#truly the pippin of the elves

[emyn-arnens]

Gosh I just love book Legolas. He's immortal. He's a teenager. Elrond picks him instead of Glorfindel because he's average and won't draw attention to the Fellowship. He's the comic relief guy and resident Little Shit, but he can also shoot a Nazgul out of the sky in the pitch black like a one-man elf anti-aircraft defense system. He wants everyone to know that he's, like, really old. He forgets the task at hand because he wants to look at trees. His greatest qualities are that he can become friends with anyone and his loyalty is unending. He shows up to Valinor a century late with Starbucks in hand and his dwarf bestie at his side. Iconic.

#thinking again of that part in home where gandalf threatens to set him on fire because he's so annoyed with him #truly the pippin of the elves #lotr #legolas #.txt

[velvet4510]

The similarity and contrast between Frodo & Sam’s shared fate and Merry & Pippin’s shared fate is just so poignant.

All four of them ultimately abandon the Shire forever. None of them are eventually laid to rest among their fellow hobbits.

But there is also a key difference.

Merry & Pippin die in Gondor. They leave behind a legacy of two legends, but modern and tangible legends at that. Their tomb stands alongside the great king’s, for your average person to visit anytime. Their legacy stands alongside the heroes of Men, of the people whose dominion unfolds across the grounded, real world of Middle-earth. Their memory becomes akin to history.

On the other hand, Frodo & Sam leave Middle-earth to die in a faraway land that no other Hobbit, Man, or ordinary Dwarf can enter. (Gimli ain’t ordinary, we all know that.) Your average person in Middle-earth will never be able to see where they went. They have no graves in Middle-earth to be visited. They slip beyond the reach of the ordinary world, into an ancient land of magic and mystique. They also leave behind a legacy of two legends, but they are legends who weren’t truly “of this world.” They will be remembered in the same vein as the enigmatic Elves and Wizards, who saved the world and then passed beyond its confines to a place no average person will ever understand. Their memory becomes akin to myth.

#lotr #jrr tolkien #lotr books #frodo baggins #samwise gamgee #meriadoc brandybuck #peregrin took #sam gamgee #pippin took #merry brandybuck #lord of the rings

[annoyinglandmagazine]

Then They All Fell To Their Knees As He Raised His Fist Before He Spoke Chapter 1

Summary: Elrond decides fuck it and joins the fellowship of the ring. Sauron should be getting very worried right about now. Title from Hells Comin’ With Me because that’s kind of the vibe here.

He appraised those before him, many valiant warriors certainly, some with enough good in their hearts to perhaps fight the corruption. Maybe they would stand a chance, just maybe, of overcoming this darkness. They would have to he supposed, after all the age of the elves was coming to an end, his kind were dwindling after so many ages of loss, few remained on these shores and fewer still of the famed heroes renowned in song.

Even they were chiefly renowned in songs recounting their heroic deaths, their last stands, their attempt to fight against total despair just that, attempts; brave ones of course but…. The Elven heroes of song almost always failed, with particular emphasis on those coming from the house all three of his fathers belonged to who in their case were quite literally doomed, ‘to evil end shall all things turn that they begin well,’ summed it up quite succinctly he thought.

Now, Earendil had circumvented that Doom for himself but only by forsaking all else, an untold sacrifice of all he held dear and through incredibly fortunate timing that was unlikely to be replicated and they certainly couldn’t wait for. If there was hope to be found was it really to be found in those great heroes? Perhaps their time had truly passed, now their only role was to provide shelter and counsel to those who needed it and protect their own until the time came to sail.

Had they not already given enough to this Middle Earth? Now they were truly spent and the other kindred must finally learn to do this completely for themselves, they’d needed him less and less as the years wore on regardless, fewer travellers coming through as his house’s existence was occasionally forgotten to mortal memory . In a few more millennia it would be as if they’d never been there.

He was willing to see it done, the Fellowship of the Ring with the hobbit as Ring Bearer, least likely of all the kindred to be corrupted if Bilbo Baggins was any example to go by. He was willing to see it done until the youngest hobbit appeared from where he’d been observing proceedings and demanded to be included in the quest. Elrond knew he would not be able to turn him away, just as he and Elros could not have been made back down from bearing arms at what must be a comparable age.

How many times must this happen? How many would have to sacrifice their innocence for their safety, make such impossible decisions for those they loved? Could he truly let this continue, let more people continue to suffer as he and his brother did in a world torn apart by war? He could not in good conscience stop Pippin from fighting to save Middle Earth from subjugation or refuse him his loyalty to his friend but perhaps he could protect him as he hadn’t been protected.

If Earendil had broken the Doom through sacrifice Elrond would do it through sheer righteous fury. One thing the Noldor could not be criticised for was their lack of will to keep trying when all the odds and common sense were stacked against them. Besides, Luthien and Beren had won against Morgoth. Perhaps he could take some of those ‘whatever the opposite of cursed is’ genetics and combine it with the stubbornness and fury to end this once and for all.

He was definitely not doing the ‘and my weapon’ bit though. This was a time sensitive matter and it would take many more years than they had for him to list all the items he had on his person that would be considered weapons in his hands.

*****

They waited for Elrond to finalise it, surely he must say something, after all this was his council so it only followed that he would announce its end. He simply furrowed his brow, Frodo wondered if perhaps he had decided they may not have hope after all; if Elrond believed it was futile he wasn’t sure what they would do next. There was nowhere else to go, no one more likely to have all the answers.

After a tense moment’s pause Elrond rose to his feet, all eyes in the room waiting for him to voice his approval of the quest. He announced with suitable solemnity ‘You will be the Fellowship of the Ring.’

Gandalf nodded to Elrond in a private moment of conference, accepting the path that had been chosen. Then, for the first time in Frodo’s memory, Gandalf seemed genuinely taken aback when his old friend continued to speak, eyes widening in complete shock.

Elrond smiled at Frodo, with just as much kindness as he had before but an edge of something, of light and passion glinting in his silver eyes that Frodo hadn’t seen anywhere before. ‘I will accompany you on this quest also and give what assistance you may require to see it to its end.’

This was met with a moment of confused silence, no one quite knowing if they had understood correctly; it was one thing for a reckless young archer prince from Mirkwood to volunteer his services but elven lords- elven lords known for their scholarly and healing prowess at that- did not go on quests. They simply didn’t, they hadn’t for more generations than hobbits as a species had existed for, they hadn’t since the One Ring was new to the world.

Glorfindel was the first to recover his voice, ‘My- my lord are you certain?’

The advisor at his side, Erestor if Frodo remembered correctly, looked at him incredulously, distracted from the look of pure exhaustion he was sending towards Elrond, ‘Of course he’s certain. We hoped this day would never come but just look at him, he’s gone full Finwean. There is no way you’ll be able to get him to back down now.’

The look of pure terror that took hold of Glorfindel at these words, when he had shown not a trace of concern at those black riders, was staggering to behold as he swung around in his chair and stared at Elrond in horror, ‘Elrond- I beg you to think rationally. Please don’t do this.’

Elrond spoke gently, ‘Glorfindel, you needn’t worry, I can manage-’

Glorfindel exclaimed in despair ‘I’m not worried about you! You don’t understand, your family will kill me if you pull a Fingolfin. We’ve gotten so far, you can’t do this to me now.’

‘Glorfindel no one is going to hold you responsible. I’m several millennia old, they know I make my own decisions-’

‘Do you think that will be enough to hold off the Lady Idril if I tell her her only grandchild rode off to face Sauron the year he was meant to sail! That’s not even to start on if the Feanorians in Aman have recognised your adoption as making you a genuine heir to their house, they’ll tear people limb from limb! Starting with me!’

Erestor seemed much more calm about the whole thing, inquiring in a voice dripping with sarcasm, ‘Will you require a large hound of some kind? Since we seem to be resorting to plan L of our Last Alliance contingencies?’

Elrond did not pay him much heed and began to move on to other matters, ‘Arwen will take care of Rivendell, she’s more than capable.’ Here Gandalf shot Elrond a questioning look and Elrond nodded in response which seemed to both satisfy and surprise him going from a brief rise of the eyebrows.

‘And I have full faith my captain and counsellors will assist her should she need it. My sons will muster the Dunedain, they are not as many as they once were but I’m sure Aragorn can attest they may be of no small importance in the fight to come.’

‘Is there anything else?’

*******

By the end of the week Elrond had set as much in order as he could, organising a few packs, mostly comprised of whatever healing herbs he may struggle to forage for and anything he thought his companions likely to neglect, he had enough faith to know Aragorn would pack well but it was best to be cautious for the rest of them.

The hobbits were not used to such journeys and while they could be relied on to think of things that would be nowhere on anyone else’s list of priorities such as, from what some of his rather mystified kitchen staff had informed him, pots and pans, they may pass over more urgent matters such as tertiary blades in case they lost their first two. They would have packed at least two wouldn’t they? He’d heard the Shire was a peaceful place but surely not so peaceful they wouldn’t carry little knives in their boots just in case? Maybe it would be best he pack them five each as a precaution.

The old motions brought more memories back than he usually cared to respond to all at once, Maedhros drilling into him what he would need to have on him at all times, yes even while still in Amon Ereb you never knew when orcs could attack, grabbing the essentials from a camp that needed to be abandoned without a trace faster than anticipated.

He knew he was putting this off, it was a greater struggle than he should like to admit to relinquish the power Tyelpe’s last creation gave him; despite never seeking it out, to feel it leaving him, especially on the brink something that would require any reserves of strength he could call on, was no small thing.

The longer he left it the higher the likelihood he would manage to convince himself it was unnecessary when he knew how disastrous the consequences would be if one of the three left Rivendell, where it was safe from Sauron’s designs and protected this place that was so dear to him and would not survive without it.

He found Arwen by the shores of the Bruinen, the spray dancing about her hands as if it had already recognised her as its current mistress; perhaps it had. There was a melancholy air about her, an apprehensiveness; the fate of this quest certainly held more at stake for her than many others as now it would include both her love and her father in the balance.

He carefully slipped Vilya from his finger and gazed upon it for one last time, cradling in his palm the flawless work of one of the greatest smiths who had ever lived, his beloved, far too trusting, cousin, betrayed for his good nature by one he had let into his halls.

This was for him, for his Tyelpe and for his king who had pressed the ring into his hand, entrusting it to his keeping, in the bright dawn of the day he had ridden off never to return, a parting gift to the person he had loved most in the world, given with a chaste kiss to his hands.

This was for Celebrian, his wife who had endured horrific torment and suffering at their hands, who had been forced to leave by the vindictiveness of all that Sauron had created. This was for all of them, what they had begun must finally be called to completion, they must finally be able to see that it had not been for nothing, he would not sail and join those he loved until they could rest in the knowledge that Middle Earth was safe, that their tormentors were gone.

He could not hope to succeed if he allowed his desire for the power he could call on from this ring if situations left his control to cloud his judgement of what would truly be best for their goal. He must be able to trust that he was strong enough himself, if he was going to need to fall back on external power to save them once things got challenging there was no point in this entire endeavour.

So he smothered any lingering hesitancy and sat by his daughter’s side, holding the ring out before her. ‘I think it is time you take this, my daughter. It will give you the power to shelter this valley from those who would do it harm in my absence.’

She met his eyes and took it, watching for any hint of reluctance to relinquish it, cautious as he had taught her of the snare objects such as this held on those who possessed or coveted them. He watched her place it into her finger with a combination of many emotions but mostly an overwhelming sense of pride.

She closed her eyes and he could feel her mind pushing out cautiously around her, prodding her and there and embedding herself into the valley’s fabric, the force of the river setting in her consciousness with the throb of her heart, the earth beneath her bursting into bloom quite suddenly with the excess of power flowing through her veins and spilling out in the form of a few new rose bushes on the river bank.

The valley may have been reluctant to accept another guardian after so long, even one who was in many ways familiar to it, so to intertwine with it fully Arwen only needed a little push. Elrond’s heart was somewhat lighter after discovering that the process did not push him out of alignment but only have her settle in beside him, even without Vilya he could feel the hum of the valley around him as he had before.

He was also much relieved that he hadn’t been relying on the ring as much as he’d feared, hadn’t become complacent enough to forget years of training and he felt his- well Galadriel didn’t like to call her own abilities magic but he was less certain about that matter in his case, as, he believed, was she though she hid it well- was as honed as ever, restless and waiting for a chance to be set free on it’s unfortunate enemy.

When Arwen opened her eyes at last her eyes were wide and shining, reeling from what she felt coursing through her, suddenly having things that she had only glimpsed in her father’s eyes her entire life at her fingertips in a single moment. She had most likely never looked more like Luthien Tinuviel, the certain sense of the otherworldly enhanced to a degree rarely seen in those with as slight Maia heritage as her.

‘Ada, I,’ she blinked rapidly trying to carry a train of thought through when bombarded by that of so many in the valley’s at once than she was used to, finally setting for a disbelieving, ‘Is this how you feel all the time?’

Elrond chuckled, ‘You get used to it my dear.’

‘Really?’

‘Just give it a few thousand years.’ The glare she gave him was met with perhaps less cowering and a good deal more chuckling than she would have liked.

#silmarillion #tolkien #elrond peredhel #lotr #arwen undomiel #gandalf #frodo baggins #celebrimbor #gil galad

[anneangel]

Have you noticed that Bilbo was a Hobbit described as:

“(...) bedrooms, bathrooms, cellars, pantries (lots of these), wardrobes (he had whole rooms devoted to clothes), kitchens, dining-rooms” e “panelled walls, and floors tiled and carpeted, provided with polished chairs, and lots and lots of pegs for hats and coats—the hobbit was fond of visitors”.

And in the end:

There was a great commotion, and people of all sorts, respectable and unrespectable, were thick round the door, and many were going in and out—not even wiping their feet on the mat, as Bilbo noticed with annoyance. If he was surprised, they were more surprised still. He had arrived back in the middle of an auction! (…) would sell by auction the effects of the late Bilbo Baggins, of Bag-End, Underhill, Hobbiton. (…) most of the things had already been sold, for various prices from next to nothing to old songs (as is not unusual at auctions). Bilbo’s cousins the Sackville-Bagginses were, in fact, busy measuring his rooms to see if their own furniture would fit. In short Bilbo was “Presumed Dead”, and not everybody that said so was sorry to find the presumption wrong. (…) The legal bother, indeed, lasted for years. It was quite a long time before Mr. Baggins was in fact admitted to be alive again. The people who had got specially good bargains at the Sale took a deal of convincing; and in the end to save time Bilbo had to buy back quite a lot of his own furniture. (…) Many of his silver spoons mysteriously disappeared and were never accounted for. Personally he suspected the Sackville-Bagginses. On their side they never admitted that the returned Baggins was genuine, and they were not on friendly terms with Bilbo ever after. (…) he was no longer quite respectable. He was in fact held by all the hobbits of the neighbourhood to be ‘queer’—except by his nephews and nieces on the Took side, but even they were not encouraged in their friendship by their elders. I am sorry to say he did not mind. (…) many shook their heads and touched their foreheads and said “Poor old Baggins!” and few believed any of his tales.

It must have been a little sad for Bilbo to realize that nobody welcomed him and no one welcomed his return, none any happiness, see, he came back safe and sound, after disappearing for 14 months, and it seemed like everyone preferred him dead, sad to know that most of the hobbits, neighbors and relatives he had, were only interested in his house, possessions, comfort and his money, instead of care with him, his happiness, security and feelings.

And yet he did not become someone as truly reclusive and elusive as seems, he only kept close to those who truly liked him, remained friends with Gandalf, the Dwarves and the Elves, adopted Frodo and taught Sam to read, as well as welcoming Merry and Pippin in Bag End for being Frodo's friends.

It is true that for ever after he remained an elf-friend, and had the honour of dwarves, wizards, and all such folk as ever passed that way (…) He took to writing poetry and visiting the elves (…), he remained very happy to the end of his days, and those were extraordinarily long.

#the hobbit #bilbo baggins #lotr #lord of the rings #tolkien books #book quotes #bilbo my beloved

[madwomansapologist]

Hiiii 💛💛💛 here's an idea, Mary's Song by taylor swift (an underrated masterpiece!) + your favorite member of the Fellowship of the ring (LOTR) 💖💖💖

Taylor Swift Writing Challenge: Mary's Song (Oh My My My)

Masterlist | Rules | Taglist | Library | More Aragorn | #taylor swift writing challenge | AO3

synopsis: Elrond wanted you to remain in Rivendell, but you needed to represent the Vale Elves in the Fellowship of the Ring. And you needed to make sure Aragorn was okay.

warnings: DO IT FOR FRODO. Boromir lives

note: just the best song from debut. let's be honest, it was wrote about Aragorn and Arwen. thank you for your request, you're a big inspiration for me :)

Boromir tried to light the fire, but Pippin and Merry insisted for him to teach them more about combat. Boromir complained and continued to work on the fire, but you could see his smile at the constant requests. In your opinion, the only being capable of being truly irritated with the two hobbits is Gandalf.

Frodo sat beside you at the beginning of the cave and imitated you, observing the trail. You both could see Aragorn's back, who was taking advantage of the moonlight in search of fresh meat. "How did you both meet?" Frodo asked, now glaring at you.

"It's a long story." You always found intriguing how his eyes seen to contain sparks.

Frodo opened his mouth, but you already knew what he would say. "We have time for that."

"We do, mister Frodo." You looked for Aragorn, just to make sure he was safe and sound, and turned your body towards the hobbit. Gimli was out there with him, they will be fine. "I was seven. He was nine."

Elrond welcomed him into the Valley with open arms. Men were few among the Elves, but Aragorn was never a strange presence. He was just a kid who needed a home. And there is no shortage of houses in the Valley.

