#not knowing that hide comes from cows and horses and rabbits but not dogs

[silent-scribbs]

Minescryption >:3 I have a couple more sketches I probably won't get finished but meh

#leshy defending some animal or the trees #but running from a creeper in the next panel #grimora sitting back as the phantoms fly down and attack p03 for it cannot sleep #Leshy is making a dirt hut #idc that he has a log cabin #I am the angler #the prospector has a pack of wolves #often getting in fights with the trapper who keeps trying to redstone trap and kill them for pelts #not knowing that hide comes from cows and horses and rabbits but not dogs #Not gonna spoil one of the things tho #my art #art #sketch #fanart #digital art #inscryption #inscryption leshy #inscryptober #inscryption grimora #p03 #p03 fanart #grimora #magnificus #inscryption p03 #leshy fanart #leshy #minecraft #crossover #alternate universe #fan art

[kimberly40]

Southernisms:

Dumb as a bag full of hammers.

Meaner than a skillet full of rattlesnakes.

I won't say it's far, but I had to grease the wagon twice before I hit the main road.

If a trip around the world cost a dollar, I couldn't get to the state line.

He looks like he was inside the outhouse when lightening struck.

She looks like she was born down wind from the outhouse.

Never kick a fresh turd on a hot day.

Never smack a man who's chewin' tobacco.

The quickest way to double your money is to fold it over and put it back in your pocket.

Scared as a sinner in a cyclone.

Scared as a cat at the dog pound.

She's so ugly she'd make a freight train take a dirt road.

He's so ugly his cooties have to close their eyes.

So ugly his mama takes him everywhere she goes so she doesn't have to kiss him goodbye.

She looks like she fell face-down in the sticker patch and cows ran over her.

He looks like the dogs have been keepin' him under the porch.

He's about as sharp as a mashed potato.

So dusty the rabbits are digging holes six feet in the air.

It'll last about as long as a fart in a whirlwind.

He's rough as a corn cob.

He's got enough money to burn a wet mule.

He's about as sharp as a bag full of wet mice.

It's as dry as the dust in a mummy's pocket.

It's about as scarce as bird crap in a cuckoo clock.

He's as tight as the pages in a book.

This race is as tight as the rusted lug nuts on a '55 Ford.

It’s hot enough to peel house paint.

Running like a squirrel in a cage.

Safe as a tick on a dog with a stiff neck.

He couldn't pour rain out of a boot with a hole in the toe and directions on the heel.

If dumb was dirt, he'd cover about half an acre.

So windy we're using a log chain instead of a wind sock.

Tighter than bark on a tree.

As welcome as an outhouse breeze.

Her hair looks like a cats been suckin' on it.

We were so poor my brother and me had to ride double on our stick horse.

As bad-off as a rubber-nosed woodpecker in a petrified forest.

As confused as a cow on astroturf.

It was so hot you could pull a baked potato right out of the ground.

It's so dry the trees are whistling for the dogs.

Busier than a cat covering crap on a marble floor.

If things get any better around here, I may have to hire someone to help me enjoy it.

Well knock me down and steal muh teeth!

Cute as a box full of puppies.

You can't get rid of 'em. He's like a booger you can't thump off.

It's about as hard as trying to steer a herd of cats.

The wheels still turning, but the hamster's dead.

He's so confused he doesn't know whether to scratch his watch or wind his ass.

She was as nervous as a long tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs.

So crooked you can't tell from his tracks if he's coming or going.

I wouldn't trust him any farther than I can throw him.

He's got more guts than you could hang on a fence.

So dry the catfish are carrying canteens.

So dry I'm spitting cotton.

So hot the hens are laying hard-boiled eggs.

Cold as a frosted frog.

Cold as an ex-wife's heart.

Cold as a cast iron commode.

Cold as a banker's heart.

She's about as useful as buttons on a dishrag.

He's tougher than a two-dollar steak.

Happy as a puppy with two tails.

She’s got enough wrinkles to hold an eight-day rain.

That’s about as useful as a trap door on a canoe!

He’s busier than a one-legged man at a butt-kickin contest!

He’s so dumb he couldn’t piss his name in the snow.

That politician’s so crooked he could hide behind a cork screw!

That baby was so ugly the Doctor spanked the Momma!

She’s so ugly she’s got ten-foot pole marks all over her.

It’s rainin’ so hard it sounds like a cow pissing on a flat rock.

He’s so bad off, his eyes looked like two piss-holes in a snowbank.

Well butter my butt and call me a biscuit!

Her hair looks like it caught on fire and somebody put it out with a brick.

He couldn’t find his rear with his hands in his back pockets.

It’s raining so hard the animals are starting to pair up.

His pants were so tight that if he farted, he’d blow his boots off.

Raising kids is like being pecked to death by a chicken.

He’s so skinny, his pants had only one back pocket.

He was mean enough to hunt bears with a hickory switch.

He was ugly as a burnt boot.

Tougher than the back end of a shootin' gallery.

...Thank You, Dear Lord, for blessing me with being a Southerner.

•Photo taken near Spruce Pine, North Carolina

#southern style #southern life #southern living #southern

[wildwolfe]

It’s more than

( Wolfman x female reader)

Content warnings: stuggles with body image,dark thoughts,ptsd,slight nsfw,pregnancy

Being the kinda person who had to be forced to move while growing up,you found yourself moving right back to the country that you now lived with Leonardo Wolfe.You couldn’t help but judge your body when you got up that morning and seeing yourself in the mirror,as you slid on a sweater even though it was gonna be almost eighty degrees.

The gentle feeling of Leonardo’s hands wrapped around you pulling you into him back behind,kissing your shoulder,he never failed to be anything other then a perfect gentlemen.

“Morning love” his voice was groggy as he nuzzled his face into the crook of your neck while buttoning his coat,the laced regret that he had to leave to get back.

“Good morning sweetheart” you laughed turning around feeling him kiss your jaw,as you wrap your hands around him.”I love you,you know that right” you asked him hating that he had to go but more then anything just prayed he would come back safe,you couldn’t imagine your life without the wonderful wolfman.

“Of course I know that darling,I love you as well more then words could explain” he stated with worry in his voice that it meant something was wrong.

“Just be safe” you kissed his cheek before walking out,to take care of the animals,the two of you having moved on to a farm both of you loved.Spending the kinda time you loved together with horses,and dogs along with different animals like cows and rabbits.

While you worked on the farm,an worked at the local fire department,Leonardo had made his way back to the deck where he was met walking up with iceman and Hollywood.

“How’s the country love life treating you there,Wolfe?”Hollywood couldn’t help but tease his partner.

“I love it and I am in love with my wife so great,though I can tell that’s something you don’t know anything about,still flirting with random girls at the bar minutes before I see there” Leonardo couldn’t help but laugh seeing Hollywoods shocked expression.

While the mission quickly turnt longer then expected Leonardo came home to the farm being calmer then he remembered it,the sense of stress leaving.As he put his hat on smirking seeing his wife out in the distance who he knew always had a fear of horses the slightest bit but loved protecting and raising them.Laughing to himself seeing her getting up off the ground covered in mud.

She seemed paler then normal which she couldn’t help but he concerned about,his wife was normally pale as she was Irish,but this was a different level.

“Babe you feeling alright?” Leonardo asked you helping you under the fence and into his arms,sensing you were nervous to say something.

“Love whatever it is I’m here,what’s going on?” His voice was softer then it’s ever been as worry and panic took over.

“I-“ your voice broke as tears threatened to spill from your eyes. “I-I’m pregnant” you didn’t realize you were holding your breathe until you felt him picking you up to kiss you which made you laugh.

“Baby” his voice became like he was talking to a child going up a few notch’s as his hand rested on your stomach,kissing you while he reached up and his other hand took his hat off putting it on you.

Country is more then the way of wearing boots and hats,the jeans that become muddy or worn.It’s the way you live and your mindset about things,protecting family and animals.The love to rather be covered in mud and laughing joking around then in sparkly dresses and heels wanting to go out on the town,it’s something that’s set in your heart from birth,not something you are just taught.

You couldn’t help but laugh hiding you face into his chest as he started reciting save a horse and ride a cowboy,feeling your face become red feeling his hand gently rubbing your stomach,having not known this side of Leonardo as he mumbled “is it bad this gives me a hard on” causing you to pull away laughing.

While years passed quite quickly,your baby girl was turning one,an you woke up that morning feeling yourself fall completely in love with Leonardo all over again.Leonardo in middle of the living room while forever and ever amen played out,he was dancing with your guys little girl who started busting out giggling and wrapping her whole hand around his thumb.

#top gun #top gun x you #top gun x y/n #top gun x reader #wolfman #wolfman reader #topgun wolfman #topgun Leonardo wolfe

[garrothromeave]

mcd garroth + laurance headcanons for the sake of me posting something while working on my long-ass post, also happy birthday blaze ily, 

garroth - total momma’s boy. seems obvious, but it’s true -- back in o’khasis, he was practically glued to the side of zianna. whenever she had to leave for a few days when he was younger, he’d cry if he couldn’t go with her. when he left for the guard academy, he wrote to zianna on a daily basis. to put it simply, he had separation anxiety. the hardest thing about faking his death was not being able to see or talk to his mother. - incredible piano player. his father made him take lessons when he was younger for quite a few years, but he was naturally very good at it. he never mentions this skill to anyone. while they were at malachi’s castle and were looking for materials before they left, garroth stumbled upon an old piano and played something. he got really into it, and laurance ended up stumbling on him playing. he made laurance swear to never tell anyone about it. - when garroth was around eight or nine, his stutter was so bad that garte didn’t let him speak in public or around any people other than the family out of shame. vylad and zianna used to help garroth with his stutter.

- garroth is very sensitive to the saying “oh my irene.” growing up in the ro’meave house, it was taboo to use irene’s name in vein. or anywhere in o’khasis, really. nowadays he’s still very caustious whenever he says it, because he thinks that someone is going to yell at him. - horrified of getting hurt. back during the days of training in the guard academy, while he was very good with technique and fighting itself, he had a very bad flinching problem. overall, for the longest time, wounds and pain made garroth very uncomfortable. because of this fear of getting hurt, he has a bit of a stubble because of the one time he hurt himself while shaving.   - 6′4, because 6′11 is unbelievably tall and i honestly don’t even think that it’s canon? s’yeah. he seems 6′4 to me.

- garroth often sees new things and (internally) has this very child-like wonder response. he was sheltered for the entirety of his childhood and teenagehood. and after the guard academy, he stayed put in the same village for 5 years -- so he hasn’t experienced very much. he often wants to ask dozens of questions, but because of his shyness, he tends to just observe anything new very closely. which leads me to my next headcanon,

- because of o’khasis’ intolerance to many things, he was not very commonly exposed to magick’s users. the first magicks user that he directly met would be zoey, and he was very nervous when talking to her the first time he met her. when garroth gets to know her more, she catches on that he’s curious about a lot of things, and offers to tell him about things. he declines, and he regrets that decision to this day.

- as stated before, o’khasis isn’t very tolerable of things, which caused garroth to develop incredibly bad internalized homophobia. when aphmau comes along, he gets a very strong desire to protect her (little do we know, this strong desire comes from his connection with esmund) and confuses it for/tries to convince himself that it’s romantic love. it is in fact love, just platonic. so basically, this man’s gay as hell.

- garroth has more freckles than any other ro’meave family member. he’s mildly insecure about his freckles, seeing them as a ‘childish’ trait, which is why he wasn’t very bothered with the idea of hiding his face with his helmet. 

- his hair is super curly. it used to be more tame, but as he got older, it got more curly. it’s usually a mess because he doesn’t know how to take care of it, but it somehow looks hot as hell. (no homo ofc.)

- garroth is allergic to blueberries. 

- raven was garroth’s first genuine connection since he left o’khasis. zenix was his second. he loves raven a lot, and hates that he can’t see him as often as he’d like to.

- garroth is a total cat person. don’t get me wrong, he loves dogs, but if he were to choose between having one or the other, he’d choose to have a cat. he had a pet cat when he was little that he still thinks about a lot. (probably named sprinkles, just for the hell of it.)

- because of how he grew up, garroth’s actually a very picky eater. while he’d never admit it to himself or anyone else, he misses the more “rich-people” food he was spoiled with. 

- garroth isn’t actually that stupid, when he first arrived at pheonix drop, he had a name in mind that he wanted to go by (to better hide his identity). however, when his name was asked by someone, he panicked and “garroth” accidently slipped. he beat himself up for the longest time after that. the only reason he finally let go is because no one had ever pointed out how/seemed suspicious he had the same name as the deceased first-born son of o’khasis.

laurance - his hair grows decently quick, so even after cadenza cut it for him, it only took about 4 months for it to grow back just past his shoulders. he prefers it having some length to it anyways, and usually ties is back into a ponytail. after the irene dimension, he would let nekoette braid his hair. - has a very lanky body type. naturally has long limbs, and would often get called a ‘stick’ when he was younger. he’s about 5′11. but don’t confuse his thinner stature for weakness, he matches garroth’s strength easily.

- bi icon. fuck that “you were my first kiss” bullshit he gives aphmau, the list exists and while it’s stupid and weird, according to it, garroth was his first kiss. which is fuckin funny as hell if you think about it.

- laurance is very good with animals. more so rodents and smaller creatures, like squirrels, birds, rabbits, etc. cadenza was convinced that laurance could talk to animals for the longest time. he even had this little mouse that would pop in his house. however, on the contrary, larger animals -- not so much. he’s shit with horses and cows, especially. 

- incredible singer. has serenaded aphmau on multiple occasions, and has even gotten her to sing along with him from time to time. he sang for malachi to help him fall asleep every night since the day they met him. this caused him to start singing for levin at night as well. when laurance saw malachi again after the 15 year jump, within the first few days of his return, malachi asked for laurance to sing for him again just like he used to. which brings me to my next headacanon,

- laurance saw malachi as his own child, and treated him as such. they were very close, and malachi was the most heartbroken over laurance’s disappearance since he saw him very much as a father. it wasn’t that laurance favored malachi over levin that created this bond, it was the fact that laurance first-hand saw a child in need of a home and someone to love him, and it reminded him of when he was small. 

- he’s a sucker for bets. gambles, wages, anything like that. while he’s not directly a gambler, if someone offers he’s sure to accept. he’s a risk-taker, and ends up getting really into it. this also branches into his competitive behavior. he’ll be really upset and possibly a bit petty if he loses. why else do you think he still hadn’t given castor the 5 dollars he owes him?

- slingshot master. you give this motherfucker a slingshot he can kill someone with his impeccable aim. he’s also very good with a bow and arrow or any sort of projectile, but he’s the best with a slingshot. when he was younger, he hand-made slingshots from materials that he’d find around the forest.

- speaking of the forest, laurance is a very nature-loving soul. when he moved to meteli when he was adopted, he’d often go and explore the forests nearby. he and cadenza would use their imaginations and play all sorts of games. laurance and her especially loved to climb trees, and would jump from branch to branch. this helped laurance become very flexible. this is also how he met sasha, she was sitting in his favorite tree one day and they just hit it off from there.

- after he was rescued from the nether, laurance frequently had nightmares that would lead into sleep paralysis episodes. the first time it happened garroth had been looking over him (since this was around the time when laurance first got back and garroth had allowed aphmau to go do her lord tasks while he watched over him) and when he had the ability to move and speak again, he started freaking out. garroth had to calm him down and assure laurance that he’d talk to zoey about what happened. garroth and zoey are the only ones that know of laurance’s sleep paralysis, mainly because he didn’t want to worry aphmau or anyone else. zoey often gave him ways to cope with it. it didn’t happen every night, but it did occur at least 5-6 times a month. his sleep paralysis stopped the moment he entered the nether for the second time. 

- the first time laurance heard he’d made the list for the jury of nine, he felt honoured. when he was oblivious to how corrupt it was, he saw it as a huge opportunity. after learning about it’s true nature, he was still glad that he’d made the list -- because him being on the list prevented another person from risking being on the list and being chosen to be apart of the jury.

- yes, laurance can cook very will in this universe as well. it’s not that he was taught, it’s more that he can look at ingredients and just throw them together to make great combinations. zoey also taught him a few things.

- laurance does not know his real birthday. malachi does not remember his. since cadenza had “given” laurance a birthday, he offered to let malachi share his unofficial birthday with him. malachi accepted. 

garroth + laurance

- laurance began referring to garroth as “pretty boy” after seeing his face. he continued to call him that for the first month of their friendship. garroth hated it, and that’s the only reason laurance eventually stopped.

- laurance and garroth are both very good story tellers, but after one incident where garroth was telling levin and malachi a story, he started stumbling a bit over his words and couldn’t articulate correctly, so laurance picked it up and continued it. from there, they took turns with the story and occasionally interrupted one another to add a detail or plot point, and after that, malachi refused to listen to garroth or laurance separately when telling stories, because their collective minds came up with the most fascinating shit.

- garroth isn’t the best at coming up with insults because he’s simply too nice, but laurance loves to make fun of garroth (in good fun, of course). however, there is one thing that garroth could hold over laurance; and that was their height difference. whenever laurance would mess with him, garroth would just bring up height to piss laurance off. 

- when laurance regained his sight, him and garroth sparred very often. that’s when garroth realized how much strength laurance actually had, since he’d originally underestimated him. laurance, in all honesty, was equally surprised. their spars were pretty evenly matched.

- while these two are best friends, the amount of arguments they’ve had is insane. most of them were light-hearted and were more so disagreements, but sometimes things escalated and would result in yelling. that’s because laurance always took it a step too far. that, or garroth would try to disregard what they were talking about, which only made laurance more heated. but they’re both incredibly quick to forgive each other. once they had a really bad argument and didn’t talk for an entire hour afterwards, but once they saw each other again it was like they’d never fought. 

- since garroth grew up with everything and laurance often had to hunt and shit, garroth wasn’t amazing at it. laurance found out, originally teased garroth, but gave him tips and took him out and taught him how to hunt. garroth’s still shit at it when he does it alone, but when he does it with laurance he’s pretty decent. 

- garroth doesn’t drink. laurance does. laurance once tried to convince garroth to drink, but he refused -- which laurance respected, but garroth had to deal with drunk laurance for the rest of the night at the guard station. he learned things that he really wish he hadn’t that night. 

---

i had more for garroth and laurance’s relationship, but uh, i don’t really have time to write them down, so take these for now! i hope y’all enjoy them as much as i did writing them :]

#minecraft diaries #garroth ro'meave #laurance zvhal #aphmau

[mahvaladara]

For the OC questions (Sorry for being so late, been a busy.. gaming wise, weekend!) 90-100 for Mal 1-10 for Annika 20-30 for Maeve 40-50 for a teenage Syra perhaps?

[Ga]Mal[l] Sullyvan

90. What is their occupation?

Gamall is a full-time Wanderer, which is a type of Valasyr who specializes in wandering between cities, countries, planets, and even universes seeking to harness as much knowledge and power as possible. They are also often called knowledge and power devourers.

Currently, Gamall is a full-time Biologist and freelance Gardener.

91. Do other characters respect your OC, if so, is it out of fear? Or do they respect your OC because they like them?

Depends. His family respects him dearly. From where he came he was respected out of utter fear. But those days are in the past and he is living a new life and earning respect by hard labor.

92. If they were given minutes to live, what would they do? Who would they want to see and say?

Gamall once was in this position, and he had wanted back then to see his former wife Caitlyn and former son Seimei before disappearing. He went and got a few last minutes with them, but he didn't die. He wished he did. For time came to claim Caitlyn eventually, and as for Seimei, he killed the boy when he came seeking "revenge" for the death of his father.

He now has come to the conclusion that if death ever comes for him, it's not like he can prepare for it. So he lives every day as if he only had minutes to live, seeking to amass as much fulfillment as he can, rather by the form of material goods, personal knowledge, spiritual power, hedonistic pleasure, or life experiences.

93. How do they deal with stress?

Gamall is already quite the shittalker and blabbermouth, but when under stress that becomes worse. But he is paradoxal and it mostly depends on the type of stress, it can either be met with agression or silence and either of the two are always foreboding.

94. Do they have a more submissive or dominate personality type?

Versatile personality. Gamall adapts well to the people around him, but he is not a pushover and he despises whoever tries to dominate him by force. He does enjoys playing the sub as much as the dom and though Gamall can actually be very manipulative, it is not on his interests to dominate or command others, usually his manipulation only working to make sure people don't bother him.

95. Do they have a pet?

Currently no. But they'll have a lot of chickens and a lot of cows.

Gamall used to have a horse called Eggplant, but there's a running gag that if he gets a horse it'll die, so... yea, that happened.

96. Do they have a stash of weapons?

Pffft. They don't exactly need too, they can kill you with their mind alone, but this is the type of asshole who will kill you with a duck if you tell him he can't.

97. Where do they live? Who do they live with?

The farmlands. Gamall isn't keen on big cities or places with a lot of people around because it usually means trouble and pain for him and he'd rather not.

98. How do they calm themselves down?

Depends. He has found out that addressing a fireball to whom it may concern is a great way to calm down, but he can't exactly commit capital murder everytime someone annoys him. Gardening currently has been providing him a lot of calm and quiet he needs.

99. Are they co-dependent?

No.

100. Are they a day, or night person?

Night person, it helps that he doesn't need sleep.

1. How do they present themselves to others?

Anika comes off as a smart, kind and fun girl, your level-headed rich girl who's always had everything she needed.

To her dad however, she's a rebelious teenager finally breaking free from a sheltered and controled life. She is finally learning magic rather he wants her to or not and continuing on his footsteps trying to find a way to return Apollo's heart and find a way to save Arlo.

2. Do they like animals?

Yes. Anika had a cat as a child, but due to her mother's illness she had to give away the cat. After her mother passed away, Anika and Apollo adopted a dog. Anika ended up being the one to keep the dog, since Arlo hurt their dog when they tried to take it to Apollo's home.

3. How do they dress?

Anika dresses in a very sporty rich way. She prefers wearing high end sports clothes, leggings, crop tops and track suits, anything she can move well in and exercise in. Sometimes she pairs them with fishnets and accessories that give her a more sporty witch feel.

4. How many languages do they know?

Anika speaks english and spanish.

5. How big is their family?

Currently it's just her and her father. Her mother used to be around but she was killed by an unknown dragon who her father refuses to name.

6. What is their purpose in the story?

Anika is Apollo's best friend and girlfriend, she is also a witch and a dragon hunter, who is currently aiding Apollo in finding a cure for Arlo's rot the same way her father before sought her mothers. After her mother's death, Anika decided she had a duty to Apollo to help him save her brother, as it was Anika who lured Arlo to the trap.

7. Do they know how to fight?

Anika is petite, but Anika can kick your ass. Her father taught her kickboxing.

8. What is their back story?

Anika is the only daughter of Isaiah and Melantha Lorenn, she moved with her father to Windenburg when he was offered a position as a principle at the school. She lived a pretty uneventful life despite her father's side work as a dragon hunter and spellcaster. Anika herself was a powerful spellcaster but her father kept her away from the major things he was doing. Eventually, Anika fell to a trick to capture the two child dragons, her best friend Apollo and Arlo.

9. Why is their name, their name?

I really liked the sound of Anika, and since Isaiah and Melantha also had unique names, I wanted Anika to have a name that would feel like she's a girl born into the 1%.

10. Do they have any nick names?

Ani, by Apollo, Queen B(itch) by Arlo. Princess by many of her school peers.

20. What do they look like?

See thee above.

21. What are their hobbies?

Maeve's hobbies include watching football and baseball games, writting research law papers, cooking and working out.

22. What are their ticks?

Their what?

23. Do they like children?

Maeve has five children, her eldest twins Arlo and Apollo, her middle daughter, Syracusia, and her youngest twins Talia and Dimitri.

24. How do they react to being around wild animals?

Maeve is pretty brave and adventurous but as most people she tends to avoid wild foxes and other animals.

25. If they were given the task to prank someone, who would it be, what would they do, and would the prank work?

It would be Mal and it would be the yelling "I feel good!" prank when he was busy spraying bugs, doing the laundry or when he's vacumming.

26. Do they have any survival skills?

Yes, she can pitch a tent, filter water and cook most wilderness food. She also knows how to hunt, since her father enjoyed hunting pigeons, ducks and rabbits. She knows how to make a snare trap.

27. Are they more book smart or street smart?

50/50. She's very book smart when it comes to education and law, but has a lot of street smart when dealing with her clients, and the cases she has. She knows what the jury are more likely to simpathise with and usually builds her case defense around this.

28. How do they get out of a difficult situation?

Usually by trying to solve it. If she can't solve it, she asks for help, but she is not one to run away from a situation.

29. Do they use their body, mind, personality or force to get what they want?

Personality and smarts.

30. What music do they enjoy?

Maeve enjoys rock, old school rock and roll.

40. How do they become who they are?

Syra is the lucky three. She has a very calm and uneventfull life despite what luck befalls are siblings, and she is lucky to get two younger siblings, so she never got very cotroling parents breathing over her shoulder, so she was allowed to be herself. She has a very supporting father in Mal, who supports her every decision, and a big brother who loves her and whenever he is well, Arlo will go with her to do whatever she wants.

41. How was their childhood?

She had a happy childhood. Though they moved when she was a kid, she was young enough for it to not cause a negative impact on her growing up. At the contrary of her older siblings, Syra wasn't forced to go to a private school, and being in public school allowed her to be a regular girl without the pressure of being examplar.

42. Are they close with anyone who is going to screw them over?

One of her friends is a mooch, who's only around her to get good grades and to steal her stuff, she doesn't know this yet.

43.How do they adapt to different situations? Do they adapt at all?

Syra adapts pretty well to her surroundings and situations. She's a versatile girl who knows she has parents and siblings who will help her if she needs.

44. How do they speak? Examples - Are they soft spoken, hot heated, vulgar

Syra is soft spoken, quiet and calm.

45. Are they opposed to violence?

Very much. Syra grew up watching her two older brothers getting into very violent altercations, especially when Arlo was feeling well. She usually would get in the middle of the two. She now knows why they'd fight.

46. When is their birthday?

Syra was born in Autumn, I think.

47. Are they quick to judge?

Not really. Syra is very empathetic.

48. Do they have anything they are trying to hide from others?

No.

49. Do they act different around different people?

No.

50.Do they enjoy the arts?

Syra enjoys theater, film and music.

#syra #mal #maeve #anika #izayoichan

[eloquated]

Kili & Elladan, @murkhith

All was not quiet in the Last Homely House, east of the sea.  From the high walls, Elladan could see the dark procession of dwarves as they wound along the side of the valley.  Even if they rode hard, the newcomers would arrive at the front doors before they could greet them– though not by much, he reckoned.

“Dwarves, in our valley!”  Elrohir groused beside his twin, pinch mouthed and doubting, “Who knows what trouble they bring!”

“Or what trouble they seek to escape.”  Elladan countered, and pressed his heels to his horse’s flanks, guiding her back towards their party, “They wouldn’t venture here if they thought they had other options.  Hear them out, otorno.  They may have come with good stories.”

That evening came with music and feasting– and the best seats in the house for eavesdropping on both his father’s solemn conversation with Mithrandir and the gruff Dwarf lord, and his companions chatter among themselves, were at the front of the balcony with the musicians.  

Individually, the sons of Elrond didn’t attract as much attention– they were fine featured and dark haired, but so were many of their brethren.  Together, people tended to pay them more mind– either from the novelty of their symmetry, or because they’d heard rumours of the elflord’s mischievous heirs!

From his seat, Elladan watched as the mood of the stately meal began to change.  One of the Dwarves (a man with a very jaunty hat indeed!) leapt up onto the table, and Elladan could see the looks of horror on Lindir and Vendethiel’s faces at the raucousness of it all.

Elladan bit his tongue to bury a laugh, but it wasn’t in his nature to hide his levity– and by the end of the first verse, despite a sharp and despairing look from Lindir, Elladan was laughing and tapping his foot to the melody. 

“I can never remember, good sir, if the next verse is the little dog or the hornéd cow.”

“Elladan!” Hissed the elfmaid beside him, sharp and quiet, “You’ll only encourage him!”

Elladan ignored her warning, and flashed the Dwarves a grin, “I should thank you for bringing such lively music to our evening meal!”

...

To say the elves were a bore would have been an understatement. Even if they had been welcomed to the kingdom, Kili saw the glances that the elves kept throwing at them; some curious but most distrusting and suffering, as if they couldn’t wait to get rid of the company already. He doubted they would have been allowed to stay without Thorin and the whole royal respect thing.

Not that he knew too much about those.

But Mahal was he bored out of his mind, and the leaf on his plate seemed more suspicious the more he stared at it. Surely it was poisoned or would taste absolutely vile at least. They weren’t rabbits damnit, they needed more than some leaves to keep their stomach filled. And the music, Mahal help him the music. It was dreadful and he felt as if he was taking part in someone’s funeral.

Luckily it seemed like he wasn’t the only one thinking the same way, as Bofur soon jumped up and started singing a very known dinking song much to the elves dismay. The dwarves, however, were living for it. Their voices rose in volume and some of them started clapping and laughing, some even rising up to spin around the table. 

The sudden words to his left caused Kili to look up, eyebrow rising in surprise at the mischievous gaze he was met with. Well well, it seemed like the evening had taken an unexpected but pleasant turn. Perhaps not every elf acted like a warg had crawled up their arse. 

“It’s about the horned cow,” Kili snickered, turning his full attention towards the elf. “I’m not sure your fellow mates would agree with you though, it seems as if they would rather be anywhere else than here.” 

...

The silence that followed the short exchange was almost deafening.  Both Elves and Dwarves alike looked slowly from Elladan to Kili, united for a single moment in their baffled confusion.  There had been animosity between the two races for longer than anyone could remember; and even now, when days were meant to be peaceful, there was suspicion and doubt.

Elves did not laugh at the jokes of Dwarves.

And Dwarves did not find amusement in the humour of Elves.

That was simply the way things had always been.

“Of course!”  Elladan chimed in return, “They also keep a hornéd cow

as proud as any queen.  It’s been an age since I’ve heard it, and longer since I’ve heard it sung so well.  Your minstrel– I’m sorry good sir, I didn’t hear your name– has a rare talent!”  Elladan’s attention flickered to Bofur only long enough to offer him a brief and smiling nod.

From the corner of his eye, he could see the sidelong glances he was receiving from the table in the corner.

It didn’t take elf eyes to read the paternal long-suffering on his ada’s face, or the bemused and too-knowing look on Mithrandir’s.  But as Elladan hadn’t actually offended their honored guests, both of them seemed to have chosen discretion as the better part of valor.  Lest Elrohir take it into his head to appear and cause trouble of his own!

“Ah, your music may be more lively, but that doesn’t mean ours must be less lovely!”  Setting down his own instrument, Elladan swung his feet around the side of his stool with an easy, long-legged grace.  His tunic was of simpler cut than most of the others; it slanted above his knees, instead of draped around his ankles, and his tall, grey boots looked worn by years of wear.  

“I would hate to think that we had made you feel less than welcome.”  There was an irrepressible tease in Elladan’s grey eyes as he held a hand to his heart, and offered Kili a very small bow, motioning to an empty seat and the Dwarves table, “Might I join you?  That way I can enjoy your music, instead of inflicting mine on you!”

...

This elf was definitely whittled from a completely different tree than others of his race. There was humor in the tone of his voice, and a teasing glint in his eyes Kili knew he had seen on his own reflection many, many times. The elves on the other tables began to whisper quietly, their glances shifting between the two of them and for a moment, the dwarf enjoyed the confusion they had thrown the elves in. Even Thorin had paused in his talk with Elrond to shoot him a warning look, one that Kili brushed off with a grin. 

Of course, he knew about Thorin’s hatred towards the elves. 

But those grudges were not his own. 

Personally, the elves had not done him wrong. 

And he could not deny his growing curiosity towards the other race either; after all, he had winked at the harp player just to see them almost roll their eyes unimpressed. But this one was different; this one seemed to answer fire with fire, wishing to cause mayhem and stir the almost droning atmosphere the clearing had sunken beneath. 

“Of course, make yourself comfortable,” Kili smirked motioning towards the empty seat, and those around him snickered and leaned forward out of curiosity. “I trust you know how… different our definition of celebration is, however. The least we’d want to do is scare you off,” he taunted lightly, resting his head in his hand.

...

For a long, suspended moment, both Elves and Dwarves seemed to wait on the edges of the their seats for the replies.  For longer than anyone could properly remember, there had been bad blood between the Elves and the children of the stones, stemming from some ancient and long-forgotten slight.  

In truth, even Elladan hadn’t been certain how the Dwarves would respond to his request!  Most of the inhabitants of the Last Homely House knew better than to encourage the twin’s mischief, but the Dwarves had no such warning– and seemed determined to scandalize the peaceful halls with their laughter.

Good.  It was long passed due!

“I’m quivering, mellon nin!  But you may find me harder to scare away than you think.”  Which was a challenge, after a fashion.  A laughing, good hearted challenge where the only stakes were pride.  Elladan’s grey eyes were bright and mirrored the silver circlet he wore on his brow.  And which glinted, polished bright, when the elf lord swept it from his head and set it unceremoniously on the table!  

“Is the sallet not to your liking?”  Elladan asked, the corners of his mouth twitching upwards, “No wonder you’ve hardly eaten a bite, dry leaves are food for horses.”  His posture was relaxed as he leaned a little closer to Kili (much to the sharp-eyed wariness of some of the people in the room!) and motioned to a small glass bottle on the table, “You pour that over it.  But having snuck down to the kitchens earlier, I believe roast boar is the next course, and probably more to your taste!”

...

He hadn’t really paid much attention to the circlet on the elf’s head before it was moved over to the table, and Kili felt his eyebrows rise to his hairline. So, even the elves had mischievous princes among them. A quick glance over his shoulder told him his brother had seen the same thing, and the grin on his lips was filled with amusement. Even if Fili was the calmer from the two of them, he knew his brother would appreciate a good jab at his elders now and then. 

His attention was next directed to the bottle of whatever liquid it contained, and Kili wrinkled his nose. “I fail to understand how soggy leaves would make the taste better, but I am glad to hear we’re served actual food at some point,” he snickered, taking a moment to properly study the elf beside him and the longer he stared, the more he noticed the atmosphere grow uncomfortable as the elves seemed to battle between watching them and avoiding what was happening. 

The dwarves, however, had quickly grown bored of the exchange and were back to laughing and jabbing at each other over the table as yet another cheery melody filled the air. 

Huffing out a laugh, Kili motioned around with his hand. “Do you often scandalize your people like this? Shouldn’t they be glad that their prince is getting along with the kin they most seem to have troubles with?”

A teasing glint lit up in Kili’s brown eyes. “And you should know that it’s not smart to challenge a dwarf. As some would say, we have no shame. Could have you running before you’d speak another fancy elvish word.”

...

People ventured to Imladris for peace, and learning, and for healing.  Mostly humans, and the occasional elf– but the dwarves had kept their own council for longer than Elladan had been alive, and he had few encounters with the children of the stones.  

“By making them not taste like dry leaves!”  Elladan’s laugh was a merry thing; a good natured tease at Kili’s expense.  He hadn’t expected to meet a kindred spirit within the dwarven company; but it was a wonderful surprise to have been proven wrong!  Kili wasn’t like the solemn, old greybeards– and from his space at the table, Elladan could feel the eyes of the room as they lingered on the back of his neck.  

There were things good little elf boys and girls didn’t not do– but the twin sons of Lord Elrond had never listened to that wisdom!

“Ah, you know who I am, then!”  He beamed down at Kili, and inclined his head in the cheekiest of little bows, “And I know you, nephew of the great Thorin Oakenshield!  I suppose neither of us has the advantage, and we’ll both be soundly lectured about propriety as soon as your uncle, or my ada, catches us without a crowd.”

Somehow, Elladan didn’t think Kili was the sort of run away from trouble.  Especially when it was the trouble he’d caused!

“I’ll bet you on that!  If you can’t scare me away before the end of the meal, then you have to let me show you around Imladris.”  Elladan tilted his head, and fixed Kili with a slanted, mischievous smile, “Unless, of course, you don’t think you can do it?”

...

Well, seemed like the cat was out of the bag. Of course, the elves would know who he was; while neither he or his brother carried a circlet nor a crown on their heads, it was no secret that Thorin had taken both of his nephews with him on this journey. And seeing how Thorin only glared at him instead of anyone else, it made being invisible a bit harder. “Ah, they can try. But I have a feeling neither one of us will listen to them for too long,” Kili laughed, tapping his fingers against the table. “Otherwise, we would know better than to talk to each other, at least in their opinion.“ 

He felt great amusement that only kept growing as Elladan continued to tease him, clearly not bothered by the stares nor the whispers. Perhaps this was a tale people would eventually hear after their time was over; how the two different princes caused mayhem during their first meal together, and nothing was ever the same ever since. 

The thought felt bizarre yet hilarious. 

At the dare presented to him, Kili’s grin only grew wider and those close to him seemed to freeze in place before shooting the elf varying looks of pity and humor. 

"Dare accepted,” he purred, exhaling a small laugh. “But I don’t play nice, or fair. If you end up being traumatized for life, you have no one else to blame but yourself.” The tone of his voice was teasing, and he could practically feel his nerves vibrating with excitement as he leaned even closer, staring at the prince with a smirk. It had been a long while since he last had the chance to tease someone, and now he was allowed to do it to an elven prince. And either way, he’d win. Spending more time with Elladan didn’t seem that bad of a price to pay if he’d lose. 

Which he wouldn’t. 

He had never lost.

...

Elladan was the taller, but Kili was stronger and much broader, especially through the shoulders– sat side by side, they looked strangely balanced, wearing complimentary expressions of mischievous challenge.  

At their table, Thorin and Elrond exchanged glances of wary long-suffering; and if neither were willing to apologize to the other for the behaviour of their kind?  Well, it seemed as though they were willing to let the young be young (provided they didn’t cause too much mayhem for the peaceful city!)

“I’m certain I can endure the wiles of one dwarf!”  

But to the other dwarves’ surprise, and the elves’ chagrin, Elladan didn’t press his playful dare.  Instead, he crossed his long legs beneath the table, and reached for one of the slim, tapered bottles; he refilled the glasses around him, and then poured one of his own. He enjoyed the raucous music, and laughed as every verse of the old drinking song was a little more ridiculous than the one before.

In short?  Elladan let Kili stew in his own impatience, as the merry elf slowly… slowly… almost imperceptibly, slid closer to the dwarf beside him.  Elves were notoriously patient.  And Kili was not the only one who refused to play nice, or fair!

By the time the servers had begun moving between the tables with great, heated plates of roast boar, potatoes, and refreshingly bitter greens, some of the other guests had noticed Elladan’s slow shift– amusement and quiet chuckles filtering through the room as they cast Kili disconcertingly sidelong looks.  

...

