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justpostsyeet · 2 days

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A Little Hope

Inspired by this post

Lord Círdan was weary. The court proceedings were exhausting. The ongoing dispute over constructing a bridge had been dragging on for weeks. It was beginning to fray his nerves. Finally, as the court session concluded, he decided to wander along the seashore. A gentle breeze swept through, and the sun was descending, casting a warm glow. Lord Círdan ambled along the coastline when he heard a faint cry. The cry was weak, resembling the distress of a wounded creature. Knowing that injured sea gulls were not uncommon, he scanned the area but found nothing.

Focusing intently, he pinpointed the source of the sound, which seemed to emanate from among the rocky terrain near the beach. Climbing carefully over the rugged rocks, he eventually discovered a white bundle. It was unmistakably not a sea gull. Drawing closer, he discerned that the cries belonged to a baby. He hurried towards the whimpering bundle. There was an elfling trapped between two rocks. The thin white fabric barely offering any protection. Sea water lapped at the helpless infant. Exposed to the elements, the harsh weather battered him relentlessly. His delicate navel, still swollen and raw, indicated that he had entered the world no more than a few moons ago. Though being an infant, he appeared incredibly tiny, his feeble cry barely audible amidst the sound of crashing waves. It seemed as though his voice was being drowned out, perhaps due to the relentless splashing of seawater on him.

Without hesitation, Lord Círdan swiftly lifted the elfling, enveloping him in his cloak to shield him from the biting cold. Drawing the baby close to his chest, he could feel the chill emanating from the tiny body, as if it were on the verge of freezing. Holding him gently, Círdan cradled the elfling, rubbing his back in an attempt to infuse some warmth into the almost frozen child. With a sense of urgency, Círdan hastened back to the castle, the elfling's fragile form nestled securely in his arms. As they journeyed back to the castle, the elfling grew eerily silent in Lord Círdan's arms. Trying not to dwell on the ominous silence, Círdan focused on the fact that the elfling seemed to be growing warmer, and he could still detect faint signs of life—a sporadic heartbeat that gave him hope amidst the uncertainty of the situation.

Arriving at the castle gate, Círdan wasted no time, urgently instructing his guards to summon the healer and maids to prepare a warm, comfortable room with plenty of blankets. Despite his efforts, the elfling remained too cold for Círdan's comfort. With gentle hands, he cleansed the baby with warm water, washing away the remnants of sea water that clung to his fragile form. Wrapping the elfling snugly in a soft blanket, Círdan anxiously awaited the arrival of the healers. Though the baby lay silent, devoid of any cries, faint movements reassured Círdan that there was still a spark of life within him. The elfling's frail body trembled with each passing moment, his shivers punctuated by moments of eerie silence. Lord Círdan held him close, offering what comfort he could provide to him. As he cradled the infant, Círdan couldn't fathom how anyone could commit such a callous act against an elfling, especially one so young. Barely a week old, the baby had not simply been abandoned, he had been left in a desolate location, devoid of any hope for survival. If he had been abandoned in a more accessible place perhaps someone could have found him and offered aid.

Suppressing his rising anger, Círdan resolved to uncover the reasons behind this act. There had to be some explanation, some motive driving such cruelty. Determined to seek justice for the helpless elfling, he vowed to unravel the mystery surrounding his abandonment and ensure that those responsible would be held accountable. Rondir, the healer arrived swiftly and gently took the baby from Lord Círdan's arms, conducting a thorough examination. With each movement, the healer's expression grew increasingly somber. Lord Círdan could now discern the unhealthy pallor of the elfling's skin—a disturbing shade of red, with hints of blue tinting his fingers and toes, a detail he had failed to notice earlier. His heart clenched with worry as the healer suddenly flipped the child over, administering chest compressions and abdominal pressure. Lord Círdan's breath caught at the seeming brutality of the procedure, but he trusted in the healer's expertise. After a few tense moments, seawater began to trickle out from the elfling's mouth and nose, a troubling indication of the ordeal the little life had to endured.

As the healer glanced up at Lord Círdan, their eyes meeting in silent acknowledgment of the gravity of the situation. Rondir spoke softly, voice laden with concern. "My Lord," he began, "the condition of this child is dire. He is gravely ill, and his body bears the brunt of his harrowing ordeal."

Lord Círdan listened intently, his heart heavy with apprehension.

"The exposure to the sea water has chilled him to the bone," the healer continued, "and his senses have been greatly affected. His fever rages unchecked, and numerous infections have taken hold, ravaging his fragile form. His vital organs has been exposed to sea water and has been corroded."

Lord Círdan's brows furrowed in distress as he absorbed the bleak prognosis.

"The child's health hangs by a thread," the healer added solemnly, "Without intensive care and unwavering attention, he may succumb to his illnesses at any moment."

Círdan seem to be thinking and said firmly, "Do whatever to save the elfling. Spare no efforts. This one should live."

