#Aragorn always makes decision | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

thewulf · 3 months

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My Queen || Aragorn

Summary: Request - Can I pleeeease send you an idea where he finds a girl in the woods, hurt and not conscious but he feels the need to help her and be close to her. So he takes care of her wounds till she wakes up and it's like true love at first sight for both of them... Read Rest Here

A/N: OH WOW, this got out of hand QUICK but I had SO MUCH FUNNNN writing this way! It was a challenge but it felt invigorating to write. I am obsessed with Aragorn and I just love him. Margot Robbie is so right for her cinematic crush! Thank you for the request anon, hope you love it :)

Pairing: Aragorn x Reader

Word Count: 10,000 +

TW: Violence, orc violence, poison, death, blood, crying, angst, lotr warnings, Aragorn being hot af

Just a few more stumbling steps. You could do it. Glancing down you grimaced at the crimson coated and tattered dress that you’d been wearing for the last five or so days. It used to be so gorgeous, a gift from the man you were meant to wed. Truly it was the only exquisite gift you’d ever received in your entirety. However now it looked as if it’d seen a thousand lives, just like the elves had. It bore this resemblance due to the attack on your home. You ran. Running far away from everything you knew. It was tough to grasp just how much you’d been through in the five days since you had to flee your small village just outside of Eriador.

You’d had a good life. Good but rather simple. Almost too simple for your taste. You were engaged to be wed to the local jewelers son at your father’s doing. He had assured you over and over again that going through with the wedding would lead you to a life that he could not provide you. A life you were destined for. Your mother, Valar rest her soul, had been killed a few years prior in an attack on your village leaving you with your father and a small place to live. But it was home.

The local jeweler boy, Newall, had asked you to take a walk around the village right before the tragic events occurred. One moment you were giving him your kindest smile. The next he pushed you into the woods after hearing the screaming coming from the village center. Not making your most brilliant decision you decided to follow behind him only to come to the horrifying realization that your seemingly insignificant village was being brutalized by Orc’s. You stood there frozen in fear as you witnessed men, women and children being slain as if they meant nothing.

It was only when you came face to face with one that you realized how much trouble you were in. Valar save you. He must’ve listened because the Orc simply look at you, growled and pushed you into the side of the house you were standing next to. But then it dawned on you that he wasn’t done. The creature walked to you terrifyingly slow, standing over you before driving it’s sword into your side. Before you could even yelp out in pain the orc vanished leaving you to die presumably. But it was a shallow wound. It didn’t seem like it was trying to do too much damage. Orcs knew one thing, killing. It was odd that one would have spared you.

When you finally came back to the reality of the situation you knew you had to go. Run to Bree. Your dad always instructed that’s where you needed to go. You had an uncle up there that could look after you. Deciding not to waste another second you rushed inside the house grabbing whatever clothing you could find. Tying a pair of Newall’s pants around your waste to hopefully stop the bleeding you only grabbed a little bit of food before you made for the forest. You’d have to find something along the way. The trek to Bree would take nearly a month on foot.

Using the stars as guidance you moved through the forest you knew very well. It started out fine. You were trained to do just this. Your father had made sure of it. What you hadn’t considered was the poison from the orc blade that was slowly taking its toll on your body. It was the fourth night that you realized you were in serious trouble. On the fifth day you decided you weren’t going to be able to go any further. No wonder the Orc didn’t just kill you there. He left you to suffer. What a vile creation.

It didn’t take you long to decide on where you wanted to die. You found a nice tree under the shade of the leaved with a comfortable base. You were just going to go to sleep and hopefully never wake up. Hopefully the poison would just do what it wanted to and let you finally go.

That did not happen though. You felt a light kick on your boot forcing your eyes to open. What you weren’t expecting was a rather handsome looking ranger with ice blue eyes to be staring right at you. Considering what to do.

“Miss,” He knelt down after whispering something to his horse, “Are you injured?” His surprisingly concerned eyes spotted the blood that coated your worn-down dress.