The silence that followed their dare was heavy and filled with tension, the dwarf prepared for anything the elf would throw his way. Yet to his surprise, Elladan had gone silent and seemed to enjoy the celebration once more instead of making good of his words. He knew he was good, but he hadn’t thought he was good enough to scare the elf off without doing anything. Snorting amused, Kili spent the next hour talking with his kin, joining in their laughter and singing with a jolly spirit.

It wasn’t until he turned to look at the servants that he realised just how close Elladan had shifted, and for a brief second it startled the dwarf, the surprise visible on his face before he quickly covered it with a grin. So that’s the kind of game Elladan wished to play?

He was more than up for it.

As the plates were placed on the tables in front of them and the heavenly smell reached the dwarves noses, Kili wasn’t surprised to find other dwarves immediately sinking into the meat with enough vigour to make the elves almost gag in disgust. As tempting as the food was, he couldn’t just let the trick Elladan did go unnoticed.

Especially when those close to them seemed amused about the entire situation.

“No need to feel so shy,” Kili smirked, throwing a casual arm around Elladan’s waist, ignoring the sharp gasps he could hear from his left. He was sure someone even dropped a fork, if the clatter was something to go by.

“If you wished to be close, all you had to do was say so,” he added, brown eyes glinting playfully, the warmth under his hand almost distracting.

Who knew elves were so warm?

Besides, he could hear the dwarves around him whoop and laugh, boosting his confidence even further. Surely, Elladan would be shocked with the touch and pull away from their table.

...

The elven folk tended to value their privacy, and their love– though it made for wonderful stories– was courtly and gentle in public.  You would be more likely to see an elven couple with elegantly laced fingers, than with their arms around one another!  Such displays were for other people– younger races with hotter, quicker blood, and less decorum.

Elladan tensed for an instant when Kili thumped his arm around his waist.  It was heavy and warm, a solid band of dense dwarven bone and muscles worked hard by their travels.  It was unexpected; in truth, he’d wagered on Kili getting flustered at the attention of the rest of the room– clearly he’d underestimated how stubborn and resilient he was!  

“How generous you are with your affection, mellon nin!”  Elladan teased, his tone light and unshaken, “But alas?  I was merely trying to get a better look at the lovely clasp you have in your hair.”

His arm probably shouldn’t have settled so easily around Elladan’s waist, and Kili’s hand shouldn’t have slotted as comfortably as it did against his hip– and yet? 

Despite the scandalized looks fixed on them (there was even a conspicuous silence from the dwarf that had been singing, and a slack-jawed look of shock from the youngest of their company) Elladan grinned.

It was a good game.  And suddenly, a much more interesting one!

The dwarf across the table watched the two of them with a dark look of disapproval, and a voice to match, “Mind yourself.”  He intoned flatly, but the message, ‘Don’t get so damn close to one of those pointy eared types’ was more than clear.

...

“Ah, it’s alright, don’t be such a spoilsport,” Kili laughed glancing at Dwalin, whose look seemed to turn even more thunderous if possible. Both he and Thorin shared the same hatred towards the elves, so he wasn’t that surprised when the older one had spoken up. Still, it wasn’t Dwalin’s words that caused him to hesitate for a moment.

It was Elladan’s words about his hair and the clasp residing in there, the tips of his ears turning a lighter shade of red as the others around him snickered and nudged his side. Hair after all, was one of the most intimate things to the dwarves. Only close family and lovers were allowed to touch them, much less braid or play with them.

He doubted Elladan knew, but then again, the elf had surprised him before.

“… It’s a gift,” Kili finally spoke out, his words a tad more quieter and flustered as he glanced at Elladan and then away. The hand around the elf’s waist tightened a bit out of instinct, the fabric smooth against the palm of his hand. “My mother made me and my brother a matching set when we came off age.”

As sweet as the memory was, he couldn’t let Elladan win their small bet.

Hunger forgotten for now, Kili scraped up his dignity and confidence by allowing the fingers from his other hand to glide over Elladan’s own briefly before reaching over for the plate of meat.

“Are you often interested in dwarves? I’m sure we’re setting off a bunch of rumors right now,” he teased.

...

Though their friends and relatives were watching them with mingled looks of embarrassment and horror, Elladan knew that this was nothing more than a game.  A battle of wills to pass an otherwise dull meal; and for Kili, a dull meal in a strange place.  

Instead of teasing the dwarf for the mention of his mother, or the token she’d made for him, Elladan merely nodded and let the point slide uncommented.  The dwarven company was far from home, and Elladan would not score points with the mention of their distant family.  

And as intrigued as he found himself, (and he was!) there were some things you didn’t ask in such mixed company.  

“Interested?”  He asked instead, the grey of his eyes brightening at the cheeky question, “I’m interested in all the creatures of Arda!”  With a slight shift, Elladan crossed on leg over the other; a gesture the rest of the table couldn’t see, but which angled his body subtly closer to Kili.  “According to my very patient father, I’m incurably curious about all the world outside of Imladris.”

Elladan paused a beat, his fingers curled loosely around the stem of his glass, “And how could I fail to wonder about your people?  I couldn’t fathom living with tons of stone over my head.  And yet!”  His grin was half lost against the fragile green glass, “There must be something to it.  Otherwise your noble people wouldn’t do it.  So clearly there is more I have yet to learn!”

...

The answer pulled a laugh from the dwarven prince, and he had to lower the piece of meat he had bit into lest he’d choke on it. “It seems like that makes it two of us. Mahal knows that my uncle has suffered with my curiosity and I’ve gotten lectured more than once about it. Suppose there’s one of those waiting for me after the celebration too.”

A sudden urge to show Elladan their home, the way of their life rose in his mind, and he tried to imagine the elf’s face if he was to see the huge furnaces or the hidden baths carved deep within the mountains. Perhaps one day he had the chance to do so.

Granted that Thorin would not murder him first.

“Did you ever think you would actually be flirting with a dwarf?” Kili teased lightly, the corner of his lips quirking as he allowed his fingers to tap Elladan’s waist; just a reminder where his arm still rested against the fabric. The motion did not go unnoticed by some of the elves, who seemed actually shocked that their little game was still going further. Perhaps they had thought one of them would have withdrawn already.

Taking it a bit further, Kili allowed his gaze to trail up Elladan’s form very slowly, making it clear that he was enjoying what he was seeing with a smirk. “Is your plot to make me lose so you could have me in private?”

There, surely now Elladan would find him repulsing and run away.

...

The crowd had wagered (and hoped, for the sake of their own peace of mind!) that the game would have ended long before this.  That one of them would have wisely accepted defeat, and allowed the natural and long-standing lines to be drawn back between them.  Elladan could feel the weight of their eyes on the back of his neck– the resignation from the high table, and the suspicion from their own.

But when Elladan looked over at Kili, his arm still heavy and warm around his waist, he could see his own mischief reflected there.  It didn’t matter so much that they were different, when so much of what made them them was the same.

“Flirting?  Perhaps not.  But I must say… I’m not the one trying to shock our audience with such audacious displays.”  It took everything in Elladan’s will not to burst out laughing, especially when the youngest of the dwarves gasped a shallow sound of shock and clamped a hand over his own mouth, his ears turning bright red.

Elladan hadn’t expected the warmth of Kili’s appraising gaze to be such a tangible thing, it simmered like static on his skin beneath the light linen of his tunic.  If anything, it stirred the temptation to lean in closer, instead of fleeing the table!

“I believe, mellon nin, that you set the terms of the wager.”  A small, fae smile played triumphantly at the corners of Elladan’s mouth, and he motioned to the servers who were entering the balcony with trays laden with sweets.  “You claimed no elf was brave enough to endure the company of dwarves– and yet?  Here I am.  Closer than when I sat down.  In fact–” 

Elladan lightly tapped his fingers on the back of Kili’s wrist, “You seem determined to keep me here.”

...

This was not working.

Elladan was surprisingly resilient for an elf; had he made the bet with anyone else, they would have given up ages ago based on their shocked and suffering looks. For once, it even seemed that Thorin was agreeing with the elves about something, his uncle heaving a sigh before giving up in trying to keep his nephew in check.

“I admit, you are tougher to break than I thought,” Kili hummed, pulling his arm finally free from around Elladan’s waist much to their audience’s relief. Weirdly enough, he found himself craving for the contact but the elf was right; how could he leave if he was holding onto Elladan?

The light touch against his wrist sent a small shiver down Kili’s spine; he couldn’t recall a time when someone had touched his skin with such gentleness.

It felt almost odd.

He really shouldn’t be thinking like that.

“But I still have a chance,” he said picking up a long string of sweet from the plate, placing the other end between his lips. The dwarves around him started laughing as he held the other end for Elladan, challenge heavy in his eyes, a snicker slipping past his lips. “Ready to back down?”

...

Elladan was grateful he couldn’t see his father’s expression– or Thorin’s, for that matter– from where he was sitting. It was one thing to tease, and flirt, but another entirely to share a kiss with someone he’d just met.  Elves didn’t tend to blush, but Elladan could feel the heat slowly crawling up the back of his neck and across his cheeks.

The dwarves seemed to find it hilarious, their laughter holding a jeering and triumphant note, already celebrating Kili’s victory over one of those pointy eared types.

It wasn’t the idea of being close to Kili that was flustering him; the place where the dwarf’s arm had been felt too light, too cold, too conspicuously bereft.  A ridiculous thing, for both of them!  They were already so close that he couldn’t miss the way Kili shivered at his touch– but with the whole of the room waiting for his response, Elladan had no time to muse over their odd reactions.

Instead of bolting from the table (as the other dwarves were wagering he would.  Silly fools!) he leaned into Kili’s side.  Elladan smelled of fresh air and road dust, lingering from his long ride that afternoon, and his black hair tickled Kili’s cheek when he lowered his mouth beside his ear.  “You leave me a difficult decision,”  He whispered, voice pitched low to keep from being overheard.

“I could rise to your new challenge, but at such a cost.”  His voice lilted with amusement, “I wouldn’t cheapen a first kiss by placing our wager on it.  Do you truly want such a thing to be for the spectacle of our audience?”

...

For a brief moment Kili thought he had won. He had seen the flash of uncertainty and surprise in Elladan’s grey eyes and the cheers that his friends shouted only cemented that feeling further.

However…

He hadn’t expected for Elladan to lean so close all of the sudden, and the scent of dust and sun hit his nose so quickly he was forced to suck in a breath only to freeze in spot as the whispered words ghosted over his sensitive ear. His body grew rigid and he breathed out a shuddering gasp, only loud enough for Elladan to hear.

To everyone’s shock, the candy fell from Kili’s parted lips and a bright shade of red climbed up his cheeks until they had also colored his ears.

He hadn’t even thought about sharing a kiss.

At most, he had expected for Elladan to snatch the candy with his fingers, or bite on the other end; there would have been space between their lips either way. Not much, but still enough for it not to be a proper kiss.

But now Elladan had planted that thought in his head and Mahal save him, he could not continue any further with the way it suddenly felt like his heart was threatening to leap up his throat. Surely it wasn’t as loud as he felt, the elf could not hear it right?

Kili pulled back slowly, the dark hair slipping down from his shoulders as he cleared his throat and stared at the table flustered. It was an odd sensation, to feel so at loss yet so excited, so… Nervous.

No one had made him feel nervous before.

His words while silent, sounded almost like a shout in the now quiet clearing.

“… I yield.”

...

Elladan had been around people with presence before, Imladris tended to attracted them like bees to honey.  But Kili had a different sort of magnetism to him, something that made Elladan feel strangely at ease, even though they’d barely met.  He shouldn’t have felt comfortable with his arm around him, or his chest pressed to Kili’s broad shoulder as he leaned close to whisper to him– but he did.

So close that he couldn’t mistake or ignore the rapid, racing beat of Kili’s heart; and to hope that dwarven hearing was much less sharp than his own.  

For a long moment, they hovered at the edge of a stalemate, until Kili’s words pieced the tension and Elladan felt the air rush from his lungs in a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding.  “Thank goodness.”  He breathed, a smile swiftly taking place of his heartfelt relief.  That had been far too close!

Elladan leaned back, swiftly trying to reclaim his composure, when one of the dwarves– the one that had been sitting across the table from them, his expression fixed in a dark, mottled anger– rose to his feet so sharply that his chair rocked and rattled, nearly tumbling over.

“You yield?!”  He demanded, ignoring the long suffering “Caution, brother..”  from a white beareded dwarf at the end of the table.  “It’s not bad enough we’re surrounded by these pointy-eared–”

Elladan couldn’t translate the snapped, gutteral Dwarven tongue.  But he doubted it was at all flattering!

...

He shouldn’t be missing Elladan’s warmth already.

He shouldn’t crave for more touches or to be able to inhale their scent further, maybe drown in it. The way he yearned for the elf Prince was confusing to say the least, and he didn’t like being confused. When he didn’t know something, Kili got overly protective about himself.

Easily agitated.

So it was not a surprise for the dwarves that once Dwalin started to lecture him for yielding, Kili grabbed a wad of green from a nearby plate and tossed them at the older dwarf. “Be quiet would you! That’s not your burden to carry,” he hissed, casting a flustered look towards Elladan as if to apologise with his eyes alone.

He knew his kin would not appreciate him losing, especially when he had practically given up. But he was sure if they had continued and that kiss had actually happened, it would have been much worse. Elladan was right, that was not something he’d wish for the entire party to see.

“What did he say?” Bofur asked from the far end of the table, not even trying to hide his amusement. “Must have been something bad for you to yield.”

“Please,” Kili groaned with a wave of his hand. “I merely got tired of the silly game, that’s all,” he lied, pushing himself away from the table. He hesitated before looking at Elladan.

“Do you want your price now? Don’t think we’ll get another chance before we have to leave, and the food is mostly eaten anyway.”

...

It wasn’t in Elladan’s nature to sit quiet when the people he cared about were in trouble.  More to the point, it wasn’t in his nature to sit quiet at all– but that was a very different sort of trouble.  For an instant, he wanted nothing more than to rise to his feet and shove the angry dwarf’s words back down his throat where they belonged.

And then Kili looked back at him, and there was something apologetic in his expression that made Elladan’s chest tighten unexpectedly.  He was no diplomat, and the company had run hard that day.  Been chased by wargs.  And faced an unfathomable journey yet ahead of them.  But mostly, it was that look that stayed the sharpness of his tongue.

“I told him that I wished to hear more about your adventures, and the kingdom you’re trying to free.  But such a conversation doesn’t fit within the stakes of our wager.”  Elladan told Bofur smoothly, and let Kili wave away the rest.  Several of the dwarves had the good grace to look a little shamefaced, all save Dwalin, who was furiously picking bits of greenery out of his beard!

Turning to Kili, Elladan reached across and plucked two of the sweet buns from the platter on the table, and tossed one lightly to his new friend.  “We should!  If I don’t get you back in time to sleep, you may fall asleep on your feet tomorrow.”

Elladan scooped his circlet off the table, and bowed elegantly to his father and Thorin, pressing the gleaming silver to his heart, “Máriessë alámenë, Ada… And good night, my lord.”

...

Kili caught the sweet bun with ease despite being caught by surprise from the throw, and felt gratitude wash over him like a wave as Elladan came up with such a convincing lie so quickly. Usually, the dwarf would have a sharp tongue and quick wit to respond to such teasing words, but oddly enough his brain felt nearly sluggish after the flustered state Elladan had left him in.

The only one he didn’t fool was his uncle and brother; while Fili gave him a cheeky grin and a look he would ask questions later, Thorin just seemed ready to drag him away by his ear.

He knew from experience how much that hurt.

“Thank you for the feast,” Kili said quickly, remembering his manners barely in time. After all, Elrond had prepared the celebration for them and fed them, giving them shelter even if their kin had been reluctant to take it.

Without another word he grabbed a hold of Elladan’s sleeve, dragging him away from the clearing. The need to get as far as possible burned in his chest, and even if he didn’t know where to go he still followed the marble stairs down as far as they lead, until the sound of songs and laughter was but a distant echo.

Only then did he stop and release his hold of the elf with a soft yet embarrassed chuckle. “That went well,” he huffed smiling, shifting weight from one foot to the other in a nervous gesture.

“… Thank you for coming up with the lie. You didn’t have to save me from their jests.”

...

While the elves of Imladris and their guests had lingered over their meal, the sky over the Last Homely House had darkened with the coming night.  Bright stars were beginning to shine through the deepening blackness, picking out the constellations that Elladan knew by heart.  

It was nearly summer, and beyond the elaborate windows and balconies, they could smell the freshness of the water that spilled in great waterfalls through the valley.  Elladan was quick on his feet as Kili dragged them both from the dining room, his chest feeling strangely effervescent and light.

“Better than either of us could have expected, I’d say!  I thought your friend was going to challenge me to a duel for your honor!”

When they finally stopped, he grinned down at Kili– without the table between them, he could see the dwarf more clearly, the muscled arms that had felt so at home around his waist, and the sheer sense of solid, capable strength that all his folk seemed to have.  In comparison, Elladan was tall, but willow thin; black haired and grey eyed, the pale elf looked at home in the cool silver light.

With a look that was equal parts impish and hopeful, Elladan held out his hand to Kili and wiggled his fingers teasingly, “I’ll let you thank me this once, but never again.  Next time, you’ll know I don’t leave my friends to be eaten alive. Even by their own company.  Now, I promised to show you some of Imladris that would be more to your liking, and I mean to keep my word!”

...

Knowing Dwalin, the dwarf would have challenged Elladan for sure if they hadn’t left when they did. Just like Thorin, the older dwarf felt the need to protect him and Fili from harm, especially if it came from elves. He hoped that eventually they would understand that no harm had been done, and it was truly merely a game between two mischievous princes.

A game he had lost, unfortunately.

That didn’t quell his fire, however, as he grinned up at the elf. “You might have won this time, but I demand a rematch later. You merely caught me by surprise with your words,” he stated, finally reaching out to link his fingers between Elladan’s own wriggling ones.

What was some hand holding after such blatant flirting after all? Yet the almost intimate gesture made him feel more nervous than what they had done by the table.

Elladan’s hand was slim and smooth against his own; where his own fingers were thicker and shorter, the elfs were long and elegant but still fit together with his own surprisingly well. He hadn’t really thought that fingers could be interesting before, yet now he found himself comparing them silently, the pale skin against his darker one a visible contrast how different they were.

“You definitely have more open space under the sky than we do,” Kili finally spoke out to break the silence, his smile almost a shy one as he turned to stare at the darkened sky above them. “It almost feels like one could get lost here where there are no walls.”

...

“So eager to lose again?  I’m sure I could indulge your rematch.  The next time I see you, then.”  The words felt like a promise when they left his lips, and the sincerity behind the words surprised even Elladan a bit.

The next time I see you.  

Neither of them knew what the next few months would bring, and the company were going in search of a dragon– across the deadly peaks of the Misty Mountains, and through the unkind darkness of the Greenwood, there were hundreds of miles left before the dwarves. And neither Elladan, nor Kili, could predict what that future would hold.

Stay alive, stay safe.  And I will see you again.

“I’d thought the same about your cities.  All the walls, and the weight over your heads!  How could you navigate the tunnels without getting yourself hopelessly lost?”  Elladan hadn’t been lying when he’d admitted to being curious about the dwarves; their lives were just so different!

At the table, their flirting, teasing game of one-upmanship had been half for the amusement of their audience.  But out here, as they stopped by one of the great windows, there was no excuse for the comfortable thread of their fingers, or the quickening of his heart when they came together so easily.

With a tug, Elladan hurried Kili along, eager as an elfling to show him the valley outside of the glittering house.  “How do you sleep without being afraid the roof will fall in on you?”

...

“How do you sleep out in the open?” Kili countered laughing, taking in the passing scenery. The scent of trees and flowers filled his nose, and he could hear the rumble of the waterfall close-by. Back home, all he could smell was dirt and earth, and all he could hear was the sound of hammer on an anvil and feel the heat of the flames against his skin.

But here the air was cool and fresh, and he had to admit it was a nice change.

“You do know the belief of how we came to be, right? We were born out of stone and that’s why we made stone into our home. It brings us comfort and safety, we carve rooms and furniture out of the material with ease for that same reason. It’s just a part of who we are,” Kili explained, giving Elladan’s hand a light squeeze.

He was glad no one else seemed to be around because of the celebration, he wasn’t sure how they would take it if they were to see the two of them now. The sensible thing to do would be to let go but he couldn’t make himself do so.

Besides, it didn’t seem that Elladan minded.

“Do you not feel vulnerable being open like this? No walls or ceiling to shelter from oncoming threats?” He asked curiously. “Your defences must be top-notch, considering you haven’t had any invasions.”

...

“Then you see the source of my curiousity!  Your people walk and talk, and breathe the same air as mine– and yet, your bones are made of a very different metal than mine.  The same differences that our people use as justification for their anger, are the same differences I want to understand!”  

Hand in hand, Elladan half pulled and half coaxed Kili along through the house.  The ceilings were high and the walls and windows seemed to have been built in harmony with the airy world of waterfalls and trees around them.  It was nothing like the great dwarven halls, but it held a soft, fae beauty of its own.  And in short order, Elladan held the door for them, and lead his companion out into the birdsong night.

“I know the stories my father told me when we were small.  Though, I confess!  I was always more fascinated by the tales of the Ents.  I’ve never seen a walking tree before!”  He returned the gentle squeeze of Kili’s fingers, and turned his face up to the night sky when they left the house.  The hard-packed paths gave way to mossy ground as Elladan turned their steps away from the roads, following a thousand years of his own memories. 

He and Elrohir knew every inch of the valley, and explored them twice over!

“Aulë made the dwarves strong to endure. Therefore they are stone-hard, stubborn, fast in friendship and in enmity, and they suffer toil and hunger and hurt of body more hardily than all other speaking peoples; and they live long, far beyond the span of Men, yet not forever.“  Our books don’t tell us much about your people, but I shudder to think what your tales say about us!”  Elladan grinned broadly at Kili, and released his hand long enough to deftly leap over a fallen log, long since mossy and returning to the earth.  

“Vulnerable?  No!  Out here I can run, I can shoot, and I can see my enemies coming.  This feels like the safest place in the world.”

...

“We don’t have many books about elves,” Kili admitted chuckling, taking his time in climbing on the mossy log. Unlike Elladan, he wasn’t used to jumping or climbing trees, especially mossy ones. He had learned the hard way that those were slippery. Now he took his time in balancing with more care, feeling his boots sink into the greenery.

He felt like a child again with his arms spread on both sides, a wide grin playing on his lips.

“Those we have don’t tell much either. I’m not sure whether it’s because of our kins issues with yours or if we simply don’t know enough. Some say you came from the trees, others believe you descended from the stars,” he continued, making a show of teetering on the very edge of the log before leaping down, brushing his hands against his pants before skipping to the nearby rock.

It had been a while since he could just enjoy being outside with no one breathing down his neck, and it was clear on his relaxed posture how much he was enjoying their small escape.

“Are you truly immortal, or is that just a tale?” Kili asked curiously, turning to look at Elladan over his shoulder. Up on the rock, he was almost the same height with the elf.

“What do you do with that much time? How old even are you?”

...

The further they ventured from the path, the steeper the slope began to slant downwards.  There were a dozen easier ways to where Elladan was leading them, but none so direct– and none that wouldn’t mean wandering, winding, through the busier parts of Imladris.  

Their time was limited, and Elladan could feel the prick of the deepening night on his skin.  The cool air was a reminder that they only had until dawn, when the dwarven company would surely be eager to continue their journey.  Light would some, and they would go; and Elladan refused to waste a minute of it.

“I couldn’t tell you!  It’s as much a mystery to my people as it is to yours– there are some secrets even the firstborn aren’t meant to know.”  Elladan admitted merrily, his heart feeling unexpectedly light when he returned Kili’s easy smile.  “Life would be intolerably boring without a mystery or two, wouldn’t it?”

Elladan paused halfway down the slope and half turned, the night air blowing the long, black hair back from his face.  His circlet had been tucked onto his belt, barely an afterthought, and Kili could see the pale point of one ear escaping through his hair.

At the table he’d been taller than Kili, and even moreso when they were standing…  Suddenly, he was eye to eye with the dwarf, and his smile faltered.

“Immortal?  Not entirely.  We age, and we can die.  But we measure time very differently.”

It was the sort of question people didn’t ask the elves!  And Elladan wanted to answer, he wanted to encourage the brash curiousity that had so completely caught his attention!  But what a question… And how would he react to the answer?

“I’m … Young, by our reckoning.”  Elladan said quietly, his grey eyes not quite meeting Kili’s in the dark, “We were born early in this age, and I had already reached my majority before your great city was founded.”

...

The way Elladan closed up about his age caught Kili by surprise, and uncertainty flickered in the dark eyes for a brief second. Had he already managed to cross over a line and made the elf uncomfortable? He didn’t mean it, but he also couldn’t help his curiosity. While dwarves did not age as slow as the elves, most of them still lived to be a healthy 250 years in average.

Some even reached the age of 300!

“You must think we all are very young in that case, especially me,” Kili chuckled, smiling in a tad uncertain way as he tried to light up the situation again. “I came off age just a while ago, so guess I could blame my young age for my curiosity but you’re a proof that age has nothing to do with curiosity,” he teased lightly, leaning over to poke his finger gently against Elladan’s forehead.

“If anything else, one could say one gets more reckless as they get older. I mean, look at you being out here alone with a dwarf, who knows what whispers are going around as we speak?”

...

With an incandescent little pop, like the bursting of a soap bubble, Elladan felt his fear evaporate.  “I’m still very young by elven standards!  Truthfully, we’re probably close to the same.  The only difference is that I had my 2800th Begetting Day a few years ago.”

But his grandmother had watched the Valar kindle the moon into being, and his father had seen the end of the First Age.  In comparison, the twins were very young indeed!

Elladan’s hand swept up to catch Kili’s fingers, a brief furrow crossing his forehead when he’d been poked, “I suppose this must be reckless, indeed.  But I haven’t had this much fun all season!”  With a beaming smile, Elladan looked down at their hands, and splayed his fingers out against Kili’s.  One hand was pale and slender, the other broader and stronger; but when they fit.  

“I’d be more worried about the trouble you’ll get tomorrow.  Your friends seem the sort to tease you from here to Osgiliath!”  Halfway down the slope was a strange place to stand, but it was quiet and private, while the rest of Imladris lingered over their evening meals.  

“I’ll hope my company is worth the trouble.”

...

“Eh, I’m more worried about Thorin than one of my friends,” Kili admitted with a small huff, gaze fixed on their fingers. The intimacy of it still shocked the dwarf, his expression thoughtful as he ran one of his finger lightly over Elladan’s own. Never in hundred years did he think he’d find such peace by holding hands with an elf, yet here he was.

Elladan was teaching him a lot of new stuff in the span of one evening.

“But while I fear my uncle’s reaction to this developing bond, I have to admit I’m rather curious too see how others react to this. I’ve done a lot of reckless things in my time but never anything quite like this,” he smiled, allowing the gravity to finally slide him down from the rock.

In the new position, he had to hold his arm higher to keep their fingers connected but he didn’t mind. If anything, he felt a tad excited about how different they were.

“What about you? I don’t think your family is taking this lightly either, unless you’ve made a habit to run off with your guests,” the dwarf continued with a soft laugh, throwing a wink up at Elladan. He couldn’t quite explain why he felt the need to tease the elf, why he was close to flirting with him again for reactions but…

It didn’t feel wrong.

...

Elladan’s fingers twitched, responsive and sensitive, at the gentle rasp of Kili’s touch.  It wasn’t unpleasant at all; just different.  Like the two of them, like their hands, like the whole of this unexpected night– things that shouldn’t work together, but somehow did.  Complimentary differences, perhaps; but Elladan wasn’t interested in analyzing it.  

Not then.  They’d have more than enough time for that later.

“As have I!  And I’m a little leery of your uncle’s reaction, as well.  I have no doubt he means only the best for you, but I fear he’ll find it difficult to look beyond my race.”  Elladan paused while Kili slid down from his rock, and the height between them changed again.  Even if the dark, there was no mistaking the differences between them!  And Elladan could no more pretend to be a dwarf, than Kili could be an elf.

“My father will have nothing but words of support, and caution.  He holds no ill-will towards your people, and he’s rather given up telling us who we’re allowed to befriend!  So long as you mean us no harm, he’ll keep his own council.  As for the rest of my people?  Well, it’s been too long since they’ve had new grist for their gossip!  I’m curious about their rumours, not afraid of them!”  

Gripping Kili’s hand more tightly, Elladan lead the way through the valley, their path winding up and around until the lights of Imladris were pinpoints, and then lost entirely on the far side of the night dark trees.

“My family has a history of carrying on with people we shouldn’t.”  Elladan grinned back over his shoulder, bright and impish, “Or do Dwarves not tell the story of Lúthien?”

...

He had no doubts that the elves were already spreading rumors, and had to admit he was also curious about finding out what those rumors were. Surely, this was the talk of the century!

“Can’t say it sounds familiar,” Kili admitted laughing, stepping over the larger rocks and branches with ease. After all, dwarves had an excellent sight in the dark; how else would their kind be able to live inside the mountains? Before the fires had been lit, they had to rely on their instincts and senses. 

A quick glance over his shoulders told him they had ventured far from the city, and curiosity bloomed ever brighter within the dwarf. Where was Elladan taking him? Were they merely walking, or was there a destination to be reached? 

“Is it a juicy story? I’m afraid our books did not cover what scandals your race might have gone through by yourselves,” the dwarf snickered good-naturally, tightening his hold of Elladan’s hand just because he enjoyed the sensation of the smooth skin against his own rougher one. 

It felt hard to believe those same hands could kill with such ease if needed. 

“Please tell me it’s a tale of an elf who ran away with a dwarf or a human.”

...

“Believe me, mellon nin, if I had a relative that had run away with a Dwarf, it would have made for a very different sort of gossip over the evening meal!”

Elladan had been back in the city for months, and the walls had begun to feel close and suffocating around him.  Too many walls, too many expectations– he knew his brother had felt the same itchiness under his skin, the urge to turn and run for the wider plains.  

But they had ridden with the Dunedain long enough, and when their father had called, they had returned home.

But this?  Out beneath the star studded sky, his spirits lifted by the merry company at his side?  Elladan felt as though he could breathe again.  

Hand in hand, he lead Kili around the edge of the grey valley, the night air brisk and cool, and scented with damp loam and crushed greenery beneath their feet, crackling with deadfall.  “Just a little further..”

In the silver light, Elladan’s face was touched with fey mischief, as he reached out with his free hand to pull aside a thick veil of branches.  He’d promised Kili that he would show him a beautiful sight; something lovely beneath the sky, to prove that not all wondrous things were found in deep caves.  He only hoped this settled their wager.

The slope of the valley steepened here, dropping down a sharp and wooded slope towards the river far, far below.  It felt like standing at the edge of the world, domed by the endless vault of silver stars in their limitless blackness.  The Last Homely House was picked out like an orange-red jewel against the deep green darkness, but the only sound around Kili and Elladan was the breeze in the trees, the rush of the distant river, and the occasional twitter of night birds.

“The story begins in a place like this.”  He murmured, tethered by Kili’s hand as he walked closer to the edge.  “With Lúthien dancing beneath the starlight.   She was the daughter of Elu Thingol, King of Doriath, and his Queen, the Maia, Melian.  And how, caught up in her dance, she didn’t notice the human man, Beren, who had seen her.”

...

Instinctively, his grip of Elladan’s hand tightened as the elf waltzed closer to the edge of what seemed to be a bottomless pit. Being a dwarf, Kili was not fond of high places and for him it felt as if he could be sucked into the void at any moment. But there was beauty in the darkness; the stars above them reflected from the surface of the water below, and he had to admit there was an own kind of beauty in the place.

It felt almost as if they were in a world of their own.

A private place that existed only for the two of them.

Suddenly, it felt as if his heart began pounding a lot faster.

“Was he captivated by her beauty?” Kili asked silently, breaking the tentative silence that had descended upon them. “I don’t think many men have had the chance to see an elf dance, much less an elf maid. I think he would have been, unless the story has a sad ending.” 

The dwarf made a face, taking a tentative step closer to the edge to stand beside Elladan. The air felt thicker than before, and Kili wasn’t sure whether he only imagined it or if something was building between them. Did he wish for something? Or was he merely loopy from the height of the place?

Shaking his head to clear it, the dwarf released his hold of Elladan’s hand and crouched instead, burying his hand in the cool grass.

 “Please tell me it’s not a sad story.” 

...

Whatever this was between them, and Elladan couldn’t put the feeling into words, it seemed to have a life of its own.  A quicksilver energy that bound them together, running through their veins and crossing their joined hands, creating a closed circuit that tingled on Elladan’s skin wherever they touched.

“It was love at first sight.  A hopeless, all consuming love.  But when Lúthien heard him approaching?  She fled.”  

Elladan had always loved stories, and it didn’t particularly matter where they came from.  He delighted in the telling of them, his voice animated and that softly enigmatic smile on his face.

When Kili dropped his hand, Elladan could feel the cold that rushed in to take the place of the rough Dwarven heat.  Sitting down beside him hadn’t been a conscious decision; it felt like the only natural thing to do.  So he sank down crosslegged on the grass beside his new friend, and looked out at the glittering blackness over the valley.

“But he came again in spring, and this time she let Beren fold her in his arms.  It’s said that Lúthien was more beautiful than any elf-maid before, or after; and it there was Maiar blood in her veins.”  

Elladan’s heart felt like it was tripping, hammering, against his ribs.  And before he could think better of it, he reached out, his fingers lightly resting over Kili’s in the thick grass.

“Their son, Dior, was the first child of mixed blood.  The first of a union of Elf and Man.  And their choice has traveled through their bloodline, generation after generation– the choice of whether to remain immortal, or to sacrifice their long, long lives for short human ones.  So you see, mellon-”

Elladan waved his free hand towards himself, and out to the dark valley, “What I said was true.  My family does have a history of finding love in very unexpected places.”

...

It took a moment for Elladan’s words to register in his mind and once they did, he could feel the tips of his ears burn and thanked Mahal that the valley they rested in was bathed in darkness. For it hid the redness he was sure had taken over his entire face, burning under his skin but it was not unpleasant. It wasn’t a blush of shame or embarrassment, but surprise. 

There laid something unsaid between the words Elladan spoke, of his family finding love from other races. Something Kili did not dare to put into words.

“It’s not uncommon for some of our race to fall for people,” Kili said, fingers twitching underneath Elladan’s own as he laced them together once again, thumb running over the smooth surface of the elf’s fingers. “Elves however… that’s unheard of. Most of our kin still thinks of you as something too different and because of that. they reject your kin. If they were to hear about this, about the way we speak to each other and… hold each other…” the dwarf trailed off, tongue thick in his mouth as he swallowed nervously.

Mahal, what was it about this particular elf that made him feel as if his every nerve was on fire?

“I’m not delusional, am I? You feel it too?” He asked almost desperately, finally turning to gaze upon Elladan. In any other situation he’d be ashamed of how he sounded; almost pleading like a child desperate for an affirmative answer. He felt raw and exposed, and knew that with a single word Elladan could inflict a blow so deep it would take him years to recover.

“There’s….something.”

...

“It’s not your people, alone.  My own are far from free of prejudice.  Both sides have been at odds for so long that…”  Elladan trailed off, and in the darkness a look of helplessness flickered across his face.

What had started as a joke between them, a way to tease each other– and to ease the stuffy, rigid formality of the evening meal– head become something else.  Or perhaps it had always been, and the joke had merely been the catalyst for them to see it.

Kili’s fingers were warm and broad in his own, as solid as the bedrock the children of stone were said to be crafted from. And they fit– that was strangest thing of all!  His skin felt flushed and alive where they touched; and Elladan’s sigh of relief when Kili turned his hand to clasp his own, was audible in the still night.

“Something… Yes.”

It was almost a relief to say it aloud, and Elladan turned to Kili with a small, shaken smile.  Slowly, he traced the pad of his thumb across the ridge of Kili’s knuckles, feeling hard bone beneath the weathered skin.  It was still an unfamiliar touch, but it made his stomach tense with pleasant nerves, the space filled with fluttering.

“You’re not delusional.  Unless we both are, and that seems even more impossible.  I know… I know.  We should both go back to the city, and forget all of this.  Your company is going to leave in the morning, and it would surely be the wisest thing to pretend this... never happened.”

Elladan swallowed hard, his grey eyes tracing Kili’s face in the silver moonlight, the desperate cadence of his heart compelling him to commit it to memory.  Just as it looked in this moment, like a talisman against the forever days ahead without him.

“But… I’ve never claimed to be wise.”  

...

He knew Elladan was right.

They would leave in the morning, and the chances of seeing each other again were slim. The road ahead was filled with dangers and the looming threat of death, and it would not be fair for him to ask the elf to wait for something that might never happen.

Besides, Elladan was immortal. His own lifespan would be a mere blink in their eyes.

It wasn’t fair.

“…It pains me,” Kili whispered quietly, meeting Elladan’s gaze with his own; just as miserable, just as lost as he was. Their time together was running short, and he knew he would never meet anyone who would make his heart jump with joy as Elladan did. After all, dwarves only fell once.

“If things were different… if we had met in different circumstances, a year or so later when this journey was over…” he trailed off with a slow shake of his head, shoulders slumped in defeat. His fingers caught Elladan’s own, slowly tracing patterns into the warm skin as if he was memorizing the sensation on his fingertips.

“Yet, I can’t bring myself to say we should forget. I don’t want to forget, and pretend this never existed.”

...

Even the powerful, and the wise, could not choose who their heart wanted.  For most of his life, Elladan had reconciled himself to living without that particular connection; his people loved once, and only once.  And the sons of Elrond had always come as a pair.  Perhaps, he’d thought then, they were a joke of Eru– making them brothers instead of lovers.  

And it hadn’t mattered!  He’d never felt the lack of romance in his life.

Now, Elladan suspected, his heart tight and trembling against his ribs, that he’d simply been waiting for someone entirely different.

“I would not be the source of your pain.”  Elladan’s gaze dropped to their hands, his own long, slender fingers laced through Kili’s as though they’d been fashioned to fit there.  Complimentary in their opposites.  “Not for all the world.  But it seems that Fate has other ideas.”

With a long sigh, Elladan lay back on the grass, the soft blades releasing their fresh, green scent when they broke.  From this angle, Kili looked haloed by stars, the light of them catching on his dark hair and the flush of his cheeks. 

“If we’d met two years from now, your journey would be done, and perhaps you would not be the same person you are now.”  He murmured, still thumbing the back of Kili’s hand.  “Had you not been attacked so close to our valley, your people would have had to reason to seek shelter here for the night.’

“Had gwenur and I been away this night, as we often are… So many things aligned for us to meet, like this, in this moment.”

