#little lord linden

[acourtofwhatthefuck]

Fireleaf (Part Four)

Lucien Vanserra x Reader

Part One - Part Two - Part Three -

As always, I am incredibly grateful for @greeneyedivy and her help AND patience with me lmao

Warnings: None for this part!

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“I decided I wanted to train after a young girl in our territory was attacked by a group of males.”

Three days later, Dion gently held your hand as the two of you strolled through the orchard at the back of the Vanserra Estate, Barric always remaining mere feet away. The sounds and smells of the festival reached out to you from across the sprawling green; a constant reminder that you were only halfway through the second week, and days of posturing still lay ahead.

“Did you know her?” Dion asked, his thumb brushing the back of your hand. “The girl?”

You shook your head. “Not really. Only that she was the younger sister of a female I took my schooling with. But I think it hitting so close to home was what made the decision for me. I knew that if I ever, the Mother forbid, found myself in that situation…I didn’t want to be unable to defend myself. And a good friend to our family is a master swordsman, so I knew I need only ask and he would help. I found that him teaching me gave me purpose.”

And now your only purpose was to be a submissive bride – something that turned your stomach. It was undoubtedly risky, having this conversation with Barric so near…information that he could report back to the High Lord…but you found it gave you a little slither of satisfaction to push those barriers. And Dion seemed utterly invested in your stories, anyway.

“The swordsman,” He said, “that was the male I saw you training with that day on your estate?”

A smile lifted your lips as you thought of Linden. His brown skin and dark, kind eyes. The way his long hair was always so perfectly, intricately braided, and he would twist those braids into a knot atop of his head whenever you got down to the fun bits of your training. His quiet, assessing nature – forever contrasted by the wicked sense of humour, the ability to wrangle a laugh from you on even your worst days. You missed him. So much, it hurt.

“That was him.” You nodded. “He’s a good friend.”

Dion’s eyes seem to study your face, his hand idly swinging yours. You wondered what he was thinking, what he might say — until Barric stepped closer.

“We should head back to the festival.” He said. “You don’t want to raise any eyebrows by sneaking off so much.”

Dion’s head fell into a playful tilt, a wicked grin playing on his lips. “Did we sneak, Y/N?”

You snorted, mirroring him. “I don’t recall sneaking.”

Barric rolled his eyes. He seemed to be growing tired of the habit you and Dion had developed of tormenting him. Only yesterday, the two of you had launched into a run whilst Barric hadn’t been looking, and hid inside one of the estate’s disused barns. It had taken the advisor forty minutes to find you — and he wasn’t best pleased when he did.

“Let’s just go before people begin speculating about what the two of you are up to.” Barric said, striding ahead.

Dion was still laughing as he laced your fingers together and pulled you along. It was only when you’d emerged from the orchard, halfway across the lawn, the festival once more in sight, that he pulled you to a stop again. Barric was accosted by a passing courtier, and Dion took the opportunity to speak without guarding himself.

“You know,” His voice was deep, quiet, his brown eyes staring into yours, “I’m very much looking forward to when I actually get your company…alone.”

You gazed up at him, your cheeks reddening just slightly. It was probably the most forward he’d been with you, and you weren’t quite sure what to say in response. But then he was turning, tugging on your hand once more.

“Come on.” He grinned. “There’s a dagger-throwing game over there. Show me what you can do before anyone swarms us.”

You followed, your cheeks still heated.

⤲

One more. You had only one more target to hit, and it’d be a full house.

These games were notoriously hard. Enchanted so that the targets moved lightning-fast, it would take a skilled marksman to strike true on one, let alone all of them.

And that was where all those gruelling training sessions with Linden came in handy. Dion was grinning like a Cheshire Cat beside you.

You planted your feet – levelled your stance and focused your gaze. The target whizzed by before you once, twice, but you were waiting for the moment it felt right to strike, trusting your gut. A few spectators had stopped to gawk at you – a fact you knew you’d probably regret later, if it got back to your parents, or Beron, but – currently, none of the three were in sight. And you were having fun.

“Hit this last target,” Dion said quietly at your shoulder, “and I’ll marry you on the spot.”

You snorted, your cheeks tinging with pink. “Don’t distract me.”

“Sorry, Lady.” The grin in his voice didn’t make him sound very sorry at all.

You pursed your lips. Narrowed your eyes. The other five targets continued to move, daggers protruding from their centres. You were unblinking from the very last one that remained unhit.

It whizzed past in a flash – and you struck. A wide grin tugged at your lips as the dagger cartwheeled towards it, its point lodging right in the centre. The male tending the stall blinked at you, his eyes flickering from your hands, to the targets, back to your hands – looking for any indication that you’d used magic and cheated.

He would find none. The only magic that had aided you was Linden’s flawless training.

“Holy Gods,” Dion came to stand in front of you, his eyes glinting, his grin lupine. “Remind me not to get on your bad side.”

You couldn’t help matching the wide smile that lit up his face so beautifully. The last few days, it had consistently been like this – in his company, anyway. Fun. Distracting. You almost forgot that you hadn’t chosen this for yourself.

“Incredible.” He murmured, his hand brushing yours.

“Pick a prize.” The male behind the stall said, gesturing vaguely to the bizarre mishmash of prizes behind him. The slight pinch in his expression made you wonder how often he actually parted with them. “Any prize.”

Your eyes roved over the items crowding the shelves behind him; cheap jewellery and good-luck charms that probably had no luck to them whatsoever, painted masks and garlands intertwined with potent herbs, a row of bottles housing various different drinks…and food. Little paper bags holding sweets and chocolates and tarts and nuts.

“A bag of the honey-roasted plums.” You said, shooting a grin at Dion. “For your sweet tooth.”

The way his eyes flashed…it was like you’d offered him the entire world up on a platter. Like nobody had ever truly gifted him something before – even a bag of honey-roasted plums, magicked to stay fresh. Grabbing your hand boldly, he dug into his pocket and produced a coin, chucking it to the vendor.

“Throw in a couple of bottles of that cider,” His smile was so charming, the vendor accepted the coin right away, turning straight to the shelves behind him. “Thank you.”

As you waited, you couldn’t help studying him – the male you were engaged to wed. Had it really only been a week and a half since you’d arrived? It was strange, but…you just felt so comfortable. Like you were merely holidaying here, spending your days with an old friend who made you laugh, who you could talk to for hours. He made it…easy.

But you were no fool. The festivities would be over with a final bonfire night in two days, the estate emptying of the many people who had crowded it every day for the last two weeks. The stalls would be gone, and the distractions gone with them – and the atmosphere would change, no doubt. Your wedding planning would begin.

“Where did you go?” Dion’s fingers gently flicked your forehead. His eyes stared warmly down at you. “I lost you for a second there.”

You shook out of your thoughts. Shook your head. “Zoned out. I’m–”

“Damn. All six targets?”

The two of you turned to find Lucien behind you, staring at the stall, the daggers that had hit every mark.

You hadn’t seen him since the other night, when he’d saved you from walking straight into the waiting jaws of that Autumn Court creature. And you were glad, too, considering there was nothing at all pleasant about speaking to the youngest Vanserra.

Well – aside of his scent, that immediately hit you right then, just as potent as it had been three nights before; earthy and stark and fucking delicious. And his golden skin, such a different shade to that of his brothers’. His hair that he preferred to leave unbound, whereas the others habitually tied theirs back. The brown of his eyes that was slightly darker, deeper, than theirs. The way one cheek dimpled when he spoke—

“I see you’ve improved your aim, brother,” Lucien spoke solely to Dion, not even glancing at you. “It only took you…what? Over a century?”

“Me?” Dion snorted. “I didn’t throw those, Loosh. As much as I’d love to take the credit, I can’t. It was all Y/N.”

There was no missing the way Lucien blinked, his gaze darting to you, his lips slightly parting. But you barely let your eyes flit over him as you turned back to the vendor, accepting the items he handed you, and angling yourself towards Dion.

“Come on,” You said, handing him one of the bottles. “Let’s find somewhere to drink these.”

With a warm smile, Dion clapped his brother on the shoulder as the two of you passed. You didn’t bother to shoot Lucien your own smile – didn’t see the point.

Within the seconds, the mass of people roaming the lawn was swallowing you and Dion up. He grabbed your hand, lacing your fingers together as you headed for the quieter sprawl of green, nearer to the trees.

And you couldn’t be sure, but…you could have sworn you felt an intense pair of russet eyes burning holes into your back the entire way.

⤲

The sun was pleasantly warm, even with the autumn chill in the air. You and Dion sat with your backs against the tree, talking around mouthfuls of honey-roasted plums and the apple-and-toffee cider he’d bought.

“I believed you when you said you’d trained,” Dion said, digging into the small paper bag that had held the plums. He split the last one in half, handing one half to you. “But I didn’t expect you to be that good.”

You playfully rolled your eyes – but still blushed at the compliment. “It was just a festival game. I’m hardly on my way to being a skilled swordwielder.”

“You hit the third target without looking.” His eyes glittered. “I’d love to see what you can do with a sword. We’ll have to spar sometime.”

You laughed softly, eyes darting to the half-empty bottle in your hands. “I don’t think our parents would approve.”

“Surely your parents knew you were training with that male – Linden? Did they not approve then?”

Gods, how were you supposed to explain that your parents were simply…entirely different people back then? That once upon a time, they hadn’t cared whether you wanted to be a simpering bride or an unmarried female who dedicated her life to protecting people – all they’d wanted was for you to be healthy, to be happy. It seemed so long ago, now. You missed the days when you’d flounce home, dripping with sweat, heaving heavy breaths, your muscles sore and bruised, and your mother would merely roll her eyes affectionately and tell you to get in the bath.

You weren’t sure you wanted to talk about it. Weren’t sure you were ready to. But before you could admit that, the two of you were interrupted by the sudden invasion of raised, aggravated voices.

“I told you!” Willow’s voice reached you as she stormed through a copse of trees, her husband hot on her trail. “I specifically told you that I wouldn’t tolerate that. Did you think I was joking?”

Both you and Dion watched as they emerged. Your shoulders stiffened at the dark look of ire on Isaac’s face. You carefully placed your drink aside, readying to jump in. Neither of them seemed to have noticed the two of you were there.

“You’re overreacting,” Isaac spat. “As always. If I wanted to be coddled like this, I would have stayed at home with my mother and not married you.”

Willow pivoted abruptly to face him. “If I’m so bad, Isaac, go ahead and marry that fucking mistress. Believe me, I’m past caring what you and that pathetic excuse for a cock get up to.”

Isaac grabbed her so fast, so hard, you barely had a chance to register the movement before he was shoving her to the ground. “You foul-mouthed bitch–”

“Hey!” Within seconds, Dion was off the ground.

Within seconds, he was launching himself at your brother-in-law, grabbing him by the front of his shirt.

“Keep your gods-damn hands to yourself.” He spat – and Isaac had the good sense to look scared. “You think it’s acceptable to put your hands on her? Why don’t you go ahead and try it with me? Go ahead, Isaac – hit me.”

“Back off,” Isaac attempted to push him away – but faltered when Dion didn’t budge an inch. Even he wasn’t stupid enough to go head-to-head with a Vanserra.

You pushed your shock away long enough to scramble to your feet and hurry over to Willow, who was shifting onto her knees and rubbing dirt and pine needles from her hands. You knelt beside her, trying to ignore the growing, roaring rage inside your head as you pulled her close.

“He’s drunk.” Willow said to Dion, shooting a look of pure disgust at her husband. “I wouldn’t bother.”

“He’s a piece of shit, is what he is.” Finally, Dion released his firm grip from the front of Isaac’s shirt, sending him falling backwards. “Let me make something very clear to you, asshole. I’m going to arrange transport, and you’re going to get the fuck away from my family’s estate. You’re not welcome here again – and don’t even look at Willow. She isn’t coming with you. Do you understand?”

Isaac’s jaw clenched – but he knew what power Dion had. Knew that he was absolutely no match for the second-eldest son of the High Lord. He nodded resolutely, daring a glance at Willow.

“Get the fuck out of here, Isaac.” You snapped. “If you ever lay a finger on my sister again, I’ll make sure you regret it.”

The pathetic male rose to his feet, swaying on the spot. “You’re really not coming, Willow?”

Willow didn’t so much as glance at him. “I will travel home with my family at the end of the festival. And I’ll speak to you when I’m ready. Leave.”

