straightening the chair.

He flexed his hands, feeling his fingers go tingly as he tried to think of something to say to her. He was nearly to her shoulder when he said loudly, “Evening Miss. (Y/N). I was wondering…”

But when she turned around a fiddle was in her hands, and she was playing a jolly tune. She was beginning to sing a traditional drinking song, her brows furrowed when she spotted Sam behind her. But her voice didn’t waver as she questioned him with her eyes.

“Ho! Ho! Ho! To the bottle I go; to heal my heart and drown my woe.”

Sam shut his mouth tightly and waved her off as if to say, “Don’t mind me. Forget I was ever speaking. Better yet, forget you even saw me here gawking at you.”

She began bouncing on her feet, playing the fiddle expertly and singing with a radiant voice, “Rain may fall and wind may blow, and many miles be still to go…”

The pub joined in, raising their mugs to the dancing (Y/N) as she flitted between tables and drinkers, serenading them with her merry fiddle.

Merry and Pippin went as far as to climb on top of their table. Frodo remained in his seat, though he clapped along with the tune. He met Sam’s eyes across the room and shrugged his shoulders.

Sam pouted, sighing out his defeat once more, but he couldn’t help but watch as (Y/N) sang and played and danced. Her curls bouncing around her rosy complexion. The beauty and merriment in her face was making that feeling in Sam’s chest burn brighter in a painful turn of events.

The task was proving more difficult that he expected.

“… but under a tall tree I will lie, and let the clouds go sailing by!”

It didn’t stop him from complimenting her song afterwards or offering to buy her a drink or sharing an evening talking and laughing with all of their friends.

~

Attempt #4:

“Sam!”

His head popped out of the gardens, a weed or two stuck in his curls, “(Y/N)?”

She was carrying a woven basket, cheeks freckled from the summer sun. The sight of her bouncing up the path made him think of all the things he loved about the Shire.

Golden light and green hills and summer berries and wheat fields. Of sun warmed faces and fresh tilled earth and of homecooked meals and the comfort of having someone’s hand in yours.

He stood quickly to his feet, messing with his rolled up sleeves, “Are you alright?”

“Of course,” she breathed, making it to the garden gate, “But I need your help.”

“Anything.”

She smiled at the speed of his response, “I need flowers. Lots of flowers.” She leaned over and pressed a finger to his sun kissed cheek. “And I figured I know just the gardener to help me.”

His face split in a dazed smile, “Do I know him?”

“You! You foolish weedwhacker.” She held up the basket, “For the Old Took’s party. I need flowers to make into crowns and necklaces.”

Sam untied his apron, “There are the meadows of the East Farthing. We could start there.”

“Oh, I didn’t mean to interrupt your work,” she rushed out, watching him lay his apron across his garden tools. “I thought I’d help until this yard was done and then we’d go.”

“Don’t you pay any mind to that,” he scolded, “Let me help you for a change.”

They rounded the corner and practically holding his breath, Sam offered his arm to her. (Y/N) smiled, wrapping a hand around near his elbow.

Sam exhaled and cleared his throat, “How has the party planning been?”

“Time consuming,” she huffed, leaning into him, “Which is why I need help with this flower picking business. I’d be hopeless if I tried to do it all by myself.��

All by themselves, Sam noted, feeling that familiar burning in his chest. He pictured them sitting between the long grasses, the wind gently playing with her hair. They would sift through the leaves to find the biggest blooms, filling their basket. Sam would offer his favorite to her and watch her weave it into her curls. (Y/N) would collect the fallen petals and decorate the top of his head with them. They’d practically be nose to nose as she giggled at the soft color speckling his hair.

“There,” she’d say, “Ready for the party.”

“But not you,” he’d reply, “It’s your turn.” And he’d place small blossoms between the coils of her curls, framing her face with soft colors of white and purple and pink.

“(Y/N),” he said quietly, “I’ve been thinking…”

“Hmm?” she hummed, holding onto him tighter.

He paused as if to wait for an inevitable interruption, “Have you ever thought about… about settling down?”

“Settling down…” she repeated slowly, trying to understand him.

“Planting some roots, I mean,” he continued, “Have a place of your own maybe.”

She nodded hesitantly, confused as to where the conversation was heading. “Of course – one day – but I’ll stay with my family until…”

“Until… you have someone to settle down with?” Sam asked hopefully. With each word his heart was rising higher and higher into his throat.

“Yeah,” she said, “I wouldn’t want to move into a hobbit hole all by myself.” She laughed and Sam had to focus on his big clumsy feet.

He remained quiet as he asked, “So you’ve thought about finding someone?”

“Why all the questions, Sam?” she asked playfully, “What are you not telling me directly?”

He didn’t respond right away. (Y/N) noticed.

She stared at him as they walked. Her smile fell and her eyes grew wide. She watched as Sam struggled with his next words.

“(Y/N), I’ve been meaning to talk to you about something.”

She spotted the dusty rose color flooding between his freckles. It made her brow crease to see him so pink. And a strange warmth grew in the pit of her stomach.

“I want to tell you how I…”

A squeal of laughter split through the air behind them. The pair of them broke apart and turned towards the noise. Scrambling down the path was a group of children, all barefoot and curly haired.

They screamed with laughter, “Miss. (Y/N)!” they cried, “Miss. (Y/N)!”

Sam backed away as the children surrounded the love of his life. That suffocating disappointment entangling itself with his overflowing heart.

“Good morning, my hobbits,” she said, picking up one toddler and placing them on her hip. “Are we ready for an adventure today?” She poked the child’s pink nose and relished in the giggle it produced.

Sam had a hand to his stomach, attempting to staunch the confession that had just begun to spill. “What’s all this?” The smile he gave was much more of a grimace.

“Our reinforcements,” (Y/N) replied, taking hold of another child’s hand. The look she gave Sam was rather sympathetic – she could see the frustration clear on his face.

“Well, then,” he sighed, “We’ve got flowers to pick, don’t we.” He opened his hands for a child and placed them on his shoulders.

(Y/N) watched him tromp onwards, leaving her to herd the remaining children. She gestured for them to follow as she caught up to her upset friend. She held the little hobbit on her hip as she asked, “You were saying, Sam?”

He barely reacted to her question, “Oh, nothing important. I’ve been looking into some available hobbit holes near Bagshot Row. I thought you might be interested in helping me look.”

(Y/N) had the thought he wasn’t being truthful. “Of course, Sam. Whatever you need.”

~

Attempt #5:

“(Y/N), I’m not sure about this.”

The hobbit in question was currently on the furthermost branches of a mighty oak tree. On her tip toes she reached for the birds nest above her.

“Almost there!”

Sam had his hands outstretched as if he could stop her from falling, “Let’s just get a ladder!”

She barely managed to tip the lost chick into its nest, “Got it!” Then a crack split beneath her feet, “Uh oh.”