Taking a long breath, you mustered enough strength to answer the stranger, “Yea, Master Ranger.” You let your head lean back on the trunk of the tree relieving the strain it seemed to put on year mere consciousness.

“Forgive me, but you do not look it miss.” His head was level with yours as he moved closer to you. He didn’t dare touch you without your permission, but he wanted too, you were not all right like you so miserably tried to convince him.

A shallow breath escaped you, “I fear I have been stabbed by an Orc blade Ranger. I do not have much longer.” Your eyes flicked away from his in a pathetic attempt to rid him of the conversation. He would have no such thing though. Leave a fair maiden to perish on her own? Not on his accord.

“Strider.” He corrected you. It wasn’t often he’d give out his Ranger known name to strangers, but you seemed harmless enough. What could a human woman such as yourself have done to deserve such a fate he wondered before continuing on, “We are but a half days journey to a small town called Sarn Ford. Have you heard of it miss?” He asked in hopes of seeing your eyes open once more.

You did as he wished and looked at him again, “Sarn Ford? Oh dear. I’ve gone the wrong direction.” You grimaced in pain as you tried to sit up higher on the tree trunk.

“Where are traveling to miss? On your own?” He held out an open hand for you to take. He left the decision on if you’d accept the help up to you.

Eyeing his hand, you knew he was prying. But he seemed trustworthy. The Rangers of the North were meant to be. Strider as he called himself. Your eyes met his again and you caved right then and there. He looked genuine, like he thought he could actually help you. Like you were not too far gone. With all the strength you could muster in your quickly fading body you put your hand in his, “Aye. My village was attacked by orcs. Third time in the last five years. They got me this time.” You sighed trying your hardest to stay conscious, “I was meant to travel to Bree. But I must have taken to the wrong direction. I will be blaming the Orc poison for the misdirection.” You let out a pained laugh trying to lighten the tone of the conversation going on between the two of you.

“All right. Off we go. What is your name?” He asked you needing to know to continue.

He watched you intently sputter out the words you were trying to get out. His fear of orc poison was right, you truly did not have that much time left. With your permission he scooped you up in his arms, called his horse over and positioned you in front of him while he rode. He knew you did not have enough strength to hold on from behind. He knew It would be a challenge to keep you upright on the journey back to Sarn Ford. He was meeting Gandalf there, anyway, might as well help the woman who he had taken a fast liking towards. Even Strider could see the beauty in things, and you were mighty beautiful in his eyes. Even coated in layers of dirt and grime he knew you shined like a star above him.

“Y/N.” You admitted to the man not feeling up to lying to him. You would likely be dead before dawn anyway. You would have hoped he would find a way to let anybody surviving know of your unfortunate fate. But in reality you were just another causality of war. A human life cut far too short.

“Lovely name.” He smiled lowly as he held you into him. He could feel you were fading in and out of consciousness as he held onto your waist tightly.

You hummed in thanks not having the strength to reply to him.

“Hold on miss Y/N. We will be there soon.” He spoke into your ear startling you back onto the middle earth side of consciousness.

But as much as he tried you had succumbed to your own fate. Blackness took over before you reached the village of Sarn Ford.

Much to your own surprise your eyes opened once more. You peaked around seeing all sorts of supplies. You must have been in some sort of healers room you concluded quickly. Looking down you were not in your attire you had been found in but a simple dress that you were more accustomed too. Being so caught up in your own accord you had yet to see the two men. Well one man and one wizard standing off to the side conversing as you came back to reality.

“Welcome young one.” The wizard spoke. You had never seen one before. Thought they were the thing of legends. But sure, as it would be one stood before you. They were easy to spot. Had an aura about them.

Your eyes snapped back to Striders looking at him in surprise. He was more handsome than you remembered as the sun beat down on his features through the window in the hut you were in, “It is all right.” He nodded at you, “This is Gandalf the Grey, he is an old friend of mine.”