Elladan’s free hand was unsteady when he reached up to smooth a few stray strands of hair from Kili’s brow, his fingertips lingering on his temple.  “I could never forget you… I would rather suffer the pain of missing you, than never have know you, or this, at all.”

...

The lingering, cool touch against his temple almost tore a sob from Kili’s lips. He had been hurt in his life by blades, by fire and mistakes but none of that pain compared to what he felt right now. It felt as if something was trying to tear its way out of his chest and he felt like screaming until his voice was hoarse, he wanted to do something reckless like beg for Elladan to run away with him and just hide from the rest of the world who thought of them as wrong.

But he couldn’t. 

They were both of royal blood and had duties for their people; they could not be selfish like that.

“Why would the Gods wish for us to suffer like this?” Kili asked pained, covering Elladan’s hand with his own so he could lean his head against them, nuzzling his faze over the elf’s open palm. “So much could go wrong, I might not return from this journey at all and I can’t… I can’t ask you to wait for me. It would not be fair towards you. I don’t want to hurt you any more than I already am.”

The silence stretched upon them, and Kili took a moment to just breathe in Elladan’s scent, searching comfort from his gentle touch. He smelled like the grass and the forest, something crisp and fresh and it made Kili’s head spin. It was simply the most enticing scent he’d ever smelled in his life.

“But if there is a chance to see you again after this…”

...

He was so very warm, despite the cool night breeze, and Elladan wanted nothing more than to fold himself into the dense strength of Kili’s arms.  To hold onto him, to feel the hammer beat of his heart against his chest, for as long as they might be able to.

Their parents would be horrified.  But in that bittersweet moment, Elladan had no thought for anyone but the man beside him.

“You won’t ask me to wait, any more than I would ask you.  If you find someone on your travels that makes…”  His voice wavered embarrassingly, the last syllable shaking unsteadily before succumbing to silence.  It was selfish, impossibly selfish, but Elladan didn’t want Kili to meet someone else.  

The idea of him holding another hand like this, of knowing that someone else had claimed the small, fledgling corner of his heart?  It made Elladan’s fingers twitch, tightening with the urge to hold him just that bit closer.

Elladan ghosted a smile up at Kili, the tips of his fingers tracing along the line of his cheek, the squared jaw and the rough bristle of his beard.  The elven folk were fair, but Kili felt real in a way his own people didn’t.  

If they were the cool fire of distant stars; than Kili was the glowing forge, or the heat of the home hearth.  

“Tomorrow you go.  Reclaim your kingdom.”  Elladan’s eyes were wide and silver in the starlight, drinking in the sight of his own fingers moving across Kili’s skin.  “And when you’ve driven out the dragon, and are prince beneath your mountain, send me word.  I’ll come.’

“But for tonight, just let me be Elladan, and yours.”

...

Let me be yours.

The words resonated within Kili’s core and he released a wounded sound that came from somewhere deep within his chest, and didn’t even hesitate to brush his lips ever so gently over Elladan’s wandering fingers. He swore he could almost taste the grass on his lips, and he breathed softly against the cool skin, his lip quirking up in a hint of a smile.

“Not many outsider knows, but we dwarves don’t take multiple lovers during our lifetime,” he murmured softly, allowing his other hand to trail through Elladan’s hair slowly. It felt like silk, slipping between his fingers smoothly and he absently rolled a strand around his finger as if that would keep the elf with him for a while longer. “Some do of course, if their spouse dies in a war or from sickness. But they would never love the new one as deeply as they did the first. So I suppose in a way, it’s almost similar to how you elves are told to love.”

He met Elladan’s silver eyes with his own, holding his gaze as he spoke the next words that he was sure would shock his entire family and kin if they were to hear them.

“There will never be anyone out here for me, who would make my heart beat like you do. From now on, it beats for you and only you. And when we’ve reclaimed our kingdom I’ll write you and we will figure something out. If this is what the Gods intended for us, we will find a way to make it work.”

...

It was madness, this feeling.  A wild, impossible thing that felt like it had always been there, patiently waiting for the day that they would be close enough to realize it.  The old stories spoke of love at first sight, of finding someone who’s fea resonated in time with your own.  

But they’d been stories, nothing more. 

“Very much like our own.”  Elladan confirmed, his voice constricted to little more than a murmur, pushed through a tightening throat.  “One love, for all the long days of our lives.  I always believed it was a choice; and one could choose not to love.  I… How wrong I was.”

Would either of them have chosen this?  Elladan wasn’t certain.  The thought of Kili leaving at sunrise was agony, soothed only by the gentle pass of his fingers through his hair, and the steady pressure of their joined hands.  How quickly the alchemy of affection turned laughter into love!

Slowly, Elladan propped himself on one arm, his eyes falling closed as he pressed his forehead to Kili’s, “For you, and only you.”  He repeated the words softly into the space between them, and felt the weight of the vow as it settled on his heart.  

Elladan lifted their joined hands and pressed them to his chest, the rushing trip of his heart vibrating under Kili’s fingers.  “What do you call this feeling in your language?  That I may hold your words close to me, even when you’re not.”

...

“There are many words for what we’re feeling right now,” Kili replied just as silently, moving to rest his hand on the nape of Elladan’s neck to hold the elf close for just a while longer. His thumb continued to draw slow circles through Elladan’s hair, his words a whisper over the elf’s own.

“Amrâlimê simply means ‘my love’,” he started, allowing their joined hands to press closer to Elladan’s chest and for a brief moment, he thought he felt the elf’s heartbeat underneath his palm. “Menu tessu means ‘you’re everything to me,” he continued and in a fit of adrenaline he leaned closer, burying his face into the soft hair and inhaled deeply.

At this rate, his heart would surely burst.

“But if you allow it, I would like to call you my Lukhudel,” Kili finished, a hint of a smile playing on his lips before he pressed them lightly on Elladan’s forehead. “It means ‘light of all lights’.”

And for Kili, Elladan was just that.

A bright light that shone through the trees and unto the earth, castings its warmth over the cold rock.

...

“Amrâlimê…”  Elladan ran the word over his lips softly, feeling the almost Sindarin shape of the letters. It sounded different in his voice than it did in Kili’s, a Dwarven word made tenderly different, precious, in an Elven voice.  There was nobody to judge them here, nobody to warn them against falling too hard, too fast.  

And so there was nothing to caution Elladan against resting his head on Kili’s shoulder, or breathing in the scent of him, like loam and leather and woodsmoke.  For a moment he was tense with uncertainty; but Kili could feel the way his body eased slowly into his side, slotting his long, thin body against him.

“Allow it?”  Elladan laughed, short and quick with surprise, his smile at odds with the tears that beaded the corners of his grey eyes.  “What a thing to ask me now!  I’ll be offended from now on if you call me anything else.”  

Maybe it was easier to laugh at the joy of being with him, than to cry at how inevitably short their time together would be.  So Elladan smiled up at him, and cupped Kili’s cheek in his hand, following the curve of his cheekbone with his thumb.  “Kili…”  He breathed his name like it was something sacred, the feather light touch skimming across the dwarf’s lower lip.

“Does it curse our luck if I kiss you?  Or it is more cursed if I let you go without?” 

...

A shiver ran down the dwarf’s spine as the ghost of breath ran over his lips and in an instant, his entire mouth went dry. Never in his life had he heard anyone say his name as sweetly as Elladan did; it felt as if his name was safe on the elf¨s lips and it sent his heart hammering even faster and almost loud enough he feared Elladan would hear it.

The question was a two-sided sword for no matter which option he’d choose, they would feel pain in one way or another. Yet with one option, the pain would at least be bittersweet.

“I would rather taste you once than wonder the rest of my life whether you taste as sweet as you smell,” Kili murmured, his voice deeper and rougher with emotion as he slid his fingers from Elladan’s neck to rest on the side of his face instead. The lack of facial hair should have startled him but instead, it felt almost natural; as if his hands had always known that his lover would be smooth and warm under his fingertips.

He knew that once they actually crossed the line, there would be no going back. If they did this, he could not pretend this entire evening did not happen. His heart would belong to Elladan no matter what happened. The thought while terrifying also woke a lingering sense of hope in his chest. He could feel his entire body tremble ever so slightly, and he knew he’d never been as nervous in his life before. 

Yet he knew he would not be judged for his wants.

“I think I’m actually going to die if I don’t know,” he added with a low chuckle and taking the question as permission, Kili closed the remaining inches between them and lightly pressed his lips over Elladan’s own.

...

Even as a child, Elladan had never passed the time by dreaming of his one-day lover; perhaps because he could never picture what they might be like. He would never have imagined the bold, squared Dwarven features or the rasp of a beard under his fingers.  Those strong hands wouldn’t have featured in any fantasy, because how could he have guessed?

Those daydreams would have seemed hollow and flat, while his soul craved something that was– until today– elusive.

“More than once.  I swear, I’ll kiss you again before you leave.”  Elladan’s breath jittered across his lips at the low rasp of Kili’s voice, in concert with the same shiver that slid down his spine.  A tangible tremor that Kili could feel against his side where they were pressed close together.

It felt like anticipation and nerves– a kiss was a promise, a line in the sand that could never be crossed again.  

And that when Kili left, he would take with him a piece of Elladan, freely given.

“Thank Elbereth for that… I might have had to kiss you anyway, and risked the ill luck!”

Whatever the next day would hold, their first kiss was sealed with joy.

Elladan’s eyes fell closed as they met each other in the halfway, feeling the curve of his smile against his mouth.  Cool fingers combed through Kili’s dark hair, bumping against the clasp of silver and stopping to pull him closer.  

His heart had never felt so fast, or so full, brimming over with a feeling he couldn’t hope to put into words.  There was only Kili, the touch of his hands and the warmth of his body sheltering them both from the midnight chill.  With flushed cheeks, Elladan rested his forehead against Kili’s again, feeling the lingering, phantom pressure of his lips.

“Your kisses are a dangerous thing.”  He breathed.  The world felt different– or himself different in it– his heart displaced by overwhelming new feeling.  “The world could turn to dust around me, and I’m not sure I’d notice.”

...

The answer was a definite yes; Elladan did taste just as sweet as he smelled like. Like a fruit he could not name but filled his heart with joy and he knew instantly he was hooked on that taste. The fact their thing was practically forbidden at least with his own kin only spurred Kili on, and he released a soft laugh as their kiss broke and he rested close to his new lover.

“I have to agree, I think I already got addicted to your taste,” he murmured smiling, nudging his nose against Elladan’s lightly. He didn’t dare part any further, didn’t want to feel the chill of the night and come back to reality. He only held Elladan closer, whispering soft promises and reassurances against the pale skin. Shy lips pressed tiny fluttering kisses over the fair face; his forehead, the tip of his nose and then once again on his lips.

Time did not exist at the moment, only the two of them with their hearts beating in the same rhythm. 

He knew that this only made leaving much harder in the morning.

But there under the stars in their own little world, he relished on the moment they shared, knowing the memory of it would keep him warm through the lonely nights and the promise they made would help him overcome whatever obstacle the journey threw his way.

...

One kiss lead to two, and five, and twenty; his lips skimming over Kili’s face as his beloved did the same.  He felt the solid bones beneath the warm skin, and the rough softness of his beard against his lips; the same stubble that grazed his cheeks when Kili returned his kisses.

The world could shatter around them, and the valley of Imladris could slide in to the sea, and there would be nothing in Elladan’s mind but Kili.  It was heady, a dizzying swoop of emotion that made his fingers tingle where they touched, and his breath come faster, short and quick between kisses.

“What madness is this?”  He laughed quietly, sinking back against the thick grass.  It smelled fresh and green, as dark in the night as the long strands of black hair that had escaped the plait that wound down Elladan’s back.  “What a lucky thing you yielded our competition earlier– this is one moment I would not have shared, not for all the world.”

With a careful touch, Elladan reached up to curl a loose lock of Kili’s hair around his fingers with a soft catch of his breath.  It was an intimacy among his own people, only your closest and dearest would touch your hair.  But his plait had already been worked loose by Kili’s fingers.  The thought that made him shiver pleasantly, his body flushed warm and unaware of the cooling night.

“Ithildinen…”  He murmured, and tightened his arm around Kili’s shoulders to pull him close again, “Half of my heart goes with you when you leave.  Keep it safe.”

...

“I won’t let anything happen to it,” Kili promised as he allowed the gentle tug to pull him back close to Elladan. He curled on the grass beside the elf, one arm resting over Elladan´s chest, the other behind his own head for support. He had never felt such peace in his entire life, and he dreaded to let the moment slip away. Here the only sounds were their own rapid breathing and the wind in the trees and it felt as if the outside world did not exist.

For a moment he could just let go and be himself.

Be selfish and enjoy the moment.

He wasn’t sure for how long they laid in the cool grass just talking quietly, stealing touches as if they would die if they parted for as long as a minute. Their shared laughter broke the silence now and then and Kili poured out his life for Elladan; everything from his childhood and how he’d lost his father to how he grew up with his mother and uncle, trying to be as good as his older brother. 

Trying to prove his worth as the prince and one of the Durins.

The words came out with surprising ease, and he knew his tales were safe with Elladan. Despite only knowing for such a short time, he felt as if he could trust his life in the elf´s hands.

...

Time slipped by, filled with the quiet stories of their lives.  They weren’t minstrel’s tales, to be told around the hearth at night– they were small, simple.  How it felt to be the younger brother, and the weight of expectation they both carried.  Stories of childhood mischief, and old loss.  

Elladan told Kili of how he and Elrohir had escaped the valley to find their mother when she’d been taken by orcs; and how they’d all survived, yes.. But Celebrian had never been the same, and how she’d chosen to take the boats West before the end of the year.

He spoke of little Arwen, and how strange it was to see her as a woman grown, instead of the elfling child that had learned to dance on his feet.  

Elrohir was a constant through them all, and most of Elladan’s tales were of ‘we’ and not ‘me’.  Elrohir who was older by minutes, and who was so much Elladan’s mirror that nobody could tell them apart.  

But eventually, even the most wonderful nights came to an end.

During the night, they’d draped their cloaks around themselves snugly, the two of them wrapped close beneath the heavy weight.  From his vantage point with his head pillowed on Kili’s chest, Elladan could see the sun on the far side of the valley, the lightening horizon that heralded dawn.  

“Light comes.” He sighed, breaking the comfortable silence they’d fallen into.  “Your company is going to be waiting for you, if they haven’t already noticed we’re gone.”  Propping himself on his elbow, Elladan gazed down at Kili, trying to imprint the image of him, bathed in the orange-pink of dawn, into his memory.

“Free your home, ithildinen, and write to me.  Do you promise?”

...

The dawn felt as if a death sentence had been laid upon them as the reminder that their time was over rose together with the sun. The light of the stars began to dim and what had been a dark void of starlight and water now became more green, the forms of the rocks and trees beginning to take shape around them. Gone was the comfortable bubble they had rested in, and with a wistful sigh, Kili pressed one last kiss on top of Elladan’s hair.

“I promise,” he said softly, regretfully nudging the elf over so that he could get up. Pins and needles instantly travelled through his legs for he had not gotten up for hours and he rubbed them with a groan. He didn’t want to go, didn’t want to leave this wonderful elf behind with the risk of never seeing him again. The thought wound his chest tight as if he could not breathe properly, and an uncomfortable sensation rested in the pit of his stomach.

“I am fairly sure my brother noticed I hadn’t returned, as has my uncle. I expect some stern talk in my future,” he laughed shakily, offering his hand to Elladan to help the other up as well.

“But there’s nothing I would change of our night. It gave me hope I didn’t know I lacked and now I journey with a goal of my own.”

...

“Don’t despair.  It’s a… An absence.  Nothing more.  A temporary thing.” Elladan wasn’t sure which of them he was trying to console, but he had to believe his own words.  Otherwise the aching void in his chest would grow to consume him, fueled by grief and the fear that it would never end.

In the dawn light, Elladan watched as Kili picked himself up from the ground stiffly.  They were both young, but bodies weren’t meant to rest in the cold grass for hours!  “Are you going to tell them?”  He asked, and had half reached up for Kili’s hand before he thought better of it.  Elladan knew he would have to tell Elrohir, but the others?  He didn’t know…

They’d never understand.  How could they?  There was too much anger, too much foolish animosity, on both sides.

One corner of his mouth curved faintly as he looked at Kili’s offered hand, and the thin strip of his wrist where his sleeve had ridden back.  He shifted to a knee and dropped his hand to his boot, finding the small, silver knife he always kept there.  “Then let me send you with something to remind you of your goal.”

Taking a slow breath, Elladan reached back for the long, half unwound plait of black hair, the thick fall of it pooling on the ground.  With a flick of his knife, he sliced through one of the tiny braids that had been woven through it, and deftly tied the shorn edges so they wouldn’t fray.

It was smooth and glossy black, and Elladan wrapped it several times around Kili’s wrist, before tugging his sleeve down to hide it.  

“Come back to me safe, Kili… The dragon cannot have you.”

...

Before Kili had even realized what was going on, he felt the soft strands of Elladan’s hair around his wrist and his heart skipped a beat. If he looked closely, he could see the place where the elf had cut his hair; it stuck out as the wind picked up, and surely someone would see it eventually. Kili pulled his hand close to his chest, feeling the makeshift bracelet like a warm bond around his skin. Never in his life had he acquired something as special as this, and if he could he would have returned the favor. 

Alas, he did not braid his hair yet and that would surely raise questions he could not answer before the journey was over.

“I’ll come back,” he promised softly, cupping Elladan’s face into his hand. “I still have to return the favor after all,” he added with a small flick of his wrist, a content smile spreading on his lips. “I’m not going to let anything happen to this gift, it’ll bring me hope in the darkest of days.”

With a last peck on Elladan’s forehead he took a step back, trying to make his expression as neutral as he could. It would raise suspicions if he returned with a smile or a look of heartbreak in his eyes. The sun was already too high for his liking; he had to sneak back now before the rest of the company would wake up. He would already be in trouble with his family.

“As for your question… perhaps my brother shall know one day. But for now, this night will be mine alone. I’m possessive like that,” Kili winked.

...

Even new love, for all its’ power, couldn’t stop time.  The sun was already rising over the edge of the valley when Elladan vaulted gracefully up to his feet.  The urge to reach for Kili’s hand seemed the most natural thing in the world– but it was a habit neither of them could afford.

Not now.  Not yet.

Kili’s cheeky wink made Elladan’s heart feel lighter, and with a resigned sigh and a bittersweet smile, he nodded towards the path back to the Last Homely House.  “You’re all covered in grass, ithildinen, our families are going to think we passed the whole night finding trouble!”  Which wasn’t entirely untrue, just not in the way they would assume.

Reaching out, his skin tingling at the proximity, he brushed a few crushed, errant strands from his beloved’s dark hair.  They stained his fingers green, the same bright shade as the leaves with the early morning sunlight glowing through them.  Neither of them had slept, but Elladan’s heart felt quickened in his chest. 

Lighter than he’d feared.  But this was a temporary separation… He could accept no other alternative.

“If your possessiveness brings you back to me safe?  I welcome it.”

It was a quiet return to Imladris, both of them frayed and rumpled, with the same creased clothes as the night before.  As they approached the front gates, Elladan could already see the Dwarven company beginning to gather.  They were fed and rested, but Thorin’s gaze was already fixed to the road that would lead them away.  

...

He recognized the look Fili gave him; one of curiosity and a hint of worry, but Kili merely shook his head. He would talk with his brother later. But Thorin, oh his uncle looked utterly displeased and disappointed, and in any other situation that look would have hurt. But it felt nothing compared to the pain he felt now when he had to leave Elladan behind. He could no longer kiss or hold the elf, and was forced to leave Elladan with a small nod and a subtle touch of his own wrist, where the bound hair laid hidden.

A promise of return.

Kili dreaded the moment his family would demand answers, but fate had other plans for the company.

Out of Rivendell they went only to be encountered by Mountain Giants and goblins, their path leading down slippery rocks to the dark depths of the cave systems so complicated they almost got lost several times. They barely had the time to breathe the fresh air before orcs were upon them and for the first time ever Kili faced Azog, the one who had killed his family in the past and almost claimed Thorin’s life as well, if it hadn’t been for the hobbit.

Seeing the pale orc in flesh was horrifying; Kili knew he had a little chance of survival should he encounter the pale orc by himself. They had barely managed to escape with the entire company.

Their path lead to Mirkwood and its poisonous spiders and to Thorin’s dismay; more elves. But these were not as welcoming as the ones in Rivendell. Instead they were locked up as prisoners and Kili made acquaintances with another elf; a female called Tauriel. She spoke of starlight and dancing with the fire, and if his mind hadn’t been occupied by another certain elf already, perhaps he would have found her enchanting.

As it was, his mind only returned to Elladan.

The moment an orcis arrow pierced the muscle of his thigh, his thoughts once again returned to the fair elf of Rivendell. How furious Elladan would be if he found out he got injured, how his silver eyes would widen in worry and elvish mix into his words as he spoke. It was with the strength of the memory and promise that Kili pulled through the escape despite the wound and reached Lake Town with the rest of the company.

That’s when the poison hit his system, and he would have perished if it wasn’t for Tauriel and her healing.

Deemed as a burden for his injury, Kili was forced to stay behind in Lake Town while the company ventured to the mountain, and he wasn’t surprised that Fili had told that he’d stay behind as well.

For the first time in what felt like weeks, they could finally take a day to breathe and in Kili’s case, recover.

“I feel guilty for this,” Kili admitted as he sat on the hard couch, a hand resting over the wound. “I worry so many with this, even if the action helped us forward. But I fear I’m never going to hear the end of this.”

...

Since leaving the damned Elven city, it seemed like everything had gone from bad to worse.  They’d been captured, imprisoned– their narrow escape at the hands of the bloody Hobbit… Not that Fili had a problem with Bilbo, he liked the little fellow.  But the world seemed dark and angry, and Fili felt like he was fighting a dead end.

And his brother saying stupid things like that wasn’t helping!

“Don’t you dare.”  Fili stated, his heavy footsteps making the ancient floorboards creak in time with his restless pacing.  His voice was grim and flat, and his gaze turned to the window as he spoke.  Would their Uncle have reached the mountain by now?  And what would be there when he did?

“This isn’t your fault.  None of it.  Do you understand me?”  He added fiercely.  With a heavy thud of wool, Fili threw off the cloak he’d been wearing since he’d returned, draping the damp mass of it by the fire to dry.  It felt like accepting their situation, when all he wanted to do was rage against the unfairness of it all.

“It was that damned orc!  And Uncle had no right to leave you behind.  If I have to hear any more of that, I’m going to drown you!  This place has plenty of water.  Even men aren’t supposed to live on water.”

With roughly caring hands, Fili fixed his brother’s blanket around him, the same way he’d always done.  “If Amad saw you like this, she’d beat me for letting you get hurt.”  He muttered.  “And you’ve been mooning over that elf.  Don’t think I haven’t noticed!”

...

At the mention of Elladan, Kili felt the familiar heat rise on his face despite the soreness of his body. It seemed like the elf had control of his heart and body even if said body was struggling against a poison. Perhaps he’d let Elladan know one day.

“This has nothing to do with them,” Kili countered quietly, refusing to meet his brother’s eyes. So they were going to have that talk now, huh? At least there were no curious ears of their company trying to pick up what they were saying. Perhaps he should start with his brother, see how he reacted to the idea.

After all, Fili already knew. 

He always did before anyone else.

“I did what I had to in order to get us free, and I was careless enough to not pay attention to my surroundings,” he added, resting his head back against the pillows that thankfully had replaced the walnuts Fili had first placed underneath his head. “And uncle was right. I would only slow them down if I had joined,” he murmured bitterly. He didn’t like it, but he had to admit defeat.

And Fili seemed irritated if the scowl was anything to go by, which made the younger of the two smile a bit. Fili had always had his back, no matter the situation. He couldn’t stay angry at their uncle forever.

“…So what is your opinion of the elf?”

...

Kili was right, of course– there was nothing in the world that would keep Fili mad at their uncle forever.  But in the short term?  Well, the older brother had inherited the Durin temper, and it wasn’t the first time he and Thorin had been at odds!  

It never lasted.  His mother always said they were too much alike, too aware of the responsibilities laid on their shoulders, and too willing to take on more when needed.  And much too aware that they were the older brothers, and must take care of their siblings.  Fili didn’t regret staying behind, and he’d meant what he said : his place was with his brother.

But that didn’t mean he wasn’t all but chewing gravel over it!

“You wouldn’t have.”  Fili insisted, hunkering down beside his brother’s couch.  “Even if I’d have to carry you up the side of the mountain on my back, you wouldn’t have slowed them down.  Uncle might have the brains of an orc, but I know better.  I know how stubborn you are.”

And how stubborn they were together.  

With a grunt, Fili reached for the fireplace poker and gave the flames a vigorous stir, churning the coals back to life with a chorus of crackling pops.  “My opinion?  They’re an elf.  What do you want me to say?  Tall, skinny, they all look the same.”

Which wasn’t entirely true.  Loyal he might be, but it was a brother’s prerogative to tease!  “What is your opinion?  Where I see brass, do you see gold?”

...

Knowing his brother, he really would have carried him up the mountain if it had come to that. The thought warmed his soul, and Kili couldn’t help but smile at his brother’s back as he angrily poked the flames back to life. He had compared Fili to fire many times before, and this was one of those times he found himself once again thinking of his brother as the unyielding flames.

Always finding a way through obstacles, no matter what.

And yet, he knew the tone of voice Fili used on him. He had used it many times before when fishing for answers; especially when they had been younger. It’s how Fili got him to spill all of the pranks he had done and instead of reprimanding him, Fili had told him to come get him the next time so he would show how to properly prank another dwarf.

Needless to say, they were a bunch of rascals in their town.

“I suppose so,” he answered after a moment of thought, tilting his head back so he could stare at the dark wood of their ceiling. “I wasn’t expecting it to be honest. Mahal, neither one of us were. But something just… Clicked. Like when Ma used to tell how she knew Pa was the one for her. I think I felt something similar,” Kili admitted tentatively.

...

Fili had seen the way his brother looked at the elf-woman, but he hadn’t had time to dwell or worry much on what it might mean.  The pointy eared folk were fair, in their own way.  Pale and slender as willow trees, with eyes that were altogether too bright and clear.  

But it was an untouchable sort of beauty– and he’d thought his brother had the sense to leave it that way!  

Fili’s blond brows beetled in as he looked at Kili, the amusement in his expression quickly swallowed up by doubt and suspicion.  He couldn’t mean– no, that wasn’t possible.  Mahal knew his brother was prone to flights of curious fancy, just look at how he’d carried on with that elf back in the valley, that prince!  But the way Kili was talking about that elf-woman…

Slowly he shook his head, like he was trying to rattle the bits of information around in his head until they made sense.  And then again, because it still didn’t!

“Clicked.”  He repeated, the braided corners of his golden beard drawn down with his frown.  This all sounded much more serious than he’d expected!  Blast all elves and their pointy ears!

“Kili, tell me you haven’t done something stupid.  That you haven’t gone and lost your heart to an elf!”

...

He had expected some wariness. He had expected some curse words, perhaps his brother accusing him of losing his mind or being bewitched.

But the way he spat out the word ‘elf’ made the hairs stand up on the back of Kili’s neck and he felt an uncomfortable coil in the pit of his stomach, as if he was getting sick. Clearly struggling the younger of the two pushed himself up from the couch, his arms trembling with the strain. He refused to lay down for this conversation, no matter how weak he felt.

Dark eyes blazed despite the tiredness as he met his brother’s gaze, the usually healthy skin now sickly pale and sweaty as he pressed his lips together in a thin line and sucked in a breath through his nose. If he had to fight Fili for this, he would. Not many things would make him raise his voice against his own brother, but this tentative relationship made his protective instincts rise.

“And what if I did? Are you claiming I’ve been put under an elven spell? Or that I’ve hit my head? I know what I felt, nadad. I’ve never felt anything like that in my entire life.”

...

“Lie down, lie down, sand for brains!”  Fili said in a rush, reaching out to take his brother’s shoulder before the stubborn fool could get himself any more hurt.  “Your elf might have stopped the poison, but you’ve still got a damned hole in you!”

And if conceding defeat (after a fashion, they still had to talk about this!) was the only way to get his brother to keep still?  He would.  He wouldn’t like it, but some things were just more important.  

Like keeping his brother with him.

Fili wasn’t ready to consider how close he had come to losing him, and how raw his nerves still felt.  

“I’m not saying any of that– now lie down before you open your blasted wounds again!”  With a ragged huff, Fili pushed his brother back against the thick stack of mismatched pillows, his eyes sparking with temper and all but daring him to argue the point.  

Kili was his responsibility, as he’d always been.  But they were far from home, and Thorin had left them.  Someone had to keep him safe… And Fili had already failed his brother once.

Squaring his shoulders, Fili stood up and paced over to the wood pile to grab another log, needing something useful to occupy his hands (more useful that throttling his brother).  “Mahal… You’re in love.”  He said in disbelief, hefting up the log.

“Explain it to me, nadadith.  I’m not saying you haven’t hit your head, but I’ll listen.”

...

He wanted to fight.

He wanted to argue, to make Fili understand what he meant and how he felt. His brother demanding him to lay down and forcibly pushing him back on the couch only added more fuel to the flame, and Kili struggled for a moment before the pain became too much and he had to admit defeat.

His entire body kept shaking as he tugged at his sleeve which covered the gift he had received, searching comfort from the thought of his lover.

Fili hadn’t given up, but at least he seemed willing to listen.

“It began as a joke,” Kili finally sighed, releasing a small hiss as he pressed against his wound to make sure the bandages were not wet, making sure the wound hadn’t opened during his struggles. “But after we spent that night together just talking, it grew into something more. It happened so fast, Fee. It felt right to hold their hand, or feel them close.”

He wasn’t quite ready to admit the kisses yet, Mahal knew his brother would get another fit if he knew an elf had taken his first kiss.

“When we parted, I promised I’d send a word once we reclaim the mountain so we could meet again. Leaving them hurt. The thought of not seeing them again hurt. Every thought of not being able to be with them hurt more than any wound I’ve received.”

He glanced down at his thigh with a wry grimace. “Though I must admit, this is a close second.”

...

Mahal, he didn’t want to hear this!  He didn’t want to think about losing his brother to some elf– or anyone else, for that matter!– not when he still looked pale and clammy, and could hardly move for the pain of his wounds.  Fili had never known fear like he’d felt over his brother’s sickness, and the shadow of it still hung heavily around him.

But he’d given his word to listen, and so he squared his shoulders, and did as he’d promised.

Them.  They.  That night together.

I’d send word.  Leaving them… Leaving them?

Long before the end of Kili’s explanation, Fili had a terrible sinking feeling.  It settled in his belly like a piece of granite, sharp edged and cold with foreboding.  Because the elf-woman had barely left, and even a heart like Kili’s couldn’t be aching for her loss so keenly, not so soon!  

And the only night they’d spent ‘together’ was in the elven prison– and there had been no jokes there!

Fili’s heartfelt groan was half smothered by the thud-crack of the fresh log he threw on the fire, and the crackle of sparks that raced up the chimney. Even had he wanted to be angry (and he did!  It would be so much easier) it was impossible hold onto his ire when Kili called him by his child-name.  Manipulative little goblin.

The end of the hard couch creaked when Fili finally sank down on the end, using the excuse of fixing his brother’s blanket over his feet.  “And here I thought the elf-maid was the problem!”  He muttered, a deep crease between his brows.  “But it’s been longer than that, hasn’t it?  That prince, in the elven valley.  The one you vanished with all night.”

Fili didn’t even want to say it, but loyalty to his brother outweighed all other considerations.  “If you weren’t already hurt, Kee, I’d beat you myself!”

He wouldn’t.  

“Why in Mahal’s name didn’t you tell me?”

...

Kili blinked tiredly at his brother and it took a while for his sluggish mind to realize what Fili meant. And when he did, he couldn’t help but crack a smile that turned into a laugh which again turned into a wheezing cough. “You thought I had lost my heart to Tauriel?” He gasped between gasps of breath, the familiar light in his eyes returning for a brief moment at the sheer absurdity of the situation.

No wonder Fili had seemed pissed when Tauriel had appeared out of nowhere, even if she did save his life.

Each breath he sucked in hurt like tiny knives carving into his lungs, and he hid the pain as much as he could. He was already hurting Fili, he didn’t want him to worry further. Guilt ate him from the inside, twisting his gut into knots as he thought of how his brother had to feel right now.

“I couldn’t, not at first,” he said softly once he had caught his breath, and with his other hand he reached out to cover Fili’s own in a reassuring gesture. “A part of me wished to keep it to myself for a while so I could get use to the thought as well. As right as it felt, I wasn’t expecting it. I wanted to sort my head first as I had a lot to think about.”

Like how he’d tell his family, how he would make them believe how serious he was about pursuing the relationship that had grown between him and Elladan.

“It began as a joke by the table, try to see how far we could push boundaries before one of our elders would snap and grew into something much more once we were by ourselves. Before we knew it, the night had passed.”

...

It made sense, which all the more hateful because Fili supposed he would have done the same in that situation.  Not that he had any intention of falling in love with anyone, much less an elf!  But then, his brother certainly hadn’t expected it, either.  And you couldn’t control who your heart chose– that was, apparently, the magic of it.

Fili had his doubts.

His expression darkened when Kili’s laughter turned to wheezing, his hand gripping his protectively.  If he ever got his hands on the beast that had dared to hurt his little brother, he’d beat him into a pulp and feed him to whatever fell fish lived in this damned lake.  

It didn’t matter that there was no way Fili could have stopped it.  His brother had been hurt, that was the only thing he cared about.

“Stop laughing, you’ll tear your stitches.  And I won’t be the one tying your strings back together!”  He would.  If he had to.  But Fili’s skills with a sewing needle were notoriously bad!  He’d probably end up stitching his brother's hand to his belly, or something equally inconvenient!

With a long suffering sigh, he pushed his brother’s hand aside and grabbed the edge of the blanket, peeling it back so he could take a look at the bandages that wound around him.  

No blood, thank all the Gods.

“I remember.  Dwalin was going to throttle me for letting you leave with him.”  Fili cracked the very smallest of smiles, but there was something a little warmer in his voice.  Oh, he wasn’t happy, not at all– but there was precious little to be happy about, these days.

“If this elf makes you happy, Kee…”  His words clotted in his throat.  He wanted to tell his brother that he supported him, that he’d stand by him no matter what.  But what if that wasn’t what Kili wanted?  Fili coughed and tried to clear his throat.

“Are you planning to live in that valley of his?”

...

“We haven’t thought that far ahead,” Kili chuckled tiredly, his skin breaking into goosebumps as Fili pulled his blanket back. He was getting exhausted and a part of him hated how weak he felt at the moment. He wished to be more useful, to try to get ready to join the others by the mountain but knew he needed more rest before he could do that.

After Fili had checked on the wound, Kili tugged the blanket back up over his shoulders and squirmed a bit to get into a somewhat comfortable position. “We don’t know where this goes or what we’ll do. We just know we both want to pursue this thing we feel,” he said, and for a moment the tired edges of Kili’s eyes softened.

“I wanted to tell you earlier, but there’s little privacy to be had in our company and we didn’t really have the time to stop and talk either. You know I’d never leave without a word, right? Trust me nadad, if my path leads me away from our kingdom sometime in the future, that doesn’t mean you’ll get rid of me. I’ll be that annoying thorn in your arse until grave calls us,” he teased lightly, the corner of his lip rising up into a smirk.

“And even beyond I’m sure I’d find a way to drive your spirit insane, as it’s my duty as your younger brother.”

After all, there was no Kili without Fili. He had grown with his older brother after their father’s passing, and didn’t remember much else than following Fili’s footsteps as a child, as a youth and a young adult. He had always tried to be as good as his brother, and still felt lost when they were apart. Like at the mountains with the giants and the ground had split them apart; Kili had wanted to cry out for Fili, but had frozen in terror.

“Even if I am to find a love, you’ll always be the most important person in my life, Fee.”

He snickered and closed his eyes. “Now let me sleep before I start to spit out more mush at you.”

...

“Hush, sand for brains.  Of course I’m not going to be lucky enough to get rid of you.  Even the bloody rock giants couldn’t manage it, what chance does one skinny elf?”  Fili’s voice was low and gravely with emotion when he tucked his brother’s blanket more securely around him once more.

Tauriel had saved his life.  And the prince had given him another reason to keep fighting.  Whatever their people might think of elves, Fili knew he’d never be able to hold the same animosity towards them.

“Go to sleep, you’re obviously mad from the pain.”

For a long time after, Fili sat by the hearth, stirring the coals with the blackened end of the poker.  From infancy, they’d been raised on the same stories of the kingdom the dragon had claimed.  One day, Thorin had said, they would journey to the far mountain to take back their birthright from the beast.  To reclaim the halls where he, and their mother, had come into the world.

Fili had never imagined their home, any home, without his brother in it.

But if this elf made Kili happy?  

“You couldn’t find a nice Dwarf lass, could you?  No, you had to make things hard for yourself.  And for me.”  He added, since his brother was asleep.  For the first time in what seemed like forever, Fili found himself alone with his thoughts.  There were no orcs breaking down the doors, or the presence of the rest of the Company.

Just himself, and the crackling hearth, and the sound of his brother’s sleep-quiet breathing.

If his brother loved this elf, it wasn’t the same as losing him to death.  And if he knew that Kili was still in the world, and happy?  Maybe it wouldn’t be as they wanted, or as they’d planned; but he could be happy for him.  He could endure.

So long as he was alive. 

Mahal, watch over him.  Because it was the only thing that mattered.

...

The poison might be cleared out of his system, but the effects still lingered. If asked, he could not say for certain what had happened next. One minute he was laying on the couch after their talk with his brother and the next thing he knew a dragon flew over the town, lighting it aflame.

The air filled with screams of terror and the scent of burning flesh in minutes and it made Kili’s stomach turn around with nausea.

By some miracle they managed to cross the lake with the boats, and the last thing he saw before passing out was the orange glow of the sky and the earshattering roar of the dragon.

They had thought the worst was over by then, but of course fate had once again other plans for them.

Once they had finally reached the mountain and reunited with their company, they were told Thorin had succumbed to the feared gold sickness. It hurt his heart to see his uncle driven mad by something so mundane, how his eyes were blank and lips constantly muttering out curses and praises towards the gold. No matter what he tried to do or say, Thorin did not listen.

Pale and shaking, Kili sat down to rest and used the chance to write the promised letter to Elladan. Though his heart was heavy, a spark of hope and joy still lit up at the thought of the elf as he scribbled across the paper.

“The mountain has been claimed and I’m more or less in one piece. Rough times ahead, but I’m hoping they’ll be cleared by the time you arrive. Looking forward to seeing you again. I hope you’re doing well, lukhudel.