The branch snapped in half, sending (Y/N) tumbling down. She squeaked and squealed as she barreled into each branch beneath her. She landed in a pile of leaves and twigs on the forest floor.

“Ow,” she grimaced.

“(Y/N)!” Sam yelled, meeting her at the base of the tree, “Are you alright?” He grabbed her hands and pulled her from the roots.

She winced, “Yeah, ow… I just fell out of a tree.”

“You did just fall out of a tree.” There was a smile in his voice, but his face was nothing but concern. “You’ve got a scrape right here.” He pointed at her shin.

(Y/N) sighed, pulling up her skirts to get a better look at her leg, “I have a feeling I’m going to have a few bruises tomorrow.”

Sam swallowed hard, pushing down her hands to release her skirts, “I’ve got some bandages in my gardening bag – stay right here.” And he went back to the forest path to reach his fallen tool kit, which he dropped upon seeing (Y/N) high up in a tree.

“You keep bandages with you?” (Y/N) laughed, spotting more cuts and scrapes on her limbs.

“I’ve cut myself a few too many times snipping roses,” Sam said, returning with some rolled cloth bandages. “I told you we should’ve gotten a ladder.”

(Y/N) watched him kneel beside her, “Maybe I should listen to you more.” The warmth that started a few weeks ago began to simmer again. For a while now she had the suspicion that there was something Sam wasn’t telling her.

Sometimes she’d catch him staring at her at The Green Dragon. And at the marketplace. And while walking through Hobbiton. He was always quick to look away, grabbing the nearest object to distract himself.

The funniest instance being when he grabbed a drying fish and was harassed by the seller to pay for whatever he touched immediately.

“I’m listening now,” (Y/N) said quietly, watching him gently wrap cloth around her leg. “No more interruptions.”

Sam paused and in doing so revealed how shaky his hands were against her skin. “There does seem to be the annoying habit of interruptions whenever we’re together.”

She gave a short laugh, “Yes. It’s unfortunate.”

He tucked the bandage, grazing her ankle as he pulled away, “Why unfortunate?”

“Because I do so love when it’s just us together.”

The speed with which he stood caused his curls to bounce, “You…” He stared at her with lights shining in his eyes, his brows flown into his hairline.

(Y/N) felt her heart pinch. But his enthusiasm fell instantly.

He let out a breath before tilting his head down, suddenly serious by the line that developed between his eyebrows. “You don’t mean that.”

(Y/N) gave a second of pause before gasping a laugh, “Of course I mean it. And I wish you would believe it.”

He gave a shy smile, “You’ve always been so kind.”

“Sam,” she said softly, “Saying that isn’t a kindness. I’m saying that because it’s true.” She reached for his hand, taking a step forward. But putting all her weight on one leg sent a shock of pain through her body. “Oh!”

Sam caught her outstretched arm and kept her steady, “Woah, I’ve got you. That fall got you good.”

“Just a bit,” she hissed a laugh, wrapping an arm around his waist. “Would it be terrible to ask you to walk me home?”

His mind was narrowing in on her hand around him, but he managed to say, “No, I was going to offer to walk you anyway.”

She smiled though the crease in her brow suggested she was still in pain. “I don’t believe I’ll be getting out of bed tomorrow.”

Sam chuckled, threading his own arm around her waist, “Then I shall bring you breakfast.”

“Really?”

They began to hobble back towards the path and to Sam’s gardening kit. “And second breakfast. And elevensies, if my cooking’s up to scratch.” He took pride in making her smile despite the limping.

“Might as well include luncheon and afternoon tea.”

“I make a delicious pepper-crusted steak with garlic potatoes. I could bring that for dinner.”

“And I can simmer rabbit stew for supper,” she laughed, “I can’t have you cooking all day.”

Sam grinned, though his heart tugged, “I don’t suppose you’ll have your mother to take care of you.”

“Yes,” (Y/N) said, holding onto him for support, “But I’d still like you to come see me.”

And while Sam kept her upright, thinking desperately for a way to pour out his pent up feelings, he dreamed of the perfect time.

A time when she wasn’t hurt.

“I’ll be there,” he said, thinking of what he’d say once she felt better. Of how she’d jump into his arms and hold him tightly. Of how she’d return the sentiment with joy and love in her eyes. Of how he’d lean in, and she’d kiss him so willingly.

It was suddenly very warm – the space between them burning.

~

Attempt #6:

Sam was still pursuing his endeavor to find a hobbit hole of his own. It had been difficult when the real deciding factor was whether or not (Y/N) liked the home.

And now, as he sat in the sparsely furnished living room with a for sale sign in the round window, he stared at the fireplace. He was imagining beautiful things. Impossible things.

The logs lit and simmering a pot of cranberries, orange slices, and cinnamon sticks. An old bowl of stew meat and vegetables sat beside him from supper. Festive corn stalks and wheat bundles decorated the windowsill. The fall harvest was just around the corner.

And he could see the kitchen table laden with pumpkins – the insides out and prepped for pies. A tray with dozens of pumpkin seeds ready to be roasted sat next to the spiced apple cider.

When he closed his eyes he could almost hear the patter of little hobbit feet. Could almost hear their squeals of laughter and pleas to help plant the root vegetables. Carrots and turnips and radishes.

He opened his eyes, chin resting in his hand. When he looked to his right there was another chair, pushed to the side when the other owners moved out. The tug of his heart made him rise to move the armchair adjacent to his.

It was plush and sage green. Complimentary of the burnt orange chair he occupied.

When he retook his seat, and peered at the other, the tugging on his heart imagine more beautiful, dreamy things.

(Y/N) sat there, cross stitching a pattern into a woven fabric. She thread her needle with strands the color of red wine. She hummed one of her bar tunes as she continued the pattern of a round hobbit door, surrounded by all the things that grow.

She was rosy and content and subtly smiling like she was the happiest she could ever be.

Sam stared and stared as a burning crept up his throat.

He wanted it bad. Really bad. Everything he saw in his head. The feeling of (Y/N) by his side – sharing the space – making it a home.

He couldn’t stand the burning any longer. He launched himself from the chair and through the red wine door. He skid past the picket fence and down the dirt road.

He mumbled frantic words of love and dreams. Local hobbits out for an evening stroll jumped out of his way as he stumbled past. He leaned over the edges of the road to collect flowers along the way, arranging them as he practiced his speech.

The same speech he’d been working on for months now.

It was clearly an act of desperation, he realized. But he was miserable – completely and utterly miserable. And the only one that could put him out of his misery was (Y/N).

He was desperate for (Y/N).

And within minutes he stood stone cold in her front garden. The sun was quickly setting, near twilight. The tall grasses and feather reeds became illuminated by fireflies, twinkling their silent support.

