#lake house near the shire

[outofangband]

Trees from Tolkien’s Canon (A-H)

short detour from darker/Narn writing for a nature reference! Trees are beloved to Tolkien and his forests are some of the most important and beautifully described regions throughout his writing. This is a reference for trees mentioned in Tolkien's writing with information on where they grow when applicable.

I also included the names in elven languages where applicable!

Note: I will do shrubs and smaller trees in a different post so I didn't cover hazel or hawthorn here. I've also already made a post about the Fragrant Trees (though I want to do more speculation on them).

flora, fauna, geography and environment of arda

Alders "As he drew near, the carrion birds rose from the ground and sat in the alder trees beside Tarn Aeulin". Alders are a genus in the birch family of deciduous trees that commonly grow near water. In their few Legendarium references, they are indeed almost always found by rivers and lakes. The quote above from The Silmarillion regarding Beren's discovery of the deaths of his father and his men takes place in the highlands of Dorthonion. They are also referenced as growing by a stream West of Hobbiton in The Lord of the Rings and are mentioned by Tom Bombadil who says "fear no alder black!".

There are several words in earlier languages for alder, namely, ulwe in Early Quenya which means alder tree.

Apples Apples, and specifically crabapples or wild apples are referenced a few times in The Lord of the Rings. They are first mentioned in Bilbo’s walking song and orchard apples are later mentioned by Sam in reference to the fruit him and Frodo were given by the elves of Woodyend. They are cultivated throughout Middle Earth in the third age and are grown in Gondor and other human realms.

orva in early and neo Quenya means apple and arwad in Gnomish (proto Noldorin) means apple tree.

Ashes Ashes, deciduous trees in the olive family, are referenced several times in The Lord of the Rings, namely as materials for spears (the riders of Rohan) or staffs (Gandalf). They are also said to grow in Fangorn where there are ash tree ents. Most words for ash seem to refer to rowan or mountain ash but soros in Gnomish might refer to ash trees in general.

Bay Bay trees (in the Laurel family) are referenced once in association with Ithilien. Sam collects bay leaves for a meal.

Beech: Beech trees are some of the most commonly referenced trees. They grow by the gates of the palace of the Elvenking in Mirkwood. They grow also in Ithilien where they are noticed by Sam after his rescue by the eagles. In The Silmarillion, the forest of Neldoreth, part of Doriath, is a beechwood and in the tallest of these trees was Lúthien imprisoned. Brethil forest also contains beeches. Neldor means beech in Sindarin and feren in middle Quenya. There are also various older, Telerin and Ilkorin words.

Birch: Brethil means silver birch and the forest of Brethil, the woods where the Haladin dwelt west of Doriath, was full of them. As was the forest of Nimbrethil located near the havens of Sirion. The ship of Eärendil was made from wood of this forest. They also grow in Dorthonion, around Tarn Aeulin and near the house of Mîm Southwest of Brethil forest. In The Lord of the Rings, they grow in the Shire and in Fangorn forest where once more, there are birch tree ents.

Cedars Like bay trees and several other species, namely cypress, olive and terebinth, cedars are mentioned only once, told to grow in Ithilien.

Ebony Ebony is mentioned only once and in the poem by Bilbo about Eärendil where it is said his arrows were cut from ebony.

Elms Elms are mentioned by Bilbo in The Hobbit where he describes seeing landscapes scattered by oak and elm when carried by the eagles. Legolas laments the peace he will no longer find under beech or elm at Pelagir when he hears the cries of the gulls and Pippin sees elm trees growing along the Stock Brook. In The Silmarillion and The Lays, Thingol is described as the king of 'beech, oak and elm' and there is a forest of elms in Southern Ossiriand.

Firs Firs are some of the most common conifer trees in Tolkien's writing. They grow in the Green Hills near Hobbiton, by the trollshaws, throughout the Misty Mountains and Southern Mirkwood, Fangorn, and in the woods of Dunharrow south of Edoras as well as near the entrance to the path of the dead. Though they are not referenced as much in The Silmarillion, they grow in the Ered Luin's foothills by the spring Thalos, as well as elsewhere in Beleriand though not specified. Firs are notably associated with darker locations, likely due to the dense and dark nature of firwoods.

Holly: the forest Region in Doriath where Menengroth was located was a forest full of Holly trees. They were also found near the house of Mîm in Beleriand. The kingdom of Eregion in the Second Age was also associated with them. They notably grow by the gates of Moria and in the Ered Luin. region is the Sindarin word for holly

Horse Chestnuts Horse chestnuts grow in Fangorn forest and the three hunters camp one night under a large one. One can also see them in Tolkien's illustrations of Hobbiton. They are mentioned in the Lays to grow in Doriath where Lúthien dances to the song of Daeron beneath them.

#the silmarillion #the hobbit #the lord of the rings #beleriand #musing and meta

[wow-rp-locations]

Old but Gold(shire)

As Goldshire is quite infamous for its population of roleplayers, especially the ERP-ers, this title may be a little concerning. Rest assured that we will not be covering roleplaying hubs like cities and villages with a lot of RP activity now or in the near future, so Goldshire is off the table for now. However, it would be a shame to leave out the lovely hut just outside it, even if the Goldshire crowd occasionally makes its way over there.

This cozy lakeside house in the middle of Elwynn Forest is surrounded by beautiful woodland. It has plenty of space for family roleplay, plenty of bed space for your soon-to-be-family roleplay, and a lovely fireplace with a second opening on the second floor (however they made that work) to keep all bedrooms nice and warm.

Inside the building, you can find two ladies, Helene Peltskinner, a trainer for skinning, and Adele Fielder, a leatherworking trainer. While they do not seem to enjoy the fact they have practically been replaced by Goldshier's trainer for all professions, they still live their peaceful lives with a smile on their faces. The many chairs provided in the open space of the main room make for a good location to go to when holding a meeting with a small group (and the lone chair by the wooden pillar may be used as a time-out chair for misbehaving group members). Apart from bookshelves, barrels, bottles and pots, there are also a few toys scattered around, clothes are stored away and pretty flower wreaths decorate the walls.

Upstairs we have a table full of books (all but two chairs must have been brought downstairs) and two smaller tables with even more books and a few pots on them. We also have two big bookshelves, filled to the brim with literature of all kinds. The green carpet in the middle adds some comfort to the area, though it would benefit from taking some of the chairs from downstairs and placing them around the middle table.

Now we get to what we can assume has been the most sought-after bedroom at some point in history. The big bed provides enough space for a nice sleepover while not seeming too huge when lying in it alone (though guests seem to prefer taking someone with them when coming here). With three closets there is enough space for all your armor sets, the fireplace and the candle provide a cozy romantic ambiance and in case your company turned out to be quite boring after all, there are books on one bedside table, while the other is filled with a drink to drown your sorrows and a metal bowl to chase them out of the house with.

Looking out through the door is quite the treat when staying in this hut. You get quite a nice view of Crystal Lake and the forest behind it. Any serious fisherman will be delighted to see a small pier extending out into the lake, even if it's rather short. Any amateur fisherman will be delighted to see Lee Brown, the local fishing trainer, standing on that pier. To keep him some company, he brought along Jason Mathers, a rather serious-looking fella, and young Matt who already loves to fish, even though he mostly catches old tangled nets and some underwater plants that get caught on his hook.

Lastly, we do have to mention some strange ongoings, as we pride ourselves on being truthful in our reports. Some people have reported hearing a scary voice in the upstairs bedroom when it gets very quiet. Another strange situation occurred with a group of young children. they don't seem to play, instead, they stand around in a strange formation beside the house. These children then walk away, only to return later and stand inside the house. That is all they do and I am a little frightened by them.

This has been the World Of Warcraft Tourist Guide and I wish you a fun RP experience

#wow #wow rp #world of warcraft #world of warcraft rp #roleplay #warcraft rp #fantasy #blizzard

[luna-writes-stuff]

CHAPTER I

A Kili x OC fic

Previous chapter // Next chapter

Tw: None

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In which Raewyn nearly commits genocide.

The Shire; A peaceful place where not even a threatened scream entered the air. Raewyn had not walked here since the murder of her family. When Gandalf took her under his wing, they hardly came near the Shire. Even as she grew of age - and left the old wizard - the girl did not step foot west of Bree. Short images of her life before the orcs flew by as she recognized a small amount of spaces. The bakery, which used to provide the clan of six with freshly baked bread, brought back a nostalgic smell, and the happy laughter of hobbit children brought a familiar sense of home to the young woman, even as it had not been hers.

She now walked among the paths, getting certain surprised looks from hobbits, but none dared to speak. She couldn't blame them, really. She was covered in full body armor whilst she carried her weapons visibly. Daggers were attached to her legs as her bow proudly hung over her shoulder. The short sword in her holster around her hip clashed along the metal with every step she took, not really providing herself with a quiet appearance. Nor any sort of non-verbal language to tell the small creatures she had not been a threat.

The night was cloudy, but not yet cold. There was a soft breeze in the air, but it did not cause shivers to run along one's skin. On the contrary; the wind was pleasantly warm. The sounds among Hobbiton were pleasant to the young woman's ears. The occasional chatter and laughter coming from the hobbits brought a smile to her face. Although it was late and dark, the small houses were swarmed with little people. Whether they were friends or family, Raewyn couldn't tell, but she knew it would never bother them. Hobbits were kind and friendly, and would never say no to some company on lonesome nights.

She scanned the little holes, keeping in mind a green door with Gandalf's sigil. Or at least, that's what the wizard had told her. She looked at Farris, who was following her from above. The owl had taken multiple stops on the shoulder of her owner, but it was only to get something to eat. Afterwards, the bird would fly away again, awaiting the signal of Raewyn to find a safe spot to sleep.

Climbing up the hills, the young woman observed the homes, which were scattered amongst each other instead of placed in one line. She liked that about the Shire. Everything was arranged neatly, yet there was a small amount of chaos. It brought a perfect sense of balance to the place.

As she climbed higher, the gardens and hobbit holes became larger. The distance between doors became wider, and the chatter or hobbits became lesser. The view of the Shire was beautiful from here, as the moonlight brightly reflected onto the great lake, in the midst of the hills. Before she could even realize it, she came face to face with the door she was looking for. Thanks to the brilliant light of the moon, a marking was visible on the round wooden structure. She recognized it as Gandalf's sign, informing her that she was, indeed, at the right place. She let out a high whistle, letting Farris know they had arrived at their location. The owl flew low to meet its owner, but traveled into the trees once Raewyn handed her her final piece of meat.

When the bird had disappeared, Raewyn adjusted the sleeves around her arms, making sure she made a good appearance. She inhaled deeply and looked up at the sky, catching a final glimpse of the beautiful stars above. She lowered her head again and placed her hand on the little door that parted the paths from the garden. She quietly stepped inside, carefully closing the fence. Her eyes scanned the many plants that decorated the windows, each one of them their own color. The woman slowly followed the stone steps as she counted her breaths. She would never admit it to anyone, but she wasn't the best in meeting new people. Not counting her height, the young woman had an intimidating appearance. Her armor always shone proudly and her head was held high. Her movements when fighting and hunting were lethal and eyes held an endless look of fortitude and pride. Would she tell anyone she was a relatively shy person, that whole image would disappear. And she had quite the reputation to uphold. There was no room for insecurities and flaws.

When she arrived at the door, she inhaled deeply omce again, before knocking on the door thrice. In her action, she forgot to pull off her helmet, which held others from properly seeing her face. She quickly took it off, holding it under one of her arms. When no one answered the door, she began hesitating. Maybe the meeting was another day. Maybe they had already left. Or perhaps she was at the wrong address after all.

Looking back at the sign, she crossed out the thought of appearing at the wrong house. Her eyebrows furrowed, now staring at her hands. Should she knock again? Did the hobbit hear her? But would she knock again, would she be considered impertinent? The hobbit could perhaps been eating and she would be disturbing. Knocking again would be impolite.

Before she could get herself out of her train of thoughts, the door in front of her opened. She froze at the spot, making the hobbit look at the slightly taller woman in confusion.

"Good evening?" The hobbit spoke hesitantly, not quite sure what a woman with that armor was doing at his doorstep. Raewyn cleared her throat, trying to find a way to address the small creature.

"Bilbo Baggins?" She asked, making sure she was at the right place. The hobbit seemed dubious, not quite knowing what to answer. He had never met this woman in his whole life.

"Yes, that's me," the hobbit confirmed, almost stumbling over his words. "Today has been a rather weird day. Have we met?" He questioned, still skeptical about the person in front of him.

"I'm afraid I haven't had the pleasure yet." Raewyn  clarified. "Tolmiró." She spoke, slightly nodding her head at him. It was the name she had given herself in order to travel Middle-Earth unnoticed. Gandalf had deemed it wise to introduce herself as such to anyone she met. He claimed she could never know who was friend and who was foe by mentioning her true name.

"Is that your name?" Bilbo asked, not fully buying her statement.

"It is what you can call me." Raewyn answered, not revealing more. When a silence struck between the two, the young woman spoke up again.

"Is Gandalf here?" Bilbo's eyes slightly widened at her question.

"You just missed him." The hobbit revealed. "He was here this morning. Claiming that he knew me and that something would be very good for me. He told me he would tell the others." At his last statement, realization became to dawn on him. "Are you part of the others?" He asked almost as if he already knew the answer.

"I fear I am." Raewyn revealed truthfully. "Though I do not know if I was meant to come by today. There won't happen to be any dwarves here, are there?" The woman wondered aloud.

"Dwarves?" Bilbo asked, now even more confused than before they met.

"Yes. About my height, a bit more muscular build. Big beards, lot of braids. Very prideful and selfish. Think they are better than everyone," "Yes, I know what dwarves are, thank you." Bilbo interrupted.

"They're not here." The hobbit explained. When the woman didn't respond to him, he exhaled a little bit too loud.

"Have you eaten yet?" The woman was taken aback by his question, but answered it nonetheless.

"No, but I saw an inn nearby. I will get my meals there."

"I doubt it," the hobbit began, "around this time only drunkards can be found in the Green Dragon Inn. You can stay here for a meal."

Raewyn was surprised at his speech. She knew of the hospitality of hobbits, but did not know they were willing to invite strangers into their homes for a meal. Sure, hobbits ate a lot and therefor had a lot of food, but strangers were not always welcome in the Shire.

She did not dwell on the thought for too long, knowing it would be rude to leave a hobbit without a proper answer.

"That would be nice." She assured, causing the hobbit to step aside, allowing the young woman to step into his home. She lowered her helmet on a small table next to the door, observing the space, which had appeared a lot bigger than from the outside. Bilbo closed the door and wandered to the back of his home.

"Would you like some tea?" He asked from another room. Raewyn placed her holster of arrows next to her helmet before responding to the hobbit with a polite "Yes, please."

She walked into the room the hobbit had vacated, spotting a plate filled with food, and a half eaten fish. "Forgive me," Raewyn started, "I did not know you were eating." She finished, referring to her earlier knocking.

She did not get a vocal response to her apology, but she could see the thankfulness on Bilbo's face. He set a second plate down, opposite of his earlier seat. A warm cup of tea was placed next to it, smelling much better than any tea Raewyn has ever had.

Bilbo sat back down, going back to his dinner. The young woman followed suit and sat on the chair the hobbit had given her. However, the second she sat down, the doorbell rang. She frowned at the hobbit as Bilbo's face went from happiness to malcontent.

"Should I get it?" Raewyn offered, already standing up.

"No, it's fine." Bilbo dismissed, walking back towards the door. A small exchange of words was spoken, before louder footsteps entered the hobbit hole. Raewyn frowned and slowly reached for one of her daggers. When a rather tall dwarf walked into the room, she lowered her hand.

"Is this one of the dwarves you asked about?" Bilbo whispered to her, nearly seeming frightened at the impressive figure.

"I think so." The woman mumbled back.

"You don't know him?" Bilbo asked incredulously.

"To be fair, the only dwarf I've ever met died on the battlefield." She whispered, not daring to look at the large dwarf.

"Are you his spouse?" The dwarf suddenly spoke up. Bilbo suddenly started coughing violently as Raewyn's eyes widened.

"Pardon me?" She asked, almost insulted. However, the second she made eye contact with him, she changed her tone. "I am not. I am here on behalf of Gandalf." She spoke, a new found confidence showing. The dwarf was quiet as Raewyn looked at her meal, which was being slaughtered by the obviously stronger figure.

"You're the hunter then?" At this question, her head shot up, her eyebrows furrowed while her mind kept spinning for answers.

"The hunter?" Raewyn repeated confused.

"Aye," the dwarf spoke, "Gandalf mentioned a hunter joining us on our quest. He forgot to mention that hunter would be female."

At this statement, Raewyn's mouth slacked open. Bilbo carefully took a few steps back, almost afraid of the woman now, instead of the taller dwarf. Her eyes showed disbelief and fury as she pinned one of her daggers onto the wooden table. A yelp was heard from behind her, but she paid no heed.

"What is that supposed to mean?" She asked lowly. The dwarf looked up at her and shook his head.

"I meant no disrespect, lass. We dwarves like to keep our women safe from dangers. Most dangers are found outside." "And therefor you thought I shouldn't hunt?" Raewyn wondered.

"It is unusual for us, is all I'm saying. I'm not telling you you're incapable." He defended, holding his hands up in defense. Raewyn picked her knife back up and holstered it. "If I offend you, I sincerely apologize." He offered.

"The world contains more races than just dwarves." The woman began. "I accept your apology, but I would prefer for you to keep those kind of comments to yourself next time, if you please." She ended.

The dwarf grunted in response as Bilbo walked towards a plate of bread. In a way, Raewyn was glad a dwarf showed up. It eased her thoughts of arriving on the wrong date. Her plate, which had been abducted by the tall dwarf, was now completely empty. A sad frown passed her face but it disappeared as quickly as it came. A bell ring again and three heads shot up.

"That'll be the door." The dwarf spoke, his mouth still filled with food.

Raewyn eyes closed at the sight whilst she turned her head. When her eyes opened again, Bilbo had, yet again, disappeared. She looked around confused, trying to spot the hobbit. When she heard the door open in the distance, she walked into the hall, coming face to face with an older dwarf. Bilbo looked at the woman, as if asking her if she did know this dwarf. Before she could answer his silent question, the older figure let out a laugh and walked inside, passing the girl. She turned her head as she followed him in his movements.

"Evening, brother." The white-haired dwarf spoke.

"By my beard," his brother began, "you're shorter and wider since last we met."