You remember the house in the backyard tree. Sometimes you want to get back. Not only to that house, but to that time. You remember how you both would scream at one another, enraged by the pranks that the other made. Aragorn always said he'd beat you up, and he was bigger than you. He never did. Never.

It was easier. Life was easier. You remember the stars shining, how the sky was somehow bigger than it's now. That moment when the world was a valley wide. When Sauron, power rings and a war were just bedtime tales.

You told Frodo about how you dared him to kiss you and you were ten. Ashamed, you ran when Aragorn tried. That night you slept well.

Just two kids. Aragorn and you.

Suddenly you wasn't just a little girl and Aragorn weren't a little boy anymore. When you're sixteen, something changed. Elrond jokes with other elves stopped being just jokes.

It was about the time you both started fighting. Slamming of doors instead of hugging goodnight. You remember all the times you both fight and you ran to your room, just to find out on the next morning that he stayed outside waiting for you.

"A few years had gone and come around", you told Frodo. "We were sitting at our favorite spot in Rivendell. Right in front of the river. And Aragorn looked at me, got down on one knee."

"And what did you say?" Pippin asked. Now everyone was paying attention. "Don't stop at the best part!"

"I've said I do." You proudly stated, showing the silver ring on your hand. Gandalf smiled to himself, remembering you walking down the aisle.

"It was beautiful", said Legolas. "You were beautiful."

For today, that was the end of your story. But you know that one day it will take longer to tell it. Because one you'll talk about rocking your baby on that very front porch Aragorn asked you to be his.

You'll be eighty-seven, Aragorn will be eighty-nine. You'll still look at him like the stars that shine, telling that story for your child's child. It would be a great song. Yes, it would.

GENERAL TAGLIST: @suakemi @notanalienindisguiseblink

if you enjoyed, please reblog! i promise it makes a difference ♡

@ madwomansapologist.tumblr.

#madwomansapologist #ask box #taylor swift #taylor swift writing challenge #aragorn #aragorn x you #aragorn x reader #aragorn x y/n #lord of the rings #lord of the rings x reader #lord of the rings fic #lord of the rings x y/n #lord of the rings x you #aragorn imagine #aragorn fic #lord of the rings imagine #lotr imagine #lotr #lotr headcanons #lotr x reader #lotr x you #lotr x y/n #lotr fic #lotr aragorn #frodo baggins #frodo baggins x reader #merry and pippin #pippin x reader #merry x reader #gandalf

[mischieffoal]

LotR Musical: round 2

This is just a stream of consciousness, and I won't pretend it's a review or anything, it's just extra thoughts I had the second time I saw the musical. This is from September 20th, I've also just posted my notes on 4th October's show

Pre-show

Picked up friends along the way - we were all cloakèd this time! I saw Kelly and told her I loved her Instagram takeover!

Sadly raining, But! The pre show was still done, just indoors!! Met and chatted to Legolas, and Bilbo, and LOBELIA and I gave her a SPOON. Loved that they came upstairs to talk to us, it was well done for what is clearly a back up option. They still had fun dancing and playing hoopla etc downstairs on the stage

New cast member joined literally last week (Zara Naeem) and she just looks so natural and like she's always been there! R described Rosie as "the most wonderfully hobbit like person" (round face, amazing hair, and sheer energy at Bilbo's party)

I really love the ringle dance at the beginning, I think I am even more impressed by it and how tight everyone's choreo is because they're mostly dance moves I know from ceilidhs etc. Also very fun and not sure if intentional or just in character that someone in one of the 5 hand stars ended up facing the wrong way

I absolutely love knowing who they all are now. Aragorn and Arwen were dancing together!! And Pippin is often in the background of the next few scenes, playing her mandolin. I am now so much more cognisant of the foot tap greeting like I loved it last time but now I know how it's done I'm obsessed

Bilbo introduces the story with the “tell us a story” but it's clearly meant to be self-deprecating. Bilbo disappeared into the carved doors, and there's entire smoke, lighting and sound effects that don't happen outside that make it magical in a different way!

Act 1

I'd forgotten that after the party Frodo just... stands by himself in Bag End for a bit. He's burning papers - I wonder why. Just standing and thinking to himself - sings "road flow past your doorstep". Sam comes in, has a chat, then Rosie enters as well, and they're off to the ivy bush (apparently a phrase meaning ‘in secret’??). They are clearly inviting Frodo along, and Frodo is clearly not wanting to third wheel them, but as E said, they are trying to make it obvious that this is a tricycle, Frodo! He doesn't go with them. They foot tap goodbye. 

Frodo carries on reading things, then hides what he's reading when Gandalf knocks...?? Frodo protecting Sam from Gandalf is very cute and also gorgeous parallels to Sam protecting Frodo from Gollum just before mount Doom

Sam packs Mrs. Bracegirdle's plum cake - this man is always thinking of rations unlike anyone else in the entire musical (also E did eventually come to like Mrs. Bracegirdle's ever growing bakery but was at first incensed because "Bilbo makes his own plum cake!")

I love Merry and Pippin. So much.

The elves' lighting is just gorgeous and wonderful and I love how obvious the elf moments are and the clear differences between Rivendell elves and Lothlorien elves, and that Legolas is different again from both of them (it helps with important character status but also that Mirkwood (the northern forests) is a different group of people). However. We couldn't see the elf speaking to Frodo for shit (too high up). Sitting at the back of the balcony was definitely better for comfort but we did miss anything high on the back of the stage

I LOVE Saruman's line "a Dominion of light"

E pointed out that no one has mentioned that Hobbits are a different species yet. Barliman's opening different doors is absolute nonsense if you don't know they're tiny. Bill Ferny being racist is helpfully telling the audience that they're not human. I loved watching so many different characters this time! I was definitely trying to see everything I could, and I loved seeing extra things, but I'm glad I'm going again so I can truly sit back and enjoy it more calmly

Glorfindel is played by Folarin, a bald black dude. Incredible. 

Arwen's song of hope is called "lullaby" in the score, so she's diegetically singing it to Frodo, whilst Aragorn watches on. At the council - the rotation is SO COOL I noticed multiple characters who spoke as they reached the point where they were facing the audience. Insane detail to do 

Star of Yarandil my beloved. Arwen's HANDS they are just ALL OVER THE PLACE. She gives each member of the fellowship a blessing, and she lingers looking at Aragorn as she goes on to bless Boromir... also the hand movements. Damn. She's casting spells/blessings with her song and hands, and the whole ensemble then picks it up as well. They're VERY precise - literally each finger is doing something different, and they all do it in unison

Holy shit quick change - the fellowship finish star of Yarandil at Rivendell with Elrond, he leaves, then comes back on practically immediately as Saruman. I continue to be very attracted to Elrond/Saruman. They both stand very upright, but they have such different affects that they're just so clearly different characters - how?!

Frodo's face. So many emotions. My god that man. Thank you Samwise - so I'm wiser than a wizard? Extremely epic burn. Gimli's song isn't long enough!! I really appreciate it but it doesn't get enough time to shine! 

The songs really aren't musical songs - no character development or plot moments or emotions boiling over into song. They're just people singing songs. Here is a song I'm going to sing you about a story that is completely irrelevant, whilst some other characters have conversations about an entirely different bit of exposition. And that's what Tolkien is all about.

Yeah, compared to Gollum's death, Gandalf's death is sadly underwhelming

The Lothlorien elves do bird calls and Legolas calls back to them!! Hurrah for the stiff necks of elves and dwarves. Why did the movie cut this. Pippin is adorable. E also thought Legolas was in love with galadriel. Musicals out of context, y'all. Loooove the bollywood dancing here. Pippin is SO in character ALL of the time. Her facial expressions and how she dances - she's followng the choreo precisely but it's still clearly PIPPIN. They all sing with their characters voices as well, which is actually i think very hard and you don't really notice it because it's so seamless, whereas it's so easy to be dragged out of the story by singing not matching speaking voice. Galadriel's songs are a bit less fun when you can only see her legs... 

No Anduin we go straight to Boromir. Realised that there's no real explanation of the ring’s power over him, he just seems like an arsehole. I think that's why it's key that Frodo is shown more obviously corrupted, otherwise there's just no reason to like him. The three hunters are so so sweet with his death. Quick stormy music afterwards, including evil piccolo we love it

Act 2

Interval, still very rainy alas. I love Gollum so damn much . Ent moot is not actually plumbing, it's specific pipes they've added. I really really liked the scene with Denethor but it just wasn't dramatic enough. Needs opulence and significant lighting and timing and stuff I think. But I like the bones of it. The *words* of a king are healing. I love the 4 of them fighting together it seems so desperate but hopeful. Fucking love Saruman dude

Now and for always is about how hobbits don't like change. In the stories, they come back from their adventures and everything goes back to the way it was. That won't really happen here. Sam sings it to Frodo when he's stressing about destroying the Ring and losing the elves. Gollum joins in the chorus whilst hanging *upside down*. It feels so meaningful when Frodo joins in

God Aragorn and Arwen"s duet is so hot, they're so in love with each other and in each other and they kiss and yesssss (but also imagine aragorn just singing the harmony to himself alone in a room somewhere)

So Frodo decides to take the ring,  runs away to shelob's lair. Shelob doesn't get enough time to shine. She's wonderful and we don't see enough of her. Also Sam's final stab is a brilliant piece of blocking but didn't even get a second to land.

Sam saves Frodo, helps him better takes the ring to stop his burden. Isn't at all affected. Frodo wakes up, Gollum returns, they say thief, they all fight, Sam gives in and gives the ring back, then Gollum attacks. Sam protects Frodo so hard, don't talk to me or my friend ever again. God I love him. 

Wonder (again we can't see her singing) is a combo last battle build up, Mordor walking, last battle into mount Doom. Legolas and Gimli promise each other if they don't die today :) four orcs fighting. Sam hoists Frodo on his shoulders and carries him through and it has SO MUCH WEIGHT. Denethor is killed. One of the orcs is playing the trombone

Once again, I LOVE gollum's fall. Frodo and Sam put their waistcoats on as soon as they get out of the volcano before they even collapse! Aragorn fucking caresses Frodo. Our lives are forever entwined or some ridiculous romantic thing

I love Rosie!!! She's coming next time! Also who's Galadriel should she be worried

"You love the morning and my love is given to the evening" (apparently this is a Gimli and Eomer line) "But I thought we'd do it together" Fucking tear my heart out why don't you.

Sam is the aro friend when their best mate gets a girlfriend. He didn't realise what Frodo meant to him. Didn't realise Frodo didn't realise it. But I thought we'd do it together. Sing a duet and break my heart, yeah

Also now I've heard it more the dance version of now and for always is a banger 

Post-show

And then after! We spoke to Aoife! Folarin! He said that I gave Lobelia a spoon! We took a photo and he signed my art! Aaron! Peter! Matthew! Aaah!! Everyone on the train home is still insane about it all!! Hobbit step goodbyes!!

#lotrm #tolkien #lord of the rings musical #lotr musical

[sailforvalinor]

I don't really "do" polls, but you're right, LotR is a hopeful tragedy. I was already thinking tragedy, and then you added hopeful and I thought: perfect! The ending has always bothered me on some level, but it is still hopeful. Tolkien had seen first hand what war can do to someone, so I figure he felt to stay true to the story he had to end it that way. I always think of the movie, how Frodo smiles at the end. He's finally found a measure of peace after all that war and pain. And Sam, learns to enjoy life despite losing his best friend. It's tragic, but beautiful.

Yes, exactly! To be honest, hopeful tragedy doesn’t quite satisfy me—it certainly qualifies for Frodo and Gandalf, but I think what makes LOTR so great is that because it is truly a fictional history, all the characters are living through different genres at the same time. For Sam it’s a Hero’s Journey (ish), for Aragorn it’s an epic, as well as for Legolas and Gimli (although I think you could make the argument that they’re in a buddy cop film), Merry and Pippin are in a tragicomedy, Faramir and Eowyn are in a romance, the elves are in the third act of a tragedy, etc etc. And yet all of it has that same hopeful undercurrent that ties it all together, and I love it so much.

#also I got your ask about kh I will be answering it soon! #and oh my gosh yes that ending--it's one of the only movies i've actually shed tears over #eleven year old me was not ready

[lightthewaybackhome]

2022 reread: I've totally and utterly lost count of how many times I've read this book, but two things struck me this time:

-Frodo's Age: I'm getting closer and closer to Frodo's age when he begins this epic and personally destroying adventure, and I find myself seeing Frodo in a whole new light. You see his calmness, his wisdom, his love of the younger Hobbits, the agony of knowing the burden he bears, it all takes on a new weight when you look at it from the perspective of a 50ish-year-old man instead of a 20ish-year-old young man. The journey has more solemnity to it, and you understand the upheaval it brings to a more settled, tired point in life. You understand that he is closer in age to Aragorn than Merry and Pippin. This is another area where I think the movies lost something. The movie Frodo is far too young. Going on an adventure as a person in your 50s is way different than going on an adventure in your 20s.

-Gimil's Gift: The whole Lothlorien scene is still one of my favorites in the book. It is so elvish, more elvish than anything else Tolkien wrote. You can truly sense the beauty, timelessness, magic, joy, and sadness of these beings. Gimil's gift always makes me cry, but what struck me this time was how it brought the elves and dwarves full circle, uniting them back together. Dwarves murdered Thingol in Doriath. Thingol was kin to Celeborn, and Galadriel lived with them in Doriath for many, many years. If anyone has a right to hate Dwarves it's Celeborn and Galadriel, and yet, Galadriel goes out of her way to welcome and heal much of the rift between elves and dwarves, which is probably what makes way for Legolas and Gimli to be such friends. That relationship starts in Lothlorien. What delight must it have brought Tolkien to write some of those scenes, even knowing that his readers at the time wouldn't grasp their depths, and how thankful I am for the Silmarillion.

I love it!!!

Also, speaking of the movies, Gimli, Merry, and Pippin are all such more well-rounded, solid, courageous, and wonderful in the book. Just saying. And don't get me started on Aragorn.

#lord of the rings #the lord of the rings movies #jrr tolkien #the fellowship of the ring #reread #book review #favorite book #I'm thankful to live in a world with Tolkien

[all-the-things-2020]

A Grey Ship Sails

Summary: After the death of Aragorn, King of Gondor, Legolas and Gimli plan to sail away into the West. But someone tempts Legolas to stay behind in Middle-Earth.

Word count: 7000+

Notes: The Appendices to The Lord of the Rings give quite a bit of information about what happened to Aragorn, Sam, Merry and Pippin after Frodo and the others sailed into the West. However, there is very little mention of Legolas and Gimli, other than that after Aragorn’s death, Legolas built a grey ship and sailed down the Anduin and across the Sea, and that some say Gimli went with him. Here is my own idea of what might lay behind those brief words …

In the 120th year of the Fourth Age, the sun shone bright and fair over the wide Vale of Anduin. And yet, as he stood on a windblown hill amongst the springtime flowers and sweet herbs, Legolas Greenleaf, Lord of the Wood-elves of Ithilien, had sorrow in his heart. Sunlight glinted sharp and piercingly bright from the waters of the Great River, but it was not from longing for the sea that Legolas sighed. A great grief was coming upon him; he felt it growing like a cloud looming over the horizon.

He heard the rustle of a light foot stepping over the grass behind him. Although he was certain who it was, he did not turn, but kept his gaze on the west and the distant tower of Minas Tirith, shining like a white needle.

“A messenger has come, my lord,” spoke a low voice, beautiful and measured, like the cooing of a dove. Legolas turned to look at the Elf-maid, and his heart was troubled even more. She was tall and slender, as were all her race, fair of face and graceful as no mortal woman ever was. As always, his heart lifted at the sight of her, but it did not leap as it did when he caught the high, thin call of gulls flying past, or a breath of sea air on the breeze.

“I know,” he replied, walking toward her. “I have known for some time that the summons would come.” He sighed and shook his head. “It is always difficult to part from those we love; more difficult still when the one who departs is so great and wise, and those left behind must do the best they can without him.”

Galadhwen laid a hand on his arm, and he did not pull away. Even though he knew he should not encourage that which could not be, he was in sore need of comfort at the moment. “The King Elessar is the greatest Man to have walked the fields of Middle-earth for long years past,” she said. “Truly he was as the Kings of Men of old, the Lords of Numenor. But it is the Doom of Men that they should have only a short span of years allotted to them, and then must pass outside the circles of the world.”

“And it is our Doom to watch them go,” said Legolas. There was no bitterness in his words, only the deep sadness of the Elder Race.

Galadhwen bowed her head; she had no words to refute him. “He is dear to you,” she said gently, “and your grief at his parting will be deep. But there are others that you also care for ….”

Now Legolas did pull his arm away, and Galadhwen folded her hands together. It pained him that he must refuse her affection, and yet he knew that doing so would only spare her greater sorrow. For Galadhwen loved the fair woods of Ithilien above all else, and she was of the Wood-elves, not of the Grey-elves as he himself was. The Sea-longing would never awaken in her breast, and she would never wish to leave the shores of Middle-earth. Long ago, Legolas had heard the call of the Sea, and all these many years, it had quietly sung in his heart until now it threatened to drown out everything else, even the springtime songs of the birds and the music of the rippling waters that brought forth the sweet herbs and flowers in the garden that was Ithilien.

They walked in silence to the bottom of the hill, where Galadhwen bowed to him and left him to speak to the King’s messenger. Legolas found he listened with only half an ear to the man’s words. For he already knew the tidings which were brought to him, and instead he watched Galadhwen slip into the woods, slim and graceful as a deer, and just as at home amongst the wild trees.

