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theartofbeinganeldar · 4 years

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The Art of Being an Eldar: Legolas x Reader Chapter 5

Summary: After discovering that you were stuck in Middle-Earth, Thranduil summoned a council of powerful Elves and wizards to see what should be done with you, expressing his wishes of wanting you out of his kingdom. The council decides to send you with Legolas on an orc-hunting mission, and if the Elves of the company that he deems trustworthy-- one of them being his own wife-- say that you've proven yourself worthy of staying among the Mirkwood Elves, then you can stay. The problem is actually managing to succeed...

Chapter No.: Chapter 5

Key: [Y/N]=Your Name [F/N]= Friend's Name [B/N]= Bro's Name [S/N]= Sis's Name [M/N]= Mom's Name [e/c]= eye color [h/c]= hair color [s/c]= skin color [lad/lass/y-o]= lad/laddie, lass/lassie, young one

Notes: I know I've been trying to keep this story gender-nuetral, but dwarves have a habit of referring to people (Even Gimli to Legolas, though he's a lot younger than our golden boy) as "lad/laddie" "lass/lassie." Or even "young one," I've heard Balin call Bilbo. So for this story, I'll just put [lad/lass/y-o] in parenthesese, and you can just hear whichever one you choose. :)

Warnings: Fluff, angst, graphic depictions of gore and violence (Cuz of orc battles y'know?), more angst, slow burn, some light depression in the first few chapters, some amnesia about Middle-Earth because the Valar say you're not supposed to have foresight, hard-core language, feels, lots and lots of feels, mentions of NSFW content, maybe some eventual NSFW content, LGTBQ+ characters, Thranduil being a jackass at first because he's fabulous, Legolas being a hot edgy prince that nobody can handle, Kili being an innocent bean, Hobbits being smol innocent beans, except for Bilbo 'cause he's been through some tough shit, Bard being dad of the year, Thorin being one dumbass boi, awesome dragons, awesome Nazgul, awesome scenery, awesome stuff in general, Elrond isn't listened to by anybody, confused Aragorn is confused, Denethor's a bitch as always, brace yourself for creepy as fuck Cream of Wormtongue Grima Wormtongue, Boromir LIVES, Gandalf. (yes these are all legit warnings don't judge me.)

Pairings/Ships: Legolas x Reader, Legolas x you, Aragorn x Arwen, Faramir x Eowyn, Thranduil x Elvenqueen, Galadriel x Celery Celeborn, Boromir x OC, Thorin x OC maybe Bilbo you won't know for awhile, Fili x OC, etc. general LoTR standard shippings plus some of my own cuz I can't stand my boys being lonely

Word Count: I try to keep my chapters short, under 2000 words.

Rating: Teen (14+) for now

The Elves stopped just outside the northern border of the Mirkwood, to the west, to wait for the dwarves. But apparently the little guys just didn't give a shit.

The whole group camped for three days, then three more days, and by the end of it, you were even growing impatient. It was mainly the younger Elves that shared your impatience, but Elves like Elvenqueen and Erestor and Haldir seemed to think that they had all the time in the world, la la fucking la...

Legolas seemed in-between, irritated at the dwarves for being so late but not really caring in the long run. You tried several times to approach him and apologize, but he always seemed to disappear at the most inconvenient times imaginable.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity-- you were getting sick and tired of frolicking-- the sign of a camp on a distant ridge, a couple of days away, gave the Elves hope that the dwarves finally got their heads out of their asses and decided to show up. A couple of Elves seemed to puff some horses out of thin air, and galloped off to meet them.

"We get horses?!" You'd screeched, and wheeled on your friends-- Tauriel hadn't come, so Lindir, Elros, and pissy Blue-Eyes were the only actual friends here you had, even though all the other Elves were very nice to you. "Why the fuck didn't anybody tell me we got horses?!" You could've been riding to pass this time. Not that you knew how to ride a horse, but that wasn't the point.

Elros blinked at you in disbelief. "Those Elves awaited us on the border with horses enough for all. You have not seen them before?"

"No, dammit, or I would've been riding to pass the time!" You hadn't noticed them, because a certain Rivendell Elf had forced you to learn Elvish... You rounded on him. "Lindir! If you hadn't made me sit here and learn Elvish, I could've been riding!"

Lindir stared at you, then slowly raised an eyebrow challengingly. "You do not know how to ride, do you?"

You frowned. "That's not the point!"

Both Elros and Lindir chuckled amongst themselves. You huffed theatrically. "Fine, jackasses. I'm off to pet one of those sweet animals. You can teach me Elvish later."

Before either of them could stop you, you all but ran off, hoping not to slam into anybody or trip or cause something to fall that'd cause a huge mess. You were prone to all of them. And there were horses, enough for everybody there, and three very fat ponies that you almost started squealing over. Those, you guessed, were for the dwarves.

But one horse, out of all of them, caught your eye.

A sleek, gorgeous black, with a bright white star on his forehead. He was built for speed, like a racehorse, but he was sturdy, too. You looked for something to mark him as belonging to a certain Elf-- because you knew Elves loved horses, and that like all horse people, even look at their horse wrong and you make it on their kill list-- but they all seemed randomly selected out of somebody's stables, dressed in the same dark leather tack and saddlebags.

"Oooooh," You approached him quietly, and he nickered softly at you, his dark eyes scanning you and the Elves and the other horses warily. He seemed only recently tamed. "You, fine sir, are gorgeous."

"I beg your pardon?"

You promptly fell backward. Shit! Talking horses, too?! "What the fuck?!"

Legolas, with a smug smirk plastered onto his absurdly perfect face, sailed into existence from around a dapple gray mare. "Valar tell me you were talking to the horse."

"No, I can tell you I was talking to the horse," You sighed in relief, shaking your head as you stood. "But don't worry your platinum head, Goldie, all Elves are equally beautiful creatures."

Legolas rolled his eyes. "Whatever you say, mellon."

You stroked the black's face gently. "No seriously though, he's beautiful. Does he have a name?"

Blue-Eyes didn't look up from brushing his mare's mane. "Most of the horses came from Rivendell and Rohan, which they bought on the journey. The rest came from the Woodland stables. I doubt you will find his name, if he has one."

You felt a little disappointed that you couldn't ask if you could have the horse. You'd always wanted one, but for... Personal reasons that had to do with your biological father, you never got one. "Well... I'll just refer to him as The Black, then."

Blue-Eyes turned around, and started inspecting his tack. "Hm... He seems to have come from our own stables." He stroked behind the stallion's ears, and the horse snuffed appreciatively.

"Legolas," You said quickly, realizing you should catch him when you have the chance. "I'm sorry for not telling you about me leaving if this didn't go well. It wasn't my choice; Thranduil wanted me to go with Elrond that day, but I asked if I could stay. He sent me on this mission to see if I was worthy enough to stay in his Palace of Fabulous. I'm sorry I didn't tell you, but... I didn't think anyone would care if I left."

Blue-Eyes got a confused look. "Why... Why would you think that?"

You gave him a sad, lopsided smile. "No one has before."

Recognition, then regret, flashed across Blue-Eyes's face. "Oh, Sairen... I am truly sorry, mellon nin, I should not have been angry with you. I didn't realize... I should have, and I should not have been upset with you. I just... I do care if you leave, and, if I'm honest, I do not want you to go."

You patted his shoulder. "Just so long as you forgive me."

Blue-Eyes smiled at you. "Of course, mellon, if you can forgive me."

You grinned. "Forgiven." You nudged him with your shoulder. "I'm just glad we're friends again. I've never had so many people be nice to me, but only a handful of you I consider my friends."

"And who among us hold that honor?" He asked teasingly.

Oh shit... You'd seen movies where somebody's asked this question, and if the askee shows even the slightest bit of hesitation or interest in any of the friends, asker became pissed and/or jealous. Wait... Why do I care about that? You turned to him with a huge smile. "Well you and Tauriel, DUH, and then there's Lindir and Elros now. Just wait, I'll be friends with Haldir and Erestor too, and then your mom-- by the time I'm finished I'll even make your dad like me!"

Legolas chuckled. "I hope so, mellon."

"By the way," You said, and reached down to grab a handful of grass to give to the Black. "Lindir and Elros are trying-- and failing-- to teach me Elvish. I'm a horrible student, namely because I'm Elvish-challenged. Still, I'm learning, and I want you to teach me something very specific."

He looked confused. "What?"

You smiled. "Teach me the history of Middle-Earth! Everything you can! I can't read Elvish, but you can, and you know the stories pretty well, I'm guessing. So start with how the world began and continue on from there."

Legolas smiled. "Very well, Sairen." In one quick movement, he mounted his mare, then reached down for your hand. "Come. We will ride, and I will tell you all that I know."

You took his hand, feeling a spark from static you'd built up from petting the horse. He hefted you effortlessly up behind him, then urged his horse into a canter as you rode away from camp.

***

Needless to say, you fell off twice.

Once, you let go of Legolas for just a second as his mare jumped a small log, and whoops, there you go. After, still not learning your lesson, you let go of him while trotting beside a river and the horse's gait made you slide right off before you even realized what was happening.

Then you learned not to let go of Blue-Eyes, mostly because he laughed his Elvish ass off every time you fell, after making sure you were okay.

As for world history, it was all very confusing. There were like six different versions of somebody and a hundred different other guys shared the same name and places and descendants and confusing time periods and just ugh. That was one thing you remembered from Earth: Tolkien's works had always been confusing.

Long story short, though, there was a guy called Eru, or Illuvatar, and he created a bunch of friends through thought. These friends of his became the Valar, and Illuvatar created the whole universe-- Ea-- through more thought. Then he had all his friends-- fourteen of them-- sing, and they created the vision of Valinor, then Arda, and the mischief-maker was Melkor, brother of god-king Manwe.

Now, after a long bout of building and making and stuff they created Valinor and Tirion and Mandos and all that, and they created birds and beasts, but Melkor got jealous and tried to ruin it at every fucking turn. Seriously, the guy didn't give them a break.

Then, Aule, another Valar, who made a lot of shit, wanted to have a bunch of kids so created the little guys known as dwarves, and made them to be especially tough and hardy and stuff because they were supposed to be around during the time of Melkor. But, Illuvatar appeared in his living room one night and said "I think the fuck not my kids come first" which made Aule reeeaaaaaallly upset, so he tried to kill the dwarves (Supreme parenting 2.0!), but then Illuvatar said "wait idiot they can still live" so Aule put them in stasis-mode for like several million years, until somebody "accidentally" unleashed some new Elves into Middle-Earth-- which had no moon or sun.

So duh Orome shows up, says "hi" and everybody runs for their lives except for a few brave souls, who round everybody back up. So three particular Elves, Finwe, Lenwe, and Ingwe, who you're pretty sure were brothers, went to Valinor with Orome to see if it was suitable for Elves-- and it was pretty much Elven paradise, or Vegas or something.

THUS CAME THE FIRST SUNDERING OF THE ELVES, or, that's how dramatically Leggy told it; the Teleri came to rest on the shores of Aman instead of going still further (Who earlier had split further and some became the Sindar, who had stayed in Beleriand, and the Silvan Elves, who'd stayed in the forests of Beleriand or something, of which Blue-Eyes was the first.), the Nandor who got scared of mountains and refused to go further, and the Noldor, who came all the way to Valinor.

Once actually in Aman, the Elves loved it there. They were in paradise. Water. Books. Flowers. Sparkles. Everything an Elf dreamed of. They built a city on a huge hill called Tirion upon Tuna (No you refrained from laughing.), made of silver and gold and more sparkles, and there was lots of peace, until Melkor was finally caught and chained.

Peace, lots of peace, boring shit, more peace, then BAM, the idiot Valar let the bastard go, like dumbasses. Melkor hadn't changed of course, no one does. He started rumors like some crazy gossiper and started up a whole bunch of shit. At that time, this guy called Feanor was around. He was like, the Elf of Elves, but he had some breathtaking anger management issues because after his mom died, his dad waited like a couple thousand years then got married again, and he definitely did not like his stepmom.

Or his two half-brothers.

They were pretty cool guys, Fingolfin and Finarfin, and each brother had like a dozen kids each, one of Finarfin's, get this, was Galadriel. One of Thingol's kin? Celeborn. Elrond? Yeah, he's the grandson of Beren and Luthien, the son of Earendil, raised by Maglor, related to Turin, and his grandparents were Tuor and Idril, the latter of which was the daughter of Turgon, who was the son of Fingolfin, who was the brother of Feanor, so yeah.

Holy fucking shit. Their god stories were kinda hard not to believe when people still existed who could vouch for them.

So this Feanor guy created a trio of sparklies beyond all sparklies, called, the Silmarils. He got a mild case of dragonsickness, boasting and hoarding and showing off and gloating, but Melkor made him think his brothers were trying to steal his sparkles, which, fuck no, how dare they, and he made his brothers think that Feanor was trying to usurp their father Finwe's throne.

Damn that guy knew how to stir up some shit.

One of Melkor's chief servants? Sauron, the Dark Lord, previously known as Sauron the Sparkly Maiar Who Wouldn't Hurt A Butterfly. Balrogs? Yup, Melkor made them, too.