He hesitated, looked like he wanted to argue, but – not with Dion there. You had no doubt that it’d be an entirely different matter if it were just you and Willow alone.

Muttering beneath his breath, he stormed off. Dion’s chest was heaving as he watched him, his eyes coloured with a darkness that hadn’t been there moments before. Whatever it was…you had a feeling it was personal. Something he needed to deal with on his own.

“Are you hurt?” You turned back to Willow, removing a few pine needles from the strands of her hair.

“No,” She shook her head. “He didn’t push me that hard.”

“He shouldn’t push you at all.” Dion’s voice was lethally quiet, utterly cutting, as he turned to both of you. In the week and a half that you’d spent with him, you’d only ever heard the tuneful lilt he always spoke with.

Willow chewed her lip, staring wide-eyed up at him. “Thank you – for stepping in. I really appreciate it.”

He swallowed, his eyes shuttering. Dipped his chin. And then tautly ground out, “I’ll go arrange the transport to get him the fuck out of here.”

Without another glance at you, he strode off, his body rigid, his face shadowed by…something. He wasn’t the relaxed, laughing male he’d been moments before. You and Willow both stared after him.

“Is he alright?” She asked softly.

Honestly, you didn’t know – but it wasn’t for her to worry about. You brushed the remaining dirt from her hands, helping her to her feet. “I’m sure he will be. Come on – let’s get some tea.”

But she was still staring after him – not Isaac, but Dion. Her wide, blue eyes lingering on where his figure had retreated. Her lips were slightly parted, her brows pinched.

“He’s…kind.” She said softly, as though such a thing – a kind male – were an alien concept.

“He is.” You nodded, linking your arm through hers. “This way.”

She followed, not saying another word. And perhaps it was just the shock…something that needed to subside...but the way she kept looking over her shoulder didn’t seem to be in fear. It took you a while to work it out, as you led her through the manor and arranged some sweet, hot tea to settle her nerves.

She was looking around in utter awe.

Looking around for Dion.

⤲

Your good mood was borne entirely of relief. And perhaps with a little helping of wine.

Finally, you’d reached the last day of the festival. Multiple bonfires had been built, ready for lighting. Huge wooden kegs of ale and cider and wine had been lined up, and cheery music echoed through the night from the small circle of musicians playing nearby.

The atmosphere, you had to admit, was brilliant. But for you – bittersweet.

You were looking forward to some quiet. To not having to slap a smile on and float around, talking to strangers all day. But it had also been the one obstacle between you and your wedding planning.

After tonight, that obstacle would be gone. You would have nothing else to cling to, nowhere else you could hide from it.

But you were trying to enjoy yourself as you accepted the drinks Dion brought you, and the two of you floated amongst the dancers and revellers, the people circling the pyres, the familiar faces of people you’d seen many times over the past couple of weeks.

The shadow that had passed over Dion after the run-in with Isaac had lingered for the rest of that day, but he’d risen the following morning with the light returned to his eyes — and even apologised to you that you’d had to see him like that. You hadn’t hesitated to tell him that he had nothing to apologise for; that you were grateful beyond words, that he’d stepped in and defended your sister without a second thought.

And Willow, you knew, was just as grateful. Perhaps more so. Isaac had left the estate that same day, and it was like a weight had been lifted from Willow’s shoulders. Over the next two days, she was the happiest, the lightest you’d seen her, since she’d arrived. It was just a crying shame that she was only beginning to enjoy herself at the end of the festival.

But tonight, there was no room for bad feelings. You nursed your wine and watched the musicians transition from one song to the next, each one seeming to become more frenzied and upbeat, coaxing people to dance. The bonfires burned as brilliantly as the flashes of Vanserra hair around you, and the crisp, smoky smell of them shoved its way up your nose, reminding you of—

Your eyes flicked around the crowded area. You weren’t sure why you searched for Lucien’s presence — why you were even bothered about whether or not he was here.

A soft smile pulled at your lips as you glimpsed Willow throwing her head back, an unguarded laugh leaving her lips at something Dion had said to her. It pleased you beyond words — seeing your sister enjoy herself like that.

Because when your family all left tomorrow morning and travelled back to your — their — territory…when they left you behind, here, in your new home — you didn’t know when you might next see them. When you might next hear Willow laugh.

Perhaps at your wedding. The thought was enough to have you draining your wine chalice and turning back to the keg.

And standing there, face pinched in concentration as she filled her own challice up, was a familiar girl. Blonde and pretty. It took a moment for you to place her, to remember where you’d seen her before.

Being shoved against a tree. Lucien Vanserra’s hungry hands roaming her, his lips bruising hers.

You didn’t know her. You hadn’t even spoken to her over the course of the festival. And what she was to Lucien — what the two of them got up to — was absolutely none of your business.

So it didn’t exactly make sense to you, why your curiosity piqued. Why you found yourself strolling over to her.

She looked up immediately, a polite, reserved smile on her lips, and stepped away from the keg. Made room for you.

“Hi.” You said — and immediately felt foolish. “I’m Y/N.”

“I know.” The girl smiled. She was truly radiant, her hair like a golden halo around her head, a complexion that reminded you of strawberries and cream. “I mean—you’re Dion’s fiancée. I’ve seen you around. I’m Tansy.”

“Nice to meet you, Tansy.” You pulled your now-full chalice away from the keg, taking a great gulp. “Are you here with someone?”

A husband, maybe? Or someone you had a quick fumble in the forest with? How old even are you?

Gods. You needed to get a grip of yourself. Your curiosity was…bizarre. Entirely misplaced and inappropriate. You didn’t know Lucien Vanserra. What he got up to was of no concern to you.

You were just…looking for leverage. To use against him, should you need it.

Yes. That was totally it.

Tansy smiled, taking a far more delicate sip of her wine. “My family are around here somewhere.”

“Do you know the Vanserras well?” You asked. Am I going to be seeing more of you around here?

“Quite well. My father has worked for the High Lord for many years, overseeing and appointing the members of his official guard. It’s mostly Lucien I know, though — because we’re of similar age.”

Right. An important position in Beron’s court that required someone he trusted, had faith in. And probably meant that the two families were relatively close, also. You wondered if that night you’d seen Tansy and Lucien together had been a first, or a recurring situation—

“Will I get to see you around much?” You found yourself blurting; could have kicked yourself for it. “Perhaps we can be—friends.”

Tansy blinked — clearly hadn’t been expecting you to say that, of all things. “I’m not here too often. Our estate is around an hour away. But we visit sometimes, for holidays and such…”

“Well.” You smiled. “Perhaps when you do visit, we can get to know each other better.” If you’re not too busy with Lucien.

Tansy smiled back at you. “I’d like that.”

As you wished her an enjoyable night and strode away, you couldn’t help feeling a lick of…shame. That the entire conversation had been somewhat disingenuous…that you’d really been angling for information you didn’t have any right to. You weren’t a mean, petty person who wielded saccharine smiles to get whatever you wanted. Tansy hadn’t done anything to deserve a minor interrogation from you.

What did it matter, after all, how well she knew Lucien Vanserra? Or whether they’d fucked once or one hundred times?

Why did it prick at you uncomfortably that Tansy knew the elusive Lucien Vanserra, when you’d got nothing from him but sharp words wrapped up in mocking tones and cutting smiles?

Because he was a mystery — that was why. Because you knew nothing of him, found him puzzling. No doubt, if you were to get to know him somehow, to glean some of his personality behind the unpleasantries he’d thrown your way so far, your curiosity would fizzle out.

Probably.

“Care for a dance?”

A warm hand enclosed around your own, and you were tugged round to find Eris Vanserra towering over you. His hair — shorter than that of his brothers — seemed to burn brighter in the glow of the firelight. Those wicked, amber eyes of his were always alert, always gleaming. Always looking like he was forever one step ahead, privy to information that others weren’t.

You glanced over at Dion unsurely, finding him still leaning down and engrossed in conversation with Willow. You supposed it wouldn’t hurt to get to know your future brother-in-law a bit more. And with Dion making an effort with your sister…

“I‘ll dance with you.” You agreed, taking Eris’s arm. “Lead the way.”

He did — escorting you over to the sea of moving bodies, a plethora of people who had been taught the art of dancing from the moment they could stand on their own two feet. You all moved as expertly as one another — all would have received the same training, the intense priming for these very events. You dipped into the knowledge you had tucked away, reminding yourself of the gruelling dance lessons you’d endured alongside your sisters. Allowed Eris to pull you around with just as much precision and grace.

It was halfway through the second dance, neither of you showing any signs of stopping, that he grinned wickedly down at you and said, “She expects to be his bride one day.”

You frowned — twirled in his arms — directed that frown up at him. “Pardon me?”

“Tansy.” He tilted his head. “I saw you speaking with her. She expects to one day be Lucien’s bride.”

“Why are you telling me this?”

He spun you around again. Smirked. “Why do you think I’m telling you this?”

“…because you’re a busybody gossip?”

He snorted. “Fair. But what else am I to do, whilst waiting to become High Lord, besides observe and gossip?” He leaned down, his breath brushing the shell of your ear. His scent was much like his brothers’ — earthy and gritty. Pleasantly raw. “It’s surprising what you see when you truly peel your eyes and observe. Quite an enthralling habit — I’d really recommend it.”

“I’m sure.” Your voice was dry, something — some tiny thing — twisting inside of you. “But I still don’t understand why you’re telling me about Tansy. Why should I care what Lucien does or doesn’t do?”

The lively rush of the current song came to a close, making way for a chorus of cheers and applause from the audience that stood nearby. The other dancers around you slowed — as did you and Eris. He twirled you around once more, setting you on your feet. His eyes stared down into yours.

“Why, indeed.” He murmured with a calculated smirk, and lifted your hand to press a kiss to the backs of your fingers. “Thank you for the dances, love.”

Just like that, he was striding away from you, his mere, dominating presence commanding eyes to lock on him in whichever direction he went.

You, too, stared. Scowled.

You needed more wine.

⤲

“I’m going to stay with Mama and Papa for a while.”

The next morning, Willow clutched your hands in her own. You’d already said your terse goodbyes to the rest of your family and watched them climb into their carriages — your parents shooting you warning glances while they disappeared into theirs.

“I think that’s for the best.” Beside you, Dion inclined his chin. He reached out, gently clasping Willow’s arm. “You’re always welcome here.”

“Thank you—for your kindness.” She dipped her head. “Both of you.”

But it was Dion’s kindness, you knew, that had put the light there, that now shone in her eyes. Whatever he’d said to her over the last couple of days…whatever it was about his warm company…it had been a tonic for Willow. One that gave her the bravery she needed to climb into the carriage.

“Write to me as soon as you get home.” You said, not letting go of her hand. “And come visit again soon. Please.”

“I will. I promise.” Willow smiled softly. She squeezed your hand, kissed it quickly, then pulled away. Her eyes slid to Dion’s. Lingered there. “Goodbye, then.”

Dion smiled at her gently, placing a hand at the small of your back. “We’ll see you soon.”

Such promise laced in those words…you knew he meant them. And that was another reason for you to be grateful. He would travel to your family’s territory and collect Willow, himself, if it helped you to feel better about being here.

It was a comfort. A small one.

The carriages lurched into motion — and so did your heart, painfully squeezing inside of your chest as you watched them, one after the other, being pulled along by your family’s horses.

It felt…strange — to not be going with them. To be left behind. And as they began to descend the long, winding path out of the estate, and Willow leaned out of the window to wave at you once more, you were surprised to find a tear rolling down your cheek.

It was like…watching that one, final piece of your old life wither away. Watching any remaining scraps of freedom dying with it.

Clearly misreading your emotion, Dion squeezed your hand. “She’ll be alright. I’m sure of it.”

You weren’t in the mood to explain that your emotions were made up of more selfish reasons — that panic was bleating inside of you that there was no longer any escapism, no avoiding the inevitable. No game stalls or bonfires or bottles of cider and honey-roasted plums.

You had a duty laying on your shoulders. And today was the first day of honouring it.

“It’s cold.” Dion murmured softly. “Shall we go inside?”

You nodded. There was no point lingering on the front steps of the manor — not now your family’s carriages had disappeared into the trees, and only the distant echoes of the horses’ hooves against the path remained.

So you followed Dion on up the steps, feeling as though you were forcing your feet to move forward as the two of you made your way inside, the warmth of the manor enveloping you.

“I’ll make you some tea.” He pulled on your hand so, so gently. “I think there are some little cakes, too, freshly baked this morning.”