Kili, son of Durin”

He sent the letter with a raven, and watched wistfully as it flew across the pale sky. Now all he could do was wait, and figure out how to help his uncle. They couldn’t rebuild the kingdom without him.

...

Imladris was quiet.  

The weight of it was heavy on Elladan’s shoulders, a millstone around his neck that made it difficult to breathe.  How strange it was that a decade of mortal men could pass, and Elladan scarcely noticed it– but every day since the Company had departed from the Last Homely House seemed to stretch on into eternity.

Elrohir had known, from the very moment he’d seen him, that something had changed in his brother.  But they had come into the world together, and had even as more of their people left for the boats to the west, he knew where his place was.  Eru had crafted them as two halves of a whole, and whole they would stay.

“Gwenur!  Tiria!”  Elrohir’s voice cut the stillness an instant before the tip of his blade would have caught his twin in the shoulder.  With a tight sigh, he sheathed his sword and affectionately cuffed Elladan’s shoulder, “Even in the middle of a fight you’re thinking of nothing but him.  Be glad I’m no orc!”

Elladan dragged himself back to the moment, banishing the errant ‘I pray he’s alright’ that had been nagging at the back of his mind for days.  It felt like an ill omen to voice it aloud, but he wasn’t surprised his twin had noticed.  “Goheno nin, gwenur.  My thoughts are elsewhere.”

“Lost in a pair of dark eyes, I think!  Ai- Elladan, look.”  He interrupted himself and motioned to the sleek black raven circling the valley, spiraling down and down towards them, “It carries a note.”

With a thanks to the bird, Elladan unrolled the note, his hands unsteady with relief.  “They’ve taken the mountain.”  He explained, his head bowed beneath the sudden rush of air, the first breath he’d taken since Kili had left.  He hadn’t forgotten.

“You travel east, then?”

Elladan nodded, and for half a heartbeat, his gaze sought out Elrohir’s in the twilight, “At first light, if Ada gives me leave.”

“And if he doesn’t?”

“… Then at noon, after I’ve convinced him.”

Elrohir mirrored his brother’s nod, and nudged his shoulder as they turned back from the training grounds.  “We’ll travel through the Greenwood, and see if the rumours are true.  Even Ada won’t deny the wisdom in that.”

.

The ring of steel on steel was deafening, and the air smelled of blood and churned earth.  The sons of Elrond had arrived to the valley of Dale to find, not peace, but a gold maddened king barricaded in his mountain and the armies of foul orcs descending on the townspeople.  The town on the lake had been laid to waste, and wet ash still smeared the landscape.

The orcs had broken the Elven line early in the battle, their sheer numbers crashing over the forces of the Mirkwood.  They splintered through the ruins of Dale like a roaring black sea, slaughtering warriors and terrified townspeople in their wake.

“Why does Thorin not leave his halls?!”  Elrohir snapped to his twin, the two of them standing back to back amidst the bloody fray.  “These Dwarves, they fight for him, and he’s nowhere to be seen!”

They were a blur of glittering silver steel and grey cloaks, in perfect symmetry as they fought together.  “Don’t ask questions I cannot answer!”  Elladan countered, his blade slicing passed his brother to block a blow aimed at his head.  

Elrohir’s snapped beneath Elladan’s to catch the orc in the belly, gore spilling over the sodden ground.  “We have to find higher ground, gwenur!  There are just too many of them!”

...

How things had turned from good to the worst, he had no idea.

It seemed as if everything had happened in mere hours; his uncle’s gold sickness, the anger of the people, the elves and orcs at their doors.

He could hear the dying shouts of humans and orcs alike, the clash of steel and the very earth shook underneath their feet. Yet Thorin refused to let them out, refused to open the gates to help the people who were fighting their battles for them. The dwarves could do nothing than stand by the wall in their armors and stare down at the massacre happening on their land, each one itching to get out on the field and protect what was theirs.

It wasn’t until Kili caught the familiar sight of insignia on one of the armors that his heart seized and all breath left his lungs; those elves were from Rivendell which meant there was a chance Elladan was down there.

Despair and fear took control of his body and a flame of rage rose within the dwarf, and he found himself shouting at his uncle, demanding for the gates to be open and for them to be allowed to join the fight. Whether it was his words or something else, there seemed to be clarity back in Thorin’s eyes and in mere minutes, they had joined the war.

Kili fought beside his brother, the two completing each other’s attacks as they took down enemies left and right, blood spilling on the ground. In the back of his mind, Kili worried, fearing his very heart would burst as they ran past the fallen elves begging he would not see the face of his lover on the soiled earth. Their path lead to one of the watchtowers, and as they were rising the stairs Fili froze for a second before turning to his younger brother.

“Go down, I’ll check upstairs.”

“What? Don’t be silly, what if there’s–”

“There’s no time! You need to find the one occupying your mind. Find him, Kili. I’ll be fine.”

Kili hesitated, teeth grit together as his gaze flickered between his brother and the door. A tiny smile was given to him and the brunette turned with a heavy heart, his grip of the sword tightening. It felt as if he was torn apart, having to choose in split second where his heart lead him. Fili had always been by his side, had always helped him and kept him safe. He could handle himself, Kili knew this. But if something was to happen to Fili if he left… But what if something happened to Elladan, something he could prevent?

What if he lost them both because of his hesitation?

With a curse, the dwarf sprint down the hallway but not without a last glance at his brother.

“You better not die on me!”

...

Elven steel cut through stinking orc hides as the twins fought their way up the craggy slope to higher ground.  Blood slicked the uneven stones, and the smell of dying orc was even more potent than when they were alive; their foul juices splattering the path.  Foot by foot they gained precious ground, leaving a swath of orc bodies in their wake.

Ranged weapons were useless here, but Elladan was grateful for the weight of his bow and quiver on his back; whenever possible, he preferred to pick off orc scum from an elevation.  

Elves were immortal, not invincible. And Elladan had no intention of dying that day!

Elladan was breathing hard by the time they reached one of the rocky platforms, the ground scorched in places. It looked like the remains of ancient signal fires– and from this height, the twins could see the tide of the battle.  “We need to break their lines of communication.” He said grimly, half concealed by a rock wall as he and Elrohir studied the fighting. “Even with Thorin and his men joining the fight, it may not be enough.”

Ai Valar, let him live…

Even Elven eyes couldn’t make out single figures in the fray; a sole Dwarf in the bloody crowd.

Silently, Elrohir jerked a thumb towards the higher peak, where one of the orcish war machines clacked and rattled, waving signal banners with foul orc sigils.  “There, gwenur.”

In unison the twins rose to their feet, and had half turned to the steeper path when their ears caught the sound of steps.  The weak, cold sunlight caught on the gleaming arrowhead as Elrohir drew his bow, the arrow leveled at the entrance. This part of the mountain was  riddled with holes and tunnels– a bad place to be caught in a fight. “Come out!”  He demanded, his arrow never lowering an inch, even when his twin touched his shoulder cautioningly.

They didn’t sound like Orc footsteps…

...

To say Fili was surprised to run into the elven twins would be an understatement. The relief of finding an ally soon turned into horror, however, as the blond realized he had turned his brother into the opposite direction in search of this very elf in front of him.

“Kili went in the opposite direction!” He shouted, running up to the twins. “I thought there to be danger here so I sent him away for his safety!”

—

It was hard to see in the mids of the chaos; everywhere his gaze landed there were only death and suffering, fallen comrades and scattered weapons mixed together with what once had been orcs and Mahal knew what other creatures. The longer it took him to find Elladan, the more desperate the dwarven prince grew as he frantically cut through the enemies, praying with every fiber of his body that his elf remained safe.

Despite his brother’s warnings, Kili had run up the side of the mountain in hopes of gaining more advance towards the battle. There were fewer people fighting on the tilted earth and the old ruins, so he stopped for a moment to catch his breath and hopefully recover a bit of his strength.

His eye caught movement on the left and he barely blocked the swing of a heavy mace, his feet slipping on the loose rocks of the ruins. This orc was larger than the others, his face scarred and lips twisted in a bloodthirsty grin and his heart plummeted as he recognized the orc in question; Bolg, son of the Defiler. 

...

Things happened in the pitch of battle, but Elladan hadn’t come all this way– he hadn’t faced the distance, or the desecration of the Mirkwood, just to loose Kili now.  If this were one of the ancient tales, he would have rushed off into the fray like Glorfindel or Ecthelion, sword raised to defend the one he loved.

But this was no story. And Elladan had no intention of letting Kili lose him.  There was still too much undecided between them, too much distance.  Too many aching miles trying to erase the sweet memories of their hasty night together.  No– this was not how their story would end.  

With unnatural Elven silence, the twins made their way down the incline towards the far side of the fighting.  Fili took the path back the way he’d come, intending to cut the orcs off from flanking them.  After all, a Dwarf could fight in the close, bottlenecked tunnels more easily than any Elf.

“Gwenur- thír!”  Elrohir grabbed his brother’s arm, stopping them both above a steep outcropping.  Below, they could see the looming, hideous bulk of Bolg– but more importantly, of the orcs sneaking up the other path.

“A trap.”  Elladan whispered, and exchanged a look with his brother.  They had always fought side by side, but there was no way they could cover both advances at once.  

“Go, save him.  I’ll hold off the others, and we’ll double back and rejoin that other dwarf.”  Elrohir’s cheek pressed hard to Elladan’s in a single moment of wordless devotion, before they parted.  

From Kili’s point of view, there was no warning when the orc suddenly reared back a step, pierced by the keen head of an elven arrow.  The shaft quivered with the force, black blood welling up around the dark Rivendell wood.  “Ai, ithildinen!  I turn away for a moment and find you hanging around this hideous creature?”

In a streak of grey cloak and black hair, Elladan skirted the edge of the wall and dropped down beside Kili, bow drawn and another arrow nocked.  As much as he wanted to take in his lover’s face, to prove to himself that he was safe, Elladan didn’t dare take his gaze off the enraged orc.

“Sorry I’m late, there was a lot of ugly in the way.”

...

To say Kili wanted to weep would be an understatement. 

The confusion of the orc’s pained roar turned into pure relief and joy as he recognized the sound of the elf who had joined him, as it was hard for him to see properly through the blood that covered his left eye. If it hadn’t been for Elladan’s appearance, he would surely have gotten injured worse than a mere slash on his forehead.

“Things are a lot uglier up here it seems,” Kili responded with a laugh that seemed to irritate the orc even further, for it swung for the both of them. With renewed vigor, the dwarf blocked the strike with ease and cut the creature’s upper arm in progress. It seemed to only fuel his anger as Kili was forced to roll aside to dodge, dirt caking over the blood in progress. At least it slowed the bleeding.

“I wish I could properly greet you but now is not the time– not before we fell this thing. He’s not like the others, so don’t make me lose you now.”

 ...

There was nothing in the world Elladan hated as much as orcs, and he’d spent much of his life ridding the world of their foul corruption.  Bolg, son Azog, had no comprehension of the mistake he’d made by challenging the man Elladan loved, or the mountain the Dwarves had already fought so hard to reclaim.

The second arrow caught the orc in the side of the neck, his corded muscles bunching as he roared in a fury.  Like a great beast he squared his shoulders and charged at Kili and Elladan, bristling with arrows, his hideous, flat face set in a snarling rage.

“I’ll put a proper greeting on your account, you can pay the balance of it when we’ve dealt with the vermin!”

Swinging his bow back onto his back, Elladan drew his blade and braced with a deep slash, covering Kili’s rolling dodge.  They’d never fought together, but neither man was a stranger to battle, and the drive to protect Kili thrummed hard and fast in Elladan’s veins.

But Bolg was no green recruit, and he knew how to use his towering strength to good advantage.  

With a sweep of his massive hand, Bolg caught Elladan by the throat, his filthy fingers locked viciously in place.  Elladan slashed back as he was wrenched violently from his feet, but his blade was deflected by a piece of Bolg’s mismatched armor, and the slice wasn’t deep enough to do much harm.

...

“Elladan!”

The dwarf did not think before acting, the impulse, and yearning to keep Elladan safe sending adrenaline through his body as he slammed his entire weight at the orc. Of course, it didn’t even make the filth stumble but at least he paid more attention to Kili now.

“Come on, it’s me you want! You want to wipe out our line? Try starting with me!”

The words fell from his lips with no second thought, his vision zeroing completely on Bolg as he lifted his blade and charged at the creature once again. Bolg released his hold of Elladan, dropping the elf on the ground so he could deflect the incoming attack. The clash of their weapons connecting was deafening and Kili felt his muscles tremble under the weight of each strike, his body still weaker than usual because of the orcish poison he had been hit in during his escape from Mirkwood.

But he did not care and pushed through the pain, leaping from the rock at the orc.

He could not let Elladan suffer because of him.

It all happened so fast that it wasn’t until he tasted copper in his mouth that he realized he had been caught.

A tight grip around his throat made each breath he took feel like a struggle, and the pain he felt through his entire body was white, blinding. He could not scream from agony, the sound gurgling in the back of his throat instead as his other hand released the hold of his sword. His vision swam and he blinked the tears from his eyes, gaze searching for Elladan. Despite his efforts to smile he was rather sure it came out as a grimace, his fingers trembling as he reached out for his elf.

The sound of Bolg’s victorious laugh was drowned under the rush of blood in his ears.

He jerked as the sharp end of the mace was pulled out of his abdomen with a sickening squelch and his body fell limp on the ground, blood seeping between the rocks underneath.

...

Later on, Elladan wouldn’t be able to describe that moment clearly.  Time felt suspended and slow as Kili slumped to the ground, blood staining the frost covered stones. He could hear the pounding of his own blood in his ears, deafening and sick.  Bolg’s laughter was a hideous thing as he raised his mace, already stained red, and raised it high to finish the elf that had shot him.

Every fragment of his soul screamed for Kili, but Elladan held his place, grim-faced and breathing hard.  If he ran to his love now, the only thing it would earn was another trophy for the orc army.  And one less person to defend Fili and Elrohir.

As Bolg’s mace swept down, Elladan pushed off from the stones, his body low as he ducked beneath the orc’s weapon, behind the line of his defense. Blood and viscera spilled from the creature’s belly as cold Elven steel slid between the plates of his armor, rending him open like a gutted fish.

“Avo thano rûth vi gûr alfirin!”  He hissed under his breath, and orc growled, enraged by the language that scalded his cursed ears.  

The mace came down again, but Bolg’s great reach worked against him, and with a wet, choking bellow, he dropped to his knees.  

Elladan’s sword clattered beside Kili’s body as he rushed to his side, bloodied fingers searching his neck for a pulse. “Wake up… Wake up!”  His voice broke, and frantic hands tried to assess the damage the beast had done.  “You can’t die on me, meleth nín… Not after all this. You have to live, and you have to see the end of the battle, so you can walk with your people back into your mountain. You’ve come so far… And you’re so close to the end.  You have to live-  do you hear me?’

“Wake up!”

 (Avo thano rûth vi gûr alfirin! : Never kindle anger in an immortal heart

Meleth nín : my love.)

...

The moment Kili’s consciousness returned, his body seized up in pain and a shaky whine left his cracked lips. His mouth tasted foul and the scent of herbs was strong in the air, making him feel nauseous. He could hear hurried steps approach him but could not make out what the person was saying; however, he felt a cup pressing against his lips and soon bitter liquid slid down his throat, forcing a weak cough and a grimace out of him.

His eyelids felt heavy and his body refused to listen to his command to move, the memories of what had happened foggy as a fleeting dream. He remembered parting from his brother, then ending up against Bolg and… Elladan.

Fear of the unknown sent enough adrenaline through his body for him to struggle into a sitting position and even if the light of the infirmary felt harsh in his eyes he could still see the healers fret around him, telling him to lay back down so his wounds would not open again. A light touch over his stomach told him about the tight bandage keeping his insides where they should be, and his forehead seemed to be stitched as well.

“Elladan, where’s…”

“He’ll be here soon, now that you’re awake.”

The dwarf lifted his head up to meet the relieved gaze of his brother, who limped over to him with braces; his right leg seemed to be in a cast and a bang of guilt shot through Kili. If he had gone with his brother, could he have prevented him from being hurt?

“None of that,” Fili huffed resting his hand over Kili’s head, lightly ruffling his hair. “I can see you’re blaming yourself, but there’s no reason for it. I should be the one who is sorry, I nearly sent you to your death,” he said quietly, fingers trembling as he pulled Kili carefully closer into an awkward hug. “They weren’t sure if you’d wake up again and I couldn’t bear the thought of losing my brother. I’m sorry, Kee.”

“We’re both alive. We’re… all alive?” Kili asked carefully and when Fili nodded, he couldn’t help but chuckle in relief; which in turn sent him wheezing in pain and the healers to once again fret over him, telling him to lay down. 

...

The day after the battle had been one of the most frustrating of Elladan’s life.  It hadn’t mattered that the sons of Elrond had come to the Dwarves aid in their hour of need, or that they’d saved the lives of Thorin’s nephews.  That they’d slain Bolg, son of Azog.  Or that they’d stumbled down the side of the mountain along with Fili and the unconscious Kili, the four of them bloodied and leaning against one another.

The Dwarves had taken one glance at the twins, and their Elven features, and the doors had been closed to them.

Wounded and frustrated, the twins had taken shelter with the army from the Mirkwood, grimly patching their wounds and waiting for word from the mountain.  Even for an immortal, those hours seemed endless; Elladan could feel the pieces of himself that lingered too close to the edge of death, and prayed to every God individually and by name, that Kili would survive.

It was late in the next day that the twins finally received word from Fili that his brother had awakened, a fierce joy unfolding in Elladan’s chest.  He lived, thank the Valar!  And with fresh determination, the twins scaled the path to the doors of the lonely mountain once more.

From the Halls of Healing, Kili could hear Elladan’s voice a few hours later, rich with stubborn mirth– and counterpointed by Dwalin’s angry gruffness, and Oin’s clench-jawed terseness.  “You can let me in to see him, or I can sit in your tunnels until you grow weary of my presence.”  He argued, undaunted by Dwalin’s reddening complexion.

“We’re already tired of you, elf.  And we’ve no more need of your services.  Stick to your own kind and let us care for ours.”

Fili looked up from his sentry at his brother’s side, and heaved a leaden sigh, “Don’t move, sand for brains,” He admonished, and jabbed his thumb towards the door, “I’ll fetch him for you.”  Fili didn’t think his brother could get up, not yet. But he didn’t want Kili tearing out his stitches in the attempt, either!

...

The sound of his lover’s determined if mirthful voice sent Kili’s heart racing and he offered his brother a small nod and a smile before settling back on the bed much to the healers relief. 

Elladan was alright. 

If he had the strength to speak that way to Dwalin, surely he had been taken care of as well. A memory of Bolg’s hand around his elf’s throat made him shiver unpleasantly, and he had to remind himself that Bolg was dead now, as was the Pale Orc. From what he had heard from his brother, Elladan had felled him only seconds after Kili’s own body had hit the ground.

He could not hear what Fili and the others were talking behind the closed door but from the sound of it, Dwalin was not pleased and couldn’t accept the fact a tree-shagger had saved their prince’s life.

Mahal grant them strength for when they’d find out about their relationship.

The next time the door opened, he was finally faced with the gaze of Elladan and he struggled to sit up again purely out of instinct. He didn’t wish to worry the elf further and wanted to show him he was still breathing thanks to Elladan. With the pulse racing in his ears and his vision a tad foggy, Kili felt small and embarrassed to be in such a vulnerable stage.

This was not a side of him he wished Elladan had to see, weak and pitiful.

Words got stuck in his throat and he licked his dry lips before patting the bed with his hand; an invitation.

“…Hey.”

...

Elladan didn’t care for Dwalin’s insults or his thwarted fury.  To him, Elladan would always be the source of inferior (see: non-Dwarven) stock; too tall, too thing, with pointed ears that heard too much, and eyes that were too clear.  In the end, it didn’t matter to him if Dwalin’s hate was for him, or every Elf in Arda, so long as he stepped out of the way.

Which he did.  Eventually. With a great deal of very black muttering that promised this wasn’t over.

In truth, Elladan had neither heart, nor care, to listen.

His heart felt caught in his throat as he entered the room, the thudding beat mirrored in the pulse in his throat.  Even from across the warm, brazier lit room, Kili looked step away from succumbing back to the grave, and the thought of it rested heavily on his chest.

This wasn’t the reunion either of them had planned. Or wanted.

“Mae govannen,”  Elladan’s voice sounded soft with disbelief, even to his own ears.  A hushed thing, each syllable pushed through the knot in his throat. But he sank down carefully on the side of the bed all the same, one hand mapping across the blankets to find Kili’s.  There were tears at the corners of his grey eyes when he looked down at his injuries; his head and torso wrapped in heavy bandages. 

“One day this might be a fashionable look, but I don’t like it on you.”  He tried to laugh, but that was too soft, too quiet, too.  Lifting his free hand, Elladan tenderly brushed a few stray curls away from Kili’s forehead, careful to avoid the black and purple bruises that spilled from beneath the bandages.  It would heal.  He was alive. The rest would come in time.

“I thought I lost you… By the Valar, Kili…  That’s one moment I never experience again.”

...

Gone was the mirth, joy, and curiosity from those silver eyes; replaced by barely contained tears and pain he wished he could wipe away. Instead, he rose a hand to gently brush the falling tear from Elladan’s chin and offered him a tender smile. “You saved me,” he rasped placing his hand over the elf’s own, soaking in the warmth and comfort of his lover. 

The healers around them had grown quiet; some watched away respectfully, yet some could not hide the shock on their faces as the two interacted in such familiar terms.

The pain felt dull compared to the relief of having Elladan beside him once again, his head tilting against the gentle touch of his elf’s hand on his forehead. Even the sting of the bruises seemed bittersweet. 

“I could not handle the thought of losing you,” he continued quietly as not to break the relieving atmosphere of being together again; if he closed his eyes he could almost pretend there were just the two of them and the soft orange glow from the fires. “When I saw him grab you, I forgot all about my training. Everything I had learned left my mind, I just knew I had to get him to let go of you immediately.”

The memory of that pale hand closed around Elladan’s throat, muscles tensing as it started choking the elf sent an unpleasant shudder through Kili’s body and he allowed his hand to trail up the side of the elf’s neck. “Does it hurt? Are you injured?”

...

Elladan could feel the hot, lingering weight of eyes on the back of his neck.  But unlike Dwalin or several of the Dwarves he’d met on his way through the tunnels, the healers seemed more confused than outraged.  It didn’t come as much of a surprise; from what Elladan had managed to glean, most of them had come with Dain’s army, and they knew nothing of the merry war that had sparked so much between them.

It was only a matter of time before Oin and Dwalin fetched Thorin from whatever work occupied him. 

But none of that seemed to matter when Kili was alive and warm under his hands.  Blessings to Eru Illuvatar, who has been so generous to us this day. Two sets of brother had waded into that bloody fray, and all four men had lived; injured, yes, but alive.

“Hush, none of those words.”  Elladan’s voice shook with a watery, unguarded laugh, and his fingers curled tightly against his beloved’s chest. “We saved each other, as it should be.  Though, in future-”  He ignored the stir of embarrassment in his chest, and brushed away his tears with his free hand, “Perhaps we should set our sights a little less ambitious than invading armies.”

Gingerly he tilted his head so Kili could move aside the high collar of his tunic, baring the wicked, black and purple bruises that circled his throat.  The span of orc fingers was emblazoned on pale skin, shiny with a sticky salve that smelled of crushed herbs. 

“It matters not, it will heal.” Careful not to jostle him, Elladan perched on the edge of his bed and tenderly brushed Kili’s dark curls away from the bandage on his forehead.  “We’ll both have new scars to remind us how lucky were are to be here, together.  And I’ll be here every day until you’re whole and hale again.  Even if that means sneaking passed every Dwarf under the mountain.”

...

“No sneaking will be involved,” Kili promised vehemently, his grip of Elladan’s hand tightening even if, in his own condition, that grip wasn’t as firm as it should have been. “I have no doubt in my mind Thorin will arrive soon to see how I fare. He might still distrust elves, but he’ll be in your debt for saving my life and helping us overcome the orcs. If I ask for it, you will be allowed free pass inside the mountain even if he will grumble about it,” he assured with an amused smile.

There was no way he’d make Elladan sneak around as if they should be ashamed of what they had. They had shared a soft and tender kiss back in Rivendell, a warm moment no one had interrupted and none other than his brother knew of.

But sooner than later he would bring it up with his kin.

His desire to properly court the elf.

The mere thought sent his heart racing and he welcomed the excitement and nervousness of it as it was a reminder they were both alive and one day, healed as well. 

The dark bruises again Elladan’s fair skin woke something dark within him, his eyes narrowing as he reached out and gingerly brushed the tips of his fingers over them. The air felt thicker and heavier, the scent of earth and herbs strong around them, his gaze meeting Elladan’s own. “Next time… I’d like you to carry my marks, instead of something foul like this,” he admitted quietly, the corner of his lip twitching into a grin.

...

In the wake of the war, and with the unforgiving march of winter turned inexorably towards the survivors, Elladan could feel the shifting allegiances in the wind.  Elves and Dwarves had found common enemy in the corrupted armies of the goblins and orcs– they’d fought together, and the plains beyond the Lonely Mountain would be forever stained with their shed blood.

It had stained the earth red. All red.  Human, Dwarf and Elf alike.

When Kili looked up at him, Elladan felt his stomach tense, low and warm, at the intensity in his gaze.  A living, visceral reminder that the hot spark between them hadn’t been quenched by distance or time.  The bruised skin was feverish under Kili’s fingers, blood pooled beneath the surface to aid the healing.  

“All the more reason for us both to mend quickly.” He whispered conspiratorially, not especially wanting to be overheard by the other Dwarves in the room!  “It would be poor manners for me to traumatize your good healers by kissing their prince… Although…”

Elladan trailed off a teasing beat, and leaned close to brush his smooth cheek tenderly across Kili’s stubbled one, “How much trouble are you going to get into between now, and when I can tell your uncle that I am still entirely… and hopelessly… yours?”

...

Even in the dim light, he could see Elladan’s pale skin turn a shade of red and he didn’t even try to stop the smirk that spread on his lips, entire too pleased about the knowledge he had remained important to the elf. However, in mere seconds the situation had turned around and Kili felt his own heart skip a beat as the smooth skin brushed against his rougher one, the warm breath over his ear sending a pleasant shiver down his spine.

“So much trouble,” he laughed quietly, not even trying to hide the fact he was openly tilting his head up and nuzzling closer to the elf, their noses brushing against each others in a light tease and to him it felt as if the tension had ratcheted up a notch. 

They had almost lost each other, he wasn’t going to pretend there was nothing between them.

“It’s the trouble I’ll gladly walk through with you,” Kili added sliding his hand down Elladan’s arm so he could remove the loose fabric covering his wrist. Underneath, frayed and a bit lose hung the bracelet Elladan had made him of his own dark hair; their own promise of the future.

“I never took it off. The moment you closed it around me, I was yours.”

...

Every place of healing had rules.  Important rules that spared the patients from any more pain, and helped speed the mending of whatever ailed them.  Wise rules that Elladan had absolutely no intention of heeding, even with the burning weight of the healer’s eyes on the back of his neck.

Not when Kili had worn his token through all the months and miles that had divided them.  

“Kili…”  He breathed his name like the benediction it felt like, just like he’d said it even night in his prayers since they were parted.  Gripping the edge of the bed, Elladan carefully swung his feet up onto, his weight balanced easily on the edge.  It had been made for a Dwarf broader than Kili, and there was just enough room to curl in against his side, without jostling his beloved.

“I have missed you every minute we’ve been apart.”  Elladan’s eyes half closed as he softly kissed both of Kili’s cheeks.  Even the sounds of the other people in the room was vague and distant, unimportant compared to the man beside him.  “My father guessed why I wished to leave home so suddenly; but as sad as he was to see us leave, I come with his blessings.  So tell me-”

“How does an elf court the prince of Erebor?”

...

The surprised inhale of air and silent murmurs around them fell to deaf ears as Kili carefully positioned himself on the bed beside Elladan, mindful of both of their injuries. The lips felt so warm and comforting against his cold skin and Kili exhaled shakily, covering Elladan’s hand with his own. The words his elf spoke sent the dwarf’s heart racing, teeth nibbling over his lower lip in a nervous habit; he only knew about the courting in theory; he had never given it much thought as he had thought to be alone through his life.

After all, he wasn’t exactly popular on the dwarven scale.

Funnily enough, it seemed like elves enjoyed his presence more.

“Give me a minute, I’m trying to imagine the face your father made when he found out why you left,” he snickered good-naturally to distract himself; after all, he had never in his life heard of an elf who would run away for a dwarf.

An elf prince on top of everything.

“As for courting…” Kili swallowed, feeling his skin crawl as it flushed at the thought. “We’re both princes, so it doesn’t really matter which one of us initiates it. It would have been different had you been a soldier or someone else. The first thing you do is craft a bead of your own and braid it in your intended one’s hair; a public claim and knowledge for others that the person is no longer accepting courting gifts or proposals for others.” 

His fingers brushed through Elladan’s hair lightly at the thought, the smile on his lips reaching his eyes. “Yours would be made from silver or perhaps a gem, and I’m assuming mine would be of wood.”

Polar opposites, but oh so perfect.

...

“Ada is far wiser than I am, little truly confounds him.  He doesn’t understand my choice, but he could see with his own eyes how happy you make me.  And even the Lord of Imladris cannot always know what the heart will choose.”  Elladan laughed quietly under his breath, his lean frame stretched out beside Kili’s on a bed that was just wide enough, and much too short.  “He was surprised, but sends his blessings to us both.”

Elladan only prayed they’d be as lucky with Thorin.

And Kili’s mother.  Ai Valar…

Slowly settling into the space beside him, Elladan tucked one arm under his own dark head, his grey eyes soft in the firelight.  The flickering glow did nothing to hide the way his cheeks coloured, or his half-lidded look of exhausted joy.  With a sigh, he turned his head into Kili’s touch, letting him comb his fingers through his black hair. The long, Elven braids he’d worn on the battlefield had been unwound, leaving only the daily ones plaited back from his temples, and the smooth strands trickled liquidly through Kili’s fingers.

“Traditionally for Elves, yes… Gifts of silver or wood. I think I know just what I’ll do for yours.”  Reaching out, Elladan threaded their free hands together, and drew them to his lips, brushing a lingering kiss across Kili’s knuckles, sealing the smiling promise against his skin.  “But you’ll have to wait to see it!”

...

By that moment, Kili had forgotten everything about the world outside of their little bubble. Had it not been to the fact they were both injured, he would have called that moment perfect; almost rivaling their first night together under the stars where the first tender promises had been made. Now they might not have been under the stars but bathing in the glow of the fire, and instead of smelling the fresh air they smelled herbs, but the promise felt as strong as the one they made all those months ago.

Of course, that was the moment they were interrupted as a very nervous-looking dwarf stepped beside them and cleared their throats.

“I’m very sorry to interrupt your… moment, but we need to re-dress your wounds, my prince.”

The thought was unpleasant for several reasons; he didn’t wish for Elladan to see how mangled his body looked like, and he hadn’t seen himself either. The fear that the injuries were more severe than he felt wormed their way into his brain and Kili sat up gingerly, his teeth grit together to keep the pained huff inside.

A quick glance down told him the reason for the urgent re-dressing, as the fabric had started to stain red. Most likely some of the stitches were still bleeding, especially since he had been moving around so much despite the protests.

“You might want to step outside for this,” he said quietly, offering the elf an understanding if uncertain smile. “I don’t think this will be pretty.”

...

Elladan rose to his feet in a single, liquid moment when the healer approached the bedside, his cheeks flushed pink at the interruption.  It was too easy to get completely wrapped up in Kili, and he suspected his beloved felt the same way.  His brother would never let him hear the end of it if he found out Elladan had let a dwarf sneak up on him because he was entranced by the flickering firelight in Kili’s dark eyes.  

His expression turned solemn as he saw the blood slowly seeping through the bandages, and the razor-clawed fear twisted in his belly once more.  “And sit outside, hoping I come back to find you in one piece?  The last time I let you out of my sight, this happened– it’s going to be some time before I take that chance again!”

The healer couldn’t see the way his fingers tightened at his side, his mouth set with stubborn resolve.  

“My father is a renowned healer, I’ve spent most of my life around the Halls of Healing.”  He added, half to the healer who looked like she was trying to find an excuse to evict the elf from her patient’s side.  “I neither faint at the sight of blood, nor intend to interfere with his care… But don’t ask me to leave him.”

The healer’s eyes widened in surprise, taking in the earnestness in Elladan’s grey gaze.  With a resigned huff, won over despite herself, she motioned to a space by the wall, and planted her hand on her hip, “Over there, then.  And not a peep out of you!”

...

The words Elladan spoke woke up a new kind of warmth within the dwarf; it coiled around his chest like a warm hug, earnest and comforting and caring. He had not heard anyone aside his own family speak about him with such passion and as embarrassing as it was, Kili felt his eyes burn with unshed tears. 

Elladan was truly turning him into a huge softie, wasn’t he?

“I’m not going to argue against that,” was his watery response accompanied with a chuckle, his gaze averted on his hands which rested over his lap. He didn’t want Elladan or the other dwarves to see just how much of an effect Elladan had on him, even if he had a feeling the elf himself knew.

He complied with the healer’s nudges and words without complaining, though he could not stop the small hiss as the fabric was peeled from his wet skin. As he had thought, part of the stitches had ripped a tad; not enough to be dangerous but definitely enough to bleed and cause him discomfort. The unhappy mutters of the healer merely made his own lip quick up and he finally met Elladan’s gaze with his own, shrugging his shoulders in a rather sheepish way.

His fingers clutched at the sheets as a salve was smeared over the cleaned wound and he breathed rapidly through his nose, biting back low curses of his native tongue. His skin felt as if it was on fire, making it very hard for him not to wipe the skin clean with his hand.

“Next time, wait until I’m asleep or unconscious before doing this!”

...

“I would rather hear you complain!  If you have enough strength to protest the quality of your excellent care–” The healer chuckled under her breath, and rolled her eyes at Kili as if to say, ‘elves are strange sorts!’ “–Then you must be on your way to mending.”

From his place at the wall, Elladan had a half view of the woman changing Kili’s bandages and setting him to right again, the astringent scent of the healing balm filling the air and burning the back of his nose. It smelled like potent stuff, and watching her work was a welcome distraction from the lingering fear of losing the stubborn dwarf that had so captured his heart.

Elladan had never expected to find love.  Now he could scarcely take his eyes off him.

When the healer had finished her work, and giving Kili a strict admonishment for wriggling around too much, Elladan hurried back over to his bedside with a rueful, relieved smile. “Peace, be gentle with yourself!”  The words were punctuated with a breathy laugh as Elladan caught both of Kili’s hands and brought them to his mouth. His lips were warm against his knuckles– and had the added benefit of stopping Kili from actually trying to wipe away the salve.

“Be still a moment and let it work. I’ll bring you something of our own medicine tomorrow, and see if you prefer it– but for now, rest.  And if you cannot-”  Elladan smiled against his fingers mischievously, “You can translate all you just said.  How funny that curses in your tongue sound so similar to ones in mine!”

...

“I’m afraid your ears would drop off if I were to translate what blasphemy I just spoke!” Kili laughed between grit teeth, trying to focus his attention on the feeling of Elladan’s fingers around his own and the warm lips pressing against his skin. By now, he no longer cared if the healers saw; they would have to be both blind and deaf to not realize something deeper ran between the two than just friendship.

The stinging and burning of his skin did not ease up for what felt like hours but were only several minutes, and once it finally began to subdue the dwarf relaxed with a relieved sigh. He acknowledged the healer saying that they would have to wait for it all to dry before redressing the wound but now that the pain was gone, all he could focus on was Elladan.

“I’m thankful that you’re staying by my side,” he murmured, voice barely above a whisper. Within their kin, it was not a weakness to be hurt in a war, but the remaining scars would always be a reminder that while he lived, he had not been strong enough to protect those he cared for. While some looked upon them as a mark of war, something to be proud of, Kili himself felt great shame for allowing Elladan to be hurt in the first place.  

“I hope you do not think of me as weak for being injured so badly; I promise I can protect you.”

...

Of all the things Elladan expected to hear, an apology was nowhere on that list!  In confusion, he sank down carefully on the edge of the bed, Kili’s hands still safely folded in his own. “Hush, I want none of those words.  Neither of us could have defeated Bolg without the other– do you ask me to linger in shame because you were injured?”

Somehow, Elladan didn’t think he would.

The speculating gazes of the healers had become nothing more that a vague annoyance, hovering at the edges of his awareness.  It was something he couldn’t entirely turn off, not when he was in a strange place; and especially one so filled with Dwarves that may take offense to his presence here.  Valar knew things hadn’t always gone well between their people.

“We’re stronger together, but nobody is infallible in battle.  You lived, Kili… Nothing else matters to me.”

Elladan would never forget the fear kindled in his soul when he, Elrohir and Fili had carried Kili’s body down the rocky mountainside; or the blood that had slicked their hands and stained their boots. Clasping their hands more tightly, Elladan leaned down to rest their foreheads together, careful of the bandages wrapped about Kili’s head.

“Love me, and mend.” He murmured, smiling, “When you’re well, I’ll ask your uncle for his blessing.  Then the world will know what I’ve known from the night we met– I am yours, for always.”

...

The elves’ words were followed by the nearly scandalized gasps of the healers; a sound that soon turned into awkward coughs and shuffling as they finally decided that perhaps it would be for the best to give the two some privacy. Perhaps later he would be embarrassed how open the two of them had been despite their company but for now, he could not focus on anything or anyone else than Elladan.

The other did not think of him as weak or a burden and that was such a relief to hear that the dwarf couldn’t help but chuckle and close his eyes as he embraced the other with his less wounded arm.

“You’re too good for me,” he murmured fondly, breathing in deeply the other’s scent through the smell of herbs and dirt and finding comfort in it. “The healing will take a while and I’m not certain when I’ll be released from this wing but will you wait for me?” 

The dwarf understood if Elladan had other duties to return to; after all, he was also a prince. As much as he wanted to keep the elf beside him, he would never forgive himself if Elladan got left behind in his duties or whatnot.

On the other hand, he was allowed to be a bit selfish, right?

They had quite literally just gone through hell, and he could not imagine what had been going on in Elladan’s mind while he had been unconscious. 

“Do you think they would give us the glare if we were to ask for a bed to be made next to me?”

...

“Oh Kili…”  Elladan’s voice was soft, the adoring sigh wrapped around his name like a benediction.  “I will wait for you unto the end of the world, if I must.  And while I wait-”  With a teasing smile, Elladan gathered Kili’s broad, strong hand between his own slender ones, and brought his fingers to his lips.

“I will come visit you every day, and I shall bring you news of what happens outside your healing halls.  Of the rebuilding of your beautiful city, and the peace Elrohir and I are determined to foster between our people.  I foresee a future where loving you keeps me very busy… But not out of trouble, naturally!”