"Wider, not shorter. Sharp enough for the both of us." The two laughed at each other for a few seconds, followed by a silence. Before either Bilbo or Raewyn could speak up, the two dwarves harshly head butted, making Raewyn flinch and Bilbo look away.

"Ouch." The young woman mumbled, subconsciously rubbing her forehead.

"Uhm, excuse me," the hobbit started. The young woman watched as the two dwarves walked into the pantry, causing her to raise her eyebrows in disbelief.

"Sorry. I hate to interrupt. Uh...but the thing is, I'm not entirely sure you're in the right house." Bilbo resumed, following the two other guests. The dwarves completely ignored the small hobbit as they inspected the food.

"It's not that I don't like visitors. I.... I like visitors as much as the next hobbit, but I do like to know them before they come visiting."

"What's this?" The tall dwarf spoke, picking up a block of cheese.

"I don't know. I think it's supposed to be cheese, it's gone blue." Was the response of the older dwarf. Raewyn's mouth slacked open at the rudeness of both of them and was about to interrupt, but Bilbo spoke before she could take her chance.

"The thing is, uhm..." the hobbit tried to resume.

"It's riddled with mold."

"The thing is I don't...I don't know either of you," the cheese was thrown back down, making Bilbo frown and point towards the fallen block. "Not in the slightest. I don't mean to be blunt, but I uh...but I had to speak my mind." The hobbit held his hands up and bowed his head. "I'm sorry."

The last words caused the dwarves to stop what they were doing as they turned their heads to the small creature.

"Apology accepted." The old dwarf spoke kindly. Bilbo did not know how to respond and let out a small "well....".

"Oh, no. Fill it up now, brother, don't stint." The old dwarf now spoke, holding a glass of, what Raewyn could only assume, beer. When Bilbo remained silent, the young woman finally took her opportunity to speak up.

"Now, listen here," she started, but neither of the dwarves responded to her or even showed an interest to her speech. "Hey!" She said, a little louder, snapping her fingers in front of them. Still, none of them responded. They just resumed speaking to each other merrily, ignoring everything around them.

"Shazara!"* Raewyn now nearly shouted, making the two guests stop speaking immediately. Their attention was directed to the young woman.

"Thank you." She said, giving them a nod of acknowledgment. "You can't just barge into someone's house and raid their-" in the midst of her sentence, the doorbell rang again. Raewyn closed her eyes and inhaled deeply, trying to keep calm.

"Would you mind getting that?" Bilbo asked. Raewyn turned her head towards the hobbit, but did not yet open her eyes.

"I fear that if I leave you alone with this lot now, only heads will be leaving this door." He explained. The young woman opened her eyes and formed her lips in a thin line. She didn't form a verbal response to him, but instead gave a short nod of her head.

She walked away from the three, steadying her breathing while she let her hands go of the fists they were holding. When she stood in front of the door, she let out a short breath. She carefully looked behind her, as if checking if she wasn't followed, before opening the door.

Two relatively young looking dwarves stood in front of her now, one of which covered with daggers while the other carried a bow.

"Fili," the blonde one spoke, obviously - and shamelessly - studying the armor Raewyn was wearing.

"And Kili." The second dwarf spoke. Then, both of them bowed while speaking in sync. "At your service."

When they resurfaced, the brown haired looked at the woman confused. "You don't look like a master Boggins." She looked at the floor and rolled her lips.

"Well, you're not wrong."

"No! They can't come in!" Bilbo shouted from the back of the hobbit hole. Raewyn raised her eyebrows and looked back at the young dwarves.

"You've come to the wrong house!" Bilbo spoke again, now walking towards the three at the door. The hobbit shoved the girl out of the way, surprising her with his boldness. He tried shutting the door, but Kili interrupted him by putting his foot between the door.

"What? Has it been canceled?" He asked curiously. Bilbo looked at the two of them through the crack of the door, confused at his question. "No one told us." Fili added.

"Cancel- no, nothing's been canceled." The hobbit explained.

"That's a relief." Kili spoke, opening the door and walking in. Raewyn's eyes narrowed at the behavior of the two, ready to defend Bilbo again. "Why, you-" she started, but again, she was ignored.

"Careful with these." Fili spoke, handing Bilbo a few daggers. "I just had them sharpened."

"It's nice, this place." Kili said, cleaning his feet with the edge of a box. "Did you do it yourself?"

"Uh...no, it's been in the family for years." The hobbit spoke, now wondering where he should lay down the new weapons in his arms.

He looked at the brown haired dwarf before speaking in a defense tone. "That's my mother's glory box, can you please not do that?" Kili ignored his statement and walked towards the blonde dwarf, which Raewyn had assumed to be his brother.

"Fili, Ki­li, come on, give us a hand." The tall dwarf spoke, now entering the room.

"Mister Dwalin." Kili spoke, now reveling the tall dwarf's name to the young woman.

"Let's shove this in the hole, or otherwise we'll never get everyone in." Dwalin spoke, referring to the table which stood in the dining room.

"Ev...everyone?! How many more are there?" Bilbo asked, frowning at Raewyn. He now noticed her defensive stance and wiped away his frown. She was about to walk up to the dwarves, but Bilbo stopped her.

"Tolmiró, please." The hobbit spoke, standing in front of her in order to block her from entering the room the dwarves now vacated. Raewyn looked Bilbo confused.

"You're just going to let them rearrange your home?" She spoke, almost angry at him. "I don't want any violence here." Bilbo explained.

"I just want to talk." Raewyn tried to explain calmly.

"And they will try to fight. You said it yourself. They are selfish beings. They won't listen to you." The hobbit responded, hitting her with harder facts.

"I'll make them listen." Raewyn spoke prideful and certain, but Bilbo stopped her. "Please, you're the only respectful guest here."

The young woman sighed at him, but nodded. "Fine, but if they are bothering you, you should let me know. I'll make them leave." She proposed.

Bilbo nodded at her, now looking at the dwarves behind him, who were rearranging his whole house. The two had barely heard the bell ringing again if it wasn't for Fili pointing it out.

"Oh, no! No, no. There's nobody home!" Bilbo spoke up, walking towards the door, leaving Raewyn standing on her own. "Go away, and bother somebody else! There's far too many dwarves in my dining room as it is."

He looked around for a place to dump the knives in his arms. When he found an empty place on the floor, he mindlessly dropped them.

"If...if this is some blockhead's idea of a joke," he started, laughing sarcastically between his sentences. He reached for the doorknob as he uttered his last necessary words. "I can only say, it is in very poor taste!"

As he opened the door, a pile of dwarves fell into his home, groaning at the impact and shouting at each other. At the sound, Raewyn rushed from the dining room to the hall, thinking something had happened to Bilbo. When she saw the dwarves, she sighed and released her hand, which was holding the holster of one of her daggers.

"Gandalf." Bilbo muttered, obviously not content with meeting the old wizard.

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* : “Silence” in Khuzdul (Dwarvish)

Taglist: @m-sterboggins @errruvande

#starcrossed losers #tolkien #the hobbit #Kili durin #Fili durin #Thorin Oakenshield #the company #the company of thorin oakenshield #Gandalf The grey #Bilbo baggins #kili x raewyn #kili x reader #kili x oc #raewyn asha #Kili imagine #Aidan turner

[forestphantom05]

ATTENTION RINGERS!!!

This is your friendly reminder that while Aragorn was king, he and Arwen had a lake house near the Shire that they would occasionally stay at and visit with Merry, Pippin, and Sam.

Additional friendly reminder! Sometimes Aragorn would bring friends with him, so odds are Legolas and Gimli would have definetly joined him at some point as well.

Also, who’s willing to bet that Faramir, Eowyn, and Eomer got to borrow it at least once or twice as a summer retreat? Cause I sure as hell am!

#lord of the rings #appendix A #lotr #lotr appendix a #the north-kingdom and the dunedain #lake evendim #the shire #king of gondor #aragorn #arwen #merry #pippin #sam #Meriadoc Brandybuck #Peregrin Took #sam gamgee #samwise gamgee #legolas #gimli #faramir #eowyn #eomer #aragorn and arwen #eowyn and faramir #lake house near the shire #arnor #annuminas

[marvelhead17]

The Tale of Eossimar (Original Female Character x Bofur Fic)

Chapter 9

Word Count: 7.8k

Warnings to cover the whole fic: Fake relationships, half-blood children, mild violence, fight scenes, male/male relationships, Dwarf gender concepts, battle of five armies fix-it, pre-battle of five armies, near death incidents, talking to dead people, mentions of paradise/heaven.

As the sun rose that morning, Bofur and the others began to gear up without argument in the dimly lit rooms deep inside Erebor, fixing their braiding to ensure it was tight for the battle to come and securing their armour properly.

Out of habit Bofur scanned over his shoulder for Bilbo, for a moment he had worried but he relaxed when he found him standing with Thorin, he was being handed chain armour. Bofur swallowed as he understood that Thorin was meaning that the poor hobbit was to fight alongside them, even though he had no personal ties to Erebor.

They approached the rampart only to discover that they were faced with hundreds upon hundreds of Elves at their gate, King Thranduil rode confidently on his stag followed closely by Bard on his horse, and they easily passed in the middle of them.

Bofur was amazed by how uniform the soldiers were, as they stepped aside to let their King pass through without even turning their heads, before they fell back into place once again. As the two stopped in front of their armies Thorin raised his bow and arrow in hand, firing a quick warning shot at the feet of Thranduil’s stag.

“I will put the next one between your eyes,” he warned and the company laughed confidently, even Bofur found himself laughing at the sudden surprise in the Elf King’s eyes.

He felt his laughter die as soon as he recalled Nari saying the same threat to Prince Legolas not so long ago and his amusement quickly became dampened.

King Thranduil barely bobbed his head when his troops moved in synchronisation, and all readied their arrows at the dwarves, the company ducked down behind the ridges of the wall in panic, while their leader remained standing as he stared at Thranduil. The dwarves remained silent as they held their breaths, Thranduil raised his hand in the air and his men lowered their weapons.

“We have come to tell you, payment of your debt has been offered, and accepted.” Thranduil informed him, and the members slowly raised their heads over the wall in confusion.

“What payment? I gave you nothing, you have nothing.” He still held his next arrow at the ready.

Thranduil’s brows pricked up and he swept his gaze to Bard on his left briefly, the man dug into his inner coat and pulled out something that glistened in the sunlight, before raising it in the air for them to see it clearly.

“We have this,” Bard said, Thorin’s eyes widened and he lowered his weapon.

“They have the Arkenstone, thieves!” Kíli shouted, “How came you by the heirloom of our house? That belongs to the King!”

“And the King may have it,” he tossed the precious stone in the air playfully as it had no value to him, “With our good will,” and then tucked it back safely in his pocket. “But first, he must honour his word.”

Thorin shook his head as he whispered, “They are taking us for fools. This is a ruse, a filthy lie,” he spoke louder in spite of the dwarves’ disbelief, “The Arkenstone is in this Mountain! It is a trick!”

“It’s no trick, the stone is real, I gave it to them,” Bilbo informed him; the King froze for a moment and then faced the hobbit with a mad look in his eyes.

“You?” he questioned in disbelief.

“I took it as my fourteenth share,” Bilbo blinked several times as he tried to maintain his eye contact.

“You would steal from me?” His voice was harsh as he spoke.

“Steal from you? No, no,” he shook his head, “I may be a burglar, but I like to think I’m an honest one.” He stifled a little laugh through his nose, rocking nervously on the balls of his feet. “I’m willing to let it stand against my claim,”

“Against your claim? Your claim.” He gave Bilbo a mocking smile, “You have no claim over me, you miserable rat!” he threw down the bow and arrow, stepping closer to Bilbo as he did.

“I was going to tell you. Many times I wanted to, but-”

“But what, thief?” he growled.

“You are changed,Thorin.” He spoke sternly, “The dwarf I met in Bag-End would never have gone back on his word, would never have doubted the loyalty of his kin!”

“Do not speak to me of loyalty,” Thorin’s eyes began to well up, and he edged even closer to Bilbo, making Bofur’s heart pound relentlessly. “Throw him from the rampart!” he pointed at him, his eyes roamed over the rest of the group as nobody made to move to the fearful hobbit.

Thorin frowned back at them, grabbing Fíli by his chest plate, “Did you not hear me?!” he yelled and was taken aback when Fíli fought against him and pushed away, stepping back next to Balin. He looked around desperately, and then turned to face Bilbo, “I will do it myself. Curse you!” he seized him and forced him towards the edge of the wall.

Fíli, Bifur and Bofur all reached out in an attempt to rescue the hobbit as he struggled against the King’s grasp. “Cursed be the Wizard that forced you on this company!” he shoved Bilbo against the wall and the hobbit let out a scream.

“If you don’t like my burglar then please, don’t damage him.” Gandalf’s voice boomed over the panic and they all looked down, “Return him to me,” Thorin only stared blankly at the wizard who settled next to Bard and Thranduil, while Bilbo panted anxiously away. “You’re not making a very splendid figure as King under the Mountain are you, Thorin, son of Thráin?”

Thorin released the hobbit from his grasp and he nearly dropped face first into the ground, had it not been for Fíli and Bofur helping him, Bofur took him by the arm and guided him away while the King was distracted.

“Never again will I have dealings with Wizards!”

“Go,” Bofur whispered, encouraging Bilbo to leave with a gentle nudge.

“Or Shire rats!”

Bilbo tossed the rope that was attached to the wall over the edge, hastily climbing over and making a quick escape down the rope.

“Are we resolved, the return of the Arkenstone, for what was promised?” Bard asked, Thorin took uneven breaths as he stared out to the hills on the left, which were empty as far as Bofur could tell. “Give us your answer, will you have peace, or war?”

A raven landed in front of Thorin, cawing away as it eyed him, he faced them and without hesitation said, “I will have war.”

The guard had already bid their families goodbye as the sun shone over the mountain and cast a glow down on them, Callon led them through the tunnel that had once been abandoned and Nari watched as they walked on, she nodded at the more familiar faces that passed her way.

As the last of them went through Nari looked behind to ensure that no villager strayed their way, and she placed the warning sign back down where it had been for many years before, and then followed behind them. She raised her hand to cover her eyes as the sun was much brighter once they reached the opening of the tunnel. They gathered formally and she walked around to stand in front of them, a little surprised by the sheer number that were among them for a small village.

She was about to address them when a shadow flew over her head, she squinted up and raised her arm to let the owl land. She nipped at her owner’s ear and chirped; Nari listened carefully and smiled at Screech, raising her arm to let the owl roam free, and then facing her people once more.

“It’s good to see so many of us are here this morning, in actual fact I’m quite surprised by the number of ye,” some let out a little chuckle, “Those of ye who know of my little pet will know that she often brings me news from the outside, and I’ve just learned that the people of Lake-Town have made settlement within the old City of Dale,” a few people now muttered and she cleared her throat.

“And for many of ye, it was once the home to previous generations of yer families, and for others it was where yer parents were able to make a living from their craft.” They nodded their agreements, “Since there are so many of us, I’d like at least half of ye to go to Dale, the people there have suffered enough grievances these past days and they are essentially defenceless.”

Callon walked up next to his sister, “Now we have no idea what we may be facing out there today, it could be the usual orc scum or something much worse. What we do know is, we must protect the line of Durin so that the Kingdom may be opened and thrive once again. Now who’s with me?” he raised his fist in the air and they cheered enthusiastically.

Nari couldn’t help the grin that grew on her face as she looked to the Eossimarians, she walked down to a familiar face and placed a hand on the elf’s shoulder, and she turned around in surprise, smiling at Nari when she caught sight of her.

“Elanor, I’d like ye to lead the troop to Dale, if ye don’t mind,”

Her mouth fell open slightly, “Are you certain Nari?”

“Very, ye’re our best archer, and a good leader, take the archers and others to Dale,” she nodded, “I know they’ll be safe in yer hands,” she patted her on the arm lightly and smiled, and Elanor returned the gesture, Nari looked around, “I want the archers to follow Elanor, and I’ll need a few who can fight on the ground to go with her as well,” she instructed.

After a few moments of indecision they split into two groups, with Elanor waving her half on to head towards Dale, she gave a final nod to Nari before they vanished into the trees.

“What about the rest of us?”

“We are going to defend Erebor,” Nari moved to brush some low-hanging branches out of the way, “Callon, lead on,” they followed immediately after him as he moved hurriedly, and Nari made sure the last people were through before she ran around to catch up with her brother.

She turned to face the guard while walking backward continuously, “I want ye to be on high alert, look out for each other, ye all have families that want yer safe return. Are we understood?”

“Aye!” they chanted and marched forward steadily upon catching the Mountain in their line of sight.

There was clanking and stomping resonating suddenly on the hills to the left as a new army made an approach to the scene, Dwalin noticed Bofur’s puzzlement and he leaned over, speaking quietly, “Dáin, of the Iron Hills, Thorin’s cousin,” the dwarf nodded in understanding and stared at the army, his cousin Bifur roared triumphantly just behind him with a few other members.

The Elves immediately turned their stance away from Erebor, and marched right on to meet the Dwarven army, before bringing themselves to a standstill as the Dwarves also made their stop behind their leader.

“Good morning, how are we all?” A fiery red headed dwarf, Dáin, Bofur assumed addressed the masses rather sarcastically. “I have a wee proposition, if ye wouldn’t mind giving me a few moments of yer time.” He leaned forward on his war pig, “Would ye consider, just… sodding off?!” he yelled the last words out, unsettling the Men so much that they stepped back in fear.

“All of ye! Right now!” he barked.

“Stand fast!” Bard ordered his men.

“Come now, Lord Dáin,” Gandalf approached the Dwarves through the crowds.

“Gandalf the Grey,” Dáin greeted coldly, “Tell this rabble to leave, or I’ll water the ground with their blood!”

“There is no need for war between Dwarves, Men and Elves,” Gandalf insisted as he moved closer, in hopes of reasoning with the dwarf, “A legion of Orcs march on the Mountain. Stand your army down.”

“I will not stand down before any Elf, not least this faithless Woodland sprite,” he glared as he pointed to the King Thranduil with his large hammer, “He wishes nothing but ill upon my people, if he chooses to stand between me and my kin… I’ll split his pretty head open! See if he’s still smirking then!”

Bofur looked over and confirmed that Thranduil was indeed smirking at the dwarf Lord, the other members cheered on their kin defending them, and Bofur looked to his brother and saw that he too looked uneasy about it all.

“He’s clearly mad, like his cousin,” the elf king responded coolly.

“Ye hear that, lads? We’re on!” Dáin turned around on his pig to face his army, waving his hammer as he moved along, “Let’s give these bastards a good hammering!” His commander gave orders in Khuzdul and the army yelled out their response, raising their weapons to prepare themselves.