The next day, Legolas crossed the Anduin, leaving quietly in the early morning so that none were aware of his going. He found a company of Dwarves awaiting him on the further bank. They were dressed not for war, but for such work as dwarves love above all else. Chisels and hammers and other implements of stone and metal work they bore with them, save their leader, who carried a mighty battle axe. His hair and beard were shot through with much silver, and he was more stout than in earlier days, but still Gimli Gloin’s son was an impressive Dwarf lord.

“Well, Master Elf,” said Gimli as Legolas drew near. “The day we have dreaded for so long draws near.”

“That is does, my friend,” said the Elf. “I walk in sorrow, for soon I must bid farewell to one who is dear to me, and to one who is fairest of all those of my kind who remain on these shores.”

Gimli bowed his head. “Let us go, then,” he said gruffly after a moment’s silence. “There is work in Minas Tirith for skilled craftsmen, and bitter work for you and me.” He hoisted his axe to his shoulder and set off at the head of the line of Dwarves. Legolas fell into step beside his old friend. The other Dwarves took up a marching song, singing softly so as not to offend their Lord, but with no need to be grim themselves. Legolas envied them their merry hearts. For he and Gimli walked toward a funeral.

They reached the gates of Minas Tirith late in the day. As they passed through the wall, Gimli grinned with pride at the magnificent mithril gates, crafted by his own people, a gift to the King of Gondor. “No Elven-smith could have wrought finer,” he declared, passing a hand over the edge of a gate as he passed.

The rest of the Dwarves left them in the first circle of the city, to go to the quarter kept ever ready for the workmen of the Lord of the Glittering Caves, who often came to the great city in service to the King. Legolas and Gimli continued on, rising steadily up the slope of the hill until they reached the highest level of the city, where only the noblest guests were received. There they rested in the forechamber of the great hall while word was brought to the King that they had arrived.

A door opened, but it was not the King who entered. It was instead his son, Eldarion, a tall man, full grown and wiser than any in the realm save his father. The blood of both the Numenoreans and the Eldar ran in his veins, and though he had seen scores of years, still his hair was dark and his face unlined. “My father the King will see you shortly,” he said. “May I offer you refreshment while you wait?” He was well mannered and gracious, yet still Legolas sensed his grief. For all that Eldarion was a mighty Prince, esteemed higher than any in the land, he had always deferred to his father’s companions, those who had ridden with him in the great War of the Ring and had been counted among the Ringbearer’s Fellowship.

“They will not have time to take wine and cakes, for I am here.” King Elessar’s voice rang clear and strong through the hall as he entered, but there was weariness in his face. Though his face bore few lines, his hair was all silver now, and for one brief moment, Legolas saw the likeness of Mithrandir, Gandalf the White, in his friend’s face.

“We have come at your summons, Aragorn,” Legolas said. As ever, when they were amongst themselves, the Companions used the King’s given name, for they remembered fondly the days when they journeyed together, before Aragorn son of Arathorn had taken the name Elessar Telcontar. But not even Legolas, who was the King’s elder by thousands of years, would presume to call him “Strider”, as the Hobbits were wont to do before they had passed away, either over the Sea or into death. Only the simple and merry Halflings would dare to call the High King of Arnor and Gondor by such a name, but it had pleased the King very much to be reminded of his humble past, and to remember as well that not all of his subjects were impressed by high white towers, fleets of ships, mighty swords and glittering gems.

“Mae govannon, Legolas,” said the King. “And welcome also to you, Gimli.” He led them through the hall to a smaller chamber, in which a fire was lit and comfortable couches and chairs were drawn up before it. Eldarion excused himself and the three companions took their seats, choosing those chairs that best suited them. Aragorn sank into a curiously carved chair of dark wood, marked with gilding and cushioned with deep blue velvet. Legolas took a finely carved chair of pale mallorn wood, a gift to the King from the artisans of Lothlorien. Gimli chose a low couch, covered with a thick tapestry but not well cushioned. A table near at hand held a pitcher of wine, and a plate of small cakes. Aragorn poured out three goblets, all made of purest silver and set with precious stones. Handing them round, and offering the cakes, he appraised his friends.

“It is good to see you both again,” he said, taking a sip of wine. He smiled suddenly. “Do you remember how we three hunted orcs across the breadth of Rohan? Those were hard days, and yet in memory, I find them sweet.”

“Many cares are laid on a lord of Men,” said Legolas. “Or of Elves – or Dwarves.” Gimli grunted in assent. “It is natural that we long for past days, when we had fewer cares.” And yet it was not the past that Legolas longed for now.

“You are wrong, Legolas,” Gimli said. “We did have cares then, grave ones. Brave men died, and the fate of Middle-earth stood on a razor’s edge. Our current cares are as nothing.”

“And yet I weary of them,” said Aragorn with a sigh. “You know why I have called you here, my friends, last of the Fellowship remaining in Middle-earth.” He rose to stand by the fire, leaning a hand against the mantelpiece. Though he still stood tall and unbowed, he showed his age. “As Isildur’s heir, with the blood of Numenor flowing in my veins, I have been granted longer life than other men. And yet I am not immortal, as are my Elven kin. Thus far have I remained strong and hale, though my hair has turned to silver. Soon, though, I will begin to falter. I feel it in my bones, Gimli.” He returned to his chair, and Legolas saw that he lowered himself carefully, as an old man will. “The grace by which I have been granted long life also grants me the right to give back the gift when I wish, not when time and chance will take it from me. My son is more than ready to take the throne, and he will rule well. I would not have my people watch me wither and lose my strength and wits.”

“Have you yet spoken of this to the Queen?” Legolas said quietly. Arwen Undomiel, daughter of Elrond Half-elven, had chosen the mortal life of her husband rather than sailing across the Sundering Sea with her father. When Aragorn gave up his life, so too would Queen Arwen. The Evenstar of her people would finally set.

“I have not,” Aragorn admitted, “though I feel she already knows.”

As if summoned by his words, the Queen entered the room. She moved quietly, yet their full attention was drawn to her immediately. Unlike her husband, she showed no sign of age, though indeed she was older even than Legolas. In the first centuries of the Third Age had she been born, and yet it was clear that Arwen had not yet wearied of her days.

She took a seat beside her lord, and the four of them spoke of old times, until the fire burned down and they were summoned to dine. As the company left the dining hall, Arwen laid her hand on Legolas’ arm and drew him a little aside.

“I know why the King has asked you here,” she said, her voice wavering just the least bit. “And I know what you plan to do once he is gone, Legolas, Lord of Ithilien.”

“Indeed,” said Legolas, “it would be well nigh impossible to keep anything of import from one as wise as you, my Queen.”

She smiled then, and shook her head. “Not so wise as some who have left us,” she said with a sigh. “Yet perhaps the wisest who still remains. Not for long, though.” She lowered her head and Legolas sensed the sorrow in her heart. “I am not ready to leave this world,” she said. “And yet it is my fate to depart soon.” She raised her head, her eyes shining not with the starlight that lingers in the eyes of the Firstborn, but with bright tears. “I ask of you a favor, Legolas, my friend.”

“You have but to ask, Arwen,” he replied. “Ever will I serve you, and your King.”

“You mean to leave these shores,” Arwen said, a far off look in her eyes. Legolas recognized it, for he often felt the same. It was the look of one who heard the call of the Sea, and could not answer it. “Do not deny it.”

“I will not,” said Legolas. “Many long years have I resisted the call, and when the King departs, I will no longer have the strength of will to deny it.”

“Then if you will, take a message for me, to my father and mother, and my grandmother Galadriel,” the Queen said.

“Gladly,” he agreed. Such sorrow filled her beautiful face, that he took her hand and pressed a gentle kiss to it. “To the ends of the earth would I go to run such an errand for you, Queen of Men and Elves.”

Arwen laid her hand against his face. “I thank you, Legolas, Thranduil’s son,” she said. “It may be that still I can persuade my lord to wait a little while, but when he has departed, I shall write my farewells to those that I love who no longer dwell within these shores, and these I will deliver to you with my own hand; and so you, who are in some way my kin, however distant, shall be the last of my people to see me walk the earth.”

“Then I will be fortunate indeed, Lady Evenstar, to see the last of the Eldar depart from Middle-earth,” he said.

The next day, King Elessar summoned his closest advisers and companions, and they gathered with great sorrow before the House of the Dead. When the King arrived, the great winged crown of the Numenoreans on his brow and the Queen Evenstar at his side, all there assembled bowed their heads, save for Legolas, who was of the Elder race and alone of all the King’s people could bear to look upon the light shining from the Elfstone’s face.

At the King’s signal, they followed him inside the House of the Dead, where a bier had been prepared, spread with cloth of gold and a silk cushion laid at the head. The King stood before this bier and called forward his son, who knelt before him. “This crown I give unto you, Eldarion Telcontar, my only son,” the King said. “For it is time for me to leave my people and go to the rest that all wise men seek.” He then took the crown from off his head and placed it on Eldarion’s brow, and it seemed to those in attendance that Eldarion grew in stature, even as he knelt before his father, and the light of kingship shone clear and steady in his eyes.

“With a heavy heart do I accept this gift from you, my father,” Eldarion said. “For no man can hope to live up to the legacy that you have wrought. Still, I am of your blood, and I will do my best to follow the path you have blazed.”

Then the King raised up his son and bowing to him, turned to lay himself upon the bier. He bade everyone leave, save only the Queen, and folded his arms upon his breast. As Legolas departed with the others, he looked back. Aragorn appeared as a man overcome with great weariness, and the Elf knew it was more than time for the King to go to his well earned rest.

They milled uncertainly outside the Houses of the Dead for a quarter of an hour, none sure what should be done. And then the Queen appeared at the door, her face pale but unstained with tears. She strode calmly to her son, and went to her knee before him. “The King is dead,” she said in a clear voice. “Long live the King.”

No one spoke for a long moment, and then Gimli, with a gruff cough cleared his throat and cried, “Long live the King Eldarion Telcontar!” Legolas took up the cry, as did many others. “Long live Eldarion Telcontar, High King of Arnor and Gondor!” Then the King raised up his mother, for he would not have her kneel before any man. With both great sorrow and great joy, the company left the House of the Dead to its solemn peace, and returned to that part of the city where dwelt the living, and word was spread that a new King sat upon the throne.

Before Legolas left the city, Arwen came to him. “I will depart soon,” she said. “Look for me in Ithilien before the Moon has reached his full.”

“Whither will you go?” he asked.

“To Cerin Amroth, where Aragorn and I plighted our troth so many years ago,” she replied. “Lothlorien fades now, but still it is the land of my mother’s people, and I was happy there. I will not lie in a cold tomb with the queens of Men, but amongst the trees and flowers beloved by our people.”

To this Legolas made no reply, and with a bow he left her.

On his way back to his realm in the woods of Ithilien, Legolas stopped in Osgiliath, where dwelt the Prince of Ithilien, grandson of Faramir and Eowyn. There he requested the use of the Prince’s men and their knowledge of shipbuilding, for now that Osgiliath was rebuilt, it had become a great inland port, with ships sailing upriver from the Sea, bearing all sorts of precious cargo and trade goods. The Prince was troubled by Legolas’ request, but as his father and grandfather before him, he held the Elf in esteem, and as an equal, for Legolas was also a prince, though he dwelt no longer in his father’s realm. And so the Prince assented, and Legolas returned to his people.

Galadhwen greeted him with concern, for word had come to the Elves of the passing of King Elessar, and all knew that their Lord would grieve for his friend. It pained Legolas to hear her words of sympathy, knowing that soon enough she would likely have words of anger for him.

The day after he returned, Legolas gathered the greater part of his people and said to them, “I have summoned you here to decide whom you will take as your Lord after me, for I will soon be leaving you.” There was great astonishment at these words, and Galadhwen fled in tears. Though he wished to follow her, Legolas continued. “Long have I heard the call of the Sea whispering in my heart,” he said. “And long have I resisted it, out of love and loyalty to the King Elessar, to help him restore the reunited kingdom. But now the King has gone, and given his realm into the hands of his son, who rules now in Minas Tirith, and it is time also that I should give these woods into the hands of another, and follow my doom. The Prince of Ithilien has granted me the use of his shipwrights, and I will build a ship as soon as may be, and sail down the Anduin and thence to the Sea.”

Then leaving them to choose as they would his successor, Legolas went in search of Galadhwen. He found her on the hill, gazing upon the Anduin, and her face was stern and cold. “I have looked on this river and its valley with joy,” she said, “but now I feel only hate, for it will bear you away from us.”

“I would stay if I could,” Legolas said, “but the Sea Longing is like an ache, that can be borne only so long before it must be relieved, or the sufferer go mad. I must follow my heart, and sail into the West.”

“Follow your heart, you say,” Galadhwen said bitterly. “I would that your heart led you somewhere closer than Elvenhome across the sea.”

“My heart is torn,” he confessed. “I would have wed you long ago, Galadhwen, if not for the knowledge that even love of you could not bind me to these shores. It is better to leave you thus, free to choose another if your heart so inclines, than to leave you alone but bound to one who has gone and will not return.”

“As bitter as it would be to know that you love me not at all, it is far worse to know that you do, and yet not enough to remain,” she said sadly.

Legolas took her hand and pressed it to his lips. “I would ask you to go with me,” he said, “if it were not that I know you would refuse. Your love for Middle-earth is as strong as my longing for the Sea. Even for love of me, you would not leave the woods and waters of Ithilien.”

Galadhwen was silent then, and pondered his words. With tears in her eyes, she nodded and said, “You speak truly. For I am afraid to take to ship and sail across the Sea, and if you will not stay with me, then I must lose you. I cannot leave this place, which is my home.”

“You are of the Silvan folk,” he said, “who have ever dwelt within Middle-earth, in heart as well as body. And I am of the Sindar, who heeded the call to join the Valar, but stopped along the way only for love of their king. Yet still, we were willing to go, and the call has only slept, not faded away.”

“I will never wed,” Galadhwen declared, “nor shall I bear any child, if you leave these shores, my lord. I swear this by Elbereth, most beloved of the Valar, for I will be faithful to you, though we shall be parted until the world ends.”

He kissed her then, tenderly, and both shed tears at the fate of their love. For though there was much love between them, neither was willing to make such sacrifice as Luthien made for Beren, or Arwen for Aragorn.

Before a fortnight had passed, Arwen Undomiel came to the woods of Ithilien, under the waxing moon. Legolas met her beside a laughing stream, but there was no joy in her heart. Quietly, she gave to him a packet of thick parchment, her written farewells to those of her family who had passed into the West.

“Give these unto my father and mother, and my grandmother, if you are still determined to sail,” she said.

“I am, and I will,” he replied. “I will guard your words as if they were precious jewels, for as such will they be regarded by those for whom they are intended.”

Then Arwen laid her hand upon his arm. “Will she sail with you, Legolas?” she said.

“No,” he replied, though he could not say how Arwen had known. “Her heart dwells here in Middle-earth, and she will not leave these shores.”

Arwen smiled sadly and dropped her hand. “So many partings,” she said. “Namarie, Legolas.”

“Namarie, Arwen Undomiel,” he replied as she turned and walked into the shadows, and was lost to his sight.

“Who was that?” said Galadhwen, appearing at his side.

“It was the Queen Evenstar, Arwen Undomiel,” said Legolas. “She is gone to her long rest, and none will ever see her again.”

“Where does she go?” asked Galadhwen. “Will she not lie beside her husband in the tombs of Men in Minas Tirith?”

“No,” said Legolas. “She goes to Cerin Amroth in Lothlorien, to fade and die with the wood wherein her grandmother Galadriel dwelt. For she is of the past, and must leave this world.” He turned then to Galadhwen and took her hand. “So too are we of the past, for this is now the Age of Men. We Elvenfolk must pass over the Sea or else dwindle and fade, until we are only a dim memory in the hearts of Men.”

“Still would I stay among the trees,” she said. “I cannot face the terrors of the Sea.” She took her hand from his, and walked away, her silver dress shining in the moonlight.

Legolas had several tall trees of Ithilien felled, with which to build his ship. Some among his people were grieved to see such noble trees brought to an untimely death, but Legolas chose wisely, and took only those trees that had reached their prime and had few years of life left before them. Their fine silver wood was hewn by the Elves and woodsmen of Ithilien, and sent to Osgiliath, where the shipwrights and carpenters wrought a small but well balanced ship, such as could be handled at need by a single sailor.

In due time, the ship was finished, and Legolas was pleased. He gifted the shipwrights with such gold as he had gathered in his time as Lord of Ithilien, and it was not without worth, for much had come to him from Gimli and the dwarves of the Glittering Caves. To the Prince of Ithilien, he gave a necklace of gold and mithril, set with a magnificent crystal that gathered and reflected even the smallest ray of light. Then returning to the woods, he made ready to depart.

On the morn of his leave-taking, Galadhwen came to him and once more asked if he would change his mind, and remain in Ithilien. And once again, Legolas asked if she would sail with him, though both knew the other’s heart was unchanged.

“Will you come to the river and see me off?” he asked, reluctant to be parted from her when there was so little time left to them.

“No,” she said, shaking her head. “I will say my farewell here, under the trees, where I belong.”

And so they were parted, and Legolas took up his pack and walked to Osgiliath, where the ship lay at anchor, straining against the ropes, so eager was she to follow the Anduin down to the Sea. On the docks were gathered the shipwrights and carpenters, and all who had a hand in the building of the ship, as well as the Prince of Ithilien and others of his household. And standing squarely in the middle of the dock, before the gangplank, was Gimli, son of Gloin, with his finest mithril mail blazing in the sun.

“I am glad you have come to see me off, Gimli,” Legolas said, taking the Dwarf’s hand.