He’d almost lost Kili once, and even now– sitting on the edge of his bed, hand in hand, with the future uncertain ahead of them, Elladan couldn’t quell the bright joy that kindled hotly in his chest. 

Kili was alive.  And they were together.

The rest of the world– Elf and Dwarf alike– would simply have to learn to accept that.

Laughing quietly against his knuckles, Elladan looked down at Kili across their joined hands, and pressed a kiss to the hollow of his palm for safekeeping, “Let me stay with my brother, that we may find some way of making ourselves useful to your Uncle.  It can be your incentive to heal– the sooner you’re freed from this place, the sooner I can sleep at your side.”

...

As much as he had thought Elladan would say those words, the dwarf couldn’t help the way his lips pulled into a small pout; he disliked it at the healing wing with the overly fussing healers and brother and whatnot. But in a way he understood; had the situation been reversed, he’d be fussing over his brother or Elladan just as much. As it were, he was the one majorly injured so he just had to go through it.

The way Elladan’s warm lips glided over his fingers brought him comfort and Kili smiled as he brushed one of his fingers down the elf’s jawline. “You have valid reasoning but I’ll still yearn to be beside you every night,” he promised, the thought alone sending a thrill of excitement up his spine. 

After his recovery, they could truly share a bed for the first time. He longed to see what Elladan looked like in the mornings, how his voice sounded after a good nights sleep and had he had the strength his mind would have come up with several more noises he would love to learn to hear but as it was, he was beginning to feel the strain on his body as his eyelids grew heavier.

“I’m afraid I cannot fight sleep any longer,” he apologized, his words beginning to slur together. He knew he’d be alone in mere minutes but clung onto the elf nevertheless, prolonging their contact together for at least one more second.

“Help me lay down?”

...

With warm, careful hands, Elladan helped Kili more comfortably into his bed, and smoothed the blankets straight over him.  “Sleep is what your body needs to heal.  And the sooner you are well, the sooner we can make up for all these months of lost time.”  He whispered cheekily, for Kili’s ears alone.

Best not to scandalize the healers too much more!

He waited until his beloved had drifted into sleep, hands joined over the blankets.  He’d come so close to losing him… Even now, knowing he was safe and mending, Elladan watched the sleep-slow rise and fall of his chest, and let his fingers linger over the steady thud of his pulse, letting the proof of his life soothe a little of the ice in his belly that was taking an age to thaw.

“I’ll return later.”  He said to the healers before he departed, bowing low and respectfully (which made the elder smile reluctantly, and the younger flush pink).  

Elladan was certain that word of their meeting would have reached Thorin before long, if it hadn’t already.  The thought stirred something nervous beside the ice, but the alternative had been not to see Kili.  Impossible.

One day slipped into two, and five, the passing of time marked by their brief visits.  During the days the twins lent their hands to whatever jobs the dwarves needed done.  Sometimes that meant moving stones from the grand entrance (a job assigned to embarrass– and which the twins had performed capably, without complaint, much to the grudging surprise and respect of their overseer!).  And on others, they traveled out into the valley in search of fish and game, as the survivors of the war began to stock for the approaching winter.

By night they stayed with Thranduil’s camp, until the elves began to depart once more for the Mirkwood.

Elladan’s visits to the halls of healing were short but lively, bringing stories of the repairs and the world outside like mountain.  And by the fifth day, even the old healer with the gimlet eye, had softened his grudging scowl.  

His world felt suspended, waiting for Kili to heal enough to be allowed out of the infirmary.  By now, Elladan was sure that Thorin knew.. And yet, the Dwarf king hadn’t spoken a word to him.

“Thranduil’s people leave with the dawn.”  Elladan relayed during his daily visit, his light frame perched on the edge of Kili’s bed. “But the people of the lake have generously offered to let us stay with them a time.  So you see?”  He lifted their joined hands to punctuate the words with a kiss to his knuckles, “You’ll not be rid of me yet.”

...

“I’ll try to get you both inside the mountain as soon as I can,” Kili promised with a bright smile, feeling the familiar fondness towards the elf as the other kissed his knuckles. Elladan hadn’t been the only one telling him stories from the outside world; his brother visited often and always brought new stories of how the dwarves had tried so hard to chase the elves away with tasks that were not fit for them, and how despite the dislike towards them the twins had done their jobs gladly and without complaining.

It was sort of hilarious that two young elves acted more mature than older dwarves.

But he knew some of the dwarves were softening towards Elladan in particular as his visits to the healing wing were not a secret anymore and the rumors had started to grow wings around them as dwarves around the castle begun to wonder what was going on behind the closed doors.

During those days Kili’s strength begun to return slowly.

He was cleared from any mortal danger as it seemed like no infection was taking place inside his wounds; he’d just have to be careful not to rip his stitches and not hit his head anywhere for the next months. It would still take a couple of days before he’d be released, but his spirit was high despite the discomfort.

How could it not be, when he had Elladan beside him?

His fingers stroked through the elf’s dark locks and he smiled as he watched them slip across his skin.

“I must admit I’m starting to feel very impatient laying here every day. I wish to join the rebuilding as soon as possible.”

...

The Elven folk were never meant to live beneath the ground, and Elladan was still disconcertingly aware of the sheer tonnage of raw stone above his head.  An impenetrable wall between him, and the stars.  But every day the path from the entrance to the halls of healing became a little more comfortable, and the faces of the Dwarves, more familiar.  

It was a relief, for when Thranduil’s company returned home in the morning, there would be none of their own people left in the valley.  Rivendell was far due west, and Lorien in the south-west, further still.  But they had one another, and during their long years among the Dunedain, that had been enough.

It was still enough.

“Soon, my dear, stubborn heart!  You’ll be free long before the first snow, and I swear, we’ll leave some of the rebuilding for you.”  Elladan laughed, and turned his head to press a kiss to the heel of Kili’s hand, his mouth curved in a smile.  “But since you’ve been so patient, shall I tell you the news I overheard when I arrived today?”

During his second visit, one of the healers had set a chair at Kili’s bedside, but Elladan – contrary by nature– had always chosen to perch at the edge of the bed.  One foot tucked behind his knee, he let Kili comb his fingers through his long fall of black hair, the soft edges tickling the side of his neck when Elladan leaned down to kiss his cheeks.

“Ravens travel faster than those of us on land.  And your mother sends word that they’ve left Ered Luin, and begun the trek home.”

...

The news of his mother’s arrival made him feel several things at once.

Joy, for he would soon be reunited with his entire family.

Relief, for his mother’s good health.

And dread, for he was sure his mother would have his head as soon as she heard what had happened. Not to mention the rumors that were floating around Erebor about him and the certain elf. He just hoped Dis would not scare Elladan away.

While Dis was more openminded and relaxed than Thorin, she still made grown dwarves shake in their boots when she got angry or demanded answers. The two brothers had been on the receiving end of her wrath more than once.

“My mother can be intimidating at times, and I’m sure there’s a lot she wishes to know,” Kili warned his lover, his brows furrowed a bit in thought. “No doubt she’s going to whack the back of my head for acting recklessly, not to mention I’ve gone and fallen for an elf. I just hope you can handle her,” he winced shaking his head a bit, which only made him feel a tad nauseated; a sign he was on his way to recovery, as it didn’t make him cry out anymore.

“What about your father and brother? Are they still by your side and approve of your decision to be here with me?”

...

Time healed all things, from the rift between the people of the mountain and those who lived in Dale (a slow healing wound, but it had begun to knit), to the hurts of those who had been injured in the war.  It took longer than anyone wanted, but eventually; with good medicine and patience; the last of the wounded prepared to be released back into the wider world.

They all had a few new scars for their trouble, but they lived; and in the end, that was more important than anything else.

“We’re almost there.”  Elladan laughed under his breath as he and Kili made their way through the long, winding tunnels.  It was maze beneath the mountain, but as the weeks had passed, Elladan had learned to find his way about.  Living beneath the stone still didn’t feel right, but as the temperature dropped outside?  He couldn’t help but be grateful for the heavy, insulating rock walls.

And he knew the path to Kili’s chambers by heart; mostly because he, Fili and Elrohir had been cleaning and straightening them in anticipation of Kili’s release.  

“Just around another corner, it’s not far now. You should be glad I’m walking with you; Ori was suggesting you’d be better off ferried about in a wheelbarrow!”

...

“Ori’s being overprotective; he’s almost worse than my brother!”

The dwarf laughed as he followed after Elladan, his heart racing with excitement and joy to finally be able to walk freely through the many tunnels of Erebor. Too many painstakingly slow weeks had passed in the healing wing and he was sure that if he’d had to stay for one more day he’d lose his mind. Elladan had already done his best to keep him entertained during his recovery, and it felt unfair to ask him for more.

To finally be able to explore without having to worry about his injuries and fully understand how far their journey had brought them felt mindblowing, and he still struggled to grasp the idea of being an official prince after the coronation. 

“You seem awfully eager to show me my own chambers; are you that desperate to get me to yourself?” He teased lightly, brushing a light touch down Elladan’s spine; a mere tease. 

Of course, he was curious to see what his new living place would look like but in all honesty, all he could think about was having some time alone with Elladan away from the prying eyes of his family or the healers.

...

They were a long way from that quiet forest beyond the light of Imladris.  And yet, despite the distance, and the war, and the sidelong glances they got from every Dwarf they passed?  Kili’s hand on his back still made Elladan’s skin feel warm and alive.  

“Could you blame me?”  He laughed cheerfully, his delight at being with Kili (and without the constant presence of the healers!) written clearly in every line of his body.  It was in the way he leaned into Kili’s space, drawn by the gravity and magnetism of him; and the way he smiled, like the world was made just a bit better because Kili was there.

“I’ve traveled all this way to be with you, and so far the healers have spent more time with you than I have!  We both have much time to make up for.”

And now that they were both here, and the orcs dispatched, they had the time to do it.

Reaching Kili’s new chambers, Elladan reached for the door, hand hovering above the handle playfully, trying to hide the nerves that lurked behind his grey eyes.  “If you don’t like it, we’ll move you to another set.  There’s no shortage of room beneath the mountain, my prince.”

The rooms were at the edge of the mountain face, instead of buried deep in the heart of the stone.  And unlike the other rooms, this one was lit, not with torches and braziers, but by the gleam of late autumn sunshine.  The main room was a small, cosy space with a wide hearth and worn, comfortable furniture that had obviously been raided from elsewhere in the mountain.  An archway lead through to what must be a bedroom, but it was dark.

But the main chamber was dominated by a strange thing– well, a strange thing for a Dwarven city.

One wall looked as though it had taken damage, but the stonework had been carefully shored up and repaired.  But instead of simply rebuilding the wall, the open space had been filled with with panes of leaded glass.  

From here, Kili could look down the side of the mountain and across the vast plain, all the way to the glimmering lake– as blue as the clear autumn sky overhead.

A window to the sky, in a very Dwarven home.

...

Whatever he had expected his chamber to look like, it definitely wasn’t this.

For several minutes Kili could only gape silently as he slowly circled the room, fingers brushing over the worn furniture and the doorway to his bedroom. It was almost too much for someone who had spent most of his life sharing a small room with his brother in a small house, and now his chamber alone was larger than their house had been.

This would be his place now.

His home.

But what really drew his attention was the large window, keen eyes inspecting every small detail on the glass and the view behind it. He was sure no one else had a chamber like this; dwarves had no use for such large windows nor glass, preferring to keep small holes on the walls instead. The view was absolutely breathtaking and the way his chamber bathed in the golden light made him feel warm and fuzzy; as if the war had never happened.

“Did you do this?” He asked softly, turning to look at his lover with fond eyes, fearing his heart might actually give out under how much love he felt towards the elf.

...

Even with Fili and Elrohir’s reassurances, Elladan had felt like he’d been sitting on pins and needles, waiting for Kili to see the room they’d prepared for him.  It was a strange room for a Dwarf– but then, wasn’t it strange for a Dwarf to be in love with an Elf?

From the doorway, he watched his beloved survey the chambers with an unreadable expression, moving from furniture to window to door, like he couldn’t quite believe what he was seeing!

“With help.”  Elladan’s voice nearly broke, his usually confident chatter turned tight with nerves.  “The people of Dale wanted to thank Elrohir and I for all our help, but they have so little right now, we refused.  But they’re a proud people…”  He sketched a smile, and leaned back against the door frame, his fingers tap-tapping lightly on his thigh.

“They’re rebuilding but much of the city is still in shambles.  The glass was part of a building that couldn’t be saved.  They had no use for it–”  He paused a beat, and finally looked over at Kili, meeting his gaze, “But it seemed a perfect solution to a space of our own.”

...

Space of our own.

Those simple words resonated with his heart, making it flutter like the wings of a butterfly. The thought and knowledge that Elladan had worked all this time to make this a place for the two of them made him feel nearly high with happiness and elation. Of course, he’d have to remember to thank the townspeople as well for their donation; truly, this was a chamber fit for the two princes.

So different, yet matching together almost perfectly.

He did not even try to stop the smile that spread on his lips as he closed the distance between them and wrapped his arms around Elladan tightly. He was allowed to have this; to be with Elladan, build a life together with the elven prince. They had gone through literal hell to get to this point but Mahal, was it worth it.

“It’s absolutely perfect for us. Thank you.”

Kili rose on his toes and pressed his lips lightly over Elladan’s, winding his arms around the elf’s neck for support. He yearned this; he wanted Elladan to remain with him, make a home with him. Wanted to make the courting gift and claim the elf as his own, wanted to make them official so all the people would know not to touch what was his.

...

Elladan had never expected to find someone to love.  He and Elrohir were too different from the caste of their people; too wild, too influenced by the eclipsed human blood in their veins.  Their birth gave them noble standing and graces, but it could not undo their mischief, or the Númenorean blood in their veins.

But Kili was no elf.  And twice as impossible as any elven maid or human beloved.

“Thank the Valar for that.  I wasn’t sure what you’d make of it!”  Elladan heaved a breathless, sighing laugh, and leaned over to meet Kili halfway in a long overdue kiss.  “Dwalin and the others helped us bring the glass up the side of the mountain, but he kept looking at me like I’d planned to move you into a talan, like a bird, instead of perfectly safe behind your own stones.”

Elladan grinned for the first time that day, his whole expression alight with relief, and incandescently happy to have Kili where he belonged (chiefly, out of the halls of healing!)  “Everyone is going to want to hear the story of what happened on Weathertop tonight.  Our brothers and I have refused to tell the tale until you were free of the healers.”

“There are a dozen young things that think you’re quite the dashing hero.  Wisdom says I should enjoy the time I have alone with you, before they try to steal you away!”

...

“I’m no hero,” Kili said quietly, fingers twisting and playing with the fabric of Elladan’s robes. He had never considered himself a hero, and what he had done on Weathertop that day was only a desperate fight for survival, for keeping Elladan alive. There was nothing heroic in the way he let the orc pierce through him.

But who knew what sort of heroic tales those youngsters were already spreading around.

“I used to enjoy stories from the war; I suppose in a way, I thought the way those youngsters do now. However, I never thought it would be like this for those who survived. That desperate, fleeting moment one clings to own life… There’s nothing heroic about that.”

It was a sobering though. After all, dwarves prided themselves about their scars and survival but did they all also feel this heavy weight upon them? Did they stare death in the eye, and fear for that second?

“You’re right about one thing, though,” he chuckled, stealing another kiss from Elladan’s lips. “We should make the best of the time we have together now before the party, and not dwell on what happened. So, what do you want to do?” The question was asked with a slow brush of finger down Elladan’s neck, feeling the smooth skin under his fingertips as a slow grin spread on his lips.

“I personally have a couple of suggestions.”

...

“Nobody feels like a hero from this side, ithildinen, we’re too aware of how afraid we were at the time.”

It was one of the wisest things his father had ever told him, a long time ago when the twins were still young and grieving the mother’s leaving.  It hadn’t seemed fair at the time; they’d rescued her, they’d saved her.  Heroes weren’t supposed to be left behind at the end of the story.  

Heroes existed in stories, not in life.  

Elladan smiled against Kili’s mouth, before pulling him over to the low, comfortable couch he and Fili had dragged into the room earlier that day.  “You’re the one that’s been trapped under the care of the good healers; so long as we’re together, I am entirely at my lord’s convenience!”

Sinking down onto the couch, Elladan reached for Kili’s hand, their fingers curling together like they’d been fashioned to fit that way.  “I still can hardly believe that we’re both here.”  He admitted ruefully, folding Kili’s hand between both of his own.

“I know this won’t be easy, but here we are.  And with the blessing of most of our families.  There were so many times that I was afraid I’d dreamed you.”  His smile mirrored his beloved’s, as he lavished kisses over his fingers, “Now I have you, and I can believe that you’re real.”

...

“You already have me, there’s no reason to try to steal my heart again,” Kili murmured a tad flustered, his skin tingling under the gentle kisses. It felt odd to be treated like he was something fragile, something that could break if held on too tightly but he had to admit it was not a bad sensation. 

The would only have mere hours before they’d be whisked away once again, but at least he could steal moments with Elladan at the celebration; it’s not like they had to be hiding as people were already talking, and as soon as he’d get the bead done for Elladan’s hair he would publicly claim the elf as his own.

The mere thought sent his heart racing. 

“I wonder if this celebration will be a repetition from our first one,” he teased, thumb running over Elladan’s knuckles. “It’s hard to wrap my mind around the fact that one evening gave us such a bright future.”

...

In short order, their brothers would probably be looking for them; Fili because he worried, and his little brother had been stuck in the Halls of Healing for weeks, and Elrohir because he was curious about the dwarven man that had so capture Elladan’s heart.  

But for now, for just a few moments, Elladan didn’t have to share him with anyone.

“There are many worse things it could be!  Though, if it is?  I refuse to let you leave the table with any mischievous other elves!”  The couch was comfortable as they sank down into the pillows, Elladan’s body half twisted to the side so he could lean into Kili’s chest, careful not to jostle his still tender injuries.

Slowly he unfolded his fingers to thread their hands together, squeezing down to make sure (without a doubt!) that he was real.  Elladan could scarcely believe it, after all they’d been through.  It seemed a little impossible that all could have come right.  

“Truthfully, I’m not sure what to expect from your people tonight.”  With a grin, Elladan leaned in to kiss the side of Kili’s neck, before sliding down to rest his head on his shoulder, breathing in the smell of sweat and healing herbs that clung to his skin, “But I find myself impatient to find out!”

...

“I’m assuming you’ve never been to a dwarven party before,” Kili grinned, his skin still prickling with goosebumps from the kiss Elladan had placed on the side of his neck. He shifted carefully so he could wrap his arm around the elf’s waist, absently rubbing his fingers in slow circles against the fabric of his robes. 

The couch was definitely from the people of Lake Town; it was long enough to fit the two of them easily and the soft fabric was not something he had seen on the dwarven furniture before.

“I can already warn you that it’s a lot more noisy and boisterous than the celebration you’re used to,” he chuckled brushing his lips tenderly over Elladan’s forehead, the smooth hair tickling his lips. “Our race is rowdy and loud and have basically no shame, especially where ale is involved. And this is the first celebration of Erebor so it’s safe to assume it’s going to be very grand and last well through the night; if not to the following day!”

His eyes shone with mischief, fingers prodding at his lover’s side. “No one blames you if it’s too much and you wish to retire early.”

...

“This sounds like a familiar taunt, I’m sure I’ve heard it before!”  

It had been an exhausting few weeks, from the long trek out of Rivendell and across the mountains, to the pitch of battle, and the long healing afterwards.  Even an immortal elf (perhaps especially this immortal elf!) could grow impatient with the slowness of it all.  

A loud, raucous celebration sounded like just the things to liven the routine they’d all fallen into.  A bit of a change, since there was no time to rest before winter came.  

With a shallow yawn, Elladan stretched out his long legs and draped against Kili’s side, molded in warm beneath the weight of his beloved’s arm.  “I’m not so delicate I can’t handle a little noise– as well you know!  Unless you’ve forgotten than you still owe me a kiss from the last time I beat you.”

“No, if I leave the reveling early, it’ll be because I can’t keep my hands away from you any longer.  And there are things it would be impolite to do in front of your family!”

...

The mental images Elladan was planting in his head brought a fresh layer of blush on his skin, his lips parting a bit in surprise from the words. Sure, the two had shared several kisses throughout their time together but it had never escalated further than that. Granted, usually the time was against them but perhaps soon they’d have the opportunity to explore further.

“You’re making it very hard for me to find a reason to go to this party, and not lock you up here with me just so you could make good of your words, you tease,” he murmured roughly, fingers tightening their hold of Elladan’s robe, a low noise vibrating from his chest.

Dwarves were known for being impatient; if Elladan kept teasing him this way, he wouldn’t be responsible for what happened next.

“You’re toying with fire, my dear,” he added, propping himself on his elbow so he could press a light, teasing kiss on the elf’s lips.

...

For the first time since they’d met, Kili and Elladan were truly alone.

There were no healer’s here, watching with disapproving glances.  Or the rest of the Dwarven company laughing at what they thought was a joke, or scowling darkly when they began to suspect it wasn’t.  There were no brothers vying for their attention, and no stolen hours– come morning, neither of them would be leaving.

No more distance.  Not more waiting.  No more enforced separation.

“And miss the chance to watch the whole of Erebor hanging on the tale you and Fili have to tell?  I’m not such a fool!”  Elladan shifted under the weight of Kili’s arm, his long, lean body stretched across the couch and draped artfully against his beloved’s chest.  This, he thought with a boyish grin, was something he fully intended to get used to.

One kiss melted into two, and five, and fifty; the world contracting down blissfully until it was only the two of them, and the hot slide of Kili’s mouth against his own.  “Toying with it?”  He asked between kisses, his tone breathless and lilted with amusement, “I rather thought I was encouraging it.  But, of course… If you’re too terribly injured still, I’ll behave and keep my hands to myself…!”

...

Each kiss lasted a tad longer than the other, and with each passing kiss, Kili began to feel more and more lightheaded. Each inhale felt too short to relieve the craving of air to his lungs, but he could not care less; not when their lips claimed each other over and over again, their breath mingling together.

“Don’t you dare,” Kili threatened breathlessly, fingers tightening their hold of Elladan’s robes as if physically preventing the other from leaving. He had no clue whether minutes or hours had passed during their embrace yet he knew he craved for more; a fire had been lit inside of him and each kiss poured more fuel to the growing flames. When he had deemed Elladan’s lips kissed enough, he tilted his head so he could brush his nose against the elf’s ear, catching the lobe between his teeth with a low, rumbling growl.

“Unless you’re afraid you’re not… what did you say back in Rivendell again? Skilled enough to make a mess out of me?”

...

Elladan wasn’t entirely sure when they’d slid down on the couch, chest to chest and legs tangled together– but he couldn’t bring himself to care about something so small, not when Kili’s breath was ghosting across his neck, sending shivers down his spine.  

“I don’t know if I have the.. skills… But I’m a quick study.”  He promised, his voice coloured with breathless amusement, “Being a mess may prove a bit of a trouble, since they’re.. ohh…”  

With a tilt of his head and a low shudder, Elladan half flinched away from the sharpness of Kili’s teeth on his pointed ear.  “Careful, ithildinen…”

“They’re going to be expecting us down in the hall soon, and I’m not sure this–”  Elladan was fairly sure his argument would be a lot more convincing if the words weren’t punctuated with kisses.  But it felt like they’d been waiting forever; an eternity of too-little time and chaperoning healers.  “If we show up disheveled, they’ll think I’m only with you because you’re beautiful!”

...

“Mahal, are you going to continue speaking such poetry to me for the rest of our lives?” Kili chuckled breathlessly, trailing small kisses down from Elladan’s ear to his neck, giving the skin a tiny nip. “Because I could get used to that.” 

Clearly, he did not care for what the elf had said about them having to be presentable for the others; he had waited long enough to hear such sighs fall from his lover’s lips, had waited for them to be able to turn their teasing words into actions. With Elladan’s warm body pressed against his own and those lips parted for a whisper of his name, leaving the couch was the absolute last thing on his mind.

He feared someone would have to come to tear them apart if people wished for their attendance at the party.

“It’s your fault for being so irresistible,” he muttered accusingly, slipping his leg between Elladan’s own to press closer to the elf, fingers moving to thread through his hair.

...

With a mischievous grin, Elladan ducked his head against the side of Kili’s neck, his lips brushing the soft spot just beneath his ear.  “Ah well, if it’s poetry you want!”  He teased, looping both arms around his beloved, “I’m sure I can manage something to appease you.”

One day, he wanted to learn Kili’s language; to know the syllables that resonated in parts of his heart that the common tongue couldn’t reach.  But until then?  His own would have to suffice.

“Ten anno hiniath o nin… Pedo gûr hen dartha thenin… A mibo thîr dín ah mipheleg… A tiro din, seron vell nín.”  He murmured, breath warm against Kili’s neck.  

Tangled together in their own space felt like an impossible luxury, a blessing after the long months apart.  With idle hands, Elladan smoothed his fingers over one of Kili’s braids, the plait frayed and loose from spending so long stuck in bed.  “Let me fix this before you leave?”  He asked, voice softening an uncertain octave, “Elrohir and I have been allowed to attend tonight because we had some small part in your story.  But I know you’ll be sitting with Fili, and your uncle; it’s right, after all the three of your endured.”

“But fixing you up… It’s a small thing, until I can finish the proper bead for your hair.”

...

One day, he’d ask Elladan to teach some of those elvish words that were whispered against his neck, curious to know the meaning behind such soft-sounding words. Each syllable made him shiver as the elf’s breath ghosted over his skin, and he still felt a bit out of it by the time Elladan moved over to fix his hair.

The intimate action brought his heart to a skidding halt before beating even faster, his mouth running dry at the mere thought of having Elladan fix his braids. Normally, he would not bother to wear them but as of now, those braids spoke of his royal blood and his heritage, and thus, he had to wear them.

But wearing a braid with Elladan’s bead in it sounded absolutely lovely.

“You can fix them,” he murmured softly, his own fingers drawing absent shapes over Elladan’s chest. He could feel the beat of Elladan’s heart under his palm and it brought a smile to his lips, the joy of having such a wonderful lover as his own making him feel nearly elated.

“You do know I’ll escape the moment I can to join you and your brother instead, right?” He asked laughing. “I do not wish to be stared at for hours on some sort of pedestal when I could have a drink with the two of you.”

...

Beyond their chamber doors, the rest of the mountain was preparing for the evening’s celebration.  They had survived the dragon and reclaimed their home, and the last of their wounded had been released from the halls of healing.  And it was as much as celebration of the living, as it was the lives of those they’d lost.

Elladan’s heart stuttered in his chest, the cadence catching under Kili’s fingers, “Sit up, then.  We’ll see you beautiful before you go.”  The words were light, but his smile was earnest and soft, and so very aware of the intimacy his lover had granted him.

With a final kiss, Elladan sat up and made himself comfortable on one end of the couch, and waited for Kili to settle himself.  Every touch made his fingers tingle, warm with the realization that this could be… would be… what their life looked like.  The two of them, here.  Like this.  

Ai Valar… how could he be so lucky?

“Of course you will!”  He laughed and brought himself back to reality, light fingers starting to unravel Kili’s frayed braids, “Let your people hear your story, and celebrate your survival.  Then you can escape back to me.”

...

The dwarf turned around on the couch, sitting cross-legged in front of Elladan so that the other could easily reach his hair. A shiver ran through his body at the very first touch over his scalp and Kili felt glad the other could not see how flustered his face had become from such a simple action. 

No one aside from his family had touched his hair like this before; and only Fili had tried to braid it a couple of times in their youth.

But it had never felt quite like this.

The air around them felt electrified, the soft glow from the lit fireplace the only source of light in their chamber making the entire situation feel even more intimate than it probably should be. It felt as if they were in their own little world; lulled into a sense of comfort and security, Elladan’s soft voice in his ears the only thing keeping him from drifting away.

“Too bad you’re too tall; I can’t just hide you underneath the table to keep me company,” Kili sighed, laughter evident in his voice; for wouldn’t that be a sight to behold!

“I can try to tell my story but how am I supposed to concentrate when I’ll be too busy staring at my very own star?”

...

“I dread to think what your uncle would think of that!  I’m trying to convince him that I’m a fit husband for a Dwarven prince– hiding under the table might not play into my favour!”  Kili’s dark hair spilled through his fingers as Elladan dissolved into laughter, leaning forward to press a warm kiss to the to crown of his beloved’s head.

He didn’t suppose it was any surprise that he was nervous about the whole evening.  It was one thing to have the people of Erebor speculating about the two of them; but it was another to have it confirmed.  Even if neither of them were wearing the signs of their unofficial betrothal, Elladan felt like it was printed clearly across his face.

I love this man.  And I will do anything to be with him.

“Hush… If I was a star, I would be far out of reach.  You couldn’t touch me, or kiss me; yet here I am!  And here you are.”  Gently Elladan combed out the last of the plaits with his fingers, carefully working out all the little knots that had tangled in during his long convalescence.  

He could feel the crackle of energy between them, electric on his skin; but it was a comfortable thing.  An awareness of the warmth of Kili’s body against his own, and the dip of the pillows beneath their weight.  There was no particular urgency in it; just… This.  Their long absence soothed by their closeness.  

Carefully, Elladan gathered his long hair over his shoulder, and made short work of freeing a few of the tiny, Elven beads.  They were rich blue lapis, the stone veined with threads of silvery mica.  “I’ll keep a few for myself, lest your people think you’re intending to match with Elrohir!”

...

“Now wouldn’t that be a scoop! The dwarven prince mistook his lover’s twin to be his own,” Kili giggled, honest of God giggled at the mere thought. He wasn’t sure who would be more embarrassed if that were to happen; him or Elrohir! Thankfully, he was pretty sure he would recognise his elf if the two stood beside each other.

The knowledge of carrying Elladan’s own beads in his hair sent his heart racing; he didn’t care if they weren’t regal. They were still fit for a prince and they were Elladan’s. That’s all that mattered.

“I can’t wait to start making the beads for you,” he admitted smiling, tilting his head back a bit once he felt Elladan’s fingers return to their work. “Though I’m torn between all of the options! I could sink emerald into mithril, or find a stone that matches the color of your eyes. Or I could try to see what stands out from your hair so that everyone would see them from a distance.”

...

“We would never hear the end of it!”  Kneeling behind Kili, Elladan leaned over to press a kiss to the broad sweep of his shoulder, warm and affectionate.  “For the sake of my pride, be sure you’re kissing the right twin.  Elrohir is not half so pretty as I am!”

Which was a lie.  Nobody in all their lives had reliably been able to tell the sons of Elrond apart.  Even their grandmother, the great lady Galadriel, and their father-- two of the wises people in Arda, and bearers of two of the rings of power-- had found it difficult!  The twins were but one divided soul, one fëa in two bodies.

“I know already what I’m going to use for yours, but my impatient heart thinks it’s taking too long.”  He laughed at his own foibles, his hands still moving carefully through Kili’s hair.

“I want it to be perfect.”  With every pass he worked out a few more of the stubborn knot, dark strands sliding between his fingers.  “For the world to know that we belong together, always.”

...

“I still cannot believe you are mine,” Kili sighed wistfully, his scalp tingling pleasantly the more Elladan worked with his hair. He wished this moment could last forever; just him and his lover in the warm glow of the fire, their soft murmurs or affection the only sound that could be heard and the touch of their skin the softest sensation in the chamber.

Of course, that was the moment someone knocked on the doors and they were pushed open revealing a servant of their kingdom.

“My apologies, my prince, but I have a message from Thorin. His highness wishes for you to change into your regal gear and join him in the High Hall for the celebration of the kingdom.”

The prince groaned and tipped his head back against Elladan’s shoulder; an action that made the servant shift on his feet almost uncomfortably.

“Thank you, I’ll be there soon,” Kili dismissed the servant who scurried away hurriedly, closing the doors after him.

“Why am I not allowed to have more than mere measly hours with you?” He complained, the whine evident in the tone of his voice. He was displeased to say the least; he just wanted to spend one evening with Elladan; was that too much to ask?

“Would it be considered rude if we just skipped the party?”

...

“How impatient you are!”  Elladan teased against his ear, brushing a kiss just above his temple.  How ironic, given that he was truly no better– and Kili had the excuse of being mortal!  “You’ll have me all to yourself tonight after the reveling, though I think we may be too tired to do anything but sleep.”

Waking up together had been a luxury denied to them before; something soft and sweet, and made impossible by their situation.  But they’d endured, and Elladan had left the lands of his people to be with Kili.  All that mattered was that they were both here now.  In a place they’d made for themselves.  

And if the other Dwarves made trouble over it?  Well, Elladan wasn’t going to let himself be scared away!

“If skip the party tonight, your uncle is going to blame me.  And then we’ll have to convince him to forgive us, before he’ll give blessing over our marriage.”  Elladan’s arms tightened around him briefly, his voice lilted with amusement, “Go, dress.  I’ll rescue your brother from my twin– or Elrohir from your brother, I’m never entirely certain with them.”

“Your people need their prince tonight; you bring them hope for their hard won future.  I am yours now, and I shall still be yours tonight.  And for all the rest of the days of our lives… But I know I must share you with your people.  So give me a kiss to fortify myself– and I’ll be with you again shortly!”

...

Marriage.

Even if he knew that would one day be their future, the thought of it still sent the prince’s heart racing. Courting would be the first step towards marriage after they’d receive the blessing from both of their kings and he felt elated at the knowledge nothing could stand between them anymore.

The war had been fought and won.

Now they could focus on themselves.

“I’ll be waiting to see you at the feast then,” Kili sighed regretfully as he bent down and pressed a light yet meaningful kiss on Elladan’s lips. “I’ll be the handsome prince next to the king under the mountain,” he added with a laugh and flashing the elven prince a last grin, he left their chambers.

Yet he could not shake the thought of Elladan from his mind; not when the tailors bustled around him trying out different shades of blue against his skin, not when he was covered with the rich blue and silver and when he placed the silver circled on top of his head. 

All he could think about was Elladan beside him.

The pleasant thoughts disappeared and the weight of the circlet turned heavy the moment he was lead into the Great Hall and hundreds of dwarves began cheering. These people looked up to him and his family for guidance; he was in charge of their lives, their happiness. He had gone from a small-town dwarf to a prince and the change suddenly hit him like a pack of wargs.

The cheering and singing was almost deafening by the time he took his seat next to Thorin, Fili already seated on their uncle’s right side. 

Desperate for something to ground him, Kili grabbed a hold of the goblet in front of him and began searching the hall with his gaze for his own prince.

#murkhith

[parismemes]

SENTENCE STARTERS FROM THE BEST OF SMPLIVE (PART 4)

“never have i ever turned down an opportunity to suck the shit out of a dick.” “if you give me 30 bucks i’ll kick his ass.” “what if we make a giant teepee?” “lemme just enjoy my din-din.” “would you like a cronchy bite of our salad?” “we’re very against cults, and we’re not a cover-up scheme.” “i wasn’t scared, dude. i was kind of excited to kick your ass.” “you spelled receptionist with an s instead of a c.” “what’s the president that died super fast?” “dang, you’re on the president’s first-name basis? that’s crazy.” “god, your bowlcut sucks! get a better haircut!” “i’m gonna cook your child!” “i’ve been waiting for this moment for so long.” “i feel like this calls for like a speech or something.” “yo, the cops are after me. in real life.” “do i have friends? yeah, like three. i’m popular.” “once nature’s in 1080p, then we’ll talk.” “i’ve never seen anything that gross in my entire life.” “the value only goes up, i’ll tell ‘ya that much.” “who is this clown on my property?” “tell me how a stonecutter works! you know what, actually, i’m gonna go shit.” “i was pulling up patriotic music!” “how quickly do you shit?” “did you know roughly 6 percent of people?” “CLEARLY you don’t understand what makes entertainment.” “i am attempting to enjoy myself, but apparently that is the antithesis of all your values.” “don’t be disrespectful, i’m a dad.” “i would very much appreciate it if you just left forever.” “i just wanted to play minecraft.” “I GOT PAID FOR THIS, YOU CAN’T STOP IT!” “oh, i KNOW him, he’s very not smart.” “what are you, a rabbit?” “what are you doing in my nicely furnished basement?” “my name’s, uh.. my name’s-- oh shit.” “what part of destruction of property is funny to you?” “my friend can kill a wolf with a mop.” “i don’t think i would let you near wolves after what you did to my TV.” “you curse a lot for a little kid, buddy.” “why do we always go to these dark, dark places?” “if you’re gonna stop destroying my property, i think you’ll be welcome here.” “wait, you have a podcast?” “i just wanna see his brain waves.” “so you’re saying i’m dead for 5 minutes and then i come back to life?” “did you guys know i know how to do the rap god in eminem?” “it’s like a nervous system!” “that’s garfield.” “i’m doing this voice so i sound intimidating. i’m not from the south at all.” “why am i getting killed now?” “they lit a fucking horse on fire.” “THE HOUNDS CAME THROUGH!” “i wanna hide but i dunno where to go.” “i’m gonna buy a new house with 200 dollars.” “4+6=468. you get it.” “you guys are troglodytes!” “can i milk a cow first, please?” “i feel like i’m just being led to my death. i don’t wanna die.” “imagine cheating in minecraft!” “once i eat this carrot in 5 years, i will be so pissed, dude!” “what kinda mouse and keyboard i got? game of thrones!” “you got your clown nose on? you got your clown shoes?” “pop open a nice can of this BUSSY.” “please don’t fucking call me door boy.” “if i met you in person i would not kill you.” “eat pant.” “fuck you. fuck you. FUCK YOU. FUCK YOU!” “i’m kissing your dad! he’s mine now! i’m your mom!” “i must submerge.” “i do have to kill one of you two.” “can we have a funnier meme than this, dude?” “the sun rises, hot dog lady!” “just stop getting your ass beat.” “this is the most expensive bullying i’ve ever seen in my life.” “i am not against fisting you to death.” “every time someone yells at me i say XBOX OFF!” “it’s illegal, not banned. wink wink.” “i gave you 10 dollars earlier! stop!” “we have to hold hands through this experience.” “let’s frolick through this forest and find us a fucking panda.” “i may spill some of my tea for the low low price of 200 dollars.” “i want to ask him to duel.”

#rp memes #ask memes #rp meme #ask meme #rp prompts #sentence starters

[pan-crow]

Alright everyone; This is a little world I like to call “They Sleep Here” Ominous name I know. Theres no reason for it, its just what I called it at the time. This world was built in both survival and creative depending on how I was feeling during the day.

As you can see theres a lot to get through, so I think we’ll start with the main house and garden first.