Basically, Feanor started a revolution against the Valar and Melkor, who he called Morgoth, because Melkor was just too pretty of a name for such a bad guy, who stole every single light with the help of a hideously large spider called Ungoliant, killed Finwe, then took the Silmarils.

Feanor was piiiiiiissed.

So the Noldor left Tirion, killed some guys that tried to reason with them that turned out to be Elves, the Teleri, got cursed by Mandos, then Feanor, his sons, and a couple hundred who he knew didn't question him set off on stolen boats and burned them when they reached shore, leaving everybody else-- Galadriel included-- to walk the fucking Helcaraxe, a snowy strait wasteland, to get to Beleriand, which was filled with sparkling twinkle-toes Elves and much-less-serious dwarves-- who were friends.

There was also a good portion of the story dedicated to Turin, Beren and Luthien, and the couple known as Maedhros and Fingon, who you instantly adored: Maedhros, chained to a jagged cliffside for who-knows-how-long, and Fingon, who wanted so badly to save him, and eventually carried up to the cliffside by an eagle; he had to cut off Maedhros's hand, but the story was so heartfelt you were still internally squealing about it.

Yeah so that happened, and then a bunch of war and slaying and something about a Fall of Gondolin and the Children of Hurin and Beren and Luthien leading up to a whole lot of human-caused shit with Numenor, and then Illuvatar blew everything up and restarted, essentially. Toward the end of the second age, Sauron (The fucker had somehow lived through all that evil-cleansing shit.), in the form of a fancy-prancy Elf named Annatar, suggested the making of the Rings of Power. Three, a smart guy who hadn't fallen for any of Annatar's shit, Celebrimbor, hid for the Elves, while Sauron/Annator helped forge the rest in order to control them, making one ring, above all.

Three Rings for the Elven-kings under the sky,

Seven for the dwarf lords in their halls of stone,

Nine for mortal men doomed to die,

And one for the Dark Lord on his Dark Throne,

In the land of Mordor where the shadows lie,

One Ring to find them,

One Ring to bring them all and in the darkness bind them,

In the land of Mordor where the shadows lie.

That was totally cool and stuff, and a handful of well-known Elves-- Gil-Galad, Glorfindel (Who'd uh, previously died due to a balrog trying to touch his hair.), Elrond-- and you're betting Galadriel, Celeborn, and Thranduil-- plus a bunch of well-known humans, lead by Isildur's dad, Elendil, and probably some dwarves, all came together with their armies and formed the Last Alliance of Elves and Men, totally discounting every dwarf that was there.

The nine kings who'd been given rings? Yeah, those were cursed, and because Men are greedy, they became shadows of their former selves, black-clad servants of Sauron, known as the Ringwraiths-- or, even cooler, Nazgul.

So there was a huge battle. Gil-Galad fell. Isildur's dad fell. Isildur cut off the One Ring from Sauron's hand, Sauron faded away, and Elrond took Isildur into Mount Doom to destroy the Ring. But he was weak, and was seduced by its power, and Elrond just stood there screaming his name apparently.

So there'd been roughly a couple thousand years of peace, and nobody knew where the Ring was. You doubted it was anywhere safe or secure, and much less that Sauron was actually dead.

Also, the Elves were fading. That scared you.

"What?! Great, I got sucked into a world where I'm just gonna die!"

Legolas laughed. "No, mellon nin, we are fading. Not dying. We just long for home, and our kind is slowly leaving Middle-Earth. This world becomes gray to us after so long of living here. We go across the sea, to the Undying Lands of Aman and Valinor."

"Okay," You leaned around him to see his face. "What is it with you Elves and the sea?! What's so important about it, if even you've never seen it yourself?! I certainly haven't seen any kind of ocean or sea."

Blue-Eyes smiled at you. "The first sound ever heard by the Elves was flowing water. It calls us home, in a way. It is said by my people that in water there yet lives the echo of the Music of the Ainur that first created this world."

"Huh," You said, tilting your head. "Guess that does make it really interesting..."

The sound of another pair of hoofbeats, coming up from behind, nearly made you fall off of the horse again. "Orcs?!"

Blue-Eyes grinned smugly. "Orcs do not ride horses, Sairen."

"Duh. I knew that. Fuck you."

"I'd rather you not without my consent."

"That's not always what it means!" You hid your blush by moving so your head was behind his back. Damn Elves...

It was Erestor, riding a gorgeous flaxen stallion. "Legolas, Elvenqueen calls upon the company of [Y/N]."

Nervously, you peered around Blue-Eyes's side. "Is that bad?"

Legolas spurred his own mare into a canter as he followed after Erestor. "Not in the least, mellon."

When you returned to camp, Erestor and Legolas took care of the horses, while they sent you on ahead-- by yourself, to a scary yet badass Elvenqueen you might glare you out of existence if you breathed wrong, like the wonderful friends they were-- to the Elvenqueen.

She sat by one of the center campfires, surrounded by a drove of Elves eagerly listening to whatever she was saying. Even in the firelight, she looked really young, but really regal and noble and even though she didn't have a wrinkle on her body you could tell she'd been around for eons.

All went silent when you approached. Nervously, you bowed. "Y-you wished to see me, your majesty?"

"Yes," She said, and waved to a place on a log across from her. "Sit."

You weren't terrified or anything. Just 'cause she decided not to skin you alive a couple days ago didn't mean she couldn't change her mind. You caught a glimpse of Elros in the crowd, and he gave you a reassuring nod: Don't worry, you won't die yet.

Comforting.

"Tell something of your world," She said.

You balked. Hadn't Thranduil told her everything you'd said? They seemed like the type of couple to do just that. Hadn't Legolas at least given her some information? They seemed close. You swallowed hard, readjusting yourself on the log. "What uh... What do you want to know?"

She thought for a second. "A tale."

You shifted. Sure, that was specific. You'd read billions of books (Well, maybe not quite that much...), but you couldn't remember any that Elves would want to hear aside from series’, like Temeraire, or The Gospel of Loki, or Eon the Last Dragoneye. Maybe you could use a movie, but Marvel and Transformers were too long and in-depth. You thought for a minute. You didn't even know how to give a much-shortened version of Eragon.

But out of everything, it was your best bet to tell a story and be safe from explaining your world's past, or things of your world, or cultures, mythology, or the concept of giant robots from another planet that hide by transforming into cars. Eragon was the closest thing you had to Lord of the Rings that you could remember right off the top of your head that was most similar; it had some of the same beasts, like dragons and werewolves, it was set in the same genre and had dwarves and Elves and Men, even if urgals were a new one... Then again, you weren't sure how they'd take dragons being good instead of hoarding assholes.

So, you got started.

As a hobby, you wrote a lot of fanfiction, which had mainly been for Lord of the Rings; you couldn't remember any of it now, of course, but you'd also started your own fantasy stories that had never been published. You were good with storytelling.

There were points where you had to pause and remember what happened next, or try to find words that explained the guilt or sadness or general feels of the story, but you did pretty good. By the time you were finished, the sun had came up and it was already noon, and the Elves that'd gone off to see if that camp was for dwarves were coming back, with a couple of pony-sized rams with shaggy coats carrying three tiny buff hairy guys.

Elvenqueen regally stood. "My thanks, [Y/N]. That was a wonderful story." She sailed through the ranks of the Elves, which parted before her like reeds to a boat.

"Is that a true story?" Lindir asked you, eyes wide.

You scoffed. "If it were true, I'd've had a dragon named Saphira or Shruikan. I have no dragon." You clapped your hands together. "So! When do I get to meet the dwarves?"

Blue-Eyes-- who'd joined later in the story, and another Elf caught him up on what was going on while he half-listened to what else was going on-- mockingly rolled his eyes. "Patience, mellon. I cannot think of any Eldar whom would willingly want to make the acquaintance of a dwarf."

You gave him a pointed look. "What about Thingol's people?"

Silence. Finally, Elros busted out laughing, and clapped the now-stunned Legolas on the back. "They have a point, mellon!"

But Blue-Eyes was right. It was only a couple hours before you were sought out by a Lothlorien Elf, who told you Thorin wanted to meet "the one who hailed from far." Apparently, nobody here felt like saying "the person that came from another planet." Not as mysterious, apparently.

So you followed the Elf to a tent, much smaller than those of the Elves, and a lot less colorful and, dare you say it, fashionable. Literally, it just looked like a bunch of old dark-colored blankets had been stitched together haphazardly. But, if you looked at the tools and tack of the rams, they were just doing it in spite of the Elves, because they had really good craftsmanship.

You weren't sure what to do. "Uhhh... Knock knock?"

You belatedly remembered one of the dwarves was royalty. "Sirs?"

The flap of the tent opened, and you got your first look at a dwarf.

He was an older dwarf, with a long graying beard and frizzy hair, and huge round ears. He looked you up and down in a brief but kind inspection, and, came to the very educated conclusion of, yup, not your normal Elf.

The dwarf smiled. "Ah, you must be [Y/N]." He sounded more Scottish than anything, and you were instantly relaxed. "The one from a far place. Not a normal Elf, then?"

You shook your head. "No sir. Just got here about a month and a half ago, actually."

He raised a hand. "Now now, we are all a part of this expedition, and I don't like being referred to as 'sir.' I am Balin to you."

You couldn't help but smile. He was a lovable little guy, a very sweet old dwarf. "Okay then. But, uh... Should I call Thorin or Dwalin 'sir'?"

Balin thought about that. "Ehhh... Thorin, yes. Dwalin? No."

You nodded, and Balin lead you inside the tent. It was pretty cozy, with three logs covered in roughish furs for makeshift beds. A small cooking fire was set up in the middle, and two other dwarves sat by it, halting their dwarvish conversation when they seen you and Balin. "This is they," Said Balin, in an introductory way. "[Y/N], child of [M/N], from far places."

The dwarf who you assumed was Dwalin-- buff, sleeveless, and with viscious muttonchops that made him look like Wolverine-- scoffed. "Tell me," Holy shit, he sounds like Leonidas from 300! "[Y/N], do you perhaps come from the Iron Hills?"

"Iron... What?" You were confused. Hadn't any of the Elves talked about you being from Earth? "N...No. I come from a place called Earth."

"Dwalin," Said the other guy, who radiated kingship, authority, and regal dwarfish-ness. He didn't take his eyes off you, like you were a predator ready to strike that he was wary of. He had a beard, but braided neatly down, and long dark hair. He wore dark navy blue and brown fur armor, and his voice was like, super deep. "They are not of the Iron Hills."

"Uh... Thank you?"

Thorin stood, and you bowed. "I'd uh, use some really respectful greeting, but I don't know any in dwarvish yet, so, it's an honor to meet you, Thorin, son of Thrain."

Thorin nodded. "I would say the same, if I knew you deserved any honor," He replied. Ouch.

You didn't know what to say. He obviously had no love for Elves. "What uh... What made you think I was from the Iron Hills, wherever that is?"

"To the east of Erebor, [lad/lass/y-o]," Balin informed you, and Dwalin whacked him so hard upside the head you could've swore they broke something.

"Oh. What made you think--"

Thorin looked at you with a look that said stfu so you did. "The dwarves of Erebor think little of Elven magic, or wizards. We did not believe a portal strong enough to pull someone from another world could exist. And as I have discovered, it does not."

You were confused. "What do you mean? You mean the ears? Those were latex, I swear, but suddenly they weren't. You can ask Thranduil, I'm not from these parts."

Thorin glared at you. "I would rather not converse with the Elvenking. He does not hear the word of others. As for you... It is clear you are merely an Elf of strange upbringing, who lost themselves in the wrong woods."

"Okay," You were starting to get irritated. You loved Middle-Earth, but you weren't from Middle-Earth. You didn't belong, like always, and you were ready to defend your position. In Game of Thrones--you'd never gotten far in that series, and had only started the books-- Tyrion Lannister told Jon Snow to armor himself in what people thought his weakness was, so that it would no longer be his weakness. That's exactly what you'd done over the course of your life, and you weren't about to lose that now. "Listen, I can show you the damn portal. It wasn't made by Elves, or wizards, or any of that other shit. The inscription on the portal came from the time of Gondolin, if that means anything to you. Do I talk like an Elf, to you? Do I act like one? The Elves were ready to kill me, just because I breathed wrong near their damn trees after being chased by orcs on oversized dogs. If I weren't from another world, do you honestly think I'd have such elaborate stories?"

Behind Thorin, Balin patted his hands down, giving you the silent signal to shut up. Glacing at Thorin's pissed off face made you listen. "How am I to believe you?"

You made a face. "Don't you dwarves have any kind of lie-detecting abilites?"

Balin sighed. "None that we can think of, [lad/lass/y-o]."

You huffed in defeat. "Okay, okay, you know what? You dwarves are beyond stubborn, so I'll just tell you once: I come from another world. If you don't believe me, fine, but I'd actually like to make friends with dwarves, thank you very much."

"Oh!" Dwalin chuckled deeply. "Then they must not be an Elf, Thorin! None in their right mind would go cavorting with a dwarf!"

Thorin frowned. "Perhaps a spy... But wait... You are not of the Woodland Elves. I see that now."

You looked down at yourself. "Gee, what gave it away?"