“See you off?” replied Gimli. “No, Master Elf, I am coming with you.” He grinned at the astonishment on Legolas’ face. “You did not think I would let you go off on such a mighty adventure without someone to look after you, did you? Besides, I grow old, and even the Glittering Caves lose their charm, when I remember something of much higher beauty.” His hand went to the heavy gold necklace that he always wore, wherein was set a clear crystal, large as a hen’s egg, and within the crystal were three strands of golden hair.

“Only the Firstborn are allowed to follow the Straight Path,” said Legolas. “It may be that you will not be permitted to leave the Globed World, and must be left to drown in the wide Sea.”

Gimli dismissed such words with a wave of his hand. “I have no fear, Legolas,” he said. “I would hazard any risk for the chance to see the Lady Galadriel again. And I would rather end my days in peril and adventure, even to drown in the wide, wide Sea, than to fall into dotage and tumble from my stone seat within the Caves.”

“Then I welcome you, my friend,” said Legolas. “And it is high time to depart, for the wind is from the north, and will speed us on our way.”

They stepped onto the ship, followed by three sailors of Osgiliath, who would teach them the ways of the Sea. Behind them, a larger ship also weighed anchor, for she would escort them until they were well out from shore, and then take back on board the three Men.

Down the Anduin the grey ship sailed, and as they passed the high hill Legolas saw, with his clear sight, Galadhwen standing tall and proud with her hair unbound in the breeze, her hand raised in farewell. He raised his own hand to her, and Gimli asked, “What is it?”

“It is the lady Galadhwen,” Legolas replied softly, and Gimli was wise enough to say no more. Legolas stood in the stern, until they had passed so far down river that even Elvish sight could no longer behold her. Then he turned to face the prow, and looked behind no more.

They sailed south until, as night drew near, Legolas heard the cries of seabirds, wheeling in the air above the ports of Gondor. The evening breeze rose soft and cool from the water and swept upstream, bringing the scent of salt and seaweed and fish, and faintest of all, a hint of unearthly flowers blooming beyond the ken of mortal Men. Then did his heart leap up with joy, and he knew he had chosen aright. He would regret nothing, for this was his destiny.

The ship lay at anchor that night among the fleet of Gondor, but Legolas refused to go ashore. “I will not set foot on land again,” he said, “until I reach the shores of Eldamar across the Sea.” Gimli and the sailors left the ship, and Legolas lay awake all the night, watching the stars wheel past and the moon make his journey across the sky. Just before the sun arose, Earendil sailed above the horizon, and the beauty of the light he bore pierced Legolas’ heart with wonder. Soon, he thought, he would be among those who had not only seen the light of the Silmarils, such as the one Earendil wore on his brow, but even the light of the Trees, which had long been lost to the world.

When Gimli and the others had returned aboard, they set sails and left the River behind. As the prow cut the first wave, Legolas felt his Sea Longing subside at last. Long the ships sailed, the sleek grey vessel ever in the lead, following the coast westward, but always standing far off from shore. The sailors imparted all their knowledge of navigation and steering, and other arts of the sea, which Legolas was eager to learn.

After many days, the land fell away behind them, and nothing lay ahead but open sea. Onward both ships sailed, until at evening Legolas bade them furl their sails and rest, for on the morrow they would part. They rode at anchor that night, and the sailors aboard the Elven ship toasted the fate of their companions, and many fine speeches were made. And in the bright morning, they were set down in a small boat, and went across to the other ship, where their fellows took them aboard. Then both ships set sails again and the wind from the east sent them westward.

Legolas held the tiller and steered the grey ship straight and true. Gimli, gripping his axe with one hand and Galadriel’s lock with the other, stood in the bow, peering ahead for a sign of land. The two ships sailed side by side, and as they mounted a great sighing wave, the grey ship shuddered, and Gimli fell against the wales. Legolas braced his feet and stayed upright, as the grey ship left the Globed World and moved onto the Straight Road. The mortal ship disappeared, sailing on across the curved sea.

“Behold!” Legolas cried as he spied, far in the distance, beyond the sudden mists, a tall white tower. “It is the harbor of Alqualonde. We have reached the Straight Way, and have left Middle-earth behind.”

Gimli rose to his feet and stood with his mouth agape. The wind bore them swiftly toward the shore, and soon they were met by the white swan-ships of the Teleri, who of all the Firstborn have always loved the Sea. With such an escort, they reached the harbor and safely docked.

Legolas sprang ashore, while Gimli came more cautiously behind. Many Elves were there to greet them, arrayed in various colors and adorned with lustrous gems. The throng parted as the two companions walked among them.

“Welcome to Elvenhome,” said a familiar voice, and Legolas saw that Elrond Half-elven stood among the crowd. Beside him was his wife, Celebrian, who had sailed into the West long ago, and with them was Galadriel.

“The Lady Galadriel!” Gimli cried, rushing forward as soon as he spied her. He went to his knee before her and gazed up with reverence. “Long have I dreamt of beholding your beauty again, my Lady, and of serving you in whatever manner you deem wise.”

Galadriel smiled. “Rise, Gimli son of Gloin, most devoted of Dwarves,” she said. “By some grace you have reached these shores, and so you must be deemed worthy of much honor. I would not have you kneel before me.”

Then Gimli rose, still clutching the pendant in his hand, and Legolas took the packet of letters from his pocket. He had not thought to find Arwen’s family so quickly, and yet he had carried her missives on his person rather than in his baggage.

“These I bring from one who loved you,” he said, handing the packet to Elrond, who took it gravely.

“Then my daughter is lost to me once again,” he said. “And my foster son as well. Your coming brings sorrow as well as joy, son of Thranduil.”

Legolas bowed his head, for he could not deny it. And yet the very air burned in his lungs, and the light was so piercingly clear that he could feel nothing but joy. He had loved Greenwood the Great, and the primeval forests of Fangorn, and the gentle forests of Ithilien, but nothing in Middle-earth could compare with the beauty and delight of Eldamar.

“There is another of your acquaintance who wishes to see you,” said Galadriel. “Come, he awaits you in my house.”

Then Legolas and Gimli willingly followed her, and they traveled without weariness until at the fading of the day, they reached a noble dwelling. In the garden, Legolas spied a figure wrapped in billowing white.

“Mithrandir!” he exclaimed, and the figure turned to greet him. It was indeed Mithrandir, Gandalf the White, as merry as always, with depths of wisdom in his eyes.

“Legolas,” said Mithrandir. “And Gimli. So at least some of our Fellowship are reunited, once again.” He gestured for them to join him on the alabaster benches that ringed a glittering fountain.

“What of Bilbo and Frodo?” Legolas asked, at the mention of the Fellowship. “And Sam, I hear, sailed as well. What of them?”

Mithrandir bowed his head. “Tomorrow, if you wish, I will take you to where they lie,” he said.

“They are dead, then,” said Gimli gruffly. “I had thought perhaps they were granted immortality for their labors.”

Galadriel shook her head. “Not even the Valar can take back the Gift of Iluvatar,” she said. “Only the Firstborn remain in the world for ages on end. The Halflings – and even your own kind, Gimli – share the fate of the Secondborn. Bilbo, Frodo and Sam were granted much longer life than they would have enjoyed had they remained across the Sea, but only so far did the power of the Valar extend. In the end, they went to their well deserved sleep, as do all mortals who walk the earth.”

These words troubled Legolas, for it came to his mind as if for the first time, that of all the Fellowship of the Ring, only he and Mithrandir would remain. And even as he joined Gimli and Gandalf in recounting the adventures they had shared, he pondered this thought in his heart.

On the following day, Gandalf led them to a small glade amongst a forest of trees that made the mallorns of Lothlorien seem the merest scrub. Set in the midst of the glade were three white stones, graven with the names of the valiant Hobbits who slept beneath them. A sprinkling of delicate flowers covered the mounds, and Legolas felt a great peace as he walked among the stones.

“Did he find rest?” he asked, his hand on Frodo’s gravestone.

“Yes, he did,” said Gandalf. “Rest and peace in plenty.” He sighed. “No hero of the First Age ever faced more grief and pain than Frodo did, and yet somehow he had the strength to come through it relatively unscathed. What his own nature could not heal, the Valar did. Until his final days, he was merry and light-hearted again, like the young carefree hobbit I used to know.”

They left the glade to its silence and went back into the city, where Legolas and Gimli had each been given a house to dwell in. Gimli’s was carved of warm golden stone, and well suited to a Dwarf, which he wondered at. Yet the Noldor had been fond of crafting and building, even as the Dwarves, and some of them did not follow Feanor across the sea to Middle-earth. Legolas dwelt in a small house surrounded by a lush garden, with many trees growing not only beside the walls, but within them as well.

This house lay on the outskirts of the city, near a hill that overlooked the shore. That evening, Legolas climbed the hill and sat upon a great shelf of stone, carved with curious figures long, long ago. He looked out to the Sea as the shadow of the land stretched out over it, to cover the waves in shadow.

“What are you thinking of?” said Mithrandir, appearing so suddenly that even Legolas did not hear him approach.

“Many things,” said Legolas, “but mostly of one I left behind.”

Mithrandir nodded sagely, and lit his pipe. The sweet, pungent scent of pipeweed filled the air. Legolas had never been fond of the habit, wondering why hobbits and men would wish to foul the air and their own lungs with such a reek. And yet now, the smell of pipe smoke drew him back in memory to the day Isengard fell, and Merry and Pippin were found lounging upon the ruins of the gatehouse.

“A lady, I presume,” Mithrandir said at last.

“Yes,” said Legolas. “Galadhwen is her name. She would not leave Ithilien.”

“And so you sailed without her,” the wizard said, blowing a smoke ring that formed itself into the perfect image of the sleek grey ship that had borne Legolas and Gimli across the Sea.

“I had to,” Legolas said. “I would not stay, and dwindle, watching the cities of Men grow greater and greater, forgetting their brothers who dwell amongst the trees. I do not presume to be among the wise, Gandalf, but I know this much: Elves, Dwarves, Ents, even the Halflings, will all be driven back, forgotten in all but the old tales that are told to children. One day, Men will scoff at he who speaks of our kind as having truly lived. And those who remain will hide in the wilderness, fearful and forgetful of the glory that was once theirs.” When he finished speaking, he felt a bit dazed, as if some one other than himself had spoken with his voice.

“And there is something else,” he went on. “I have thought much about what Galadriel said, of the Gift of Iluvatar. All my life I have wondered at that phrase, for why should it be called a Gift, when Men are made feeble and weak by age, and must leave those they love after a handful of years? Yet now I think I understand.”

“And why is that?” Gandalf prompted.

“Because Men, and Dwarves and Hobbits, and all mortal beings, are not bound to the Circles of the World,” Legolas said. “Even as they see their loved ones fall, they are consoled to think that, if all that is said is true, when they too depart the world, they will be reunited with those who have gone before. This is not true of the Firstborn, for we must endure until the world itself is unmade. Even those who fall in body do not leave Arda, but are gathered into the Halls of Mandos to await the end.” He sighed heavily. “Were I a mortal Man,” he said, “I would be able to believe that in due time, I should leave this world, and in that world beyond which Elvenkind cannot reach, I would find Galadhwen again. But I do not possess the Gift of Iluvatar, and so I must wait all the long ages of the world in hopes of seeing her yet again.”

Mithrandir nodded, puffing on his pipe, and said nothing for some while. And then he quietly said, “And yet, ships can still be built, and some remain who can sail the Straight Road, and who can tell what will come to pass in the long years that remain to the world?” He rose then, knocked the ashes from his pipe, and walked away.

Legolas remained on the hill, long after the sun had gone away. His heart was lighter than it had been, though still he sorrowed. When Earendil sailed into the sky, his light reflected in the gentle waves of the sea, Legolas rose and walked in hope beneath the stars.

#lord of the rings #lotr #lotr fanfic #lord of the rings fanfic #legolas greenleaf #legolas #gimli #gimli son of gloin #middle earth #tolkien #tolkien fanfiction

[weaselle]

in this essay i will hobbits

here is something about Hobbits i’m not sure everyone gets

hobbits are cockroaches

i mean that in such a loving way, but they truly are the cockroaches of the LOTR races. Maybe that’s a bit much -- but they are super sneaky and super hard to kill.

Let me sum up. No, is too good. Let me explain

First of all, they are the sneakiest sneakers.

Hobbits are just naturally nearly invisible most of the time except when they are in their other natural state, Being Noticed. 

They are small, they are barefoot, they live in little burrows, they are THE SNEAKIEST SNEAKERS.

The books (and therefore movies) are low-key from the point of view of the Hobbits themselves (we are actually meant to be reading the book(s) written by Bilbo and Frodo, you know, that leather bound thing with the actual book titles on it that we see handed over to Sam at the end). It’s all a hobbit POV, and since hobbits find the sneakiness of other hobbits to just be normal, it isn’t explicitly focussed on.

Think about it though. They are small, they have large padded feet and never wear shoes, they are very quiet and hard to notice -- except when they are Being Noticed.

In fact, Being Noticed is a part of how they are so sneaky, because everyone who knows hobbits knows they love to sing, and dance, and mess about with everything, and have loud opinions, so of course you always know where the hobbit is... until suddenly you don’t.

Usually you see them chucking rocks at stuff, or shoving their friend, or hear them singing a song, or complaining about literally everything in that almost cheerful conversational way they have of complaining, or asking endless inane questions ...

But that’s how you always and easily know right where the hobbit is, you never get around to listening for footfalls or other signs of their presence. You never even have to really look for one. For the last hour they’ve been slightly behind you on your left side, idly wondering out loud how many bad puns about dogs they could make. But suddenly you notice you haven’t actually heard them make any noise for five minutes and you now have zero idea where the hobbit is.

What do their footfalls and breathing sound like? what do they smell like? They, well, hell, they smell like food, don’t they. That’s what you always smell when you’re around a hobbit. They are so good at Being Noticed that you don’t actually have to notice anything about them. So when they stop Being Noticed, they go entirely unnoticed. 

But even if you’ve never noticed a hobbit before, if they don’t want to be seen, you probably don’t see them.

I mean, it takes forever, but the Fellowship’s plan was basically: give The Ring to one of these ghosty little shadow steppers, and let them walk it right through the middle of the enemy’s home base.

Yeah, for sure, the enemy is personified as a literal giant Eye that Sees All, and yeah, he is obsessively looking specifically for this thing (which, by the way, is calling out to him) but don’t worry, this fine fellow and his gardener are going to walk it right under his actual eyeball without him noticing. 

And it works!

The reason this works is because Hobbits are the sneakiest sneakers to ever sneak around Middle Earth.

consider this

Elrond, a ruler of elves, thousands of years old, no stranger to secrecy and hidden things, calls a high-level secret meeting among vassals from the highest powers left in the land. A meeting held in the center of his own controlled realm. And not one but three! uninvited hobbits find out about it, show up to it, = and secretly observe the entire thing unbeknownst to kings, wizards and elves. Not even mentioning what I assume must have been SOME kind of guards or security force appointed by Elrond.

I love the angry startled look Movie-Elrond gives Merry and Pippin when they run into the meeting to join their kin. Like, he was very gracious about Sam, played it super cool, but then this ruler of elves sees two more!? hobbits jog right into the middle of his very private meeting and he’s clearly all “how the fuck?!”

And yo, it must have been embarrassing to have his most secret of meetings be so entirely spied on. And not spied on by magic or espionage professionals, no. His fate-of-the-world secret military meeting was just sort of invisibly and casually attended by, though i say it affectionately, a sort of average kind-hearted chap and a couple of idiots.

But nobody throws shade at Elrond over it, nobody even makes a comment, no sarcastic “if your vaults are as well guarded as your secret meetings my Lord Elrond, I am afraid you may find yourself without coin” Instead everyone just seems to be like “yep, hobbits stepping out of nowhere, that’s hobbits for you”

Or think how, in The Hobbit (book or movie[s]) Those dwarves were like “how the hell are we going to sneak past a dragon, a DRAGON of all things, ultimate predator created by dark forces, how can we sneak in right under his actual nose?” and Gandalf immediately thinks “A Hobbit could do that. Any hobbit at all could do that, actually -- the real trick would be getting some hobbit to agree to travel more than three days from his hole...”

And then in nearly every encounter, this gentle-hobbit, who is missing his fine linen hankie, manages to sneak off and not be noticed by whatever enemy they face. Near the end of the book Bilbo comes and goes between the various armed forces like he’s going for a morning stroll, just leaving guarded fortresses and showing up at king’s tents like it’s nothing. Sure he’s got the ring, but i am certain this is only augmenting his stealthing habits, not creating them.

Early in the fellowship one of the Nazgul stands directly over the four hobbits while actively searching for hobbit-shaped prey AND feeling the homing energy of the ring, and all four hobbits still stay unnoticed. 

I’m convinced the elven cloak works so well to hide them at the gates of Mordor because natural hobbit abilities to stay hidden and the simple elvish cloaking magic crank each other up to 11. Like, that same cloak would not have hidden Gimli the same way in that situation, i’m sure. It would have helped, maybe enough to work at a distance, but not at the enemy’s very feet like that. But a hobbit could almost pull that off even without an elvish cloak, so it’s no problem to do so while wearing one.

Faramir only finds them because a distracted Frodo literally bounces off him while walking through the bushes.

All the time, the hobbits hide and sneak. Frodo and Sam even sneak out of the middle of a group of orcs that are focused on them when they get inspected while disguised as orcs in Mordor. Like the Head Inspector, looks right at them and demands to Inspect Specifically Them, and they, so done in they are barely able to march, still manage to just, y’know, start a distraction and vanish.

Hobbits are, just, unbelievably stealthy

Now think on this. If I asked someone who the sneakiest character from LOTR is, you know who they would say. The sneakiest, stealthiest character in the lord of the rings universe? You all know exactly who everyone would say.