“That would be lovely. Thank you.” You knew your answering smile was watery, unconvincing, but you tried, all the same — tried to make as much of an effort as Dion himself was.

The two of you were just heading to the tea room, strolling along in a heavy silence, when Barric appeared seemingly out of nowhere. He nodded a polite greeting to you, before focusing his attention solely on Dion.

“The High Lord wishes to speak with you.” He said.

Dion hesitated, not letting go of your hand. “Can’t it wait?”

“I’m afraid not.” Barric shook his head, shooting you another glance as he merely explained, “Official business.”

“It’s fine.” You let go of Dion’s hand. Took a step back. It was probably best for you to be alone, right now, anyway. “You go.”

Releasing a soft sigh, Dion nodded. He leaned down, pressing a quick kiss to your temple. “I’ll come and find you when I’m finished. Make sure you eat something.”

You didn’t feel like eating anything, but you didn’t imagine voicing that would do you any favours. He’d already fussed that you’d declined all food offered to you so far that day.

So you nodded, wrapping your arms around yourself and watching as Dion followed Barric through a doorway, the door shutting firmly behind them.

And then it was just you. And your feelings.

⤲

You were churned up beyond words. Restless. Every passing second seemed to rub it right in your face — the dawning realisation that the life you once knew was over.

That this — all of this; the manor, the gowns, the posturing — this was all you had now. All you were now.

You tried to wait for Dion like you were expected to. Tried to sit quietly and read. But none of the words were going in, and you found yourself rereading the same sentences over and over. Found the tea you were drinking tasted sour and unpleasant in your mouth. You couldn’t stop fidgeting, needing to move—

You needed an outlet. Something to help you work through your emotions, your frustration. In your old life, you would have sought out Linden by now and sparred until you were sweating and aching, but clearer in your mind.

You wouldn’t ordinarily allow yourself to get to this level of restlessness, where you felt like screaming and throwing something across the room.

You launched yourself out of your seat, heading through the glass doors to the garden. It wasn’t a pleasant day to be outside — cold and overcast, no hint of sunlight to warm you, and the very light dress you were wearing certainly didn’t help. You wrapped your arms around yourself as you began a brisk walk around the green, happy to put distance between yourself and the gods-damn manor.

You didn’t want to go into the woods. Didn’t want to risk stumbling across Lucien Vanserra lounging against a tree with his hair flowing beautifully about him. In a mood like this one, you didn’t trust yourself not to truly let rip and say something you’d later regret.

So you headed to the far gathering of outbuildings that Dion had vaguely gestured to when he’d shown you around the estate — ones he’d said would be of keen interest to you — if Beron ever allowed you to explore them.

And curious at heart, it was only a matter of time before you were bound to find yourself out here. You’d already spied — once, through a brief glimpse — what was inside that middle building. The Vanserra armoury.

It was the most brilliant armoury you’d ever seen. Covered wall-to-wall in centuries’ worth of collected weapons. Every sword and knife and dagger you could possibly think of was hung up in there, polished and ready for use. Some weapons you didn’t even know the names of. A whole arsenal of beautiful, expertly-crafted work. You hadn’t found an appropriate moment to yourself to venture in there unseen. Until now.

You inched the door open, slipping inside. The sight was as breathtaking as the first time you’d seen it. You knew Linden would love it.

The roaring in your head became a quiet, dull monotone as you slowly traipsed the room, studying each and every piece on show. You reached out to some, brushing your fingers over the hilts, wondering what kind of combat their blades had engaged in, how many times they’d struck true. Your eyes snagged on a wooden training sword laid out on a table, and a smile tugged at your lips, memories of your early days of training pelting you—

“You shouldn’t be in here.”

You jumped, swivelling to find Lucien leaning against the doorframe, his arms crossed over his chest, the broad muscles poking through his white shirt. He appraised you, raising an eyebrow.

You levelled a blank gaze on him, the ire inside you twinging. “Why not.”

“Because,” He stepped inside, “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but there are a lot of sharp, pointy things in here, and you might hurt yourself.”

You snorted. “Oh really?”

“Really. This is an armoury, not a festival game. One slice with one of these swords, and your insides will be outside.”

You stared at him, your nails biting into your palms. It would be so, so easy to rip into him — to unleash two weeks worth of frustration, and suffocation, on him. You were certainly in the mood to, and he would certainly deserve it, with his general behaviour towards you.

But the satisfaction of a verbal lashing would be short-lived. Not to mention, you didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of knowing that he’d got on your nerves.

So you turned away from him. And what possessed you to pick up the sword from the table, to weigh it in your hand and feel the pleasant bite of its heaviness, you didn’t know.

But that same spark of something had you turning on Lucien. Had you setting your jaw and saying, “Show me.”

Immediately, he snorted. “What?”

“Come on.” You shrugged. “If I’m such a silly, clueless little girl, grab one of those training swords and spar with me. Show me everything I don’t know.”

Those stunning, russet eyes flicked over you, calculating and yet unsure. As though he couldn’t quite decide whether or not you were serious. You gestured with the sword to push your point — the feel of it familiar, like an old friend.

“…I’m not sparring with you.” He stepped away, his eyebrows raised. “Put that down.”

You tilted your head, flicking your wrist and twirling the wooden sword easily in your hand — a fun, showy trick Linden had shown you. “Why not? I know you don’t like me, but I trust you not to actually hurt me.”

His eyes narrowed on that little trick. “Y/N—”

“Come on.” You brushed past him. Didn’t give him room to argue. “Grab one of those swords. Humour me. I even promise to stay out of your way afterwards.”

There was the tiniest pause — and then Lucien was cursing under his breath. You smirked to yourself, knowing damn well you’d worn him down, even as you kept your back to him and stepped out into the chill air.

Seconds later, Lucien was emerging, also clutching the hilt of a wooden sword. You willed your eyes not to snag on the brilliant flash of his hair. The intense, beautiful expression on his face.

He looked like a piece of art.

He approached you, studying the readying stance that you were already perfecting. His brows pinched. “You’re going to get in trouble for this if anyone sees.”

You shrugged. Didn’t care. Maybe it would work in your favour, and Beron would see…call off the engagement and send you straight home. Maybe you were already past the point of caring about what that meant.

“Do I look like I care?” You planted your feet. Linden would have cursed you for not stretching first, but — no time. “Come on. Show me what a clueless female I am.”

“I never said—”

You struck. Lucien was only just fast enough to block the move. He blinked at you.

You smirked. Watched as he quickly righted his stance. The two of you eyed each other.

And thus began the swift dance that Linden had walked you through time and time again until you’d had it perfected. The sword was heavy, and you were a little rusty — just a bit — but it was muscle memory that led you through the strikes and manoeuvres, the feinting and parrying.

It wasn’t long before the two of you were sweaty and huffing breaths, but still you didn’t falter, even as your arm ached from the strain. You blocked a strike from Lucien, dancing around him on nimble feet. He spun around to face you.

“Got some frustrations you need to work through, Lady?” He breathed, following your every move with his own.

“Perhaps I do.” You parried. “What of it?”

“Maybe I’m surprised. You’re not a bad sword wielder.”

“A compliment?” You huffed a laugh as you moved. “I’m touched. You’re not so bad yourself. I must admit, I had you pegged as a poet and a dancer, not a warrior. Very fluid.”

“One could consider,” He panted, sweat glistening on his brow, “That sword fighting is a dance in itself, no? If your movements are not fluid, you’ll be neither a good dancer, nor a good fighter.”

“Talking from personal experience?”

“I’ve been known to take a dance lesson or two.”

And Mother above, you didn’t doubt it. If Linden was brute force and as slick as the weapons he wielded, Lucien was…art. Pure, unflinching art. The grace with which he moved would have distracted you once, had you not honed your concentration with such precision. But strands of red hair stuck to his sweat-slick face, his cheeks bitten pink and his muscles rippling.

Part of you didn’t want it to end — just so you could watch his masterful dance go on and on and on. His autumn scent surrounded you, wanted to overpower you — but you blocked it out. Forced yourself to move.

“So tell me,” He watched you closely, breaths huffing, “What, exactly, is it that’s got you so worked up? Tired of my brother pampering you already?”

“Maybe.” You snorted. “Or maybe I’m just wound a bit tight after two weeks of posturing. Not exactly easy to find release with so many people constantly around, you know?”

Lucien stumbled — just slightly. You suppressed the impulse to smirk as he righted himself, parrying another strike.

“I’m not sure I know what you mean.” He ground out as you circled each other.

“Oh, I think you do.” You grinned wickedly. “All those guests, not a moment to myself. No one likes to be caught with their hand between their legs.”

And that was all it took.

Lucien faltered, his feet unsteady as his lips parted. His shock was distracting enough that you were able to land your final blow. You kicked a leg out, using that very distraction to sweep Lucien’s feet out from under him. The great, muscled male, so much taller than you, tumbled straight to the ground.

With a soft whoosh of air, he rolled onto his back. You stood over him, planting a foot either side of him, and the two of you stared at each other.

And then it was just…silent. You and him and your huffing breaths. Lucien seemed slightly stunned; was still blinking at you, his eyes slowly, slowly, trailing down. He didn’t even try to mask the direction of his gaze.

“Do you yield?” You asked, prodding his chest with the tip of the wooden sword.

His eyes snapped back to yours quickly. They were still wide…still stunned. “Yeah. Sure. Whatever.”

You snorted, stepping back. Offered him your hand. It took a few seconds before he actually accepted it, and you helped him to his feet. You picked up his sword, handing it back to him.

“Thank you for that.” You clapped him on his shoulder, brushing past him. “It was just what I needed.”

He could only stand and stare as you returned the sword to the armoury. He hovered in the doorway, studying you. Like he wanted to say something.

What…you weren’t sure. But you didn’t give him the chance.

You passed him once more, a smirk toying on your lips. You knew for a fact that his eyes trailed your back as you strolled away, brushing your sweat-drenched hair from your face.

“I’m off to take a bath,” You called over your shoulder. “Enjoy the rest of your day.”

You knew precisely what image you’d left him with. And as it eased the ache that had been ravaging you, you couldn’t bring yourself to care — not one bit. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------

all acotar tags: @moonfawnx @writingsbychlo @moonlitcelestial @orangecreamsicle54 @saturnspoet0711 @andahugaroundtheneck @nightscourtt @mysticalcheesecakemiracle @luckypersonmentality @nobody00sthings @kristalhi @tencrushesperday @janzquu @we-were-beautiful @thewarriormoon @cirwin2013 @mrs-azriel @the-kwami-of-fandom-frustration @libraryofathousandstars @daily-dose-of-sass @pixiestix13 @basicbittywitty @simplefan-638 @highlady-ofillyria @false-desire-182 @fictionalcharacterlereasigim @theofficialmadman @kemillfreitas @sledgehammer21-1 @shannonsaid @jtargs @morelovemorepeacemoretattoo-blog @new-adventures-everyday @positivewitch @crushedcloudsx @cartoonnerdgirl @a-frog-with-a-laptop @ssmay123 @linduzmunna @ruler-of-hades @kennedy-brooke @peachyandmoon @ariaaira @topaz125 @blitz-fall @azrielsbbg @gracedarr @goldentournesol @localhopedealerr @swagfreakathletemonger @sfhsgrad-blog @lo0oserlex @ruleroftides @mayabennet03 @vera0124 @mich0731 @balam-sen @luciensbxtch @holywolfsstuff @chloesgoneposts @margssstuff

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[hapalopus]

Translation of "Lindormen" from "Æventyrets Dyreverden," Ingvor Bondesen (1887). I have added paragraph breaks for easier online readability, and have added translations/comments in brackets, but have otherwise tried to keep the formatting.

The book is available on Archive.

No animal has been subject of as much fear as the serpent, not even the wolf. From the oldest myths to the youngest folklore, the serpent takes the leading role, and imagination is consistently in motion to provide the serpent with all abilities to evoke fear.

The names change, with time and place: Midgard-serpent, sea serpent, hugormekonge [viper king], and, under all names, venom is its terrible weapon. The horrible giant serpent of the Middle Ages is the lindorm. It lives at the outskirts - in Jylland there is, as such, one in Store Vildmose [a largely impenetrable bog/forest] - and it is of monstrous size. In the folk song, "Didrik af Bern,"[1] it takes the horse under its tongue and snakes into the mountain, where its eleven young lie; it throws the horse to them and bids them taste "den liden Brad" [the little prey].