"You carry yourself differently," He began to circle you, and you felt like you were being circled by a vulture. An angry vulture... "Most unlike them, or any Elf I have heard tale of. Whom were you raised by?"

"Uh, my mother," You quipped with a cocked eyebrow. "Her name is [M/N]."

"And where do your kin reside? With the Rangers of Dúnadain?"

"With the what? Is that some kind of club?"

"Club?" Thorin repeated. "You believe that to be a weapon?" He gave you a disbelieving look, and you sighed.

"No, no. Where I come from, a club is a group of people that gather together and talk about stuff they like, or try to run the schools or shit like that," You were trying to explain with excessive hand movements, but you only seemed to be freaking him out.

He narrowed his eyes. In a rough and rusty language that sounded like it could be dwarvish, he said something; you didn't even catch any of the words.

You stared at him blankly for a second. "Mae g'ovannen...?" You tried, wincing at your hopeless pronunciation of the words.

Thorin regarded you with a newfound look of awe. Behind him, Dwalin chuckled. "That, was his attempt at Elvish. And you did not understand what he said?"

You stared. "...No? Was I supposed to? Did you just say something important? Or insult me? Hey, I'm only just starting to learn Sindarin!"

Thorin's look of awe shifted to a scowl and a bitter smirk. "It was not Sindarin, I can assure you. It was Quendi, that of the Noldor, the only Elvish my people know."

"Quen-- Oh, I get it now. Different Elves, different languages, it's all coming together..." You swung your arms casually. "Ok, so, what'd you say?"

"I told you that you are an imposter, and no better than Orc-filth" Said Thorin absentmindedly, "Which would send any Elf into a fit of well-groomed rage."

You couldn't help yourself. You burst into a fit of giggles, making all three dwarves look at you weirdly. "I-I'm sorry," You wheezed, "'Well-groomed rage'; yeah, that's pretty much what they do!"

"What of this quest, then?" Challenged Thorin as he took a seat. He gestured for you to do the same. "If you are not of the Wood Elves, yet you are indeed Elven, why are you on this journey? What purpose do you have here?" He poured you a drink; you'd never really tasted ale or mead of any kind, and recoiled from the smell.

"In order for you to understand, I'd have to tell you the story," You told him, and he gestured for you to continue. So you did. "I fell from the highest branches of an oak tree playing a game with my family. It was a standard day. Standard, pointless life. A life in a dying world that was way too fucking overpopulated, in the wrong damn places. It was a twisted kind of home. I didn't like it, and did what I wanted, so people hated me. I was dressed as an Elf--hence the ears.

"I wake up in the middle of the night, still in the forest, and am suddenly being chased by orcs on the backs of oversized dogs with six-packs on their faces."

Thorin grew confused. "Six-pack? What is that?"

You patted your stomach. "Those rows of six square tight muscles you get on you stomach if you work out. Now lemme finish!

"I get caught up in a river, shot by an arrow, and am half-dead by the time the Elves arrive lead by Blue-Eyes-- uh, Legolas-- and they're ready to kill me, but because I'm pretty much dead and in their forest, I'm some kind of threat. Because they're real nice like that. Thranduil-- who I kindly refer to as, Lord Fabulous-- wanted Leggy to kill me on the spot. Blade to my neck and everything. Until I pointed out that I could go home if we found the portal and would never return by pain of death. Ouch, but whatever.

"So we look, find it, and surprise! Can't get through. Can never see my family again. Can never go home. Suddenly I'm a real Elf. I go into a kind of depression before I realize that this place was a fictional world from where I'm from, which I'd loved, but for some reason can't remember shit now." You pointed to him. "Your name is important. Very. I know that much. You do something really cool, probably.

"But the Council of Wisdomy Guys was summoned, and they decided that it would be best if I proved my worthiness to stay among the Wood Elves on this mission. No pressure!" You grinned maniacally. "What brings you here? I hear a certain gray-robed wizard?"

"Ah, yes," He sighed. "Gandalf. My father met with him whilst I was in the depths of Erebor, so I heard no word of it and could make no protest against it until my father told me that I was to travel with two of my choice to assist the Elves. I only tolerate this for my father's sake, and he claims this will be a good lesson for kingship one day. But when I heard word of someone from foreign lands, I feared it was the dwarves of the Iron Hills attempting some form of scheme. Never have they liked us, and they never shall."

You scoffed. "Yeah, well... Most of the Elves may not like you either, but some of them aren't so bad."

Dwalin choked on his bread. Balin gave you a sad look. "But they tried to kill you!"

You shrugged. "I'm used to getting awful treatment. And besides, now that they know me, I've made some friends. Tauríel, the Captain of the Guard; Lindir of Rivendell, and Elros son of Elrond... And then there's Blue-- Legolas."

"Why d'ya refer to him that way?" Dwalin demanded with a disgusted look.

You shrugged. "A nickname. Where I come from, it's a gesture of friendship. I call Lindir 'Lindy' and he hates it, I can tell."

Thorin snorted. "Well, [Y/N] of Earth... Should the Wood Elves refuse your company, Dale might make a nice, temporary placement until you find elsewhere."

You smirked, nodding slowly. "I heard that emphasis on temporary. Don't worry; I thank you for your hospitality, but Lord Elrond is staying at the palace until I return. If I fail, he'll take me back to Rivendell with him."

"Good. One less Elf on our borders to deal with."

"Oh screw off."

Thorin grinned bitterly, but waved a hand. "Begone, I am done with questioning you."

You scoffed, and Dwalin took your drink and guzzled it. to your shock and amazement. Out of the three of them, only Balin wished you a goodnight.

But you weren't tired, which you realized as you found yourself heading back toward the horses. "[Y/N]," Said a familiar voice, and you turned to see Haldir striding toward you.

You bowed, suddenly recognizing him as somebody of high rank. "Mae l'ovannen, Haldir of Lothlorien. What's up?"

He blinked in confusion. "I..." He slowly looked up. "Believe the stars..."

You chuckled. "No, no; that's an expression, where I come from. It means how are you doing, what is it you need, nice to see you, etcetera etcetera."

He stared at you. "...'Et... Cetera...?'"

You slumped over. "Oi... It means a general list of similar meanings that're implied but nobody feels like saying."

Haldir smiled. "Oh, I see. Lindir wished for you to return, so that you could continue your lessons in Sindarin." He didn't miss your look of disappointment. He smirked. "Perhaps, when you are finished with Sindarin, and already know Common, Quenyan would be best for you to learn."

"Pfft," You waved a hand. "I'll live forever. Might as well. I'll toss some dwarvish in there while I'm at it."

Haldir made a face. "I suppose that is up to you, but every dwarf speaks Common, so it would not pose any form of language barrier for that to be avoided..."

*** You were woken up no later than the crack of fucking dawn, by an elaborate blowing of horns that probably alerted ninety-seven percent of the orcs of the northern borders to your presence, but oh what the hell.

What else you woke up to?

"Galu, mellon nin," Said Legolas with a shit-eating grin. "Ci maer?"

Slowly, your groggy eyes went from wide to thin, angry slits. "...I swear to the Valar, Blue-Eyes... I just fucking woke up. What are you saying? Speak in Common, or I'll tear you limb from limb because I am not a morning person."

He gave you a look, but couldn't wipe the smile off his face. "Le leich, Sairen. But if you are going to learn Elvish, then you must actually try to do so. Tell me, what did I say?"

You shrugged and slumped over onto a log. "Grapefruit, melons win, kid mobster."

Blue-Eyes chuckled, but internally, you busted out laughing after realizing what you said. "No, [Y/N], you have to do this. Concentrate. What did I say?"

With a sigh, you thought about Lindir's grueling lessons with you yesterday. "...You said, 'A blessing,' which is basically 'hi,' first; Galu. Then you said 'my friend,' and, 'are you well.'"

Blue-Eyes nodded, looking excited that you were getting the hang of Elvish. "Excellent. Now respond to me in Sindarin."

You resisted the urge to roll your eyes. In the most unenthusiastic tone you could muster, you said, "Galu, Legolas, ni maer. A gin?" Blessings, Legolas, I am well. And you?

"Ni maer," He replied, then began polishing his bow. "Worry not, Sairen, soon Sindarin will come to you thoughtlessly. You already swear to our gods, instead of your own."

You did roll your eyes this time. An idea hit you. "Hey..." You looked at him with a huge smirk. "What's fuck you in Elvish?"

Legolas paled, then blushed. "You will learn how to speak intimately to another later--"

You huffed. "NO! What's your most offensive insult?!"

Blue-Eyes thought for a minute. "...Ego, which is the equivalent to what you mean when you proclaim that Common phrase of yours... Hopefully, most of the time."

You bit back a laugh. "...Eggo? As in, L'eggo my eggo?"

Blue-Eyes gave you a concerned look. "I... I am not sure what you mean, and it is not pronounced as you say it."

Commotion started up, and you spun around in your seat wildly to try and see why everybody was suddenly moving and packing up. "What's goin' on?"

Legolas smiled. "Well, Sairen, we are off to track the orcs."

You looked at him in a panic, pointing futilely to an Elf packing up the cooking supplies. "B-but... What about breakfast?" That sentence reminded you of someone... Someone small and innocent and prone to causing disasters... But who? Blue-Eyes didn't give you time to figure it out.

"You will not starve, mellon nin," He told you gently, and stood. "You are an Eldar now; you'd best learn what your body can do now rather than later." He smiled down at you. "Dadwenithon."

As if you understood what that meant, he practically skipped away. "...Dad marathon?" You repeated in disbelief. You got up and went to find somebody you knew, preferably not the Elvenqueen, Erestor, Haldir, or Thorin, because they'd just find you childish, or annoying. Elros was quick to find, and you approached him and his palomino steed with a very confused expression.

"Hey Elros?"

Elros looked up from brushing his horse's mane and smiled. "Ai, len suilon, mellon nin. Ci maer?"

You rolled your eyes. Stupid Elves and their five hundred different ways to say 'hi...' "Galu, Elros. Ni maer, a gin?"

"Ni maer eithro. What brings you to my company?"

"What the hell does dad marathon mean?"

Elros froze and looked at you like you were crazy. "I beg your pardon?"

You gestured wildly over your shoulder. "Legolas got up, walked away, and said dad marathon! And I've got no idea what he said!"

Elros grinned knowingly. "Ai,Legolas said dadwenithon. It means, roughly, I will return." He gave you a disgusted look. "And that is not how it is pronounced at all."

"Oh. Dadwenithon?"

Elros smiled proudly. "Yes! Precisely! Well done! But if Legolas told you he would return to you, evidently he meant for you to stay where you were."

Your eyes bugged out of your head. "Oh. I'll be going, then. Novaer." You didn't realize you'd said an Elvish farewell until you'd reached where you'd originally been seated, but that jumped out of your head when you seen Legolas waiting with his dappled mare and the black stallion (Heh heh...) from yesterday.

"Ooh! What's this all about?"

"I decided you should have your own mount throughout the course of this journey," He replied with a smile. "He is yours for now. Name him as you will, and by the end of this journey, I shall see if you may keep him."

You stared at him like he'd just grown a second head. "Wh... What? Keep him?"

Legolas smiled. "Surely you would wish to ride at will throughout the northern parts of Mirkwood?"

A huge smile spread across your face, and you excitedly spread your hands. "Well, duh! Gin hannon, Legolas! I'll call him..." You took the reins and looked him in the eye. "Starlight. I've always wanted a black horse called Starlight."

Blue-Eyes patted your back. "Well done, mellon. Already, Elvish is beginning to seep into your speech."

You looked at him in surprise. "I did that on purpose you dumb blond."

Legolas's eyes widened slightly. "Man?" Which you understood as, What?

You stuck your tongue out at him and crossed your eyes. "Blehlehleh!"

He recoiled. "What are you doing?"

With a laugh, you stroked Starlight's muzzle. "Messing with you. So you get up from the left side, right?"

Blue-Eyes just looked at you like you were crazy, then shook his head. "Yes, I suppose."

You went around to the left flank of the steed, which snorted suspiciously at you, like it wanted to know what the fuck you were doing. You peered at Blue-Eyes over the stallion's back. "Gimme a leg up?"

Legolas flushed and stared at you blankly. "If that is one of your vulgar insults, I swear to Illuvatar..."

A laugh escaped your throat. "No! Hell no! It means help me up, you moron!"

A sweet smile crossed Blue-Eye's features. "Well, then, come here, mellon nin, and I will aid you." He interlaced his fingers together as he bent down, allowing you to grip both ends of the saddle, step into his hand, and haul yourself up. You nearly fell off the other side, but just managed to catch yourself before you made yourself look like a complete idiot in front of Blue-Eyes, who noticed your struggle but said nothing, to your sweet relief.

Elros trotted through camp on his palomino, saying "Und wendo'hein!"

Legolas mounted his dapple-gray, and looked you up and down. "You are not sitting correctly." He told you, and reached over to pull your shoulders back. "Your shoulders need to make a line to your ankles in the stirrups."

You rolled your eyes sarcastically. "Great, now you sound like my collection of Young Rider magazines."

"Your what?" Legolas looked almost offended.

"It's basically a book only about twenty pages long made of cheap paper and filled with random tidbits of information. This series I started collecting when I was eight or nine, then continued until I was about twelve, thirteen... I had a lot of them. I loved horses."