And that’s exactly who is the only one to be able to consistently and accurately locate and sneak up on hobbits. Gollum, that sneakiest of creatures, who spent five hundred years perfecting the art of slinking unnoticed through the tunnels of the Mountain Goblins, skulking around and actually preying on the goblins and never getting caught. Only Gollum manages to find the hobbits again and again, ambushing them several times. And likewise hobbits are quicker than most to notice when Gollum is sneaking around, even catching him unaware a time or two. Two stealth builds playing chess. 

Now onto Hardy as in Hard to Poison

I wholeheartedly agree with another post i saw proposing hobbits are naturally poison resistant. The post pointed to their almost reckless lust for shoving mushrooms into their mouths as an implication of both the reason for an evolved immunity, and the example of it working. The same post notes Boromir’s description of Mordor as being a deadly environment “the very air you breathe is a poisonous fume” supported by there being no birds or fish or i think animals of any kind in the surrounding marshes... and yet the hobbits live relatively well there, merely inconvenienced instead of dying.

There are many instances of hobbits being particularly resilient.

Frodo is resistant to being stabbed by the morgul blade on Weathertop, which by rights should have either killed him or transformed him into a wraith. The wound is so virulent in corruptive magic that it never heals, and Frodo is like “you know? sometimes it bothers me a bit” Merry survives a similar cursed wound after stabbing the Witch King in battle and recovers completely. On the twisted magic paths of Mirkwood, only Bilbo was able to keep his head and break free of the spell, refusing to become fully hypnotized, correctly assessing the source of the enspellment (noxious fumes) and climbing up a tree to fresh air. Even Pippin is startlingly resilient to Sauron himself when he handles the Palantir, giving away no information and refusing to answer questions even having his will bent by the Dark Lord himself. And then afterward recovers completely without any desire to seek the seeing stone again, which is nearly as seductive an artifact as a ring of power.

The hobbits are noted by many of the important knowledgeable characters as being very hardy - Aragorn remarks upon it. Elrond and Gandalf both notice the one ring’s soul-poisoning curse seems to have a much weaker effect on true hobbits

(sidebar: smeagol’s character was only “hobbit-like” for example being “river-folk” instead of what we could call burrow-folk, and were probably quite different form hobbits in some ways) True hobbits all fare better with the ring than Smeagol and Deagol did that fateful day.

Bilbo handles it quite well, all things considered, for a significant time. Frodo even tries to give the ring away several times, which is probably impossible for most. Sam struggles only for a few seconds with it, when he returns it to Frodo in the orc tower after Shelob’s lair; as I recall more curious about than overcome by the feeling of the ring’s attempted possession of him, if i remember the books correctly.

And Speaking of Shelob! I know i know, “if hobbits are so poison resistant why could Shelob so easily poison Frodo?” 

Well first of all, Shelob is an actual demon of rather royal evil lineage, so jot that down.

She is stated to have multiple poisons, and while that orc had every right to assume she was playing with her food as usual, he didn’t see Frodo make a real threat of himself by attacking Shelob with elvish magic. There is every reason to believe she was intent on killing Frodo actually. And then, spider-wise, simply was not going to waste a meal. I’m saying there’s a good chance she dosed Frodo with something much more deadly than sleepytime juice, and he recovered fine anyway.

But even if that’s not the case, Shelob is a literal demon older than Sauron, and i’m sure if she wanted to paralyze a hobbit she could. Even, as not the book but the movies do seem to imply, through mithril mail. Shelob’s mother partnered with Sauron’s old boss to basically end the first world, and later survived a battle against an entire army of balrogs when he drove her off. Shelob herself is a demon at least equal to a Balrog, I’m certain if she wanted, her sting could pierce a dragon’s hide or any metal of equal strength.

And not just Frodo, but Sam also survives a bit of an encounter with her venom.

In the books she half smothers Samwise in a puddle of her various poisons that spill from her slashed abdomen. It nearly makes him lose consciousness and i’m positive being half drowned in a literal puddle of demon venom would have killed most things, and he just shakes it entirely off with the help of a minor blessing from Galadriel (which, by the way, is a get-what-you-give kind of magic, the book explicitly says Galadriel’s Phial acted strongly for Sam because of his own inner strength: “As if his indomitable spirit had set its potency in motion, the glass blazed suddenly like a white torch in his hand”)

In the book it goes

“[Shelob] yielded to the stroke, and then heaved up the great bag of her belly high above Sam's head. Poison frothed and bubbled from the wound. Now splaying her legs she drove her huge bulk down on him again ... as Sam was crushed slowly to the ground.”

I presume a puddle of some sort resulted because the book describes her after being wounded as dribbling venom from her mouth and dragging a trail of green slime behind her when she retreats.

So she spews poison from an abdomen wound over his head (and possibly throws up some poison too) and then uses that poison covered belly to push him into the resulting puddle. Sam is effected thusly

“Sam had fallen to his knees by Frodo's head, his senses reeling in the foul stench, his two hands still gripping the hilt of the sword. Through the mist before his eyes he was aware dimly of Frodo's face and stubbornly he fought to master himself and to drag himself out of the swoon that was upon him”

Then moments later, after a jolt from Galadriel’s Phial “And with that he staggered to his feet and was Samwise the hobbit, Hamfast's son, again.” And he charges back into the fight

This demon gives him a damn poison swirly and he’s all, “Wow! that was bracing!” smacks, like, an epipen in his leg, and comes back swinging

Anyway, I could go on and on but what i’m saying is hobbits are clearly the stealthiest beings on Middle Earth, and are also nearly immune to all toxins, be they physical or magical. They are the perfect rogue... except they don’t want any excitement and largely refuse to go adventuring.

unless it’s the literal fate of the world at stake. Or maybe, maaaybe, if you send a company of hungry dwarves to eat ALL the hobbit’s food stores uninvited, and then offer to pay them back for what was basically a small warehouse of food (plus compensation for the severe emotional damage involved of course) but only if the hobbit promises to come along and help secure the funds to be used in payment of said debt. Maybe. It’s that or the end of the world.

Otherwise it’s help yourself to another ale (and bring me another too) on your way out the door, no hey, i’m over here now, what do you mean stop sneaking around

#tolkien #lotr #why did i just write so many words about this

[wisheduponastar]

Not like pipeweed after all (Gen, 4.5k)

For Day 5 of @tolkienfamilyweek. Prompt : Found Family

Pippin has run out of long-bottom leaf, and it turns out so has Merry. They try and persuade Strider to find some for them, and he does. It turns out, however, this substitute isn’t exactly what they have in mind - their pipeweed isn’t normally this strong. Luckily, they’re around friends - and Boromir is here for them.

Or~ Pippin & Merry accidentally get high, but Boromir is there for them - and has to put up with shenanigans.

Read on Ao3

Ah, so it's not explicitly found family, but tell me they're not brothers-

He had packed far too lightly for this trip, Pippin reflected as he hoisted his pack further up his shoulders. Not that it, in any way, stopped his pack from being much too heavy. Now it was just filled with food, and things for everyone - rather than just for him. What he wouldn’t give to go back to his younger self. Well, younger self was slightly rich - it had been only about three months since he left the shire, three months and a bit.

He hadn’t been counting, especially as days in Rivendell seemed to move so unusually. Sam would almost certainly know, however, if Pippin were to ask him. But the main thing was what Pippin would say to his younger self. He wouldn’t tell him not to go on the quest - for it was going fairly well so far.

Pippin broke off his thoughts for a few seconds, simply looking around. Strider, well, Aragorn, was at the front of the group and in conversation with Gandalf. Also in front of him was Merry, who was currently talking to Boromir - captain of Gondor. And heir to… the stewardship of it? Merry and Pippin had asked Boromir about it once, but he wasn’t very willing to answer - which was rather unusual, as he normally talkative when talking about his hometown. Home city. Gondor was too big to be called a town, apparently.

Turning on his heel as he walked, Pippin spun round to observe who was behind him. Immediately behind Pippin and joining him in the, if he did say so himself, rather respectable, middle were Frodo and Sam - both walking and talking rather cheerfully. Then was Gimli, and then Legolas. Both looked as if they wanted to guard the rear, but neither wanted to be walking exactly next to each other - the awkward two-step inbetween them their compromise.

Grinning slightly, Pippin turned around again, jogging a small amount to catch up to Boromir and Merry.

“Merry, you can’t just leave me!” He cried, grinning and waving slightly as he made pace with the two of them.

Breaking off from the conversation, Merry titled his head to look behind him, “Maybe you shouldn’t be so slow, eh Pip?”

“My pack’s heavier,” Pippin defended, although he was unsure of whether it was true. They had been given almost the same amount of things, so it really depended on what his fellow hobbit had packed.

“I wish my pack was heavier,” said Merry, suddenly mood-swinging to somewhat forlorn, and wistful.

Boromir looked down, slight concern in his eyes, “How so? I assure you we have enough food to last all of us this journey.”

“Oh no, nothing like that,” and with just those words most of Merry’s more cheerful attitude was back, “It’s just, I’ve smoked the last of my longbottom leaf - my pack just doesn’t feel the same without it.”

He broke off briefly from his mourning, and looked up at the sky, “I wish I’d brought more of it, or re-stocked at Rivendell.”

“I don’t think the elves are big on smoking,” observed Pippin, “But yes, if I could go back and tell younger me one thing - it would be to pack more longbottom leaf.”

“Truly?” Boromir laughed as he asked, surprised at how simple a hobbit's desire could be, but also with some good-natured envy. To have such little regrets about leaving, that the main thing you’d change was how much leaf you packed.

“See, Boromir,” Merry looked up, “You wouldn’t have any longbottom leaf, would you?”

Boromir shook his head, “No, but I am not completely sure what it is.”

“Here,” Pippin said, rummaging around the various add-ons to his bag, and finding the pot he stored his pipeweed in. Carefully, Pippi reached in and took the smallest amount he could - still enough for a smoke, but not enough for anything more. Holding it aloft, he gestured to Boromir, “This is longbottom leaf. Proper good stuff, it is.”

Boromir peered at it for a second, before recognition sparked in his eyes, “Ah. We call it sweet galenas.”

“D’you smoke it?”

“Not that I am aware,” was the honest answer, as Boromir did not engage in too much smoking or drinking, especially not of late, “It is only noted for its sweet fragrance.”

Merry looked slightly crestfallen, “So there isn’t much hope you’ll have any on you?”

“I am afraid not,” Boromir seemed to muse over the problems for a second, “Although Aragorn has a pipe, does he not? He may have some, or at least something similar.”

“You, Boromir, are a genius!” Declared Merry, a grin already on his face - eager to speed away and ask.

“Yes, a credit to all of Gondor,” tacked on Pippin who, although still having some pipeweed left, sped off with even more urgency than Merry - the two briefly leaving Boromir alone to smile after them and walk slightly faster, waiting for them to return.

“Aragorn! Aragorn!” Was the chorus that came from the two of them, causing the ranger to turn round and stare - conversation with Gandalf broken off. Merry had the decency to avert his eyes and look sheepish, however Pippin did not - until Merry nudged him worriedly.

“Ow- Merry,” he started, before cutting himself off and looking down slightly, “Ah, Gandalf. We didn’t mean to interrupt your conversation.”

There was good intention in Pippin’s words, before his eyes suddenly lit up with a new idea, “Say - Gandalf, you don’t have any pipeweed, do you? See me and Merry have almost finished-”

“Merry, don’t nudge me that hard!”

“Pip. We’re trying to be polite, charming,” Merry looked sideways, then back at Pippin again, “We’re trying to charm Gandalf and Strider into giving up their pipeweed, not whatever you’re doing!”

“Ah - so that it was you are after,” there was no accusation in Aragorn’s voice, just lightheartedness, “Well, I am sorry my friends - but I have no more left at the moment. I dropped the last of my Southlinch when we were ambushed by crebain.”

“Southlinch?” Questioned Merry curiously.

“A type of pipeweed, grown in Bree,” supplied Aragorn, a warmer smile, “Have the two of you none left?”

“I have a little…” confessed Pippin, “But I want to save it for a special occasion, one of our great victories. Or maybe a horrific tragedy of some kind.”

“Horrific tragedy?” Echoed Gandalf disapprovingly, “Do not think so darkly, Peregrin Took!”

While the small scolding took place, in which Pippin did have the decency to look immediately down this time, Aragorn seemed to be thinking and observing the situation around him. There were a few moments of silence as they walked, Aragorn staring at the plant life before eventually he spoke, “You know, Master Brandybuck, I may be able to find something similar to pipeweed. If you are interested?”

“Of course!” Was the immediate answer from both hobbits, at the same time. Another chuckle came from Aragorn, and he nodded, “We are on the lookout for a plant called wild dagga, or leonurus. It can be from your to my height, and has a dark green stem with bright orange flower-like parts to it. Should you see something like that, alert me.”

Nodding, and promising reassurances, the hobbits smiled and chattered among themselves before retreating quietly back to Boromir.

“Good news my friend, I assume?” Boromir questioned as they went back, taking note of their large grins.

“Oh yes!” Answered Merry, “I’ve found a way to get us some more pipeweed. Or something close to it, at least. We’re looking out for a plant, it can be from my to your height, and it’s orange.”

“Anything else?” Boromir asked with sincerity, quickly scanning the surroundings to see if a plant like that would immediately appear.

“I don’t think so,” Merry trailed off for a second, looking to his friend, “That was it, wasn’t it Pippin?”

“I’m fairly certain,” was the confident response, “Shouldn’t be too hard, there aren’t that many orange flowers near here, are there?”

“I haven’t seen any,” supplied Boromir, the closest any of them could get to confirmation. Together, the three continued to talk for a bit about various herbs, and then their surroundings - which inevitably led to talk of the shire, which in turn prompted talk of Gondor. Eventually, Pippin looked up and asked, “Boromir, do you smoke often?”

“Not often, no,” Boromir answered, “It is harder to get than most ales, if I should have the opportunity to smoke or drink.”

“I suppose being a lord-”

“Steward,” Boromir corrected quickly, then looked apologetic, “I am sorry, please go on Pippin.”

“No problems,” was the cheerful answer, “But I suppose being a steward you wouldn’t drink much, would you?”

“I wouldn’t say that,” Boromir decided to be frank, “I probably drank as much as the next person in my guard, probably slightly less. We had responsibility, so we almost certainly drank less than hobbits.”

Merry and Pippin exchanged annoyed glances, then Merry spoke up, “We didn’t drink that much. Besides, I didn’t know you could get ale in a pint before I left the shire.”

“Well, if you take into account your body size compared to mine,” began Boromir, before stopping that train of thought and instead contributing, “Well, I have certainly smoked less.”

“Only because you didn’t have as good leaf,” Pippin responded, in a somewhat sympathetic way. “Don’t worry, we’ll teach you the art of the pipe, won’t we Merry?”

“Oh yes,” there was pride in Merry’s voice, “D’you know, us hobbits were the first to put pipeweed in pipes?”

“Truly?” Asked Boromir, “You hobbits never cease to surprise, I’ll give you that much.”

“Thank you!” Merry said, making eye-contact with Boromir - and genuinely smiling. The two hobbits exchanged grins under the man’s gaze, a large grin spreading almost ear to ear - both of their faces mimicking each other.

Then they fell back into the easy rhythm of talking about whatever caught their fancy. When Pippin started the conversation, it was to complain about the long roads - which led onto discussions of horses and various modes of transportation (for a few minutes there was heated debate between Merry and Pippin as to whether Boromir would be able to ride a Shire pony or not). Eventually Merry had butted in, instead beginning a talk about the mayor of Shire, and then its various laws - and then the Gondor legal system (which, to be fair, was mainly the hobbits listing progressively more obscure actions before asking if they were legal).

When it was Boromir’s turn to start the conversation, it would also usually be about the Shire - or about hobbit life in general. He was more curious about their general lives, and the peace of the Shire, just how different it was to Gondor. At one their conversation started on where Boromir should stay, if he ever visited the Shire. Well, he said ‘if’, Merry and Pippin said ‘when’. It was during their conversation that the plant was spotted.

“Lobelia’s got a rather large ceiling, hasn’t she Merry,” observed Pippin, “D’you think she’d let Boromir stay at hers?”

“Pippin, are you suggesting we inflict Lobelia on Boromir?” Was the retort, “We want him to like the Shire, not- oh wait, I think I see the plant!”

Both of his companions' heads turned to see where his gaze was following. About ten or so metres away was a patch of the plant. Wild dagga, Pippin was pretty sure. This variety was taller than him, but shorter than Boromir - coming away at about the five foot mark. Overly large for a plant, Pippin decided, especially if it wasn’t even a tree.

“D’you think it’s the right thing, Boromir?” Asked Pippin, looking up briefly as he spoke before returning to stare at the plant.

“Herblore is not my expertise,” was the start of the answer, but Boromir smiled, “However it does look like what you described. I doubt there would be any harm in asking if they are the correct plants.”

“They look like the dagga to me,” contributed Merry, “Wait here - I’ll ask Aragorn!”

With that, Merry sped up again - a short and sudden burst of speed, before it quickly descended into a jog - damn this backpack. Still trying to catch up, the ranger and the wizard had walked awfully far ahead, Merry instead called out, “Wait! We think we’ve found the wild…” his mind briefly drew a blank as to what it was called, “The plant you were talking about!”

This seemed to catch Aragorn’s attention, for he nodded briefly to Gandalf and then began to walk back towards the hobbits, “So, my friends, you say you’ve found some?”

“Yes, over there!” Merry pointed out the blooming orange stalks, smiling, “That is the plant you wanted, right?”

“It is, that is very well observed master hobbit.” With thanks, and a promise to share it out equally among all who wanted it, Aragorn traversed off-the-path a little, going up to the plants and taking off the leaves and flowers.