The Healer nodded and began to take care of the tiny infant. Whereas Círdan moved out. Old memories suddenly came to him and he felt a need to get out. He moved to the castle garden. For some reason the images of his dead son kept flashing. He perished in battle against Sauron and was thrown into the sea. When he was found he was just a bloated mess of mangled flesh. He couldn't help but think again and again "How could someone just leave such precious gift of Eru to die such horrible death?"

Tears welled up in Lord Círdan's eyes. He could scarcely recognize his own child, save for the familiar emblems on the armor and the ring that adorned his broken form. The injuries inflicted upon his son had been brutal, his body ravaged and bloated by the sea water that had seeped into his wounds. Many nights had passed since then, each one marked by tears shed for his lost son and his departed wife, who had succumbed to grief not long after. Lord Círdan had laid them both to rest and became a solitary figure in the vast expanse of Middle-earth. The sight of the abandoned infant stirred a torrent of emotions within Lord Círdan, prompting him to ponder the depths of cruelty that could drive a parent to forsake their own flesh and blood. He had cherished every moment with his son, from infancy to adulthood, holding onto mementos and memories with unwavering devotion. He had missed him so dearly that only time he was almost tempted by the dark side was when Sauron offered to reunite him with his son. Though he had resisted, the allure of seeing his son again had been a powerful temptation, a fleeting respite from the unrelenting grief that haunted him.

Hour by hour, Lord Círdan received reports on the infant's condition, his heart heavy with concern. Whenever he found a moment of respite from his duties, he would hasten to the crib where the elfling lay, unwilling to leave him alone for even a moment. The elfling's fragility was evident. The healer's assessments painted a grim picture: the elfling struggled to perceive the world around him, his senses dulled by illness and injury. His delicate skin bore the marks of infection, a result of his harsh exposure to nature. The damage caused by the sea water had infiltrated his organs, leaving them compromised and vulnerable. Even his navel, which was yet to recover from being disconnected from his mother, had become a site of infection. The healer's revelation about the elfling's undernourished mother only deepened his resolve to see the child through this ordeal. With each passing day, he offered prayers to Eru, beseeching the divine to grant the elfling the strength to endure. As Lord Círdan kept vigil over the infant, tending to his needs with unwavering dedication, he couldn't help but marvel at the resilience of this tiny being.

In moments of reflection, he pondered the appropriateness of calling the elfling simply "elfling." It seemed too crude a label for such a precious life. It was then that he learned that healers caring for the infant had taken to calling him Êl. The name resonated with Lord Círdan, a fitting tribute to the bright spark of resilience that shone within the fragile elfling. "Yes," he thought to himself, "Êl, a name worthy of his strength and resilience.

~•~•~•~•~•~

Amidst his vigil and his duties at court, Lord Círdan also pursued a clandestine investigation. He was determined to uncover the truth behind the abandoned baby.After much investigation, Lord Círdan uncovered the identity of the abandoned infant's parents: the wife of the revenue collector, Arion. They were a couple blessed with numerous children, and Êl was intended to be their seventh. As the pieces of the puzzle fell into place, Lord Círdan's gaze hardened upon Arion, the revenue collector whose wife had borne the abandoned child. The revelation stirred a simmering anger within him, and he confronted Arion with a steely resolve.

Arion's response was swift. "I swear, my lord, I knew nothing of this child," he insisted, his tone pleading.

Lord Círdan's gaze narrowed. "The evidence suggests otherwise," he countered. "Witnesses saw you near the shore just days before the infant was discovered."

Arion's expression faltered. His eyes betrayed a flicker of guilt. Yet Arion vehemently protested his innocence, Lord Círdan's frustration mounted, his patience wearing thin. "My Lord, I would have known if my wife was pregnant," Arion insisted, his voice tinged with desperation. "I didn't know she was pregnant. She might have done something. And how can you be so sure that it's my child? Was there any evidence to prove it?"

Lord Círdan's jaw clenched as he struggled to contain his anger. "Impossible," he retorted through gritted teeth. "How could you not notice your wife's pregnancy?"

Arion's reply was swift. "I do not lie to you, my Lord," he maintained. Lord Círdan fixed him with a penetrating stare. "Are you certain? Let me repeat myself. The reports indicate that sea guards spotted you wandering near the shore just days before the child was found."

Arion attempted to deflect, his tone defensive. "Anyone can wander near the sea shore to calm their mind."

Lord Círdan's expression hardened. "Yes, they can," his voice icy with resolve, "but none would bribe a sea guard."

Arion's e,pression changed. Blood drained out of his face. His gaze darted to Lord Círdan, searching for some semblance of understanding. "My Lord, there were already too many children," he pleaded, his voice quivering with emotion. "And she didn't tell me she was pregnant again until it was too late. As her husband, I felt compelled to keep her secret and bribe a healer. But you know that was to be our seventh child. Parents of seven children are not looked upon favorably."