Blue-Eyes furrowed his brow. "Did you have one?"

You scoffed. "In my world, you either have to be rich like Saddle Club or own a farm like Racing Stripes. Or, by some miracle get saved by a badass black Arabian stallion on a desert island." You smiled cheekily at him. "Which, by the way, your facial structure really reminds me of an Arabian horse's. Dished, kinda. And perfect and majestic and all that shit."

Blue-Eyes just looked like he was suddenly being attacked by a pack of savage wargs and he wasn't quite sure what to do. You grinned, and did the first thing all of the books and movies you'd read as a kid had taught you: gently tap your heels into the horse's flanks, and carefully guide their head with the reins. Starlight tossed his head, eager to get moving at a faster pace, and nickered softly as he started off at a walk. Legolas beamed at you as he rode beside you. "Well well, Sairen, it seems you are a natural at riding a horse. Perhaps the blood of the Eldar is finally starting to take a hold of you."

"Not quite," Said a new voice, and Lindir rode up on a sleek bay with a mischievous smile. "Suilad, Legolas! [Y/N]! Your Elvish is improving, but you still need to learn more."

You slumped in the saddle. "Augh, man, do I have to?"

Legolas and Lindir grinned wickedly at each other. "Ai, Lindir, man í lú?"

"Ú, Legolas. Eithro, ci maer?"

"Ni maer, mellon nin, ni maer."

So for a whole five or six hours on the trip, you got bombarded on either side by Blue-Eyes and Lindir trying to teach you Sindarin. At the end of the day, the Elvenqueen asked you for another story, so you told her the first one that popped into your head that you could honestly remember most of: Alladin's Lamp. It had been your favorite fairytail as a child, and while it was meant for younger audiences, the Elves enjoyed it just as much.

Then, Thorin asked to see you again. He asked about your world, and what it was like, and you were happy to get to know them, even if you were an Elf now.

And that's how it went, for the next few weeks. Unfortunately, at some point you'd run out of memorized storybooks, so you focused on myths from various mythologies, and then, even movies. 300 seemed to be a favorite of Thorin's, who overheard, but the Elves were especially interested in Gods of Egypt and The Hunger Games, and the Jedi from Star Wars. When you ran out of that material (It was a long trip with long nights, because apparently Elves didn't really get the concept of sleep.), you even switched to games; Darksiders and The Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim got their attention, as did The Legend of Zelda.

But of all the damned stories you told them, they seemed most interested in Shakespeare, of all things. You only barely remembered reading Midsummer Night's Dream out of curiosity, but Romeo and Juliet, thankfully, everybody knew the gist of. Thanks to a certain Tom Hiddleston, you knew Coriolanus by heart, so that one wasn't too hard of a story to tell, and neither was (Onc you finally got them off of Shakespeare.) Pirates of the Caribbean, a classic for you, which, one of the characters, now that you thought of it... Will Turner... You couldn't quite remember his face, or Balian's from Kingdom of Heaven, which they all really liked, especially Legolas.

Eventually, the queen dubbed you Taleweaver, which you thought sounded pretty cool, but also a little nerve-wracking, because what if you ran out of stories to tell? You forced yourself to be casual. No worries. You were a writer, after all, just... Now your audience consisted of fantasy people instead of Tumblr bloggers.

No pressure.

One day, Legolas approached you alone as you groomed Starlight. "Yo," You said, s'upping him. "S'up?"

Blue-Eyes looked like you'd just thrown something at him. "Man?" You rolled your eyes. "Galu, mellon, galu. What is it?"

Legolas scoffed. "My mother has declared only a small party of us, including the dwarves, shall scout ahead and see if we can find their trail. Of the party is myself, Elros, Erestor, Haldir, and... you."

You pointed to yourself. "M...Me? The queen specifically requested me to go with you?" You narrowed your eyes suspiciously. "Whhhhhhyyyyyyy???"

Blue-Eyes glared at you as he stroked Starlight's muzzle. "It is nothing out of the ordinary. You wish to prove yourself to my father, do you not? I would like for you to stay in the Mirkwood as well, Sairen, so do not disappoint me."

"Well," You looked up at Starlight's face. "No pressure, right?"

Legolas smiled cheekily. "Not at all." He patted your back. "We begin at dawn tomorrow. Meet me by Starlight once you've woken, and we shall begin." He walked away, but half-turned to call out, "Do not be late!"

You nodded in exasperation, but as soon as he was gone, sighed and placed your face on Starlight's neck. "Mission," You hissed under your breath, just really wishing Lord Fabulous didn't have to be such a jackass. "Impossible."

Tag List:

@hauntedsiriel @tesserphantom @liviaolivia @dumbladores @littlefrenchfryesblog @hibernatingmadhatter @reclusive-chicken-nugget @naryamirie @legolasdeserveslove @escapingthoughtsandsecrets @sagabriar @brushwood-souls @taurlel

If anyone else wants to be tagged, just let me know! And let me know if I missed anyone, too... O-O

Le leich= You’re sweet

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mahvaladara · 4 years

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Shah Talks - Simblr, George Floyd, Racism and Accountability

Non of you need to know, from a white person, why racism is bad and why reverse racism doesn’t exist and why you need to be held accountable for your actions. We all know that, but it seems some people still think there’s no racism.

Racism is a problem.

Long talk ahead.

Now, racism is not a problem of “late”. Racism has always been a problem.

Police has been killing black men and women for decades, people have been saying racist remarks for decades, people have had racist behaviours for decades.

It is not a problem of late, every few weeks someone is being called out on simblr, SIMBLR, a Sims tumblr community, for being racist. And you’d think there’s nothing about sims to do with race, but there is!

In a game you can literally make purple vampire alien dragons if you have the right mods, a world with no sims of colour is a red flag.

The latest problem in the simblr community was related to racism.

I don’t know both sides of the story, so I will take a neutral stance. But I do agree it is fair for people, for the followers of our stories to see more diversity expressed in them, to see their own ethnicities and groups portrayed respectfully in stories and not just as caricatures or token.

It’s like Tolkien saying there are no black people in his world because it’s a fantasy world. So basically, you created your own world, with talking trees, and you decided it didn’t need black people, just caucasian people of tall, dwarven, normal and hobbit sizes. So four different species of white people, but not black people, or people with different skin colours and ethnicities, just a bunch of different white people who are very tall and can have blond or white hair depending.

So basically racist.

I mean, if it was Avatar and you decided to say my world has no black people and no white people either because it’s a fantasy world where it’s inhabitants are all tall, lanky blue apes and not humans. Cool, makes sense. Not human.

But if you create a world with humans, and don’t give humans any different skin colours (as if the sun and tans and melanin and evolution don’t make part of humans) because it’s a fantasy world? I’m sorry, but it’s not because magic means the sun doesn’t hate us, it’s because you’re a racist who doesn’t like black people so don’t want them represented in your media or world.

The person of colour does not have the duty to educate them about it, but I think it should stand as a way for the person that was called out to look well at what they have done and how to fix it.

Give them a chance to better themselves. But if they don’t improve, call them out. Don’t let it go!

AND RIGHTFULLY SO!

And for the person called out? It is a chance to grow, instead of running away.

Because you know what? I was a teen once, and I was young and ignorant once, and we grow, we learn and we evolve. It is up to you to know if you wish to grow or remain in the dark ages.

This just to show, racism is transversal to every topic, every community and every platform. And it’s not an issue of late.

What’s really happening is that people, namely white racist assholes, don’t like how vocal people have become towards racism and towards stopping it. And it’s letting some people (racists) very uncomfortable.

And that is good! We should not stand for racism. We should not let people get away with racism. And people should be very vocal about it. We should make them very uncomfortable!

It’s 2020, nothing justifies four types of jokes: racist jokes, homophobic jokes, sexists joke and rape jokes.

(If we’re lucky and Covid teaches us anything to mankind, by 4040 we can also outlaw blond jokes).

On twitter, facebook, reddit and even here, on tumblr I have been following actively the news. I am a supporter of the Black Lives Matter movement, so I have been watching what happened to George Floyd and the riots and this terrible, terrible tragedy. It has actually crossed international waters.

Not kidding.

Like today at work, this french kid who practices Taekwondo with me shared the “I can’t breath” poem and I am like: Oh my dragons! Make this shit be heard! Yes! Cross sea boundaries. Black lives matter!!" And of course, there was that white dick commenting on it, being a racist asshole.

(I have actually learned something from tumblr. I don’t block anyone on tumblr, I like to give them a chance here to redeem themselves, but I have certainly started blocking people on Facebook. So many racists, everywhere... So many idiots...)

And today the internet has brought something very dangerous for racists.

And that is ACCOUNTABILITY!

You no longer can be a closet racist, or just racist with your friends, or a joke racist. Basically RACIST, because people will find out and call you out. It’s not cool to do racist jokes anymore.

AND RIGHTFULLY SO!

(Reminds me when Borat came out and those two kids who made sexist remarks on film without knowing got a fine. I hope they learnt from this experience, grew up and are now better people - they probably didn’t, they’re probably still sexist dicks).

Nowadays if you’re racist online expect to be fucking crucified.

AND RIGHTFULLY SO!

Now they no longer can be racist pricks because the world won’t find it as funny as their racist prick friends do.

Boohoo.

White girl tears.

(I never got this term. My tears are usually of pure unfiltered rage, pretty sure you can light them up on fire).

Now, on simblr I have tried to stay out of “drama”, as people sometimes like to call it, but a man’s death, an innocent’s man’s murder is not drama you stay out of! The abuse of authority that causes the suffocation and murder of a man is not something you should choose to stay out off.

I let my privilege speak for me.

I am caucasian. Fate decided I should be white (tan easily and get vitiligo. Because fuck you, you get localized sunburns for the rest of your life). And as a white and furthermore european person I will never experience racism. I will experience other things, such as sexism, queerphobia or ableism, BUT racism is something I will never experience.

Because of this I have the privilige to chose not to comment on it. But this is what is wrong, choosing not to comment on an issue just because it doesn’t affect you is a problem!

By being quiet you are being compliant and an accomplice of problem displayed. It’s like if you just saw someone be bullied and you decided to be quiet instead of warning the teachers!

You just helped that bully ruin another kid’s day!

The same way, if you stay quiet, just allowed a murderer to get away with killing another black man.

Because truth is, this affects us all.

This affects PEOPLE! This is what humanity is! People, white’s, blacks, reds, yellows, greens, grays, pinks, blues and purples, bieges and browns. But Caucasians are safe, everyone else is in danger, with black people being the ones more affected by this!

The great problem is this, racists, white people, somehow have divided humanity in two. Whites, and People of colour.

(I’m not even going to throw religion into the mix because Akatosh knows that’s one can of worms not even Namira will willingly open!)

It may be the result of decades of racial societal segregation and even continental division that has lead us all to think in an “us-them” mentality, but it is time to stop this.

This is dangerous, for we should not stand idly while people are being abused, opressed, persecuted, having their rights stripped or their lives violated just because some trigger happy asshole thinks he deserves to be alive more because he gets to look like a lobster if he tans too long.

(Racism is white people being jealous at the fact the sun hates us *shrugs*. Just saying.)

And the anger white people, racists, feel when called out is ebcause they don’t want to be held accountable for being dicks to “the others”.

“But he is great man. It’s just black people he doesn’t like.”

If you’re shity to people just because they have more melanin than you, you’re not “a great man”, you’re a racist prick.

White people, RACISTS, hate being held accountable for being racists, they hate being called out by the outrage of people rightfully have against them.

And what does a racist do when he’s held accountable for his behaviour?

Cue in:

“Well” Reverse Racism exists too!”

No. It doesn’t!

Let’s talk about George Floyd.

Now, I’m not going to speak on the why and how it happened. There are literally videos on it.

But, as someone who practices martial arts, who is trained by a cop I have been thinking.

If you are a person and you have the strength to immobilize an adult man and hold him crushed by the neck with your knee under you, you clearly have the strength necessary to easily handcuff and throw this same man in the back of police car without the need to FLAT OUT MURDER HIM. Because this is what happened, MURDER.

A police officer killed a man just because.

Homicide!

Now, I am not going to talk about the allegations or the accusations that lead to this event, because they don’t matter. They don’t change the fact that a police officer, a man whose duty is to protect the public and uphold the law, killed by choking, an already handcuffed and immobilized unarmed man, to death.

Now, in the comments on the whole tragedy, there were comments about him resisting arrest officer fearing for his life. Now, I am sorry, but if you’re that strong, strong enough to hold an adult man crushed and struggling under you, your life? It’s not in danger!

Even if he resisted arrest, again, they immobilized him, handcuffed him, from there on, the police officer’s actions are unjustified. It is disgusting what the officer did. Murder happened on that day.

My Taekwondo master, a police officer, is a skinny man, and slightly taller than me. Which isn’t much because I’m like probably 5′4 in the USA metric system. The man’s a hobbit, and I have seen that hobbit of a man throw and immobilize a man twice his size and weight like he was a ragdoll in seconds!

So don’t tell me that cop had to do that, because that is bullshit.

George was not carrying weapons, he was not resisting. All he wanted was to breath and live and he wasn’t allowed either. George was murdered.