“Will you try some Boromir?” Questioned Pippin, looking up at the man as they began walking.

Boromir seemed to consider it a second, “I am not sure. You should try some first, I will trust your judgement.”

“Really?” Asked Merry, before blushing slightly and looking at the path in front, “I mean, of course. We are experts on pipeweed, aren’t we Pip?”

“Aye Merry, that we are, that we are,” Pippin nodded on this point, in almost an imitation of Gandalf. Slightly less wise, but the spirit of all-knowing was there. Enough to make Boromir smile and laugh to himself, and make Merry laugh outright - immediately teasing his companion.

The lighter mood continued throughout the day with no further interruptions, except Boromir managing to spot another two patches of wild dagga. It was nice for Boromir to see the flower before them, because he could look down as he announced it. See right when their excitable grins appeared on their faces, and watch as they exchanged a glance then looked up at him, thanking him. Then run off to pester Aragorn about more of the stuff being found.

Eventually, they could see Aragorn and Frodo (for the marching order was prone to change throughout the day) stopping up ahead of them. Frodo setting his pack on the floor, and sitting down with some relief. Aragorn busy taking sticks from the surroundings and striking his tinderbox. Pippin didn’t even try to disguise the large smile that came upon his face, “Are we stopping for the night?”

“Yes, we are almost at Caradhras, I want us to be rested for it.”

“Sounds good to me,” Pippin said, looking at Merry, “Where d’you want to set up camp, Merry?”

“Probably near the fire,” Merry responded, briefly looking to Boromir for approval, which the man gave by nodding. He was, in some ways, touched that the hobbits thought highly enough of him to ask him questions. Even if it was only where to set up their bedrolls.

Looking around, Boromir shed the pack he was carrying and set it down beside his feet, also dropping the shield for the time being. His sword he kept on him at all times. Not just because he did not trust the wilderness of Middle Earth, but also because he didn’t trust Merry and Pippin. He’d let them use training swords, and then when he’d left his sword for a second to fetch a sharpening stone - he’d come back to find Merry holding it. That had given him much more of a fright than he was ever prepared to admit.

“So, Aragorn, how exactly is it you use this plant then?” Merry eventually spoke up, for it was Aragorn who still had all the plants. “I assume you still smoke it, like you do pipeweed?”

“Yes, I am just drying it out now,” Aragorn nodded to the fire, which had a number of smaller twigs over it - leaves and flowers skewered to them, and drying out. “It will not be a very sophisticated process, but we rangers have used it often enough.”

“The…” Merry struggled to find the word for a second, “The rangers smoke this often?” “When you are in the wilderness for months at a time, yes. Although sometimes pipeweed will grow in the wild, and we’ll use that instead.”

“Pipeweed grows in the wild?” Merry said indignantly, “We could’ve kept an eye out for that.”

“I have only ever seen it grow in the wilds near Gondor,” explained Aragorn, inclining his head slightly towards Boromir, “And even then, only near the city.”

“I still can’t believe you’d never thought to smoke it,” said Pippin, now also looking at Boromir.

“I imagine some would have,” admitted Boromir, “But the discovery of some new novelty to smoke was not exactly news one would share with your captain.”

“Why not?” Asked Pippin, rather sincerely.

Boromir simply shook his head and laughed a little, “Let me say… our worlds work very differently Pippin.”

“Suit yourself,” Pippin briefly smiled again, before turning to Aragorn again, “So, how long until we can use it?”

“About ten minutes or so. It still needs to dry out.”

“What needs to dry out?” Legolas had finally arrived, and was somewhat putting down his belongings, while simultaneously looking like he could run off now and be fine for the next couple of days. Actually, Boromir reflected, he probably could. Elves needed less sustenance, and Legolas’s bow and quiver were still on his back, so he could’ve made it. Boromir was fairly certain, however, that the elf would not suddenly abandon them.

“The wild dagga,” Merry answered, looking to Aragorn briefly for confirmation, “Me and Pippin have run out of longbottom leaf, so we’re going to try and smoke that instead.”

The elf wrinkled his nose slightly at that, “I have never understood smoking, surely it cannot taste nice?”

“It’s not really the taste,” Pippin tried to explain, “It’s the experience, the feeling. And it isn’t that bad!”

“Maybe not for hobbits,” conceded Legolas, “But for elves, the smell is most unpleasant.”

“Oh. Does us doing,” Merry gestured vaguely, pipe now in his hands, “It… does it bother you?”

“Not very, it is much more bearable in open air, besides,” Legolas glanced at Gandalf, “I have grown more used to it. A certain… visitor is rather fond of pipeweed.”

All of the hobbits laughed at that, with Merry observing almost out-loud, “And to think hobbits have been doing something longer than wizards. Although I daresay you’ll be better at it than us by now.”

There was a second as Gandalf deliberately avoided eye-contact, in a somewhat modest way, before breaking out in a smile and acknowledging it - sending a smoke ring that soon morphed into the shape of a star shooting around them.

“Well, we can do it best without using magic, ay Merry?” Said Pippin, nudging Merry conspicuously with a grin. “Aragorn, is the… whatever you called it ready?”

“Patience, Master Took,” was Aragorn’s immediate response, but he lent over the fire and then smiled, “But as luck would have it - they are. Do you wish to smoke them?”

“Do I wish to smoke them?” Echoed Merry, somewhat sarcastic - somewhat indignant. “Anything we need to know before we start?”

“It has always behaved like normal pipeweed for me,” answered Aragorn, “So I would say no.”

With the expertise of a knowledgeable smoker, Merry leaned over slightly to the now dried leaves - quickly getting out his pipe as well and busying himself by lighting it (and trying to take what he presumed to be the better leaf from Pippin).

“So, Pippin, Merry, is it good?” Asked Boromir after they’d let out a few smoke rings, still holding true to his thought that he would try some - if they deemed it appropriate.

Turning his whole head, even though Boromir was sitting almost directly next to him, Pippin looked up to the taller man, “Hmmm… I don’t know Merry, but I’d say so?”

There was a very thoughtful frown on Merry’s face, that suddenly split into a large grin, “Yes Pip. Without a doubt. Here Boromir, try mine.”

Merry smiled again, then held out the pipe to someone who was decidedly not Boromir - but instead Legolas. There was a second as the elf sat there, waiting for the hobbit to correct his mistake, before Legolas politely coughed, eyes gazing instead to where Boromir was sitting.

“Boromir!” Merry exclaimed suddenly, almost throwing down the pipe and (finally) held it in the direction of the man he intended, “You looked so pretty as a blond…”

There was now a forlorn tone in Merry’s voice, and his eyes became ever so slightly glassy - although Boromir was fairly certain this wasn’t because of Boromir not, in fact, being blond.

“I… I have never been blond Merry,” he gently corrected, frowning at the hobbit’s state of mind.

“No, you were just then!” It was remarkable how determined Merry could be, “When you were pretending to be Legolas. You’re a beautiful blond Boromir.”

Pippin gave a non-committal, although positive hum, nodding along to all of Merry’s words sagely, an image that was slightly ruined by the fact he was staring simply at the sky. Pippin then looked down slightly, at Boromir again, and opened his mouth - to say nothing for a few seconds, before hazily mumbling “D’you agree?”

“Agree? With what?” There was a gentleness in Boromir’s voice, as well as poorly disguised concern, “Tell me again.”

“So,” Pippin began, “It’s essentially just…”

There was a second as he trailed off again, instead just staring at the ground, “That… probably sums it up. I’m sorry, is that still confusing?”

“No, not at all,” Boromir was probably over-enunciating his words now, unsure if the hobbits could register them, “You should probably put down the pipes now, and go to sleep.”

“How’re we suppose to go to Mordor if we sleep?” Questioned Merry, although he almost rolled off the log - now lying on the floor, “Didn’t think of that - did you Boromir?”

Pippin snickered slightly, “Merry, you’re sleeping on the floor.”

“Am I?”

“Yes. You shouldn’t be sleeping on the floor - very bad for your spine.”

“Is it really?” Merry asked genuinely, looking up for someone again, “An… adult, who isn’t me, is this true?”

“You do need to sleep on a bedroll, Merry,” Boromir explained, guiding the hobbit up and getting his pack out for him (stubbornly ignoring the fact Merry was now simply lying on his feet). “Here, lie on this.”

“You’re so nice Boromir,” Merry said, sitting down onto the bedroll,

“Merry look. We’re not sleeping on the ground now, are we?”

“I’m not Merry. You’re Merry.”

“No, I’m Meriadoc. I don’t do nicknames Pip.”

“You just did.”

“No, your name’s just Pip. We didn’t tell you, thought it’d make you sad.”

“That’s not true!” Pippin exclaimed, with almost genuine (although certainly high-infused) uncertainty.

“Yes it is, isn’t it…” Merry looked around, eyes falling on Boromir again, “It’s true isn't it Boromir. You’ll know.” He turned to Pippin again, “Boromir’s very knowledgeable about your name.”

Shaking his head, Boromir decided to try and ignore the conversation, instead turning, with a growing mixture of concern and anger, to Aragorn, “Aragorn, what did you give them?”

“Wild dagga - my friend,” was the honest response, not helped by the fact it sounded like the ranger was trying not to laugh, “I had no idea it would affect the hobbits like this - I thought they would react to it like pipeweed!”

“And yet they are,” Boromir looked again at the hobbits, who had sat up and were talking in very hushed voices, “Frodo, this is not normal, is it?”

“No,” Frodo answered, still looking at Pippin, “Although they’ve behaved like this before - but usually after having a lot more pipeweed - or drinking more than they should.”

“It will probably be over by morning, Boromir sir,” spoke up Sam, looking in concern at the two younger hobbits. “I can watch over them, maybe make them something.”

“I will watch over them Sam, do not worry,” something in Boromir made him reluctant to go to sleep, especially when Merry and Pippin were vulnerable, but he smiled tightly, “Although they would probably benefit from something to eat.”

“Of course” for a while there was busying around the camp as people dug through their packs, contributing various things to make a stew out of. Boromir would have helped more, but he did have his work cut out for him. While being affected - the hobbits seemed to have developed a fascination with fire, along with a startling lack of self-preservation.

Boromir would have possibly cut more firewood, or stoked it when it was down - but trying to hold Pippin down while still being gentle (so he could not pick up one of the flaming logs) was a task that required more attention, and was probably more important.

“Merry, Pippin, let us sit over there,” Boromir glanced left into the clearing, “It will be better for your…”

“Eyes?” Suggested Merry, still smiling slightly and getting up, “C’mon Pip. We’re not going to Mordor anymore, we’re going over there.”

“My name isn’t Pip. It’s Peregrin,” Pippin protested, although both of them followed Boromir over. There was at least one issue solved - the hobbits could no longer launch themselves directly in the fire.

“Do you have a second name, Boromir?” For some reason, Merry had phrased it as more of a statement than a question, but he answered anyway.

“Of course I do-”

“What is it?”

“I think you look like a… Varno,” decided Pippin, after several long seconds of looking into Boromir’s eyes.

“Oh yes - I can see that!” Chimed in Merry, “That is your name, isn’t it Boromir?”

“No, it is not,” said Boromir, with all the patience that he could muster at the time.

“Well it should be!” The statement was said with such clarity, that for a second Boromir seriously considered its merits - before shaking his head and sighing.

“Boromir, your food,” it was Aragorn - standing next to him with three wooden bowls of stew, a soft smile on his face as he looked at the hobbits. “Will you be eating with us?”

“I am afraid they will still try to launch themselves into the fire,” Boromir admitted, casting a glance backwards. The two of them had begun laughing now, a high and carefree one - one that seemed infectious. “We will eat over here.”

“You are sure, my friend?”

“Yes it will be…” There was another glance backwards, “I am sure it will be fine.”

“We’re very responsible Strider, sir” added Pippin, who frowned as Merry suddenly began to laugh.

“Merry - I am.”

“No you’re not - neither of us are!”

“Oh,” the thought struck Pippin, and suddenly he laughed a little as well, “No - we aren’t.”

The rest of the night was just as chaotic - but in most ways Boromir did not mind. There was something nice about the two hobbits like these - even if it was just because of how much they smiled, or how much more affectionate they were. And if Pippin had insisted on a story to go to sleep, well that was his business - and Boromir was sure Pippin wouldn’t remember Boromir telling him one anyway.

#pippin took #meriadoc brandybuck #boromir #lotr #lotr fanfic #tolkiengenweek

[planethobbit]

LOTR themed tag game! Reblog with your own answers and tag three or more people you want to get to know better!

--

thank you @anythingbyadriannelenker for tagging me!!!

How old were you when you read/watched LOTR for the first time? I fr only started reading the books last year after first watching the films and I still haven't finished them 💔 I read The Hobbit in 7th grade though. It's where I first encountered the world 'paraphernalia'.

Favorite LOTR character? Choosing one seems impossible so Sam/Pippin/Arwen (all the hobbits tbh like I kind of moderately zone out when they're not on screen oops)

Books or movies? Both have their strengths! I prefer the book version of several characters (Legolas, Merry, etc) but the films have this essence to them that hasn't quite been replicated in the 20+ years since and that's quite a feat imo.

Favorite movie? Tempted to say Fellowship solely bc it's the only time we see the hobbits fully happy and un-traumatized lmao, but Two Towers is always so overlooked so I'd say that's my true favorite.

Which location in Middle Earth would you most like to visit? Visit and live are two different questions sooo Lothlorien <3

Favorite scene? It's a solid tie between Pippin's song, Sam's speech at the end of TT, and Eowyn killing the Witch King<3 (OH AND THE DELETED WOOD ELVES SCENE 💕💗💕💞💕 SO BITTERSWEET)

Favorite quote? Another tie between three lol

"Don't go where I can't follow."

"If you want him, COME AND CLAIM HIM"

"I haven't been dropping no eaves sir, honest!"

What Middle Earth race would you want to be?Hobbit. Read the bio people.

Favorite ship if you have one? I truly only gaf about Samfro come on now.

This was so fun hehe so glad to share this vital information. I tag @ancientbread @gonzocoded and literally anyone who wants to do it<333

#lotr #tag game #mads speaks

[sugarpixie]

Anonymous said: Hypothetically, let's say someone had the unenviable logistical challenge of catering a party at which both a sports elf and a sugar pixie would be present. Is there anything that could go on the menu that both guests could eat without poisoning one or both of them?

sugarpixie:

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・

{✿} – Pippin beamed, only too enthusiastic to contribute some applicable insight. ❝Sure, there is! Fruits are not at all dangerous for sports elves or sugar pixies to eat! Fruit contains what’s known as ‘natural sugar’ and is digested in a different way to ‘refined sugar’, which is the kind we find in candy and ice cream and all that super yummy stuff! ‘Course, this just means that us sugar pixies have to eat a lot more fruit than the sports elves to actually get our fill, but that’s okay! Not all of us branch out into towns and cities when they grow up like I did. A lotta sugar pixies still live in the forests and woodlands where the fruits that naturally grow there are a popular staple to their diet! My favourite “sports candy” is strawberries, with lots of cream - but shhh, you can’t tell Sportacus I said that!❞ Pippin covered his mouth to repress his sportive giggles, hoping the hero wasn’t anywhere near to hear him disclose this creamy little secret. ❝Why? Are you having a party?!❞ The light reflected within the sugar pixie’s eyes shimmered enthusiastically at the very thought. After all, what could be more fun than a party? Usually, he was the life & soul of any LazyTown gathering, making him a popular favourite for guest lists anywhere from the town hall all the way to the theatre at the opposite end of town. In LazyTown, Pippin felt like he truly belonged, perhaps more so than anywhere else he had been before. He felt so lucky to have found this very special place and all his friends that lived there. This truly was the perfect town!

#{Verse: Default LazyTown} #{Anon} #{OOC: If you get the subtle reference ily <3}

[mirkwoodshewolf]

IATCOD Chap. 5; Reunions in Rivendell

*Author’s note*

Alright guys like I mentioned before in the last chapter, you guys are not officially all caught up on what I’ve written so far in the sequel of my Celestial oc tolkien story. I’ll try to get chap.6 up asap after I do some requests as well as get started on my future Eddie Munson fic WOOT WOOT (really looking forward to that one). 

Some really sweet moments will be read in this part b/t Hela and Bilbo (since they have such a sweet friendship with one another both in here and from what I wrote in the first book). Hope you all enjoyed this sequel binge reading and until next time!!

NEXT CHAPTER

Taglist:

@plethora-of-things​

@waddles03​

@psychosupernatural​

@ixchel-9275​

@queensdivas​

@queen-paladin​

@byersboys​

@jd-johndeacon-or-jackdaniels​

____________________________________________________________

A lot was calmer in the remaining week that followed. Arwen arrived with Aragorn and the three remaining Hobbits, and the first thing that Sam had asked Elrond and myself was where Frodo was and how he was doing.

Lord Elrond told him that Frodo was going to be alright and all he needed was some rest.  And from the time he arrived, Sam hardly ever left Frodo’s bedside (the only time he left were to eat and sleep).  In that time I gave a little tour to Merry and Pippin who were in pure awe at the beauty that was Rivendell (and at the Autumn too, as I said before I thought Rivendell had a more heavenly glow during the Autumn season).

It was also where we were reunited with none other than Bilbo Baggins.

“Merry is that…”

“All be a…it’s Mr. Bilbo.” Merry said.

“But what’s he doing all the way here with the Elves?” asked Pippin.

“Bilbo felt like he needed some peace and quiet away from the Shire. So Lord Elrond had given Bilbo permission to come to Rivendell and stay here anytime he wanted.” I explained.

“Do you think we can go speak to him?” asked Merry.