He glanced up at Lord Círdan, hoping to find agreement, but was met with a stony silence.

"You know what I mean, my Lord," Arion pressed on, desperation creeping into his voice. "Seven sons... the seventh son..."

Still, Lord Círdan remained silent, his expression unreadable.

Growing increasingly anxious, Arion continued to plead for mercy. "My Lord, I swear she tempted me. She said these things to me. She confessed that she had hidden the pregnancy out of fear of bearing seven sons and wished the child would die in the womb. But the pest persisted. So I had to get rid of it. She told me to do it."

As the tension in the room reached its peak, Lord Círdan finally broke his silence. "Summon his wife," he commanded, his voice cold and resolute. Arion's eyes widened in alarm, a strangled cry escaping his lips. "No, my Lord, please! She's tired and sick," he pleaded, but Lord Círdan remained unmoved, his gaze fixed on his trembling subject. Lord Círdan struggled to maintain his composure, his fury simmering beneath the surface as he listened to Arion's feeble excuses.

"Feanor may have had seven sons, but that does not excuse your actions," Lord Círdan finally spoke, his voice laced with disdain. "Abandoning a child out of fear of societal judgment is a cowardly act, unworthy of any elf."

Arion cowered before Lord Círdan's righteous indignation, his earlier bravado crumbling under the weight of his lord's condemnation. Lord Círdan observed Meluwen's arrival with a mixture of anticipation and apprehension, her demeanor betraying the weight of guilt and desperation. Without preamble or greeting, she launched into her confession, her words laden with a sense of urgency.

"My Lord, we have done nothing wrong," Meluwen began, "Our son was deemed cursed even before his birth, foretold by a shaman. Despite our efforts to protect him, his soul seemed to attract only misfortune. Thus, we made the heartbreaking decision to abandon him near the sea, entrusting his fate to Ulmo in the hopes that he would care for the darkened soul. I swear, the rest I have nothing to do with."

Lord Círdan listened in disbelief as Arion's wife, Meluwen, offered a new explanation for their actions, one filled with superstition and desperation. Lord Círdan fought to contain his incredulity. "At least you should have sorted out your stories," he remarked dryly, his tone laced with skepticism. Meluwen turned to Arion, her confusion evident in her gaze. Arion, unable to meet her eyes, could only bow his head in shame, knowing that their deception had been exposed. Lord Círdan's voice cut through the tension once more, his patience worn thin. "Alright, speak up. The truth. There is no need to lie anymore," he demanded, his gaze piercing as he awaited their confession. Meluwen took a deep breath, her voice trembling with emotion as she began to speak. "We didn't want any more children," she confessed, "My husband made it clear that if there were any more children, he would leave me."

"Well, it's your fault for popping out child after child," Arion lashed out, his tone filled with bitterness. Meluwen's anger flared in response. "How can I help it?" she shot back, her voice rising with indignation. "You could spend more time away from me, you perverted bastard! You think being pregnant is easy? Since our first child, I've been wishing they would all just die so I could live in peace!"

Arion's rebuttal was equally scathing. "Ha! As if you do all the work," he sneered. "Servants run around you, yet you forgot to feed the children when the cooks were away."

Meluwen's voice rose to a crescendo as she continued to vent her frustrations. "If you cared, you would have at least held them once," she accused, her words ringing with accusation. Lord Círdan's patience finally reached its limit as their argument spiraled out of control. "Enough!" he boomed, his voice cutting through the heated exchange. "Take them away, and check on their children."

With a firm command, he directed his attendants to remove Meluwen and Arion from his presence, his heart heavy with sorrow for the children caught in the midst of their parents' callousness. Lord Círdan paced the hall, his mind consumed with a tumult of emotions. He struggled to quell the rising tide of anger and disappointment that threatened to overwhelm him.As he waited for the reports on their children to come in, Lord Círdan's thoughts turned to the wider implications of Arion and Meluwen's actions. How could such callous individuals live within his haven, among his people? The realization that he had failed to protect his young, helpless subjects from the cruelty of their own kin weighed heavily upon him.

Finally a report came to him. The news only served to deepen his sense of dismay. Four of their children had already reached adulthood and had chosen to make lives of their own, far removed from the influence of their parents. Three had sought refuge in the sanctuary of Lothlórien and Rivendell. While the fourth one had found solace in the role of a librarian on the outskirts of the Grey Havens. Yet, it was the fate of the two youngest children that struck Lord Círdan the hardest. At ages 140 and 170, they had been left in the care of their grandparents, where they appeared to have found happiness and stability. Their grandparents were poor shoemakers yet they managed to provide for both of them. The contrast between their fate and that of their abandoned sibling only served to underscore the cruelty of Arion and Meluwen's decision. Lord Círdan's fists clenched at his sides as he grappled with the knowledge that Arion and Meluwen had been surrounded by elves who could have readily taken in their child, yet they had chosen to abandon him to his fate. It was a betrayal that cut to the core of his beliefs in compassion and justice, leaving him with a sense of bitter regret and resolve to ensure that such injustice would not go unpunished. He almost threw the report on table, scaring the servant. He angrily left the room trying to calm himself down. His feet wandered amongst the halls till he absentmindedly reached the infirmary.