This is the garden. Its pretty basic. We have just about any plant needed for the most part in terms of food, dye, and other needs. Wheat and carrots are grown for the sheep, pigs, and cow down in the lowered area there until I build them a better spot.  Next to the gardens and meat area, we also have a little temporary horse home (currently occupied by Constantine) to keep whatever horse I’m using at the time from wandering off the side of the mountain.

This is the front of my house. I must say its not to shabby for the first house I’ve built on my own. I thought about eventually adding a nice little upper outside area to it but I just haven’t gotten around to doing so. Its small inside, but cozy. Two floors exactly.

Here we have the downstairs. A chest, crafting, smelting, and cooking area all in one residing mostly under the stairs. The stairs themselves have railings so I don’t go falling off them. It was originally the area where all my wolves were but now its only a spot for Zacharias to be as hes the only wolf allowed in the house since he was my first. 

The upstairs isn’t actually a full floor, but rather a small loft area. Its cozy and holds two chests with my personal ‘important things’ I’d use for crafting or trading at the nearby villages. Its also where I keep Lexi and Asogi, two of four cats I own. I originally had a purple bed but it became cursed so now I have a blue one.

Behind my house is a self built cave that leads into a ravine but also leads into my underground portal room. Actually this room is right under my stables, which is why I’m unable to change the dirt on the roof unless I want the stables to look funky above. Lucky for me the portal leads right next to two different fortress >:3c Nothing flashy, but fun!

Much deeper underground we have my enchantment area that takes space right next to my house actually. These photos show the entrance as well as two different angles of the area itself to better see that its entirely books. The floor is also books. Its all books. This also happens to be where Edgeworth my third of four cats is. He put himself down there I didn’t ask him to follow.

Going outside we have the Dog House. Yes it looks weird. Yes its unreasonably large for only a few dogs. Yes I love my dogs and spoiled the hell out of them with this house. 

The first floor is where water bowls are. Its also where I currently have Larry and Storyteller sitting. Storyteller was originally in the barn but for some reason he teleported here so its where he is now.

This is the second floor. Currently being guarded by Espella and Eve in a slightly smaller house within the dog house. Again, spoiled.

And up here we have only Valant and a pretty empty room until I figure out what to do with it. I think I’m just going to go out and get more wolves and put them all up here to watch over the whole land like the good guard dogs they are.

This is the bird sanctuary. Home to five parrots and one rabbit. The birds are Polly, Phoenix, Gumshoe, Layton and Luke. The rabbit is Descole. Descole isn’t actually supposed to be in there he just kinda got stuck in there by accident and I kept him.

Heres the inside from one angle. This angle best shows their nice little tree they have to perch in as well as their little pond. Don’t worry I haven’t lost a single bird to the water. 

Heres the second angle from the side with the tree. Actually fun fact all five of the parrots are wild parrots who’ve been name tagged so they can fly around in here without them accidentally teleporting to me. Thats really the only reason why they all have names.

And here we have the free range horse home. A large fenced off area for a few horses that I happened to have gathered as I’ve played. The horse in the armor over there is Cisco. He rightfully earned that armor after getting myself and Justice, another horse I own, out of a bad Pillager situation. 

Within this fenced area we have a nice little hut kinda thing for my horses to go on and hide in when the weather isn’t great. Not that they ever actually use it, its the thought that counts.

Moving on we have the barn away from the fenced off area. The barn is where I keep horses I use frequently or would rather not loose any time soon, as well as a place I keep my chicken.

This is the bottom floor. The dark brown horse is Justice, a horse I first tamed when coming into the world. He has ridiculous health and speed, he also likes to run away. I also have Harry the skeleton horse, Gramarye the donkey, and Jove the speckled brown who is also very speedy but not good in health. 

Climbing the later in Gramarye’s area, we head up to the chicken spot. I always like the idea of the chicken having a safe cozy place of their own, and thats what this is! Its not only roomy but it also have a nice little hut in case they want to hide as well as wheat for later seeds. 

And last but not least we have the inside of the chicken hut. As you’ve noticed, this is where Barok the black cat likes to stay. I don’t actually know when or how he got up here but its where he is and I haven’t moved him. Hes the fourth cat in my little crew, and likes to look at the floor.  And thats my little Minecraft area so far! I’d like to do more with it but the PS4 has a limit on animals I can have at a time so I don’t know if I’ll be adding a turtle area or anything any time soon. But !!!! very exciting and fun for a world I’ve done everything all on my own on qvq.

#Chats and Talks #Minecraft

[furuba-imagines]

A Glimmer of Hope [1]

A/N: I shall be posting requests over the weekend. I started writing this story around 2016 (it’s on my quotev and FanFiction.Net) but bc of the rebooted anime I decided to reboot my own story as well the new anime’s honour :3

Word Count: 2706

Warnings: Swearing, mentions of sad character past, mentions of family abuse. Crappy format bc it was posted on mobile app. I’ll fix it up later. For now, enjoy!!

Pairing: Eventual Kyo x Oc

Story Notes:

Bold text is Amélie’s thoughts and inner dialogue.

Italicised text is when Amélie is narrating bits of the story like Tohru does in the anime as well as flashbacks (I will let you know what’s a flashback and what’s not though)

ONE - ENCOUNTERS

Amélie smiled to herself as she breathed in the fresh morning air. She marvelled at how beautiful and blue the sky was and how the white fluffy clouds looked as if they were painted in gentle strokes.

'Oooh yeah, that sun feels so warm.'

The sun shone bright, warming up her pale skin, erasing the goose bumps that littered her exposed arms. Turning back to the small black tent that she currently called home, her lip twitched and formed into a forlorn smile as she looked at the photograph sitting atop a folded pile of clothes in a simple brown wooden picture frame. It was a picture of her when she was six, posing with her mum and dad. Everything was so happy and bright back then... but a dark storm washed all that happiness away and she hasn't really felt it since. Despite the accident that befell them happening so long ago, it still got to her. It still haunted her dreams at night and plagued her thoughts during daylight. She wished she could just stop feeling – it would make things so much easier.

With a heavy sigh, Amélie grabbed her school bag and guitar and secured them both around her back and shoulder respectively. She cast one last glance at the picture before zipping up the tent and making sure it was secure, not that she was worried about anyone breaking in. Not many people passed by this area.

'See you guys soon. I love you.'

Even so, she didn't keep her more valuable belongings in the tent, like her piano keyboard. She kept that safely locked up in the school music room. Normally, she'd leave her guitar there too but she wanted to work on the new song she was writing. But she never kept both instruments in the tent at the same time in case something did happen. She didn't want to risk it no matter how small the chance. A part from the picture, her guitar and piano were the only things she had left of her parents. They were both musicians – her mum sang and wrote and her dad played. Music was one of the only things she still found happiness in. She hoped that one day her music would be played across the world for people to enjoy.

Amélie tugged at her uniform, wishing she had a mirror to check herself with. Amélie was never very fond of the girl's uniform so she wore the boy's one instead. She traded in her skirt and blouse for the pants and collared shirt and paired it with her own plain black Doc Martin's. She felt more comfortable in them than the lace up shoes the school provided. The school faculty stopped carding her after the first two weeks she refused to change. She also liked the fact that she didn't have to worry about boys trying to sneak-a-peak up her skirt. The last boy who tried walked away with a swollen cheek, bruised eye and busted lip. She stood by her actions however.

'The little shit deserved it. He had it coming if you ask me.'

Amélie hadn't always lived in a tent. After the death of her parents, her French side of her family were given custody over her but she wouldn't really call them family. The first thing they did was disown her, cast her out and hand her over to the state orphanage as soon as they could. She ended up living there until she was thirteen after her Japanese side of the family finding out about her and adopting her. Amélie would've preferred to stay at the orphanage since they were more of a family than her actual relatives. By the age of sixteen she had endured enough of their abuse and torment and ran away. She ended up staying at both her friends, Uotani and Hanajima's place for a while upon their insistence but the guilt became too much so she lied about having found good accommodation. In reality, she kept moving from hotel to hotel until she was forced to live in the tent she was living in currently. A glamorous life she liked to sarcastically call it, but she was grateful at least that she wasn't living on the sidewalks or under a bridge somewhere.

"Il ya toujours un arc en ciel après la tempéte!" She quoted to herself. There's always a rainbow after a storm. It was something her mother used to quote quite often.

The forest that she walked through she found to be quite calming and beautiful with all the tall trees and lush greenery. With that being said, feeling a little adventurous this morning and wanting to delay school as much as she could, she decided to take a different route. The more she drifted away from her usual path, the more the forest became increasingly unfamiliar until she had no idea where she was going.

"Fuck sakes," She cursed. 'Why would you even try straying from the main path with your horrible sense of direction? I'm such an idiot sometimes.'

However, much to her surprise, something in the peripherals of her vision captured her attention and halting her steps. To her far right, down a hill was a large clearing that lead to a traditional Japanese looking house. Amélie should've known that a forest as beautiful as this one had to have some kind of estate built upon it. With her curiosity piqued to the max, she couldn't help herself and decided to investigate.

‘A little snooping wouldn't hurt anybody.'

"It's called trespassing Amélie and its illegal," she reminded herself but proceeded to ignore her own warning.

Amélie was careful as she made her way down the hill. Hiding behind a bush, she did a quick look around to make sure the coast was clear before approaching the house.

'At least they don't have to worry about annoying neighbours. Must be nice to live here.'

Coming up close to the porch, Amélie couldn't help but be drawn to little ornaments sitting on a wooden rack. Upon closer inspection, she recognised them as the twelve animals of the Chinese zodiac. She smiled to herself.

"They look so well made and detailed. I wonder how long it took to paint them all..."

"Hello, this is a surprise. We don't get many young girls wondering around these parts."

Amélie bristled at the sudden voice and stumbled backwards, almost falling flat on her ass.

'Shit, shit! You've done fucked up now! Run before he calls the cops on you for trespassing! On second thought... he doesn't look too mad. Just play it cool and maybe you can leave without getting into any trouble.'

"I'm so sorry sir! I was just admiring I swear! I'm not here to cause you any trouble." She barely managed to string her words together without fumbling over them.

The man just chuckled and waved a hand at her. "It's quite alright, no harm done." The man's smile turned pensive. "I just find it hard to imagine that a teenager like yourself would find this place interesting." He mused.

'Oh thank goodness, I'm not in trouble.'

Amélie was quick to shake her head as she knelt in front of the rack, the man following suit. "No, it's a very lovely place. And I especially love these little zodiac ornaments here. Did you make them?" She asked.

"Yes I did. They're a favourite of mine too you could say."

Amélie scanned every rock that had been painted with detail and precision but a frown soon formed on her face when she noticed something missing.

"Of course you left out the cat just like everyone else." She muttered. It was more to herself than to the man in front of her although she realised she must've spoken too loud because of his surprised expression.

"The cat? Oh right, I see. You're referring to the old zodiac folktale." He said in realisation and Amélie nodded.

"I used to get dad to tell me the story sometimes before bed. I've always thought the cat had just as much importance to the story as any of the other animals did. I always felt for him."

_____________________

>>>Flashback<<<

_____________________

Little Amélie laid in her bed all snuggled and tucked beneath her plush blankets.

"Goodnight princess," Mr. Hoshimi smiled down at his daughter and placed a gentle kiss to her forehead. As soon as he stood up to leave though, Amélie grabbed onto the sleeve of his shirt and tugged on it.

"Wait! Can you tell me that story about the animals again? Pwease?" She pouted, putting on her best puppy dog eyes. The elder man quickly fell for her doe eyes and hopeful smile and found himself smiling along with her.

"Oh wow could I ever say no to that cute face?" he cooed, sitting back down onto the bed.

"A long, long time ago, god decided to invite all of the animals to a glorious banquet. He sent out word for all of them to come to his house the following evening and he told them not to be late.

"Can you name all the animals Amélie?"

Amélie sat up straight and proudly listed all the animals – The dog and the dragon, the rabbit and tiger, the rat and the pig, the cow and horse, the sheep and the rooster, the monkey, the snake... "And my favourite, the cat!" She cheered.

Mr. Hoshimi just laughed and tucked Amélie back underneath the sheets and continued with the story.

"However, when the mischievous rat heard the news, he decided to play a trick on his fellow neighbour – the cat. He told the cat that the party was the day after tomorrow."

Amélie turned her nose up and scowled. "I hate this part," She grumbled with a huff. "The poor kitty cat deserves better..."

"The very next day, all of the animals lined up for the celebrations with the rat leading the way, riding all the way on the back of the cow. Everyone had a wonderful time, except for the foolish cat who missed the whole thing." Mr. Hoshimi finished.

When he looked down at his daughter, he chuckled at her grumpy pout and furrowed brows.

"Amélie honey, why so grumpy?" He asked, but he knew why. She always got mad at the rat for tricking the cat, even though it was only just a story, Amélie had vowed to be the protector of all cats.

"Because the rat was so mean! If I was the cat, I would've kicked the rats butt for being such a... well, a butt!" She exclaimed, balling her hands into tiny fists.

"And if mummy heard you talk like that, she'd have yours."

Amelie giggled sheepishly before a thought popped into her head. "Do you think the cat would like it if I started a year of the cat?!"

Mr. Hoshimi just smiled. "I'm sure he would love that honey."

_______________________

>>> End of Flashback <<<

_______________________

The kimono wearing man smirked and tapped his fingers against his chin in thought. "Funny, I wonder how he would feel after hearing that story, knowing he has a little fan."

Snapping out of her reverie, she looked at him with a confused tilt of her head. "I'm sorry, who?"

The man shook his head and part of her wondered if she was actually meant to hear what he had said or not.

"Oh nevermind. So, what year were you born in?" He asked, quickly distracting her by changing the subject and Amélie went along with it.

"Year of the Ox," she replied.

The man nodded but Amélie noticed his eyes drift to her uniform. Most people found it odd that she wore the boy's uniform so she was used to it by now. She was about to speak, but he beat her to it.

"I apologise, I don't mean to stare. I've just never seen a girl wear the boy's uniform before. I must say though, you pull it off quite well."

Amélie's cheeks flushed at the compliment. She was the worst when it came to accepting flattery and compliments.

"Thank you."

"You're not from around her are you?" He asked suddenly in a curious tone.

Amélie had been waiting for that question. Something she was often asked about also.

"It's my accent isn't it?" She supplied with a smirk.

'I'm glad it isn't too thick for people to understand me.'

"It is quite nice to listen to. I mean, aside from your pretty fa-"

Whatever the man was going to say next came to an abrupt stop and was replaced with a pained gasp as something landed on his head. It was a schoolbag, just like the one Amélie and most other high school students had.

'Oh shoot, did not expect that.'

"My head!"

"Will you at least try to control yourself?" A new voice sighed.

Amélie's eyes trailed up the person's arm that held the bag until she reached their face and her eyes widen in shock.

'No way, Yuki lives here?! If I get caught with him, that stupid fan club of his won't let me hear the end of it.'

Yuki turned his attention away from the man to Amélie. "Good morning Miss Hoshimi, I'm sorry for my cousin. He's bit of a flirt but's he's harmless. It's best to just ignore him."

"Oh no, it's alright. We were just talking is all; he's good company."

The man, Yuki's cousin, rubbed the sore spot on his head. "What do you have in there? A dictionary or something?"

Yuki barely batted an eyelash at his whining. "Two dictionaries actually," he sighed in exasperation as he slid the schoolbag onto his back, adjusting the straps so it fit comfortably on his shoulders.

Yuki's cousin rubbed his head one last time. "So, you two know each other?" He asked, pointing between the two of them.

"Miss Hoshimi and I are in the same class."

Amélie dipped her head in a respectful bow. "The name's Amélie, pleasure to meet you." She officially greeted.

"Same here. I'm Shigure Sohma and Yuki here is my little cousin." He explained with a friendly smile.

"And what brings you to our house this morning?" Yuki asked in his usual soft and polite voice.

Amélie offered them a nervous smile, rubbing the back of her neck. 'I can't exactly tell them that I live in the middle of the forest. They'll probably laugh at me. I need to think of something good to say and fast!'

"Oh uh, well you know, I live... nearby." She trailed off lamely. It wasn't a complete lie.

'Oh yeah, that's such a good cover up.'

She gulped when she noticed their stunned expressions and wished they would change the subject. She didn't do well under pressure.

"Around here? Really?"

"You do? Where?" Yuki pressed. Amélie was hyperaware of how clammy the palms of her hands were becoming.

'Abort! Abort!'

"I don't mean to be rude but I should probably head to school. I haven't been late in a while and I wanted to keep my record clean this semester."

'As if they cared or needed to know that last bit.'

She bowed to them once again. "It was nice chatting with you. Have a good day." She said in a hurry, quickly turning on her heel and walking away.

'Don't look back. Just keep walking...'

"Miss Hoshimi?" Yuki called out after her.

Amélie sighed inwardly. 'Dammit.'

Putting on a smile, she turned to face him. "Yeah?"

"Since you're here, why don't we walk to school together?" He suggested.

'Say no. It's not worth the wrath of the fan club.'

"Sure, I don't see why not?" She accepted with a forced smile.

The entire walk was done so in an awkward silence as neither Yuki nor Amélie spoke a word or even looked at each other. And to make matters worse, they did eventually run into the Prince Yuki Fan Club, prompting both teens to ignore their chants and poses which only made it all the more awkward until they parted their separated ways.

'I better prepare myself for their onslaught of pathetic questioning.'

Amélie groaned. She could feel the headache coming on already...

#fruits basket 2019 #fruits basket #furuba #kyo sohma #Kyo Sohma x reader #Kyo Sohma imagines #Furuba imagines #Fruits basket imagines #Kyo Sohma x oc

[twilight-alchemist]

Racing Along the Event Horizon

Ao3 link: x

Chapter 1: Chasing Life and Running From Death

Summary:  Shiro is selected to be a rider in a race where the only way to survive is to win. The arena is cruel, but Shrio isn’t fighting alone this time.

warnings for violence, blood, gore, and minor character death

The roar of the arena should have been deafening, but instead it sounds far away as if underwater. Shiro’s heartbeat flutters loudly in his ears as adrenaline burns through him like acid. Every time back in this godforsaken place feels just as maddening as the first time. The beast under him senses his distress and shudders, dancing sideways and shaking her head. Her name is Singularity, and she’s as terrifying as she is beautiful. The closest thing Shiro could think to compare her to is a horse. She’s tall and proud, with narrow pointed ears and a long face. The similarities faded from there. She was clearly a predator, mouthful of sharp teeth and four milky white eyes facing forward. She has six long legs, two in the front and four in the rear, all tipped with thick pads and long claws. She’s so dark that she stands out even in shadows, her hide marbled in a way that sometimes caught the light like gasoline on the surface of a puddle. Her powerful tail lashes with enough force to knock over one of the crowd foolish enough to get too close. She raises her head and screeches loud and horrible. It should make Shiro wince, but he’s grown fond of that screech in the past months. Singularity turns her head back to look at him, snorting when he cracks a weak smile for her. Shiro sometimes wondered what kind of place she had come from. Was she raised in captivity, never knowing better than this, or was she torn from her world like he was?

She pulls Shiro forward and out of his thoughts, eager to run, barely contained by his hands on the reins. Shiro adjusts his grip and tightens his hold on the whip, ignoring the sweat running down his face. He needs to focus. They’ve trained too much and come too far just to die here. They need to win. They need to win because losers did not survive what happens next.

Shiro eyes up the competition. The riders are a motley crew of prisoners and gladiators, handpicked by their commanders. They are riding other aliens like Singularity. He’s heard the Galra in the stables call them ‘gexyl’. They’re fairly cooperative for toothy beasts the size of draft horses and a resemblance to a greyhound from hell. Or, for the most part at least, he thinks as he watches one of the gexyl roughly throw its rider to the ground and run from its handlers.

He pats Singularity’s shoulder reassuringly and she settles her steps. She’s still breathing hard, excited and overwhelmed, just as new to this race as Shiro is. A loud voice calls over the din and drones on about tradition, honor, and bravery. From what Shiro understands, this was just a way for the commanders to show off their wealth and power. Shiro had learned this when he was made to watch recordings of previous races. He was supposed to learn winning strategies, but he found himself trying to understand why this race was held at all. He gleaned that originally the race was created so commanders and their lackeys could squabble out their rivalries in a way that didn’t create civil wars, but it had long ago become something corrupt and fanatic. Soldiers blindly loyal to their commander’s viewed the race as a matter of honor. They placed their manic faith in the riders. Losing riders were traitors and deserved to be destroyed. The crowd would fall on them like rabid dogs and tear them apart. The winner received an almost god like status. Some factions had rivalries so bitter they would rather prevent their enemy from winning rather than attempt to win themselves. It became so convoluted that bribes and favors were just as important as fast gexyl and skilled riders.

Shiro knows there are bets placed against him, riders that have been paid off to keep him from winning. He also knows that he has tentative allies among the other riders, paid off to let him by. Keeping track of whether a friend or foe is at his side will be one part of many to focus on to win this race. Sendak had spared no expense protecting his fierce reputation. Shiro doesn’t trust even supposed allies in this battle; every rider wants to live through this just as much as he does. The only way to do that is to win, or prevent a rival from winning. But Sendak isn’t like the other commanders; being the best means he has no rivals to spite. Shiro has Sendak’s crest emblazoned bright on the jacket he’d been given. He belongs to the commander just as much as Singularity does. Winning is the only option.

Shiro startles when the announcer shouts his name. He urges Singularity forward to the startling line. She snaps at the silver gexyl pressed next to her and kicks out, Shiro straining to keep her calm and still. Sin’s always been spirited, but she’s fast, and she’s smart. They can win. They have to win. The noise of the crowd has risen to a fever pitch, many voices morphing into one great roar for blood. Shiro fights down the urge to scream. He remembers fights where his opponent’s terrified rabbit hearts had failed them just moments into the arena. They just crumpled. Shiro considered it a blessing of sorts; he didn’t have to maim them, and it was a quick death. Shiro long ago proved himself to be lionhearted, but weather it’s a blessing or a curse Shiro has yet to decide. “Victory or death! Vrepit sa!” the announcer bellows. The crowd chants it back in terrifying unity.

Shiro’s shaking hard, but his hands stay steady on the reins. Sin skitters on her feet, impatient to run, and nervous for Shiro. She doesn’t understand the stakes. She has no idea why her rider is about to damn near lose his mind out of fear. She makes a rumbling sound, something Shiro has learned is supposed to be soothing. Shiro mumbles back to her, false promises and soft words.

Another rider pushes next to them at the starting line. Their white gexyl throws its head wildly, eyes rolling with fear. Sin pins her ears back, not happy with the press of bodies against her on both sides. She lashes out with her tail, striking the white gexyl and hissing. The gexyl is cowed into some complacency, trembling in place. The rider growls and elbows Shiro hard in the ribs but he barely budges, hard earned muscle holding him steadily in place. Shiro lashes out in return with his sharp-tipped whip and the other rider backs off with a curse. He’d nicked their jaw and the blood is already welling up. The white gexyl hisses and spits as it struggles against reins held far too tight.

There is only one rule in this race: the first gexyl across the finish line wins. Playing dirty is not only allowed but encouraged. They all received short stiff whips with a small jagged metal end. Not enough to kill, but enough to hurt like a bitch. He eyes the rider on his left, daring them to try anymore funny business. They pointedly avoid eye contact. He knows the eight armed rider on his right has been paid off to ignore him, but he can’t allow himself to drop his guard. The arena has at least prepared him for this; he’s used to watching his blind spots. He pulls in deep breaths to fake calm, mumbling soothing words to Singularity that she flickers her ears back to listen to.

All too fast, there’s a deafening bang, and the starting gate drops. Singularity surges forward like a tidal wave and Shiro is right there with her. Months ago a start like that would have left him in the dirt, Sin running merrily forward without him. They’ve come a long way since then. Shiro shouts to encourage her faster. He can feel her hearts beating rapidly under him, her chest expanding as she breathes, her feet digging deep into the dirt and pushing her forward. He reaches his hands up along her neck to let her have her head free and really move. He’s learned that it’s not about fighting her for control, but letting her run and guiding her steadily through the treacherous parts. The riders that hadn’t learned that yet were either going to learn fast or end up crushed in the dirt.

The racing track that has been set up in the arena is crude and dangerous. There are sharp turns and inclines, bottlenecks and curved walls all meant to make riders and gexyls alike fall. A fall itself is potentially survivable, but being trampled isn’t, and if the crowd gets to you you’re done. Shiro has no saddle to speak of, nothing to hold onto except the reins and Sin’s smooth hide. They’re near the front of the pack around the first turn, Singularity adjusting beautifully under Shiro’s guidance. There’s a scream behind them as a gexyl takes the turn too fast, too close, slipping and smashing into the corner. It goes down in a flail of limbs, it’s rider lost beneath a stampede of sharp feet. Shiro’s distraction costs him when another rider pushes in front of him and cracks their whips across his face. Blinding white pain arches through him and Singularity falters. Shiro urges her forward and she pushes hard at the gexyl in front of her. At the same time Shiro lashes out with his own whip, cracking the alien across its long hands. It nearly drops the reins and Shiro pushes his advantage, breaking past them and skidding around the next corner. Shiro doesn’t react this time when he hears someone hit the wall with a sickening thud.

Singularity flies down the straightway, and Shiro would enjoy the rush from their combined speed and ferocity if not for the dire situation. They nearly catch up to the leader just as they reach the bottleneck. Shiro is grateful he broke away from the pack before this, because two rider-less gexyl’s come up behind them, mouths foaming and eyes terrified as they keep plowing forward. They only seem to spur Sin faster as she pulls away from them towards the team in the lead. She’s coming into her element, head and tail lifted high as her confidence builds. Shiro spares a moment of focus to rub his hands up her neck

Shiro wants to live so intensely he feels like he’s been ignited and he’s burning from the inside out. They have to catch up. They take the next turn with only inches to spare form the brutally sharp metal edge of the corner. They complete the first lap and are closing in on the leader. Their gexyl is fast, but Shiro knows Sin is faster. They draw closer and closer, and once Shiro can make out the soft pattern of faint stripes on its hide he makes his move.

Shiro urges Singualirty on and brings down the flat of the whip on her flank. She leaps forward and Shiro reaches out, catching his whip with a harsh crack against the sensitive back of the leading gexyl’s legs. It stumbles just enough for Shiro to maneuver Singularity next to it. They both barely make the next corner, too busy trying to get past each other. Shiro lifts his arm to protect his face from the sharp bite of his opponent’s whip, ignoring the pain to strike their gexyl’s vulnerable face. The creature backs off with a flash of sharp teeth and a screech of distress. As much as Shiro hates it, it strategically it makes more sense to attack the gexyl. They are the one running, not the rider, and slowing them down means gaining ground. Shiro hopes the other riders will keep viewing him as the target instead of Sin.

Shiro digs his legs into Singularity’s sides but he doesn’t need to. Singularity is finally in the front, just where she wanted to be. She lengthens her stride, head held high with confidence. They hardly lose any speed on the next corner. Shiro can hear someone coming up behind him, and he glances back. The pack has thinned, several rider-less gexyl testaments to riders lost. There are less of the gexyl’s too, and Shiro hopes they had swift deaths rather than what awaits them if they survive. Swift deaths, however, is always too much of a mercy to ask for in the arena. The previous leader is just behind him, eyes desperate as they lash their gexyl with the whip mercilessly. Shiro shudders. This is another gladiator like him, someone who just wants to fucking survive in this hellhole, and he’s going to take that from them. Shiro urges Singularity forward and she rumbles happily. She’s always loved running at breakneck speed. Maybe a bit too much. He has to pull her back around the corner when she’s a hairsbreadth away from slamming them into the wall in her eagerness.

The striped gexyl comes up beside them, mouth foaming and eyes wild. Shiro gasps when it shoves hard against Sin. She jolts left and hits the wall hard, screaming and stumbling. Shiro screams with her, his leg burning with pain. Sin lashes out at the offending gexyl, kicking out and screeching her fury. The rider’s whips comes down and tears a wound across Singularity’s chest. She falters just Shiro cracks the whip into the eyes of the rider. The glara half breed shouts and falls back, grabbing at their bloodied face and unintentionally pulling back their gexyl. They lash out blindly, desperate, and their whip catches Shiro’s cheek and tears across his nose. It burns like hell and Shiro can only curl forward and curse. Sin gets her legs under her again and runs, Shiro praising her mindlessly through the pain. Adrenaline is a familiar and fleeting pain relief as he forces himself to uncurl and focus. He glances back just in time to see another rider come up and drag the half breed off their gexyl. They slip around the corner before Shiro can see what happens. Shiro long ago lost count of all the deaths he’d contributed to in this arena, but every time it happens he feels like he loses another piece of himself to this godless place.

Shiro realizes there is just one more corner and they are home free. Hope swells in his chest, fluttering and desperate. What he doesn’t expect to see around the corner are audience members on the track. He’s never seen audience members jump down into the arena. They’re going after a bloody rider who’s attempting to scramble away from the malice in their grasping hands. Their gexyl lies in the middle of the narrow track, struggling to get up off the ground. From the broken angle of its front leg, it won’t be getting up anytime soon. The crowd scatters with shouts and curses as Sin plows ahead. Shiro only has moments to realize they are going to crash into the downed gexyl when he signals Singularity to jump. She clearly had the same idea, her legs already bunched under her. She leaps over it and for a moment Shiro feels weightless. It’s a feeling he’d almost forgotten, the Kerberos mission feeling like a lifetime ago. Singularity lands and nearly jolts Shiro off her back. His injured leg and now bruised crotch complain loudly but Shiro hardly notices because he can see the finish line. He holds on and urges her forward.

Singularity lifts her head high and flies over the finish like the wind itself, Shiro just a stubborn burr attached to her back. The arena explodes with noise and Shiro’s ears ring as they are surrounded by galra. They seem to pour in from all sides. Shiro recognizes their colors as Sendak’s troops. They grab at him and Singularity with reverence. It’s almost like they expect to receive a blessing upon contact. The pressing crowd is unusually quiet and it’s making the hairs on Shiro’s neck stand up. They murmur as they reach out, Shiro flinching away from every gentle touch. Gentle isn’t something he’s ever associated with the galra. He’s learned to understand their cruelty, but this doesn’t make sense. He looks up, searching for something to help him understand. Shiro can see his own face plastered on the big screens. He looks wild and unfamiliar, the blood on his face like a violent mask. The words they are saying finally filter through the battered translator. “Champions” they murmur. “Champions.”

It seems like ages before sentries clear a path through the crowd. Shiro has no choice but to follow their path. He guides Singularity up onto a raised dais in the center of the arena. A force field closes over it behind them, filtering everything purple. They are both bleeding and exhausted, but they are alive. Shiro lets out a shuddering sigh. Sin snorts her agreement.

Shiro looks up and sees Sendak and Haxus displayed on the screens with big blocky text. He can’t read galran, but he assumes it is proclaiming Sendak the winner. Haxus is grinning like a cat that got the canary, while Sendak looks nearly bored with the situation. An unfamiliar siren goes off and the spell over the galra breaks. They abandon the arena to return to the stands like a receding tide.

The announcer starts winding the audience back up into a froth as the arena shifts back to its familiar open oval shape. Gexyls run about in a panic, injured riders not doing much better. Some scrape themselves off the ground, battered and bloody from the race and the crowd. Those who didn’t survive lay cooling in the dirt. The gexyl’s too injured to get up cry out for help that won’t come. Shiro wishes someone would just put a blaster to their heads and end their suffering. The screen changes to show the other commanders. They all look to be in bad moods, no doubt not pleased to be the losers. They all have a variant of two hand signals that Shiro has learned means yes or no. There is only one yes. One rider is plucked from the arena by the sentries. The rest, at least a dozen, and the gexyl remain.

Shiro shakes, because he knows what’s going to happen. Haxus had let it slip one night, intoxicated and in a cheery mood for once. He’d stopped by Shiro’s cell to give him what looked like a takeout box of food. He held it aloft like a carrot on a stick.

“Champion, you better win this race for me.” He hummed. “I got you the best gexyl, and now you need to deliver. I want to win my bets.” Shiro kept his mouth shut, because he wanted that food and knows Haxus is temperamental. Haxus noticed his reluctance and frowned. “It’s a great honor to participate in the Race. It only happens once every ventok. This isn’t like the silly races at the resorts.” He adds. Shiro maintains staring at his feet.

“Here’s some incentive.” He sighs. “Riders aren’t supposed to know… but there’s hardly any rules to this anyway. You know there’s a fight after, the truth is that it’s a slaughter. If you lose, both you and your precious pet get eaten alive by a monster. So don’t lose.” Haxus had slipped the food into the cell and left, leaving Shiro to alone to ruminate on his impending demise. His fear hadn’t stopped him from scarfing down the cold noodles. Fear for his life was horribly normal at this point. Decent food was not.

Shiro still doesn’t know exactly what this monster is, but he has the sinking feeling he’s about to find out. The huge doors at the end of the arena open, and a blood curdling scream shatters the constant hum of noise over the arena. Shiro yells as the sound digs into him, lifting his hands to cover his ears. Sin screams in fear and jumps back, nearly sending Shiro to the ground. He holds onto her as he gapes at the creature that has entered the arena. It’s huge, bigger than any earth animal Shiro could compare it to. It’s long like a giant weasel with a crocodile’s mouth. Six legs, six white eyes. A thick iridescent white hide and viciously sharp claws. It’s the nightmare version of a gexyl. Shiro thinks blurrily through the terror that they must be from the same world. What a mistake it was to think the gexyl’s must have been the top predator there.

The alien flinches in the light of the arena, and lets out another scream, thrashing its tail with enough force to leave deep welts in the arena sand. Shiro gets a good view of its mouth and wishes he hadn’t. It’s crammed full of wickedly sharp teeth as long as his arm. Singularity shakes under him but does not move. She barely seems to breathe, so still Shiro realizes she’s attempting to hide in plain sight. Singularity, terrifying in her own right, is frozen like a deer in the headlights. ‘Prey instincts in the presence of an apex predator’ Shiro’s mind supplies. The creature shakes it head again, blinking furiously, and paws at its face. It hisses angrily, thrashing and snapping. A gexyl that had been frozen still screams in terror and flees. The monster catches the movement and goes as still as if it had become stone. It crouches and leaps, crossing half the arena in one easy bound. Shiro watches in horror as it rips the gexyl in half, blood coating the arena wall in an arc. The short time it takes to eat its meal gives the others time to scatter. It’s not enough time. There’s nowhere to run. It lifts its horrible head and moves, far too fast and nimble for something so large, crushing a straggling gladiator beneath its massive paws. It’s far too close and Shiro can hear the sharp snap of bones.

The monster is relentless and Shiro looks away, tucking his head into Singularities neck and trying not to listen to the screams. He looses track of time as he shakes apart. There’s a strange noise close by and Shiro looks up. It’s the half breed who’d been on the striped gexyl. They’re bloodied and bruised, one eye swollen shut where Shiro had hit them, but they are still alive. They bang on the force field, screaming for help. Shiro shakes his head, just once. There’s no way to lower the barrier. The half-breed quiets. They tuck in close to the barrier. Try to make themselves small and still. There’s a dozen things Shiro wants to say, but they are all lies. It’s not going to be okay, and he can’t help them, and he isn’t sorry that it’s the half breed out there with the monster instead of him.

Shiro watches, frozen, as the monster approaches, it’s entire head and front stained red with blood. It’s horrifically beautiful, lithe and graceful and deadly. It gleams under the arena light like a god of death sent to unleash judgement upon them all. The half-breed screams, wild with terror, and locks their indigo gaze on Shiro. Shiro shudders; Keith’s eyes flash bright through his mind, a memory he’d nearly forgotten. They press a bloody hand to the force field and stare. Shiro stares back.

“I’m scared” they say, voice quiet. “I don’t want to die.”

“You’re not alone” Shiro says. It’s the only truth he can offer.

Tears well up in their eyes, but they nod. “I’m not alone” they repeat. They choke on a sob. “Don’t look away. Don’t you dare look away.”

“I won’t.”

The monster’s shadow drops over them both. The half breed stills, but their gaze never leaves Shiro. Shiro doesn’t look away.

The beast tears the half-breeds head off their shoulders and crunches their skull between its teeth. The body slumps forward against the force field with a sickening thump, blood welling up and dripping down to pool around the still form. The monster looks directly at him and Shiro feels his heart freeze. It paws at the force field, then claws at it. Sin shakes so hard Shiro is worried she will collapse. For a terrifying moment Shiro is certain the force field will give under the attack. But even as the alien digs at it and screams its frustration, it holds.

It loses interest and paws at the still body by its feet. When that creates no reaction, the beast picks it up almost gently before violently shaking it head, splattering gore. It tosses the body and chases after it like a cat entertaining itself with a dead mouse. Shiro slumps over Singularity’s neck and tries to soothe her, but no sound will come out of his mouth. He rubs his hands over her instead. She’s covered in a sheen of sweat, her breaths coming in deep gasps. Shiro tries to focus on her instead of looking up. All he sees is the half breed’s deep indigo gaze piercing through him.

The creature toys with those that remain, chasing them, batting them, tossing them, until they die of shock or injury. Then it eats them. The arena howls their bloodlust at every death. Shiro holds tightly onto Singularity and they shake together. His mind alternates between still numbness and racing panic. The force field seems like such a flimsy barrier between them and death. The monster unleashes another scream, and Shiro screams back, his throat raw and burning. He screams out his rage and his terror and his guilt and his head clears just enough to notice that the arena has gone eerily still. He recognizes the stillness and the blood soaked sand. It’s over.

The great beast has laid down to lick its paws, probably full and sleepy now. Shiro has no idea how they control such a creature, but after everything he’s see in the arena he doesn’t doubt their ability to. The crowd is still a constant background noise like a crashing waves. Shiro numbly wonders from somewhere outside his body if that means something else is going to happen next. He’s not in any shape to fight, and Sin isn’t in any shape to run. Sin jerks to look to where the giant doors have opened. They monster turns too, and it rises to stand. It gives itself a shake before it disappears down the tunnel. Shiro doesn’t relax at all until the doors slam shut.

The dais sinks into the floor. As soon as the arena is no longer visible, Singularity collapses. Shiro tumbles to the floor and rolls. He groans, pain catching up with him now that the adrenaline is fading. Everything hurts. He lays splayed on the floor for a moment, slowly processing that he somehow survived that. He hauls himself up and pulls Singularity’s head into his lap. He checks her over with quick and worried hands. She’s still breathing thank god. She must have fainted. He can’t say he blames her. When he blinks again he’s slumped over her, body strangely numb. He feels cold.

The barrier drops and the handlers pull him away. He goes without a fight, too exhausted to resist. He blacks out before they make it to the doctors.