That cop was neither alone or in danger. That cop acted on whatever delusions of power and justified racism and killed a man just because he could and he knew there wouldn’t be any accountability.

Normaly. But we have the internet. And the internet tell us it’s not the first time this cop abuses his authority.

But!

Because there’s always a butt.

Somewhere along the line appears the comment: “You white people are the ones that are dangerous to us.”

Wait, that’s not the but. That’s actually true.

I think that if that white Karen in that NY park taught us anything is that that comment is 100% true. White people hold the power to harm people of colour with just a phone call. And that is very dangerous and very scary for any black man or woman, to any person of colour, to anyone who doesn’t appear “white”.

Because this again takes us to that divide, where these people, these heartless racist assholes see “The White (TM)” and “The Others(TM)” as two different things. "The White” don’t see “the others” as people, so they don’t see the harm in their actions and they don’t think they should be held accountable because they’re not really harming “people”, in their twisted mindset. So when you yell “you’re racist” you’re suddenly calling out their behaviour and holding them accountable for it and telling them “this isn’t okay!”.

Now, comment section. Facebook comment, section, twitter comment threads are where the gold is. There is where you find the people to block. Where you find the racists, the ignoramous and the idiots. And, as a therapist, I love reading them.

And there it was. The ugly can of worms, thrown straight as an answer to the above comment. The dreaded monster - “Reverse racism”.

“*annoying Karen voice* You can't say that! That’s reverse racism.” Followed by the obvious slew of not all white people are like that.

And you’re right, not all white people want to harm black people or people of any other ethnicity. But that doesn’t change the fact that they are dangerous still because they will always have the racial upperhand.

But saying “all white people are evil” is not reverse racism. It is discrimination, though that sounds more like a joke, but definitely not racism. If there’s two black men walking down the street and they step to the other side upon seeing my white ass, they are not racist, they may be discriminative by thinking I may pose a danger to them, but they certainly aren’t “reverse racists”.

If a white person, a person in a position of power, a person from a specific ethnic group known for oppressing other ethnicities, were to say “Black people are good only for basketball”, that’d be racist.

If a black person was to say “All white people want slaves”, it would be prejudice.

Racism is discrimination or prejudices based on beliefs imposed, unwillingly, in minority groups of another race by the oppressing or majority race. All prejudices have been imposed, mocked, caricatured and created by white people and placed on people of colour and other ethnicities. Every single racial prejudice was created by a white person. “Latinos are drug lords, blacks are thugs, asians are cheap, jews are greedy.” And so on, so on, so on.

Prejudices in white people however, are born from cultural differences and NOT race, and are usually created by other white people. These prejudices have no weight, whatsoever in the wellbeing or opportunities white people have access to, while racist prejudices actively hinder the life of people colour and put them in danger.

Portuguese people who are caucasian have this cultural prejudice that we are always late, but if I go to a job offer at no point will this cultural prejudice hinder my chances to get a job.

It is this main difference that makes it so clear, there’s no reverse racism! There is discrimination, but not racism.

Second thing is that most prejudices associated to white people can literally be applied to anyone, while racist ones instantly connect to one specific minority group.

Thirdly, often reasons of discrimination towards white people result of previous experiences, needs for self-preservation, or equalitarian policies of opportunities given to minorities harmed by racism.

One common complaint white people have against black people are towards scholarships given only to specific communities and minority groups, very common in USA. Though these scholarships can be considered discriminative in a positive way because it helps people less fortunate to have opportunities, they are not racist. For a matter of fact, these policies often exist to try and fix what racism and segregation have caused.

This doesn’t make it racist because it does not, in any way affect the ability for a white person to reach the exact same opportunities.

Again, it is only racist when a prejudice associated with your race affects your safety, your access to opportunities, the way people treat you or see you.

So it can’t be reverse racism because discrimination towards white people usually affects other people too and it’s rarely ever caused by their race alone.

And this can of worms is a long one.

And I have so much more to say, but this has gotten so long and way out of control I think I’ll end it here.

Bottom line.

Stop being a racist dick.

Be vocal when someone is acting wrong.

And Reverse Racism is bullshit.

Also sign the petitions to bring justice to George Floyd. This man has died, brutally murdered by an officer, no amount of justice will ever fix this, but making sure the officers that allowed this to happen will never have the power to do it to another black man, woman, person again should be the first step of bringing justice to his family.

And if I said anything here that was wrong or inaccurate, don’t hesitate to let me know.

This was Shah,

Stay safe, be vocal and don’t let wrongdoings slide away.

I’m done here.

#shah talks #racism #george floyd #reverse racism isn't real

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kurtbastian-land · 5 years

Text

I Would

Summary: It was another typical day with the Warblers. Blaine has found a new crush and decides the most appropriate way to confess to him is through a song. Who cares if they’ve only met and talked once? It’s not like his soulmate would have a boyfriend... right?

“He is just amazing, you guys. He’s funny, beautiful and his voice. You should hear his voice. I swear, it’s like angels talking to me.”

Sebastian raised an eyebrow at the gushing Blaine Anderson was making as he entered the music room for the usual Warbler’s practice. It wasn’t that he has anything against Anderson. His family was as rich as he was, and Sebastian could see the appeal the latter have on some of the guys in school. Hell, even he tried to tap that when he first transferred but then he realises that Blaine Anderson was... well... kinda bland. Kinda like... flour. Not that he has anything against flour either. Flour is pretty useful, making the most delicious pastries that Sebastian grew up eating whereas Blaine makes funny faces and screeches whenever he tries to put emotions to songs.

“Aww, look, the excited puppy looks as though he’s going to wet himself over a boy,” Sebastian cooed as he took his usual spot on the couch, “the last time I checked, that Jeremy dude, or whatever his name was from the GAP attack incident, wasn’t that remotely breathtaking.”

“It’s Jeremiah, Seb,” Blaine corrected the latter, “and he’s nothing like Jeremiah. I would introduce you to him but he’s too good for you. And I don’t want you trying to get him into bed for just a night.”

“You’ve talked to him once,” Sebastian pointed out because someone had to and it’s clearly not Blaine’s fanboys. The amount of times Blaine falls for a guy is getting close to ridiculous.

“Once is enough to know if you’re someone’s soulmate.”

Rolling his eyes at the haughtiness tone Blaine decided to take upon, Sebastian resisted the urge to gag and leaned back into the sofa, placing his legs on the coffee table. It was no secret that Sebastian loves to flaunt his promiscuity to others, an image he held up proudly, like a badge of honour even if they weren’t quite as true as they were in the beginning. Fishing out his phone from his slacks, a small smile made its way on his face as he opened up his latest text.

Quickly typing a response, Sebastian threw a glance at Blaine who was still avidly talking about his new crush and how it was so obvious that the latter was into him. Sometimes, he wonders what is it like to be Blaine. To be so wonderfully naive, to have his head so stuck up in his own ass. Must be terribly... awful, Sebastian decided. Well, one thing’s for sure, he can’t wait to see the mess of this next serenade is going to be.

“Okay guys, he’s over there. With his group of friends,” Blaine nudged his head towards the direction of the object of his interest.

The Warblers were standing at the entrance of The Lima Bean, in their trademark blazers, taking a quick peek at a group of high schooler happily chatting in the coffee shop, trying to figure who has caught their leader’s heart after one meet up.

“Can we just get this over and done with,” Sebastian complained as he pocketed his phone, clearly displaying no interest in Blaine’s boy, “position Warblers.”

On command, the Warblers shifted into their assigned position, with Blaine front and centre, as always, regardless of the occasion. The moment Blaine opens the door, the Warblers at the back began to harmonize a tune that has been familiarised over the past week.

Lately I found myself thinking

Been dreaming about you a lot

And up in my head I'm your boyfriend

But that's one thing you've already got

The Warblers entered the establishment uniformly, quickly shifting to wear places could fit them. Clearly, Blaine didn’t take into consideration the tables and chairs that would be present during their performance.

Sebastian squinted slightly, as he tried to figure out who is Blaine exactly singing to amongst the group of students that were sitting around the table. Obviously the blonde and the short brunette were out of the question, because, duh, girls. So what was only left in the group was a giant of a teen, another blondie with lips you can see from a mile away and... Kurt?

He drives to school every morning

While I walk alone in the rain

He'd kill me without any warning

If he took a look in my brain

Oh no no no. The hobbit wouldn’t. He wouldn’t be so fucking stupid to...

Sebastian watched as Blaine broke away from the Warblers, walking straight to the dumbfounded Kurt, eyes wide open, mouth agape, face turning a shade of red Sebastian have yet made Kurt turn to. And honestly, it’s pissing him off a little that he wasn’t going to be the first one to do so. That wasn’t the only thing pissing him off. His eyes started to twitch as Blaine got closer to his target.

Would he say he's in L-O-V-E

Well if it was me then I would, I would

Would he hold you when you're feeling low

Baby you should know that I would

Would he say he's in L-O-V-E

Well if it was me then I would, I would

Would he hold you when you're feeling low

Baby you should know that I would

I would

“Okay, hobbit!” Sebastian barked when Blaine grabbed Kurt’s hand, pulling him up to his feet, “I normally wouldn’t care who you make us serenade to, because it’ll always end up to you embarrassing yourself but you singing to my boyfriend is where I’m drawing the line.”

The Warblers watched in stunned silence as Sebastian took large strides away from the group, shoving Blaine aside, causing the latter to stumble slightly as he placed his arm around Kurt’s waist, pulling him close. Whispers and murmurings could be heard almost immediately at the sudden turn of events.

“Looks like inappropriate Blaine struck again.”

“Does he have like a checklist to complete or something? First outing a guy, now serenading to someone unavailable. What’s next? Singing to a straight guy?”

Blaine immediately flushed when the Warblers started chattering behind him. “I.... but...” Blaine stuttered at the sudden turn of events

Clenching his jaw, he pointed accusingly at Sebastian who was currently glaring at him. “You knew about this the whole time and you didn’t think to tell me that you’re dating Kurt?”

“You didn’t even mention his name, you idiot,” Sebastian snapped at the latter.

“I pointed at him when we were outside!”

“Have you ever seen me giving a fuck about who’s your latest crush?”

Eyes were constantly moving back and forth as Blaine and Sebastian continued to argue, no one willing to give in over the latest mess.

“What would Kurt ever see in a manwhore like you,” Blaine sneered, tilting his chin upwards to make up for the lack of height he has against the latter.

“That’s enough Blaine,” Kurt cut in sharply, eyes throwing daggers at the boy who decided it was appropriate to suddenly start serenading to him in a public establishment, with no warning whatsoever and still had the decency to try and put the blame on Sebastian.

“I don’t know you. I’ve met you once, on pure accident because you looked like a sad puppy who got kicked in the stomach multiple time.”

“But...”

“I’ve met you once and I did not lead you on or showed any signs in being interested. I’ve. Met. You. Once.” Kurt emphasised, stressing each word, hoping that it’ll get through Blaine’s apparent thick skull that is currently being protected by an equally thick gelled down hair, “and quite frankly, I don’t want to want to be friends with you if you happen to think slut-shaming my boyfriend is appropriate.

Smiling to himself, Sebastian couldn’t resist placing a quick kiss on Kurt’s temple before quickly sticking out his tongue at Blaine. “Yea hobbit, I would. So you can scurry your little ass away and take the corny ass song with you.”

Blaine opened and closed his mouth, trying to figure out the words to say to somehow make himself look better. But when he couldn’t, Blaine snapped his mouth shut and turned around to storm off. The Warblers started at each other awkwardly, not knowing what to do or say, their minds trying so desperately to wrap around the most pressing news at the moment.

Sebastian Smythe, Dalton’s residential playboy, has a boyfriend. A serious boyfriend.

Thad awkwardly cleared his throat, nodding in Sebastian’s direction. “I’ll take it that you’re staying here while the rest of the Warblers take their leave?”

Sebastian grinned and gave a little wave to send them off. Once they were out of sight, Sebastian turned to Kurt, eyebrow raised, “so Blaine was the self-absorbed guy you were talking about?”

“So the serenade you’ve been preparing this past week was for me, led by Blaine?” Kurt shoots back, a teasing glint in his eye.

Before Sebastian could reply, he noticed Kurt’s group of friends staring at them wide-eyed, especially the brunette with bangs and one ugly as hell animal sweater. Sebastian raised an eyebrow and gave a small wave. That seemed to wake the girl in some kind of trance as she stood up, chair screeching against the marble floor.

Kurt quickly turned around and noticed Rachel standing, finger pointing accusingly to his boyfriend. “Oh no,” he muttered under his breath, “please do-“

“SPYYY!” Rachel screeched, causing the other patrons of the coffee shop who went back to minding their business, quickly turned to see what kind of commotion these high schoolers are making now.

“Friends of yours babe?” Sebastian winced at shrillness of her voice.

Kurt nodded his head begrudgingly as he buried his face into the crook of Sebastian’s neck.

“Do you mind if we could-“

“No Bas, I am not going to switch Rachel for Blaine.”

“Damn it.”