Mads Povlsen from Fastrup has seen a lindorm-baby as long as a ladder, that is to say 12 cubit [7.5 m/24' 8.5"]. Like the Midgard-serpent was a symbol of the sea's destructive might, the lindorm is similarly a symbol of earth's consuming power, of decay and the awfulness of the grave. When the serpent thus leaves its hill [lindorme are commonly said to live in hills in Danish folklore], its heath [the Danish heath is very inhospitable to humans], its Vildmose, it is with the purpose of finding a churchyard, where it will often encircle the church, gnaw the wooden crosses and foliage, and prevent people from visiting the Lord's House, until it has grown so big that it can topple the church.

In other places, it tunnels beneath the church and eats the corpses, just like the serpent Níðhöggr in Hvergelmir chewed on corpses. And like Níðhöggr laid under Yggdrasil and leeched off its root, so is the lindorm hatched within the root of the linden tree when [the tree] grows old[2]; because Yggdrasil was, in ancient times, a symbol of all Earth's bountifulness and fertile beauty, just like the linden tree later became in the Middle Ages. In the old linden tree in Farum town, there is such a serpent. Every time a century has passed, it roars loudly and, in the end, it will topple the tree, break out, and cause destruction.

Andre Steder borer den sig ned under Kirkerne og æder Ligene, som og Ormen Nidhug i Hvergelmer sugede Lig. Og som Nidhug laa under Ygdrasil og tærede paa dens Rod, saaledes udklækkes der ogsaa en Lindorm i Lindetræets Rod, naar dette bliver meget gammelt t. k.* ; thi Ygdrasil var i Oldtiden Symbolet paa al Jordens Grøde og frugtbare Fagerhed, ligesom Linden senere bliver det i Middelalderen. I det gamle Lindetræ i Farum By er der en saadan Orm. Hver Gang hundrede Aar ere forløbne, brøler den højt, og tilsidst vil den vælte Træet, bryde frem og gjøre Ulykker[3].

The following tale is told in Skåne:

A man lived in a remote forest and earned a living by, among other things, making bark ropes. One day he ordered his half-grown son to crawl up an old tree and loosen the bark. During the work, the boy called down to his father: "Dad, down in the tree there is a sow with her piglets!" The father immediately yelled back for the boy to hurry back down, but it was too late; the lindorm had already grabbed a hold of him and dragged him down through the hollow trunk. The boy screamed and called for help, but the father didn't dare come to his aid; he knew that whoever is taken by the lindorm cannot be saved. "I can't say if this story should be believed or not, but I have later met a man, who must have been born to farmers, but who spent most of his time in cities and among gentlemen, and he spoke of the same, or a similar, story, which had been told in the area between Engelholm and Laholm. His parents, who were wealthy farmers, had, when he was a child, at a market in Engelholm, bought bark rope from a poor man, who told them not to barter, as the ropes had been expensive enough already, as they had cost him the life of his son, which was taken by a lindorm."[4]

The Swedes called it Hvitaormen [the white serpent]; it only shows itself every hundred years, and only in great wilderness areas (see also Hugormekongen). Witches seek it greedily to boil it into soup, and gain insight into all nature's secrets, because, as the serpent in the depths of the earth wraps itself around the roots of mountains and rocks, it is thought to have sucked up the urgrund's secretive powers. Simply just licking the serpent's skin will give you knowledge of all the plants and rocks, and of healing wounds and diseases.[5]

The only effective way to get rid of this wretched beast is to rear a bull on whole milk and wheat bread, which was once done in Tjørnelunde on Zealand, where the lindorm had settled at the outskirts of town and ate the cattle, and whatever else it could catch. When the bull was two years old, they were pitted against each other, but the lindorm was strongest, and the bull was chased off. The year after, the bull had grown as big and strong that it may as well have been a fairytale creature itself, and it was once again pitted against the serpent. The battle was awful, but finally the bull won. After the fight, the bull was so furious that no person could go near it; it tore up the earth with its horns so deep that a great lake area was formed, which can still be found East of the town and is called Hovparken. In the end, the bull was shot; but in a field near Tjørnelunde there is a rock with a deep fissure, which is said to have been made when the lindorm whipped its tail around during the battle.[3]

In Kløv Hill, North of the city of Thisted, lies an enormous lindorm. When doomsday draws near, Denmark will be at war, and the enemy will draw in from the South and lay everything to waste. The last remnant of the Danish Army shall gather at Tids Meadow, where a mighty tree stands. Then the Danish king will arrive on his white horse, bind his horse to the tree, and the battle will start. In the midst of battle, the lindorm will break out and bring an end to both allies and enemies, after which doomsday will begin.[6] In this legend, we have a clear echo of the Ragnarok legend; Tids Meadow is the Vígríðr Field, the tree is Yggdrasil, the king on his white horse is Odin on Sleipnir, the lindorm is the Midgard-serpent, which gets loose, and the enemy from South are not the Germans, but rather the Sons of Muspell.

In the image of the lindorm, as an expression of earth's terrible nature spirit, old features are mixed in to express a passion for earthly things, the brooding serpent of greed. We find this in the legend of the serpent on Gnita Heath, just like the tale of Ragnarr Loðbrók and Þóra borgarhjǫrtr. The earl Herrauðr in Gotland sends his daughter, Þóra a little beautiful serpent as a gift. She keeps it in a box and lays gold around it. It grows with the gold, finally encircling her bower and threatening everyone who draws near, with death and doom. This motif is repeated in later legends.

Near Kingstorp in Skåne lived a man who pretended to be so poor that, when he died, his widow went to the priest to get aid for his burial. But the priest was of the opinion that the man wasn't nearly as poor as the widow thought, as he had been terribly misery. The priest wondered if he had hidden his money somewhere. The widow now remembered that the man enjoyed sitting under a tree near their house; a search was conducted at the place, and they found a rock under which laid a kettle, guarded by a large brooding serpent. The priest ordered the widow to remove the serpent, as she was able to do so. She was scared, but obeyed, and the kettle was lifted. Now the priest told the widow to take a few schilling, put them back in the hold, and lay the serpent on top, as the serpent was the dead man's soul. When this was done, the rock was laid on top once more, and the hole was covered up.[4]

Svend Grundtvig: Danmarks Folkeviser.

Evald Tang Kristensen : Jyske Folkeminder, 4.

J. Kamp: Danske Folkeminder.

Eva Wigstrøm : Folkdiktning m. m. från Skåne, 1.

Afzelius: Svenska folkets sago-håfder, 2.

Svend Grundtvig: Gamle danske Minder, 2.

#danish folklore #folklore

[ofduskanddreams]

CH 12: Equinox

Chapter Summary:

The Autumn Equinox is the most important holiday in the Autumn Court. That morning, Azriel wakes from a vivid and unsettling dream. Before the ball begins that evening, the High Lord and Lady of the Day Court arrive. Focused on the excitement of seeing his mother and preparing for the celebration, Eris failed to consider Helion's ability to see threads of magic. Naturally it only takes a single glance between Eris and Azriel for him to deduce their secret.

Read the chapter here on ao3. The beginning of this chapter is NSFW, fair warning. Enjoy the excerpt below (sfw, don't worry)

[Eris POV]

One of his ancestors had worked alongside someone with powerful earth magic to grow the massive fireoak at the far end of the ballroom. Its branches wove in an arching dome to form the ceiling with bits of glass placed in every irregular gap to seal the space. Fireoaks were Autumn’s signature tree, their leaves were mixed brilliant crimson with red-orange, and every leaf glimmered with a golden iridescence when it caught the light, like a living flame. Instead of chandeliers, the ballroom was lit by little enchanted orbs of fire that hovered below the tips of hundreds of smaller branches dripping downwards like stalactites. When night fell and every other light in the ballroom was extinguished, the high ceiling resembled a night sky with constellations of flaming stars.

The staff were running around putting the finishing touches on everything, but they all stopped to curtsey or bow as he passed. Eris made the effort to smile and nod and thank them for their hard work....*

“I forgot what this place looks like, all dressed up.” Cal mused once they reached the small dais at the foot of the tree. 

Eris sighed, the sound a little wistful. “I know.”

“Remember that Equinox when you slipped a bit of giddygrass essence into old man Linden’s wine and he got so high he tried to climb the tree?” Cal chuckled under his breath. 

“By the Cauldron,” Eris snorted as the forgotten memory resurfaced, “He was convinced that the fire spheres were apples. That feels like lifetimes ago.”

“It was lifetimes ago—we couldn’t have been older than sixteen then,” Cal agreed.

“So much has changed.”

His best friend nudged him with an elbow. “But not everything.”

“No,” Eris huffed a laugh. “Not everything—you’re still a pain in my ass.”

*excerpt has been trimmed for this post.

— — read the full thing here.

@damedechance @headcanonheadcase @booknerd87 @lady-riel @iftheshoef1tz @foundress0fnothing @yourethehero @mali22 @blurredlamplight

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[ladysternchen]

Yet Were Its Making Good, For This- Laughing

“Ha!” Mablung chuckled. Túrin very seldom showed any emotion -joy even less than sorrow- so seeing him burst out in that gloating yell warmed Mablung’s heart considerably. The boy had from the very beginning been uncommonly skilled with the sword, surpassing even his elven peers in his learning. Beleg insisted, though, that a thorough training in archery was an essential part of any soldier’s education, and a soldier Túrin ever aimed to be. And given Túrin’s dislike for fighting with anything but his much preferred sword, he did extraordinarily well in today’s archery lesson. 

Mablung leaned back against the trunk of one of the linden-trees that surrounded the sparring-grounds, watching his fellow captains observe the training of their men, or indeed train themselves. Mablung himself sat cooling down after his own fighting- practise, his mind and body still full of the joy training brought to him. As the King’s chosen sparring-partner, those sessions had a much greater benefit for Mablung than just having his thoughts occupied- for through hard training, Elu seemed to forget all his pain for a little while, and be himself again, truly himself. He would even jest at times, calling his men a bunch of unfaithful traitors to general amusement when they chose to cheer on Captain rather than King. Hearing Elu laugh was the most precious thing to Mablung. It was as if all of Doriath laughed, the veil of grief and foreboding lifted for a moment.

Today though, his thoughts were less on his King than on the latter’s fosterling, whom they both sat watching now. Mablung remembered well the famished boy that Húrin’s son had been when he had first reached Menegroth, and the change that had come over him in so short a time was all the more astonishing for that. Well, Mablung mused, short for an elf. For mortal men, even those few years must indeed be a long time and Túrin certainly could no longer be called a child. Fair he was, and tall, and as he had not yet started to grow a beard, he was almost indistinguishable from any elf as long as he kept his hair open.

The next jeering sound that brought Mablung back into the present came from Beleg himself, accompanied by the tell-tale thud of the apple hitting the ground. Mablung counted quickly.

He got all of them, he thought admiringly. The boy really was making quick progress. He would have to congratulate Beleg on his teaching skills, and also make a mental note never to challenge Húrin’s son in any shooting competition. That could only end in his utter embarrassment. 

“I’m very proud of you, Túrin!” Mablung heard Beleg say “Not so much because of your archery, but because you worked so hard despite your dislike for it. And it paid off!”

Túrin’s face glowed at the praise. 

“Now, are you too tired out already? Or should we delve a little deeper into weapons you won’t readily call your own?”

Mablung and Elu both chuckled at the expression on Túrin’s face as he turned to Beleg, positively bristling with indignation.

“Tired out? Beleg!”

The archer chuckled. 

“I thought so. Well then, as I have them here, how about asking Mablung and the King to show and tell you about their weapons of choice?”

A slight frown creased Túrin’s brow at this, and he glanced uncertainly at Elu.

“But… Mablung usually fights with an axe, but… is not your weapon the sword also, lord? As it is mine?”

Elu smiled gently at Túrin as he answered:

“That really depends on how you define ‘weapon of choice’. I much love my sword, and take great pleasure in sparring, but the weapon I’d choose should I find myself under attack and in dire need of defending myself, would still be a very ordinary wooden spear.”

“And make no mistake, Túrin.” Beleg said earnestly “Before you stands, without flattery, Doriath’s most skilled spearman. What I can do with my arrows, he can do with a spear, the limitations of the weapon taken into consideration, obviously. But that is not for today. Today’s lesson will be the use of spear and axe in close combat. So we’ll let Elu and Mablung show us what can be achieved with those weapons, and then I’ll see how long it takes them to beat me in combat.”