A rumbling echoed from underground near another mountain range, the cracking of breaking earth sounded thunderous as the ground burst open, enormous Earth-eaters roared as they crushed the chunks of land in their mouths.

“Oh, come on!” Dáin yelled.

Bofur couldn’t believe his eyes as the worms receded into the ground from whence they came, a horn drew his attention away as his eyes fell upon Azog on top of an abandoned watch tower; his arms were raised as he yelled out his commands and his armies marched forward.

“The hordes of Hell are upon us. To battle! To battle, sons of Durin!” Dáin yelled as he led his army forward to the swells of orcs.

“I’m going over the wall, who’s coming with me?” Fíli asked as he raised his sword in the air.

“Aye!”

“Yes!”

“Come on, let’s go!” Dwalin yelled eagerly.

“Stand down.” Thorin ordered.

“What? Are we to do nothing?” Fíli questioned his Uncle.

“I said, stand down!” he yelled at his nephew, and then he moved down the stairs without looking back at them, Fíli looked over to Balin whose gaze grew anxious as he looked at the dwarves charging forward. “I want all of you inside, now!”

They moved slowly down from the rampart, Bofur decidedly taking his time as best as he could, he stopped when he realised that the Elves had not moved from their position and watched Gandalf move to the Elf King.

“Thranduil, this is madness!” he insisted, as the Dwarves formed a barricade with their shields while the orcs stormed forward without fear.

Their commander announced that their duties were to Erebor and the King, and that they were to hold their positions, the soldiers reaffirmed their pledges with a cry. Bofur swore that he had barely blinked when he realised that the Elven army had used the Dwarves as a ramp to glide over them weightlessly, and even before they landed on the ground had begun slaying some of the orc army down.

The dwarves stood up soon after and the two races fought side by side against the orcs, the figures all swarmed together into one chaotic mess, had it not been for the golden coloured armour it would have been impossible to set the Elves apart from the Dwarves.

“Bofur,” a rough voice called and he cleared his head with a shake, rushing down the stairs quickly, he came to a standstill as he came face to face with Thorin; the King glared daggers at him. “You think I have not seen how distracted you’ve become? Your little friend Nari has left long ago, I would not expect her to be returning any time soon,” he growled.

“It would be best for you not to pursue whatever interests you think you have with her, if you wish to stay in these grounds, am I being clear?”

“A-Aye, Thorin, very,” he swallowed nervously, walking carefully around him to join the others as they gathered further away.

“What was that about?” Bombur asked, Bofur shook his head and avoided looking at him.

“It’s nothing; don’t worry yerself about it,”

Nari and the guard arrived in time to see the Elves and Dwarves merge together in battle, much to her surprise, and she faced her people as she raised her sword in the air. “[For Erebor!]”

“Erebor!” they yelled, and sprinted forward to the battle, they easily blended in amongst the chaos and began aiding in the killing of the orcs with the rest.

Nari and Callon fought side by side, watching each other’s backs and killing off orcs easily as a team, it seemed to be going well so far and yet, something was nagging her in the back of her mind.

Another section of Thranduil’s army moved into position and fired arrows at the orcs to the back on their King’s command; she briefly lost her focus when a horn sounded in the distance; she traced the noise to its origin and spotted Azog standing high above the battle almost cockily. A flag pole changed its signal, and the orc leader belted out his orders, the cries of another army sounded not too far away and they marched in the direction of Dale.

Her brother slayed an orc that had been approaching her from behind and moved to her line of vision, “Good thing ye sent half the guard to Dale,” he remarked and she nodded as she saw the people of Lake-Town back away from the battle slowly.

She hadn’t even realised that they were fighting between all the soldiers, “All of you, fall back to Dale. Now!” Bard ordered and she smiled to herself, knowing he was making good decisions for his people already; she killed a few more orcs and looked over her shoulder every so often to see what was happening near the ruined city.

Giant trolls with catapults strapped to their backsides raced towards Dale, stopping not too far off and launched boulders that crumbled the walls beneath them, and an even larger one with a stone tied down to his head ran straight into a solid wall and fell dead into the ground. The orcs charged into the city as the citizens screamed in terror, and Nari silently thanked Mahal that she had made the right decision by sending some of her people there.

“Ye buggers!” a dwarf cursed behind them as he leaped off of his war pig which had been stabbed, “I’ll show ye!” he used his head to knock down several orcs with ease, attacking with even more fury than he had before, “Where’s Thorin? We need him, where is he?”

She looked at her brother, “Seems the King has become cowardly in the face of war,”

“What do ye mean?” Callon asked as he took down another orc next to him.

“I think they’re all still pent up inside Erebor, I have yet to see any of the company out here,” she kicked down an orc that tried to approach and stabbed it in the back of its head.

“That’s a relief, they’ve not been found then,” he quickly sliced the throat of an orc that snuck up behind him.

“They’ll be trapped if they find a way in though,” Nari informed him.

“Should we go in then?”

“Aye,” she moved forward through the mess and took down a few more orcs as she went along, her brother following closely behind.

Dwalin approached Thorin angrily while he was brooding on his throne. “Since when do we forsake our own people? Thorin, they are dying out there.” But Thorin seemed distracted as his eyes wandered around the room.

“There are halls beneath halls within this Mountain. Places we can fortify… shore up make safe. Yes,” he stood from his throne and reached out to Dwalin as he walked forward a little unsteadily. “Yes, that is it. We must move the gold further underground to safety.”

He turned away to look down to where the gold was down below in the caverns, and Dwalin found that his eyes were tearing up as his anger only grew, he grabbed Thorin by the shoulder.

“Did ye not hear me? Dáin is surrounded. They’re being slaughtered, Thorin.” He stepped back as Thorin searched his face, as if almost looking at a stranger.

“Many die in war, life is cheap. But a treasure such as this, cannot be counted in lives lost,” he waved his friends' concerns away, “It is worth all the blood we can spend.”

Dwalin scoffed, “Ye sit here in these vast halls with a crown upon yer head, and yet ye are lesser now than ye have ever been.”

“Do not speak to me as if I were some lowly Dwarf Lord, as if,” his voice quivered as he spoke, “I were still, Thorin Oakenshield,” his voice cracked as he turned away and he bent over to the side, Dwalin remained at a distance and stepped back when Thorin swung out his sword haphazardly and missed his target. “I am your King!”

“Ye were always my King, ye used to know that once. Ye cannot see what ye have become. Nari was right, ye’re sick Thorin.”

“Go. Get out. Before I kill you.” His voice remained steady as he spoke this time; they locked eyes for a moment before Dwalin walked away in disappointment.

He reached the others and they looked up in hope but Dwalin’s face made it clear to them, “I fear that we’ve lost him for good, he threatened my life.”

“That is not the sign we needed,” Balin shook his head.

“Can’t we do something, anything, to make him see?” Fíli stood.

“No laddie, I’m afraid not,” Balin placed his hand on the young dwarf’s shoulder.

The group sat in silence, staring at the ground as the screams from the battle ensued; Bofur remained on the rampart as he tried to scan the scene to ease the twisting in his gut. He was soon joined by Dwalin and Balin who stood on either side of him, they all nodded at one another.

Kíli pricked his head as he noticed movement ahead of them, he recognised his Uncle’s form and stood up from his spot, the fury boiling in his blood encouraged him to approach Thorin fearlessly.

“I will not hide behind a wall of stone while others fight our battles for us!” he yelled, though Thorin moved forward wordlessly. “It is not in my blood, Thorin.”

“No. It is not,” Thorin agreed, stopping before his nephew, “We are sons of Durin, and Durin’s Folk do not flee from a fight.” He smiled slowly as he met Kíli’s gaze, his lip was twitching beyond his control.

They pressed their foreheads together before Thorin patted him on the shoulder and moved to stand in front of the others, and his nephew raised his fist in success behind his back.

“I have no right to ask this of any of you. But will you follow me, one last time?” he asked them, and they all smiled and raised their weapons wordlessly.

The Eossimarian guard fell in between Dain and his troops, for the Elves had left for Dale, and they now realised that they were severely outnumbered. Dain’s dwarves began chanting in unison and the guard joined in while the orc army began to line up in front of them, even larger orcs made their way to the frontlines with clubs in hand, unmistakably weaponised to clear buildings.

Just as Azog gave the order a trumpet sounded clearly above them, Nari glanced up and saw Bombur blowing into the instrument and felt a laugh bubble up inside with a mix of relief, a bell rang out and she frowned before the enormous object burst through the barricade and collapsed it.

The company emerged from wreckage crying out as they ran directly towards the orcs, and Dain’s army moved aside to let them pass through.

“To the King, to the King!” the dwarf they had seen earlier cried out, rallying his troops forward.

Nari and Callon looked at each other and smiled, before joining in the attack against the orcs and really giving their all as they swung their blades. She managed to get close enough to Thorin in time before they were surrounded.

“Thorin, it’s good to see ye!” she called out and he killed off an orc before turning around to speak with her.

“You came back, after everything I said to you?”

“Course I did, I was keeping my word,”

“Thank you.” He placed a hand on her shoulder, and the two of them bowed their heads briefly before returning to the fight. “Dáin!” Thorin yelled out.

“Thorin! Hold on, I’m coming!” He rode on the backside of an orc while killing others, they hugged for a moment and he frowned for a moment when his eyes landed on Nari, but he decided it wasn’t the time to question it. “Hey Cousin, what took ye so long?”

“Admittedly I was under duress,”

“No matter, there’s too many of these buggers, Thorin,” he gestured around them, “I hope ye’ve got a plan…”

Nari and Callon had drifted further down into the fight, working alongside members of the company as they struggled against what seemed to be an endless wave of the creatures.

“Aye, we’re going to take out their leader.” He stared up to where Azog stood proudly on the old tower.

“Azog?” Dáin’s jaw slackened as he stared wide-eyed at his cousin, who managed to get hold of a war ram and sat confidently.

“I’m going to kill that piece of filth,” he promised, and then rode towards the rocky hillside, taking off the heads of orcs along the path with him.

As if Dwalin, Fíli and Kíli had read their King’s mind, they followed him on their own rams. “Lead on!” Dwalin said as they raced on with speed.

“Callon, let’s go!” Nari called.

“Where?”

“That peak,” she pointed to where Azog stood, “Azog must have planned for every move we’ve made here so far, and I don’t like that they’ll be isolated up there.”

He agreed and they ran on, quickly passing behind Bofur and his brother, Nari took out an orc that had tried to attack Bofur from behind, and the dwarf turned just in time to see her vanish before he could thank or even question her. He grunted as he swung another deadly blow to an enemy.

They ran up the rocky hills as fast as they could on foot, Thorin and the others were already at the top for some time before them and she worried that they may be in danger.

“I’ll bet my life that he’s set something up there.”

“Ye’re probably right, but on a day like this, I would not be wagering my life about as if it were nothing sister,”

“Don’t fret brother, we both know I can take care of myself,” they reached the top and were assaulted by hordes of goblins, and had to fight their way through.

“We must hurry!”

“These goblins won’t kill themselves ye know!” she grunted as she killed off a few more of the creatures.

“Something is wrong, I feel it,” he helped to kill off more of them, and then grabbed her hand and pulled her along after him.

They reached a broken down tower that curved slightly over the frozen river, giving them quicker access across the way if they needed it, Callon climbed further up to get a better view as the area was covered.

“Damn this fog, I can’t see much of anything,”

“Do ye hear that?” she raised a hand to silence him, “Below somewhere… I think reinforcements are coming,”

Callon nodded, reaching behind his back and readying his bow and arrow, slowly raising it to the buildings across the way, “I see the others, but not the princes, and… Bilbo?”

“Bilbo?” She looked passed him curiously, and realised that they were staring across the frozen river to where Azog had stood not long ago.

There was a sudden thumping of drums and the fog dissipated to reveal Azog dragging Fíli by the scruff alongside himself, his feet dangling in the air as the orc leader was much larger than him; Callon stiffened as he raised the prince higher up.

“This one dies first, then the brother.” Azog smirked.

The others stepped forward to the rocky edges nervously as Fíli stared back at them in absolute fear, Callon aimed his arrow at the orc’s weaponised arm, and Nari observed her brother.

“Ye should aim for his head,” she suggested, but Callon disagreed.

“I want him to face a slow death,”

“Then you, Oakenshield… You will die last.” Azog grinned, raising his arm to strike.

“Go!” Fíli yelled to them but Thorin shook his head, “Run!”

“On my life,” Callon whispered as he released his arrow, it whizzed through the air quickly and struck the orc leader in his arm as he had intended.

The orc dropped Fíli with the unexpected attack, and the poor dwarf hit the ground at an awkward angle, causing him to roll towards the edge of the cliff they were on. As he reached the edge his body fell upright, and he managed to reach out and grab hold of the edge to keep himself from plummeting to his death.

Azog backed away, “Finish them,” he ordered, then disappeared from sight, not realising that the dwarf was still clinging on for his life.

The others assessed the area and were surprised to see the siblings already sprinting across the frozen water to the other side, and Thorin called out for his nephews as Kíli roared in outrage, not knowing his brother was still alive as he ran out from his hiding space and made after them. Thorin made no hesitation in chasing after him.

“Thorin,” Dwalin reached out, “Thorin, no!” he ran after his King, leaving Bilbo behind.

Nari worked at fighting off the goblin armies that had now circled the area to let her brother get to Fíli, he bent down on his knee and held his hand out for him.

“Take my hand,” the prince gladly took hold of it and was lifted to his feet, for a moment they seemed to forget the surroundings as their eyes met.

“Cal, a little assistance if ye would be so kind-” she called out and he jerked his head in surprise, before quickly taking out a dagger and handing it to Fíli, who took it with a smile; and they both moved out into the fight to aid Nari.

EEEEEEEEH!

They ducked down for a moment, covering their ears as they looked to the sky which was now filled with hefty bats flying overhead. They passed over the river and swooped over Dwalin and Bilbo who were being swarmed by another goblin army.

She stood up, “I’m going to help them,” she told Callon as she moved away, he gave a quick nod and worked side by side with Fíli at killing the goblins that still tried to attack them. As she darted across the ice she noticed Kíli not too far off, slaying a few orcs on his own but she realised that he would soon be overwhelmed, as the number of orcs never seemed to be wavering no matter how many kills they all made.

Nari jumped in and slayed an orc just as a larger one travelled passed Bilbo, knocking him down with the handle of his weapon, she stabbed another orc in the chest and watched the leading orc disappear, wondering if that was the infamous Bolg of the North, spawn of Azog.

She knelt over the hobbit in concern, and her shoulders slumped as she saw the rise and fall of his chest, “Thank Mahal, brave Master Baggins,” she breathed out.

“Kíli!”

Nari stood on her feet and frowned, somewhat recognising the voice that called his name.

“Kíli!”

It called again and she squinted to where she had last seen the prince.

“Tauriel!” he cried out, making Nari bolt to where their voices came from, only to find Bolg was attacking Tauriel and it seemed she was not winning.

She had no time to try and help the elf-maid as she became surrounded by more enemies herself, leaving her no choice but to defend herself against their constant attacks.

“Ah!” Tauriel grunted as Bolg raised her into the air by the throat, she kicked him swiftly in the gut and he dropped her immediately, only to return the gesture and force her against the wall with a thud.

Kíli leapt out from Nari’s right with his sword raised high into the air, landing promptly on the orc’s shoulders and sinking his weapon down, just missing his head by a whisker as the orc raised his own to block the attack. He launched Kíli over his head and into the nearby stone stairs, with a grunt the prince was on his feet again, and he charged at the orc; both went at each other relentlessly evading and striking where they could.

Nari finished off the hordes on her side and soared down, just at the orc held Kíli in place to strike him in the chest, with her dagger already drawn she came down on his exposed backside and Bolg dropped Kíli as he staggered sideways and distracting him from his kill; she buried it deep into his shoulder and neck as she was also thrown off her target.

Tauriel screamed as she grabbed the orc’s arm, making him lose grip of his sword, Nari hopped off and stood on the ground as Tauriel then rushed over to Kíli. Bolg reached down for his sword and faced Nari with a grunt; her breathing was heavy as she addressed the orc.

“I will see yer head mounted as a trophy before ye lay another hand on him,” the orc grinned, raising his sword and charging at her, she ducked as he narrowly missed her head. “Kíli, Tauriel, go!” she insisted, drawing her sword and facing the orc as the elf-maid struggled to help Kíli to his feet.

She managed to stab him in the leg and avoided another attack, moving further away from the two, “Are ye deaf?” she asked as she saw them watching her, “Run!” They seemed startled by her words and moved along as quickly as they could; it seemed that he had been disorientated from his fight against Bolg.

In her moment of distraction she had barely faced the orc when her head struck against something hard, causing her to gasp out and close her eyes for a second, when she opened them she froze in place, and Bolg’s sword impaled her torso firmly. She choked as she glanced down, the sword holding her in place against the stone; she looked over to the stairs and knew they were headed to safety.

Nari’s ears were ringing with the deafening scream that escaped her as the orc leaned over her and pressed the blade further in, but she fought against every nerve in her body telling her to give in, instead focusing on the heat that she felt coursing through her. Something in the back of her mind told her to grab Bolg by the wrists and she clasped them firmly, holding her gaze as he leaned back in surprise; the heat centred to her palms and a horrible odour wafted to her nose.

Bolg jerked back roaring in agony, taking his weapon with him and stepping backwards, and Nari gasped as she collapsed onto the ground, she closed her eyes for a moment as she pressed her burning hands into the bleeding wound, tears falling out her eyes as the skin seemed to bubble and scorch under the pressure. She opened her eyes glancing above her, and saw Kíli peering over the edge and then a hand swiftly pulling him away; she struggled to turn her attention back to Bolg.

Her vision started growing dark, but there was one last relief as she saw her brother approaching the orc, her breathing was shaky as Fíli leaned over her, and she watched as his mouth moved but she could not hear what he was saying.

His hands touched her shoulders to get her attention back on him as her head rolled back and her eyes seemed to glaze over steadily, he moved the lower edge of her tunic to examine her wound and frowned deeply as he saw the damage done by a sword, but also burned flesh that seemed to seal it somehow. Despite this, there was still a lot of blood slowly pooling underneath her, and he discovered the smaller opening on her backside.

“Nari, can you hear me?” he asked in concern, she met his eyes with a blank stare as her head rolled heavily.