“Hello Gandalf.” You broke your eyes away from the stranger your somewhat knew and turned your head towards the wizard.

“How are you fairing?” He asked whilst leaning onto his cane.

“Fine now. Thank you.” You turned toward Strider who made his way closer, “Thank you Strider. For without you I fear I may have been dead by now.” A shiver of realization ripped down your spine as you admitted it out loud.

He bowed his head, “I am honored to have been of service miss Y/N.” You looked over to him giving him a bashful smile. He was really so handsome. More handsome than any of the boys or men in your small village.

“Are you well enough to travel?” Gandalf asked breaking the trance the two of you had been locked in for a moment too long to be just friendly glances. Gandalf was considered wise for a reason. He had an inkling feeling there was something budding between his usually broody friend and the pretty human girl he had found in the woods. Maybe you were his gift from Valar. Every great leader needed one. Who was Gandalf to question the gods.

“I believe so.” You sat you wincing only slightly as the wound in your side. Strider wanted nothing more than to push you back down and curse the wizard who suggested you move so soon.

“Miss Y/N. You need to rest a little longer.” He insisted placing a gentle hand on your shoulder preventing you from standing.

Gandalf grumbled, “You must get to the Prancing Pony Inn. I’m going to meet Frodo now. Time is of the essence Aragorn.”

Your eyes crumbled in confusion. Who was Aragorn?

He did not leave you time to question as he grabbed at your hand, “Come miss Y/N. We have a ride to take.”

You sat at the bar table with Strider who had hood of his robe covering his face. You grew more uneasy as the night wore on at the Prancing Pony. The horse ride was quick thankfully. And much to your delight the Hobbits Gandalf was speaking of finally appeared. Right on time.

Strider shot up from his seat, “Wait here miss Y/N. I must save the Hobbit.” He sighed before bounding off into the depths of the bar. You felt even more uneasy as the eyes around you made their way to your shaking frame. You were nervous.

After far too many moments alone he grabbed you by your arms, “Come Y/N. We must hide.” He directed you to another room than the ones you had planned on staying in.

“Strider?” You asked following him up a set of stairs you were unfamiliar with.

“Nazgul. I’ll explain later. For now, you must sleep. We have a long journey to Rivendell. Especially with the Hobbits.” He let a long breath while opening the door for you. Quickly, you were attacked by questions from the four little Hobbits. Happily, though you answered every single one before lying next to Strider who promised to keep watch.

“You should get some rest too.” You whispered hoping not to wake the sleeping Hobbits.

He nodded, “I shall. In due time. I fear we have something coming.”

Your frown was evident as he continued to try and comfort you, “Do not fret. I am keeping watch for a reason. We are safe.”

“I believe you Strider.” You yawned not being able to keep the tiredness away for much longer.

“Rest.” He commanded.

You were far too tired to argue that as the darkness crept in.

You were woken when the screeching next door commenced. The Hobbits must’ve had more sensitive ears as they were already up and staring at Strider who looked glum.

“What are they?” Frodo asked.

He sat at the window looking at the five of you, “They were once men. Great kings of men. The Sauron the Deceiver gave to them nine rings of power.” You felt a shiver ripple across your body. You’d heard the legends and did not believe those either. Yet again, another thing coming true right before your eyes.

“We must move.” He commented seeing the Nazgul retreating away from the inn.

You must have walked for miles until Strider had the five of you rest at the old watchtower of Amon Sul. You stood there behind the Hobbits staring up the decaying rock structure before you. It must have been grand in its time.

Once you were seated next to the Hobbits he stood and tossed each of you a weapon, “These are for you. Keep them close. I’m going to have a look around. Miss Y/N, will this blade be too large for you?” He handed you a smaller sword for you to try.

“I fear you have too much faith in me Strider.” You unsheathed the sword holding onto it carefully, “But this will work.” You nodded towards him.