Mablung enjoyed the demonstration greatly. It was very satisfying to be able to show what he could do with his axe, and hear the onlookers admiring cheers. Not many Elves chose the battle-axe as their preferred weapon, that was much rather a thing of the Dwarves, and indeed, it was from the people of Belegost that Mablung had originally learned the art of axe-fighting. Many of his own kinsfolk considered it too heavy, but that was precisely what made Mablung love it. Moving the axe was like taking it to a dance, with all the elegance that involved, and it brought him great joy to be able to show that to others as well.

That joy was quite overshadowed by Beleg, however, when the latter caused gales of laughter by throwing his training-weapon to the ground mere moments after they had picked it up to face Mablung.

“Yes, and this is why I don’t fight with a weapon that has two ends to put to use… I just beheaded myself. Nay, the axe is not for me.”

Once he was able to control his laughter enough to stand straight, Mablung ruffled Beleg’s braids, which made the archer snarl.

“Seems fairly attached to me.” he stated, to another round of cheering. Beleg grimaced at him, and Mablung well knew that the defeat, caused by his inexperience rather than Mablung’s skill, still stung his friend, even if he tried to hide his feelings under a decent amount of self-irony. Not for nothing was Beleg called ‘the Mighty’, so being humbled in combat was not an experience he was particularly used to. 

It was probably that which made Beleg fight all the harder with the spear, a weapon with which he was much more familiar. Though more evenly matched against Elu than he had been against Mablung, Beleg still lost to the King- that was, had he not downright refused to acknowledge this defeat. Before long, what had started as a formidable demonstration of spear-fighting ended in a brawl. Mablung chuckled. Sparring with Beleg always ended like that, sooner or later.

“You’re dead twice already Beleg, so get.. off.. me!” Elu panted, trying to get out from under Beleg, who had pinned him to the ground. 

“Unfair, this is. If you order me off, I’ll have to obey, but you’re really only saying that because I’m winning this fight!”

“Aye, you would, if you weren’t dead twice already!”

As Mablung turned away to wipe tears of mirth from his eyes, his gaze fell upon Túrin, who looked back at him in utter bewilderment, staring at his foster-father and his tutor. Mablung laid a hand on the boy’s shoulder.

“Don’t take this too seriously, Túrin. They’re playing by now. A little reminiscence of long lost times and oh, I cannot tell you how my heart rejoices. I never expected to witness this again.”

Later, when the fight had at last been settled and the crowd dissolved, Mablung found himself walking back to the caves side by side with Beleg. His friend had hummed and smiled to himself all through cleaning and putting away their equipment, and did not cease to do so even now. He seemed happy, and though Mablung would never begrudge his friend this happiness, it still made him feel a little lonely. Playing over those feelings, he said:

“You know, I’m going to get jealous soon. You never came to Menegroth to visit me here, and now you spend almost more time training Túrin than you spend on the boarders.”

Beleg chuckled, though rather apologetically.

“It is not so, Mablung. But you come to the marches regularly, while Túrin is still much too young to travel so far on his own.”

“Not for long, I think.” Mablung answered. “Soon, he will reach manhood. Surely he will join you then?”

Beleg nodded, his expression turning suddenly serious.

“I would guess so. He is fierce, and determined, and has a fiery heart. Ultimately, of course, he longs for the moment he will leave the confines of Doriath for good, hoping to wield a deadly blow against Morgoth. I dread that day, Mablung. He can but meet his end beyond Doriath, and yet his heart urges him on. He deems his time for action short, and the need of his people great. What am I to say to that? What am I to answer if he asks me to come with him?”

“It might still be that you can convince him of this errand being folly. He listens to you more than to anybody else.” Mablung said gently, sensing Beleg’s pain.

“Aye. But my hopes are not high. Even we, Mablung, who have lived for uncounted years, thought to find glory in battle before the Nírnaeth taught us better. Túrin is a mortal…”

“… and he loves you.” interjected Mablung, noting the red tinge that crept into Beleg’s cheeks. “That counts for much.”

For a while, neither of them spoke, then Beleg sighed.

“I love him, too. I have long tried to deny it, but… I cannot, not truly.”

Mablung bit back a chuckle with difficulty. Beleg was clearly uncomfortable, and Mablung himself had too much experience with pining to not feel sorry for his friend. But still, it made a very nice change to be the one to comfort for once.

“You need not deny it, Beleg. Nothing hinders you…”

“Yes it does.” Beleg interrupted. “Oh, not mortality, I do not fear that. I know his time is short, but that is not what bothers me. Truth be told, I don’t even know what is. I know what he craves, what he wants, and yet I will not encourage him. That must sound so hypocritical coming from me, who fucked his way all through the Great Journey, but this time… no. It is almost as if our relationship were too sacred for such a mundane thing as physical love. Do you remember how we used to abuse Enel for his believes? Well, maybe he was right and we were wrong, but only too young back then to understand?”

Mablung was not altogether sure that he agreed with that, but did not contradict Beleg. This were his feelings after all, and Mablung would not dare to judge their validity. 

“I think Túrin is content also with our friendship as it is…” Beleg went on “…and with being brothers-in-arms. Which makes me realise that I have to apologise to you, Mablung. I always thought you were lying to yourself when you said that you were content with the way things are with Elu because I just couldn’t imagine…”

Beleg’s voice trailed off, and Mablung laid a hand on his friend’s shoulder, smiling.

“That is true love, Beleg. When the other’s happiness weighs more heavily than your own, and becomes your own. When you would make a fool of yourself for just one laugh, one moment of bliss. When you would forsake your life to save your beloved.”

Beleg nodded, but seemed lost for words otherwise, something that in itself was neigh on unheard of.

“Follow your heart, Beleg, wherever it might lead you. It has never lead you astray, nor me. Only -should it come to it, to you accompanying Túrin on whichever errands are to be his- watch out for yourself as much as him, alright?”

A smile graced Beleg’s lips.

“Don’t you worry about me, Mablung. I always get by, you know me.” 

“Yes, I do. This is exactly what has me worried. You are careless.” 

And when Beleg huffed, he added:

“Only remember, will you, that dead is dead in reality? There is no dying twice just because you enjoy the brawl, not even for the mighty Strongbow?”

Again, Beleg nodded, and Mablung, acting on a sudden impulse, slung his arms around his friend.

“I’m happy for you, for now. Take every moment of happiness while it lasts. Just promise me to survive the grief of parting from Túrin when it inevitably comes to pass, and return to me. Can you do that?”

Beleg drew back enough to grasp Mablung’s hands, and lock his fingers tightly with his friend’s.

“I promise.”

#yet were its making good for this #silmarillion fanfiction #ao3 #chapter 17 #túrin in doriath #mablung #beleg cúthalion #túrin #elu thingol #doriath #coh #happy days #sparring #elvish weapons #fighting practise #idk why i imagine this to be a very mild and dry autumn day with lots of colourful leaves #maybe beleg and mablung's last private conversation

[ebaeschnbliah]

Legolas Song of Nimrodel

`Here is Nimrodel! ' said Legolas. 'Of this stream the Silvan Elves made many songs long ago, and still we sing them in the North, remembering the rainbow on its falls, and the golden flowers that floated in its foam. All is dark now and the Bridge of Nimrodel is broken down. I will bathe my feet, for it is said that the water is healing to the weary.' He went forward and climbed down the deep-cloven bank and stepped into the stream.

`Follow me!' he cried. 'The water is not deep. Let us wade across! On the further bank we can rest. and the sound of the falling water may bring us sleep and forgetfulness of grief.'

One by one they climbed down and followed Legolas. For a moment Frodo stood near the brink and let the water flow over his tired feet. It was cold but its touch was clean, and as he went on and it mounted to his knees, he felt that the stain of travel and all weariness was washed from his limbs.

When all the Company had crossed, they sat and rested and ate a little food; and Legolas told them tales of Lothlórien that the Elves of Mirkwood still kept in their hearts, of sunlight and starlight upon the meadows by the Great River before the world was grey.

At length a silence fell, and they heard the music of the waterfall running sweetly in the shadows. Almost Frodo fancied that he could hear a voice singing, mingled with the sound of the water.

`Do you hear the voice of Nimrodel? ' asked Legolas. 'I will sing you a song of the maiden Nimrodel, who bore the same name as the stream beside which she lived lung ago. It is a fair song in our woodland tongue; but this is how it runs in the Westron Speech, as some in Rivendell now sing it.' In a soft voice hardly to be heard amid the rustle of the leaves above them he began:

An Elven-maid there was of old, A shining star by day: Her mantle white was hemmed with gold, Her shoes of silver-grey. A star was bound upon her brows, A light was on her hair As sun upon the golden boughs In Lórien the fair. Her hair was long, her limbs were white, And fair she was and free; And in the wind she went as light As leaf of linden-tree. Beside the falls of Nimrodel, By water clear and cool, Her voice as falling silver fell Into the shining pool. Where now she wanders none can tell, In sunlight or in shade; For lost of yore was Nimrodel And in the mountains strayed. The elven-ship in haven grey Beneath the mountain-lee Awaited her for many a day Beside the roaring sea. A wind by night in Northern lands Arose, and loud it cried, And drove the ship from elven-strands Across the streaming tide. When dawn came dim the land was lost, The mountains sinking grey Beyond the heaving waves that tossed Their plumes of blinding spray. Amroth beheld the fading shore Now low beyond the swell, And cursed the faithless ship that bore Him far from Nimrodel. Of old he was an Elven-king, A lord of tree and glen, When golden were the boughs in spring In fair Lothlórien. From helm to sea they saw him leap, As arrow from the string, And dive into the water deep, As mew upon the wing. The wind was in his flowing hair, The foam about him shone; Afar they saw him strong and fair Go riding like a swan. But from the West has come no word, And on the Hither Shore No tidings Elven-folk have heard Of Amroth evermore.

The voice of Legolas faltered, and the song ceased. 'I cannot sing any more,' he said. 'That is but a part, for I have forgotten much. It is long and sad, for it tells how sorrow came upon Lothlórien, Lórien of the Blossom, when the Dwarves awakened evil in the mountains.'

`But the Dwarves did not make the evil,' said Gimli.

`I said not so; yet evil came,' answered Legolas sadly. `Then many of the Elves of Nimrodel's kindred left their dwellings and departed and she was lost far in the South, in the passes of the White Mountains; and she came not to the ship where Amroth her lover waited for her. But in the spring when the wind is in the new leaves the echo of her voice may still be heard by the falls that bear her name. And when the wind is in the South the voice of Amroth comes up from the sea; for Nimrodel flows into Silverlode, that Elves call Celebrant, and Celebrant into Anduin the Great. and Anduin flows into the Bay of Belfalas whence the Elves of Lórien set sail. But neither Nimrodel nor Amroth ever came back.’

The Song of Nimrodel - performed by Yolanda Mott:

JRR Tolkien, The Lord of the Rings, The Fellowship of the Ring, Lothlórien

#the lord of the rings #the fellowship of the ring #lothlorien #jrr tolkien #poetry #legolas #the song of nimrodel #nimrodel #movie pics #edited #peter jackson #yolanda mott #music

[kingdom-come-rpg]

The Royal Family of the Similaun Court

Her Majesty the Dowager Empress Gentian, Constanzae of Weisshorn

Ancillary Prince Marten Anotteus, Sleepless King of Misted Peaks

First Princess, the Lady Adelheidas (Adelaide) of Strauss

His Majesty the Emperor Linden, Aloysius (Alois) of Strauss

Her Majesty the Empress Nivalis, Hannelorea (Hannel) of Schesaplana

Little Prince Darya of Strauss

Little Prince Eigen of Strauss

Not pictured: Second Prince the Lord Anatoleus of Strauss

#dress up #similaun court #Marten #Adelaide #Alois #Hannel #Eigen #Darya #the too many names brigade x_x #Constanzae

[thecorpselight]

An Anglo-Saxon Charm for a Witch-Wound Loud were they, lo! loud When over the lew they rode. They were of stout mood When over the lew they rode. Shield thee now; thou mayst save this nithing. Out little spear; if herein it be. He stood under the linden broad Under a light shield, Where the mighty witch wives Their main strength proved. And yelling they sent darts. I again will send them another Flying feathered bolt from the front against them. Out little spear; if herein it be. Sat the smith; he sledged a sword. Little iron, wound sharp, Out little spear; if herein it be. Six smiths sat, Slaughter spears they wrought. Out spear, not, in spear, If herein there be, of iron a bit, A witches work, It shall melt. If thou wert on fell shotten, Or wert on flesh shotten, Never let thy life be a teazed. If it were an Aesir shot, Or if it were an elfin shot. Or if it were a witches shot, Now will I help thee. Here's this to boot of Aesir shot, Here's this to boot of elfin shot, Here's this to boot of witches shot, I will help thee. Fled Thor to the mountain, Hallows he had two. May the Lord help thee!