He could’ve sworn the frogs were singing in the nearby pond and the clouds turned lilac and blossom pink to encourage a beautiful evening. He sought the comfort of the flowers trembling in his hands.

And a split second too late he noticed the front window glowing with candlelight, the curtains drawn, with (Y/N) watching him.

Worry was plain in her face as she went for the door. “Sam?” She had a shawl around her shoulders, and she pulled it closer as she stepped into the garden. “You’ve been standing there for five minutes.”

“Have I?” It sounded like he was out of breath, “I’m sorry.”

She attempted to smile past the worry, “That’s alright. Is something the matter?”

The candlelight from inside was illuminating her figure, making Sam’s heart hammer, “Um… yes, something’s the matter. It has been for months now. Maybe even years.”

“Goodness, Sam,” she muttered, “That’s quite a problem you have.”

He nodded, “And the only hope I have is you.”

“Me?” (Y/N) said, “How can I help?”

He suddenly remembered the flowers in his hand, “Oh – I, uh… picked these for you.” He thrust them into her hands and noticed regretfully how the stems were bent where his fingers clutched at them. “And I have something to say.”

She preened and picked through the flowers, deciding to rest them against the doorframe, “What is it, Sam?” she asked softly.

He felt like he was choking on his own tongue. He paused – waiting for her mother to interrupt or friends to intervene or children to distract – but nothing came to stop him. “It’s funny, I’ve been practicing this talk for months and I still can’t get it out right.”

(Y/N) watched him warmly, silently encouraging him as the crickets began to play their nightly tune.

“Do you remember last Yuletide when it snowed? It rarely snows in the Shire and the few times it has it’s gotten so cold the Brandywine freezes. And the last Yule days were just full of fear. Fear for a frozen winter. Fear for wandering timber wolves. Fear for festivities canceled because of the weather. But you know the one thing that wasn’t full of fear?” He smiled like he was seeing something faraway, “You.”

“While everyone fought for firewood and yarn to knit blankets – you were dancing in the snow.” His face felt hot, “You were catching snowflakes with your mittens. You were teaching children to ice skate. You were selling hot chocolate and peppermint candy. And it was so refreshing.”

“I remember,” (Y/N) whispered.

“I had volunteered to make a supper for families in need, and while peeling dozens of potatoes you came to my door,” he laughed, “You came with pink cheeks and chattering teeth and brushing snowflakes out of your hair. ‘Hello, Mr. Samwise’ you said, ‘How many hobbits does it take to peel a town’s worth of potatoes?’ and I said, ‘One Miss. (Y/N) – I’m very good at peeling potatoes. But I wouldn’t mind a visit.’”

(Y/N) laughed with him, “That was a good night.”

“It was,” Sam cleared the emotion from his throat. “It was such a lovely night. And while it snowed, and the wind blew, and the townsfolk grumbled… we drank apple cider and laughed until we cried. I never stopped thinking about that night. How we juggled apples and told wild stories and stuck cinnamon sticks in our hair.”

(Y/N) nodded, feeling the nostalgia pull at her.

“It was that night I knew I had to marry you.”

She became still, not even drawing a breath.

Sam eyed her tentatively, “I knew I needed to keep you in my life. Because if life with you could be snowflakes and cinnamon and laughter and warmth, then I wanted it.” His shoulders felt heavy, “From that night on I did everything I could to show you I could be the one. That though I’m not the perfect choice, I would do anything for you. Because just being next to you makes me happier than I ever thought possible.”

“Sam,” she whispered, “That was almost a year ago. For a year you’ve been trying to… court me?”

“I was just trying to show you that you wouldn’t regret giving me a chance. But the last month or so I’ve wanted to come right out and say it. But no matter the circumstance, there was always someone or something interrupting us.”

(Y/N) had a few fingers over her mouth, “Sam, is this a marriage proposal?”

He was staring at her with wide eyes, “It can just be a proposal of courtship?”

It was a few seconds of tense silence. Sam could feel everything he had riding on this next response. (Y/N) finally removed her hand from her mouth, and she was… smiling.

“Yes,” she said.

Sam blinked a few times, “Yes to… to which proposal?”

“Yes!” she cried, flinging her shawl aside and bounding from the door. She wrapped herself around Sam and if it weren’t for the garden fence beside them, they would’ve toppled over. “To whichever – to whatever you want now – to both!”

Sam was choking on his own laughs, holding onto her with the warmest sense of relief, “I love you, (Y/N). I don’t want to go a single day more without you knowing that I love you.” It was pouring out of him, positively overflowing – the warmth and happiness that came as he held her.

She leaned away, fingers finding the curls on the back of his head, “I love you, Samwise Gamgee. I think I have for a while now. Not quite since Yuletide,” she laughed, “But maybe since picking flowers for the Old Took’s party.”