She whispered hoarsely, “Keep my Callon safe for me,”

“Don’t you talk like that, you’ll be alright,” Fíli insisted, taking her hand and squeezing it hard, at least she assumed as she couldn’t feel her fingers; there was a grunt not far off as Bolg fell to his knees, and Callon removed the dagger from the orc’s head with satisfaction. “He’s right here Nari, right here,”

Her brother kneeled down next to Fíli, “Sister- what happened?” his eyes widened as he looked her over, her breathing was becoming even slower and her eyes barely remained open.

“Thorin… Kíli,” she mumbled out before her eyes shut, and she fell into the darkness; Fíli pressed his ear to her chest and heard her heart beat sluggishly.

“Nari?” Callon’s voice broke as he spoke her name.

“She is still with us,” Fíli assured him and Callon let out a shaky breath as a tear fell across his cheek, “I’ll stay with her, go find them,” he insisted, Callon nodded and took one last uncertain look at his sister as he left them.

He did not venture too far when he found Tauriel sitting with Kíli on a rock, “Thank Mahal, ye’re alive Kíli!”

“Is she alright?” Kíli spoke heavily, as if he had a lump in his throat.

“For now,” he bowed his head slightly, ignoring the burning of his eyes, “Where is Thorin?” he asked.

“Azog.” Kíli whispered and shot to his feet, he walked passed Callon who then followed him; they stood on another wall above the others and saw Dwalin down below battling some orcs.

They moved hurriedly when they saw more heading his way until they stumbled upon Bilbo laying between rubble, Kíli leaned over the hobbit immediately and gave him a once over, he moved back when Bilbo’s eyes suddenly flicked open and he stared at the skies above.

“The Eagles… they’ve come,” he said almost dreamily; Callon and Kíli both glanced up and realised that he wasn’t imagining things, the prince then helped Bilbo to his feet.

Callon ran over to aid Dwalin in his burst of hope, Kíli joined them and Bilbo did his best at fighting at a distance by throwing rocks at the assailants as they approached them, Dwalin moved further up the frozen river to kill off the smaller troop, and with the Eagles now helping their side the numbers seemed to begin to dwindle and as they killed the last of their enemies they could finally rest for a moment.

Callon breathed deeply, still feeling uncertain that all was right, and his eyes landed on Thorin who stood facing Azog on the ice just across from them.

The King picked up the stone that had slammed in front of him seconds ago, quickly tossing it over to Azog who caught it in his grasp, Thorin stepped back carefully as he kept his eyes on the orc, the cracked ice underneath Azog’s feet tilted into the air. He dropped the stone next to him and it slid into the water, it dragged the chain still attached and pulled the pale orc down with it despite his screams, and he slipped underneath the ice.

Silence.

“He’s done it,” Callon muttered, “He’s done it!” he cheered as he looked at the others; they smiled in relief before laughing.

He frowned when Thorin walked slowly along the ice, looking down with a wary gaze at something below, and his blade still firmly held in his hand. Callon started as the King cried out suddenly, the tip of a blade piercing through his foot from underneath, it vanished and Azog erupted out with a roar.

They all froze as he swung his sword at Thorin, knocking him down onto his backside, he was barely able to deflect the pale orc’s tireless blows against him; he stabbed his sword down and Thorin was lucky enough to raise his sword across his chest in time to protect himself.

Callon reached behind himself to retrieve his bow and arrow, aiming it at the Orc leader’s head, Kíli swallowed nervously and glanced down to Bilbo, only to find the hobbit had disappeared entirely.

The unique fork in Azog’s weapon was now the only thing keeping him from death, he grunted as the orc forced his sword further down upon him; it was a breath away from his heart now.

Callon shot his arrow and cursed as it moved off course with the breeze, hitting the orc in the shoulder and distracting him from his task at hand for a moment, he snorted at them and pushed his sword further down. It pricked Thorin’s chest and the dwarf King yelled out, Azog smirked with satisfaction and made to push further, when out of thin air Bilbo leapt down onto his backside; he plunged his little sword deep into the neck of the orc, Azog staggered to the side, giving Bilbo the opportunity to hop off.

The sword remained in his neck as he collapsed onto the ice with a final grunt, and Thorin, having gotten to his feet in seconds, grabbed the hobbit by the shoulders, moving them both away in fear. Callon lowered his bow and nodded at Bilbo, though he seemed too shaken to respond in the moment.

Kíli heard Dwalin shouting incoherently about an orc as he approached them at speed, he frowned and tried to ask him to be clear when there was a loud thud next to him, he turned to see Callon laying on the icy ground unconscious, a small boulder planted next to him that had not been there earlier and he quickly grabbed the bow and an arrow from the dwarf.

He scanned the area just behind them and spotted his target, one orc that was preparing to throw another stone, he swiftly shot him dead and kept his eyes peeled for any more signs of movement; he threw down the weapon and kneeled down to examine the injury to Callon’s head. He was bleeding a bit from the roughness of the stone, but seemed otherwise unharmed, Kíli moved his hand in front of Callon’s face and felt the warm breath against it.

He looked across the river and saw that Azog’s body lay still, his black blood seeping into the icy water, Thorin was leaning over him and then he walked away, Bilbo took to his side; he put an arm over the hobbit’s shoulder and held him tightly, Bilbo chuckled a little nervously until he saw the others.

They approached worriedly and Kíli spoke to his uncle, “He’s still breathing, only just, I think,”

Dwalin was panting loudly as he finally reached them, his exhaustion was evident as he approached tiredly, and his eyes welled up as he inspected Callon.

“Is he-?”

“What’s happened here?” Fíli’s voice spoke softer than usual and they diverted their attention to him, he carried Nari in his arms and she hung limply, still unconscious.

“He’s alive,” Kíli assured him.

“Mahal,” Dwalin whispered when his eyes fell onto Nari and darted back to Callon.

“She’s worse for wear I admit, but she’s fighting,” Fíli promised him.

“We must get them to the healers, quickly,” Thorin ordered, the princes agreed and Kíli moved to lift Callon from the ground but Dwalin raised a hand to stop him, picking his nephew up into his arms instead.

Once they were ready they moved down along the old paths as fast as they could, at some point along the way Kíli had taken Nari from his brother as his arms grew tired, and they continued without much fuss. Tauriel fell in step behind them, not wanting to invade in what felt like a very personal matter to the dwarves. A sense of guilt overwhelmed her as she registered that Nari had saved Kíli, and she swallowed the lump in her throat down at the concept of a life without him.

Thorin was the first to break the long silence they had fallen into, “Azog is finally dead, had it not been for these two… it could’ve been all of us,” his nephews only looked at him, “I was foolish for sending you there alone, it was clearly a trap, I hope you can forgive me, my nephews,”

“Of course Uncle,” they said together.

“You couldn’t have known Thorin, you know that.” Bilbo placed a hand on his friend’s shoulder.

“Aye,” Dwalin agreed, “We were ambushed and outnumbered by the bastards,” he gritted his teeth angrily.

To their relief the battle seemed to have ended, the Eagles flew away as the sun started to dip into the horizon, and they arrived at a gathering of those who had survived. Dwarves from the Iron Hills and the company, among the guards of Eossimar, were all mixed together; some were already tending to the injuries of their comrades, while others sat in silence as they mourned their losses.

From the left they saw more of the guard come out from the direction of Dale, with a large man walking somewhat alongside them, when Thorin met his gaze he bowed his head as a gesture of thanks, and Beorn returned it.

Bofur had just finished covering his brother’s leg wound when he looked around and saw Thorin and the others making their return, at first he was relieved as he stood up and made his way to them, but his smile faded as he saw how sombre they were. His eyes hovered over them and his heart pounded heavily in his chest as he saw Nari being carried in Kíli’s arms, he felt the air in his chest leave and he couldn’t breathe as they stilled in front of them.

Thorin waved Óin over to them and he examined them immediately, Bofur’s knees felt as though they were about to crumple under the sudden weight he felt as watched the healer look them over, a hand clapping down on his shoulder startled him and he turned to see Bombur trying to comfort him.

____________________________________________________________

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#bofur the dwarf #the hobbit bofur #bofur x oc #the tale of eossimar (bofur x oc) #the hobbit #battle of five armies fix-it #nariel #thranduil #tauriel #legolas greenleaf #kili the hobbit #fili the hobbit #thorin oakenshield #callon #dwalin the hobbit #balin the hobbit #dori #nori #ori #bifur #bofur #bombur #kalin #bilbo baggins #fanfiction #fanfic #writing

[kmomof4]

The Swan

Originally from this post that @winterbythesea​ shared with me. 

ao3 link  Tagging my peeps: @hollyethecurious @winterbaby89 @snowbellewells @stahlop @resident-of-storybrooke @jennjenn615 @kingofmyheart14 @profdanglaisstuff @branlovestowrite @thisonesatellite @ultraluckycatnd @flslp87 @whimsicallyenchantedrose @let-it-raines @shireness-says @kymbersmith-90 @darkcolinodonorgasm @bethacaciakay @searchingwardrobes @ilovemesomekillianjones @teamhook @aprilqueen84 @qualitycoffeethings @superchocovian @artistic-writer @donteattheappleshook @doodlelolly0910 @seriouslyhooked @tiganasummertree @lfh1226-linda @nikkiemms @xsajx @klynn-stormz

Please let me know if you’d like to be added or removed.

Unbetaed, so all mistakes are mine.

Under the cut, unless Tumblr ate it.

Emma Cassidy stood on the shore of the small lake near her home. She watched the swans and other waterfowl and released a melancholy sigh as she tossed scraps of bread onto the surface of the water. One of the swans, a magnificent creature with eyes blue as the sea, came near, showing absolutely no interest in the food she brought.

The intensity of his stare caused a shiver to run down her spine. As her eyes met his, she was suddenly able to hear a melodious chuckle in her head.

“Why don’t you come and swim with us, lass?” The accented voice seemed to wrap itself around her heart, making her breath catch. “You always sigh so wistfully to see us on the water, and you would be most welcome to join our company, for you have always been a true friend to our kind.”

“I can’t swim,” she replied.

“We can teach you,” he cajoled.

“No, I mean, I really can’t swim,” she insisted, “My husband has stolen my feathers and if I were to try and swim, I’d surely drown.”

The swan’s eyes turned from sky blue to blood red. “Your husband WHAT?” The furious squawking in her head was nearly enough to make her cover her ears, as useless as that would have been against the onslaught.

“Many years ago, I foolishly left my feathers on the shore as I enjoyed a midnight stroll. When I came back, they were gone. I’ve been bound to him ever since.” Her sigh seemed to come from the very bottom of her soul.

She looked back into the swan’s eyes. They were blue again and seemed to twinkle with barely suppressed glee. “You leave him to me. Do you know where he keeps them?”

She nodded. “In a locked chest in his study. He keeps the key on a necklace that he never takes off.”

“Tomorrow, you will swim with us, lass,” he promised. Hope that she had never known swelled in her chest at his words.

“My name is Emma,” she introduced herself.

“Killian,” he replied. “I’ll see you tomorrow, love.”

She turned away from him and started home.

~*~*~

Neal Cassidy came down the stairs, dressed and ready for work. “What the hell is that?” he asked, looking out the front window.

Emma was in the kitchen pouring her husband’s coffee into his travel mug, trying to suppress her smile. She knew exactly what her husband was seeing out their front window, for she had seen it as well.

Swans. Probably about a hundred of them covered her front lawn.

She heard the front door open and her husband start hollering at the birds.

“Go on, get out of here.”

She came to the front window to see him waving his arms at the army of swans, trying to scare them off. She watched as the blood drained from his face as the mass of birds, red eyes blazing, moved as one toward him. Realizing that the front door stood open, she ran for it, determined to prevent his escape back into the house. Slamming it shut and locking it, she looked back out through the side windows to see Neal, terror in his eyes, make it to the door and begin beating on it, the pounding punctuated by his screams. The swans descended and dragged him back out to the lawn where she watched as her husband disappeared under a mountain of white.

Emma couldn’t tear her eyes away from the macabre scene. But she also felt no sympathy for the man that had held her captive for so many years. Long minutes later, Killian came toward her house, the sunlight glinting off a key that he held in his beak.

She opened the door to him as the other swans took to the sky, no trace of her husband left behind on the grass. She took the key from him and he almost seemed to smirk at her as he followed her into her husband’s study. She opened the chest and found her feathers, dusty but intact, within. Picking them up reverently, she turned to Killian.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

“Tis no trouble at all, lass,” he replied. “Are you ready to come swim with us now?”

A bright smile broke her face. “I believe I am.” She stepped into her feathers and felt them meld to her form. She and Killian walked back to the front door, took off into the morning sun, and came down again in the nearby lake, where she was warmly received by the other birds.

And so we come to the end of our tale where Emma and Neal Cassidy were never seen or heard from again, but for very different reasons.  

Thanks for reading and letting me know what you think!

#cs ff #the swan #krystal writes #prompt fic #svenja

[sunnyrosewritesstuff]

Day 2 Hobbit Plot Bunnies

Title: A Hobbit’s Tale: Reclaiming One’s Home

Summary:  Role Reversal AU. Prince Bilbo Baggins, formerly of the Shire, has never really had a purpose amongst his people other than to stir up trouble for the displaced hobbits. Therefore, when Gandalf approaches him with a plan to retake the West, Bilbo is willing to do whatever it takes, even team up with a band of dwarven blacksmiths disguised as warriors to take down the Goblin King.

POV: Switches between Bilbo and Thorin

It was a dark and stormy night as a small figure fought his way to a run-down inn in Esgaroth. He tugged his cloak tighter to his person as he pushed his way through the Big People around him to claim a small table near the back. Being so close to Erebor, none of the men took notice of the figure half their size. Once he was settled in with a piping hot plate before him did Bilbo Baggins-Took, exiled Prince of the Shire, pull back his hood.

He could feel the stares even more so now that he revealed that he wasn’t in fact a dwarf. Halfing, Shire-folk. The whispers floated just on the edge of his enhanced hearing, and under the table he readjusted the grip on his long knife. He didn’t really expect anything to happen, but he also knew to be cautious.

Bilbo was able to finish his meal in peace, and pulled out his pipe as he continued to wait on his purpose in coming to this Yavanna-forsaken lake town. He had just lit the bowl and took a couple of deep puffs when a figure in a long gray cloak and equally big hat stopped before his table. He looked up, but the lighting and angle hid the man’s face.

“Good evening.” He greeted with a curt nod.

“What do you mean? Do you wish me a good evening, or mean that it is a good evening whether I want it or not; or that you feel good this evening; or that it is a evening to be good on?”

Bilbo heaved a sigh of relief. “Gandalf.”

The old wizard gave a deep chuckle as he threw his head back, his eyes twinkling in delight.

“Hello, my dear friend.”

“I was beginning to think you had forgotten about me.” Bilbo complained, trying to hide the meek smile around his pipe stem.

“Misplaced in my memories, surely. But never forgotten.” Gandalf affirmed as he sat down across from Bilbo. “Now, what exactly have you done this time to get yourself kicked out of the New Shire?”

“No, no. That’s not what happened.” Bilbo was quick to dispute. “I saw an opportunity to help my fellow hobbits, and I took it. This...is an adventure, not a sentencing.”

Gandalf merely raised an unimpressed eyebrow. Bilbo held the staredown before he groaned releasing a cloud of smoke.

“And perhaps...I did get carried away when I said the Brown Lands would be more green if the men there would just give us control and keep their smelly booted feet off the land and their long noses out of our arses.”

Gandalf chuckled. “Fortinbras didn’t think that was very clever?”

“Oh, my cousin didn’t have much of a problem with it. I dare say the village chief we were negotiating with was ready to strike me down where I stood.”

Gandalf hummed in agreement and part amusement. Bilbo let the silence fester between them long enough for another draw on his pipe before he spoke again, more reverently.

“I know I don’t make it easier on Fortinbras or the rest of my family, but my pride as a Took and as a hobbit is all I have left, Gandalf. I can’t believe they sent me away to get rid of me, and maybe a small part of me thinks…”

Bilbo trailed off staring at the grain in the wood of the table between them.

“Yes?” Gandalf prompted the smaller fellow.

Bilbo shook his head, and the hesitancy in his eyes moments ago was replaced with steely determination.

“The hobbits will return to Eriador. Even if I have to stand alone before the Goblin King himself. I will have my kin living again in the quiet burrows of the Farthings.”

Gandalf gave the hobbit prince a soft look. “The bravery of hobbits will never cease to amaze me. Or perhaps, it is your mother’s legacy I see shining in you, rather than your people as a whole.”

Bilbo felt himself blush as he always did when Gandalf compared him to his mother. 

“Which is why, I do not hesitate to give you this: the last possession she left in my care.”

Bilbo raised an eyebrow as he finished off his pipeweed and tucked the wooden heirloom away for another day. He reached across the table to take the folded parchment Gandalf threw down between them. His eyes raked over the map in awe when he realized what it was he had before him.

“Gandalf, this is a map to…”

“Yes.” Gandalf nodded putting his hand over Bilbo’s much smaller one. “And if we are careful and clever, I dare say with this we can see your dream fulfilled.”

Bilbo’s eyes filled up with tears as he shook his head mutely.

“I don’t...I don’t know what to say.”

“Keep it secret. Keep it safe. And while I think it is a fine plan of foolishness to march into your enemies hold outnumbered nearly ten thousand to one, I thought if you wouldn’t mind the company, I have an idea for some hired help.”

“Who?” Bilbo questioned.

“A company of soldiers I’m well acquainted with conveniently located in Erebor.”

***

Thorin had it in his head from the morning he woke up, that it was going to be a perfectly normal day. He had a couple of orders to finish up for cookware from one of the widows in Dale and an axe for Gloin’s son he thought he would begin. He planned to take Fili and Kili out to the edge of Mirkwood on that hunting trip he had been promising for so long. May catch up with Balin and Dwalin over a pint of ale in the tavern later that evening. There was certainly nothing that seemed to suggest he would earn a visit from Tharkun, bringer of grey moods, and yet a couple of hours into his forge, that’s precisely who showed up.

Thorin barely glanced up from the hot metal he was beating into shape, trying to resist the urge to roll his eyes. Most would recognize he was busy, and wait for him at the front of the shop. Not the old wizard it seemed.

“Well, if it isn’t the disturber of peace himself.” He greeted gruffly, his eyes never leaving his work.

“Now, now, Thorin. Is that any way to greet old friends?”

“I wasn’t aware that’s what we were.” Thorin raised an eyebrow at him.

“Well, old friends of your father.” Gandalf was quick to correct.

Thorin huffed a bitter laugh. “Yes, friends. Tell me, is it common to leave all of your friends to the mercy of orcs?”