#folk magic #folk witchcraft #witchcraft #folk cures #folk healing #healing charms #healing magic

[kosmik-signals]

Linden Arden Stole the Highlights

“Linden Arden stole the highlights With one hand tied behind his back Loved the morning sun, and whiskey Ran like water in his veins Loved to go to church on Sunday Even though he was a drinking man When the boys came to San Francisco They were looking for his life But he found out where they were drinking Met them face to face outside Cleaved their heads off with a hatchet Lord, he was a drinkin’ man And when someone tried to get above him He just took the law into his own hands Linden Arden stole the highlights And they put his fingers through the glass He had heard all those stories Many many times before And he did not care no more to ask And he loved the little children Like they were his very own You say, “Someday it may get lonely” Now he’s livin’, livin’ with a gun”

                                                      Van Morrison

https://singout.org/linden-arden-and-the-belfast-cowboy/

#Van Morrison #Linden Arden Stole the Highlights #Veedon Fleece

[crowned-mountain-lady]

Searching for peace - finding more

Lórien was a place Oronís once could only dream about. When she returned to life, after spending nearly entire two Ages of the Sun healing in Námo's keep, she expected many things, but certainly not, that she would be brought here. It was here, where she learnt about the fall of Dark Lord's Lieutenant's final fall. Many of those who finally sailed to Blessed realm spoke about it, sharing what they knew of the matter with those who lived here. A year or so passed already since then, when she heard of the Ringbearers' arrival. Both elves and Maiar were talking about it, but especially Irmo's servants seemed giddy. Whispers of Olórin finally coming back could be heard almost evrywhere. She was on the way to meet her new friends she made here. It was a nice, rather longer walk from her temporary home. She enjoyed such walks - Lórien and it's gardens, groves and parks with little streams, brooks and ponds had an abundance of beautiful sceneries. There were many small, cozy and secluded places, as well as flowerfields, and vast meadows where one could roam to their heart's content. After a moment, at the crossroad of many sandy paths, she spotted a group of travellers, resting under the shade of linden tree with thick trunk. Most of them chatted lively, unlike...one of them who seemed restless.

@lindirofimladrisvalley

#rp starter #Lindir of Imladris valley #meeting #the restless one is you Lindir ;)

[inu-mothership]

Inu-Mothership Spotlight Saturday: March 26, 2022 Toga/Sesshomaru’s Mother!

Hello everyone! The @inu-mothership is back with a new list of fic recs--this week, our members voted, and we are very pleased to bring you a set of stories that feature Toga and Sesshomaru’s mother!

This is a small, but important, subset of stories, as this ship is a key element of canon. You’ll see that the writers we’ve chosen call Sesshomaru’s mother by a variety of names, but her sass and her strength are always there.

Stories are listed alphabetically, with rating and current status (ongoing or complete). We hope that you enjoy!

Interested in joining the Mothership? Please fill out our application here! We’d love to have you aboard 💜

Fic Recs:

The Arrangement (E; complete) by @loveyou-x3000

Sesshomaru's Mother—before Sesshomaru was ever born—watches as Toga is forced to take a second wife.

Birth of Destruction of Life (G; complete) by @myravenspirit

Inukimi is ready to give birth, but Touga is out on the battlefield. Will he make it time for the birth of their child? Twitter request fulfilled. Warning: Inu birth. M just in case for swearing.

The Journey -- Illustrations (G; complete) by Iris_1903 (Ao3)

From Iwojima, two youkai with different lifestyles have chosen to share their lives with each other. Attached and betrayed, disagreed and separated, understood and farewell, they left their only son a legacy that is both desirable and terrifying, which many others will seek to appropriate, or turn and run away.

Reaching out to accept everything, confronting fate, turning challenges into glory, on the long road, that son walks proudly with a gift in hand....

The journey from the beginning to the end.

Looks vs Practical Usage (G; complete) by Coup Detat (Ao3)

Inukimi and Inu no Taishou have a large difference of opinion in what their pup should wear. Inukimi believes that Sesshomaru should be dressed in high quality clothing that brings out his beauty to future mates, Inu no Taishou believes it is all about safety. He thinks that Sesshomaru should be wearing the robe of the fire rat to protect him should anything happen. It's a good old case of Looks vs Practical Usage - and a good old marital quarrel. Sesshomaru honestly just wants to eat though.

Lords of the Night (M; ongoing) by Winterzforgotten (Ao3)

They called him pup as he was still a child in the eyes of his elders. Little did they know that one day he would become the great Inu no Taishō. One day his name would be spoken throughout all of Japan and everyone would know his name and it would be uttered in fear. But he was still a child, no more than 12. His power still locked away, sleeping within. This is his journey.

The Lords of Western (English version) (G; complete) by Tsuki_tsuki12 (Ao3)

The Great War had changed him, and the Great War gave him a reason to change the world. But he lost himself in that process, which was also the price he had to pay for destroying the contemporary order of the world. When purposes could not justify actions, victories could not justify sins, ideals became words of hypocrisy, defending or conquering were both done with the same blood-stained hands. All his efforts only pushed him deeper into the mire of pointless wars, as how it’s happening, and had happened thousands of years ago. After all of his endeavors to change this world, nothing has changed.

The Mirror and the Light of the Skies (E; complete) by @linden-bloom

A companion prequel story exploring the deteriorating relationship between the Inu no Taisho and Sesshomaru's Mother.

The What If (G; complete) by Ingniferrus (Ao3) Now the what if was there in her arms, tiny, trembling, covered in its mother's dried blood, and barely alive. Just as she made up her mind to put it to rest alongside its mother, the baby's arm jerked free of its haphazard wrappings and its little hand closed around her sleeve.

Or; how Inuyasha came to be with his family in this AU.

You Go Wherever You Go (M; ongoing) by streamsofstoriesandcolour (Ao3)/ @shade-without-color

Kirinmaru and Inu no Taisho, two powerful daiyoukais is well known through the lands about their legendary friendship, however, a prophecy haunted Kirinmaru and a love affair between Toga and Izayoi may accelerate the fall of the Lord of the West, and deterioration of his surrogate son Riku.

#spotlight saturday #inu-mothership spotlight saturday #fic recs #spotlight saturday march 26 2022 #toga x sesshomaru's mother

[monster-bait]

Hi, I see lots of people asking about stories of yours that you've taken down for publishing and it made me wonder. Do you have a place where people can read synopsis (plural??) of upcoming books/books that have been taken down? I saw the teaser for Sweet Berries at the end of your Farm book, but I don't know the one coming in 2022 I don't think and I wanna get hyped! (Have read Sweet Berries stories, but the book is gonna be bomb)

I don't have a synopsis landing page, but my website is about to get an overhaul, so that might be changing!

In the meantime, here's the tentative order of things:

Parties, GW book 2- Several months after a weekend girls' trip, suburban elves Lurielle, Ris, and Silva are still affected by their experiences at the resort and the orcs they met there.

Lurielle discovers that being in a multi-species relationship has its challenges: meeting Khash's family, introducing him to hers, and facing the harsh realities that lie ahead if they stay together. A lifetime together or a lifetime apart - she must decide if she can bear the heartache the future holds.

When Ris returns to the resort on a whim, an unexpected encounter with a slightly familiar face upends this elf's desire to be a free as the wind. Ainsley is simultaneously everything and nothing that she's looking for - smart and sexy and completely unattached . . . but how long can they "keep things casual?"

Silva struggles to juggle the expectations of her family and seeing Tate in secret until she becomes tangled in her web of lies, necessitating a choice - following the carefully mapped life of privilege her family has planned for her in their Elvish community . . . or throwing it all away to follow her heart, for a man with his own heart full of secrets.

Parties is a multi-POV story, following all three girls through a succession of soirees, each one winding their separate story lines - and the work friends - tighter together.

Sweet Berries - Grace has a job she loves, a community she adores, and plenty of friends . . . but her lack of bedroom action has left this event planner too horny to think. When one ill-advised night at the bar leads to her giving an exhibitionistic show to an unknown presence outside her bedroom window, she thinks she’d hit a new low. When her voyeur turns out to be a nebbishly charming mothman, Grace needs to decide if she can trust her body — and her heart — with this garnet-eyed stranger before he flys out of her life for good.

Sweet Berries is a monster/human romance novella featuring high heat and a lot of heart, with a guaranteed HEA. It is the second book in the Cambric Creek Romance series, and can be read as a standalone. CWs: human/nonhuman romance, nonhuman anatomy, size difference, exhibitionism

Pride - Don’t ever go into the forest alone, gorza, there are strangers there who will take you away.

She had grown up in the shadow of the forest, with the story of the boy who’d disappeared into its black confines having been passed down in her clan for generations. She never imagined the story’s subject might be real.

Nineteen, rebellious, and queer; trapped in a marriage she never wanted, Elshona wishes that she too could disappear from her life, never to be seen again. When she meets a sharp-toothed stranger in a pub, whose past bears more than just a passing resemblance to the tale she’s known all her life, she does the one thing she was taught not to do: follows him into the night, out the door and away from her family and all she knows, all the way across the sea.

Pride is a Girls Weekend side-story about Tate and Elshona: how they meet, their shared connection, and the pain of not being accepted and leaving home behind. It's a story of queer acceptance, chosen family, and the ties that bind us, for better or worse. CW: ALL the emotions

Moon Blooded Breeding Clinic - Returning to Cambric Creek is the last thing Lowell Hemming wants to do, but when his career as a photographer is put on hold, he’s not left with much of a choice. Suffocating under the weight of the Hemming family name and the confines of his small hometown, the monthly full moon is the only time he doesn’t feel trapped. When an intriguing flyer requesting healthy male werewolves catches his eye, he finds himself calling Moon Blooded Breeding Clinic, signing up as a donor for their catalog.

From the outside, recently divorced Moriah has everything - except the one thing she wants: a child of her own. Desperation pushes her to contact a very unconventional clinic with an unparalleled success rate . . . all she needs to do is align her reproductive cycle to the full moon and pick a werewolf from a catalog with whom to mate.

Moon Blooded Breeding Clinic will feature a high heat slow burn that examines real-world issues through the unique lens of Cambric Creek. CW: knotting, breeding, werewolf/human relationship.

Changes, GW book 3 - hahahaha, nope. Not yet!

Wheel of the Year - Ousted from her coven, hurting for clients, and struggling to keep her aging family home, socially awkward witch Ladybug is at the end of her rope. When she rents the attic bedroom to a silent, unsmiling drider, she thinks her life might be on the right track to improve; when she lets him into her bed, it will never be the same.

Wheel of the Year is a series of short vignettes, centered around the witch's sabbaths. CW: arachnophobia, spider anatomy, biological aphrodisiac, HUGE size difference, non-human/human romance.

Beneath the Linden Trees 1 - In a time of war and kings, the orcs of clan Duh’lar have secured the mountains for their own, and if adopting the customs of men is the only way to keep it, they will do what they must. Peace and prosperity follow, but when war comes to the Easterlands, the Lord of Linden Hall must decide if the orcs will honor their treaties.

Beneath the Linden Trees follows tree orcs and the women they love, and how the decisions of one affects the lives of the others:

Aurelie is a well-bred human Lady from the Easterlands, promised in marriage to the youngest son of the orc lord, sent away from her father's keep to her new home at Linden Hall. To her shock, her betrothed is warm and kind, well-spoken and indulgent . . . but after several weeks in residence in her new home, she has still not laid eyes on Tilianus, the orc she is to marry.

Lisette and Gelgrah, a witch destined for the stake and the orc who rescues her, have built their home at the base of the mountain, far from Linden Hall. When war comes to the mountains, Lisette realizes their little family is at risk of being torn apart.

Eh'lazar is an acolyte at the temple of the moon, learning the ancients arts from the high priestess, Eonar, before he is cast out for dabbling in darker magics. Hardening his heart, he cultivates a reputation as a powerful necromancer, capable of raising an army of the dead . . . but when war comes to the mountains, he must choose between cementing his power and the elf he once loved.