Lord Círdan's heart softened as he beheld the sleeping form of Êl in the crib. His peacefull face was like a small sliver of peace amidst the turmoil of the day. Gently, he lifted the infant into his arms, cradling him close as he marveled at the subtle improvements in the child's condition. Êl's skin, once inflamed and raw, now bore the faint semblance of elven complexion. His eyes, though still weary, no longer held the same depths of exhaustion. Lord Círdan dared to hope for brighter days ahead. Êl's inability to open his eyes or respond to sound after eleven days in the infirmary was a cause for concern. It seemed like he might have permanently lost his senses. Feeding Êl had proven to be another obstacle . His injured organs struggled to process milk and water without causing him to vomit. In the initial days, the medical staff had resorted to regular chest compressions to aid his breathing, a painful process that left him in distress. Despite their efforts to comfort him, there was little they could do to ease his suffering. As Lord Círdan brushed his cheek, Êl stirred, a faint murmur escaping his lips in response to the gentle touch. It was a small but significant victory. It was a evidence that the child was beginning to respond to the world around him. Though his progress was slow and tentative, each step forward filled Lord Círdan with a renewed sense of determination and hope. As Lord Círdan cradled Êl in his arms, a sense of awe and wonder washed over him as he gazed into the child's eyes. It felt like a miracle, seeing Êl stare back at him. His eyes open and unfocused but nonetheless filled with a glimmer of life. Without pausing, Lord Círdan called for Rondir, the healer who had been tirelessly caring for Êl since the beginning.

Rondir's smile spoke volumes. With gentle hands, Rondir carefully examined Êl's senses, noting each small movement and reaction with keen interest. To their surprise, as Rondir laid Êl down, the infant attempted to turn his head as if searching for Lord Círdan's comforting presence. A smile tugged at Lord Círdan's lips, his heart swelling with joy at the sight. As Rondir continued to assess Êl's remaining senses, it became apparent that while the child still did not respond to sound, his ability to open his eyes marked a significant milestone in his recovery. Though there were undoubtedly many challenges still ahead, Lord Círdan found solace in the knowledge that Êl was making progress, step by step, towards a brighter future.

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

As Lord Círdan hugged Êl close, he couldn't help but marvel at the remarkable transformation the child had undergone in just five months. Though still fragile, Êl had grown significantly in size, a testament to his resilience and the dedicated care he had received. Notably, he was beginning to respond to sounds. Lord Círdan observed with joy as the child turned his head at the sound of familiar voices. His attempts to gurgle and coo served as a heartwarming indication of his growing awareness of the world around him. In that tender moment, as Lord Círdan cradled Êl in his arms, he couldn't shake the feeling of familiarity that washed over him. The child's dark eyes and pale complexion stirred memories of his own son, long gone but never forgotten. Though he may never admit it aloud, watching Elen progress and thrive reminded Lord Círdan of the joy and wonder of parenthood.

Meanwhile, Arion and Meluwen languished in jail. When Êl's grandparents expressed a desire to take him in, Lord Círdan dismissed the notion, unwilling to burden elves who already had their hands full. He couldn't in good conscience impose the care of a very sickly elfling on elves who can barely sustain a family of four. Instead, Lord Círdan turned his attention to ensuring the safety of the other elflings, deploying a spy to gather reports on their well-being. Thankfully, they seemed to be faring relatively well. Lord Círdan also reached out to Meluwen's other children, hoping to offer them some semblance of familial support. However, they politely declined any contact with their family members, leaving Êl feeling utterly alone in the world.

During this time, Lord Círdan has been tirelessly working on improving laws to protect children in the Grey Haven. Lord Círdan also made a decision. He would keep Êl, the child he had nurtured back from the brink of death. In many ways, they were both alone in the world, devoid of immediate family. But in each other, they found a newfound sense of belonging and purpose.

As he was musing Lumion came to the halls and spoke gently, "Greetings my lord. Here is the copy of amended laws "

" Put it on the table, Lumion." Círdan said, " And go to Census and write Harthael under the section of my children's names "

My Lord? , Lumion asked.

"This one," Lord Círdan said cooing at Êl, "will be my son from now on and will be known as Harthael. And, yes, bring me the adoption paper too. "

Lumion couldn't help but smile. He said cheerfully," Of course my lord! I'll be right back."

Lord Círdan smilled and tapped Êl nose gently making Êl scrunch his face. Lord Círdan chuckled, "Little one, I have matter to attend to. Take a nap with nanny. Ada will be back in evening."