“That was not my doing, Thorin Oakenshield, but that of your king.” Gandalf remarked gravely.

That, Thorin knew all too well. He grunted before plunging the skillet into the basin of water watching the rapidly cooling metal for imperfections. When he finally deemed it well enough, he pulled it back out and set it to the side before giving Gandalf his full attention.

“What do you want?”

“I’m on a recruiting mission for an old friend. You see, he’s a long way from home and in need of an escort to get over the Misty Mountains.”

Thorin shook his head with a chuckle. “Your friend sounds like a fool. No one steps foot west of the Misty Mountains anymore. Besides, I’m a blacksmith, not a warrior.”

“That’s not entirely true. There are still some settlements to the west out of goblin hands, and I’m sure my friend will accept any help freely given even if that comes with a little rust here and there.”

Thorin resisted the urge to rub a hand down his face and instead scratched at the bottom of his shortened beard.

“Perhaps I’m not making myself plain enough, friend. I will not be coerced into another farfetched scheme of yours. Now away with you, I have better uses for my time than to argue it away.”

“At least hear him out. You may find yourself empathetic.”

“I sincerely doubt it.”

Thorin crossed his arms at that point, refusing to budge on the issue. Gandalf gave him a calculating look before shaking his head as if in disappointment. Thorin was not swayed.

“You’ve changed Thorin Oakenshield, and not entirely for the better. Very well, I will rid you of my company. Good luck to you in your smithing endeavors.”

Thorin merely gave him a nod watching him pass through the settlement on his way to Dale before returning to his work. Dwalin gave him a look, but Thorin shook it away. Seeing Gandalf again brought up dark memories, but nothing that he hadn’t made peace with. He was happy. His family, well what was left of it, was happy. Even if their houses now existed on the outskirts of the mountain rather inside her warmth. This was his life now, and he wasn’t about to jeopardize it for another fullhardy attempt against the goblins.

The rest of the day passed much in how he was expecting it to go. Dis noticed his mood and tried to pry the worries from his mind, but he assured her he was fine. He met the brothers Lin down at the bar, and after his second beer he had nearly forgotten his exchange with Gandalf. That’s when he appeared.

“Will you look at that?” Balin marveled, his voice low.

Thorin and Dwalin were both facing the older dwarf, and therefore couldn’t see what had captured his attention. They both turned in their seats before their jaws dropped in much the same open awe as most of the patrons. It was a halfling. Obvious by the large feet containing bronze curls, and the pointed leaf-shaped ears hidden in hair equally fair. He walked with a pompous air of someone not swayed by the staring and whispers happening around him. He paused for only a moment before squaring his shoulders and marching right up to Bombur who had stopped cleaning the glass in his hand subconsciously as the creature eased its way forward.

“Have you ever seen a halfling before?” Dwalin murmured.

“Nay.” Balin denied with a shake of his head. “Father said he had once before the Fall of the Shire. He said the land used to be beautiful, rich in food the way Erebor is rich in gold.”

The halfling had quick words with Bombur but spun around towards them as if he somehow heard Balin’s soft words. He said something to Bombur with a nod of his head before making his way towards their table. The whole time, Thorin couldn’t take his eyes off him. No dwarf there really could. Thorin fought the urge to smooth down his hair as he set his beer back on the table. The hobbit came right up to him and gave a bow of his head.

“Thorin, son of Thrain?” He questioned.

Thorin only blinked in shock that this near ethereal being with a musical lithe in his voice sought him out. Dwalin gave him a kick with his boot which managed to wake him up enough to answer with a gruff ‘aye’.

“Bilbo Baggins, at your service.” He stated holding out his hand.

Thorin merely stared at it numbly, and for the first time the halfling seemed to lose some of his confidence.

“That is...was I wrong to assume that is a traditional dwarven greeting?”

“Uh, no. Thorin, son of Thrain at yours and your family.” He returned shaking the smaller, softer hand.

Bilbo nodded, regaining the cool detachment once more. 

“Very good. I assume these are your companions?”

“Dwalin, son of Fundin, at your service.” Thorin’s friend eagerly answered shaking the halfling’s hand as well.

“Well met, Dwalin.”

“Balin, son of Fundin, at your service.” Balin picked up after Dwalin.

“Well met, Balin.” Bilbo shook his hand as well. “May I?” He asked indicating the spot next to him.

“Please, Mister Baggins. Can we order you anything?” Balin took over with pleasantries.

“No thank you. I like to keep my wits about me when conducting business.” The odd being was quick to brush off, his jade eyes piercing Thorin.

“Business? With me?” Thorin smirked.

What could an average dwarven blacksmith have to offer a wandering halfling? The little creature bristled in confusion.

“Yes, Gandalf told me you were made aware of this meeting. Is something the matter?”

All of Thorin’s good mood vanished in an instant. 

“You’re Gandalf’s friend.” He accused.

“I hope you are quicker with a blade than you are in a conversation, Mister Thorin or this will be a poor venture indeed. Yes, Gandalf, the man who spoke with you earlier sent me here as was scheduled. Or was I too late to catch you before you were knee deep into your spirits, and the drink had addled your mind?”

Thorin glared at the fiery being wondering what he wanted to be most insulted by: the soft creature’s barbed words or his relation with Gandalf.

#7 days of plot bunnies #birthdayplotbunnies #starterdrabble #bagginshield #thilbo #it's amazing how little I had to adjust their characters #if this reminds you of a certain disney movie its only partially on purpose

[cinema-tv-etc]

Why The Godfather Part III has been unfairly demonized

By Caryn James1st December 2020

he mafia trilogy ended with a closing chapter that has long been vilified. But as a new recut is released, 30 years on, Caryn James says it deserves to be re-evaluated. T

The final part of the Godfather trilogy is considered such an artistic disaster that you'd think Francis Ford Coppola had forgotten how to make a film in the 16 years that followed The Godfather Part II (1974). Part III's most famous dialogue – Al Pacino as the aging Mafia don Michael Corleone snarls, "Just when I thought I was out, they pull me back in" – has become an easy laugh line.

But 30 years after its release, it is time to rescue Godfather III from its terrible reputation. Pacino's eloquent, fiery, knowing central performance is supported by several bravura set pieces that are mini-masterpieces in themselves. With deliberate echoes of the earlier Godfather films, there is singing and dancing at a family party, a bold murder during the San Gennaro street festival, a tragedy on the steps of an opera house in Sicily.

In the film’s confusing main plot, Michael gets tangled up in dealing with the Vatican  

Hindsight alone would tell us how seriously the film has been undervalued, even without Coppola's newly restored, re-edited and renamed version. It now has the title Mario Puzo's The Godfather, Coda: The Death of Michael Corleone. Calling it a coda emphasises its connection to the earlier instalments, and even hints at its lesser stature. And the word 'death' signals its dark inevitability, although the meaning of that word is slipperier than it first appears.

Twelve minutes shorter, it rearranges some key episodes, eliminates a few minor scenes and trims a line here or there. But until its altered ending, it is fundamentally the same film, better in parts than as a whole. It is too flawed to come close to the accomplishments of The Godfather (1972) or its sequel, both among the most towering and influential films of the 20th Century. They have penetrated the culture, from their language ("I'm going to make him an offer he can't refuse") to their quintessentially American story of immigration and upward mobility. But the new version clarifies Coppola's epic vision, revealing how much the Corleone story was always Michael's, a deeply moral saga of guilt and redemption. He just happened to be a mob boss.

For me the tragedy of The Godfather, which is the tragedy of America, is about Michael Corleone – Francis Ford Coppola

Coppola was always lucid about the trilogy's vision, even when others were confused. "For me the tragedy of The Godfather, which is the tragedy of America, is about Michael Corleone," he says in the extras on a DVD set of the three films released in 2001. He wanted The Death of Michael Corleone to be the title back in 1990, but Paramount, the studio releasing it, did not. The film's initial reception was measured disappointment, not dismissal or horror as we now assume. Roger Ebert actually loved it. Pauline Kael did not love or hate it, but offered the withering, condescending assessment. "I don't think it's going to be a public humiliation." Expectations were high because of the legacy of the earlier films, yet low because Part III came with a whiff of desperation and of selling out. Coppola had resisted making another Godfather for years, then wrote the screenplay (with Mario Puzo) and edited it in a rush to meet its Christmas Day release. It even got seven Oscar nominations, including best picture and director. It is an odd example of a movie whose reputation has declined over the decades.

Why the film is misunderstood

Then and now, the series has largely been misunderstood. Crime movies like Coppola's and Martin Scorsese's are so seductive that audiences have embraced them for apparently glamorising the love of raw power and the concept of honour among thieves. Beneath the Mafia-friendly surface, though, they are built on ethical themes their more hot-headed characters don't grasp. The Godfather Coda tells us that crime really doesn't pay when you're ready to search your soul. The young Michael struggles with the idea of killing and crime in the first Godfather. The consequences of his decision are central to Part III, which takes place in 1979, 20 years after the events of Godfather II. Michael, a billionaire living in New York, has made his businesses legitimate and is left to grapple with his guilt for so many crimes, especially ordering the murder of his  brother Fredo, who betrayed him.

The film still has problems that no amount of editing can change. In a needlessly confusing main plot, Michael tries to take over a European conglomerate called International Immobiliare. By buying the Vatican's shares, he'll be bailing out the corrupt Vatican bank. The family part of the story revolves around Michael's nephew, Vincent Mancini, the illegitimate son of his brother Sonny. Andy Garcia is as good a Vincent as you could hope for, handsome, swaggering, rough around the edges, dynamic on screen. But his character never makes much sense. Vincent has his father's explosive temper and appetite for violence, but somehow goes from a not-so-bright thug to a shrewd, controlled crime strategist in a matter of months. His change is far from the engrossing, methodical character trajectory that takes the young Michael from idealist to murderer in the first Godfather.

And the film's most severely criticised element is no better than anyone remembers. Winona Ryder, who had been set to play Michael's daughter, Mary, dropped out weeks before filming started and was replaced with unabashed nepotism by Coppola's teenaged daughter, Sofia. Today, we know Sofia Coppola as a brilliant director, but it's easy to see why her amateurish performance made her another target of Godfather III jokes, particularly for the unintentionally awkward and passionless romance between Mary and her cousin Vincent. Coppola actually snipped a couple of Sofia's lines in the new version.

He makes a major change at the start of the re-edited film, eliminating the lovely original beginning. It set an elegiac tone by showing images of the abandoned family house in Lake Tahoe from Part II, and includes a flashback to Fredo's death, while Nino Rota's familiar soundtrack music evokes the past. The new version begins with a duplicitous archbishop soliciting Michael's help for the Vatican, a scene originally placed later in the film. The change highlights the finance plot without making it any clearer.  

The exhilarating start

But the film soon picks up with its true, exhilarating beginning. Several generations of Corleones, along with friends and business associates, gather at a party celebrating Michael. His sister, Connie, sings an Italian song, while shady-looking visitors pay homage to Michael in his office. He now has bristly grey hair and a lined face, and controls his family and business with authoritarian power. The extravagant 30-minute sequence echoes Connie's wedding at the start of The Godfather, and the First Communion party in Lake Tahoe that began Godfather II. Michael's office even has the same light slanting through the blinds that we saw in his father's office in the first Godfather, when Marlon Brando as Vito Corleone received visitors. Throughout, these call backs to the previous films add resonance while trenchantly revealing how things have changed.  Michael is burdened by conscience in a way Vito never was. "I don't apologise," Vito tells Michael near the end of The Godfather, justifying his brutality because he was trying to save his family. Godfather III is all about Michael's need to atone.  

Al Pacino's performance may have become an object of derision, but he knows what he's doing.

The party scene flows easily as it brings every character up to date. Diane Keaton is as deft as ever as Michael's ex-wife Kay, who pleads with him to allow their son, Tony, to pursue a career as an opera singer. Kay can be chilling. "Tony knows that you killed Fredo," she warns Michael. Yet she has never got over him, as we see in a later scene when they have a tearful tête-à-tête in Sicily, a scene Pacino and Keaton make painfully real.

Connie, played with glorious sharpness and wit by Talia Shire, has morphed into Lady Macbeth. Mafia princesses can never run things, but they can pull the strings. It's Connie who ruthlessly tells Vincent, "You're the only one in this family with my father's strength. If anything happens to Michael I want you to strike back." She has asked the right person.

Vincent is central to many of the set pieces. During a meeting of Mafia heads in Atlantic City, when Michael announces he is out of the crime business, a helicopter approaches the window and shoots most of them dead. Vincent rushes Michael, the main target, to safety. The intrigue and rapid-fire violence in the perfectly orchestrated scene might obscure the real point: Michael can't escape his past. That attack causes his cry: "Just when I thought I was out..." Pacino's performance may have become an object of derision, but he knows what he's doing. He is raw and angrily over-the-top in some scenes, but modulates those outbursts with quieter moments. When a stress-induced diabetic attack sends him to the hospital, in his delusional state he calls out Fredo's name. Pacino shows us a conflicted Michael, weakened yet clinging to power.

The power of the re-edited finale

The tone becomes more ominous and the themes more spiritual when the entire family goes to Sicily for Tony's opera debut. (There are spoilers here, but the time limit on spoilers has expired after 30 years.) Michael grapples with the Sicilian Mafia, for reasons linked to the Immobiliare deal, but that is less important than his inner crisis. He makes a confession to a cardinal, breaking down in tears as he says, "I'm beyond redemption." When his protector, Don Tommasino, becomes another victim of Michael's power struggle, he sits by the coffin and says to God, "I swear on the lives of my children, give me a chance to redeem myself and I will sin no more." In this version, Coppola eliminates lines in which Michael asks why he is feared and not loved, removing that plea for the audience's sympathy. Michael gives Vincent control of the family, but does he really have a clear conscience when he knows too well the vengeance Vincent will plan?

The Trump era has been full of Godfather references; Trump himself regularly attacks CNN's Chris Cuomo by calling him Fredo.

That revenge plays out in the elaborate, gripping final sequence at the opera, a counterpart to one of the most famous episodes from The Godfather, when a baptism is intercut with a series of murders. That first sequence was about Michael's rise to power; now he suffers the consequences. While the family watches Tony on stage, Coppola weaves in scenes of Vincent's crew settling scores. One shoots an enemy who plummets off a beautiful spiral staircase. Another murders a rival by stabbing the man's own eyeglasses into his neck. At the opera, hitmen are after Michael, which leads to the shooting on the steps, and a bullet meant for him that kills Mary. For him there is no coming back from that, no possible way to forgive himself.  

As the film ends, Coppola makes a brilliant editing choice. The original ending flashed ahead years to the elderly Michael, sitting alone in a gravelly yard as the camera closes in on a face still full of desolation and sadness. He falls to the ground, obviously dead.  With a tiny cut, Coppola transforms the meaning of the scene. It now ends with the close-up of Michael's face, still alive. Living with his guilt is his true death, a death of the soul and of hope. Coppola adds text at the end, which says: “When the Sicilians wish you ‘Cent'anni’... it means ‘for long life’... and a Sicilian never forgets.” Michael is doomed to a long life of remembering.

Godfather, Coda restores Coppola's original darker vision, but one element creates a jolt even he couldn't have seen coming. The locations listed in the end credits include Trump Castle Casino Resort in Atlantic City, where the exterior of the helicopter attack was shot. The Trump era has been full of Godfather references. Some are from mainsteam media, including a 2018 Atlantic Magazine article with the headline Donald Trump Goes Full Fredo, comparing a Trump tweet saying that he is “like, really smart” to Fredo famously insisting in Godfather II, “I'm smart! Not like everybody says, like dumb, I'm smart!”  Similarly, Twitter trolls routinely mock the president's circle and his grown children as Fredos, portraying them as weak and bumbling like the character,  including pasting Donald Trump Jr’s head on a photo of Fredo's body.  Donald Trump himself regularly attacks CNN's Chris Cuomo by calling him Fredo. Godfather II even turned up in court documents charging Trump's advisor Roger Stone with obstructing justice, citing an email in which Stone asked someone to protect him the way Frankie Pentangeli covered up for the Corleones. Today the location credit lands like a coda to the end of the Trump presidency, and offers a reminder of how influential the Godfather films have been, even when they were embraced for all the wrong reasons.

Mario Puzo's The Godfather, Coda: The Death of Michael Corleone is available on BluRay and streaming from 8 December.

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https://www.bbc.com/culture/article/20201201-why-the-godfather-part-iii-has-been-unfairly-demonised

https://www.bbc.com/culture/article/20201201-david-fincher-hollywoods-most-disturbing-director

#Godfather Part III

[namelists]

names inspired by: lord of the rings

this list includes names inspired by tolkien’s epic high-fantasy, and the various people, places and things that inhabit it

disclaimer:

please don’t take this too seriously. it’s just a list of words from lotr that i think would make cool names. if i changed any spellings, i put “from [language]” in the meaning. i had fun with this, and i hope you will too!

Adan: the Elves’ name for those Men who first crossed the Blue Mountains

Aduiel: from Sindarin (an Elvish language), meaning “eventide, twilight, star-opening”

Adun: Adûnaic (an extinct Mannish language) meaning “west”

Aelin: Elvish, meaning “lake, pool”

Aiglos: Sindarin for “icicle”

Ainura: from Quenya (an Elvish language), meaning “holy ones”, refers to the angelic spirits created by Ilúvatar

Alda: Quenya, meaning “tree”

Aldaloma: from Quenya, meaning “tree-shadow”

Alqua: Sindarin, meaning “swan”

Amarië: a Fair Elf woman of ancient Valinor

Ambarona: Quenya, meaning “world’s birth”

Amila: from the Elvish for “mother”

Amon: Sindarin, meaning “mountain, hill”

Anarya: Quenya, meaning "day of the sun”, the second day of the Elvish week

Anna: Sindarin, meaning “gift”

Anodo: from Sindarin, meaning “Ent”, the ancient race of tree guardians

Anárion: a human who lived in the Second Age

Aragorn: the king who returns in Return of the King

Arda: Quenya, meaning “region, realm”, became the term for the world

Áre - Quenya word for ‘Sunlight’.