Beneath the Linden Trees will be a three-part series (for now) that should be read as a series. CW: typical period-era violence, human/non-human romance, size differences

Rosemary & Time - She had always known the way through the wood, until the day the wood changed.

When Thorn follows a light into the forest, the world she thought she knew falls away. Memories and lives already lived shift and dance in her head, obliterating reality and leaving her at the mercy of the fae to whom she is forever bound. Jack of the lanterns is the last person she ought to trust, but as she is thrust into the world of the high courts, he is all she has.

Surviving the treacherous Court of Autumn's capricious Queen and her deadly consort are only the start of Thorn's journey through the wood, and she must decide if she is willing to play their game forever . . . or free herself from her captor, the man she has loved for several lifetimes.

Rosemary & Time is a topsy-turvy journey through the world of the fae, where magic and memory weave a confusing tapestry, and where nothing is ever what it seems. It is a standalone story, but is connected to Girls Weekend, and recommended for the richest reading if both worlds. CW: it's the fae, baby. All the content warnings.

Reunions, GW book 4 - I promised happy endings for all my babies, and after a lot of suffering, this is the book in which they finally get it.

That's what I have planned for now!

#monsterbait publishes #authorblr #writeblr #authors of tumblr #exophilia #monster romance #monster boyfriend #monster lover #orcs #fae #cambric creek wolf pack

[suckitsurveys]

L

The L Survey by joybucket

Name one person that you love. My husband. What it is something you have learned recently? A lot of celebrity gossip lol. In the fall, what is your favorite leaf color? Red. Do you take Loratidine? I don’t know what that is. Have you ever ridden in a limousine? Yes.

What is your favorite lotion fragrance? Coconut. Are you a Lord of the Rings family? No. Are you a lord or a lady? – Do you prefer lip gloss or lip balm? Lip balm. What is your favorite lipstick color ? Red. When was the last time you had lasagna? It’s been a while. Have you ever cooked lasagna from scratch? No. I don’t like it that much. Do you know anyone with a dog named Lucy? Yes, actually. List ten words that rhyme with “lord.” Blah.

Finish the sentence: “Life is ….” short. Have you ever… signed an apartment lease? leased a car? lost your luggage? played a game of limbo? worn a lei around your neck? tried to open something after you just put lotion on and found it to be impossible? worshiped the Lord with all your might? loved life? loathed someone or something? used a loofa? eaten Fruit Loops? owned a locket? climbed a ladder? played Chutes and Ladders? written someone a letter? thought about going into law? hired a lawyer? tried line dancing? had lice? had a swollen lip? pet a lion? licked a lemon? lost a bet? bought a lottery ticket? swam in a lake? lived on a lake? laughed so hard you cried? served soup with a ladle? cut the label off your shirt so it wouldn’t make your skin itch? Do you like…. licorice? (Red) the color lime green? listening? salads made with lettuce? lettuce in sandwiches? fresh-squeezed lemonade? lace? lipstick? laughing? water with lemon? lemon meringue pie? lotion? swimming in lakes? learning new things? Language Arts? learning foreign languages? loud music? Would you say you are… loving? loved? ladylike? lovable? likable? a good listener? a lifelong learner? little? (short) loopy? lazy at times? limber? lucky? lost? lonely? a lover? a lucid dreamer? a Leo? a Libra? Would you rather…. travel to London or travel to Louisiana? Louisiana. eat lettuce or eat licorice? Lettuce meet Luna Lovegood or meet Larry the Cucumber? I’m good. love and lose or never love at all? Love and lose. More Q’s Are you more of a Lion or a Lamb? Lamb. What are three of your favorite things to eat for lunch? Sandwiches, salads, pizza. What is your favorite type of lunchmeat? Turkey. List five things you associate with “London.” Accents, the clock or whatever, the bridge, the Spice Girls, The Royal family.

Do you like the Apple logo? Sure. Do you know what a lark looks like? No. Have you ever watched I Love Lucy on television? Yes. What is one thing you like about the place in which you live? It’s a city. What are three things you love about life? My loved ones, good food, nature. What is one of the greatest lessons life has taught you? Regrets are dumb. Do you know anyone named… Lucy? Lisa? Lissa? Lacey? Luna? Leo? Leon? Lincoln? Leah? Leanna? Leandra? Lindsay (any spelling)? Lydia? Lynnea? Lynn? Leigh? Lee? Laura? Laurel? Loralei? Lara? Laila? Leila? Lali? Lila? Lilia? Lillian? Lily? Lanita? Lana? Lorraina? Liberty? Lexie? Leonard? Lyle? Libby? Linden? London? Louise? Lois? That’s all- I hope you have a lovely day! :)

#surveys #abc surveys #L

[thehierophage]

Holy Day Meditation for 4/10/21 e.v. - The Feast for the Third Day of the Writing of the Book of the Law

April 10, 2021 æ.v. Dies Saturnii, 

☉︎ 20° ♈︎ : ☽︎ 4° ♈︎ : ♄ : Ⅴⅴⅰⅰ 

Do what thou wilt shall be the whole of the Law. 

The Feast for the Third Day of the Writing of the Book of the Law, The Greater Feast of Saint Swinburne, The Day of Aleph, The Day of the Fool 

Hebrew Letter: Aleph 

Numerical Value as Letter: 1 

Numerical Value as Word: 111/831 (Aleph+Lamed+Peh / Aleph+Lamed+Peh [fin.]) or 117/837 (Aleph+Lamed+Vav+Peh / Aleph+Lamed+Vav+Peh [fin.]) 

Meaning: Ox. 

Thoth Card: The Fool (Atu 0) 

Alternate Title: The Spirit of Aethyr. 

Image: 

Correspondences: 

Tree of Life Path Association: Key 11 - Chokmah to Kether (from Sephira 2-1) 

Astrological Sign: - 

Element: Air 

Egyptian Godforms: Hoor-pa-kraat, Mout, Shu, Tefnut 

Geomantic Figure: Those of Airy Triplicity 

Gemstones: Topaz, Chalcedony 

Perfumes: Galbanum, Pinus, Gum Arabic, Mastic, Anise and all fresh odors. 

Plants: Aspen, Peppermint, Lime, Linden, Pennyroyal 

Animals: Eagle, Man (Cherub of Air), Ox 

Colors: 

King Scale – Bright pale yellow 

Queen Scale – Sky blue 

Prince Scale – Blue emerald green 

Princess Scale – Emerald, flecked gold 

The Secret Instruction of the Master:

Know Naught! All ways are lawful to Innocence. Pure folly is the Key to Initiation. Silence breaks into Rapture. Be neither man nor woman, but both in one. Be silent, Babe in the Egg of Blue, that thou mayest grow to bear the Lance and Graal! Wander alone, and sing! In the King's Palace his daughter awaits thee.

Mnemonic:

Truth, laughter, lust: Wine's Holy Fool! Veil rent, Lewd madness is sublime enlightenment.

Recommended Text for Meditation:

Liber AL vel Legis sub figura CCXX, Cap. 3

The Book of the Law Liber AL vel Legis sub figura CCXX

as delivered by XCIII = 418 to DCLXVI

III

1. Abrahadabra; the reward of Ra Hoor Khut.

2. There is division hither homeward; there is a word not known. Spelling is defunct; all is not aught. Beware! Hold! Raise the spell of Ra-Hoor-Khuit!

3. Now let it be first understood that I am a god of War and of Vengeance. I shall deal hardly with them.

4. Choose ye an island!

5. Fortify it!

6. Dung it about with enginery of war!

7. I will give you a war-engine.

8. With it ye shall smite the peoples; and none shall stand before you.

9. Lurk! Withdraw! Upon them! this is the Law of the Battle of Conquest: thus shall my worship be about my secret house.

10. Get the stele of revealing itself; set it in thy secret temple -- and that temple is already aright disposed -- & it shall be your Kiblah for ever. It shall not fade, but miraculous colour shall come back to it day after day. Close it in locked glass for a proof to the world.

11. This shall be your only proof. I forbid argument. Conquer! That is enough. I will make easy to you the abstruction from the ill-ordered house in the Victorious City. Thou shalt thyself convey it with worship, o prophet, though thou likest it not. Thou shalt have danger & trouble. Ra-Hoor-Khu is with thee. Worship me with fire & blood; worship me with swords & with spears. Let the woman be girt with a sword before me: let blood flow to my name. Trample down the Heathen; be upon them, o warrior, I will give you of their flesh to eat!

12. Sacrifice cattle, little and big: after a child.

13. But not now.

14. Ye shall see that hour, o blessed Beast, and thou the Scarlet Concubine of his desire!

15. Ye shall be sad thereof.

16. Deem not too eagerly to catch the promises; fear not to undergo the curses. Ye, even ye, know not this meaning all.

17. Fear not at all; fear neither men nor Fates, nor gods, nor anything. Money fear not, nor laughter of the folk folly, nor any other power in heaven or upon the earth or under the earth. Nu is your refuge as Hadit your light; and I am the strength, force, vigour, of your arms.

18. Mercy let be off; damn them who pity! Kill and torture; spare not; be upon them!

19. That stele they shall call the Abomination of Desolation; count well its name, & it shall be to you as 718.

20. Why? Because of the fall of Because, that he is not there again.

21. Set up my image in the East: thou shalt buy thee an image which I will show thee, especial, not unlike the one thou knowest. And it shall be suddenly easy for thee to do this.

22. The other images group around me to support me: let all be worshipped, for they shall cluster to exalt me. I am the visible object of worship; the others are secret; for the Beast & his Bride are they: and for the winners of the Ordeal x. What is this? Thou shalt know.

23. For perfume mix meal & honey & thick leavings of red wine: then oil of Abramelin and olive oil, and afterward soften & smooth down with rich fresh blood.

24. The best blood is of the moon, monthly: then the fresh blood of a child, or dropping from the host of heaven: then of enemies; then of the priest or of the worshippers: last of some beast, no matter what.

25. This burn: of this make cakes & eat unto me. This hath also another use; let it be laid before me, and kept thick with perfumes of your orison: it shall become full of beetles as it were and creeping things sacred unto me.

26. These slay, naming your enemies; & they shall fall before you.

27. Also these shall breed lust & power of lust in you at the eating thereof.

28. Also ye shall be strong in war.

29. Moreover, be they long kept, it is better; for they swell with my force. All before me.

30. My altar is of open brass work: burn thereon in silver or gold!

31. There cometh a rich man from the West who shall pour his gold upon thee.

32. From gold forge steel!

33. Be ready to fly or to smite!

34. But your holy place shall be untouched throughout the centuries: though with fire and sword it be burnt down & shattered, yet an invisible house there standeth, and shall stand until the fall of the Great Equinox; when Hrumachis shall arise and the double-wanded one assume my throne and place. Another prophet shall arise, and bring fresh fever from the skies; another woman shall awakethe lust & worship of the Snake; another soul of God and beast shall mingle in the globed priest; another sacrifice shall stain the tomb; another king shall reign; and blessing no longer be poured To the Hawk-headed mystical Lord!

35. The half of the word of Heru-ra-ha, called Hoor-pa-kraat and Ra-Hoor-Khut.

36. Then said the prophet unto the God:

37. I adore thee in the song -- I am the Lord of Thebes, and I The inspired forth-speaker of Mentu; For me unveils the veiled sky, The self-slain Ankh-af-na-khonsu Whose words are truth. I invoke, I greet Thy presence, O Ra-Hoor-Khuit!

Unity uttermost showed! I adore the might of Thy breath, Supreme and terrible God, Who makest the gods and death To tremble before Thee: -- I, I adore thee!

Appear on the throne of Ra! Open the ways of the Khu! Lighten the ways of the Ka! The ways of the Khabs run through To stir me or still me! Aum! let it fill me!

38. So that thy light is in me; & its red flame is as a sword in my hand to push thy order. There is a secret door that I shall make to establish thy way in all the quarters, (these are the adorations, as thou hast written), as it is said:

The light is mine; its rays consume Me: I have made a secret door Into the House of Ra and Tum, Of Khephra and of Ahathoor. I am thy Theban, O Mentu, The prophet Ankh-af-na-khonsu!

By Bes-na-Maut my breast I beat; By wise Ta-Nech I weave my spell. Show thy star-splendour, O Nuit! Bid me within thine House to dwell, O winged snake of light, Hadit! Abide with me, Ra-Hoor-Khuit!