#kurt hummel #kurtbastian #sebastian smythe #blaine anderson #lol!blaine #kurtbastian fic #my fic #song: one direction - i would #warblers

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enter-fandom · 5 years

Text

The Long Road (Part 5)

Fandom: The Hobbit Pairing: Thorin x Reader Rating: General Warnings: General, Canon Compliant Violence Theme: N/A Request: N/A Words: 1,453 Status: Part 5 Notes: Spiders. Spiders and forests and muddy heads. I am SO SORRY this took so long to post, to those of you who read it. Life has been so hectic of late, and I really do apologize. A lot of my wait was because I like to be ahead, and I just finished part 6 a few weeks ago, and am now working on part 7. I will try and be more consistent. And now, On with the tale.

You woke the next morning to unexpected warmth, the hum of bees flying through the space and the chatter of voices. You thought, for a moment, you were back at camp, at the Faire, but the prickles of hay under your skin quickly dashed that thought, and you roused more fully, blinking at Thorin’s coat wrapped snugly around you. Standing, you straightened your armor and stretched, before taking the coat to return to Thorin, finding him with the others at the door, Bilbo close behind. With a silent nod of thanks, you passed the garment back, turning your attention to Gandalf.

“The last person who startled him was torn to shreds,” he cautioned, looking over the Dwarves in warning.

As he headed out with Bilbo, you took space next to Bofur to watch out the window, shaking your head some. Beorn was intimidating even at a distance, tall, broad, and built of lean muscle that could rip even an Orc to pieces of he so desired. There were clear signs of the bear in his features, and when he mentioned going near the Goblins had been stupid, you laughed at how right he was, barely managing to keep Bofur from sending the first pair out. “That's not the signal,” you hissed, giving him a look.

“It's not?”

You shook your head, and Gandalf glanced over his shoulder, an almost relieved look that none of you had revealed yourselves yet. Gandalf continued, admitting that several of you were Dwarrow, and you waited, sensing the time was right, “Dwalin and Balin.”

The pair went, and Beorn shifted his axe, but did not brandish it, eyeing the pair warily, before asking, “How many?”

“In the Company? Sixteen, including Bilbo and myself.”

Oin and Gloin went next, Beorn watching beleagueredly, “And what are a Halfling and a Wizard doing travelling with fifteen Dwarves?”

“Actually, there's only fourteen.”

Dori, Nori, and Ori managed their way out next, Ori barely managing not to trip over his own feet, allowed to go as a trio to push Bombur out on his own. Halfway there. Without waiting for instructions, Fili and Kili made their way, smiling despite the sight of the shapechanger before them. As if emboldened, Bifur and Bofur scrambled out, tugging Bombur in their wake and earning a sigh from Gandalf. You'd tried, at least. Moving from your perch, you glanced to Thorin, gesturing to the door.

With a nod, you both joined the rest, Beorn's eyes lingering, before gesturing back toward the great house, “It seems I am to have a party.”

You hunched over the large table, eating as you listened to the talk around you. Your heart went out to Beorn, and when he mentioned Mirkwood, you nodded. He was not wrong about Thranduil and his kin. They would not be hospitable, but there was fear you had little choice. When Beorn agreed to help you, there was silence from the rest, but you offered him a smile, “Thank you.”

Despite knowing it was the best way, and being glad to not have to walk, you weren't overly fond of the fact that you were about to be on a pony. While you loved the animals, and had wanted to learn to ride as a child, you'd never gotten the chance to. It wasn't until you were an adult and began working Faire that you had the opportunity to learn, and while competent, you weren't often enough on horseback to feel truly comfortable. At least with you there, Bilbo wasn't the only one grumbling about it even quietly.

It was quicker, as well. On foot, it might have even been enough of a delay to keep you from reaching the mountain in time. You rode with silence and haste, to reach the mountain and flee the Orcs who might yet follow, until danger no longer felt as if it were at your back, the company already chattering and singing around you.

Their more merry spirits lifted your own, and your voice rose softly at first, growing in strength as they fell silent to listen.

Are you going to Scarborough Fair? Parsley, sage, rosemary, and thyme; Remember me to one who lives there, For she was once a true love of mine. Tell her to make me a cambric shirt, Parsley, sage, rosemary, and thyme; Without any seam or needlework, Then she shall be a true love of mine. Tell her to wash it in yonder well, Parsley, sage, rosemary, and thyme; Where never sprung water or rain ever fell, And she shall be a true lover of mine. Tell her to dry it on yonder thorn, Parsley, sage, rosemary, and thyme; Which never bore blossom since Adam was born, Then she shall be a true lover of mine.

“Is there more, lass?” Bofur broke the spell of silence, glancing back at you from his place ahead, curious eyes looking at you.

You shrugged, “There are other versions, and an answer as well, from his former love. In response to his impossible requests, she asks some of her own, and says once his are done, so hers will be. It's rather sad.” They nodded, but didn't ask for you to sing the rest, instead lifting their own songs, some familiar to you from the books.

You traveled in such a way to four more sunrises, before reaching the borders of the woods, an ominous feeling seeping into your bones. You knew what waited, the loss of the path, the great spiders, and at the center of it all, Thranduil. You could only hope to not fall victim to the forest’s spell, to keep your wits about you. Uncertain of your success, you shifted nervously, gaze moving fitfully between the forest and those you called friend. Fear had touched you on the Quest so far, but this? It was not a monster you could fight.

In you went, quiet and focused, telling yourself the story in your head. The deeper you went, the harder it became, feeling trapped and muddled. What day was it? Had it been a day? You'd stopped to camp but had it truly been time? The air was thick and stale, and it wasn't until you came to the river once more that you felt your wits about you. The bridge was out. You had to find a way across.

You nearly fell, pulled up to safety by strong hands and when you looked up, you briefly saw the smiling face of your stepfather before it shifted, Thorin watching you with quiet concern. It was a trick of the forest, yet still it pulled at your heart. He had taken you to your first Faire as a teen, gifted you your first sword, the one now at your side, and taught you to use it. He never said it with words, but considered you his own.

He had talked at length with you about fantasy, broadened your knowledge of authors, and teased you over your love of Hobbits. He never did get to see your love of Dwarves.

You watched as Thorin drew his bow, aiming at the white stag in the distance, dread in you though you weren't sure why. “No.”

The arrow missed, Bilbo musing that it was bad luck, and you scoffed at Thorin's response.

Nobody saved Bombur from the fate you nearly faced.

It was much the same after that, disorienting, stifling, you trudged on, unable to truly help carry the sleeping dwarf, and not envying the others in that task. You didn't hear the voices, but you knew. You knew something was coming, but what?

The path was left behind you, despite Bilbo's protests, and deep in your mind you saw the wisdom of his words, but still you followed Thorin, better than the Dwarrow, but far more lost than Bilbo.

He went up, while you circled, hand on the hilt of your sword as you tried to find what watched you, what would have been a piercing shriek dying on your lips as the Spider claimed its prize.

The Dwarves fought in their webbed prisons, and you felt woozy, listless, dropping to the forest floor and already feeling the bruises. Kili cut you free, and you pushed yourself up with roots and branches, defending yourself though you put up little fight. Bundled along by the group as you moved until the elves showed, a brief moment of relief, despite knowing what came next.

The soldiers raised a brow as they searched you, confused not only by a human among their captured Dwarves, but the contents of your pack. It was returned to you all the same, and you sighed, unsteady on your feet as you began to walk.

#the hobbit #reader insert #Female reader #multiple parts #part 5 #eventually thorinxreader #Thorin Oakenshield #thorin and company #thorin

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barduil · 7 years

Text

B’S FIC LIST

It’s been a while since my last multi-fandom fic list, so I thought I’d remake one. I didn’t include anything from before 2016 except one fic since they’re all… pretty bad, I mean it was my first year of writing, so yeah… but anyway!

This list includes all the stories of mine I think are worth sharing, in chronological order, as well as the fanarts and/or aesthetics that go with them :) There’s quite a wide variety of settings and tropes, so if you’re new to my writing, you should hopefully find something that pleases you! Here we go!

** are personal favourites

THE HOBBIT

Petrichor (Bard/Thranduil) 14.5k, General Audiences, reincarnation, modern world, bookstore, books and cats • aesthetic, fanart 1, fanart 2, fanart 3, fanart 4

It's been six thousand years since Thranduil last laid eyes on his husband - Bard. The world has changed and the great Elvenking with it, lingering in the shadows of Men; as hope for a miracle festers within his heart that grows weaker with every passing day, the only thing keeping him going is a promise he made, many moons ago.

Those Colours We Share (Bard/Thranduil) 84.7k, Mature, soulmates, slow burn, 50s, post-war, animal shelter, sexual content • aesthetic (links to fanarts included in the caption)

Had anyone told them, Thranduil Oropherion and Bard Bowman would never have believed they would see the world painted in colours again. Until that fateful day of December 1956, when one little boy entered a former soldier's animal shelter.

Forgotten Roads (Bard/Thranduil) 61.8k, Teen and Up Audiences, fantasy, roadtrip, creatures, shapeshifting, slow burn, asexual characters • aesthetic, fanart

When Bard's secret was revealed, he had no choice but to accept exile. Sent away with no hopes of ever being trusted or seeing his children again, Bard wandered across the country without purpose. Now comes a man with the promise of a new life at the end of a long journey, should he accept the stranger's request: to lead him through lands and dangers long forgotten, in quest of hope long lost.

Somewhere Only We Know** (Bard/Thranduil) 10.6k, General Audiences, Middle-earth, past major character death, fix-it • aesthetic 1, fanart 1, fanart 2, fanart 3

When the eighteenth month since Bard's death comes, Thranduil wakes on a strange feeling. He follows a mysterious blue orb through the ill trees of his forest, where he is shown precious memories of his ephemeral time with Bard. But is it a trick of his mind, a dream, or reality?

Crimson Water (Bard/Thranduil) 30.8k, Teen and Up Audiences, merpeople, merman Bard, childhood friends, forbidden friendship, forbidden love • aesthetic, fanart

“You're different,” it added, tilting its head slightly to the side. Thranduil meant to answer, but in one swift movement it turned, and disappeared under the water.

Bright Eyes (Bard/Thranduil) 2.7k, General Audiences, soulmates, tooth-rotting fluff, sequel to Those Colours We Share • aesthetic

Tilda bakes cake, Thranduil sings Disney songs, and Bard slow dances with an unusual partner.

hope, lost and found again, by the forgotten lake (Bard/Thranduil) 9.1k, General Audiences, fairy tales elements, centaur Thranduil

“Are you real?” Bard eventually asked, eyes wide. He held up his hand, and from the tip of his finger, poked at the centaur’s flank.

what was found and lost behind** (Bard/Thranduil) 11.3k, Teen and Up Audiences, post-war, 30s, reunions, father-daughter relationship, happy ending • aesthetic, fanart 1, fanart 2

Bard's been followed by ghosts all his life. When he and his family move to London, he doesn't expect one of those ghosts to come back from the dead—nor to be faced with his past, long concealed in a forgotten, old journal.

Warm, Cracked Hearts (Bard & his kids) 2.1k, General Audiences, character study, family, asexual character, angst, anxiety

One cold evening of winter, Bard faces the worries of his children.

What We Want (Bard/Thranduil) 4.7k, General Audiences, university, asexual characters, slice of life, fluff, angst? I don’t know her, slow burn

Bard couldn’t be seriously annoyed with the project—he was glad something had allowed them the possibility of becoming friends. Even if it was something as frustrating as a huge assignment.

THE SILMARILLION

Under the Moonlight (Maedhros & Elrond) 2.4k, General Audiences, angst, adoptive father-son relationship • aesthetic

Elrond was no fool; such tears were not of a pain any medicine could heal. There was something else to them, too: they weren't just tears one spends in grief of kin or family. Elrond couldn't quite explain it, and so he asked, “Who is it, that you cry for?”

Home, by the Fireplace (Maedhros & Elrond) 1.6k, General Audiences, bonding, adoptive father-son relationship

“Elrond will come and find you soon enough,” Maglor said. He was back to working on his instrument. “Be kind, when he does—he only means the best.”

or Winter is harsh on Maedhros, and Elrond tries to help.

BEAUTY AND THE BEAST

The Way He Looks** (Gaston/LeFou) 2.4k, General Audiences, early days, pre-war, first kiss • aesthetic, fanart

Tentatively, LeFou risked looking up at him again. Gaston was looking out the window now, certainly dreaming of his next, successful hunt in the vast plains of the land. These were perhaps LeFou’s favourite moments; when they stopped to make camp in the forest or under the stars—and when they found peace here, at home, and he could watch Gaston bathe in the sunlight.

Blood on his Hands (Gaston/LeFou) 3.8k, Teen and Up Audiences, pre-movie, wartime, protective Gaston

"Was the man even still alive?

Gaston didn't know, and didn't care.

Hell, if anything Gaston hoped he was; he could suffer some more and die later."

or Wartime Gafou drabbles

He Loves Me (Gaston/LeFou) 3.5k, General Audiences, pre-war, first kiss, pre-movie relationship

LeFou glanced at Gaston, and watched his chest rise and fall to the steady rhythm of his breath. He thought back to the day when they’d been lying on top of the hill, and he’d asked Gaston, “Why are we friends?”