Ari: from Adûnaic, meaning “royal”

Arnu: Adûnaic, meaning “king”

Arwen: half-elven daughter of Elrond and Celebrían, and wife of Aragorn

Avallone: the name of a city on the eastern coast of the Elven island realm

Avari: Quenya, meaning “unwilling”

Balin: Dwarf companion of Thorin Oakenshield in The Hobbit

Barliman: the owner of The Prancing Pony Inn in Bree

Beleriand: a vast region located in north-western Middle-earth during the First Age

Benadar: another name for the enigmatic Tom Bombadil, a nature spirit who lived in the depths of the Old Forest Beren: a hero whose romance with the Elf Lúthien was one of the great stories of the Elder Days

Bilbo: the hobbit from The Hobbit who discovered the One Ring

Boromir: warrior of Gondor and member of the Company of the Ring

Bowman: Bard the Bowman was a Man of Esgaroth who slew Smaug the dragon

Brethil: Elvish, meaning “silver birch”

Calaquendi: the Elves of the Light

Calen: Sindarin, meaning “green”

Calma: Quenya, meaning ‘lamp”

Coirë: Elvish, meaning “stirring”, the last of the six Elven Seasons

Corana: from Quenya, meaning “sun-round” (aka, a year)

Cormallen: Sindarin, meaning “ring bearers”

Cuivie: Elvish, meaning “awaking”

Círdan: Elf leader. Shipwright and bearer of a Ring of Power.

Dae: Elvish, meaning “shadow”

Dagor: Sindarin, meaning 'battle’

Denethor: the name of at least three rulers

Dina: Elvish, meaning “be silent”

Drego: Sindarin, meaning “flee”

Drúedain: a strange race of wild Men that lived in the Drúadan Forest

Duin: Elvish, meaning “long river”

Echor: Elvish, meaning 'encircling mountains’

Edhel: Sindarin, meaning “elf”

Edhellen: Sindarin, meaning “of the Elves”

Elbereth: the Vala Varda, goddess of light

Eldaliéva: Quenya, meaning “elven spirituality”

Eldar: Quenya, meaning “people of the stars”, the Elves’ name for themselves

Eldarin - Quenya word for the languages spoken by the Elves

Elear: Sindarin, meaning “visionary”

Eleni: Quenya, meaning “star”

Elenya: Sindarin, “day of the stars”, the first day of the elvish week

Elessar: another name for Aragorn II

Elrond: powerful leader of the elves, and ruler of Rivendell

Emyn: Sindarin, meaning “hills”

Endari: the middle of the year in the Elvish calendar

Endóre: Quenya word for 'Middle-earth’

Éomer: the eighteenth King of Rohan, and first of the Third Line of their kings

Éowyn: female member of the royal house of Rohan who kills the Witch King of Angmar

Eriador: a region of Middle-earth located between the Blue Mountains and the Misty Mountains

Eryn: Sindarin, meaning “forest, wood”

Esse: Quenya, meaning “name”

Estel: Sindarin, meaning “hope”

Estellio: Sindarin, meaning “trust”

Ethuil: the first season of the Elvish year, equivalent to spring

Eärendil: First Age half-elf who eventually became a legendary figure. He and his wife Elwing are key to the victory of good in the Silmarillion.

Falas: Elvish, meaning “shore, line of surf”

Faramir: the Captain of the Rangers of Ithilien

Faroth: Elvish, meaning “hunt, pursue”

Finwë: First king of the Noldor

Firith: Sindarin, meaning “fading”, the fourth season of the Elvish year

Formen: Quenya, meaning “north”

Frodo: the nephew of Bilbo Baggins who bore the One Ring to its destruction in Mount Doom

Fëa: Elvish, meaning “spirit”

Fëanor: one of the Elves that first departed from Valinor

Galad: Elvish, meaning “light”

Galadriel: Queen of the Elves

Gandalf: ancient wizard badass. a member of the Fellowship of the Ring

Gildor: Elf of Rivendell in the Third Age

Gilthoniel: Varda, the Vala responsible for the outlining of the stars

Gimli: Dwarf and member of the Fellowship of the Ring

Gondolin: a hidden city of the Elves

Gríma: an ally of Saruman who gave false advice to the King of Rohan

Haleth:  Haleth was the daughter of Haldad, leader of the Haladin

Húrin: a hero of Men during the First Age

Iarwain:  another name for the enigmatic Tom Bombadil, a nature spirit who lived in the depths of the Old Forest

Ilúvatar: the supreme deity of Arda

Incánus: another name for the badass wizard demigod Gandalf

Indis: a female Vanyar Elf of Valinor

Istari: five Maiar spirits sent to Middle-earth as human forms to aid the Free Peoples against the threat of Sauron

Kaliondi:  the Elves of Darkness

Khôr: Adûnaic, meaning “lord”

Laira: from Quenya, meaning “summer”

Lalaith: an Edain child, named Urwen at birth, but renamed after the stream running by her house

Legolas: beautiful elf warrior, member of the Fellowship of the Ring

Lindon: an important Elvish realm, known for its harbors and Elven Ships that would sail for the West.

Luin: Sindarin, meaning “blue”

Lórien: a magic forest and Elven realm into which evil could not enter without difficulty

Lúthien: An ancient elf, predating the First Age

Maedhros: one of the princes of the Ñoldor, the eldest of the seven Sons of Fëanor

Maia: near-primordial spirits that descended into Arda to help the Valar first shape the World

Melkor: the original evil being in Tolkien’s legendarium, succeeded by Sauron

Mellon: Elvish, meaning “friend”

Meriadoc: a hobbit and companion of Frodo Baggins, and member of the Company of the Ring

Merry: Meriadoc’s nickname

Minas: Elvish, meaning “tower”

Minelle: from Adûnaic, meaning “sky”

Mithrin: Sindarin, meaning “grey”

Mordor: the Land of Shadow, a dark volcanic plain that Sauron used as his military base

Moria: an underground kingdom beneath the Misty Mountains

Moriquendi: the Elves of Darkness

Morwen: Wife of Húrin. one of very few female characters in this series

Muindor: Sindarin, meaning “brother”

Muinthel: Sindarin, meaning “sister”

Namárië: Quenya, meaning “farewell”

Narya: one of the three Elvish Rings of Power, described as having the power to inspire others to resist tyranny, domination and despair

Navaer: Sindarin, meaning “farewell”

Nelya: the largest of the three houses of the Elves

Nenya: one of the three Elvish Rings of Power, wielded by Galadriel, normally invisible

Nikerym: Elvish, meaning “captain”

Nilu: Adûnaic, meaning “moon”

Nimir: Adûnaic, meaning “elf”

Nimrais: Sindarin, meaning “white peaks”

Nin: Elvish, meaning “my” (example: ‘mellon nin’ means ‘my friend’)

Olórin: Gandalf’s original name

Orod: Sindarin, meaning “mountain”

Palantíri: Quenyan, meaning “far-seeing”

Parma: Quenya, meaning “book”

Peredhel: Sindarin, meaning “half elvish”

Peregrin: a hobbit companion of Frodo Baggins, and a member of the Fellowship of the Ring

Pharaz: Adûnaic, meaning “gold”

Phelle: from Adûnaic, meaning “daughter”

Pippin: Peregrin’s nickname

Quelre: Sindarin, meaning “good day”

Quenya: one of the Elvish languages, along with Sindarin

Rivendell: a peaceful, sheltered Elven town, located at the edge of a narrow gorge of the river Bruinen

Rohan: a great kingdom of Men, located in the great vale between the Misty Mountains to the north and the White Mountains to the south

Samwise: loyal companion of Frodo Baggins who accompanies him to Mordor

Sarati: an alphabet and writing system invented in Valinor by Rúmil of Tirion

Saruman: A wizard. Once a leader for good, he formed his own empire as a rival of Sauron and was defeated at the Battle of the Hornburg.

Sauron: The primary antagonist of The Lord of the Rings. He crafted the One Ring, and was destroyed upon its destruction at the end of the The Return of the King.

Shire: the homeland of the majority of the Hobbits in Middle-earth, located in the northern region of Eriador

Silma: from Quenya, meaning “starlight”

Silvan: the name given to the woodland Elves

Sindarin: one of the Elvish languages, along with Quenya

Strider: one of Aragorn’s nicknames

Taliska: the language of the Bëorian and Hadorian Houses of the Atanatári

Tauriel: Elvish, meaning “daughter of the forest”

Tavrobel: a town in the northwestern part of the island of Tol Eressëa

Teleri: the third of the Elf clans who came to Aman

Thalia: from Elvish, meaning “bravery”

Thalin: Elvish, meaning “dauntless”

Thorin: Dwarf that led the company of dwarves that retook Erebor from the dragon

Théoden: King of Rohan

Tuilë: Quenya, meaning “spring”

Túrin: A First Age man who later became the subject of legends

Undómiel: another name for Arwen

Ûrî: Adûnaic, meaning “sun”

Urulóki: Quenya, meaning “hot, heat”, also used as a name for Fire-Drakes

Vala: Elvish, meaning “mighty”

Valar: the Powers of Arda who shaped and rule the world.

Valdra: Elvish, meaning “inferno”

Valinor: Quenya, meaning “land of the Valar”

Vanya: one of the Fair Elves, or Light Elves

Vilya: one of the three Elvish Rings of Power, may have provided the ability to heal and to preserve

Zadna: Adûnaic, meaning “house”

Zimra: Adûnaic, meaning “jewel”

Zîra: from Adûnaic, meaning “friend”

Zôr: Adûnaic, meaning “flame”

#name list #masterlist #name help #character help #lotr #this took two full days you guys #these names are cool as hell though i want 27 dogs now #lol jk i always want 27 dogs #rph

[random-imagines-blog]

Behind the Crimson Door {Pippin x Reader Oneshot}

Requested by: Anonymous Wordcount: 2741 Summary: Pippin shows you around the shire. Notes: I am SO sorry that this has taken me so long. I have no excuse. :(

You were not a big part of the journey that saved Middle Earth, but you were still proud to say that you were a tiny part of it. Well, tinier than tiny, anyhow. When the hobbits had made it to the town of Bree, and entered into the Prancing Pony looking for shelter, you had been the one to serve them after your boss disappointed them with news of Gandalf not being there. Most of the men in the place looked down at the hobbits, and not just because they were short. The four in their home-spun clothes with their goofy grins and short curly hair didn’t belong in such a dark and dingy place like the Prancing Pony, or Bree in general. When they ordered their drinks, you had brought them over, large pint glasses filled with the finest beer that you could find in the place. Wherever they had come from, wherever they were going to go, they probably deserved that beer. 

“Are you from the Shire?” You asked the shortest of them. It was the only Hobbit settlement that you had heard of, and even catching snippets about that was rare. It was from the wizard that they were seeking, Gandalf, that you had heard of the place. It had stuck in your head because it sounded like a perfect place. Green grass, sunny skies, cute little houses built into the hills, and no fights are clanging around. A good place for some peace and quiet - which was something that you never got in Bree, the place that you had been born and raised.

“Why yes!” He spoke proudly, holding up his pint glass which was about half the size of him. “Have you been there?”

“No, I’d like to though,” You smiled, seeing his excitement. It was nice to see a happy face around here. They were so unbelievably rare. “I’ve heard about it, from Gandalf.”

You and Pippin made introductions to one another and he spent the next fifteen minutes going on about his favorite things about the Shire. It painted a really pretty picture, especially the gardens that he’d often steal vegetables from, a story that made you laugh. You were sad to see him go, but you were glad to hear that he escaped safely. You managed to avoid the Dark Riders who came into the Prancing Pony, because thankfully, you didn’t actually live in the inn. You had a small place to yourself on the other side of town which one of the other bartenders would escort you to after your shift was over. You thanked the stars that night for keeping you safe, as well as those hobbits, and that it was only the gatekeeper who ended up hurt - but not dead.

-

Those Dark Riders had brought fear into the darkness of Bree. Word was always coming around, since it was a travellers town, and people were always coming and going. People trying to escape the wars in the east and south came through, looking for shelter and the inn was full to capacity each and every night. You managed to keep your job, but ended up leasing out a room in your house to a family in need from the south. All throughout this time, you thought of those hobbits, and Pippin in particular, despite only sharing a small amount of time with him. You hoped that the darkness of this world had not sunk into the Shire, the perfect place in your mind.

For months, the world lived in fear as forces beyond imagination streamed out of Isengard and Mordor. But then word came to Bree that Isengard had been defeated - by nothing less than two Hobbits and ents! You had heard stories about ents in the past, but didn’t know that they were still around, much less getting involved in the wars of the world. You weren’t sure if it was Pippin, or any of the other hobbits that you had met that night, but it had seemed like they were on the start of a perilous journey which could very well end up in such an awful place. When you had heard that news, you and the owner of the Prancing Pony had hugged each other with delight for it brought a lot of hope into the world.

And then a while later, it was heard and rejoiced that Mordor had been defeated, and fell into a desolate ruin, the orcs being swallowed up by the earth. The ring of power that had started this whole war had been destroyed, and all of the hobbits had returned home to the Shire. You were thankful for all of that, but you did wish that they may have stopped by on their way home, just to show that they were alright. But alas, they did not, so you took matters into your own hands. You wrote a letter.

The letter contained a reminder of who you are, your plan to visit the Shire because the war had made you realize that life was far too short to not live out your dreams, and of course, a thank you for his part in saving the world. You received a letter in return weeks later, with Pippin’s messy handwriting. It looked as if it was written in a rush, and reminded you of how he had spoken to you. Stumbling over his words because he liked to speak his thoughts as he thought them. The letter contained a date that he could meet you on the Bucklebury Ferry, and take you on the best tour of the Shire that you would ever get.

There wasn’t enough time to compose another letter before the date that he had listed. You packed, and gave a notice to the innkeeper that you were going away for a little while, but you would definitely be back. You packed some clothes into your nice little packing case that was a gift from your parents long ago. Your name was hand painted on it, and just managed to fit everything that you needed.

The road, which you hit as soon as the sun started to ascend, was not hard to traverse. It went over valleys, and woods where the leaves were crunching underfoot, and before too long, you found yourself at the water, looking for the ferry that Pippin had told you about. And there he was - coming closer across the water, holding onto a large stick and using it as an oar to control the wooden ferry. You smiled, holding your trunk in front of you as the Hobbit came closer.

“Get here alright?” You asked as you stepped onto the surprisingly stable surface.

“Course!” He said, enthusiastically. With that, he smiled goofily, looking up at you. When you noticed his eyes on you like that, a small flush came across your face. His journey had matured him, you could see that, but he still had the spirit that you had admired when you two had met all that time ago. “Y/N, good heavens, we might make it in time for supper!”

“Well, what are we waiting for then?” You asked. Immediately, he used the stick to back up from the shore, and go back over the lake, towards the Shire. A feeling of anxiety and excitement was bubbling up in you stomach, and your hands tightened around the handle of your suitcase. You were getting ants in your stockings, as your mother used to say, for you were fidgeting and couldn’t stand still. “You know, I don’t even really know what you eat in The Shire,” You said to break your silence. Pippin hadn’t broken his, he was rambling on about the farmer who had chased him out of his garden once more. He had ended that story with how things just haven’t changed despite him being a hero.

“All sorts of stuff! I’ve got a salted pork in the oven, just waiting to be eaten! And some carrots. They might be stolen though but that won’t get rid of their flavor!” He seemed more enthusiastic about the dinner than about anything else. That was one thing you’ve definitely learned about Hobbits - they love their food.

You smiled, strolling along with him through the pathways after leaving the ferry. “I didn’t know that you could cook,” You said, keeping your arms in front of you, holding the suitcase securely, but you felt relaxed enough to look at your surroundings. Unlike Pippin, you were about as tall as the cornstalks and could see your way through them just fine. But you didn’t need to look, for the Hobbit by your side knew this place better than the back of his hand, and didn’t lose his footing once.  

“Why’d you assume I couldn’t?” Pippin asked with a cheeky smile that matched the youthful curls. He seemed to radiate a sort of childishness that you couldn’t help but admire, but you knew there was something more behind those rosy cheeks. You knew that he was a hero, who had saved this Earth. You knew that he was part of the reason the Shire was still the peaceful place that it is.

��No, no, I didn’t assume anything.” You said with the same smile. “Don’t think for a moment that I would assume anything about you, Pippin. No, I just didn’t know that knights could cook at all.” You brought up his past in Gondor and saw a flush go across his cheeks. “Is that saying too much?” You asked, hoping that you didn’t say the wrong thing.

“No, not at all, though I didn’t have to cook much while I was there. I’ll be honest with you though...” He said, looking around to make sure that no one was listening. “I just took a lot of Denethor’s food when I had to serve him. He left so much waste, I felt it was my duty!”

“I’m sure the gardens thank you for not letting their food rot,” You said, holding in a grin.

-

Your thoughts on the Shire being beautiful only grew while you were on the tour. As the two of you passed by his many neighbors, Pippin always did a bow to his head to them, while they looked away grumpy. Having the saviors of the world in their city, as their neighbors and friends, wasn’t enough for these people? You were surprised to say the least but Pippin took it all in stride until he took you to a hobbit hole with a red door and a near-immaculate garden.

“You don’t seem to be the most popular guy in town,” You said in surprise as the Hobbit started to dig in his pocket for his keys. He laughed, his curls bouncing around his face.

“People from the Shire don’t know how bad war is,” He explained.

“That’s probably a good thing,” You sighed, understanding what he was saying. He grinned at you then put his key into the lock, revealing his own home to you.

“I think so,” He said, and walked inside, bare feet against the soft wood flooring. You stepped in after him, having to duck a little to get through the round door frame but you were comfortable inside the main house, which was more spacious than it looked from the outside. Pippin took your hand and excitedly showed you his favorite room - the kitchen, of course. “Gandalf always keeps me supplied with the best!” He said, showing you his pantry, the top shelf of which was just pipe weed, which made you giggle. As you looked around, you felt Pippin’s eyes on you, looking for any sort of judgment on your features. The only thing on your face was a smile.

-

“Why is the Shire celebrating?” You asked as Pippin took your hand and was dragging you towards a sprawling piece of land that was adorned with streamers and balloons. The Shire had been a quiet, peaceful place during the day but now, you were going to be experiencing the nightlife.

“It’s Samwise Gamgee’s Birthday!” Pippin announced grandly, getting the attention of some of the other Hobbits. “I had to tell them I’d introduce ya-”

“Because he’s been talking about it since you met!” A friendly faced hobbit popped up beside the two of you. You recognized him as Merry, and your eyes lit up at seeing him again. “Well, did you bring me a pint?” He asked with a broad grin.

You laughed and continued to smile as you were brought into a hug by the Hobbit that you had heard the most about since you arrived here. It was clear that these two were the closest out of all of the hobbits - even closer than brothers, since they did a lot of things together. “Not today, but stop by the Prancing Pony anytime, it’ll be free for you.”

“Marry this one, Pip,” Merry winked, then made his way through the crowd, leaving both you and your companion blushing.