“You shall not have to use it. In case only.” He pointed at each of you, “I will be back. Rest. Make no noise or sound.” His command was easy to follow. A natural born leader it seemed.

You woke when you heard Frodo yelling from beside you, “What are you doing?” He yelled a little too loud. You rose from the ground you had managed to sleep on and watched the interaction unfold. You cursed when you saw the fire going. He had not explicitly said no fires, but the intention was there.

“Put it out you fools!” Frodo cried. You rose from your slumber and haphazardly helped him put it out.

The horrifying cry you heard from the Nazgul the night before rang out from outside the watch tower.

“Oh no.” You spotted them coming towards you, “No Strider?” You turned to Frodo with a horrifying realization.

He shook his head, “Go! Up!” You followed the Hobbits to the top of the tower and waited. You shivered when you saw them come from the shadows. You heard nothing but your hammering heart in your chest. This was it. This could be the end. You sword was shaking in your hand.

“Back you devils!” Sam screamed trying to shield them off. You blocked a shot but was stopped when Frodo pulled the ring out. You gasped when they all ran from him. To your horror when he put the ring on he disappeared.

Strider came out of nowhere blocking back the Nazgul from all of you. You ran to Frodo in horror seeing the man defend the five of you with ease. A few of them went up in flames as kept fighting them off. They had enough when he got another went up and flames and ran off. Strider quickly came over to the five of you surrounding Frodo. You had your hand on his horrifyingly black wound. You’d never seen poison like that before.

“Help him Strider!” You cried in a shaky voice once he kneeled down next to you.

He picked the sword up shaking his head slowly, “He’s been stabbed by a Morgul blade.” The blade vanished in his hand as Frodo writhed beneath you, “This is beyond my skill to heal. He needs Elvish medicine.”

You looked down at the Hobbit in pain and let a single tear fall, “We will get you the help you need mister Frodo. Rest assured.” He picked the Hobbit up and began running, “Let us go.”

The four of you trailed Strider in a daze. The Nazgul screams seemed to ring out from every direction as you ran, “Hurry!” he shouted at the four of you with Frodo crying in his arms.

“We are six days from Rivendell! He will never make it!” Sam cried sending a shuddering realization through you.

You simply heard a faint whisper come from Strider ahead of you, “Hold on, Frodo.” From Strider who kept running and did not acknowledge Sam. As tired as you were you had to keep moving for Frodo’s sake. You ran and ran until you could no more and then you ran some more.

He only stopped when he ran into three petrified trolls. He set Frodo down looking around frantically. You and Sam went over to look after him. Same placed a gentle hand to the despondent Hobbit.

Sam shuddered at the touch, “Mr. Frodo! He’s going cold.”

“Is he going to die?” Pippen chimed in. You stood back looking over the shivering Hobbit who long since stopped crying out in pain.

Strider turned to the five of you with a concerned look crossing over his features, “He’s passing into the Shadow World. He’ll soon become a Wraith like them.” He stated so calmly. Your face grimaced at the horrifying realization. Frodo becoming a Nazgul?

Strider continued, “Sam, do you know the Athlelas plant?” You listened in but bent down to hold Frodo’s hand hoping some comfort would help the gasping Hobbit. His eyes were glazing over with something of a blue sheen that sent shivers down your body.

“Athelas?” Sam asked confused by the question.

“Kingsfoil.” Strider tried a different name.

Sam nodded, “Kingsfoil, aye, it’s a weed!”

“It may help the poisoning. Hurry!” He pushed the Hobbit off, “Miss Y/N. Stay with Frodo. We will be back with help.” You nodded holding onto his hand dearly.

Not a few moments later you saw the help arriving. A beautiful elf strode over and down to the quickly fading Hobbit. You took a step back as she took a step towards him. You gaped at the beauty that she was leaning down to your newfound friend. An elf in real life. She was beyond your wildest imagination. You had been told of their beauty, but this was bordering on ethereal.