And she pulled him in and kissed him.

~~~

Tag List:

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[queen-scribbles]

SHUT UP, part of Hal's hobbit present today was a gifts of Yule past selection box so now he has the present bearing pony!!!! :D

#queen in middle earth #halthiras #OH and rowan raspberry's here rn isn't she? #i should go see if i have enough figments for anything cool

[middleearthpixie]

Promise Me ~ Chapter Three

Summary: Friends since childhood, Gabriella has long held back her feelings where Boromir is concerned, as she did not want to risk losing his friendship if he didn't feel the same. But, then he is summoned to Rivendell, and the night before he is to leave, he stuns Gabriella by confessing his feelings for her as well. 

But, war is coming and he cannot put off what he knows must be done. All Gabriella can do is wait for him and pray for his safe return. 

Fandom: The Lord of the Rings (AU, Boromir lives)

Pairing: Boromir x ofc Gabriella

Characters: Boromir 

Warnings: Pining, Battle, death 

Rating: T

Word Count: 4.5k

Tag List: @sotwk @fizzyxcustard @evenstaredits @way-too-addicted-to-fandoms @emmyspov @finnofamerica @lathalea @ass-deep-in-demons @quiall321 @mistofstars @glassgulls @justfollowtheroad @guardianofrivendell

If you’d like to be added (or removed) to the tag list, please just let me know!

Previous chapters can be found here.

A cool breeze rustled through the leaves, kissed the night air to make sleeping comfortable.

If only he could sleep.

For Boromir, sleep was not something that ever came easily to him. Not since he was a child, really. But of late, it eluded him more than ever. Even in a place such as Lothlórien, he couldn't find peace. 

While the silence of Rivendell unnerved him, he wasn’t any more comfortable in Lothlórien, for he did not trust the lady Galadriel. Having heard too many stories as a child about the dangers of her magic to Men, he found it hard to put aside his suspicions about her. All in all, he’d rather just continue on their way to Mordor, and Mordor was honestly the last place any sane man wished to be. 

But, the decision was not his. His responsibilities lie with the people of Gondor and keeping them safe and if that meant seeing the hobbits Merry and Pippin and Frodo and Samwise to Mount Doom, he would do so. He still wasn't entirely convinced destroying the Ring was the best course of action, but as he was outvoted, it hardly mattered.

In the end, all that mattered was returning home.

Without thinking, he reached into the neck of his tunic and gave a gentle tug on the silver chain that had remained around his neck since Gabby fastened it there.

“Your mind refusing to let you be?”

He looked up as Aragorn settled on the marble bench beside him, and nodded. “Something of that sort, yes. The little ones are still asleep, I hope?”

“They are. But what keeps you from doing the same?”

“I’m not comfortable here,” Boromir murmured, still running his thumb along the silver bear. “And I won’t be comfortable at all until this is all behind us.”

“What do you hold?” Aragorn asked, gesturing to his own throat. “I’ve noticed you fuss with it a bit.”

“This? It was a gift.” Boromir tucked it back beneath his tunic. “A token, given to me to keep watch over me. Over us, I suppose, although she didn't know about the Fellowship being formed. She didn't know about any of this, and yet she felt I needed it, so perhaps she sensed something.”

“She?” A narrow dark brow rose ever so slightly. 

Boromir tried to ignore the pang in his gut as Gabby floated into his mind. He’d never missed anyone the way he missed her. “She, yes. An old friend and one I look forward to seeing again.”

“We will go with the sun. We still have a bit of a road before us.” Aragorn leaned his head back and looked upward. “You should try to sleep some. And worry not. These borders are well-protected. No orcs or goblins or cave trolls will disturb us.”

Despite his growing sense of doom, Boromir managed a hint of a smile, although he felt no humor at all. They’d lost their guide, the gray wizard Gandalf, who’d fallen into shadow in the depths of Moria at the proverbial hands of a Balrog. Although he’d only know the man in passing, the sense of loss hung as heavily on his shoulders as it did on the shoulders of the hobbits, of Aragorn. 

Aragorn. The heir of Isildur, who was the reason they were on this fool’s quest to begin with. He’d been in possession of the Ring. Had stood at the edge of Mount Doom with Elrond, and despite the elf king’s insistence he destroy the Ring, Isildur refused. 

While he’d eyed Aragorn with some suspicion at first, and steadfastly refused to acknowledge him for what he truly was—heir to the throne of Gondor— Boromir had since come to respect him. He still strongly believed Gondor needed no king, but he did respect the Ranger and had also come to trust him to a certain degree. They were cut of the same cloth, both of Men, both ready to do what was asked of them in order to see the Ring destroyed and peace restored.

As he’d sat in Elrond’s council, Boromir would have never thought he and the Ranger who went by the name Strider, would ever be able to work together. And yet, there they were, in this tranquil garden, away from the horrors of Moria and given a bit of a respite, as he was certina more horrors lay ahead of them still. 

A low, mirthless laugh rose to Boromir’s lips as he shook his head. “I will find no rest here. No peace. I will find no peace here at all.”

“Why?”

“I heard her voice,” he nodded in the direction of the woods, where the lady and her husband had gone earlier, “inside my head. She spoke of my father and the fall of Gondor. She said to me, even now, there is hope left. But I cannot see it. It is long since we had any hope. My father is a noble man, but his rule is failing and our people lose faith. He looks to me to make things right and I’d do it. I would see the glory of Gondor restored.”

He let his eyes rest as he gazed off into the darkness. “Have you ever seen it, Aragorn? The White Tower of Ecthelion? Glimmering like a spike of pearl and silver, its banners caught high in the morning breeze. Have you ever been called home by the clear ringing of silver trumpets?”

He looked over at Aragorn to as the ranger nodded. “I have seen the White City… long ago.”

“One day, our paths will lead us there… and the tower guard shall take up the call: The lords of Gondor have returned.”

“And when they do,” Aragorn gestured to his own throat once more, “will she be amongst those waiting?”

Boromir smiled for what felt like the first time in months, and it was a genuine smile as Gabby’s face appeared before him, her white-blonde hair free and falling softly about her face, her eyes that stunning shade of silver they were when she was happy, her smile as bright as the sun after hurricane blew through. He ached with wanting to see her. The kisses they shared were only the beginning of what he wished to share with her and when he returned, they would make up for the weeks they’d been apart, for the years when they’d neither one been brave enough to confess their true feelings.

“Aye, she will.” He caught the medallion again and let his thumb graze over it. “And when this is all over and we are at peace again, I will never leave her side.”

“Does she know this?”

“Not yet, no,” he admitted with a wry grin. “It’s something that I think caught us both by surprise, although I know not why it would. It has been a lifetime since I’ve thought to share my best and worst days with anyone else but her. She knows me better than anyone else, better than my father or my brother know me. She—she understands. I cannot explain how or why, I just know she does.”

Aragorn nodded. “We should all be so fortunate. And we do have hope still. As long as we keep moving forward, there is hope.” He rose from the bench, his hand coming to rest on Boromir’s shoulder. “Remember that.”

“I try, but it is not easy.”

Aragorn gave a quick squeeze, then moved off into the darkness, leaving Boromir with his troubled thoughts.

“Master Boromir?”