Taglist @asianbutnotjapanese @bobitoo08 @crazed-flower

Tagging @imagine-all-the-elves because it was inspired by the post on their blog.

#lotr #my fics #the hobbit #hobbit #the lord of the ring #the silmarillion #the rings of power #Círdan #Lord Círdan #Êl

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thesunpapaya · 2 years

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eddie loves lotr

#eddie #eddie munson #steddie #dustin henderson #lotr #the lord of the ring #the lord of the rings #stranger things 4 #stranger things art #stranger things fanart #stranger things #steve harrington

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nessjo · 21 days

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Im from Germany and one of my favourite things is that the german voice of Ewan McGregor's Obi Wan Kenobi and Orlando Bloom's Legolas are voiced by one and the same guy. His name is Philipp Moog.

Update: He also voiced Peter Facinelli's Dr. Carlisle Cullen in the Twilight Movies

#ewan mcgregor #orlando bloom #philipp moog #star wars #the lord of the ring #german voice actors #obi wan kenobi #legolas #peter facinelli #carlisle cullen

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bluebellhairpin · 1 year

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Just in case enough haven't heard yet, and you're a space nerd like me, there is a new planet with a ring system around it that has a diameter that spans 90 million kilometres. That's 200 times bigger than the rings on Saturn. This planet named J1407B, but we call it The Lord of The Rings.

#*queue the beat drop in The Great Gig In the Sky by Pink Floyd*#DO YOU EVEN KNOW HOW BIG THAT IS #IF SATURN HAD RINGS THAT LARGE WE WOULD SEE IT TWICE AS EASY AS WE SEE THE MOON #SPACE IS SO FUCKING COOL #nemos thoughts #j1407b #the lord of the ring #space

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kinmeki · 2 years

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The stranger.

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megisbroke · 1 year

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Now that I’m back on here after years. Where’s the fucking toe curling fan-fiction?!

#fanfics #writers on tumblr #hotd #the witcher #the sandman #stanger things #the lord of the ring #harry potter #prince nuada

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the-cranck-hobbit · 2 years

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Ten characters, Ten fandoms, Ten tags 🔖

1. Bucky Barnes (MCU)

2. Aragorn (LOTR)

3. Natasha Phoenix Trace (TGM)

4. Leonard McCoy (Star Trek)

5. Luke Collins (The Longest Ride)

6. Jonathan Blake (The Dark Knight Trilogy)

7. Newt (The Maze Runner Trilogy)

8. Mitchell (Being Human)

9. Finnick Odair (Hunger Games)

10. Dick Grayson (DC Comics)

Too many possibility, it was hard to make a choice 😭😭😭

Thank you @topgun-imagines for the tags 🥰

@sey @bradshawsbaby @kryptonitejelly @sunlightmurdock @justfandomwritings @callsign-phoenix @coeur-sacre-de-sorciere @youlightmeupfinn @luna-writes-stuff @imamotherfuckingstar-lord

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thevulturesquadron · 2 years

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Rewatching the Lord of the Rings trilogy and like every other time I do so, I am floored by how well the movies hold up. The visuals, the effects, the costumes, the miniatures used for grand shots, the acting, the storytelling, the pacing; the care and the love.

#lord of the rings #lotr movies #tlor #the lord of the ring #i have so much love for these movies #lexa here

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eldamaranquendi · 8 months

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The witch King by Anato Finnstark

#tolkien #jrrt #jrrtolkien #jrr tolkien #lotr #witch king of angmar #the witchking #nazgul #the lord of the rings #the lord of the ring

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entishramblings · 1 year

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The Innocence of Brutality Pt. 4 [Legolas/F!Reader]

A.N: so here is the fourth part! unsure if I will make more parts because this fic hasn’t been as popular as my previous ones idkkkk? But I do wanna get a chapter of FATE up before I consider adding to this series?? lol don’t mind this ramble. EDIT: okay I will not discontinue this series I didn’t realize so many people did like it???

Request: none

Pairing: Legolas X Fem!Reader

Summary: The Reader is Rámaitë Mahtar, a warrior spirit race, and she meets the fellowship on their quest to destroy the ring.

Disclaimer: Any mythology relating to the Rámaitë Mahtar is not canon as I made up Rámaitë Mahtar. Also, all elvish was translated from a translator site—it may not be accurate.

Word Count: 2k

Warnings: nudity (not sex), mentions of war, mentions of torture, violence, fluff

MASTERLIST | AO3 | WATTPAD

The Innocence of Brutality Masterlist

Only a couple days later, the fellowship approached a small town. It was small enough not to be very noticeable, yet large enough to have a marketplace to purchase some clothing for (Y/N) along with other supplies that they may need.

Aragorn nodded to Legolas. “Check her wing. See if it is healed.”

The elf turned to (Y/N), his eyes asking for permission.

She dipped her head ever so slightly, granting it.

He took to unbinding it and, as the fabric fell away, his lips parted. The wound was basically gone. It was still noticeable that there had been an injury, but it was mostly healed and feathers were beginning to grow back over the thin fleshy material.