“I think it’d be wise to just leave him be for now. Besides, I think if I recall from my visit to the kitchens, the cooks are preparing a very special meal for you all and….”

“Special meal!?” the cousins chorused out.

“Pardon us Hela but we uhh—we gotta go.” Merry said.

“Yes, yes we uhh—have very important business to attend to. That’s not here. So umm….we best be going.” Pippin added.  Soon Merry and Pippin ran off towards the kitchen halls. I shook my head laughing softly.

“A hobbit’s one true love.” I then walked over towards the garden where Bilbo was sitting at with his famous book in hand.  I walked up to a column and gently knocked on it. He turned towards me and a soft smile spread across his face.

“Hela my dear friend.” He greeted me.

“Hope I’m not interrupting anything.”

“Not at all, come sit down. I needed a bit of a break anyways. These old hands aren’t what they used to be, especially nowadays.” In the span of the 17 years since I last saw him, without the Ring in his possession Bilbo now appeared older.

His dusting greyish hair had now gone pure white, his wrinkles deepened and more profound but there was a sense of relief that had been lifted off his shoulders, and his eyes had that same twinkle they did when I first met him.

“How is Frodo doing? I’ve been asking around but the Elves have not told me anything.” He asked me.

“Frodo’s going to be alright. He’s now resting and recovering his strength.” I assured him with a gentle pat on his wrinkly hand.  Bilbo sighed heavily and I saw there was a sad look in his eye.

“If only I had known what it was I had found in that cave. If only I had known what it truly was, I’d never would’ve gifted it to Frodo. He nearly died because of it.” He said as he stood up and slowly paced around in front of me.

“I know it’s easy to blame yourself Bilbo. Believe me I’ve been there. But there’s no sense on changing what has already happened. Be thankful that it was you and not someone far worse. Any of the goblins or even the goblin King himself could’ve found it. Or Azog. Bolg. But it was you and you alone. And that alone gives me comfort.”

“But at the expense of Frodo’s life? Of—of yours?” Bilbo trailed off looking at me briefly before turning away.  I tilted my head at him and walked over to him and knelt down in front of him.

“What do you mean at the expense of my life Bilbo?” the glimmer of tears in his eyes as he tried to not look me in the eye.  

“I must ask this of you Hela and please don’t try to lie to make an old Hobbit feel good. But I must know—when……when we left you behind at Laketown, the reason why you got so sick. Was it my fault? Did me having the Dark Lord’s ring make you that ill?”

“Oh Bilbo……have you held onto that thought ever since that day?”

“At first I thought nothing of it. But when Gandalf and Balin last visited me, and Gandalf told us the reason for your sickness, I….I began to ponder on just how it was possible. When I came here and was told of my ring being the One Ring it all became clear to me.” A tear slid down his face. I wiped it away.

“Bilbo. Bilbo Baggins look at me.” His lip trembled and like before throughout the quest, his nose made that adorable little twitch before he finally worked the courage to look me in the eye.  “What happened back in Mirkwood was something else entirely. It was Sauron himself that tried to possess my body, not because of the Ring. I want you to understand what happened to me that day was not your fault, nor is it your fault that Frodo got hurt. The Ring—has a will of its own and it will do anything to get back to its Master.”

I cupped the side of Bilbo’s face as I gingerly stroked his cheek with my thumb.

“As I said, I’m grateful that it was not a race of evil that found the Ring all those years ago. And for so long you fought against it’s evil. Never before have I seen that happen.”

“But my actions before I left…..”

“Manipulation caused by the Ring. It took it’s time to try and corrupt your heart. But even then you’ve been resisting it, up until that night. But I hold no grudge nor resentment for what you said. You needed help before it was too late, and you passed the test. A test that no one could ever pass before.” I said as I continued to stroke his cheek.  He came closer to me and embraced me as tightly as his old strength could muster.

“You truly have grown wiser in your years Hela.”

“I had a great teacher to help me realize that there is always Hope in every dark cloud.” I thought back to Cain and his teachings. I hugged my dear little friend back and kissed the top of his head as I gently rocked him back and forth.

After awhile we went back to the bench where he book sat and I asked him.

“Do you think now is a good time for me to finally read the illustrious book you’ve been so hellbent on writing?” I asked him.

“As sticky and nosy as Frodo is at times.” He chastised me playfully.  “But—yes. In fact you’ll be the first to read it.” He handed me the red-leather bound book and I opened it up and read out loud.

“‘There and Back Again: A Hobbit’s tale by Bilbo Baggins.’” I opened it up and began to read through the entire book.  The words of our quest to Erebor and its history ran through my mind like a moving picture, the pictures and maps he drew pulled me into the world.  “Oh Bilbo this is beautiful.”

“I meant to go back you know. Wander the palace of Mirkwood, visit Laketown. See the Lonely Mountain again. But age it seems has finally caught up with me.” He said with a slight groan at the end.

“Oh you’d love it Bilbo. Laketown especially. Bain and Sigrid saw to it themselves that it was returned to its former glory in the golden days so long ago. And it was Sigrid and her husband that formed a new type of Government so that there would never again be a greedy Master. I believe they call it—a democracy. Where the people decide who is fit to run the city. And they do annual elections every five years.”

“Incredible. And what of Erebor. Have you ever returned to the Lonely Mountain since you left it?”

“A few times after my 20 year training and healing with my teacher. I would mostly go there during Durin’s Day, got to see our old friends of the Company. Wish I’d visited more but—the duty of a Celestial and all.”

“I do hope that one day when all of this is over, you’ll finally be happy. Perhaps settle down with a man. You never did say if you had a special someone to go back to.” I turned away and rubbed my naked left wrist.

Nope, still not there Hela. Remember you gave it back to him. But there’s not a day I don’t regret doing so.

“It uhh—it didn’t work out between us.”

“Didn’t work out, or not the proper time?” I looked at the cheeky little Hobbit.

“Whose getting nosy now Master Baggins?” I teased him with a nudge and leaned my forehead on top of his.  He softly chuckled and said.

“I may be old but I’ve seen a great deal of love stories in the Shire. And there’s more to your love story than what you’re admitting. But I will not press you for the details. But if you do ever come across this fellow of yours again, talk to him. Tell him the real reason why it couldn’t work out rather than the excuse you probably gave to him. And if he takes you back, you’ll know your love is true.”

“And if I do tell him the truth, if he does not accept me back? Or cannot afford to love me again? What would you have me do then?”

“Then he’d be a fool of a man to not accept you back. My years of knowing you, you have been nothing but kind, brave, loyal, and always had a reason for doing the things you did. I’ve grown fond of you Hela and I’d hate to see you go through life without finding the love you said you once shared with this special someone.” I cupped Bilbo’s face in my hand and whispered to him.

“Thank you for the kind words Bilbo. I wish you could’ve found that special someone to share in your adventures.”

“I knew I was never a Hobbit to find love. I fell in love with the adventure I had. With the Company, Gandalf, and you.” We smiled at one another and I continued to read through his book until the sun began to set and the moon rose over Rivendell.

The next day on the 23rd of October, Gandalf soon arrived to Imladris.  But when I saw him, his face was stained with dirt and blood (much like when he arrived to Dale) and a look of fear was upon his face.

“Gandalf!” I called out to him.  I raced down the steps and he turned to me as we both embraced one another.  “What’s happened to you? Did orcs capture you again? Or Sauron?”

“I will explain everything later Hela, where is Frodo?”

“He—he was injured Gandalf. Stabbed by the Witch-king Angmar himself.” A look of shock and despair came across his face as he stepped back from me.

“A Morgul blade.” He replied grimly.

“But he’s alright. I brought him here and Lord Elrond and I saw to it that he would be spared from the Darkness. He’s on the mend now.” He sighed with relief.

“The speed of the Sound Celestials is a blessing from above. Thank you Hela.” He said patting my shoulder.  “But now I must speak with you and Lord Elrond. There is even grimmer news that must be shared with you.”

“Last I saw Lord Elrond he was in his studies with his two sons.”

“Great follow me. This news cannot be delayed any longer.” He said ominously as we headed towards the studies.

When we arrived, just as I said Lord Elrond was speaking with his twin sons Elladan and Elrohir.

“Mithrandir!” the boys chorused together.

“Elladan, Elrohir.” Gandalf bowed in respect as the boys greeted him back.  “Lord Elrond. I must call a secret White Council meeting.” Elrond’s brow slightly furrowed as he said to his sons.

“Leave us my sons. The Lady Celestial, Mithrandir and I must talk in private.”

“Yes father.” The boys said before leaving us alone.

“Gandalf, to suddenly call a White Council meeting this late is most irregular.”

“It must just be between us three. For you two are unaware of the treachery that now lies in Middle Earth.”

“What are you talking about?” I asked.

“Saruman the White has joined forced with the Dark Lord Sauron.” Lord Elrond and I both looked at Gandalf in horror and shock.

No. This—this cannot be.  A Wizard turned to evil? Wh-why would Saruman agree to join forced with Sauron? What would he have to gain in siding with him?  He was already the greatest of the Istari, one of the head seats of the White Council, and took base at Isengard.  What more could Saruman want?

“Gandalf, are you absolutely sure?” Lord Elrond asked him firmly.

“He told me so himself.” Elrond walked a short foot away from Gandalf and myself pondering this ill news.

“All these years and he could’ve been spilling secrets of us, of our plans to move against Sauron when he revealed himself 77 years ago.” I spoke my worries.  “Saruman would know it all. What would he have to gain in return by siding with that monster?”

“Not for power or greed, he feared that the Dark Lord’s strength is too great even for us. And in order to be spared from it, we have no choice but to follow him.” Gandalf said to me.  I walked over to him and placed my hand over his bleeding temple and healed it up, he patted my wrist and gave me a warm smile.  “We’ll discuss this matter later, for now I wish to see Frodo.”

“Gandalf.” Lord Elrond tried to speak up.

“I allowed Frodo to carry this burden, I must see to him when he awakes. Hela, come with me.” As Gandalf walked away, Elrond and I looked at each other.

“When Frodo awakes, I’ll send him straight to you.”

“Hela.” He reprimanded me.  “If it is true of Saruman’s betrayal, this issue cannot wait. With the Ring here, Sauron’s eye will soon be fixed on Rivendell.”

“I know. I’m sorry Lord Elrond, but Gandalf needs to know Frodo will awake. You know how much of a kind heart he has, especially towards the Hobbits.”

“Like another person I know.” He said eyeing me.  I gave him a slight smile.

“I promise, as soon as Frodo is awake and on his feet, we’ll discuss this matter further on.” I left the study and headed towards the healing wings where Gandalf was just about to start smoking his pipe and once again right at his bedside was Samwise Gamgee.  “Have you at least gotten something to eat Sam?” I asked him.

“I had me some eggs and potatoes.” He said bluntly before turning his attention back to Frodo.  But at that moment we heard his stomach growl.

“A meal such as that wouldn’t cause your stomach to growl like a starving wolf.” I reprimanded him softly.

“Ever since leaving Bree my food schedule’s been all jumbled up. My stomach is still on my old feeding schedule.” I crossed my arms over my chest and raised my brow at him.  “Alright so I haven’t ate anything since this morning. But how can I eat when Mr. Frodo hasn’t awaken yet?”

“We understand your worry for Frodo, Sam. But the wound he took is more than getting a splinter or falling from a tree. The weapon was of pure evil and darkness.” Gandalf said to him.

“That’s what Strider said, and that only Elvish medicine could help him. Never have I felt or seen Frodo in that shape or manner before.” I walked over to Sam and placed my hands onto his shoulders.

“He’s strong. Much like Bilbo. But take comfort that he was able to be spared from the poison running through his veins.”

“Wouldn’t have happened without you Miss Hela.” He said looking up at me.

“I love Frodo as much as you, Merry and Pippin do. Seeing him like that—I knew I couldn’t stay in the form I was in.”

“The form you were—the hawk. That was you wasn’t it?” I nodded.  “But why were you—”

“A good question for another time. For now, it would be best for you to actually find you something to eat. It is almost luncheon time for you Hobbits anyways. Hela and I will keep watch over Frodo until you return.”

“Yes Mr. Gandalf. And….you’ll send word if he wakes, right?”

“Of course Sam dear. Go, run along now.” I gently nudged him and he walked out of the room, keeping his eye on Frodo until the last second. I softly chuckled and shook my head. “The loyalty he has over our dear Frodo.”

“Indeed. Even at a young age wherever Frodo went, Sam was right there at his side.” I sat down where Sam was just at and stroked Frodo’s dark curls.

“We’re all waiting for you Frodo. We’re all right here.” I whispered to his very soul that was still in the veil of the inbetween.

The next day at 10 o’clock Gandalf and I were right by Frodo’s bedside once more (ever since the sun rose) and finally the miracle we’ve all been waiting for.

“Where am I?” Frodo quietly moaned out after briefly tossing and turning his head.

“You are in the house of Elrond. And it is 10 o’clock in the morning, on October the 24th if you want to know.” Gandalf said. Frodo opened his eyes and said both our names.

“Gandalf. Hela.”

“Yes Frodo dear, we’re here.” I said with a soft smile and stroked his cheek softly.

“And you’re lucky to be here too. A few more hours and you would have been beyond our aid. But you have some strength in you, my dear Hobbit.” Gandalf said as he smoked his pipe.  Frodo sat up but his face grimaced at the wound on his shoulder.

Unfortunately a wound such as that will never fully heal. I’m told that long ago shortly before I was born, one of my sisters on Thena’s side suffered a wound just like Frodo and though she was able to be spared, she never fully recovered.  And for that she could only find solace in the shores of Valinor, so she sailed West to the Undying Lands to be with the Elves, one of the first few Celestials ever welcomed to their shores.

I tried to help Frodo feel as comfortable as possible and he gave me a slight nod before turning to Gandalf and asked.

“What happened Gandalf? Why didn’t you meet us?”

“Oh I am sorry Frodo.” Gandalf said solemnly.  “I was delayed. A friendship with Saruman is not lightly thrown aside.” Frodo turned towards me and I gave him a solemn look.  He turned back to Gandalf who seemed to be lost in his thoughts about Saruman’s betrayal.

Sure it came as a shock to both Elrond and I but I cannot imagine what is going through Gandalf’s mind.  After all the Istari were formed together by strength and magic together. To take a vow amongst themselves to protect and preserve goodness and peace (much like my kin).  And to be betrayed by one of their own—I can only imagine the heartbreak, and sorrow that is in Gandalf’s heart right now.

“Gandalf? What is it?” Gandalf came out of his thoughts and assured Frodo.

“Nothing Frodo.” All was quiet until a voice spoke up from the door.

“Frodo.” The sound of feet running toward us and soon joining me was Sam.  “Frodo!” he exclaimed.

“Sam.” Frodo said happily.

“Bless you you’re awake!” Sam exclaimed joyously.

“Sam here has hardly left your side.” I said wrapped an arm around Sam’s shoulders.

“We were that worried about you, weren’t we Mr. Gandalf? Miss Hela?”

“Indeed we were.” I said.

“By the skill of both Hela and Lord Elrond, you’re beginning to mend.” Gandalf said.  And it was at that moment, the Lord of Rivendell came forth and bid a warm welcome to Frodo.

“Welcome to Rivendell, Frodo Baggins.”

“Thank you, my lord Elrond.” Frodo thanked him with a bow of his head.

“If I may ask everyone to clear the room for a moment, I’d like to have a moment alone with Mr. Baggins to check his wound.” Sam was about to protest but I gave him a gentle squeeze of his shoulder.

“We’ll leave you to it my Lord Elrond.” I guided Sam away and Gandalf followed behind us.

“Is he going to be alright?” Sam asked me.

“Lord Elrond is one of the most skilled healers I’ve ever known. Taught not only by the elven lord Gil-Galad but also from the Celestial Prime herself. Frodo is in the best of care Sam, trust me.”

“I do Miss Hela. I just…..” he sighed deeply.

“I know Sam, I know.” I assured him with a hug.

As the day went on, Frodo was back on his feet and was reunited with Merry, Pippin and also with Bilbo so I had been told by Cain. Elrond, Gandalf and I were watching over Frodo and Sam from the hallway near the library.

“His strength returns.” Elrond said.

“That wound will never fully heal. He will carry it the rest of his life.” Gandalf said.

“And yet to have come so far still bearing the Ring the Hobbit has shown extraordinary resilience to its evil.” Elrond said as he walked away from us.

“It is a burden he should never have had to bear. Neither one of them.” I said.  “We can ask no more of Frodo.” I softly pleaded with Elrond.

“Hela, the enemy is moving. Sauron’s forces are massing in the East. His Eye is fixed on Rivendell. And Saruman you say Gandalf has betrayed us. Our list of allies grows thin.” Elrond lectured me.

“His treachery runs deeper than you know. By foul craft, Saruman has crossed Orcs with Goblin-men he’s breeding an army at the caverns of Isengard.” Gandalf explained to us.  My eyes widened as Gandalf continued to explain, “An army that can move in sunlight and cover great distance at speed. Saruman is coming for the Ring. And unfortunately for you as well Hela.”

“I knew this day would come.” I sighed grimly.

“This evil cannot be concealed by the power of the Elves. We do not have the strength to fight off both Mordor and Isengard!” Elrond softly hissed.  As Gandalf turned his back to us Elrond continued, “Gandalf, the Ring cannot stay here.”

“So what is to be done?” I asked.

“This peril belongs to all Middle-earth. They must decide now how to end it.” Elrond said to me.  “The time of the Elves is over. My people are leaving these shores. Who will you look to when we’ve gone? The Dwarves? They hide in their mountains seeking riches, they care nothing for the troubles of others.”

“And though I have grown stronger and wiser I am still only one Celestial. I alone cannot be the one to govern Middle-Earth, I’m just it’s protector and guide.” I explained.