“I am Arwen. I have come to help you.” She whispered into his ear, “Hear my voice. Come back to the light.” She grabbed at his hand while Strider handed her the plant.

“Who is she?” Merry asked quietly as Frodo was tended to.

“Arwen, an elf.” You whispered repeating what you heard her speak to Frodo not seconds ago, “She’s going to save him.” You said out loud to convince yourself more so than the group of Hobbits.

“Frodo,” She whispered, “He’s fading.” She sounded concerned as she looked over to Strider, “He’s not going to last. We must get him to my father.” The two of them stood as Strider grabbed at Frodo, “I’ve been looking for you for two days.” She said to Strider. You watched as the scene unfolded before you not wanting to get in the way of whatever was occurring.

“Where are you taking him?” Sam asked confused and terribly concerned for his friend.

He was ignored as Arwen continued, “There are five Wraiths behind you. Where the other four are, I do not know.” You watched as Strider put Frodo onto the horse with ease.

Suddenly Strider started talking in what you assumed to be Sindarin as you could not understand what they were saying. They must have agreed upon something as Arwen hopped onto the horse and took off with Frodo. Your mind was sent into a spiral as you guessed where he was going and off so quickly.

“She is taking him to Rivendell. To Lord Elrond for him to be healed. She is the faster rider and will get him there sooner. Come, we must go.” He motioned for the group to keep moving, “Miss Y/N, will you walk with me?”

You nodded speeding up your pace to match his, “Master Strider.”

“Strider is fine.” He hummed as he led the group out of the forest somehow knowing exactly where to go.

“Is he going to make it?” You had to ask him. The thought of his passing was eating at you.

He nodded, “His best chance is with Arwen. The sooner we get to Rivendell the sooner we will find out.”

“Well then let us speed up our pace then.” You smiled up at him.

He chucked and nodded. The two of you walked in a comfortable silence as you occasionally made sure the chatty Hobbits behind you were faring all right.

“She is pretty.” You spoke after a while of not being able to get Arwen’s face out of your mind.

“Arwen?” He questioned you giving you a curious once over seeing that the statement seemingly came out of nowhere.

“Aye. She is beautiful.”

“She is. Most elves are.” He agreed with you, “She is wed to another healer. Her father set the marriage up ages ago before you great great grandmother was even a thought.”

“Oh, to have the lifespan of an elf!” You laughed feeling the weight of whatever tension you were holding onto about Arwen be lifted.

“I bet it is not all that it seems to be.” You nodded as the two of you continued on the trek to Rivendell occasionally chatting about random things back and forth. You were so caught up in him you failed to notice the Hobbits watching the two you of converse the entire journey back as if you were already a married couple just strolling the lands.

“Welcome to Rivendell miss Y/N.” Aragorn smiled when he saw your gaping face taking in all the scenery stretching beyond your wildest imagination. He too was struck in awe by its beauty the first time he had come across it all those years ago.

“This cannot be real.” You gasped as he took your hand, pulling you along to look along the city.

“Aye. It is. Come, I want to show you your living quarters for the time being.” He pulled you along knowing exactly where to go in Lord Elrond’s castle. He stopped in what you assumed to be the center seeing two people walking towards the two of you. The wizard and a dark-haired elf stopped just short of you.

“Ah, welcome young one.” Gandalf walked up with who you assumed to be Lord Elrond, “It is wonderful to see you in one piece. Unlike our young Frodo.” He chuckled not realizing what he had said sounded bad without knowing how he was.

Your face dropped, “Oh no, did he not make it?”

Gandalf shook his head hastily in realization of his error, “He is fine young one. A few more hours and he would not have made it.” Gandalf stepped forward, placing a hand on your shoulder in reassurance, “Aragorn here will show you to your chambers.”