“(Y/N), how do you feel? Does it hurt?”

She frowned, snapping them open. She then flapped them slightly, sending a large gust of wind at her friends who wobbled at the pressure. “No pain. They feel…better.”

“Can they retract?” Aragorn asked.

(Y/N) nodded as she lowered them again. Slowly, they began to fold in on themselves…until there was nothing.

With parted lips, Legolas walked around her form. His eyes fell upon her exposed back and….nothing. No scar. No mark. Just skin.

She looked human–ish. She still had that distinct ‘something different look’ but only ever so slightly. One wouldn't be able to pick up on it. At least none of the humans or simpler-minded creatures.

“Okay,” Aragorn stated, appeased. “(Y/N) and I will go with the hobbits. Boromir will go with Gandalf. And Legolas and Gimli, you go alone. Most will see either of you as a messenger of your people stopping for the night. Boromir will seemingly be assisting an old man with his travels. And (Y/N) and I will be seen as a family with the little ones.”

At this, Legolas clenched his jaw. He didn’t know why, but heat brewed in his chest.

“We will all stay in the same inn, but don’t make obvious contact with one another. Is everyone sure of the plan?”

Nods followed.

“Good.”

The smaller groups took turns entering the village, (Y/N), Aragorn, and the hobbits first.

They muddled by the market first, purchasing clothing and other essentials, before heading towards the inn. As they walked the streets, they passed all sorts of people—some chasing their children, and others trying to sell goods or services. One of these, services, caught (Y/N)’s attention.

A woman sat upon a man’s lap, her lips smashed against his. As their mouths moved in sync, the man’s arms wound their way across their hips. Aragorn knew that soon enough they would make their way into an ally or room for rent and do what they pleased. Of course, the others were not aware of such a lifestyle.

“What–what are they doing?” (Y/N) asked.

Pippin, rocking back on his heels, replied in a playful tone. “Kissing!”

The winged warrior frowned. “What is this…kissing?”

“It’s what people do when they love each other!” Sam replied.

“Love?” (Y/N) questioned.

“You know,” he began. “When you really like someone. When you really care bout ‘em.”

“I care about you.”

“Well of course you do.” Frodo said gently. “But love is different. It’s very special.”

Merry decided to interject at this point. “It’s like when you wanna be with them all the time!”

“You want to be with Pippin all the time,” (Y/N) said.

“Well, he’s my best friend! It’s different!” Merry defended.

Surprisingly, it was Aragorn who settled this debate. “All of those things are love, just different kinds. Romantic love is what you are asking about.” He ushered them along, still speaking in a quiet tone. ‘Romantic love is when your soul is bonded with another’s forever. It is when you would do anything for them. It is when you feel most cherished, most cared for, and most safe.” His hand drifted to the necklace that hung around his neck. “It is when you would want nothing but the best for that person, even if it breaks your heart.” He cleared his throat. “Now come along. We need to get to the inn.”

(Y/N) frowned, but followed along, her eyes lingering upon the couple.

They got a room, one as large as they could, and cleaned up, before making their way down to the bar for a meal and drink. (Y/N) sat, in her new clothes, at a nook table with the hobbits and Aragorn. It was then when Gandalf and Boromir walked in. They exchanged a quick subtle nod before drifting to a table nearby. Gimli entered about a half hour later—loud and complaining for some ale and mead. And Legolas soon followed.

However, when the elf entered and scanned the room, his eyes froze on the Rámaite Mahtar. Her hair, clean and sparkling, framed her face nicely. Dark trousers wrapped around her waist and her feet were now clad by brown leather boots. A green tunic was covered by a simple leather armor, one that the Rangers often wore, and a matching cloak was tied under her neck. She looked put together…less homely and rugged. She looked normal…almost. Regardless, she was blending into their cover story quite well. She was smiling, talking, and eating with the hobbits. Aragorn’s arm was wrapped around her too as he held an ale. They looked sorta like a family traveling through the area. Legolas hated it.

(Y/N) caught a glimpse of the elf from the corner of her eye and flashed him a smile.

He sent her a small one in return, trying to mask the jealousy boiling in his blood.

With that, he disappeared into the bar.

As the night continued on, each small group began to subtle make their way into their rooms upstairs.

Currently, Legolas sat upon the mattress in his small room. His dirty clothes were discarded and he wore only a clean pair of rousers. He was writing in a little book, a journal, that he was keeping throughout the journey. If he didn’t survive this, he wanted his father to find it. He wanted his father to know why he undertook such a journey. He hoped it would provide at least some comfort for the man.

It was then that a knock sounded upon his door.

“Come in,” he called, for he knew it could only be a member of the fellowship. No other here would disturb an elf. His people had a reputation that led others to stay away.

A loud creaking sounded as the door slowly swung open.

“(Y/N)?” Legolas said, surprised.