39. All this and a book to say how thou didst come hither and a reproduction of this ink and paper for ever -- for in it is the word secret & not only in the English -- and thy comment upon this the Book of the Law shall be printed beautifully in red ink and black upon beautiful paper made by hand; and to each man and woman that thou meetest, were it but to dine or to drink at them, it is the Law to give. Then they shall chance to abide in this bliss or no; it is no odds. Do this quickly!

40. But the work of the comment? That is easy; and Hadit burning in thy heart shall make swift and secure thy pen.

41. Establish at thy Kaaba a clerk-house: all must be done well and with business way.

42. The ordeals thou shalt oversee thyself, save only the blind ones. Refuse none, but thou shalt know & destroy the traitors. I am Ra-Hoor-Khuit; and I am powerful to protect my servant. Success is thy proof: argue not; convert not; talk not over much! Them that seek to entrap thee, to overthrow thee, them attack without pity or quarter; & destroy them utterly. Swift as a trodden serpent turn and strike! Be thou yet deadlier than he! Drag down their souls to awful torment: laugh at their fear: spit upon them!

43. Let the Scarlet Woman beware! If pity and compassion and tenderness visit her heart; if she leave my work to toy with old sweetnesses; then shall my vengeance be known. I will slay me her child: I will alienate her heart: I will cast her out from men: as a shrinking and despised harlot shall she crawl through dusk wet streets, and die cold and an-hungered.

44. But let her raise herself in pride! Let her follow me in my way! Let her work the work of wickedness! Let her kill her heart! Let her be loud and adulterous! Let her be covered with jewels, and rich garments, and let her be shameless before all men!

45. Then will I lift her to pinnacles of power: then will I breed from her a child mightier than all the kings of the earth. I will fill her with joy: with my force shall she see & strike at the worship of Nu: she shall achieve Hadit.

46. I am the warrior Lord of the Forties: the Eighties cower before me, & are abased. I will bring you to victory & joy: I will be at your arms in battle & ye shall delight to slay. Success is your proof; courage is your armour; go on, go on, in my strength; & ye shall turn not back for any!

47. This book shall be translated into all tongues: but always with the original in the writing of the Beast; for in the chance shape of the letters and their position to one another: in these are mysteries that no Beast shall divine. Let him not seek to try: but one cometh after him, whence I say not, who shall discover the Key of it all. Then this line drawn is a key: then this circle squared in its failure is a key also. And Abrahadabra. It shall be his child & that strangely. Let him not seek after this; for thereby alone can he fall from it.

48. Now this mystery of the letters is done, and I want to go on to the holier place.

49. I am in a secret fourfold word, the blasphemy against all gods of men.

50. Curse them! Curse them! Curse them!

51. With my Hawk's head I peck at the eyes of Jesus as he hangs upon the cross.

52. I flap my wings in the face of Mohammed & blind him.

53. With my claws I tear out the flesh of the Indian and the Buddhist, Mongol and Din.

54. Bahlasti! Ompehda! I spit on your crapulous creeds.

55. Let Mary inviolate be torn upon wheels: for her sake let all chaste women be utterly despised among you!

56. Also for beauty's sake and love's!

57. Despise also all cowards; professional soldiers who dare not fight, but play; all fools despise!

58. But the keen and the proud, the royal and the lofty; ye are brothers!

59. As brothers fight ye!

60. There is no law beyond Do what thou wilt.

61. There is an end of the word of the God enthroned in Ra's seat, lightening the girders of the soul.

62. To Me do ye reverence! to me come ye through tribulation of ordeal, which is bliss.

63. The fool readeth this Book of the Law, and its comment; & he understandeth it not.

64. Let him come through the first ordeal, & it will be to him as silver.

65. Through the second, gold.

66. Through the third, stones of precious water.

67. Through the fourth, ultimate sparks of the intimate fire.

68. Yet to all it shall seem beautiful. Its enemies who say not so, are mere liars.

69. There is success.

70. I am the Hawk-Headed Lord of Silence & of Strength; my nemyss shrouds the night-blue sky.

71. Hail! ye twin warriors about the pillars of the world! for your time is nigh at hand.

72. I am the Lord of the Double Wand of Power; the wand of the Force of Coph Nia--but my left hand is empty, for I have crushed an Universe; & nought remains.

73. Paste the sheets from right to left and from top to bottom: then behold!

74. There is a splendour in my name hidden and glorious, as the sun of midnight is ever the son.

75. The ending of the words is the Word Abrahadabra.

The Book of the Law is Written

and Concealed.

Aum. Ha.

Love is the law, love under will.

#Thelema #thelemic holy season #Tarot

[cowboycostume]

hi miranda! LotR for the blorbo ask game, maybe?

hii linden!! literally thank you so much for asking this is going to be so difficult. and probably mostly inaccurate by the time I watch or read again because literally they are all my blorbos. even gollum.

blorbo: this time around it's Boromir I mean. he has a valiant and loyal heart, even if it has been defeated by temptation. his dying words- "I would have followed you; my captain, my lord, my king." to Aragorn, the very man born to unseat the house of his fathers, taking many arrows in defense of merry and pippin (beloved), two who were in no way capable of saving themselves then.

scrunkly: Samwise (the brave) okay literally I love him. I would die for Sam and also like. he just is the most pure hearted person of the whole company, he undervalued himself and he only wants for simple things and he is my everything literally my best friend samwise gamgee.

scrimblo bimblo: Théoden king of rohan. I can't even explain to you how many times I have cried over him and I am actually just going to attach this message I sent to jude at 8pm yesterday shortly after crying about Théoden.

glup shitto: EOWYN. my WIFE. I love her and her fierce heart and her love for her people that is strong enough to drive her to desperation and strong enough still to fight away from the brink of despair even when all hope is lost. my light in dark places when all other lights go out

poor little meow meow: smeagol.. literally he is the poorest of all little meow meows he's friendless and lonely and he just wanted someone to riddle with and the nasty hobbit steals his literal only possession. I see him I understand him I pity him I love him.

horse plinko: denethor my beloathed. I am filled with relief when he dies and he is just. terrible. influence of the eye or not he plays blatant favorites with his sons, both of whom I love, and he is an arrogant ass 90% of the time.

eeby deeby: Gríma Wormtongue. sniveling little wretch. throw him in the Balrog pit

#oh look an ask #mutuals tag #ty soo much for asking linden literally this took me so long but it was a joy #lotr era

[prettygoodnames]

-dan/-den/-don names

Abidan Meaning: my father is judge Origin: Hebrew

Aidan Meaning: little fire Origin: Irish Alternate spelling: Aden, Aiden, Aodhán, Aydan, Ayden

Alden Meaning: old friend Origin: Old English

Arden Meaning: high Origin: Celtic

Beauden Meaning: beautiful Origin: French

Braden Meaning: salmon Origin: Irish Alternate spelling: Braeden, Braiden, Brayden

Brandon Meaning: hill covered with broom Origin: Old English Alternate spelling: Branden

Brendan Meaning: prince Origin: Welsh Alternate spelling: Brenden, Brendon

Caden Meaning: son of Cadán Origin: Irish Alternate spelling: Caiden, Cayden, Kaden, Kaeden, Kaiden, Kayden

Camden Meaning: enclosed valley Origin: Old English Alternate spelling: Kamden

Darden Meaning: ? Origin: English

Eden Meaning: pleasure, delight Origin: Hebrew

Eldon Meaning: Ella’s hill Origin: Old English

Elsdon Meaning: Elli’s valley Origin: Old English

Gordon Meaning: spacious fort Origin: Scottish Alternate spelling: Gorden

Hayden Meaning: hay valley, hay hill Origin: Old English Alternate spelling: Hadyn

Haydn Meaning: heathen Origin: German

Holden Meaning: deep valley Origin: Old English

Jaden Meaning: - Origin: - Alternate spelling: Jadyn, Jaiden, Jayden, Jaydon

Jadon Meaning: thankful Origin: Hebrew

Jordan Meaning: descent, flow down Origin: Hebrew Alternate spelling: Jordon, Jordyn

Landon Meaning: long hill Origin: Old English Alternate spelling: Landen, Landyn

Linden Meaning: linden tree Origin: English

London Meaning: London Origin: English

Lyndon Meaning: linden hill Origin: Old English Alternate spelling: Lindon

Ogden Meaning: oak valley Origin: Old English

Poseidon Meaning: lord of the earth Origin: Greek

Roydon Meaning: rye hill Origin: Old English

Sheldon Meaning: valley with steep sides Origin: Old English

Sheridan Meaning: searcher Origin: Gaelic

Weldon Meaning: hill near a spring Origin: Old English

Wodan Meaning: inspiration, rage, frenzy Origin: Germanic

Zayden Meaning: - Origin: - Alternate spelling: Zaiden

#writeblr #names #character names #oc names #oc ideas #name ideas #name suggestions #writers on tumblr

[lovemesomesurveys]

The L Survey by joybucket 

Name one person that you love. My mom. What it is something you have learned recently? I depend too much on my pain medication and really need to figure something out.  In the fall, what is your favorite leaf color? All of ‘em. I love fall colors. Do you take Loratidine? No. Have you ever ridden in a limousine? Yes, several times. My dad worked for a limo company when I was a kid, which was really cool.

What is your favorite lotion fragrance? Several different ones from Bath & Body Works, but currently it’s this warm vanilla sugar one I’ve been using. Are you a Lord of the Rings family? No. Are you a lord or a lady? -- Do you prefer lip gloss or lip balm? Lip balm. What is your favorite lipstick color ? I’m not a lipstick person, but I like nudes, pinks, and a nice red. When was the last time you had lasagna? It’s been a very long time.  Have you ever cooked lasagna from scratch? No. I’ve never cooked lasagna, period. I am definitely not a cook. Do you know anyone with a dog named Lucy? I don’t think so. List ten words that rhyme with "lord." Aboard, bored, board, cord, chord, hoard, gourd, poured, roared, soared.  

Finish the sentence: "Life is ...." Hard. Have you ever... signed an apartment lease? leased a car? lost your luggage? played a game of limbo? worn a lei around your neck? tried to open something after you just put lotion on and found it to be impossible? worshiped the Lord with all your might? loved life? loathed someone or something? used a loofa? eaten Fruit Loops? owned a locket? climbed a ladder? played Chutes and Ladders? written someone a letter? thought about going into law? hired a lawyer? tried line dancing? had lice? had a swollen lip? pet a lion? licked a lemon? lost a bet? bought a lottery ticket? swam in a lake? lived on a lake? laughed so hard you cried? served soup with a ladle? cut the label off your shirt so it wouldn't make your skin itch? Do you like.... licorice? the color lime green? listening? salads made with lettuce? lettuce in sandwiches? fresh-squeezed lemonade? lace? lipstick? laughing? water with lemon? lemon meringue pie? lotion? swimming in lakes? learning new things? Language Arts? learning foreign languages? loud music? Would you say you are... loving? loved? ladylike? lovable? likable? a good listener? a lifelong learner? little? loopy? lazy at times? limber? lucky? lost? lonely? a lover? a lucid dreamer? a Leo? a Libra? Would you rather.... travel to London or travel to Louisiana? eat lettuce or eat licorice? meet Luna Lovegood or meet Larry the Cucumber? love and lose or never love at all? More Q's Are you more of a Lion or a Lamb? Lamb. What are three of your favorite things to eat for lunch? A sandwich, chicken strips, and pizza. What is your favorite type of lunchmeat? Cracked pepper turkey, bologna, and salami. List five things you associate with "London." Big Ben, Buckingham Palace, tea, London Eye.

Do you like the Apple logo? Sure. Do you know what a lark looks like? No. Have you ever watched I Love Lucy on television? That’s one of my favorite classic TV shows. What is one thing you like about the place in which you live? My family is here. What are three things you love about life? God, my family, vacations. What is one of the greatest lessons life has taught you? There’s been many. If only I applied them... Do you know anyone named... Lucy? Lisa? Lissa? Lacey? Luna? Leo? Leon? Lincoln? Leah? Leanna? Leandra? Lindsay (any spelling)? Lydia? Lynnea? Lynn? Leigh? Lee? Laura? Laurel? Loralei? Lara? Laila? Leila? Lali? Lila? Lilia? Lillian? Lily? Lanita? Lana? Lorraina? Liberty? Lexie? Leonard? Lyle? Libby? Linden? London? Louise? Lois? That's all- I hope you have a lovely day! :)

#personal #text #survey #surveys #themed #abc survey #the letter l