He jumped at the unexpected voice and an unfamiliar elf emerged from the darkness. Unlike the Rivendell elves, those who called Lothlórien home were almost all blond, and this one was no exception. He was tall and slender, his sleek blond hair pulled away from his face and held back in an intricate braided pattern. 

“Yes.”

“My lady asked that I give this to you.”

“What is it?”

“I know not. I did not ask. I only did as my lady bid.” He held out a small square of rough-looking parchment. “It is from Rivendell.��

“Thank you.” Curiosity burned through Boromir as he accepted the missive and sank back onto his bench while the elf receded back into the darkness.

He recognized the red wax seal, of course, but had no idea why someone from Rivendell would be sending him a message of any sorts. True, several of the elf maids blushed and giggled with their friends when he’d passed by, but he’d not spoken to a single one, so why would any of them be writing him?

The wax broke, crumbling to the ground and when he unfolded it and looked down at the signature, he smiled. 

Gabby.

To his surprise, his eyes stung as he smoothed the missive over his thigh and settled back. Her handwriting was small and swirly and far neater than his penmanship would ever be, and it suited her perfectly, for he heard her voice in his head as he began reading:

“My dear Boromir,

“I have no way of knowing if you will ever even see this, but the Rivendell elf who rode all the way to Minas Tirith to bring me your letter promised me he would do his best to see this reached you. But he also told me you’d left Rivendell, so I can only hope that sneaky Elrond knows where you are and how to reach you. Somehow, I feel he must, so I will take the chance.

“Things are quiet here still, but the sounds of battle grow closer every day. Many have left now, taking refuge in villages far south of here. Dory and I are now in charge of the tavern, as my mother and father left several weeks ago. But, we are needed here, so even if I was willing to go—which I am not and you will not scold me for it when you return—I would not feel right. The women who’ve stayed all now work in the Healing Houses and thankfully it is not too busy yet. I still tend to get queasy at the worst times and I am so terribly embarrassed to admit that I throw up far too easily at the sight of blood and gore.

“I do not know where you are, or what quest it is Elrond has given you—and I know there is something because otherwise you would have told me. And I know it must be of great peril, because otherwise you would have told me. I try not to worry, but each day, that becomes more difficult. The sun rarely shines and rain almost continuously falls now and that does nothing to brighten my mood or raise my spirits. 

“I miss you. I cannot wait to see you. And I will chide myself for all of my worry when that day comes you are here once more. 

“Please be careful.

“Always yours,

“Gabby.”

He leaned his head back and let his eyes close. They stung. His heart hurt. His arms felt more painfully empty than they ever had before. Once upon a time, he’d have mocked himself for feeling this way, and would have refused to acknowledge that he felt it at all. But ever since he’d kissed her that first time, he knew what had been missing from his life. 

He pressed his forehead to hers, a sheepish smile playing at his lips. “I’ve wanted to do that for some time now.”

“I’ve wanted you to for some time,” she replied softly.

“So then you are not about to slap me?”

“Not this time, no.”

He chuckled softly. “Good.”

He looked about. The hobbits—Merry, Pippin, Frodo, and Samwise, were all asleep at the base of the trees not far from where he sat. Aragorn had settled down not far from them and appeared to be asleep as well. 

Only he remained awake. 

With a sigh, he rose, tucking Gabby’s letter inside his tunic, and walked away from the others. During the day, the woods around him glowed golden, but at night, the gold gave way to silver and that bathed everything, even the darkness. He envied all who slept peacefully, and looked forward to the day when he count himself amongst the numbered, when he would sleep just as peacefully. 

Finally, he settled at the base of the tree alongside Aragorn and pulled Gabby’s letter out once more to read again. He would not have the chance to answer her, not that it mattered, for he had not the words, either. At least, not ones he could put in writing. What he wished to tell her would only be done face to face. 

With that, he tucked the letter away once more and closed his eyes. They were leaving at first light and had a long way still to go. 

They set out at dawn, in small canoes along the Anduin and as he paddled along, an unnerving gloom settled over him, one that grew stronger each time he looked over at Frodo. He’d asked the council to pass stewardship of the Ring to him, to let him use it to defend Gondor and had been roundly denied. 

But why? He should have it. His people spilled their blood to keep Rohan, Rivendell, Middle Earth, as safe as possible. Elrond owed it to Boromir to be the one to wield the power of the Ring to destroy Sauron before Sauron could reclaim it and unleash all of its evil power upon Middle Earth.

But no. Instead, it was given to Frodo Baggins, a Hobbit not quite half his size, who knew neither how to fight nor defend himself. He knew books and gardening, tea and food. 

And yet he would be the one to save all of them.

As they drew near Parth Galen, Aragorn led them ashore. “We will remain here until dark and continue on then.”

Legolas, the Mirkwood elf who barely looked old enough to be away from home, shook his head. “We should keep moving.”

“No,” Aragorn told him, shaking his head. “Orcs patrol here…”

Boromir left them to their debating, climbing up along the rocky ledge leading to Akon Hen, to go a bit deeper into the forest. They needed wood for a fire, so wood he would gather. Besides, it helped to take his mind off thoughts that grew darker and more troubling by the hour.

He tried to distract himself. Tried to bring Gabby’s face into his mind, but she wouldn’t come to him. Instead, all he heard was a whisper. Soft. Seductive. At first, he thought perhaps it was simply baser urges playing tricks on his mind—teasing him with the same lustful thoughts that swirled through him when he’d kissed Gabby that first time, the ones that made him ache with wanting to touch her, to feel her skin bare against his, to feel her under him, wrapped all around him. 

But this whisper was not the one of desire. At least, not for Gabby. That lay beneath it, somewhat smothered by it since they’d left Lothlórien, and as he crested the slope, his arms laden with wood, and Frodo came into view, the whisper grew louder. 

Take it.

His gloved fingers tightened about the rough wood with its peeling bark. No. He was stronger than this. 

You should carry it. He is but a halfling, soft and weak. You are a warrior. A solider. A man. 

He squeezed his eyes shut as he tried to still that silken seductive voice that grew louder still. But he couldn't drown it out. It grew far too loud.

“None of us should wander alone,” he said, glancing over to see Frodo jump. The hobbit looked up at him, and Boromir continued, “You least of all. So much depends on you.”

Take it.

“Frodo?”

The halfling continued staring up at him, his expression blank. 

His arms still laden with wood, Boromir strolled toward Frodo. “I know why you seek solitude. You suffer. I see it day by day. Are you sure you do not suffer needlessly?”

Frodo still said nothing, so Boromir went on, “There are other ways, Frodo. Other paths we might take.”

“I know what you would say,” Frodo finally replied, not blinking as he held Boromir’s stare. “It would seem like wisdom, but for the warning in my heart.”

“Warning?” Boromir stiffened slightly.

Take it now.

He stepped closer to Frodo. “Against what?”

His back against a toppled stone head, Frodo skirted along it, keeping distance between him and Boromir, which almost made Boromir laugh. The tiny creature honestly thought that he could get away, could bolt like a frightened rabbit, if Boromir decided to snag him.

Little simple fool.

It’s yours. Take it.