Shiro jerks awake in his cell. He’s disoriented and and struggles against his blanket. He stops when he realizes it’s a nice thick one, warm and soft where the old one had been thin and scratchy. Combined with the weird foam pad he’d gotten for winning fights he almost has a real bed now. As his mind focuses he looks around his bare cell. It’s quiet, as it always is. He’s in solitary confinement. The galra had called it a reward when they moved him here, but it didn’t feel like it. This place was devoid of life, the only sounds the footsteps of drones and occasional muffled murmurs of other high profile prisoners. He wondered then and he wondered now if they just considered him too dangerous to keep with the others. He takes stock of himself, noting he’s not in much pain. The doctors must have healed him. His face is sore, and when he reaches up he finds the wound across nose is still there. Why not heal it and bandage it instead? Maybe just to mark him, Shiro thinks bitterly. A mark of having killed every other rider and gexyl in that race to survive. A mark of belonging to the arena, and to the galra. He wonders if Singularity is okay. Will he even get to see her anymore now that the race is over? Or will it be back to like it was before, him slowly losing his mind alone in this cell, his only contact in bursts of pain in the arena and the cold hands of the handlers and doctors. He shudders. He tugs his new blanket up over his shoulders and burrows down in his bed as much as he can.

Time passes, and Shiro startles when part of the cell door slides open. The bars remain, but now Shiro can see out into the hallway. Shiro is surprised to see Haxus there. He’s high ranked enough that he only comes to see Shiro when there’s serious news; or more often, when he wants something.

Shiro sits up, blanket still around him to stave off the cold. “How’s Singulairty?” Shiro asks.

Haxus scowls. “She died.”

Shiro gapes at him. She can’t be dead, they won. They survived together. She was so young and full of life and she’s dead. She was his only friend in this godforsaken place and now she’s gone, he killed her, they killed her, he’s going to be alone-

Shiro is distracted from his spiraling thoughts by the gleeful cackling of Haxus. “I can’t believe you fell for that.” He wheezes, struggling not to giggle. “She’s fine you idiot.” Shiro struggles to deal with the emotional whiplash while Haxus pushes several boxes of food into the cell. He stays crouched in a squat and eyes Shiro with an expression he can’t read.

“Thanks for winning me my bets. Even Sendak is pleased for once.“ Haxus says. He’s practically preening. "I though that since you are furrless you’d appreciate a real blanket, so you’re welcome.” He leans in conspiringly “I pulled some strings so you can keep seeing your pet. I don’t fancy you losing your mind on me, because then you’d be worthless. Of course, it all hinges on your good behavior.” Haxus stands and smiles.

“I have a feeling you won’t disappoint, Champion.”

#voltron #shiro #sheith #haxus #blood tw #gore tw #violence tw #the second chapter will be happier #i break it and then i fix it lol #my writing

[joyfullynervouscreator]

The Walkers pt 5

Apparently I didn’t post this on tumblr, sigh, sorry!

part 1                part 2                part 3                part 4                part 5              

Chapter 5

Athelstan is not improving, you know, admitting it to yourself more than a year after Ordred’s arrival. You see it in the way he must rest after most tasks, the slow way he moves, often seeming unsure that his leg will bear him. You take on more of his chores, though much of your time is spent with Athelstan close to the house while Ordred works the fields. He is a good farmer, at least, though that is the highest compliment you can give him. He hasn’t ogled you as he did at your first meeting, but you still feel uneasy in his presence, preferring not to be alone with him.

Some days, as you watch Athelstan weaken, you wonder who will care for you when it is time for you to join the Hunt Eternal. Somehow, you hope your death will come at the point of blade; preferably in defence of a loved one, but swiftly. This lingering sickness that steals his breath – you have tried all the remedies you can think of, the ones you’ve learned from Beorn as well as the ones recommended by the village healer – is hard to watch. Athelstan was always a proud unbroken man, and you do not like to watch him so small and frail.

 “She is a beautiful woman, Ordred,” Athelstan says in the kitchen; you know that he doesn’t realise you can hear him easily. Dropping the bucket into the well with a small splash, you begin to crank the handle that will bring up the water. The two men are sowing seeds in low wooden containers filled with soil – it is still too cold for vegetables to survive – where they will grow to seedlings in the warmth of the kitchen before you will plant them in the fields and garden.

“Very handsome, Uncle,” Ordred agrees. You tell yourself that he is not leering at you, but you know that’s a lie, feeling his gaze as you straighten, pulling the bucket from the well. The cow moos; she’s wanting milking, though it will have to wait until you have watered the horses. “Strong, too, she’d make a fine wife.” You make your way into the barn, hiding from them as though you could push the idea back into their heads if you’re not in line of sight. Marry Ordred? You’d… you wouldn’t quite go so far as to say you’d rather return to Azog’s tender care, but it’s a close call. There’s simply something about him that scares you, and you’ve long-since learned to trust those instincts.

 Beorn travels south, shying away from the settlements of Men when he can, wondering at how many farms he sees as he lumbers steadily on through the nights, sleeping beneath bushes or in fields during the day. It is clear the Northmen have thrived in this land, and for a moment he wonders if he might have had ‘descendants’ here, if Álmbera or her child had survived the birthing. He shakes his head; she has been gone for a very long time, she and Tirwald both, existing as no more than a memory in the heart of a lonely old bear. Still, he thinks about it, especially when he catches sight of a small redhaired girl dancing around her straw-haired father. The thought of her leads back to thoughts of Ullrae, thoughts he has not allowed himself to entertain before, wondering what her cubs will look like… his cubs. He doesn’t know that it is possible; he has no recollection of a Walker mating with someone of a different animal skin, but he thinks it more likely any child of theirs would take the skin of a lynx. A pleased rumble escapes him, thinking about a small girl with Ullrae’s bright golden eyes – they’re more yellow than his own – filled with joyous laughter, as she plays with the dogs; just like her mother, finding fun in tugging strips of fur with them for hours. He moves away from that farm, leaving behind a swiftly tied straw-doll, almost amazed that his fingers remember how to make them, even though he has had no cause to make such toys since Álmbera became a woman.

He has had to realise that Radagast was right; clothes are a necessity. A massive bear lumbering through the landscape is even more conspicuous than a very tall man, even if he only moves at night; but nights are short, still, and he needs to cover a lot of ground, seeking any trace of her. At first, he creates a simple loincloth of fur, having hunted a few hares down, but eventually he has to admit that if he wishes to pass for a Man from a distance he will need proper clothes. He doesn’t want to steal, but he hasn’t got any money, nor does he think that any of the farmers would react well to the appearance of a half-naked man looking like a wildling with fur-clothes asking to trade. In the end, he leaves three fat rabbits in quickly constructed hutches by one farm, in return taking a pair of trousers that are too short and tight, but will do in a pinch. At another homestead, he manages to obtain a loose shirt – he thinks it is meant for sleeping, but it is relatively comfortable and doesn’t tear when he moves his shoulders – and changes his habits to walking by day and sleeping in his bear skin by night, changing back well before dawn when he’s hunted a satisfactory breakfast.

 “I had hoped you would like Ordred more than you do,” Athelstan mumbles one afternoon, shortly after the harvest is over. You look up from your spinning; he hasn’t been able to speak for the past week, catching some illness at the village harvest festival that has worsened his breathing. You have not dared leave him for long, keeping to the house most of the day though you long to stretch your legs, long to hunt in your other form. Since Ordred arrived, you have spent less time as a lynx, limiting yourself to marking the borders of the farm in the dead of night; always careful that no one hears you leave your bed or return home in the small hours before dawn. You do not want him to share your secret, and Athelstan would never betray your trust to tell him.

“He is a fine worker,” you reply quietly. Athelstan might think of you as his ward, but he is blood-kin to Ordred; even if you have known him for almost ten years, you don’t want to offend him by disparaging his nephew.

“He would be a good husband for you,” Athelstan continues. His eyes are closed, missing the sheer horror on your face. You can’t find words to offer as a reply. “I could leave the farm to both of you; you would take care of Wilrun, too, if needed.”

“No, Athelstan,” you sigh, knowing he is trying to take care of you, while he still can. Getting to your feet, you pour him some more water, helping him sip. Athelstan smiles gratefully. “I will not marry Ordred.” You manage to keep the revulsion off your face, though Athelstan’s eyes have fallen closed once more and he does not see the tremors in your hands at the thought of mating someone who is not Beorn. You feel the restlessness of the prowling cat in your soul, snarling at the very idea. You sigh, returning to your work as Athelstan’s light snore fills the kitchen. He sleeps here now, to be closer to the warmth of the hearth, and so you can keep an easier eye on him during the day.

“Do you not wish for a family of your own?” Athelstan asks, forcing his eyes open some time later. You turn away from the pot of stew you’ve been stirring meditatively to give him a gentle smile, bending to kiss his forehead. Athelstan has become your family. “You would have pretty children, Ullrae,” he continues, and you know you must tell him; must confirm what you believe he already knows.

“I will not marry Ordred, Athelstan, for my heart was sealed for a different male many years ago,” you whisper, stroking his cheek. “And though he does not want me, I do not think I shall ever want another.” The pain of that truth has lost its sharpest edges over the years you have been gone, though it still aches.

“I worry about you, Ullrae,” he replies with a frown, though you know he is thinking about Ceolwen. If he had married Gyda five years ago, things might have been different, but Ceolwen was his first and only true love, you know, catching the sorrow-mingled love on his face whenever his wife appears in his thoughts. “I want you to be taken care of when I’m gone.” Athelstan tries again, interrupted by a violent cough. You pat his cheek gently, helping him sit, letting him cough up the bloody goo that his sicknesses produce. You knew it when you first met, and you haven’t changed your mind as the years passed: Athelstan is a good man.

“Do not fret, my friend, I will be well.” You smile, as reassuring as you can be. In truth, and you both know it, you have no idea what you will do once he dies; you have an inkling that you might choose to live in your other skin for some time, maybe go south, see the mountains in this land. You will survive, somehow, too stubborn to give up on life until you have seen all that you may. It is your penance, you think, remembering all those who died while you alone survived. It would not do to join them in the Hunt without knowing that you have done the best you could with what you were given, without being able to say, ‘I have lived’.

“Tell me about this man who is daft enough not to want you, then,” he replies and, for a moment, you think the words will stick in your throat, but as you begin, hesitant, to describe the man you would marry, you find they come easy, filling the small room with Beorn’s soft rumbles and slow smiles as you talk. You find that you remember more than you thought, recall many days that always seemed to be filled with sunlight and happiness, even in the dead of winter. Somehow, the pain has lessened over the years, allowing you to remember the small ways Beorn showed you that he cared for you, even if it was only something as simple as planting more of the flowers that made your favourite blue dye, or carving new wooden buttons for your clothes. You never learned to like knives, though the glint off a blade no longer sends you reeling in fright, remembering the many ways your skin has been cut over the years, the scars that you can still trace even if they are no longer visible. Athelstan smiles, drifting off to sleep to the sound of your voice. Perhaps you will go back, you think, one day. Just to check on Beorn’s small house, see if the dogs have multiplied like he said they would when you found the small female pup and brought her home. You could do it, could return without him knowing, just to see… to know that Beorn is living and well, even if he won’t want to see you. With a small mile, you return to your spinning, coiling up the undyed thread. You will make it blue, you suddenly decide, blue like the sky in summer, when you’d lie in the garden and watch the clouds move, listening to Beorn’s rumbling song as he worked somewhere behind you, filling your heart with quiet joy. Maybe you will leave him a skein, when you go back, a small token that you had been there, and watch what he does with it, telling you whether he might – when you’re brave enough – welcome a proper visit.

 Ordred listens to Ullrae’s quiet stories, knowing that she hasn’t heard him come in, too focussed on his uncle. He notes the way she caresses that name, Beorn, as she speaks, telling stories about a small log cabin and bountiful gardens, about bees larger than any others and a riot of colourful flowers. Jealousy eats him, realising that it is this Beorn who makes her so reluctant towards his advances, whose name colours her voice with a soft smile. Silently, he begins to plot new ways of winning her affections, diffuse plans about flowers swirling in his mind. He would prefer she come to him willingly, but he already knows that Ullrae will be his wife; where else would she go, once Athelstan dies? She has no home, no family, and by her own admission this man scorned her love, leaving her adrift in the world until she came here; found a new home with his crippled uncle. Ordred smirks. Yes, Ullrae will make him a good wife, bear him strong sons…

One of Radagasts’ bird friends finds him near the river Entwade, a small thrush, though at first he does not recognise the chirping ball of feathers as a messenger. It’s not until he’s swatted it away four times, growling in annoyance at it that he remembers the wizard’s promise of aid. With a sigh, Beorn lets the small bird land on his shoulder. The thrush chirps in ways he would almost swear are trying to be words, and he wonders why the daft old wizard couldn’t have used an understandable messenger. He might even have welcomed one of the many hedgehogs Radagast is so fond of; at least their faces are surprisingly expressive, even capable of participating in games of 'Masks and guesses'. He growls at the small thing. The thrush chirps again. He would swear that it is laughing at him.

With a scowl, Beorn moves on, intending to follow the Snowbourn to Edoras, heading into what the Rohirrim have named the Westfold. There is good land here, even if there are far too many people for his taste, but at least he speaks their tongue to some degree – or rather, these descendants of Tirwald’s Northmen speak his. Asking about a tall woman with golden eyes, however, gives him no answers. She would not choose to live in a place like Edoras, anyway, he thinks. Ullrae does not do well with crowds, he knows, from the few times they made it to the nearest Elven village to his home – a three- or four-day journey – to trade medicinal plants and plant dyes for the few metal items he can’t make himself. The Elves, of course, do not work metal either, but they trade with the Dwarrow beyond the Forest, and that race has always known how to make quality metalwork, Beorn knows, even if he doesn’t like them.

 On his last night, you carry Athelstan outside when he asks, holding him like he is a small child as you tell him stories about the stars; the legends your mother once told you, about the Great Hunter, the Warrior, the Mother and Child – all the stories you can think of. Athelstan is afraid, you know, so you tell him about the Hunt Eternal, explain to him how the spirits of the past are all around you, in the earth, and the water and the animals. You talk about your family, waiting to play with you once more; the wind in the grass. It is not his faith, as his gods are not your gods, but you think he finds a small comfort in the thought. You speak until the sun rises, catching in the tears on your cheeks; knowing that you have been talking to an empty shell for hours.

 Leaving Edoras, he keeps heading west. Somehow, he knows that she would have stayed in this land, instead of heading further south to the Stoningland. These people speak her tongue, whereas those further south speak something like Elvish, he thinks, and Ullrae never liked that language, claiming it sat wrongly on her tongue.

 “You have to stay for the funeral,” Ordred says, his voice as hard as his face, though he has cried no tears for Athelstan, “show my uncle that honour; if you were truly his friend, you will do it.” You scowl, but you know he’s right. Even if it is only to appease your own heart, you have to stay; have to give Athelstan the proper farewell he has earned through a decade of life together.

 The thrush leaves him for part of the day, but usually finds him around evening, ensuring that he will move in the right direction in the morning. When he tries to head south, towards the White Mountains – Ullrae’s Pride was mountain-based, it would be familiar life to her – the thrush objects, pecking his cheek. With a low growl, Beorn turns north, wondering at the amount of trust he is placing in such a small bird – and Radagast, of course.

 You dig the grave yourself, while Ordred rides to his mother’s house, spreading the news on the way. You prepare some food, though you know it is custom to bring food to a house in mourning, so you do not make a lot. You wonder if Gyda will come, or if her brother will keep her away, wishing you could speak to her without him hovering, tell her that Athelstan did love her, in his own way, tell her that if she needs it, you will find a way to help Wilrun for her father’s sake.

Athelstan’s body has been wrapped in a linen shroud, keeping away the flies that have already begun to swarm around the slowly decaying meat. You can smell it; a smell you had grown accustomed to in the Stronghold, and the first time you catch a whiff of it you’re sick behind the barn. When you stop shaking, stop listening for Orcs as your heart hammers wildly, you return to your task.

That night, you feel the first stirrings of dread, embers catching fire in your skin. You panic.

#beorn #beorn/reader #The Walkers #The Skinchanger Chronicles

[kookiehao]

[SEVENTEEN] OT13 - the thread that binds us (1/?) - 7007 words

Title: the thread that binds us Author: kookiehao (arashianelf on LJ and AO3) Pairings: OT13!friendship, hints of jicheol Genre: Fluff, fantasy, angst Rating: G Summary: A person's life can be deeply affected by tiny little things that occur far away from them; the butterfly effect, it's called. However, sometimes it's things that occur closer to home that can change a person's life forever.

For Choi Seungcheol, it begins with this: an old man comes to visit in a small town on the outskirts of Daegu. Notes: I was sappy enough on my beginning notes when I posted this on AO3 over here, so if you really want to, you can read it over there HAHA please enjoy this :)

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A person's life can be deeply affected by tiny little things that occur far away from them; the butterfly effect, it's called. However, sometimes it's things that occur closer to home that can change a person's life forever.

For Choi Seungcheol, it begins with this: an old man comes to visit in a small town on the outskirts of Daegu.

For a long break, he claims, tired of the hustle and bustle of the city life. His story is taken to be truth, and the townspeople would have gone on with their lives in peace if they hadn't caught a hint of one discriminating piece of evidence that the old man had tried to hide. Within hours, everyone knows what has happened.

The Cat has come to visit.

They gossip about who it might be. It's a small town, after all, and there's not many people turning sixteen. It could be that spoiled girl down the street, or that boy who loves to skateboard while running errands for his family.

No one expects it when the old man approaches the oldest boy from the Choi family the day before his sixteenth birthday, three days after he first stepped foot in this town. The Choi family is known for their friendliness and their hospitality, and their elder boy is the epitome of the good kid, the model student, the one everyone wants their kid to be.

Maybe he's secretly a burglar, the men and women gossip at the bar. The grocery store has had things stolen from it the past week, and so has the pharmacy. Maybe the good kid persona is just that, a mask hiding who the boy really is.

The Cat has come to town, and Choi Seungcheol is not the good kid that everyone thinks he is. The Cat's curse is never carried by a good person, after all.

There are a few facts in life that everybody knows to be true. A few examples: the sky is blue, the grass is green, and the Cat hates the Rat.

The story that everyone knows goes like this.

Once upon a time, the Jade Emperor, although having ruled Heaven and Earth justly and wisely for many years, had never had the time to actually visit the Earth personally. He grew curious as to what the creatures looked like. Thus, he asked all the animals to visit him in Heaven.

The Cat, being the most handsome of all animals, asked his friend the Rat to wake him on the day they were to go to Heaven so he wouldn't oversleep. The Rat, however, was worried that he would seem ugly compared to the Cat, and so when the time came, he didn't wake the Cat.

So, the Rat began his journey to Heaven bright and early, wanting to be the first as the Jade Emperor had also decreed that the years on the calendar and the months of each year would be named for the first twelve animals in the order they arrived to the meeting. However, halfway through his travels, he came across a river, which he would have to cross in order to continue on.

Stumped, for he would be easily swept away in the currents and hence could not attempt to swim across, he rested there until the next animal, Ox, came upon the river. Ox, being naïve and good-natured, agreed to carry him across, and as Ox neared the other side of the river, Rat jumped ahead and reached the shore first, allowing him to claim first place in the competition and the zodiac.

The other animals came in one after another after the Rat: the Ox in second place, followed by the Tiger, Rabbit, Dragon, Snake, Horse, Goat, Monkey, Rooster, Dog, and lastly, Pig.

The celebrations lasted a day and night, and the Cat reached Heaven early the next morning. he saw the remnants of the celebrations, and realised that the Rat had lied to him. Because of the Rat's actions, the Cat missed the meeting with the Jade Emperor and hence lost his chance to claim a spot on the zodiac.

In a fit of anger, the Cat stole the Jade Emperor's weapon while He was asleep, and with it, cursed the Rat to spend eternity as a Human. However, he was unable to control the power, and with his actions cursed all thirteen animals.

When the Jade Emperor saw what the Cat had done, he changed the curse so that the twelve zodiac animals would change forms on the first day of the month that was named after them, for two-thirds of the month, and the Cat, as punishment, would change every last third of every month.

Thus the story of the curse of the zodiac animals ends.

In present day, the Cat is shunned, and the twelve zodiac animals are venerated, for everyone blames the Cat for having the zodiac animals suffer through a transformation once a year.

‘The ahjummas are in a flurry today,’ Seungcheol thinks as he passes by the café where they usually gather to share gossip on the way home from school. True enough, the café is bustling with noise, the old ladies gathered round tables that have been pushed together and talking to one another over cups of tea and coffee.

Seungcheol walks down the streets he grew up on, enjoying the faint breeze in the air. As he walks, his mind turns to the question his mother had asked him before he’d left for school that morning. “What I would like for my birthday, huh,” he ponders out loud as he walks. It’s a question that he always has trouble answering, but he has to come up with something before his birthday in three days.

He meanders through the park, walking a well-worn path home, still thinking of what he wants as his birthday present. He looks up at the sound of a cane and footsteps, meeting the eyes of an unfamiliar old man.

“Won’t you sit with me, boy? Entertain an old man for a while?” the elderly man rasps, and Seungcheol checks his watch, nodding slowly. He joins the old man on his walk until they find a bench shadowed by a large tree, and they sit down together. Seungcheol fidgets awkwardly, wondering what he’s supposed to say.

“The ahjummas were gossiping about you,” he blurts out after a while, and the old man chuckles. “Unusual to have a newcomer in this town, huh,” the old man replies, and Seungcheol nods. “Most of the time, it’s only tourists, but you look local, so they’re wondering why you’re here.”

“Do you want to know why?” the man asks, and Seungcheol hesitates. His instincts tell him that something important is going to happen, and that he should trust this man, and whatever he’s going to say, but his brain tells him that he isn’t ready.

He nods slowly, and the old man smiles, fingers tapping at his cane in beat to the birds chirping in the tree behind them.

Jihoon breathes a sigh of relief as the taxi drives into town. He opens the group chat he has with the others, scrolling through the messages that he’d missed while anticipating the crossing of the border into the town just off the heart of Seoul.

To: three years is up!!

say moo: I finally made it through the town borders.

say moo: okay, who changed my name again? I represent an ox, not a cow.

say moo has changed their name to jihoon

I'M A CHICKEN: not me!

I’M A CHICKEN: thank god we can finally go back

i love bananas: ㅋㅋㅋ

jihoon: seungkwan, the one that says it isn't them normally is the person. >.> kwon soonyoung don't just laugh.

supposed to be tiny but not: it was me ㅋㅋㅋ

jihoon: you're not supposed to abuse your hyung privilege, jeonghan-hyung. anyway, I'm at the manor already.

supposed to be tiny but not: oh. you remember what we discussed? keep us updated, yeah?

jihoon: yeah, I do, and I'll try. anyway, I'm going now, just wanted to inform you guys.

supposed to be tiny but not has changed jihoon's name to say moo

i'm a horse and look like one: ㅋㅋㅋ

Jihoon locks his phone, taking a deep breath as the taxi pulls up to the manor. He pays the driver and thanks him after the driver helps him remove his luggage from the trunk, before turning to look up at the huge manor in front of him.

To his right, the plaque on the wall states in bold words: The Zodiac Manor.

He takes a deep breath and slowly approaches the tall iron gates, placing a hand on the seam between the two and pushing gently. He sighs in relief when the gates swing open under his hand, grabbing his luggage and pulling it behind him as he makes his way up to the front doors.

He pulls out a keyring with an ox keychain hanging from it along with a variety of keys, and separates one from the rest, inserting it into the keyhole. The door unlocks with a loud ‘click’, and Jihoon smiles to himself, pushing open the doors.

“Jihoon,” Taehyung greets. Jihoon startles, looking up from where he was busy keeping his keys, standing in the foyer. “Taehyung-hyung,” Jihoon replies, smiling a little, “Long time no see.”

“Yes, it has. Three years, on the dot, correct?” Taehyung nods, moving forward to help the smaller male with the luggage. “On the dot. We wouldn’t forget the date,” Jihoon replies, following after the male, walking the familiar route to his room.

He brushes his hand across the ox carving that acts as the nameplate for the wooden door that leads to his bedroom as he walks in, surprised to see how clean it is.

“You’ve been cleaning regularly?” Jihoon asks, surprised. Taehyung grins, boxy smile familiar and welcoming. He hums, nodding.

“Five of you doing cleaning all by yourselves? I heard that the housekeeping teams haven’t been coming by,” Jihoon’s incredulous tone sets Taehyung off, and Jihoon watches in befuddlement as the older man cracks up and laughs himself silly next to him.

“N-nah,” Taehyung gasps out, still giggling in bouts, “we had help.”

“Help?” Jihoon wonders, puzzled. Taehyung nods happily, huffing as he catches his breath from laughing so hard. “C’mon, I’ll introduce you!”

Taehyung leads Jihoon down the familiar hallways and into the kitchen, from which Jihoon can smell the divine smell of food a few hallways away. They reach the kitchen in no time at all, and Jihoon enters the kitchen.

For a moment Jihoon tenses, thinking it’s Seungcheol at the stoves, what with the height and the broad back and shoulders, but then the man turns around and smiles at the sight of them, giving Taehyung a mildly confused look.

“Jin-hyung!” Taehyung bounds over, pulling Jihoon along with him. “This is Jihoon, the Ox. Or he used to be, anyway.” Jihoon bows as much as he can when Taehyung introduced him, trapped as he is in Taehyung’s grip.

“Hello,” the man’s voice is warm, and Jihoon relaxes a little at his friendly greeting. “I’m Kim Seokjin, and I’m this one’s hyung. I hope you don’t mind that I took over the kitchen.”

Jihoon shakes his head, taking a step away from Taehyung as the older man releases him, replying affably. “It’s okay, Seokjin-ssi. We rarely used the kitchen when I stayed here, anyway. Cheol-hyung… he was the one that used it the most.”

Jihoon glances around, walking to the worn wooden table in the centre of the kitchen, running a finger along the grooves and shallow gouges in the wood.

“Just call me hyung, Jihoon-ssi. I have a feeling we’re going to be well-acquainted soon enough anyway, thanks to this one over here,” Seokjin tells him, knuckling Taehyung away from the pan where some chicken is cooking.

Jihoon laughs, nodding in acquiescence. “Call me Jihoon, then.” He startles a little when he hears a rattling sound coming from above him, and he looks up to see three familiar cats, one pure white, the second pure black and the last a chocolate brown with white markings. Jihoon watches as they stare unblinkingly down at him, and shivers.

“I’m the Cat, boy. Do you know what that means?” The old man says, watching the clouds roll by in the blue sky.

“Like… the one in the stories?” Seungcheol asks tentatively. The old man chuckles, the sound rusty. He sounds like he hasn’t laughed in ages, Seungcheol thinks to himself. “Not a story, kid. The Zodiac animals are all alive and kicking,” the old man tells him.

“That’s what this bracelet means.” The old man draws back his sleeves, exposing the bead bracelet to the sunlight. Seungcheol observes it. It’s old and worn, a bracelet of black beads except for a white bead in the middle. Looking closer, he notices a figure of a cat carved onto it.

“It’s the bracelet that tells people you’re the Cat, right? Why do you hide it?” Seungcheol wonders, before he realises what a stupid question he’s asking. He’s heard the story of the Zodiac animals so many times, heard all the opinions of the Cat that the town’s older folks had to offer.

The old man huffs a laugh at his expression, before sobering. “I’m going to ask you a question, kid, and it’s going to sound weird. I want you to answer as honestly as you can.”

Seungcheol nods slowly, wondering if he should leave now, before the old man asks whatever question he has. “Okay…” he draws out the last syllable.

“Have you ever felt like you’ve gotten along well with certain animals? Like, cats or dogs or whatever? Small town like this, someone has to have a pet, right?” the old man asks, and Seungcheol frowns.

“It is indeed a weird question to ask, harabeoji,” Seungcheol says, but thinks through the question seriously.

“My name is Park Jungsu, kid. You can still call me harabeoji, I don’t mind. At least someone will know my name and remember me when I’m gone,” the old man, Jungsu, apparently, informs him, before leaving him to think through the question.

“To answer your question… I would have to say yes, I guess? The stray cats around my house love me. But that’s only because I feed them at least four times a week. Jung-imo’s cat from next door loves coming over to me all the time as well.” Seungcheol answers the question after a while of thinking, and Jungsu nods to himself.

“Should never have doubted the cat’s sixth sense. Well then, kid, tell me your name first. If we’re going to be mentor and student for the next few months, I’m going to have to know your name,” Jungsu states, standing up with the help of his cane.

“I’m Choi Seungcheol- wait, what do you mean by mentor and student? Why would I be a student of the Cat?” Seungcheol stares up at the old man now towering over him, offering him a hand to get up, which he takes.

“You’re going to be the next Cat, kid. Seungcheol. That’s why I came to this town. I’m here to find the successor to the position of the Cat in the Zodiac.”

“Eomma?” Seungcheol’s voice is quiet. It’s his last night with his family, and he can tell his eomma wants to cry. It’s only been two days since his world was turned upside down, and he doesn’t want to leave his family on his birthday, but some things are just out of their control, as Jungsu-harabeoji told him.

His mother sniffles a little, turning to look at her older son with red eyes. He comes over to her and hugs her tight, committing everything to memory, knowing that this is probably the last time he’ll get to hug his mother.

“I know what I want for my birthday, now.” Seungcheol tells his mother slowly, and she smiles at him tremulously, breaking away from the hug to brush his hair out of his eyes. “Name it, son. Name it and I’ll do everything I can to get it for you.”

Seungcheol takes a deep breath, before telling her his birthday wish. She starts crying again. Seungcheol cries with her, knowing that in this moment, when it is just them two, he can shed the image of the older, more responsible son.

“I’ll do it,” she tells him in between sobs, and he desperately tries to wipe away her tears, even as his own slide down his face. “I’ll make sure no one forgets that I have a son called Choi Seungcheol, that he is the brightest, most lovable child that you can ever come across. I’ll tell Seungjin what a good older brother he has.

“And in return,” she tells him, grasping his face between her hands and wiping his tears away by rubbing her thumbs across his cheeks. “In return, always remember that you will have a family in us. Call us as often as you can. Send us as many letters as you want. I’ll always pick up, always reply to your letters.”

She smiles at him, her precious son that she had first held in her arms fifteen years, eleven months and thirty days ago, and cradles him to her chest as he cries his heart out. Her husband, his son’s father, watches over them from the doorway, tears glistening in his own eyes.s

The last memory Seungcheol has of his family is this: His mother, standing at the front porch, crying silently as she watches the old man bring her son away, never to be seen again, to live a life of loneliness.

He will never forget the stoic figure that was his father, watching from the window, gruff goodbyes echoing in his head. He would especially never forget the tiny boy that ran after him, only to be chased and stopped by his mother.

His younger brother, the one person he would never see grow up despite wanting to be there for every milestone.

The first thing the old man teaches him is how to hide himself, how to hide his bracelet when he gets it. The black and white bead bracelet is an instant recognition tool, one that will ensure that he is shunned in most communities.

“You’ll have to write this down somewhere,” the old man says, wondering if he should tell the boy this early on. Making up his mind, he continues. “You probably won’t need this information until you can leave the town to find your successor.”

Seungcheol frowns. “What do you mean?”

The old man sighs, looking older beyond his years for a moment, which considering how old he looks, is quite a feat. “Once you step foot into the town boundary, you’re never leaving until you have to find your successor.

“You’ll find out soon enough, but there’s a lot of history that I’m not proud of, kid. Some of our ancestors, the previous Cat-bearers, they did bad things. And now we’re the ones suffering for it.”

Seungcheol’s frown stays fixed on his face. “I’ll be… trapped?”

Jungsu nods, bracing himself in case the kid decides to run. It had been his first thought when he realised he would be trapped in what was essentially a gilded cage for the foreseeable future. The Cat couldn’t leave, and was plied with everything they needed except for the one thing so essential to mankind – freedom.

Unfortunately for him, his predecessor had been smart enough to tell him when they had entered the barrier dome. Seungcheol notes the way Jungsu eyes him warily and takes a deep breath, pushing his panicked emotions aside.

He had been chosen by the Fates, after all. It would be useless for him to panic and put unnecessary burden on Jungsu. “Let’s continue on our journey, harabeoji,” Seungcheol finally says when he feels that he isn’t going to react too much to what the old man had said.

Jungsu continues to eye him warily, and asks, “Not going to run, kid?” Seungcheol shrugs and shakes his head, explaining his logical thought process to the old man, who only shakes his head in reply. “I wish I was as mature at your age back then. First thing I did was run, when I was told. Smacked face first into that bloody barrier and gave myself a nice mild concussion.”

Seungcheol tries holding it in, really, he does, but the laughter leaks out of his sealed lips anyway. “Your predecessor told you only when you were trapped? What a mean person!” Jungsu huffs a short laugh as well, shaking his head at his childhood stupidity.

“Mean it may be, but he meant well. You can’t run from this curse. Sooner or later, with or without the bracelet, when the time comes, you’ll shift. It’s only a matter of where you are when you do. Fate will catch up eventually,” Jungsu says solemnly, and Seungcheol nods back seriously in return.

“Why do we have this bracelet, then?” Seungcheol queries, fingering the bracelet on his right wrist with his other hand. “The public wanted a way to identify the cursed, and our predecessor wanted something semi-fashionable,” Jungsu replies with a wry twist to his lips, and Seungcheol laughs again.

“I’m trusting you, kid. Don’t run off on me. I have a lot to teach you and I only have until you turn seventeen to get everything down. After that, you’re on your own.” Seungcheol nods in understanding, and replies, “I’m a fast learner, harabeoji. I’ll make sure to pay attention.”

Jungsu chuckles before gesturing for Seungcheol to follow as they continue walking. “I parked the car quite far off. Since I hadn’t been out in such a long time I thought I’d walk the rest of the distance,” Jungsu explains, gesturing to the parked car in the distance.

Seungcheol nods, and follows after the old man. “Let’s enjoy the breeze for a while longer, harabeoji,” Seungcheol says after a while, slowing his pace. It had struck him that this would be one of the last times, if not the last time, he would be able to enjoy walking on the fairly empty streets of the town he had grown up in.

Jungsu slows down as well, tension leaving his shoulders as the ongoing breeze ruffles their hair. “You’re right, Seungcheol-ah. Let’s take the time to relax.”

As the wind continues to blow, the two figures walk on, hair and clothes ruffling with every gust of wind, Seungcheol’s luggage dragged along behind them.

Jungsu starts the car as soon as he gets into the driver’s seat, having settled Seungcheol’s luggage in the trunk of the car and made sure that Seungcheol had belted up. After they are off, Jungsu starts talking again, and Seungcheol makes sure to listen closely.

“Now the house is more of a manor, really. I’ll guide you through the place when we reach, but for now all you have to know is that it and the lands surrounding it are huge.

“Given that Cat zodiac bearers can’t get a stable job due to the stigma surrounding us, nor can we leave the town the manor is situated in, the government is the one that pays for the bills. Electricity, water, grocery shopping, the government pays for us.

“Even then, it’s better not to waste taxpayers’ money. Don’t give them more reason to dislike us. Remember to turn off the lights that aren’t in use, don’t waste water, etcetera,” Jungsu says, watching as Seungcheol scrambles for a notebook and pen so that he can note down important information.

Once he’s sure that Seungcheol is prepared for the information dump he is about to unload on the kid, he continues. “The manor is really big, so it’s, as you would expect, a pretty big pain to clean. We have housekeeping staff coming back three times a week to clean the various parts of the manor.

“Normally, though, apart from the housekeeping staff, there’s five main staff living in the manor as well. The first is the butler. The man’s family is sworn to service to the manor since the first generation of zodiac bearers, and each generation’s butler is fairly close in age to the zodiac bearers.

“The one that will be helping you is Kim Namjoon, if I remember correctly. He’s a year older than you, and he basically runs the household so that you won’t have to worry about anything. There’s also a gardener, head housekeeper, chef, and the handyman.

“The manor’s been standing for as long as modern Korean history has existed at the very least, so there’s a lot to fix. They’re all, once again, paid by the government, and the families are all nice people,” Jungsu continues talking, paying attention to the road and occasionally glancing at Seungcheol to make sure that he has the important information down.

“I’m personally quite close to those of my generation – you kind of have to, over the years. Maybe you’ll make good friends there. The townspeople are generally neutral, but some can be nasty with their words. When we walk through the town I’ll tell you more about who’s who,” Jungsu tells Seungcheol, who nods and makes a noise of understanding.

“Okay to continue?” Jungsu asks, merging into a busy lane after emerging on a highway headed in the direction of Seoul. Seungcheol nods again, and Jungsu resumes speaking, Seungcheol scribbling down notes all the while.

“Where’s Jonghyun-hyung? Or Minhyun-hyung?” Jihoon asks, and Taehyung shrugs. “Out somewhere. Ever since Cheol left they’ve gone out every day.”

Jihoon raises an eyebrow. “Every day?” Taehyung nods, even as Seokjin remains silent. Namjoon enters the kitchen just as Taehyung says, “It’s almost time for them to return for the day.” His entrance effectively derails the conversation as Jihoon stands to hug the older man.

“Hello, Namjoon-hyung. How have you been?” Jihoon asks, walking with the man to the table where Taehyung is already seated. “Hectic as usual. The manor still has some places that need fixing up, so I need to find Yoongi-hyung,” Namjoon replies easily.

Jihoon makes a noise of understanding, before Seokjin turns from the stoves to ask him a question. “Why the sudden decision to come back, Jihoon-ah?” Jihoon pauses, flinching minutely, before replying slowly, thinking through his answer as he goes.

“We were… worried about Seungcheol-hyung. We haven’t heard from him in a while, so we decided to make the trip down to see if we could find him.” Taehyung frowns, noting a keyword. “We?” he questions.

Jihoon nodded, indicating that the usage of the term was on purpose. “The rest are planning on coming down as well. I was just the first one that was available.”

“Why now? Why not, say, two years ago?” Seokjin is the one to ask a question this time, and Jihoon tenses up. “There were… extenuating circumstances,” Jihoon says, unwilling to share more, and Seokjin is the one to frown, this time.

“Extenuating circumstances? For all twelve of you? And for three years, at that,” Seokjin points out, and Jihoon hesitates in answering the question, given that he doesn’t know how much they know and how much he wants to share.

They are thankfully interrupted by the return of Jonghyun and the others. “Have we exhausted all the possible locations?” Jonghyun’s voice echoes down the hallway, and Jihoon tenses even more, knowing what’s going to happen.

“For the day, yes we have. It’ll get dark soon, Jju-yah. We shouldn’t risk ourselves unnecessarily by stumbling around in the dark,” Minhyun replies, giving Jonghyun a side-hug. “Well, tomorrow we’ll try again, yeah? We’ll find-“ Minki draws to a halt as he realises they are no longer alone upon entering the kitchen.

“Jihoonie,” Dongho says warmly, and Jihoon smiles weakly at him, despite the sudden tension sinking into the room as the others catch sight of him sitting at the table. “Hyungs,” Jihoon greets them, standing up.