“You’re uhh -” You stammered, trying to think of a way to get off that topic. “Oh - is that food?”

“Food?” That was always a good way to get a Hobbit into a different way of thinking, apparently. But it also made him grab hold of your hand and tug you over to a table ladden with different fruits, and a couple of different fruit pies as well. And ale, of course.

“Pippin, don’t go eating everything, it’s for all the guests!” A male voice came from behind a pile of apples.

“Fine, Sam,” Pippin sighed. “Just a couple of delicious pies maybe-”

“Pippin!” The same voice said, and another head of curly hair, sandy blonde this time, came with a grumpy expression. “I’d promised Rosie that there would be enough for everyone.”

“The birthday boy!” Pippin said, leaning in to hug Sam while shoving a few plums into his side pocket while the other hobbit was distracted. Oh, how that made you grin, just  because it was such a Pippin thing to do. It’s only been a day with him but you felt like you had leaned a lot. “Please, tell the ol’ lady I say hello.”

“You’re not staying?” Sam asked, face contorted into confusion.

“I’m taking y/n to the best place to see the fireworks!” Pippin said, looking at you with pride as he spoke his idea out loud. It was a pleasant idea, and you were excited to see the fireworks that were described to you. Sam looked between the two of you, and you stepped forward to re-introduce yourself, but he must have known that you were coming since he gave you a big smile and said he was more than happy to have you here.

It didn’t take long for Pippin to take you out of there, and then onto the hill where his crimson door was embedded. What was surprising was that you didn’t go inside, but rather, he set you up on the top of the hill, viewing right where the party was. You settled in right away though, your suitcase safely stowed inside, your thoughts only on what was ahead. When you and Pippin sat next to one another, the height difference seemed barely there anymore. You inched just a bit closer to him as the sky darkened quickly, and he gently took hold of your hand with an eager look on his face. Whilst the fireworks were going on behind you, you were looking at the colors that splashed across his face with every burst. You thought that he was one of the most beautiful people in this world, and you’d seen humans, elves, dwarves and three other hobbits.

Deciding to take a chance, you got a little closer and leaned your head on his little shoulder. He did the same in return, resting his head on yours, hands still being held, and together you watched the show.

What would happen next while you stayed in Hobbiton, you weren’t sure, but you weren’t nervous at all to find out since you had the best company possible.

#Pippin #Pippin x reader #Pippin oneshot #The Lord of the Rings #The Lord of the Rings oneshot #LOTR #LOTR oneshot #request #oneshot #oneshots

[fuckyeahficrec]

Bagginshield (Bilbo Baggins/Thorin Oakenshield)

I will add more in a near future

Please, give me suggestions for this blog and submit your own fics

These are listed by size - wordcount

Moving Day - by Jezunya - Rating: General - Words: 2739

Summary: The hobbit finally stops, looking Thorin dead in the eye again.“Or do you want me out of the Mountain entirely?” he demands, his voice low and perfectly steady, glaring across at Thorin with a mixture of hurt and anger in his hazel eyes.

Returned - by StrivingArtist - Rating: General - Words: 3369

Summary:  Now that he knew what it was worth, Bilbo really couldn't keep the mithril. Had he known what it meant, he would have made a different decision.

garden child - by moonythejedi394 - Rating: Teen and Up - Words: 3574

Summary:  “Thorin and I are expecting a child,” Bilbo announced. Kíli choked on a bite of bread, Fíli spat wine clear across the table, Tauriel dropped the bowl of potatoes in her hands, and Dís just about fell off her chair. “Pardon me,” Kíli said, a little hoarsely, “but don’t you need a, er, a uterus for that?” “No. You see, Hobbit children are grown in the garden,” Bilbo answered. “What, right next to the cabbages?” said Kíli. The biggest difference between Hobbits and Dwarves was not, as most people assume, the lack of beards or the size of feet. In truth, the difference was in the method of their birth. While Dwarves did things the old fashioned way, with their womenfolk carrying their children for nine months, Hobbits made use of a single seed, two locks of hair, and fertile soil. This, of course, means that where Dwarves need both one male and one female to bring new life to the world, Hobbits need no such restriction.

Do I Make You Nervous, Hobbit? - by A Very Respectable Hobbit - Rating: Mature - Words: 5k+

Summary:  Everything had felt so real, but now he was sure that he must be dreaming. After all, his dreams had always been so vivid, though Dream-Thorin had never teased him like this before.

A Reason to Stay - by deesaster - Rating: Teen and Up - Words: 6140

Summary: “Well, it’s been quite a while since the battle.” Almost two months, two months he has happily spent in Erebor, being with his friends, watching the Mountain come back to life.He thinks about it all again. There’s nothing keeping him here, he has done his job, Erebor and its treasure are Thorin’s, exactly as they planned nearly a year ago in Bag End. He has lingered in the aftermath, and he should return home, since there is virtually no reason for him to remain here. Except… home is where the heart is, after all. His heart is definitely not in Bag End anymore, but with the very Dwarf before him. However, this is not a good enough reason to stay, not when he knows his feelings will never be reciprocated.“So, I’ve been thinking of heading back home.”Thorin stills. The kind smile on his face vanishes slowly.

The Heart Under the Mountain - by Daaro Moltor - Rating: General - Words: 6k+

Summary:  After the Battle of Five Armies, Bilbo went back to the Shire. It was the expected thing to do, after all.

A Winter’s Tale - by paranoid_fridge - Rating: Not Rated (I’d say General)  - Words: 11547

Summary: Bilbo stays in Erebor after the battle. He's in love with Thorin, that much he can admit to himself. What Thorin feels, he doesn't know, but he's happy they get to spend time together. And maybe, just maybe, his affections are returned.Or: Thorin slyly courts Bilbo after dwarven custom, Bilbo pines for Thorin, and at one point they end up ice sailing on the lake. It - like the hair brushing session - is less romantic than both parties initially expected, but enjoyable nonetheless.

Colour-struck - by northerntrash - Rating: Not Rated (I’d say Teen and Up) - Words: 14298

Summary:  Soul mates are like adventures, Bilbo had often consoled himself. Nasty, disturbing, uncomfortable things that made you late for dinner. It was no great hardship that he had never met his, even if he couldn't tell which of his petunias were blue and which were purple.

Death by Flowers - by Avelera - Rating: Explicit - Words: 19340

Summary: Thorin encounters a particularly deadly flower while the Company travels through Mirkwood: one that releases a form of aphrodisiac pollen that may take days to burn out of his system, if it doesn't kill him first. To survive, he's going to need a partner. Fortunately, he and Mistress Baggins have grown quite close. Unfortunately, Thorin has decided not to pursue Bilbo any further until he can court her properly once the Mountain is reclaimed.It would help if he had informed Bilbo of any of this, especially when an Elvish flower is doing its level best to kill him.

A Most Sensible Idea - by HildyJ - Rating: Teen and Up - Words: 76854

Summary: Bilbo Baggins isn't sure about this. Not one bit. Frodo is definitely too young to enter into an arranged marriage with a dwarven king called Thorin Oakenshield. It's a good thing that Bilbo is there to chaperone him through their courtship. After all, there's no chance that a fussy hobbit bachelor would ever catch the eye of a king.

AUs (Alternative Universes)

Punch Drunk Courage - by Emsiecat - Rating: General - Words: 4369

AU - Modern Setting

Summary: For the 'Bagginshield Summer Surprise' event I was given the prompt of working in Thorin's POV and the line: "Do you always make your fruit punch that strong?"I decided to go for a Modern!AU and tried to add a bit of a backstory to it all while trying (and sliiightly failing) to keep within the 4000 word limit.I'm a bit rusty with writing at the moment and this one is not Beta'd, so I hope it's all okay.

(Almost Believing) This One’s Not Pretend - by diemarysues - Rating: Teen and Up - Words: 14955

AU - Moder Setting 

Summary: Thorin Oakenshield and Bilbo Baggins have been friends since they attended the same university some years ago. Bilbo decides one day to surprise Thorin by making the long flight over to spend the holidays with him. Unfortunately, Thorin's house is currently overrun with family who seem too interested in Thorin's (lack of) love life. Misunderstandings occur and suddenly Thorin and Bilbo are boyfriends - but not really. They've done crazier things before; surely pretending to be together will be a piece of cake. Right?

Series

tiny Hobbits - by moonythejedi394 - Words: 35417 - 5 Parts (all Teen and Up)

Respectability - by GirlInRedDress - Words: 331492 - 2 Parts (both Teen and Up) - Not Completed but you can read the fics anyway

#bilbo baggins/thorin oakenshield #bilbo x thorin #bilbo baggins x thorin oakenshield #bagginshield #bagginshield fic rec #fic recommendation #hobbit fic rec #tolkien universe #bilbo baggins #thorin oakenshield #hobbit fic #lotr fanfic #lotr

[elysianrey]

what could be as lonely as love?

[part two of it’s a slow cinnamon summer. read part 1]

(a/n: Y’ALL. I JUST DELETED THE ORIGINAL POST. I’m so mad at myself... if you liked this or reblogged it sometime yesterday or today...feel free to do it again. The feedback i’ve gotten has honestly been the best. You guys are amazing. I will try to get part 3 up tomorrow. xoxo Content T+)

In the weeks following the secret lake party, Josie decided to throw a small get together at her house for their group of friends. Although Anne did not necessarily consider herself a friend of Josie’s, Ruby had begged and pleaded in the wake of Diana’s absence, especially since Moody was going to be there, and the two had been spending an awful lot of time together. Ruby was convinced that it would only be a matter of days before they officially began courting. Anne could find it within herself to be grateful that Ruby had given up her lifelong pining of Gilbert, however, the reasons why were still not entirely clear to her. 

But she knew it had something to do with that night at the lake, where she was beginning to see him as potentially more than a friend. And it frightened her.

Josie spared no expense in ensuring her friends had plates of food and many glasses of punch to help them enjoy the midsummer evening. After one glass, Ruby was giggling uncontrollably at a joke Moody had made and by glass two she was sobbing hysterically at a song he was strumming on his banjo. 

This was when she understood exactly just what kind of beverage this punch had in it, and she took it upon herself to drink enough until the movements of her body felt looser and her mind was a little less sad. Marilla trusted her judgement and Anne had grown far wiser when it came to drinking alcohol since the day when Diana and her consumed a whole bottle of raspberry cordial. She smiled reminiscently at the memory as she swirled the orange liquid in her glass and finished the rest with a silent toast to her bosom friend, hoping that she was savoring her time in France. 

Deciding she had enough of the girls’ dramatics, Anne slipped outside of the house into the clear, July evening that she was fixed on enjoying properly. 

She found herself trailing delightedly through the Pye’s enormous garden, the scent of blooming roses wafting through the twilight air and encompassing her slightly buzzed senses. Giggling lowly, she closed her eyes and attempted to follow the direction of that glorious smell with solely the use of her nose. She reached her arms out to feel for the delicate texture of a petal as she continued further into the maze of tall bushes. 

“Where, oh where, are you my lovely friends?” she called out joyfully into the nature surrounding her. For the most part, she was doing well to avoid running into the walls of bushes, but occasionally she walked headlong into one and had to use her vision by slightly squinting open one eye to redirect her path. The several glasses of punch she drank with her classmates seemed to be helping her discover the world in a new light tonight and she could not resist feeling grateful for it.

Eventually, her fingers found the source of her elation, and she knew she had made her discovery when she felt not only the feather-soft, smoothness of rose petals, but also the prickly thorns that accompanied them. Gasping from the slight ache on her pointer finger from the unexpected sharpness, Anne let her eyes drift open fully to appreciate the hundreds of red blooms that lay before her.

“Ah, there you are,” she grinned cheerily, sticking her finger in her mouth to stop the small drop of blood that had formed. “You are especially marvelous tonight with your velvety red petals and deliciously smelling perfume.” She dropped her hand to glide along the tops of the flowers and revelled in their feel.

“Anne?” 

The girl heard her name, yet her jubilant ministrations on the rose bushes continued. 

“Anne is that you?”

Pausing this time, she turned slowly to face the owner of the curious, low voice. Before her sat Gilbert Blythe, glass of punch in his hand, resting comfortably on an elegant wired bench that was almost humorously too petite for his large, broad form. At this realization, Anne let out an amused laugh, her mind still rather loose from the alcohol she had consumed.

Gilbert’s eyebrow raised in perplexity, his eyes looking bright and content in the dimming evening air. The side of his mouth quirked upwards, revealing half of a smile, as Anne’s laughter began to grow louder and harder until she was clutching her side in a desperate attempt to keep herself from toppling onto the green ground. 

“Oh Gilbert,” Anne choked, tears streaming down her cheeks as she choked for air. “I--you--” she attempted again, pushing the falling tendrils of coppery hair back from her face. “That bench you’re sitting on--it looks as it could nearly topple in half at any moment.” If only her brain would have allowed her to consider the words coming out of her mouth…

“Anne Shirely-Cuthbert,” Gilbert chuckled, quite entertained at this girl before him. “Are you calling me fat?” His face broke into a wide, dimpled smile that Anne could not help but saunter toward slightly, her feet moving on their own accord. 

“I would never,” she playfully gasped, stopping directly in front of him so that she could get a better look at his dapper features. This was the happiest she had seen him look in a long time, and she wondered if it had anything to do with the drink in his hand. It had certainly aided in lowering her inhibitions.  “I am positive that your big ego could do that all on it’s own.”

His face twisted into a mock expression of hurt and Anne’s laughter returned, a melodious tune ringing in his ears. “My ego may never return to the size it once was after a remark like that, Anne,” he grinned, his eyes staring fondly into hers. He brought his glass up to his lips for another sip of his drink.

Anne watched as his lips curled around the rim of the glass, an unwelcome heat forming in the pit of her stomach. These were not details about him she would usually notice and she tried her best to redirect her line of thinking onto something less romantical. 

“Do you know what I’ve always wanted to do, Gil? Touch your hair,” she gingerly stated. Great, Anne. That was just the perfectly normal comment to say to someone who was definitely not your romantic partner.

She watched his shoulders tense and the lighthearted expression on his face faltered enough for her to notice. “Anne,” he replied in a tone that denied everything his body had already told her. “How many drinks have you had tonight?”

Anne crossed her arms, irritation building in her chest. For him to think that she needed to be drunk to say something like she wanted to touch his hair. The nerve. “Why is it of your concern? I’ll have you know that I am entirely in control of my thoughts and actions, thank you very much,” came her terse response.

He glanced away from her, not buying into what she had told him, however, he would not dare tell her that for he was a bit tipsy himself.

Anne waited crossly until he finished the drink in his hand, which he was gulping down this time. No longer caring that she would later regret a majority of the choices she was going to make from this point forward, the freckled girl stared boldly at him gulp down his drink, his adam’s apple bobbing, wanting nothing more than to prove him wrong.

The heat in the pit of her stomach had returned, and was growing until she could feel it everywhere. Her whole body was hot and it was all because of him. The handsome boy in front of her with his deep, warm eyes that constantly brought reassurance in her moments of doubt, the spotted beauty marks on his face that she wished to count and connect to form new constellations, and that hair. His dark, wild head of curls that folded in every direction, and had been tempting her to reach out and run her fingers through for weeks now. The jealousy she had felt all because of those water droplets that had clung to it that night. 

When he turned his head back toward her, he seemed to pick up on the newfound intensity in her sparkling blue eyes. He rivaled her dark scrutiny with a matching expression of his own.

“So may I?” she asked once again, her chin tilting up to signal that she was not going to relinquish this quest.

“Fine.” His retort was clipped and unfeeling, which left Anne further annoyed that he was acting childish about simply granting her this one wish.

Normally, she was not the selfish type. She was always ready to leave her work at the drop of a hat and run off to help someone in need. But not today. No, in this secluded section of Josie Pye’s garden, filled up on a little too much spiked punch, Anne Shirley-Cuthbert was bound and determined to get her way. 

She sealed the distance between them, inching forward until her knees brushed against his. Despite the fabric separating them, her skin burned hot enough that she almost stumbled backward. Quickly steadying herself, she reached out a tentative hand that ghosted along the side of his head. Anne was trying her hardest not to look at Gilbert for she had a sinking suspicion that she would know exactly what she would see if she looked into his eyes. Her hand trembled as she moved her fingertips ever so slowly along the tips of his hair.

Then she brought her fingers into his curly locks and he let out a small gasp of pent up air that she feared had come from her mouth instead because as she touched his hair lightly with one hand, her heart nearly exploded out of her chest cavity in trepidation. His silky strands were everything that she imagined and more. It was as if she were running her hands along the tall wildflowers that grew in the fields near Green Gables. She began to lightly twist a finger around a strand and she watched as it coiled gracefully to her request and then bounce back to its original form. However, one hand coursing through his luscious, sleek hair was not enough for her, and Anne raised her other hand to continue her analysis. As that hand landed on his head, Gilbert’s hands were suddenly grabbing ahold of her waist.

Anne immediately froze, her tender exploration coming to a halt as she inhaled sharply at the contact. She looked straight ahead at the green shrubbery before her and her fuzzy brain wondered if he was going to let go. He did not. Yet she would be a liar if she tried to deny that she didn’t enjoy the slight pressure his large hands were currently presenting on her waist. Reluctantly removing her hands from his hair, she brought them down to hover on top of his hands instead, still not meeting his gaze. 

That’s when she heard a whisper, barely loud enough for her ears to register, and quite desperate, “Anne.”

And for the second time that evening, the copper-haired girl was selfish and finally gave in to what she wanted, no matter how insane the desire was, her blood pumping furiously throughout her body with courage. Closing her eyes, she swiftly pressed her lips against his, sunbursts of light exploding behind her eyelids. A noise of shock bubbled out of Gilbert’s throat at first, then he was pulling her closer to him and her body was wedged between his legs quite scandalously, but when had she ever been one to care about what society deemed as proper?

Here she was, heatedly kissing the most beautiful boy she had ever met, and he was returning her advances with all of the passion and fervor she had ever dreamed of. His lips were slightly chapped, however they felt nearly as soft as his hair that her fingers had returned to, and when she pulled at it, a low moan reverberated in the back of his throat, and Anne Shirley-Cuthbert was confident that Gilbert Blythe was going to be the reason for her undoing. 

Finally pulling back, Gilbert leaned his forehead against hers and looked at her with heavy-lidded eyes. “Anne-girl,” he murmured breathlessly, a hand coming up from her waist and caressing the freckles on her cheek with his knuckles. Anne’s heart soared from hearing his affectionate nickname spoken from his lips in such a delicate manner. “I think you’ve made your point,” he added with a quirk of his lips. 