“We’re all afraid, Frodo,” he said, following as the hobbit backed up the path Boromir had just trod. “But to let that fear drive us, to destroy out hope… don’t you see that it madness?”

To his credit, Frodo’s normally soft voice remained even and clear. “There is no other way.”

Irritation shot through Boromir, made his spine stiffen and his shoulders tense. “I ask only for the strength to defend my people!”

As he spoke, he slammed the wood to the ground, sending it rolling and bouncing in all directions as fury surged through him.

Do it now!

“If you would lend me the Ring—”

“No.”

The fury burned hotter through Boromir’s veins now, and for every step backwards Frodo took, Boromir took one closer to him. “Why do you recoil? I’m no thief.”

“You are not yourself.” 

He almost smiled at the halfling. Almost. “What chance do you think you have? They will find you. They will take the ring. And you will beg for death before the end!”

His voice echoed around them as it rose with each word. That voice in his head was a shout now, a roar as it commanded him to keep walking toward Frodo.

Frodo turned away to quickly walk up the hill. Boromir stood rooted to his spot for a long moment as a red haze fell before his eyes. “You fool. It is not yours, save by chance. It could have been mine.”

He gave chase then, the red haze guiding him, the voice urging him.

Knock him down. Choke him. TAKE IT!

“It should be mine!” He threw himself at the hobbit, caught him about the waist to drag him down and slammed him into the ground. “Give it to me!”

Frodo fought back with a strength that took Boromir by surprise. The hobbit flipped onto his back and Boromir lunged. “Give it to me!”

Frodo fought to knock Boromir’s hands away from him, his bare feet thudding against the leaves and dirt as he tried to propel himself out from under the much bigger man, his voice ringing out as he cried, “No!”

“Give it!”

“No!”

Then, like that, the hobbit put the Ring on and simply disappeared. Boromir sat back, the red haze before his eyes redder still. “I see your mind! You will take the Ring to Sauron!” He shouted this as he looked about for the signs of where Frodo might have gone, to no avail. “You will betray us! You’ll go to your death, to the death of us all!”

He scrambled to his feet, fury pumping through him with each heartbeat. “Curse you! Curse you and all the halflings!”

In his fury, his boot caught one of the pieces of kindling and he tripped over it. He slammed back facedown into the ground and slid partway back down the slope and as he did, the voice inside his head vanished and the red haze fell away as sorrow and regret washed over him like tidal waves.

“Oh… oh, no…” He lifted his head, looking wildly about as he called, “Frodo?”

The realization of what he’d done, of what he’d tried to do and what he’d said hit him all at once. His throat tightened, tears stung the backs of his eyes and hot shame poured down over him. “Frodo…”

He slowly sat up. Broken bits of leaf clung to his hair, dirt spattered his trousers and tunic and cloak, and there was no sign of the hobbit. “What have I done?” His voice broke on the last word. “Please, Frodo…”

There was no sign of him anywhere. But that didn't mean he was out of earshot, so Boromir raised his voice. “Please, Frodo, I’m sorry!”

But the hobbit had gone.

Boromir got to his feet. What was he going to tell the others? How did he confess to what he’d tried to do and not find himself cast out as a traitor? He had to find Frodo, had to prove to him—to prove to all of them—he’d not hurt the little fellow, that it was but a momentary weakness that grabbed hold of him. 

He had to find all of them

Before it was too late.

His heart hammered a furious rhythm against his ribs as he heard the orcs before he saw them and as he leapt over the ridge, Merry and Pippin came into view. Boromir landed between orcs and hobbits, sword drawn, the Great Horn in reach if he needed it.  

He swung, cleaving the first two creatures in half. The hobbits, each with a weapon of their own, threw themselves headlong into the fray.

But there were too many of them. His sword in one hand, Boromir grabbed the horn that kept banging against his hip and brought it to his lips.

The bleat rang out through the forest, hopefully throughout Gondor, all the way to Rohan, and all points west, for all who heard the sound would respond. Any reinforcements at all would be welcomed.

He blew again, then lowered it, looking over at Merry and Pippin. “Run! Just run!”

They started off, but then stopped. “Fools!” he bellowed again. “Run!”

He leaped between them and the orcs, spun about to take out whatever he could to give them a chance to get away. Whatever time he could buy them, he would.

He never saw the first arrow coming until it slammed into his chest, just below his collarbone. The breath left his body in a mighty rush and the force knocked him back a step. Everything around him went silent as a fireball of pain exploded inside him and drove him to his knees. 

Fury bubbled forth, giving him the strength to thrust up to his feet once more and swing. The arrow’s movement drove more heat through him, but he ignored it as the red haze fell before his eyes again. Two more orcs fell. Sweat bathed him, dripped from him as he fought to remain on his feet. His left arm useless now, he gripped tighter with his right even as he saw the Uruk-hai draw his bow once more.

The second arrow hit him in the thigh. He sank to his knees, unable to hold back his howl of pain at the fire scorching through him from the reverberations. The red haze softened. His legs refused to hold him and he looked up at the two halflings staring at him. He’d failed them. He’d failed Frodo.

He’d break his promise to Gabby.

Gabby.

“The side of my face grows hot.” He stopped and turned toward her. “Going to tell me you aren’t staring again?”

“Not this time, no.” She shook her head. “I am instead trying to find a reason to convince you to stay.”

“Gabby,” he knew why she said what she did, and it did bring something of a smile to his lips, “please stop. Staying is not an option. You know this, so please stop asking me to.”

“I know, I sound like a child and I pout like one, but I’m terrified something will happen to you. Something terrible.”

He caught her hands in his and his heartbeat sped up as the air crackled all around them.  Her hands were so tiny, so soft, in his, and touching her felt right. “I will be fine and when I return, you will laugh at yourself for being so worried.”

“And if you aren’t? If you don’t?” She looked up at him. “I know that sounds so ominous and dramatic, but—”

“Gabby,” he broke in gently, giving her hands a slight squeeze. “I will.”

Thunder rolled low in the distance as he held her gaze and his heart sped up as she whispered, “Promise me.”

“I promise you. And perhaps by then you will have finally worked up both the nerve and the strength to knock me down.”

“I most definitely will.”

He winked. “Promise me.”

“I promise you.”

“Good.” He bobbed his head slightly. “Because I will be back. I have a very good reason to be, you know.”

He’d kissed her then, her lips soft and teasing and every bit as sensual and passionate as he’d imagined.

The bear medallion thudded softly against his chest as he swayed and fought to remain upright, to get back up and finish what they had started.

“I am, yes. As I said, I expect it back, so now you have a reason to return.”

“I have more than one reason, Gabby. And I will return.”

Her eyes shimmered with tears as she nodded slowly and whispered, “Promise me.”

“I promise you.” He bent to her, his kiss light and gentle and when he drew back, her eyes still shimmered. “I will be back.”

He let out a roar of pain that could most likely be heard in Rivendell itself and shoved himself up once more. He swung, each orc felled by his blade fueling him to swing again.

The third arrow sent him back to his knees as it sank into his thigh beside the first. He couldn't get back to his feet now, swayed as he knelt there, Gabby’s face floating before him, pain radiating through him. 

He looked up at the foul creature standing before him, bow drawn once more and refused to look away. He would show no fear by looking away. Besides, it no longer mattered. He no longer saw the orc. The orc no longer existed. 