She entered and closed the door behind her.

“I have your clothes,” she said simply, before placing a rumbled-up pile of green on the small table next to the bed.

He smiled. “Thank you for returning them. I see the new ones Aragorn got you fit quite well.”

“Yes.” She walked towards him, standing right in front of him. “What are you doing?”

“Journaling,” he said. “I am writing of our adventure—taking notes, sketches. I want to keep a record of it, just in case.”

She frowned, peering at the book. “Just in case what?”

He looked up at her, sorrow in his blue eyes. “Just in case I die.” He cleared his throat, looking back down at the pages. “I want my father to have it. As an explanation. I assume by now he knows I have taken upon this quest.”

“I don't want you to die,” (Y/N) responded with a bit of a waver in her voice.

Legolas sighed. “I don’t want you to die either–any of you.”

Surprising the elf, (Y/N) reached forward. She pulled the notebook from his hands as well as the ink and feather. She placed them carefully on the bedside table before returning in front of Legolas.

“(Y/N),” Legolas began, confused. The sentence that was to follow, however, didn’t.

His voice faltered into nothingness as (Y/N) lifted one leg at a time to sit on his lap. As she settled upon him, she brought her hands to his cheeks.

“(Y/N),” he began again. Still, his words could not form past her name.

She leaned forward, her eyes fluttering closed, and pressed her lips to his. At first, he didn’t respond, shock filtering through his bones, but his body soon responded. His mouth began moving in pattern with hers and his arms encased her form. Her lips tasted of lavender and light, hints of ale filtering through that. She tasted different. She tasted ethereal. He liked it. He pulled her body close as they shared one breath. He let her fingers weave into his blond locks, entangling themselves deep into it, and he didn’t stop her when her hands ever so slightly brushed his elvish ears. He did, however, have to resist the sexual urge that came from such a touch. It was a slow kiss, one of hesitation and unsureness, but not unwanted.

When the pair pulled away, Legolas looked up at her face. His next sentence was not that of accusation, but rather of question. “Why did you do that?”

She bit her lip. “Sam said that is what you do when you care about someone. It’s called kissing.”

“I know what it is called.” He chuckled lightly. “So did you kiss the hobbits too?”

She shook her head. “It is only for when you really care about someone.”

He raised a brow, his arm wrapping tighter around her back. “Is that so?”

She nodded, not picking up on his teasing manner. “Yes. They said it is when you love someone.”

His second eyebrow lifted upwards to meet his first. “Do you even know what love is?”

(Y/N)’s expression turned to that of determination and seriousness as she spoke her next words. “I will kill for you.”

“(Y/N), you are a race that brings death. Killing for someone isn't love—”

She shook her head. “No. You don’t understand. I—I don’t like war…not really. I don’t like that people hurt. I don’t like where I went after…after the first time I was here. With–with a man named Morgoth.” Her voice turned into a whisper. “He–he tortured me. I bled because of him.” (Y/N) blinked a couple of times, trying to hold back tears. It didn’t work. “But I would do it again…for you. I am doing it again...for you.”

That was the most words he ever heard her say consecutively. “I–I don’t understand—” he stuttered, a bit surprised by the content.

“I ran. I escaped. I came here to…to hide.”

Legolas tilted his head with his lips parted as he reached forward to brush away the water running down her cheek. He now knew what she was trying to say. “(Y/N),” he whispered.

She inhaled deeply. “If they find me, they will send me back. But–but I dont care. I have you.”

With that, Legolas grasped her cheeks. “(Y/N), I will fight anyone, including the Valar, who tries to take you away.” He paused, just for a moment. “Anyone who tries to take you away from me. ”

The Prince then slammed his lips against the winged woman’s. He held onto her tight as his one hand weaved its way into her hair. He presented more pressure upon that hand and the one around her waist to pull her towards him, almost frantically. Every ounce of his soul held onto her as their mouths melded together—instantaneously, urgently. It was wet, it was rough, it was desperate.

He knew she was capable of emotion. He knew she was capable of more than the basics. She could feel it, live it, experience it. So much so that she could identify love…in herself and in others.

The Rámaite Mahtar were more than just warriors.

Legolas had known it all along and (Y/N) had just proved it to him.

He needed nothing more.

He could finally allow himself to love her…not that he hadn’t this entire time.

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justpostsyeet · 14 days

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Mîr, holding a crooked pottery : Calm down Lord Erestor, beauty lies in the eyes of the beholder.

Lindir : I agree with her, My lord because *holds Mîr's chin and looks directly at her face* what I see right now is the most beautiful thing in Ea.

Glorfindel and Erestor : Smooth........