“Well, this is a surprise,” Minki says airily, “I wasn’t expecting any of you to return.” The five of them move to the table as well, pulling out seats and seating themselves, and Jihoon takes his seat again. Jihoon stiffens a little as the hidden barb flies true, and the tension increases, its weight resting heavily on Jihoon’s shoulders.

“Well, we’re all coming down. I’m just the first one to make it,” Jihoon replies, voice tense. The two unfamiliar men next to the three are quickly introduced as Dongho and Aron, but Jihoon remains tense, wary of anything they could say.

Seokjin is the one to break the tension again, announcing grandly, “Dinner is ready! Set the table, please.”

Taehyung and Minhyun move to do as they are told, and Jihoon takes the chance to ask Dongho in a low voice, “Dongho-ssi, where’s Jisung-hyung?”

Dongho makes a soft noise, replying in a low voice, “He’s busy in town, picking up some materials we’ll need for the fixing up of the house and some other things. He’ll be back soon. Also, just call me hyung.” Jihoon makes a soft sound of understanding, and goes quiet when dinner begins.

“So, Jihoon, I heard from Taehyung and the others that you’re a producer?” Seokjin asks, and Jihoon swallows his food quickly, ducking his head a little, “What songs have you produced? I may have heard of some of them.”

“I’ve helped to produce Pristin’s first and second albums,” he replies, naming an up-and-coming girl group that is steadily becoming more popular as time passes. “Oh, is that so? I’ll be sure to check them out later then,” Seokjin smiles.

“You’re a producer as well?” Dongho speaks up, and Jihoon turns to the built man, who grins. “I’ve produced my fair share of songs as well, how about we exchange a few tips and tricks later?” Jihoon, temporarily taken aback at the man’s friendliness, ignores Minki’s low mutter of ‘traitor’ and Minhyun’s sigh in reply, agreeing quickly with a smile on his face.

“Are there supposed to be others eating other than us?” Jihoon asks after a period of low conversation, Minki staunchly ignoring Jihoon, aiming the question at Jonghyun. The empty seat next to Taehyung and another next to Minhyun are laid out, due to pure habit.

“Ah, Jimin is normally here as well, but he’s off with Jisung-hyung to gather some stuff,” Jonghyun replies shortly, politeness taking over for a moment. Jihoon nods his understanding, and goes silent again, wanting to finish eating so he can leave the room and end the cold war currently brewing against him.

After he’s done, he stands up from his seat, moving his dirty dishes to the sink. “Ah, I’ll do it, you just sit and relax,” Aron speaks, making his way to the sinks with his own dishes. Bereft of anything to do, Jihoon excuses himself to return to his room to rest, catching the start of a furious hushed discussion as he is doing so.

Frowning to himself, he makes a note to figure out what the hyungs are hiding from him, make some headway into finding out what had happened to Seungcheol, and where all the cats have gone. But first, he takes out his phone as he enters his room, door clicking shut behind him.

He sits down on the bed, texting the group chat to update the others and ignoring backchat.

To: three years is up!!

say moo: there are new people in the manor.

say moo: met taehyung and the others again over dinner as well. things are tense. yoongi-hyung and jisung-hyung weren’t there.

say moo: i have a feeling they’re hiding some things from me. no idea what, though.

say moo: will try my best to find out about what cheol-hyung did to break the curse.

say moo: who the hell changed my name again im gonna find you and kill you slowly.

say moo has changed their name to jihoon

hiss hiss mf: hiding things, hm? interesting. who’s next available to head down? i’m still busy with some stuff in china. also, jihoon, you would know if you made an effort to read backchat.

orange is the new black: probably me. i’m almost done with my residency.

jihoon: alright, keep me updated. i’ll try and see what i can find out in the meantime.

jihoon: go fuck yourself junnie backchat is always at least 200 messages long.

jihoon: dongho-hyung just knocked on my door, i have to go. he’s a producer as well.

jihoon: bye for now.

i love bananas has changed jihoon’s name to say moo

orange is the new black: one of these days jihoonie is going on a murder rampage with that guitar of his and i will have to stop him.

orange is the new black: because I can’t be bothered to patch you guys up and I’m the only one with a medical degree amongst us.

orange is the new black: why did I ever think nursing was good.

hiss hiss mf: jihoon won’t go on a murder rampage until cheol-hyung is found so I would say we’re quite safe for now

orange is the new black: that’s what you all think.

Jihoon looks up from his phone as someone knocks on his door, locking his phone and throwing it on his bed as he stands up, ignoring the vibrations he can hear. “Who is it?” he calls, moving to the door.

“It’s Dongho, Jihoon-ssi. I wanted to discuss some things about a track I’ve been stuck on, see if you can help me fix it,” Dongho’s voice sounds, and Jihoon moves to open the door. “Call me Jihoon, hyung. Sorry for the mess, I’ve barely unpacked,” Jihoon says, gesturing for Dongho to take the chair as he sits on the bed, grabbing his backpack and pulling his laptop out of it.

Dongho pulls out the roller chair from the desk, placing his own laptop on his lap as he gets comfortable. “So, what did you need help with?” Jihoon asks.

After all that Jungsu had told him about the town and the manor on the drive down to his future home, Seungcheol isn’t expecting the sheer amount of cats wandering around town.

But then again, as he thinks about it, even before he had known he was the Cat zodiac bearer for his generation, cats loved him a lot more compared to the other kids.

They get out of the car on the outskirts of town, Seungcheol watching as numerous cats wander up and scent-mark him and Jungsu, winding around their legs. He kneels down to give those that wander to him affectionate pets, and looks up at Jungsu.

“There’s so many of them,” Seungcheol says, awed. Jungsu nods, and kneels as well, smiling down at the cats coming up to him, and replies,” When people abandon their cats, they all somehow make their way here if they’re able to survive the journey here. We have a veterinarian living in town just for the animals that wander in.”

They’re quiet for a while, showing the cats affection, when Jungsu says quietly, “When it’s time for me to go, I’ll join them.” Seungcheol turns to look at Jungsu again. “What do you mean?” Seungcheol asks, hands stilling.

He resumes petting the cats when one of them head-butts his hands, and waits for the reply to come. “I told you that I would only have until you turned seventeen to tell you all the information you’d need, no? When the time comes, I’ll shift into a cat and I won’t change back. That’s how the curse works.

“Even now, some of these cats probably have the same markings our ancestors had, like this one,” Jungsu says, gesturing to the tawny cat currently curled around one of his legs with white patches on its body. “Those are the exact markings my mentor had when he shifted.”

Seungcheol examines the cat from where he is, absentmindedly petting the cats around him. “You’ll lose your humanity?” Seungcheol asks quietly. Jungsu nods in reply, “For all intents and purposes, I will be a cat. I won’t be able to understand human speech or actions beyond what a regular cat knows, but some of the emotional attachment will remain.

“This cat,” here he smiles down at the feline that used to be the mentor that had essentially brought him up, “keeps me company most days when I’m wandering around town.” Seungcheol keeps quiet, digesting that information as he continues showering the cats with affection.

“Now, I didn’t stop the car here to be emotional. Come here, Seungcheol-ah,” Jungsu gestures for him to stand by the older man, and he does so slowly, pulling himself away from a pure white cat and giving it a few last scratches along its jaw.

“Right in front of us is the boundary line, kid. The moment we step across that line you see in the ground, we’re trapped in it until I turn into a cat and you have to find your successor. The edge of the cage, essentially.”

Seungcheol stares at the faint line in the road. Once he takes a step past that line, he will be trapped until he is as old as Jungsu. What a startlingly scary thought. Even so, Seungcheol sucks in a breath and says, “No backing out, harabeoji. I’m not running away from fate.”

Jungsu sighs and turns back to the car. “Truer words never spoken, Seungcheol-ah. Well, that’s all I wanted to show you. Let’s get back in the car and we’ll drive straight back to the manor. It’s almost lunchtime, and I’m getting hungry.”

They get back in the car with some difficulty, herding the cats away from the doors. Jungsu drives slowly, not wanting to hit any of the cats, watching carefully as the felines dart away from the path of the rumbling vehicle.

At the slow speed Jungsu is going, Seungcheol shivers as he feels something pass through him, which Jungsu notices quickly. “That’ll be the boundary line.” is the quiet explanation Jungsu gives the younger, and Seungcheol nods his understanding.

He’d gone past the point of no returning, now. There was no longer a choice of turning around and leaving.

A few minutes later, they drive up to a large pair of old iron gates, a plaque with the words ‘Zodiac Manor’ embedded in one of the brick walls holding the gates, and Jungsu presses the intercom near the plaque after rolling down the windows. “I’m back,” he sings, and there is a click as the gates open.

Jungsu rolls the window back up, slowing down so Seungcheol can appreciate the manor and its surrounding lands in its full glory. Seungcheol gasps as the manor comes into sight, and Jungsu drives right up to the gravel driveway in front of the front porch, upon which great oak doors are already opening.

“Welcome to Zodiac Manor, Seungcheol-ah. Your new home,” Jungsu says grandly as he switches the engine off, smiling at Seungcheol’s shocked expression. It was one thing to hear it being described, but nothing beat looking at and admiring Zodiac Manor in its full glory.

“Now come on, grab your things and I’ll show you around!” Jungsu says, getting out of the car. Seungcheol takes a deep breath, centers himself, and does as he’s told.

Jihoon sighs as the door clicks shut behind Dongho, noting the late time. They had worked late into the night until both of them were satisfied with the track, and Dongho had promised to put Jihoon’s composer alias, Woozi, on the credits for the song.

Sighing, he stands to crack his back, sighing as a resounding crack echoes throughout the room. He cracks his knuckles and then his neck, before finally closing his laptop. He moves to the desk to tidy up, and sets off to the music room, where he remembers there being a notepad of empty scores he can use that is hopefully still there.

The manor is quiet as he wanders from the west wing to the main building and up the staircase to the second floor, where he opens the door to the music room quietly. The door opens with nary a sound, and the room brightens when he turns the lights on.

He moves in search of the notepad he remembers, pulling out random books that catch his attention on the shelves against the walls of the room and weaving through the numerous musical instruments strewn across the room.

The books in the music room are entirely about different composers and other random stuff to do with music, though the main bulk of the books remain in the east library wing, and Jihoon catches sight of the notepad a while later.

He pulls the notepad out from the shelf, and takes the book next to it as well, seeing as it looks interesting. Frowning, he notices a weird protrusion in the back of the shelf that he had taken the book and notepad from, and reaches in to feel it.

He applies some pressure and pushes the panel into the shelf, and jumps when he hears a click and rumbling. He turns, book and notepad placed absentmindedly on the piano, and stares at the doorway now present instead of the fireplace and mantel.

To: three years is up!!

say moo: guys, i think i found something.

-~-~-~-

4 January 2015, Sunday

Everyone is gone. I’m about to do it. I just finished setting things up.

If you’re reading this, any of you, go and fulfil your dream if you haven’t done so yet. Live your life the way you wanted to, the way I never could, stuck in this house and town like I was. Don’t worry about me, yeah? I won’t have to worry about anything again.

I love you all. You guys are my family. I hope, if nothing else, you guys remember that.

Goodbye.

[chapter one end]

two

#seventeen #svtcreations #17writers #17writer-net #svt fics #ot13 friendship #fanfic #chaptered

[moonmothmama]

And Bartleby Flies Off Into The Night

so it’s been a long ass time since the last DND game with 2/3 sibs, and since my brother was around, we videochatted with our sister at my kitchen table. it’d been such a long time since we played that he couldn’t find his sheet on the Turtle Wizard that accompanied my dwarf cleric and my sister’s halfling rogue (and Bartleby*, the baby owlbear cub that hatched and imprinted on said halfling) to the town we ended up in, so it turned out that Turt Wiz got ‘called away’ and had to leave. my brother decided to pick up Bartleby and wow, did shit get crazy.

*named for the baby rat creature Smiley Bone adopted

so anyway we fast forward two weeks, and we’ve been in this town, training this baby owlbear not to kill everything it sees, raising it, yadda yadda. and this is a little one horse town; the kind of place where adventurers pass through, not hang around two weeks with what they’re calling a Weird Bird, Nothing To See Here, Move Along, Sorry He Ate Your Cat

and one day we’re called up by the local magistrate, a haggard looking but obviously noble man who lives in a grand mansion, starkly different from the village’s Rustic Aesthetic. my dwarf recognizes the magistrate’s mansion as elvish stonework; it’s been there for a long time, and the town has pretty clearly been built around it.

so we walk in there, my sorta stoic red-bearded dwarf cleric, and an obviously hungover hobbit with an ungainly adolescent Abomination on a handmade leather leash, which upon entering the hall emits a weird cry “somewhere between a wolf’s howl and a horror movie,” that echoes horribly in this big vaulted room, and every fucking guard turns around and is shitting themselves, except the one guy who went to fetch us, who signals everybody not to shoot it.

and so we’re led in and the magistrate, who was in a meeting, hurries everyone out of the room to talk to us. and he’s spellbound by this terrifying creature, who is standing on his table eating a dead rat that my sister’s hobbit has tossed him, like a milk-bone tossed to a dog to bribe it to behave.

and he’s like. listen: i know exactly what this creature is, and it sure as shit isn’t a ‘Weird Bird.’ he proceeds to say he needs an Extermination done, and dumps half of a hefty bag of platinum and jewels on the table. he says that’s the down payment, and we get to keep it if we prove we killed even one of the things he wants dead.

turns out the veil is thin in this whole area, and every once in a while a great white stag will wander through, and it’s great for tourism, all the hunters come around, blah blah blah. but in his mansion, every night around midnight, these nasty little oily goblin-type dudes pop out of the shadows and make him miserable. no wonder he looks like shit all the time.

so we say yep, we’re on the job, and after a supply run for nets and traps, we come back and set up in the magistrate’s chambers.

my dwarf is hiding on the four poster bed with Bartleby, and the hobbit is hiding in the wardrobe, and right around midnight, we hear a whole fucking commotion. we set the traps in the doorways of the upper floor, and with his sharp little ears, the halfling hears that every single one of them has been set off.

there are three of these gross little oily dudes (that i forgot the name of now) in the room; a bigger one in the trap whose leg is Fuckt, and two smaller ones. the bigger one starts muttering something and we’re engulfed in an enchanted shadow that our darkvision (dwarf and bartleby already see in the dark, and hobbit has a magic sword from the tomb of sextus varius that grants the ability) cannot penetrate.

but since we’ve been training this owlbear, we give it the Kill command (which my sister decided is “go snackies!”) and it flies up out of the pocket of darkness and swoops down toward the little greasy things. Boggles!! they’re called boggles. i had to look it up.

right. so.

Bartleby misses at first, and there’s a little fumbling brawl, but the hobbit managed to get an arrow off before the darkness fell, and one of them is half dead. we suffer minor injuries, but then Bartleby swoops again, and this time he doesn’t miss. we hear a disgusting flesh ripping noise and some screams, and suddenly the shadow has lifted.

the big guy in the trap has been eviscerated and is hanging onto life with but a slender thread. he leaps onto another one and fucks him up too. Bartleby is covered in inky blood and gore, and he turns to my sister’s hobbit like, “look momma! Bartleby do good?” so she throws him another rat treat because he did indeed Do Good and he sets upon this feast of nastiness as we run off to check the other traps.

we get to the hallway and the traps, which we know have already been tripped, have been set again and are sitting in the doorways. i Do Not Like This. as i’m saying this to my halfling friend, two hands come out of the two opposing doorways and deposit two little lit bombs on the floor. we fail a dexterity check and take some damage from the bombs, then fail a perception check as we’re running from the explosion and run right into our own traps, which have been moved to the threshold of the next doorway.

by now i’m down to 9 hp and my sister is down to like four, so while her halfling uses his turn prying the trap off his leg, my dwarf decides to just leave it there and use his turn to heal the halfling, who goes back up to 9hp himself. we are standing in this silent, empty room, and since we don’t know where they’ve gone, we set Bartleby on them again (“Bartleby! Go snackies!”) and follow where he leads us. down the stairs to the ground floor. two of these nasty guys are waiting at the bottom of the stair, and two pop out from the doorway behind us. we fail another check and get stuck to the stairs by some nasty sticky goop and have a really ridiculous fight where everyone misses each other pretty much every time. halfing rogue drops his magic sword which is then picked up by one of these mucky dudes. him and another two fuck off, leaving us to fight off the last one while stuck to the floor.

we manage to kill him, though by now we’re worse for the wear. we go down the stairs to the long hall where we came in; it’s empty.

we give Bartleby the kill command one more time, and he flies off, crashing through a stained glass window to the grounds outside.

then the halfling hears the Magistrate screaming. he’s been dragged through a doorway by these goopy lil bastards, who at this point we have seen can materialize in any space that has a frame resembling a door with four sides.

we find two of the lil boggle bastards who fucked off, as well as the bloody, beaten magistrate. one is holding the halfling’s pilfered magic sword to his throat.

since he’s a rogue, he uses his bonus action to zip across the floor to the one threatening the magistrate, and kills his ass with a regular unmagical sword. eat shit, you sticky little fucker. halfling has regained his magic sword. 

then, my dwarf limp-runs toward the magistrate, still with this fucking trap on his leg, and kills the second one.

so. the entire mansion is littered with gross little corpses. we’ve earned ourselves a shit ton of money, a life debt from the most powerful person in this town, and cemented our reputation as a pair of crazy motherfuckers.

we look out the smashed window to see that Bartleby has swooped down on the last one, and is making a meal of it. by now he’s a terrifying, bloody mess. he looks like Death Incarnate, dripping with the coal-black viscera of several slain boggles. he gives a long, low howl-

and flies off into the night.

we each level up.

so that’s where we left off. a baby owl-bear cub, who for the first two weeks of it’s life we painstakingly trained not to kill everything, we set on a bunch of otherwordly goop creatures. kill this one! kill that one! kill anything you damn well please! Bartleby has had the best night of his wee little life. he’s flown off into the wilderness. we joke around about an eighties film style montage of him swooping down on a rabbit, then a sheep, then a cow, then some fucking dude riding down the road in a cart, and it fades to black just before he lands on him, and Don’t You Forget About Me by Simple Minds plays over the credits

after not playing for months, none of us could ask for a more epic return to our weekly game. holy fucking shit

#donjons and dagrons #shenanigans #family funtime #blogging on my blog #dnd night #so now the Quest To Find Bartleby begins

[kingdoms-of-fate]

Mordak

Setting:

Mordeadus - this is one of several campaign settings I run

Country:

Mordak

Population:

Human

Terrain:

The region is mostly dark pine forest.

The area is often dense with fog, that can rise from nowhere and often stays for days.

Within the woods, howls and groans can often be heard but rarely a source can be found. Note: The sounds are usually magical in nature, deriving from old curses and often emanate from nothing.

The sky is stuck in perpetual twilight and night, and the sun has not risen in known memory. Note: Again, this is magical in nature, and outside the borders of the nation the sun will still rise. Most likely a curse from a God or ancient demon.

Settlements:

Few cities exist as the region is mostly small towns and villages.

The roads within the settlements are lined with jack-o-lanterns as well as the outskirts of the towns and villages.

The faces on the jack-o-lanterns are believed to ward off spirits, the twisted faces of flames bringing fear to the supernatural. Because of this, jack-o-lanterns are carved daily and replaced as needed, each family unit responsible for the area around where they live. It is also not uncommon for homes built within he woods to line their property with  jack-o-lanterns.

Architecture Style:

Homes are built with black stone.

Buildings are never built with windows as the people of Mordak believe leaving holes in a building will invite evil spirits and the fact that there is no sunlight leaves little point.

Shelves are cut into the outside walls and lined with candles. Due to the constant dark, the light is meant to scare away the dark. The people of Mordak believe once true darkness descends on them, it will never leave.

The walls on the outside of the houses will often be thick with old wax left on as the people Mordak believe it is good luck since the wax has been blessed with light.

Iinside, the homes are covered in candles, dozens filling every room, and fires roaring at all times in the hearth. The people of Mordak never for a moment let the dark overtake them. Note 1: Consider most inhabitants having a phobia of the dark. Note 2: If at anytime a player is caught in true darkness, consider having ghosts or undead start manifesting.

Clothing Style:

The people wear mostly black wolf or rabbit furs gathered from the woods.

Because of the dangers of the dark, every citizen of Mordak travels with a bandolier of candles across their chest and many more in pockets, belts or sacks throughout their body

Religion:

There is no central religion as the people are more into superstition than Gods.

Black cats are bad luck. Mirrors can trap and release souls and most keep trinkets of cold iron in their pockets or as necklaces.

Government:

Lead by a monarchy that has little control outside their city, each town or village is instead controlled by an elder or a powerful baron.

The leadership is indifferent and usually bands together for survival than for anything benevolent.

Economy:

The region is mostly poor and struggling with little in the way of nobles and powerful merchants.

They use standard coin as their currency.

Their main import is animal fat to make candle wax; being such a necessity it is not uncommon for towns to sell off loved ones or even give up their remaining food for wax, preferring to starve than face the dark. Because of this, merchants across the borders will often overcharge for animal fat with Mordak having little option other than to pay.

Issues:

The hags

They are more spirit than physical, capable of flying, passing through solid surfaces and materializing at will. Wearing tattered flowing rags, they are gangly female forms with long black hair, white faces and large black eyes. Standing 8 feet tall, they have oversized fingers and toes. They feast on the souls of the living, flying through the pine forests far from the light of candles and jack-o-lanterns. They will often wait underground and drag their victims into the dirt, suffocating them before absorbing their essence, leaving only a dry withered corpse. Note: When figuring out the hags' stats, they are considered ghosts or wraiths.

The witch covens

Deep in the pine woods, living within overgrown cottages are covens of witches from 1 or 2 to dozens. They are female, their bodies aged and twisted, their faces wrinkled with crooked noses and skin patches with hairy moles. Being spellcasters, they mostly use illusion and charm spells to lure victims to their layer with a disguise of a good looking man or women in distress, then using their charm to seduce the victim. Once brought to their lair, the witches descend upon the victims like wilds dogs, eating their flesh while the person is still alive, then boil down their fats and organs into spells or wine. Their cottages are often decorated with bones, their walls layered with dried skins and stinks of rot. In the center of every cottage is the iron cauldron where the witches cook, create potions and wine. Some using their disguise will wander into towns and sell their potions or wine – healing, flight, etc, - in exchange for things they may need or to eye new victims. Unfortunately for the buyer, it isn't till too late do they realize what they have been drinking. Note 1: The drinks or potion will work as described -healing, flight, etc, despite its disgusting and macabre ingredients. Note 2: When figuring out the witches' stats, they are considered undead human spellcasters.

Pumpkin heads

Roaming the pine woods are packs of leathery humanoid creature with jack-o-lanterns heads. They can run on all fours and will often do so howling and growling form their pumpkin heads. They are always hostile, almost mindless,  attacking with sharp claws, breathing fire from their pumpkin head or biting with bone like teeth growing within its pumpkin head mouth. Considered demons, their numbers are small, from only a couple to now more than a dozen, but increase as it gets closer to a full moon till the countryside can be filled with 1000s. During the full moon, most people in settlements hide barricaded within their homes and all life stops while the moon begins to wane. No one knows where they come from or why the moon plays an effect, they just know the saying, “When the sky is bright, get out of sight, when the woods groan, hide in your home.” Note 1: The pumpkin heads are demons and come from deep in the earth, drawn to the magical nature of the moon only to return back to the earth to slumber during the darker nights. Note 2: When figuring out stats for a pumpkin head, they are considered demons. With the more powerful ones being larger and older than the ones with lesser stats.

The dark farmsteads

A large region Mordak's is covered by an area known as the dark farmstead. This was a region of rich farmland long ago before an unknown ancient blight cursed the grounds. Now the farms long since abandoned are in a state of perpetual decay. Old corn is always withered and dry, never growing, never dying. Undead pigs, cows, horses still graze the fields and live within dilapidated stables. Homes and windmills have fallen into disrepair but never collapsing. The wood has turned black and rotting, doors are rusted closed and vines and moss often net entire buildings. Animated scarecrows wonder the fields, killing anyone who enters, then uses the dead as feed for the undead livestock. Note 1: When figuring out stats for an animated scarecrow, they are considered golems with only two orders: kill all who enter, feed the remains to the animals. Note2: When figuring out stats for the undead animals, they are considered zombies. No one is sure why the area is in a state of decay or when it happened, but some believe it is an undead God slumbering beneath the once fertile fields or that the Gods have forsaken the place all together with the very lands itself being cursed to be undead.

The grave fields

Near the northern borders of the country exist long stretches of graveyards some centuries old. 10s to 100s or 1000s of graves dot the area and are rumored to be from a massive war once fought on the continent, although little record can be found in history. Note: The graves are from a massive war with most records being destroyed long ago. Many graves are worn and long since pillaged of their valuables with others still unopened, holding enormous tombs consisting of entire dungeons going deep into the earth. The area is extremely magical, flowing with natural necromatic energies and anything that dies in the region, soon comes back as undead. Because of the energies, massive amounts zombies are always rising from the graves, from a few dozens to hordes in the upper 1000s. Usually the zombie mingle mindless in the northern border, seldom leaving their gravesite, but when a horde forms, they begin to wander. Some make their way across the border, becoming someone else's problem, while others go south, wiping out entire settlements of Mordak with every thrust. Although effort has been put in place to dug up the graves and burn the dead, little has changed and every few months to years hordes continue to rise. Every horde has been dealt with so far, but at a cost and every generation of Mordak is smaller than the one before it with some believing there is only a generation or 2 left before they can no longer stem the tide. In addition to the zombie swarms, necromancy cults have come to the area, taking advantage of the natural necromantic energies that linger within the graves. Hoping to gain favor with their particular Gods, some come for power, some to cause chaos, but all have exacerbated the problem by enriching and strengthening the necromantic energies in the area, causing the undead to rise in accelerated numbers. Now what was once a rare occurrence has become common with some necromancers reporting that certain cemeteries have an almost unstoppable flow of undead rising from graves. Note: While the hordes will not be the only problem a character may face while in Mordak, the zombie swarms should always be at the forefront of their survival, a dark cloud always looming.

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[dromjournal]

Autumn 2018

I’m a man, middle aged, with a child about 7-9 years old. It’s before the industrialization. We’re walking by a farm/company which are renovating houses and filling the walls with sawdust for isolation. I talk to the head of the company, and he tells me it’s the best isolation there is according to all recent studies in your typical happy go lucky businessman-voice. He is also my landlord, kinda, and I live on a small neighboring farm which I have arrendated for many many years and I have made it pretty good for myself. He is rich and powerful though he isn’t power-grabbing or cruel, but he does see things very black or white. (To quote Mr Darcy himself: My good opinion once lost is lost forever.) My child finds a hutch with rabbits that he feeds some grass through the “fence”, and I notice it’s a small space for such large rabbits (they seem pretty young). I think they’re probably meat rabbits, which makes my child upset because he doesn’t want them to be killed. I tell him he can have ONE to take home/save, and I’m sure it will be fine because there is a lot of them. I open the cage and start checking the gender of the rabbits, because I think it’s more likely the does will be kept alive than the bucks, so I think it makes most sense to pick a buck. There’s only two of them so the kid picks one, though a little sad, and I tell them to go home. But then before I can close the cage a dog looking like a jack russel comes and fast as lightning gets into the cage, scooping up most of the rabbits into it’s mouth (due to dream logic they are now really really tiny) and runs away. I chase after it, and makes it drop the rabbits, but they’re all dead. The owner then comes around with a couple of other guys and notices, get really upset, I tell him I saw the dogs with the rabbits and chased after it. The cage had been overturned (which it had been when the dog jumped in it). It’s a lie, and I can tell he’s suspicious because they question that the dog could flip the cage from the outside, but he doesn’t have any proof of either so he agrees to what I says.

I know we won’t be allowed there anymore. The worker mentions a house/land I semi-recently inherited from a relative at the very north of the country, a long way even by car or train in modern times but a LOONG way to travel without them. I have never seen the place and I know for sure it’s not as great of a farmers land as I got here and mostly forest and cold, but it’s the only choice we got. I go check on the animals and we have a bunch of cows and pigs with piglets and chickens. We got three good draft horses. I’m not sure how we’re supposed to bring them all, but we can’t just leave them to die. I pick up two piglets from their mothers that both lie on their side inside a barn like they are sleeping and bring them outside for the first time, let them run around and jump and have fun. When I’m about to put them back though I don’t know which one is which so I put them down hoping it’ll be fine. But the mama pig gets angry at having a baby that’s not hers, and start squealing angrily and jumping and so does the other pig because of it. They are kinda fighting there and I can’t get inside to make them stop because they are large animals and well, I can’t just get in between. But when they settle down they have trampled the piglets and they are both dead. I feel like hope is lost. I leave, but there is some pigs that also get out because idk if something happened during the fight and some door opened maybe. A man who is a worker at our farm since forever, more or less family, is there. I tell him to slaughter the pigs that got out because I am completely down in the dopes and I don’t know how we’re gonna take them with us anyway. He doesn’t want to but agrees if he get like half the money or something. I agree, i don’t really care either way. I know we have to leave soon because the landlord is gonna come and he’s gonna take revenge. He’s not going to be merciful. We pack a carriage with horses and some cows and stuff trailing behind and start moving, but we don’t get far before we’re suddenly attacked by the landlord and several men with weapons. Our carriage is tipped and (for some reason) our animals felt in the fields are attacked/killed by rhinos. Knowing we have no chance, the older men try to give something to the child, hide him under something and tell him to close his eyes (as I swift pov to the boy) and everything goes black.

I am told a story about a man on Iceland who sold tobacco. He was the only person on the island who got tobacco so he have made a lot of money, and he also have huge chunks of farmland which he arrends to the townsfolk. But with time he turns greedy and doubles the prize of the tobacco  to something the modest people of the town can’t possibly afford. They instead all decide to work through their addiction and stop using tobacco. When he no longer get any customers, the man gets angry and tries to threaten people into buying his tobacco or he will not let them hire the fields, but they don’t have the money either way so what happens is his land isn’t farmed and everyone else have saved every possible piece of food for the winter, as usual, but he have always relied on getting a part of the food from the farmers on his land that now have given nothing - all he got is some cans with herring and it’s starting to get cold. He still have money but it’s useless, as no one will sell their food they themselves need to him. So he freeze-starve to death due to his own greed and stupidity.

I “wake up” outside the mans old cottage, and I can just about see the town from there placed in the middle of a ravine. The landscape as far as I can see is barren and very tundra-like. It’s autumn or early spring, and it’s getting dark out as I start walking towards town. I am a late teenager, a girl I think. It’s not a long trek, especially since it’s downhill, but when I get there it mostly seems pretty much everyone is inside already. Which I can’t blame them for, since it’s cold and dark. There is light in the windows and one place seems to be a bar or something else with party going on inside. There is a strict looking police woman standing outside talking to some people, and I hide in the shadows and between people. It’s not that anyone can tell by just looking at me but I also know that somehow, there is this kind of magic I have and there is people that doesn’t like that and as such I am technically an outlaw. I notice someone walking around on the rooftops, so I also climb up there, balancing at the top of the triangle roof with not too much problem. The person up there swiftly moves and stop me from stepping on the middle tile (with a nail in) as that nail (possibly because it’s metal?) is a trap for magic beings. It would diminish our power and alert them of our presence right away. He leads me from the houses up on the top of the cliff, and there is a rabbit sized hole in the mountain which is his home apparently. He can shapeshift. I can’t, so, shucks.

However, in the town below there is the police woman and someone else and they speak some riddles. The hole is way too small for me, so I sit outside and listen to them coming up with some to amuse myself. After they have figured all theirs out, I loudly tell them another riddle thinking it was just for fun. Instead the police woman’s face snaps towards me as they notice me, and she starts climbing up some stairs to get me/kill me? I’m a good climber tho so I just start running over the mountain. Fuckn rude.

She is getting closer though, more athletic than I am.  But then the other magic person appears from (my perspective) out of nowhere to help me, in the shape of a yappy small pomeranian dog. However as him and the police woman see each other they stop dead in their tracks. Then somehow it turns out they are soul mates. (And it’s that he’s a dog here, specifically, because she’s very much aromantic. Like. They are soulmates but not romantic.) And…. So she doesn’t care about me anymore. Neither of them do. I move back to the hole, and somehow I can now figure out how to get inside it.

And what happens is I once again wake up somewhere else, as someone else. There is a train transporting both humans and cargo in different carriages. I am an adult woman, together with another adult woman who is my friend and a little kid who is my sister or her sister, I’m not sure. It’s modern day. We sneak on board somehow first at the cargo part then through a window and hide in the back with all the luggage, before noticing there is actually some extra seats there. I however move a bit too close and some rude middle aged lady of course decide we are there illegally (well we are but you know still rude, you don’t know our story) and tell someone that come to check everyone’s tickets. The ones in the back are fine, we fake it somehow, it’s just me with a clearly fake ticket. I start talking to distract him and pretend to search for the ticket, but then the train stops out of nowhere and he leaves to go check what is going on.

We look outside. A horse have fallen onto the tracks from (presumably) having escaped from close by. The tracks have got some serious voltage running though them for some reason, and the horse have been electrocuted by stepping on them. If the train hadn’t stopped because of the horse, we’d all have been killed. We get to go outside to the side of the road, where they call for some kind of help. Personally I hitch a ride with a truck I believe, but that causes everything to go black and switch again.

I am a girl again, early teens. I am back on a train. This train looks like the ones you have in the metro rather than go across the country, with a couple people seated a bit of everywhere. I am a witch, people call me so - an older woman ask me to help her son or grandson idk, he have had a disease of the throat and  become mute. I want to help but the magic is just rarely really what you want, it’s trickster-y and I don’t know how to use it properly either way. I manage to give him his voice back, but in exchange the magic exchange his eyes for buttons like in Coraline. The old woman get angry, and the kid is upset, because it was easier being mute than blind. I didn’t mean to have it happen, but now all the people in the train are rioting against me and I once again switch.

I’m a young woman, late teens or early 20s. It’s modern day and it’s a big town, but it feels off somehow and kind of uncanny valley. It’s normal, but it’s not. I feel like I have to keep looking over my shoulder. I find a nursery home and it’s possibly the first place I see people entering so I go inside too, and notice that in between all the elderly there is a tough looking teenage girl with purple hair in a wheelchair acting like one of them. I question what she is doing there, but she gets angry. None of the old people want to acknowledge it, they just kinda ignore what I’m saying like they are afraid to talk about it. I ask one old man very detailed questions to get him to see that she is much younger, but when he actually does seem to realize she stands up and starts hitting him with a wooden stick so he fall down. I feel like something is too off and get the hell out of there, finding my way back to a train station to go “home”. (I am constantly on the move towards somewhere here but I can’t say where this home is) It’s pretty easy to find as it’s in the middle of the city, not to mention very large and almost looks like a roller coaster rather than train tracks. There is several levels. I get on a train, and there is many other people in it. To my D: D: I notice also the purple haired girl in the wheelchair, though it doesn’t seem to be voluntarily as she looks grumpy as ever. The people in this wagon have been invited and they are going on a trip. They’re all pretty young, except two adult people that is the chaperones I guess. The train starts moving, but not for long until it stops out of nowhere, doors opening and suddenly there is these metal bars keeping some people, including me and the person next to me, stuck to their seats. One of the chaperones leaves through the doors, going to find out what is going on. But as soon as they’re out, the door slams shut and the other chaperons stands up and picks a gun out of his pocket. People start to panic, but he explains that this is just a trap and the metal bar things? They catch magic people. The ones that are stuck are magic people and he’s here to kill them only.

The person next to me start screaming bloody murder in anger, and I use the time to use my own magic to create my own gun. I have started learning somewhat how you do it. I also haveno idea how to use it, so I know I’m only buying us time somehow. The guy next to me is shot in the head, and I’m lucky I’m kinda hidden behind some people so I am not next as he start picking off people. And I manage to get out of the metal bindings, but I don’t know how to get away - but the purple haired girl was seated behind me and she is ALSO one of the magics, and she asks for the gun and I give it to her because I’m panicking and I don’t know what to do. She does do, as she take it and shoot the Chaperone’s gun into a million pieces and I think he gets knocked out. The doors open again without him doing whatever he did, and I tell the girl we gotta go, leave. But she is refusing, since she can’t take the chair out as it’s stuck. I tell her she doesn’t even actually need the chair, she can use the magic to move herself. She still claims she can’t though, in a way that is clearly 100% being a shithead that doesn’t want to agree with me and not her actually being honest about it, so I think I end up figuring we don’t have the time and throw her like, onto my back and starts running off instead. She gets really mad because that seems to be her thing. When I let her down on her insistence she have no trouble and no magic to walk at all, and I ask wtf her issue is pretending to be elderly and disabled. I don’t get an answer.

As my sense of magic grows stronger and we get closer to a city again I start noticing we leave some kind of magic residue trail in the air behind us, like colors. I realize we might also be followed through those and it explains how some of these people hunting knew to go after us. I come up with some probably way too elaborate plan tbh to throw anyone following us off. I ask the other girl to split up and just run to the left at what looks like a lot of tall apartment buildings and then hide, expecting fully for this guy to go after me for some reason that had either to do with thinking the other girl would be much easier to capture so it’d be better to find me first, or that I’d be easier so they’d go catch me first. Either way it was all hanging on them going after me and not her. I go to something that might be an old train station, but it’s more a small city official office building by now and the trains placed in the tunnel in the back are just for show. Either way I sneak through to the back where I like, walk on top of the train and then jump up to a second level, sneaking through a window into a storage, then through a window in that room into an office. By then I have created some kind of illusion which is covering me, so none of the workers can actually see me. I think they might be seeing another employee I had briefly seen on my way in. I walk through towards the exit, but I spot the guy (The Chaperone guy) coming just before I step into the lobby and he’s walking through, following my trail like I expected. As soon as he is out of sight I book it, knowing he’s gonna take some time climbing around inside to follow me but he is none the less close, and go where I told the other girl to wait.

She is outside an apartment building by some mountain, not hard to find, and it’s starting to snow. It’s getting dark and we won’t be able to keep running like this. I use my magic once again now to steal a car parked in front of the house - not the nicest one I could find, one that wouldn’t make people look twice. Also pretty sure I specifically look for one that is manual because shit I can’t drive. I feel a bit bad about it because this is not some rich people neighborhood. The girl get in the passenger seat, and I drive away finding my way to a bigger road. The car moves too fast for our trail to be seen, and so we loose anyone tracking us.

I sigh in relief, and keeps driving towards home.

[sorayahigashikata]

Chapter 49: "HOT GIRLS NOW."

#Paula reads SBR #Chapter 49 #I still can't help but find Hot Pants kind of shady #SCARLET NO #JUST NO #Steel Ball Run spoilers #Part 7 spoilers