The answer had been simple, and easy back then; today, though, LeFou thought that it might have meant something different, for they were now older, and perhaps, a lot more wiser, too.

Reflection** (Gaston/LeFou) 7.7k, General Audiences, post-movie, Gaston lives, healing, scars • aesthetic

While Gaston heals from the fall that almost claimed his life, LeFou, hurt by Gaston's betrayal, struggles to come to terms with the aftermath of the battle.

OTHER

Not the End (Emmett Fields/John Cantrell, The Raven) 823 words, General Audiences, post-movie, fix-it

She stops by the door, fingers around the doorknob when she hears it. As the nurse had said, there's someone in the room already, and Emily can hear his voice, hushed and almost trembling. She's heard that voice before, but not like this—she's heard it strong, and confident, and commanding.

Today, it’s none of those things.

Old Friends and Broken Promises** (John Moore & Laszlo Kreizler, The Alienist) 2.1k, General Audiences, post-books, character study, angst

Months have passed since the Beecham and Hatch cases—but their shadows still linger over John's life.

Oh, if the Dead Could Weep (Héctor Rivera, Coco) 1.8k, General Audiences, pre-movie, angst

Héctor thought that being dead was already bad enough—until the first time he tried crossing the Marigold Bridge.

Sooo that’s it! There are other stories on my account that I didn’t include, either because they’re not any good or because something bothers me about them, but if you wanna give them a read, no one can stop you! but please don’t

Kudos are much appreciated, and comments mean the world to me. Even a few words would make my day!! It's never too late and even a tiny one would be wonderful. ;w;

I’ll also take this opportunity to thank @piyo-13 and @johnsmoore, who beta’ed most of those stories. Thank you so so much my friends, my fics and I would be nothing without you <3

#barduil #gafou #the hobbit #beauty and the beast #the silmarillion #fics #mine #writing #bard the bowman #thranduil #maedhros #elrond #gaston #lefou #I hope I didn't forget anything?

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theartofbeinganeldar · 4 years

Text

The Art of Being an Eldar: Legolas x Reader Chapter 3

Summary: You, a fantasy-loving LARPing human from Earth, got dropped into Middle-Earth with no recollection of the place except for bits and pieces. Lord Fabulous Elvenking has given you three days to find the portal from which you came, with the aide of his son Legolas, who you've taken to calling "Blue-Eyes." If you don't find the portal, you're to be taken back to the palace for a swift execution...

Chapter No.: Chapter 2

Key:

[Y/N]=Your Name [F/N]= Friend's Name [B/N]= Bro's Name [S/N]= Sis's Name [M/N]= Mom's Name [e/c]= eye color [h/c]= hair color [s/c]= skin color

Notes: I actually researched the languages using a website called elfdict,but I don’t know if the orcish is correct...

Warnings: Fluff, angst, graphic depictions of gore and violence (Cuz of orc battles y'know?), more angst, slow burn, some light depression in the first few chapters, some amnesia about Middle-Earth because the Valar say you're not supposed to have foresight, hard-core language, feels, lots and lots of feels, mentions of NSFW content, maybe some eventual NSFW content, LGTBQ+ characters, Thranduil being a jackass at first because he's fabulous, Legolas being a hot edgy prince that nobody can handle, Kili being an innocent bean, Hobbits being smol innocent beans, except for Bilbo 'cause he's been through some tough shit, Bard being dad of the year, Thorin being one dumbass boi, awesome dragons, awesome Nazgul, awesome scenery, awesome stuff in general, Elrond isn't listened to by anybody, confused Aragorn is confused, Denethor's a bitch as always, brace yourself for creepy as fuck Cream of Wormtongue Grima Wormtongue, Boromir lives, Gandalf. (yes these are all legit warnings don't judge me.)

Pairings/Ships: Legolas x Reader, Legolas x you, Aragorn x Arwen, Faramir x Eowyn, Thranduil x Elvenqueen, Galadriel x Celery Celeborn, Boromir x OC, Thorin x OC, Fili x OC, etc. general LoTR standard shippings plus some of my own cuz I can't stand my boys being lonely

Word Count: I try to keep my chapters short, under 2000 words.

Rating: Teen (14+) for now

Starting at dawn every day, you, Legolas, and the troop of Elves searched repeatedly for the portal. You threw yourself off of the tree countless times. You laid in the spot for hours. At one point, the Elves had even used some kind of sheet made of leaves and their supernatural strength to fling you up like a trampoline to see if the portal was aboveground.

Nothing happened.

As the days wore on, you grew more and more bitter. Every move felt exhausting, and like there was no use: you couldn't get back to your family.

You couldn't live here. There seemed to be no point of your existence anymore.

Somewhere around sunset of the second day, Blue-Eyes noticed your sudden lack of enthusiasm. "May I ask what troubles you?"

You scoffed. "Why do you care? I'll be dead in about forty-eight hours anyway. What I feel doesn't matter."

"I beg to differ," Legolas took a seat beside you; you scooted a couple of inches away. "You are in our world now, so you will go to our gods for judgement when you die."

You frowned. You'd always been kinda an atheist. "The Valar?"

Legolas nodded. "Yes. The Valar. Your feelings before death will determine whether or not you'll be given a good place among them."

You rolled your eyes. "You're kidding, right? They'll judge me for being pissed off and upset 'cause I can't get back to my own world to see my family, then killed just for breathing on Lord Fabulous's precious trees? They can go fuck themselves."

His face was priceless. If you hadn't been so pissed, you might've laughed. "...Lord... Fabulous? And, while I have my doubts about your recent hand gesturing, I do know that what you just said is most likely vulgar. Have respect for the Valar."

You snorted. "First of all, fabulous means somebody who loves dressing in the best and most well-liked outfits of the time, while also being very uppity and acting like they're God's gift to humanity. Second of all, yeah, that is vulgar, and no I will not take it back. Third, how fucking dare you, sir, to tell me to respect some candy-ass bitches up in the sky who'll judge me for having feelings."

Legolas shook his head. "Alright, ass is a word we do have here, as is candy. I can get the gist of that meaning. I cannot force you to have respect for them, especially when they brought you here."

You glared at him. "Yeah, whatever. Just leave me alone."

Blue-Eyes sighed. "As you wish."

You turned away, scrunching up into yourself against the night chill.

On the edge of night...

All shall fade...

With a huff, you curled up where you were and tried to fall asleep.

A beautiful copper dragon sat before you on a mound of gold. "Do you think flattery will keep you alive?"

"N-no..." Said the silhouette of a very small person.

"No indeed," Confirmed the dragon. He began to prowl around. "You seem familiar with my name, but I don't remember smelling your kind before. Who are you, and where do you come from, if I may ask?"

The dream flipped.

You stood between two Elves in silver robes, one of which was Blue-Eyes, looking sullen. "Tell me," Said the other Elf, "Where is Gandalf? For I much desire to speak with him."

Legolas's crystal blue eyes glistened with tears, but he held them back. He'd never seemed like one to cry. "He was taken by both shadow and flame. A balrog of Morgoth."

The dream--no, vision-- changed again.

Before you was an old man in blue-gray robes with a long gray beard and pointed hat, smiling kindly up at what looked like a child. You couldn't turn your head to see. "A wizard is never late, Frodo Baggins, nor is he ever early. He arrives precisely when he means to."

The visions flashed in your mind quickly now, too fast for you to discern much from them.

"Sauron's forces are massing in the east."

"This is no mere ranger! He is Aragorn, son of Arathorn, heir to the throne of Gondor. You owe him your allegiance."

"Gondor has no king. Gondor needs no king."

"I ain't droppin' no eaves, Mister Frodo!"

"I choose a mortal life."

"The beacons are lit! Gondor calls for aid!"

"He is Thorin, son of Thrain, son of Thror, the true King under the Mountain."

"You have the gift of foresight. What did you see?"

"Arwen..."

"What did you see?"

"I saw death. Your death."

"But there is also life. You saw my son."

"You have my sword."

"And my bow."

"And my axe!"

"If this is what the council decides, then Gondor will see it is done."

"Things that were... Things that are... And things that have not yet come to pass."

"Did he offer you a bargain?"

"Yes. I refused."

"A bargain was our only hope..."

"Have you forgotten what happened to Dale?"

"I am fire... I am...Death."

~ominous as fuck time skip~

You woke with a start, the dragon's words still echoing in your head. You knew over half of those names, deep in your mind... Sauron, Morgoth, balrog, Thorin, Frodo, Aragorn, Gandalf... You knew the voices, too. But you couldn't place any of them.

The Elves were already awake (With the sun as usual.), readying their breakfast of weeds.

You frowned. Why should you be concerned with why this place sounds familiar if you weren't going to be here much longer? You got up, and prepared to search for the portal-- you didn't want any breakfast, especially when it was nothing but dandelion fluff and sparkles.

"You are not breaking your fast?" Blue-Eyes asked you, and at first you thought he was using Elvish slang.

"You mean I'm not eating breakfast?"

"If that is how you say it in your world, yes."

You shrugged. "I'll be dead later anyway. What's the point?"

Legolas sighed. "To keep up your strength to find your way back. What if you arrive back on your world in the middle of the wilderness, like you did here? You will have no supplies, and I doubt you know much about foraging."

You huffed. "You know what? Screw off. I don't want anything to eat, and you can fucking deal with that."

He looked up in exasperation, probably praying to his Valar for you to stop being such a nuisance. "You use that word an awful lot."

"What word?"

"Fuck."

Then you almost busted out laughing, because a fancy pretty sparkly Elf, even if he was deadly, saying a modern cuss word was too funny.

He blinked. "What? Why are you looking at me like that?"

You snorted, crossing your arms. "Do you even know what the definition of that word is?"

"No." You gestured for him to come closer, then whispered the meaning into his ear. He sprang back wildly with wide eyes and a profoundly disgusted expression. "Dear Valar, I will never repeat a word you say again unless I am sure of what it means!" His eyes widened even further. "Wait... You just told the gods to perform impossible sexual acts on themselves! And the day before you told me to..." He stopped short, appalled.

"Yuh-huh. Just now gettin' that, goldie? For shame upon me." A thought struck you. "Wait, do Elves even have sex like humans? Do you even know what I'm talking about?"

He blushed a little. "Find the portal. Quickly." He awkwardly left, sparing you a quick glance like "wtf."

You grinned maliciously, then went back to your search.

By sundown, nothing was found. You stared down at the patch where you'd originally landed, wishing for all the world that you'd been born normal, with maybe a slight love for fantasy. Why? Why had you wished, for all of your life, that you'd been transported elsewhere? Now you were, but... You didn't have your family. Without them, you couldn't function right. You just couldn't imagine never seeing them again.

The Elves were already leaving, except for Blue-Eyes. He stood by your side for a minute, as if you were both staring at a grave. You might as well have been. "Bury me here, will you? Maybe my family will find my body. And kill me as non-messily as possible, please? Like, an arrow to the heart'll do."

Blue-Eyes stiffly patted your back. You went ramrod straight-- you'd always hated touch contact. "I will pray for you." He followed his comrades, who were already a good ways back to the river, spread out through the forest. You half considered running in the opposite direction, but you'd be dead before you even so much as got to the ridge where the first of the big dogs had attacked you.

You sighed, and forced yourself to move forward; you gasped as your ankle slipped into a rut, and you yanked it out, arms spread wide for balance. You gave the ground the dirtiest look you could muster, which quickly faded to stunned silence. You leaned down, and scraped more of the dried leaves away...

Your breath caught in your throat. "Blue-Eyes!"

Legolas was at your side in a moment. "Did you find it?"

"I don't know!" You stood and gestured to what you'd found. An inscription, in a language you couldn't read. "It was buried under the leaves."

"Can you read it?"

"Obviously not, dumbass. Is it Elvish?"

Blue-Eyes knelt, tilting his head slightly to read it. His hand grazed the writing. "It is a form of old Elvish, used in the time of Gondolin. This has been here for a very, very long time." He gave you a look. "Forgive me, I'd thought you'd written it at first." You thought about smacking him upside the head, but with everybody suddenly around you again and ready to attack, you thought better of it. Legolas turned back to the writing.

After an almost unspeakably long amount of time, you got impatient. "What's it say, dammit?!"

Legolas shook his head slowly. "I am sorry. Truly, I am. If we had seen this earlier..."

"What does it say, Legolas?!"

He stood, and looked you in the eyes, sympathetic. "'The way is shut. There is no going back. The way is shut, until next fiery moonlight.'"

Your face lit up. "R-really?! Then that means all we have to do is wait for a full moon, right?! That's usually what it is! Full moon at midnight for stuff like this, in all the books! Do you think Lord Fabulous could extend my sentence--"

"[Y/N]," It was the first time he'd used your name, and it made you freeze. "The night you arrived, the moon was full. But it was also a Firemoon. It means you cannot return to your world until the next Firemoon."

Your hopes slowly fell, but you were determined not to succumb to the panic that was quickly rising. "H-how much longer till the next one?"

Legolas put a hand on your shoulder, trying to get you to understand.

"Firemoons only happen once every thousand years, [Y/N]." The words were like being hit by a semi going full speed on the highway-- sudden, fatal, and unbelievable. "You cannot go home."