Mîr :

#mîr vin universe #Glorfindel x mîr x lindir #the hobbit #the lord of the rings #lotr #hobbit #silmarillion #lindir #glorfindel #glorfindel x mîr x lindir #the rings of power #lord of the rings #the lord of the ring #Glorfindel x lindir

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justsomerandomfanfic · 1 year

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hi! i saw you did mashups on your blog and i was wondering if i could get one for x-men/lord of the rings?

im 20yrs old, my names phoenix, im 5'0 and have smaller green eyes and bright ginger hair, and i love few things in this world as much as toast and david bowie.

{some} of my favorite things are;

the color blue, stars/moons,classic lit, tea, spiderman anddd 90s movies<3

{some} things i hate aree; a court of thorns and roses, ppl who mock taylor swift andd bigots [i dont hate most things lol]

im pretty shy but when i get talking i dont shut up and can get bored quite easliy, i could talk for hours about starwars and i have a super protective baby sister who i love to pieces<3

hope this isnt to much idk how these things work- have a perfectly lovley day!

Heyy!! Thank you so much for requesting a matchup! The info you have presented to me is excellent, don't worry! (Love your name btw) I hope you enjoy the matchup!! Thanks again! <333

X-Men;

Hank McCoy:

💙 You met Hank when you became the new music teacher at Professor X's mansion for Gifted Youngsters, (your 'superpowers' as you call them, are amazing, you can mentally manipulate the energy generated by stars as well as their electromagnetic, gravitational, radiation and cosmic energies)

💙 Hank, being the science professor, you had passed each other in the halls many times when you went to a from classes; you, as a music professor, and sometimes English substitute, help kids with music theory and how to read notes, and some days you show the kids' different music genres and just jam out all together

💙 You and Hank began to talk more and more, being co-workers and all, it was a bit awkward and slow in the beginning on both of your parts, Hank was almost as shy as you when it came to you first talking, but she got used to you and vise versa, and both of you became quick friends

💙 When he didn't have classes to teach, Hank would visit you during classes, watching you with the kids and sometimes joining in and nervously trying to play the violin; after a couple of weeks though, Hank asked if you wanted to join him for tea

💙 You both made tea in the kitchen, laughing and making jokes as you both then left and walked around the gardens of the mansion outside; Hank loved how much you cared about your favorite topics and interests, like David Bowie, Spiderman, and 90's movies

💙 Hank was a bit worried originally when he began talking to you, that you'd be afraid of him after he fully turned into the Beast, so he tried his best to avoid you, but you found him and Hank was scared, he really liked you; you reassured him that you'd like him no matter what, (along with telling him that your favorite color was blue)

💙 You began dating not long after, and you two would spend a lot of time together when you both weren't working or fighting baddies, watching the stars on a balcony in the mansion, reading together in the library by the fire, or just cuddling while music softly played in the background; it was nice, dream-like, perfect

💙 Hank finds you captivating, from your green eyes to your bright ginger hair, and he was fascinated by your love of Star Wars, admiring you as you ranted on and on about your favorite plots and characters, you were so amazing

💙 You found yourself falling more and more in love with Hank, finding him extremely sweet, caring, funny... You were so impressed by his intelligence, and how his brain worked, often times you'd just watch him in the lab, just watching the gears in his head turn

💙 You two were inseparable, two peas in a pod, you two understood each other so perfectly; you never thought you'd find someone like Hank, and you were so happy that you did

Lord Of The Rings;

Legolas Greenleaf:

🏹 You were part of the Fellowship, having an incredible talent for reading maps and following stars, you met Legolas the very same day the Fellowship banded together

🏹 You found him attractive, tall, and pretty funny with his slightly snarky comments, but it took you a while until you finally spoke to him

🏹 When you did speak to each other, you brought up that you both used a bow and arrow to fight orcs and whatnot, Legolas actually gave you a few tips and even taught you how to shoot two arrows at once

🏹 Legolas found you strikingly beautiful when he first laid his eyes on you, your bright hair immediately caught his blue eyes and he loved how much you loved the stars and moon, along with music in general; he'd find you humming sometimes when you and the rest of the Fellowship were walking

🏹 When the two of you grew closer as friends, you and Legolas would watch the stars and stargaze when you were both on night watch, talking about the stars and their constellations, along with some stories from your lives

🏹 After walking for a good hour, you found yourself getting terribly bored, wanting to stimulate your brain in some way, you began to collect flowers while walking, humming as you began to intertwine the stems together; making a flower crown out of wildflowers

🏹 After making the first flower crown, you made another, placing the first on your head before rushing up to toss the second flower crown on Legolas's head; Legolas loved the crown, his cheeks red as you admired how the bright yellow and blue flowers brought you his hair and eyes

🏹 As the feelings for each other began to grow, you and Legolas both confessed to each other once you both found yourselves in Lothlórien

🏹 Legolas became pretty protective of you, reminding you of your younger sister, making sure that you were alright after every orc attack, which you found adorable and sweet

🏹 You and Legolas were the perfect match, bringing out the best in each other as well as loving every single moment you both spent with one another; life was idyllic and wonderful, and you couldn't wait for the future

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