Gabby stood there, serene and beautiful, in her favored trousers and tunic that hugged her curves and caused the most deliciously, absolutely completely wicked thoughts to course through his mind when he looked at her. 

I love you. 

A flutter of movement caught his attention, but it was no more than a blur as the blackness rushed at him from all directions and he slumped to the ground. 

#Lord of the Rings #LOTR AU #Boromir #Boromir fic #LOTR fanfic #Lord of the Rings Fanfic #Fan fiction #LOTR fanfiction #AU #Boromir x OC #Is it hot in here? #Romance #everybody lives #sean bean

[eunoiaastralwings]

Hi, lovely! I'm so glad your requests are open! I have a cute idea that I was wondering if you'd be interested in writing?

Either Elladan or Argon bc they need more love ❤️

They have a secret admirer that occasionally leaves letters or little gifts (like cookies or small trinkets) for them. (They really hope it's y/n!)

Y/n accidently outs themselves at some feast/party and are so embarrassed, and it super flusters our elf boy, and he manages to confess as well

Thanks in advance if you decide to write this!

Be Careful What You Wish For

characters elladan x reader

fandom tolkien- the hobbit the lord of the rings

a/n @fictionfordays - I have it and I really hope you enjoy it hun - was lowkey tempted to end this in angst lmaoo

Elladan grinned - seeing yet another little piece of note left by his hunting gears.

He raced up and picked by the lavender scent note - his fingers excitedly opening it and his brother’s calls became distant:

‘The only time I have realized I have secretly fallen for you is when everything around me reminds me of you, in the smallest things, and the most unexpected moments, and I cannot tell you a single thing about it’

Elladan let out a soft breath - that he didn’t know he was holding.

His grin turned into a soft smile - as his eyes glossed over the words again.

Then, suddenly the note was ripped from his grasp.

He groaned - turning to his twin with a glare.

“Elrohir-”

“The only time I have realized I have secretly fallen for you. . .is when everything around me. . .reminds me of you, in-”

Elladan rolled his eyes and grabbed the carefully crafted and decorated note back from Elrohir. 

His usually calm and composed twin - compared to himself - broke away from his usual façade to tease him for the little notes and sweet trinkets left by his supposed secret admirer.

It had been almost a month since he received these little gifts - left lying in places that were bound to be found by him.

The only people who would know him that well, were the ones of his kin . . .and Y/N.

The daughter of Lord Glorfindel - his heart never ceased to skip a beat whenever he set his eyes on you and he hoped more than anything you had left these precious little messages and trinkets for him.

Though - Elrohir being the wiser twin had advised not to let his heart go astray. . .what if it wasn't you?

It would leave not only his - but whosoever heart he captured broken too. . .

But call him selfish - he wanted. . .needed it to be you. . .

Elrohir had seen it through too - and he deeply hoped it was indeed you, you could not bear to think of the consequences otherwise. . .

“Be careful what you wish for, brother. . .”

Elrohir said quietly and moved away - making Elladan sigh.

Elladan gulped reading over his precious little note again - imagining it as it was your voice reading it out loud to him.

He was in too deep for something he wasn’t even definite about.

Elladan quickly hopped down from the high grounds - following his twin back into the centre of Rivendell.

The feast of Starlight was happening tonight and his father would scold him to Valinor if he was late for it.

He quickly got ready - dressing himself in the finest wear his father and sister had picked out for him - knowing he lacked any skills in looking presentable for feasts and festivals such as these.

Once Elladan was finished and dressed to look suitable for the event - he was surprised to meet you as he opened the door.

Your hand was moments away from knocking on the door and you blushed furiously as he chuckled.

“Hello, dear lady - what may I help you with?”

He asked - bowing generously to you.

Once composing yourself you rolled your eyes in a very unladylike manner - it was one of the reasons Elladan felt moved by you.

You didn’t let rules tie you down - you were your own person, proving much to be your father’s daughter.

He always admired it.

“I was hoping to get your opinion of my dress. . .”

You blushed as you spoke.

Elladan then dropped his gaze to your dress - a shimmering color that complimented your skin.

You wore it elegantly - you looked truly beautiful dressed in your favorite color and Elladan suddenly felt unable to form words as your beauty radiated causing his cheeks to redden a little too.

“I knew it. . .I look awful don’t I?”

You sighed - in seeing how long he was taking to answer. Unaware of what was really happening to him.

Elladan quickly reached for your hand as you turned away looking ashamed.

“Wait - no you look radiant!”

He blurted out fast - his face blushing again and he needed to clear his throat.

Elladan thanked Eru for his fair skin - for if his skin had been ruddy or freckled like the Feanorian relative he had heard he would have been a bright red berry.

Elladan suddenly felt the pain of the Feanorian as he stood in front of you - bashfully.

He grinned seeing you let out a sigh of relief.

You looked positively glowing - he thought.

Once Elrohir had joined the both of you - you three made it down to the festivities.

While tended to his duties behind his father - his eyes still remained on you.

You had gotten a hold of his sister Arwen and was interacting with her well into the night - that was until Aragorn had whisked her away.

Sneaking away from his father’s side he grinned making his way to you.

You had instantly smiled seeing him - making his heart skip a few beats.

“Elladan. . .”

You smiled.

“I told you look radiant!”

He smirked - has he overheard so many of the guests and residents complimenting you. 

Including Lindir couldn’t help himself from delivering a compliment.

You blushed with a small thanks.

Elrohir came to your side not too long after - and joined Arwen and Aragorn had finished their dance they joined in your little circle too.

“Elladan, brother - why don’t you say about the lovely note you had gotten this evening?”

Elrohir suddenly said - making Elladan almost choke on his drink.

Your eyes had widened and you slowly looked at Elladan you tried to compose himself - then sent a glare to his twin.

Elrohir was the only one who knew Elladan had a secret admirer.

“A note, hanar?”

Arwen questioned - the excitement in her voice could not be missed.

Elladan tried to say something - but he was immediately cut off by Elrohir.

“Why, yes, little sister - a note from a secret lover no less.”

Elrohir smirked.

You had gotten unnaturally quiet - sipping away the wine in your hand but you listened attentively to the conversation.

“You have a secret lover, hanar!”

Arwen spoke excitedly to Elladan - her eyes sparking wanting to hear all the information about it.

“Oh what were the words again? Something about ‘The only time I have realized I have secretly fallen for you. . .is when everything around me. . .reminds me of you. . .’ I wasn’t able to read the rest of it - because someone took it away from me.”

Then Elrohir met eyes with his twin - it was only when he side-eyed you did Elladan understand what his twin was doing. 

Elladan looked at you for a quick second - your eyes were on your wine but you were nervously biting your bottom lip.

He looked back at Elrohir who sneakily gestured to Sîdhel - Lindir’s daughter.

Snapping his eyes shut for a second - he took a deep breath.

“Yes - I do. . .sometimes little trinkets. But usually it is little notes.”

His eyes snuck to you as he spoke to Arwen.

“They are deeply poetic and beautiful - definitely from a gifted writer. . .perhaps even a singer. If I didn’t know any better I would be from Sîdhel. Her lady always knows the right choice of words - her words are always poetic. Her form of speech is as if reading a poem from one of Master Erestor’s scrolls. She knows a little craftsmanship from-”