Everything suddenly seemed far away, like you were seeing this from someone else's perspective. Everything went quiet, at least to you. The world seemed to spin. You dropped to your knees, and you were vaguely aware of Blue-Eyes saying, "I am sorry..."

You didn't know what to do. I can't go home... I can't go home...

I can't go home.

Your breaths came in panicked, short bursts. Even if it killed you, you took off running. Maybe if you ran for long enough, you'd wake up from this nightmare. Then you could pretend you were in some fantasy world with your family this time. You expected to be shot in the back, but you heard Blue-Eyes shout an order in Elvish, and instead, about three or four individual Elves followed you. You don't know how long you ran; tears streamed from your cheeks. Your lungs burned. Your legs felt like Jello. You collapsed at one point, and screamed, though you couldn't hear it. You screamed until your throat was raw. You were vaguely aware of a few Elves nearby, but you ignored them.

All shall...

In all the chaos, it wasn't long before you blacked out.

...Fade...

~emo time skip~

When you woke up, it was midmorning. Birds chirped endlessly on, the happiest goddamned creatures in the world. A couple of Elves talked quietly amongst themselves in hushed voices and in Elvish. You were laying on your back, and somebody had covered you up in a blanket. The smell of something good-- not that anything was, at this point--filled the air. It smelled like cinnamon and walnuts, like Christmas.

With a sigh, you cracked your swollen eyes open. Legolas sat cross-legged beside you, checking his bowstring and polishing the wood. He smiled half-heartedly at you. "You are awake."

Obviously. You didn't say anything. You didn't want to talk. Or think. Legolas sighed, placing his bow across his lap. "We must head for the palace. My father will wonder what is keeping us."

Yeah, gotta kill me as quick as possible... Death is better than this, anyway.

Legolas gave the order, and the Elves started to pack up. You laid monotone and still for the length of it, until Blue-Eyes gave you the signal to get up. Then you walked slowly behind them, every step a chore. You'd barely reached the river, and you were exhausted. And still, that damned song was going through your head...

Home is behind...

The world ahead...

All shall fade...

You knew that your dream last night had been connected to this place, whatever it was. Did that mean this song was, too? You were half tempted to ask Blue-Eyes, but you decided you weren't worthy of talking to any of these fantastical fantasy beings, even if they were going to kill you in t-minus some hours.

The company suddenly halted. Blue-Eyes had a hand raised, and all the Elves's weapons had materialized in their hands. Blue-Eyes was quiet, listening...

An eerie howl cut through the trees, chilling you to your bones. Was that one of those big dogs that carried orcs? A horn followed the howl, and all the Elves strung their bows and readied their weapons. "Gundabad yrch!" Legolas proclaimed-- you were going to assume that yrch meant orcs. He went on to give a bunch of other orders, and the Elves took off running; if it were up to you, you'd've stopped running and let the dogs have you for dinner.

But apparently Legolas seen that, and grabbed your upper arm to drag you along beside him. Damn him... The rest of the Elves were suddenly ignoring Blue-Eyes's orders. Half of them went off into the trees in the direction of the horn and howl, and the other half formed a protective circle around him-- and you, coincidentally.

Blue-Eyes barked an order at them which they ignored, but all of you stopped short when you seen what awaited you on the far bank; the way back to the palace.

Six massive wargs, more wolflike than the ones from before, with orcs a hell of a lot uglier than the ones from before sitting atop their backs, with black bows and jagged, haphazard swords. In the direction the other Elves had gone, there was more howling. Shit. If you cared about your survival right now, you'd've been terrified. But you almost enjoyed the thought of death, if it hadn't been so gruesome.

Blue-Eyes scanned the bank. There were more orcs nearby, on foot, and several more wargs. One of the Elves moved faster than you could see, snatching a sleek gold horn on his hip and blowing hard before Legolas could stop him.

The Elf-- it was the one that'd found your hair dye repulsive the other day-- hardly got a note out before an arrow lodged itself in his throat. The note trailed off into a gurgle as blood sprayed from the wound. Droplets splattered onto you, and you recoiled; you'd never seen death. You'd been to a funeral once or twice, but never this. He fell backward, and the river swiftly carried his body away.

Legolas shouted an order, and the Elves readied themselves for battle. But there wouldn't be one just yet, despite the death of that Elf. The lead orc-- a nasty, pale gray orc with swollen eyes and a protruding mouth, tall and thick, his forehead covered in scars-- stepped off of his warg, which was bigger than the rest.

He came about halfway before stopping. "A truce?" One of the Elves asked-- Common was probably hard to speak for orcs, so they resorted to it to keep from being understood. It made sense.

Legolas didn't take his eyes off of the orc, but shook his head. "That is Bolg, spawn of Azog the Defiler. He would not make any truce with us, nor would any other orc. They are beyond reason, and think only of blood and death." Bolg... Azog... Now you really knew these names... But why?

"Albai," The orc snarled; his voice was deep. "Dorzog ajog lum trov!"

"Emme uva!" Legolas cried. "Sin nor yara ana Aran Thranduil!"

Thranduil... You knew that name. But the fact that they were conversing in orcish and Elvish was astounding. One must've came from the other, and you were just going to assume that it was the orcish that came from Elvish.

Bolg's already disgusting face scrunched up into a frown. "Vol lat diig!" The orc raised an arm; you recognized the movement as a signal to fire. The Elves scrambled around wildly yet gracefully to avoid the arrows, but you barely moved; an arrow got you right in the bare part of your upper arm, and another grazed your ear. Still, you didn't move, praying for one to hit you in the head or heart or something. You hardly felt the pain.

As the battle took place around you, you zoned out. You caught glimpses of a bloodied Elven corpse, or a dismembered orc, and of course, blood was everywhere. The river ran red. You just wished it would end...

A grunt nearby brought you out of your trance.

It was Blue-Eyes, being pinned down by a warg's paw on his chest, another on his left arm. He flipped the dagger in his good hand and stabbed it violently into the warg's shoulder. The beast howled in agony, but only pushed down harder; Legolas's eyes widened as he realized the knife was stuck. The warg snarled, and opened its jaws, savoring the taste of fear before it would bite down...

None of this is his fault. He shouldn't have to die.

The warg had dismissed you as unthreatening. One of the Elves lay dead on the rocks nearby, a longblade in her hand as she stared with unseeing eyes to the sky, mouth agape. You snatched the weapon from her already-stiffening grasp. It was heavy. But it was sharp as hell.

In two leaps, you'd reached the warg, which looked to you in confusion, then recognition, with a growl. You brought the sword down, slicing deep into the creature's face. It wailed in an echo of a voice, and released Legolas, pawing at the wound; Legolas whipped his bow out like an OP follower and shot that dog point blank.

You let go of the hilt, stunned. Blue-Eyes inclined his head. "You have my deepest thanks, [Y/N.]. You saved my life."

You just nodded in shock.

Legolas raced back into the battle, leaving you to your own. Another horn blew, this one like the one the Elf that'd been shot first had blown. A barrage of arrows flew from the trees, felling every orc and warg in seconds. Some grazed you, but none touched any of the surviving Elves.

A she-Elf in a dark green tunic, carrying a longbow, loped out of the woods with her comrades. She was beautiful, with red hair so long it went past her waist. "Legolas!" She cried, and he responded in Elvish; again, you couldn't understand what they were saying, and it was really starting to piss you off.

"[Y/N]," Blue-Eyes called to you, and you belatedly looked up. He and the ginger were approaching you sollemnly. "This is Tauriel, Captain of the Guard. She will take you back to the palace and explain what happened here." Ah... Death at last.

"Tauriel," Legolas turned to her; something shone in his eyes. You recognized his spark, but not hers, but the thought quickly left your head when you registered what he was saying. "Tell my father that they saved my life."

"What?" Tauriel looked impressed, and bowed her head to you. "You have my thanks, mellon."

"Perhaps he will spare them from execution in repayment," Legolas pointed out, and Tauriel made an 'o' face.

She bowed respectfully. "I will make sure of it, my prince."

Wut.

Oh, right. Blue-Eye's dad was Lord Fabulous, king of these Elves. Of course that'd make him a prince. Prince Legolas Gr... Of the Wood... Rea... The thought was like an echo. You couldn't catch it.

Legolas nodded to you, and Tauriel lead you away from the carnage of the river battlefield.

~time skip~

"Saving my son does not grant you my utmost favor," Lord Fabulous glared down at you like you were a nasty piece of gum he'd stepped on in flip-flops. "But it does warrant some form of reward. I am sure you wish for your execution to be cancelled?"

On autopilot, you nodded. You didn't want to die, but you didn't want to live. You just wished you'd never have existed in the first place, that way none of this would've happened.

Lord Fabulous Elvenking snorted, like he was hoping you'd just ask for cake before you were beheaded. "Of course. Take them to their cell."

Tauriel wasn't as rough as Legolas, or even any of the guards had been, but she still held you firmly. "Would you like a change of clothes? I could also arrange for a washbasin to be brought to you."

You just nodded. Couldn't you just dissipate? But, if it'd taken nineteen years for this wish to come true, then it'd take another nineteen years for you to disappear. You were an Elf now, so that should pass in one painful blink of an eye...

"I am sorry that you could not find the portal," Tauriel told you as she locked the door to your cell. "I will have the guards bring you something to eat at once."

You laid down on your cot, curled up, and closed your eyes. You heard the guard come and deliver the food, then leave quietly, but you still didn't move. You didn't move when Tauriel brought you clothes and a bucket of water and rags, you didn't move when Blue-Eyes came to thank you again, you didn't move when a rat came and took your cheese. You just laid there, staring and feeling dead on the inside.

You refused to eat or drink for the next few days. You slept, mostly. When you were awake, you were crying silently. You dreamed of your family. You grieved. Your muscles cramped from sleeping in one position for days. Your stomach felt like it was going to eat you alive. Your mouth was as dry as sandpaper. A hollow ache had settled in the core of your torso, between your heart and lungs; a pulsing orb of sadness, regret, and the wish to disappear. A couple of times, you passed out from hunger while laying down. But you were an Elf, so it'd be hard for you to starve.

You kept count of the days by the cycle of guards exchanging meals. Every tray held different things for different mealtimes: fruits and bread for breakfast, cheese and bread for lunch, and a thick vegetable soup for dinner. About nine days went by before anyone came to check on you, and by that point, you were hysterical on the inside. On the outside, you were catatonic.

And you reeked, because you hadn't had a shower in like, awhile.

After two battles.

So you weren't at your best.

"My guards tell me you refuse to sustain yourself." It was Blue-Eyes. "Do you realize how much of an offense that is to his majesty? He allows you to live, and yet you seek death out deliberately."

You said nothing. Hell, your eyes didn't even move. With a sigh, Blue-Eyes moved to your bedside. "Ah, I see you have also refused to bathe..." You didn't crack a smile. Even on the inside, you hardly felt a twinge of amusement. You felt... Empty.

Legolas surprised you by placing a hand on your cheek. "You miss them, don't you?"

Tears welled in your eyes. Dammit stop making me have feels. Ah, but feels you had, my friend, and you started bawling into your pillow. Legolas shushed you, and petted your head and told you it would be alright. You don't know how long you cried, but at one point, Legolas and Tauriel switched places, even though she clearly didn't want to and sucked at emotional talking.

When it was Legolas's turn again, you'd finally gotten to the nearly-finished state of hyperactive wheezing. "How long were you holding that in, I wonder?" You still didn't answer. He gave you a sympathetic smile. "You saved my life. Let me help you save yours. Get up. You will eat, even if I must force it down your throat, and once you're full, you'll bathe. After, I will take you for a tour of Mirkwood. You'll be living here, now... I suppose it's only right you learn how to navigate your homeland."

Finally, it clicked.

"Wh...What did you say...?" Your voice was hoarse from underuse and crying, but it still worked.

Legolas gave you a concerned look, like that much crying might've damaged your hearing. "I said I will take you for a tour of Mirkwood--"

You sat up; too fast, but you sat up. Your sugar dropped. But you had to know. "Mirkwood... Where is that?"

Legolas frowned. "East of the Misty Mountains, west of Erebor, home to the dwarves and the King Under the Mountain. North of Ithilien, Gondor, and northeast to Lothlorien, Ithilien, and Rohan."

Oh fuck.

"Wh-what is this place called? In general? Collectively? Like, the whole continent?"

Legolas seemed to finally realize that you were crazy. "Middle-Earth."

Oh hell.

"Holy shit..."

"What is it?"

You couldn't remember it clearly. Hell, you could hardly remember it at all. But what you did remember finally made sense. Tolkien's fantasy masterpiece that no one can surpass... The Hobbit... Lord of The Rings... The Fellowship... Smaug, Thorin, Bilbo... Aragorn, Arwen... Thranduil, Legolas, Tauriel... Oh gods, Legolas! "I-I... The books... Oh, gods..."

"Mellon...?"

You promptly fell face-first off the bed before any half-assed explanation could be given to poor Golden Boy.

"[Y/N]?!"

...

Home is behind...

The world ahead...

And there are many paths to tread...

Through shadow, to the edge of night...

Until the stars are all alight...

Mist and shadow...

Cloud and shade...

All shall fade...

All shall...

...Fade...

Tag List: @tesserphantom @thedragonghostofmordor

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