“I know Hela, and I wouldn’t dare ask such a burden onto you. You’ve done far too much, even more than what we deserve.” Gandalf said placing a comforting hand on my shoulder.  He then turned to Lord Elrond and said, “It is in Men that we must place our hope in.”

“Men?” Lord Elrond asked incredulously.  “Men are weak. The race of Men is failing.” Gandalf and I followed behind Elrond as we entered the library as he continued, “The blood of Númenor is all but spent, it’s pride and dignity forgotten. It is because of Men the Ring survives. I was there, Gandalf and Hela. I was there 3000 years ago…. When Isildur took the Ring, I was there the day the strength of Men failed. I led Isildur into the heart of Mount Doom…where the Ring was forged, the one place it could be destroyed.”

But as I know the hearts of Men are easily corrupted. Shortly after Isildur kept the Ring, I tried to reason with him but he would not listen and nearly had me killed (he had thought I wanted the Ring for myself when I wanted no part of such evil).

“It should have ended that day, but evil was allowed to endure.” Elrond turned to us and continued, “Isildur kept the Ring. The line of Kings is broken. There’s no strength left in the world of Men. They’re scattered, divided, leaderless.”

“There is one who could unite them.” Gandalf said.  “One who could reclaim the throne of Gondor.” At his response Elrond’s face grew grim as he merely responded.

“He turned from the path a long time ago. He has chosen exile.”

“He may have chosen exile, but the time will come when he’ll have to lay claim to his birthright.” I said.

“You believe that Hela?” Elrond asked me.

“It came to an old friend of mine a long time ago, and now his descendants will continue to rule over Dale. Whether he wants it or not, Aragorn shall become King, when this is all over.”

“I’ve seen how you have put your faith into the World of Men more so than any race of Middle Earth Hela. For your sake, I hope you are right.”

#lotr #lotr imagine #lotr imagines #lotr fanfic #lotr fanfiction #lord of the rings #lord of the rings fanfiction #lord of the rings imagines #lord of the rings fandom #lord of the rings fanfic #lord of the rings imagine #haldir #haldir of lorien #haldir x oc #haldir x reader #haldir imagine #haldir imagines #haldir fanfic #haldir fanfiction #aragorn x oc #aragorn x reader #aragorn #aragorn imagine #aragorn imagines #legolas greenleaf #legolas greenleaf x oc #legolas greenleaf x reader #gimli son of gloin #frodo baggins #samwise gamgee

[dovebuffy92]

My Thoughts on the First Two Episodes of The Lord of the Rings:

Sharing my views here because most of the posts are pretty negative.

Okay here is what I have to say about Lord of the Rings: The Rings of Power Season 1 Episode 1 - 2. I loved the first two episodes.The series is truly cinematic and I wish I could see all the episodes in IMAX. The first two episodes start with a bang full of a lot of drama and action. Galadriel is truly bad ass and a central character, but there are a lot of different main characters that we follow who are peppered throughout Middle-earth. I feel like they are all already pretty complex characters. Most of them are elves, one/two are proto-hobbits, and two are human. A lot more female main characters.The series contains some archetypes that you will recognize from the movies outside of the fact that some of the characters are the younger selves of characters from the LoTR movies. There is a doomed romance between a Elve & human (though no royalty this time), a friendship like Pippin & Merry, a proto-hobbit who wants adventure unlike her kind who stay away from the ways of the world, a cursed object drawing evil, and finally a quest that all the main characters will eventually be drawn into (Galadriel whose the main hero of the story is already on the quest). That is all I kind say without spoiling anything.

#lord of the rings #rings of power #lord of the rings rings of power #my thoughts

[bisexualbumblebee-writes]

To Love a Ranger Chapter 9- Aragorn x OC

Aragorn x Issa

Description: After docking at the forest edge of the Anduin the Fellowship is ambushed by a legion of Uruk-hai and Orcs, ending in another devastating loss.

Word Count: 2.8k

“Hannon le (Thank you),” Issa muttered politely as a Lorien guard finished clasping a green cape around her with an Elven brooch. The guard merely bowed to her before stepping away as Lady Galadriel began going down the line of the Fellowship, giving a gift to each of them. 

Boromir was given a new sword, Merry and Pippin received appropriately sized swords as well. Legolas was given the Galadhrim bow and for Sam, Elven rope. Next was Gimli, who was given three strands of Galadriel’s hair. Then came Frodo; he got the Phial of Galadriel, and Aragorn received a sheath for his sword, Andúril (his sword). Finally, she arrived in front of Issa with a small smile. 

“And for you, Issa Goodwin, I present to you these two gifts,” she held up a sheathed sword, which Issa gingerly took. “This is Ringil, a sword forged for Fingolfin, the first High King of the Noldor. It served him well in life, it should serve you well now.” The girl couldn’t help but gape at her, then she carefully unsheathed the sword from its leather holder. She stared at it in wonder as it glittered like ice under the still rising sun, then looked at Galadriel again. 

“M…My Lady, this is a most generous gift. I cannot thank you enough,” she attempted not to stutter, but she just couldn’t help herself. In her hands was the sword of a high King of old. She almost felt unworthy to even look at it. Nevertheless she strapped it to herself then faced Galadriel with a wide and grateful smile. 

“For your second gift, I offer you this,” the Lady of Elves continued, gesturing to an Elf guard, who stepped forward holding a silver box. Galadriel opened it and retrieved something from it. Upon her holding it out, Issa realized that it was an intricately carved silver whistle at the end of a dainty but long silver chain. She stared at it curiously, then looked at the Elf. 

“Forgive me if I sound impolite or ungrateful, but a whistle, ma’am?” She questioned, not even attempting to hide her confusion. Galadriel smiled once more, this time a more patient smile as she nodded. 

“I’m afraid I don’t know what I’d need it for,” Issa added, sounding quite embarrassed about it. 

“All in due time, dear Issa,” the Elf responded simply. “You will know the right time to use it.” The girl was still confused, but she knew that was possibly the only answer she would get from them, so she just nodded. 

“Thank you,” she muttered earnestly, bowing her head a bit. 

“Use it wisely, and you will find that it may be more useful than you think,” Galadriel concluded. Her vagueness only served to puzzle Issa further, but she said nothing and allowed the guards to lead them down to the boats that they would ride down the Anduin river, where they would ultimately leave Lothlórien. 

They spent the day traveling the river southward in the three Elven boats Celeborn and Galadriel had kindly given them. Once it began to grow dark the Fellowship decided to dock on the bank and set up camp for the evening. After helping set up the campfire and even aiding in cooking dinner, Issa stood, ready to stretch her legs. 

That’s when she noticed Boromir hiding behind a rock watching the river. As she made her way over to him she followed his gaze to a log that floated down the river. Just faintly she could see a hand grasp it and pull itself onto it. Whatever it was, it definitely seemed like it was trying to remain hidden from their sight. 

“It is Gollum,” she heard from behind both her and Boromir, making them both turn to face him. “He has tracked us since Moria.” Issa wasn’t truly surprised to hear that. She knew that they were being followed, she supposed it was like a sixth sense after growing up around Elves. She just hadn’t realized that it was him that was doing it. 

“I would have thought we would lose him on the river,” she muttered as she watched the log run into a rock on the other side of the river before stopping. She noticed Aragorn shake his head as he moved to stand beside her. 

“He’s too clever a waterman.”

“And if he alerts the enemy to our whereabouts, it will make the crossing even more dangerous,” Boromir muttered before facing Aragorn. “Minas Tirith is the safer road. You know that. From there we can regroup. Strike out for Mordor from a place of strength.” 

“There is no strength in Gondor that can avail us,” Aragorn responded simply. 

“You were quick enough to trust the Elves,” the Man retorted defensively, growing desperate in his words when Aragorn just listened impatiently rather than responding. “Have you so little faith in your own people? Yes, there is weakness. There is frailty. But there is courage also, and honor to be found in Men. But you will not see that.” 

Once again the Man did not answer. He turned away from Boromir, but stopped when Boromir grabbed his tunic, turning him to face him. Issa was quick to grab his wrist and force him to unhand the tunic without thinking. She wasn’t overly fond of people touching her fiancé in such a way. 

“You are afraid,” Boromir exclaimed quietly, paying no mind to the girl’s actions. “All your life, you have hidden in the shadows. Scared of who you are, of what you are!” It seemed that Aragorn wasn’t going to answer her again as he readjusted his tunic and turned away. He quickly turned back to Boromir though. 

“I will not lead the Ring within a hundred leagues of your city,” was all he said before turning away once again. 

“Aragorn,” Issa sighed, attempting to grab his arm to stop him from walking away, though to no avail. He merely shook her hand off and proceeded to take a seat beside Legolas, who was keeping watch on the forest behind him. She then looked at Boromir, who merely scoffed at Aragorn before walking away from her to sit beside the river bank where the boats were. 

While she agreed that taking the Ring to Minas Tirith was not the best idea, the way that Aragorn and Boromir were going about it was terrible at best (and disastrous at worst). Just like Galadriel had said the night they entered Lothlórien, their quest stood upon the edge of a knife. If they strayed even a little and it will fail, to the ruin of all. They were not going to get far if Aragorn and Boromir continued to disagree on such trivial matters like these. There needed to be a compromise or else the Fellowship would fall to ruin. 

The very next morning they were back in the water continuing south. Issa could practically feel Boromir’s scathing look on Aragorn as he paddled his boat even though she wasn’t even in the same boat as either of them. Instead she was in the boat with Legolas and Gimli, which sat in between Boromir’s boat (which contained Merry and Pippin) and Aragorn’s boat (which held Sam and Frodo). The Elf and Dwarf had refused to let her aid in paddling the boat so she’d been biding her time by silently checking on everyone. Occasionally she would lean over to one side of her boat and flick water at the Hobbits to get a laugh out of them (their laughs always brought a smile to her face). 

However, there was no one she checked on more than Aragorn. There were a few occasions where he met her gaze, and they would always share a smile before turning away, but Issa noticed that Aragorn refused to even look in Boromir’s direction. Issa thought they were both acting a bit childish, but she had a feeling that pointing it out would only make things worse. 

Eventually she grew sleepy. Not doing anything for a certain amount of time did that to her. After checking that the world wouldn’t explode if she rested her eyes for a few minutes, she made herself comfortable by curling up to the side of the boat with her head resting on top of the edge and her eyes fell closed. Unfortunately she was quickly woken up when she heard Aragorn call Frodo’s name softly. Her eyes fluttered open, and she gasped in amazement at the sight before her. 

Two enormous statues towered above them like three hundred foot pinnacles on either side of the river. They had been gorgeously carved into images of the Gondorian Kings of old, each holding a hand outstretched in a ‘stop’ stance while the other held a sword as a sign that they were there to protect Gondor against enemies. They stood tall, powerful and mighty, much to the awe of the Fellowship. 

“The Argonath…” Aragorn trailed off softly, and after one look at him Issa could tell that he was moved by the stone sentinels. “Long have I desired to look upon the Kings of old... my kin.” 

The Fellowship remained silent in amazement as the current moved them through the narrow gap at the statues’ feet. Only a mile down the river they ended up in a large lake right before a huge waterfall that finally ended the river. They quickly docked their boats and climbed out, ready to settle for the night. 

“We cross the lake at nightfall, hide the boats and continue on foot…we approach Mordor from the North,” Aragorn instructed, eyes grazing over each member of the Fellowship. 

“Oh yes,” Gimli grumbled gloomily. “Just a simple matter of finding our way through Emyn Muil, an impassable labyrinth of razor sharp rocks. And after that it gets even better… a festering, stinking marshland as far as the eye can see.” Issa rolled her eyes at him. 

“That is our road. I suggest you take some rest and recover your strength, Master Dwarf,” she responded for Aragorn. The Dwarf looked indignant at her words. 

“Recover my…” he repeated in offense before grumbling under his breath. Issa tried to suppress a smile at how easy it was to rile the Dwarf up, then watched as Legolas faced Aragorn with urgency. 

“We should leave now,” he muttered quietly. 

“No. Orcs patrol the Eastern shore,” the Man responded in the same tone. “We must wait for the cover of darkness.” 

“It’s not the Eastern shore that worries me,” he spoke, eyes glancing over the Parth Galen forest that stood just a few feet away from the shores. “A shadow and a threat has been growing in my mind. Something draws near, I can feel it.” His words worried her, and the knowing look that Aragorn offered in return didn’t help in the slightest. She watched as Merry walked over and dumped a small pile of kindling at Gimli’s feet before looking around. 

“Where’s Frodo?” His question caused a chain reaction in everyone. Within seconds everyone was up and looking around for the Ring Bearer. Issa’s eyes fell on Boromir’s shield, and she came to the quick realization that Boromir was missing as well.

“Aragorn…” she trailed off slowly.

“I will go look for him,” Aragorn said, taking her hand in his. “You stay here with the others.” Issa wanted to protest, wishing to help him find Frodo, but ultimately decided against it and instead nodded. She watched as the Ranger disappeared into the woods, an uneasy feeling sinking into her stomach. She had a feeling Legolas noticed because he began walking over to her but suddenly paused, which confused her.

“Legolas?” She called worriedly. The Elf had no time to say anything before a terrifying sounding war cry broke through the trees. Without warning, a swarm of Uruk-hai and Orcs surrounded them. In an instant the Fellowship was up yet again. It was an ambush!

“Get to the woods,” Legolas instructed urgently. 

Issa ushered Sam, Merry and Pippin into the woods. Sam immediately ran off to find Frodo, ignoring the girl’s calls for him to come back. She knew it was all for naught, however, so she instead focused on the rest of the Hobbits. Unfortunately that didn’t last long as Merry and Pippin ran off after him, leaving her alone. Unfortunately she couldn’t even find time to run after them as she suddenly became surrounded by a small group of Uruks, ready to kill her. She pulled out Ringil, ready to fight. 

And fight, she did. She had managed to kill at least half before she finally received help in the form of Legolas, who stood back to back with her as they took down the remaining group surrounding them. Their victory was short lived as they heard a horn sounding in the distance. It was the horn of Gondor. 

“Boromir,” Issa gasped worriedly. 

“Come on Issa,” Legolas grabbed her hand and began pulling her in the direction that the horn came from. 

It took them much longer to reach him than they expected. On the way they caught sight of Gimli fighting off his own horde of Orcs. Of course Issa couldn’t just let him do it alone so she and Legolas jumped in, helping him finish off before recruiting him to help find Boromir. Legolas thankfully remembered what direction the horn was coming from. 

They picked up their pace until they reached a small clearing, which held a rather large amount of Orc and Uruk bodies. Just faintly she could hear more soldiers running away, but she stopped dead in her tracks when she realized Boromir was on the ground in Aragorn’s arms, three arrows sticking out of his chest. 

“I would have followed you, my brother...my captain, my King,” he muttered to Aragorn with the best smile he could muster up. Then, just a moment later, Issa watched as he took his last breath. She gasped quietly and covered her mouth in shock as tears welled up in her eyes. Aragorn carefully laid Boromir on the ground, pressing a gentle kiss to his forehead afterwards. 

“Be at peace, son of Gondor,” he whispered before standing up with his head still low. 

He turned, then his eyes met his fiancé’s. They moved towards each other in unison until he finally pulled the girl into one of the tightest embraces she’d ever felt from him. She felt his shaky hand grip her like a lifeline, and she couldn’t help but allow her tears to fall as she looked at him over. He looked exhausted - emotionally and physically. 

“Are you okay?” She asked quietly, pulling away just enough to look into his eyes. The look of pure love and adoration in his eyes took her back for a moment. 

“I’ll be okay. What about you?”

“I’m fine,” she nodded before looking down at Boromir. “What… what happened?” 

“He was trying to protect Merry and Pippin,” was all the answer she needed. She nodded then sighed shakily. 

“They will look for his coming from the white tower…but he will not return,” Aragorn continued sadly. 

“They will know that he died with honor and valor,” she reassured him gently, then hesitated. “Aragorn, can we…” The Man didn’t even have to hear the rest of her question to know what she wanted. She wished to bury him at sea so that he could rest in peace. And that was the greatest honor they could do him for his bravery. 

So, Aragorn and Legolas carried him back to the river, laying him in one of the remaining two boats (where the third was, Issa didn’t know yet). Issa laid his sword on his chest, arranging his hands so they were resting on the hilt, while Gimli muttered a Dwarvish prayer. Once everything was set, Aragorn untied the boat. All four of them watched as the boat followed the current before finally falling down the waterfall, putting the warrior to rest. For a moment they just stood there in silence laying their respects, then Legolas moved over to the last remaining boat. 

“If we are quick, we will catch Frodo and Sam before nightfall,” he said quickly. When Aragorn didn’t answer at first, Issa looked at him. The Man was looking towards the far shore where Frodo and Sam’s boat was. Both she and Legolas immediately understood what he was thinking. 

“You mean not to follow them…” Issa muttered in realization. 

“Frodo's fate is no longer in our hands,” Aragorn answered simply.

“Then it has all been in vain,” Gimli grumbled. “The Fellowship has failed.” 

“Not if we hold true to each other,” the Man protested. “We will not abandon Merry and Pippin to torment and death, not while we have strength left.” He paused to pull a hunting knife out of his pack and strap it on before looking at them again. 

“Leave all that can be spared behind,” he continued grimly. “We travel light. Let's hunt some Orc.” His conclusion excited the Dwarf because he laughed heartily. 

“Yes!” His enthusiasm earned a small laugh from Issa as she strapped any weapons and other supplies she’d need to herself. Once everyone was ready they followed Aragorn back into the woods, following the Uruk-hai trail.

#lord of the rings #lotr #lotr imagine #aragorn #aragorn imagine #aragorn x oc