“No!”

You suddenly shouted - your eyebrows had knitted together in anger and you almost slammed your glass down on the table beside you. 

You earned some glances - but you were too angry to notice them.

Elladan frowned seeing the sudden change in you.

“How could you think they were from Sîdhel? Sîdhel never showed any interest in you. She surely hasn’t spent countless nights trying to think of perfect words to fit into the feelings my heart feels for you. Elladan you never listen - I spoke those words to you before, perhaps not exactly as written, but it was plainly obvious. And the little trinkets I left you? Did you not understand the carved horse at least? When you first took me out horse riding, it was the exact horse I carved for you. Or the flowers? - Remember the flowers we saw when you first took me hunting! Or-”

You suddenly silenced your shouted as you caught yourself in what you were doing. 

You gulped - blushing a deeper shade of red by the second as four pairs of eyes watched you in shock.

You couldn’t even look Elladan in the eye - hastily making a ridiculous excuse you quickly escaped.

Your father’s bright blond hair was within sight and you were around to let him know you were going to retire early tonight.

Then suddenly a grabbed your wrist from behind you - you knew that familiar grip and you refused to meet his gaze.

“Y/N. . .”

Elladan breathed out - still unable to believe what he had heard.

“I-. . .forgive me. . .”

You sighed - only for Elladan to pull you to him and press his lips on top of yours.

Your sighed widened in shock but found yourself immediately kissing back.

After a moment he pulled away - placed his forehead on your forehead.

“My brother warned I should be careful what I wish for, - because I wished for you, I wished for them to be from you, meleth.”

You blushed.

“I thought you were hoping for Sîdhel. . .”

You frowned.

“My clever little starlight, I was hoping to catch you out.”

He winked as he smirked.

You rolled your eyes - you should have known Elladan surely had ways to catch you out on your own game.

“You are truly a fool for not understanding my gifts to you.”

You muttered - feeling a little upset.

“That I am - but I am your fool.”

Elladan grinned.

You laughed.

“I love you, Elladan. . .”

You confessed.

He was about to reply when someone had cleared their throat behind you.

Both of you turned to your father with crossed arms and a raised eyebrow.

“Ada. . .”

You tried - but Elladan immediately cut you off.

“I love her!”

He suddenly blurted - making you burst into laughter.

Glorfindel then only smirked.

“Good!”

He took his leave.

“Elladan!”

You laughed at the look on his face - he looked as if the doomsman of the valar had arrived before him.

He shook his head.

“Well at least your father approves.”

“He sure does.”

You laughed - then smiled as Elladan dove in for another wish.

They say you should be careful what you wish for you - and as Elladan protectively and lovingly kept you in his arms, you knew you wished for the right thing.

Taglist form

tara's taglist: @wandererindreams @fizzyxcustard @ranhanabi777 @spidergirla5 @asianbutnotjapanese @floraroselaughter @mismaeve

#elladan #elrohir #tolkien #elldan x reader #answered #eunoiawrites #the hobbit #lotr #lotr x reader #elves of imladris #rivendell #rivendell elves #tolkien elves #elves #lord of the rings #middle earth #half elves #peredhel #imladris

[lightthewaybackhome]

2022 reread: I've totally and utterly lost count of how many times I've read this book, but two things struck me this time:

-Frodo's Age: I'm getting closer and closer to Frodo's age when he begins this epic and personally destroying adventure, and I find myself seeing Frodo in a whole new light. You see his calmness, his wisdom, his love of the younger Hobbits, the agony of knowing the burden he bears, it all takes on a new weight when you look at it from the perspective of a 50ish-year-old man instead of a 20ish-year-old young man. The journey has more solemnity to it, and you understand the upheaval it brings to a more settled, tired point in life. You understand that he is closer in age to Aragorn than Merry and Pippin. This is another area where I think the movies lost something. The movie Frodo is far too young. Going on an adventure as a person in your 50s is way different than going on an adventure in your 20s.

-Gimil's Gift: The whole Lothlorien scene is still one of my favorites in the book. It is so elvish, more elvish than anything else Tolkien wrote. You can truly sense the beauty, timelessness, magic, joy, and sadness of these beings. Gimil's gift always makes me cry, but what struck me this time was how it brought the elves and dwarves full circle, uniting them back together. Dwarves murdered Thingol in Doriath. Thingol was kin to Celeborn, and Galadriel lived with them in Doriath for many, many years. If anyone has a right to hate Dwarves it's Celeborn and Galadriel, and yet, Galadriel goes out of her way to welcome and heal much of the rift between elves and dwarves, which is probably what makes way for Legolas and Gimli to be such friends. That relationship starts in Lothlorien. What delight must it have brought Tolkien to write some of those scenes, even knowing that his readers at the time wouldn't grasp their depths, and how thankful I am for the Silmarillion.

I love it!!!

Also, speaking of the movies, Gimli, Merry, and Pippin are all such more well-rounded, solid, courageous, and wonderful in the book. Just saying. And don't get me started on Aragorn.

#lord of the rings #the lord of the rings movies #jrr tolkien #the fellowship of the ring #reread #book review #favorite book #I'm thankful to live in a world with Tolkien

[sunnyrosewritesstuff]

Day 2- Past BPB Winners

This poll is for which fic you want to see updated on July 14th as part of my 7 day birthday gifts to the fans! If you are unfamiliar with my works or need a reminder, check out the links and summaries below the "read more" before you vote. Other poll information for this week can be found here.

And any fics that don't win but still collect a substantial amount of votes are eligible for a Redemption Vote on June 24th! Otherwise, thank you for your participation! 😍😁

Missed out on a chance to vote in a previous poll? Shoot me an ask or comment on the poll and I'll factor your vote in! Voting officially ends for all polls on June 26th.

Just to See You Happy- Frodo Time Travel Fix-It; Frodo has carried the Ring and deserves as much rest as any mortal can bear. He refuses to see his mission as complete until Bilbo finds his happiness. When Valinor does not hold the answer he needs, he launches himself into the past into an adventure that doesn't belong to him all in the hope of finding Bilbo's happiness.

Soul Traitor- Reincarnation Soulmate AU; Betrayal among soulmates is unheard of in all the free races of Arda, yet that’s exactly what Durin VI, King of Khazad-dûm, endures. Heartsick and angry, he damns the Valar for their choice and earns their wrath in return. He and his former love will be reincarnated until the wrong between them is righted. Thorin Oakenshield, Durin’s lastest reincarnation, believes nothing can break that curse but for the Arkenstone that was stolen so many years ago. Gandalf, the meddlesome wizard, offers a hobbit translator for their quest. Yet, this hobbit may be the key to uncovering more than just a gem. An ugly truth that has remained hidden in the misdeeds and lost words of the past, about to be unlocked and free Thorin and Bilbo from this seemingly never ending cycle.

A Mother's Curse- Reverse Werewolf AU; A mistake made during the Fell Winter has turned Bilbo into a werewolf. Having always wondered if there was a way to reverse his curse, Gandalf believes he has found the answer. And it will require Bilbo to travel with a company of thirteen dwarves determined to take back their homeland from a dragon.

#birthday plot bunnies #the hobbit #bagginshield #previous winners #you choose which fics you want to see updated