“Hmm...I’m not sure I have,” she teased lightheartedly, tugging again at the dark strands, which prompted Gilbert to go in for another stolen kiss. She ended it quickly though by pulling away from his embrace from where he sat on the bench and taking a distancing set away from him. “We should be getting back to the house. It’s getting late.” Her mind felt like it was becoming clearer. Anne would have tried to walk back by herself, but the game she had made up to find the roses had ultimately left her lost in this garden.

Gilbert could not help hiding the look of disappointment that crossed his face at her abrupt request after the moment they had shared. He rose and offered her his arm, which she accepted graciously with a placid smile, and they started in the direction from which they initially came in silence, neither seeming to know quite what to say.

“If I behaved immodestly--” she blurted out anxiously, keeping her eyes directed toward the ground. Now that the alcohol was wearing off, rational Anne, who knew how to behave in the presence of a boy, a friend, was returning.

The boy walking beside her let out an incredulous huff. “You didn’t Anne and if I did anything to lead you---”

“Absolutely not Gil,” Anne broke in vigorously, lifting her eyes to meet his with a calm assurance. As much as it pained her to say it, she added, “I think I just need some time to think and process some of the events that conspired tonight.”

Gilbert’s voice sounded tight as he hollowly agreed, “Yes, of course.” This did not do much to aid the guilt she felt in the pit of her stomach during the rest of the walk to the house. 

He did not say a word and neither did she. 

+++++

The journey back to Green Gables with him by her side was just as quiet and tense, which was very unlike them. Usually they talked far beyond their arrival at the front gate of her home, to the point where Marilla was calling for Anne to come inside the house. Tonight, Gilbert gave her a brief ‘Goodnight’ and turned in the opposite direction toward the Blythe Farm. Anne stood at the gate, watching him go until she could no longer see his broad outline, her throat feeling exceptionally dry. Not like when his lips had been dragging along hers only hours prior. She briefly considered shouting out to him and working to talk this whole situation out. Explain that she had wanted it to happen so badly. Yet he had shut himself off to her because she had hurt him by not saying more.

Here it was, the regret. She was a foolish girl, Marilla was right.

Sighing loudly, Anne opened the gate and made her way into Green Gables. She had assured Matthew and Marilla that she would be alright without them waiting up for her tonight so they were fast asleep in their beds. 

When she got to her room, she shut the door quietly and flopped down on her bed, biting down on her bottom lip, hard, in an effort to keep the tears welling up in her eyes from spilling. It was no use. All she could picture was Gilbert, Gilbert, Gilbert. The way his mouth tasted, how he made every nerve in her body act on their own accord, the noises he made because of her. 

She knew sleep would be futile tonight.

#anne with an e #awae #shirbert #shirbert ff #anne shirley cuthbert #gilbert blythe #anne x gilbert #anne with an e season 3 #no spoilers here though #i'm an utter idiot #thank you for being gracious #ellie writes

[witch-of-time-and-letters]

Fantasieherz, schöner Verstand. Pt XXIII Das Ende (R).

Memorials

 Tolkien and the characters and places from his works have become the namesake of various things around the world. These include street names, mountains, companies, species of animals and plants as well as other notable objects.

By convention, certain classes of features on Saturn's moon Titan are named after elements from Middle-earth. Colles (small hills or knobs) are named for characters, while montes (mountains) are named for mountains of Middle-earth. There are also asteroids named for Bilbo Baggins and Tolkien himself.

Three mountains in the Cadwallader Range of British Columbia, Canada, have been named after Tolkien's characters. These are Mount Shadowfax, Mount Gandalf and Mount Aragorn. On 1 December 2012, it was announced in the New Zealand press that a bid was launched for the New Zealand Geographic Board to name a mountain peak near Milford Sound after Tolkien for historical and literary reasons and to mark Tolkien's 121st birthday.

The "Tolkien Road" in Eastbourne, East Sussex, was named after Tolkien whereas the "Tolkien Way" in Stoke-on-Trent is named after Tolkien's eldest son, Fr. John Francis Tolkien, who was the priest in charge at the nearby Roman Catholic Church of Our Lady of the Angels and St. Peter in Chains. In the Hall Green and Moseley areas of Birmingham there are a number of parks and walkways dedicated to J. R. R. Tolkien—most notably, the Millstream Way and Moseley Bog. Collectively the parks are known as the Shire Country Parks. Also in Weston-super-Mare, Somerset, England there are a collection of roads in the 'Weston Village' named after locales of Middle Earth, namely Hobbiton Road, Bree Close, Arnor Close, Rivendell, Westmarch Way and Buckland Green.

In the Dutch town of Geldrop, near Eindhoven, the streets of an entire new neighbourhood are named after Tolkien himself ("Laan van Tolkien") and some of the best-known characters from his books.

In the Silicon Valley towns of Saratoga and San Jose in California, there are two housing developments with street names drawn from Tolkien's works. About a dozen Tolkien-derived street names also appear scattered throughout the town of Lake Forest, California. The Columbia, Maryland, neighbourhood of Hobbit's Glen and its street names (including Rivendell Lane, Tooks Way, and Oakenshield Circle) come from Tolkien's works.

In the field of taxonomy, over 80 taxa (genera and species) have been given scientific names honouring, or deriving from, characters or other fictional elements from The Lord of the Rings, The Hobbit, and other works set in Middle-earth.  Several taxa have been named after the character Gollum (also known as Sméagol), as well as for various hobbits, the small humanlike creatures such as Bilbo and Frodo Baggins. Various elves, dwarves, and other creatures that appear in his writings as well as Tolkien himself have been honoured in the names of several species, including the amphipod Leucothoe tolkieni, and the wasp Shireplitis tolkieni. In 2004, the extinct hominid Homo floresiensis was described, and quickly earned the nickname "hobbit" due to its small size. In 1978, Paleontologist Leigh Van Valen named over 20 taxa of extinct mammals after Tolkien lore in a single paper. In 1999, entomologist Lauri Kaila described 48 new species of Elachista moths and named 37 of them after Tolkien mythology. It has been noted that "Tolkien has been accorded formal taxonomic commemoration like no other author."

Since 2003, The Tolkien Society has organized Tolkien Reading Day, which takes place on 25 March in schools around the world.

In 2013, Pembroke College, Oxford University established an annual lecture on fantasy literature in Tolkien's honour.

Commemorative plaques

Sarehole Mill's blue plaque

The Plough and Harrow's blue plaque

There are seven blue plaques in England that commemorate places associated with Tolkien: one in Oxford, one in Bournemouth, four in Birmingham and one in Leeds. One of the Birmingham plaques commemorates the inspiration provided by Sarehole Mill, near which he lived between the ages of four and eight, while two mark childhood homes up to the time he left to attend Oxford University and the other marks a hotel he stayed at before leaving for France during World War I. The plaque in West Park, Leeds, commemorates the five years Tolkien enjoyed at Leeds as Reader and then Professor of English Language at the University. The Oxford plaque commemorates the residence where Tolkien wrote The Hobbit and most of The Lord of the Rings.

Address

Commemoration

Date unveiled

Issued by

Sarehole Mill, Hall Green, Birmingham

"Inspired"  1896–1900 (i.e. lived nearby)

15 August 2002

Birmingham  Civic Society and The Tolkien Society[225]

1 Duchess Place, Ladywood,  Birmingham

Lived near here 1902–1910

Unknown

Birmingham Civic Society[226]

4 Highfield Road, Edgbaston,  Birmingham

Lived here 1910–1911

Unknown

Birmingham  Civic Society and The Tolkien Society[227]

Plough  and Harrow, Hagley Road, Birmingham

Stayed here June 1916

June 1997

The Tolkien Society[228]

2  Darnley Road, West Park, Leeds

First academic appointment, Leeds

1 October 2012

The  Tolkien Society and the Leeds Civic Trust

20 Northmoor Road, North Oxford

Lived here 1930–1947

3 December 2002

Oxfordshire Blue Plaques Board[229]

Hotel  Miramar, East Overcliff Drive, Bournemouth

Stayed  here regularly from the 1950s until 1972

10 June 1992 by Priscilla Tolkien

Borough of Bournemouth[230]

Another two plaques marking buildings associated with Tolkien are:-

·         On a residence in Harrogate where Tolkien convalesced from trench fever in 1917.

·         On 76 Sandfield Road, Headington, Oxford, his home from 1953 to 1968.

Artwork

In 2012, Tolkien was among the British cultural icons selected by artist Sir Peter Blake to appear in a new version of his most famous artwork—the Beatles' Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band album cover—to celebrate the British cultural figures of his life that he most admires.

Autographs

Tolkien rarely signed his works, and his autograph has become highly valued by collectors.

Unlike other authors of the genre, Tolkien never favoured signing his works. Owing to his popularity, handsigned copies of his letters or of the first editions of his individual writings have however achieved high values at auctions, and forged autographs may occur on the market. In particular, the signed first hardback edition of The Hobbit from 1937 has reportedly been offered for $85,000. Collectibles also include non-fiction books with hand-written annotations from Tolkien's private library.

Canonization process

On September 2, 2017, the Oxford Oratory, Tolkien's parish church during his time in Oxford, offered its first Mass for the intention of Tolkien's cause for beatification to be opened.

A prayer was written for his cause:

O Blessed Trinity, we thank You for having graced the Church with John Ronald Reuel Tolkien and for allowing the poetry of Your Creation, the mystery of the Passion of Your Son, and the symphony of the Holy Spirit, to shine through him and his sub-creative imagination. Trusting fully in Your infinite mercy and in the maternal intercession of Mary, he has given us a living image of Jesus the Wisdom of God Incarnate, and has shown us that holiness is the necessary measure of ordinary Christian life and is the way of achieving eternal communion with You. Grant us, by his intercession, and according to Your will, the graces we implore [....], hoping that he will soon be numbered among Your saints. Amen.

#tolkien #biography #Fantasiebiography #literaturebiography

[justsomewritingsandshit]

Nothing Can Beat Home

Bilbo Baggins x Siren!Reader

Length: 1680 words

Warnings: not really, just cute!bilbo and domestic!reader, fem reader?

Requested

Hobbits were a simple race, who led very simple lives.

Their needs were little; they like to live close to the earth and nature, taking pride in their grass-covered homes and their gardens. Generally, staying away from the troubles of the ‘big people’ of Middle Earth, as well as large bodies of water (due to hobbits often not being able to swim), was how they kept such happy, simple lives. Hobbits found happiness in the simple pleasures of life. Enjoying good food, drinking good ale, smoking good pipe weed, and joining joyous gatherings were all the luxuries they needed in life.

Fitting into the Shire had been a long and arduous process for you – mostly due to you having to understand the significant physical and cultural differences between the siren people, your people, and the hobbits.

Physically, you were far taller than the hobbits (your people were classed as ‘big people’ by the hobbits), and you did not have the same hairy feet they did. Your soles weren’t as durable, either, so you confused the residents of Hobbiton by wearing soft, leather-made slippers when out and about. They didn’t understand how you could be confined like that, but then you didn’t truly understand why they took such efforts to groom their feet – but ultimately decided it must be more to do with the culture they have created for themselves.

Culturally, hobbits were quite solitary. They claimed that they were happier staying out of the goings on in Middle Earth. As such, they typically avoided leaving the Shire – so they definitely found your need to roam the land quite odd. Often, rumours and hearsay about you could be heard in the markets and taverns of the Shire, there was plenty to say of Bilbo Baggins’ wife and her un-hobbitlike behaviour. But a siren, like a hobbit, is connected to the earth and to nature, but more so rivers, lakes, and the sea, all of which reside no-where near Hobbiton – so, you did a lot of travelling.

Despite your genetic disposition to often roam to the nearest body of water, nothing could top the feeling you get when you re-entered the Shire, which was now your home. Not to mention the complete joy you felt as you stood at the familiar (but freshly re-painted) green hobbit-hole door. The Baggins’ home, aptly named Bag End, was famous in Hobbiton, as it was carved by Bilbo’s father, Bungo, decades ago, as gift for his bride, Belladonna Took – quite the declaration for a mere hobbit.

Normally, there was only silence, or the sound of Bilbo muttering to himself as he cleaned, to be heard in the hobbit-hole. However, this evening there was plenty of noise (specifically voices) emanating from within the home, which was very odd considering your husband Bilbo was not the type to entertain guests so late into the night. He strictly believed in ‘quiet time’, by this time of night.

“Hello?” You called out as you stepped into your home, quickly closing the door behind you, all the whilst wondering what on Middle Earth was going on. “Bilbo?” Where there had been nothing but noise, there was now only silence. “Bill?” You called out your personal nickname for your husband, suddenly quite worried.

“Who are you?” The gruff voice that accosted you, emerged from within the body of a balding dwarf who suddenly appeared to the left. He looked at you, judging your tall frame, and your elf-made clothing, before he suddenly had a short dagger pointed at you. “What is an elf doing at a secret dwarrow meeting?” Why would there be a secret dwarrow meeting, in the Shire? What was wrong with the mountains that dwarves resided in?

Two voiced rang out, calling the name “Dwalin!”, one reprimanding and unfamiliar, the other panicked and known to you. Bilbo scampered towards you, quickly followed by a white-haired dwarf, with shock and fright slapped onto his face, “Y/N!” He came towards you, bravely placing his tiny body between your own and the dwarf’s dagger. That was your husband, sweet and brave (no matter how little he believed so).

All of the commotion between the four of you, had caused twelve other dwarves to exit from the dining room. They all swarmed into the entrance hall, trailed by a tall, elderly man draped in grey robes – who could possibly be the famous grey wizard, Mithrandir. Despite being completely surrounded now, what you focused on wasn’t the number of dwarves around you, or the weapons they held, or even the hostile looks that they threw towards you – really, what your mind had zeroed in on, was the fact they were all wearing muddy travelling boots! They’d tracked mud all through your home!

Bilbo tried to take a hold of the situation as best he could, which was by demanding the dwarf to lower his weapon, “It’s quite unnecessary, Master Dwalin!” He spluttered out, “I-I demand you lower your weapon!” Your sweet hobbit flapped his hands, frantically trying to get the dwarf to listen to him. The dwarf did not listen, or obey Bilbo’s demands.

Silence was beginning to crowd the atmosphere of the entrance hall.

Unexpectedly, one of the dwarves from the group lumbered forward. There was a sense of majesty oozing from his being, that wasn’t present in the other dwarves. It felt like his every movement was majestic. Said dwarf had dark hair, and didn’t seem as old as some of the other dwarves, but also not as young as some of them, either. Also, he wore a lovely shade of blue. Vaguely, you thought about asking him where he purchased the garment, because it looked lovely and well-crafted.

Any sense of regal-ness he emitted was very much marred by his angry looking scowl, which he seemed to be sending to both your husband and the elderly man (who, was possibly the Mithrandir some of your elvish friends have mentioned). Honestly, you wondered why this dwarf seemed simultaneously royal, and undiplomatic. “Gandalf, why does your hobbit thief protect an elf?” He levelled a disgusted look at you, which wasn’t as frightening to you, as he would think it was. Rather, his looks and question only sent you further into a rage.

“I am not an elf, thank you very much!” and “How dare you speak of my wife in such a manner!” were spluttered out at the same time. Bilbo was wagging his finger at the dwarf who had insulted you, his face very much becoming the colour of one of his prized tomatoes.

Dwalin, the dwarf who quickly put away his weapon at the mention that you happened to be the lady of this house, grunted towards you, “You look like an elf, and you dress as one too!” Was he trying to defend his preposterous actions towards you?

“Tell me Master Dwarf, if I dressed as a rabbit, and hopped around for a bit, would you assume me an animal? Would you hunt and gut me for your dinner?” Bilbo shot you a look, his wide-eyes telling you to stop being so sarcastic to those who had just held you at the end of their dagger. Ignoring his look of fear, you gazed down at your husband, “Bilbo, what is going on here?” You waved your hand at the large group, “Who are all these dwarves? And, why haven’t they been courteous and removed their muddy shoes at our door, like all other guests are required to do?” Some of the dwarves looked rightfully told-off. As they should, your floors were filthy!

“I am terribly sorry for such a mess, young miss. Please excuse our actions, I was entirely unaware that Bilbo had married” The elderly man looked just as chastised as some of the younger-looking dwarves did (probably because he, too, still wore his muddy shoes). “I am Gandalf the Grey.” Oh, he was the infamous wizard! “Pray tell is your name, my lady?”

Despite not being used such formal words, you managed to collect yourself, and swiftly informed them all of your name. “I am Y/N Baggins, wife of Bilbo Baggins, lady of Bag End, and former member of the Seiren.” It felt unfamiliar to refer to yourself in such a manner, as you hadn’t had to formally introduce yourself in years – not since your first entry into the Shire.

“A siren?” Gandalf’s eyes twinkled, as if truly amused by such news. “How does a siren come to live in the Shire, so far from water?” The dwarves, that still huddled too close to you, looked puzzled by Gandalf’s words. You assumed they did not know what a ‘siren’ was, which was understandable, many people knew nothing of your people. They were rumoured to be as secretive as dwarves, ironically enough.

Your answer to the wizard’s question was short, “Love, Mister Gandalf.” Normally, you would have accepted to talk in circles with him, but you found yourself slightly too drained. “Now, I have travelled long and far, and would very much enjoy refreshing myself, before any discussions shall take place.” You crouched down, bringing yourself to the same height as your husband, now ignoring all others in the hall, “I shall go do that, but I expect a full explanation of the goings-on when I return.” Bilbo looked worried, as if he feared your reaction to what he would tell you. Deciding that you did not like such a look on him, you quickly distracted him. You leaned towards him, sultrily whispering into his ear, “I missed you, husband.” And, before he could protest at the company that would witness, you pressed a soft kiss to his smaller lips, promises of later left unsaid, but very much visible to him.

As you walked away, sauntering off to your and Bilbo’s shared bedroom, a young-sounding voice muttered out, “How did you find such a woman?” Awe lined every word spoken.

Several chuckles and Bilbo’s squeak of embarrassment followed the question, easily sending your small smile into a full-blown grin. Yes, nothing could beat the feeling of being home again.

TAGGED:

@iamwarrenspeace, @stilesloverdaily, @itsnotnormalteen

#requested #bilbo baggins #bilbobaggins #bilbo x reader #bilbo baggins x reader #bilbo #hobbit #the hobbit #lord of the rings #LOTR #martin freeman #reader #reader insert #readerinsert #fem!reader #the hobbit imagine #lotr imagine #lord of the rings imagine #hobbit imagine #bilbo baggins imagine #bilbo imagine