You cocked your head to the side, “Aragorn? You said that back in Sarn Ford as well. Who is Aragorn?” This really was not your place to speak in front of so many important people. But you were always a curious one, so you had to ask. The worst they could do is refuse to elaborate any further and you would not press. You did understand boundaries even if you pushed them.

Strider looked at Gandalf with a question in his gaze. Gandalf always had a plan. He could see the feelings bubbling to the surface for Aragorn for his newfound human companion that had to be a gift from Valar himself. Gandalf knew the longer he kept his identity from you the harder the breach of trust would befall the two of you.

Gandalf nodded giving his friend a push towards you. He knew Aragorn had to admit this to you himself. You saw Lord Elrond cock his head in confusion watching the interaction go down. He must not have been privy to what had been going down in Gandalf’s mind.

“Ah, miss Y/N. Strider is my Ranger name. It is my identity. As is Aragorn. Son of Arathorn.” He spoke slowly watching as your face twisted from confusion to realization. You may have been from Eriabor, but you surely knew who Arathorn was.

He continued, “I am also called Elessar, the Elfstone, Dúnadan, the heir of Isildur Elendil's son of Gondor."

“A rightful King?” You asked him with widened eyes. You had no clue that you had been traveling with such a company. You had been so crass it made you want to run away right then and there, especially with Gandalf and Lord Elrond’s amused gazes watching the interaction between two humans.

He nodded, “You are correct.”

“Aragorn.” You spoke for the first time giving him a wide smile, “I do like it. It suits a King such as yourself. Would you mind if I continued to call you Strider though?” Bowing your head slightly you felt a rush of embarrassment pulsate through you. Why were you so unladylike? It was all so thoughtless when he was just a Ranger. Not a bloody King of Gondor.

He waited until your eyes met his again, “No need to bow miss Y/N. And thank you. You may call me either.”

A quick head nod was interrupted by Gandalf, “We must be off. Aragorn drop the young one off at her residence. You are free to explore the castle and Rivendell. But we will need you to meet us in the gardens. We have much to discuss before the Council of Elrond shows up in a few days.” Gandalf spoke directly to Strider who just nodded in agreement.

“Come miss Y/N.” He took your hand and pulled you along quickly, “You will enjoy your stay here. It is a wonderful place. There is quite a bit to do, and the elves are very kind.” He tried his best to reassure you knowing that Gandalf was right. You could not go on. You were not prepared for this kind of journey to any extent. Gandalf also revealed of Aragorn’s known feelings for you. You would be a distraction he could not have along the journey.

“It seems like it.” You grinned thankful you were able to do your own thing for the afternoon. You felt bad for Strider or Aragorn. He seemed to have quite a bit of business to attend to.

He stopped at a door letting you inside. It was small but quant and rather extravagant. Fine details laced every surface. You’d come to expect nothing less from the elves, “I will find you later. Enjoy your day miss Y/N.”

The days went by slowly as you got acquainted with Rivendell. You had the sneaking suspicion your journey was also stopping as Strider was not so keen on giving you any information even though he was gone for days on end.

It was on the day of the gathering of the Council of Elrond that you had all but given up. That was until there was a rapid knocking at your door. Thankfully your elf maiden Nimloth had made sure you were dressed as Strider stood before you with a smile on his face, “Come miss Y/N. The Council of Elrond is starting soon.”

“I am invited?” You were sure there was a dumb look on your face.

He nodded slowly, “Gandalf insisted. Lord Elrond relented.”

You followed him in silence to the gathering of the council. You sat behind Frodo closer to Lord Elrond and away from all of the action that was sure to go down.

It was not long after you took a seat that Lord Elrond stood gathering the council to begin, “Strangers from distant lands, friends of old and new,” His eyes met yours giving you a small wink before continuing on, “You’ve been summoned here to answer the threat of Mordor. Middle-earth stands upon the brink of destruction. None can escape it. You will unite, or you will fail. Each race is bound to this fate, this one doom. Bring forth the ring, Frodo.” A shiver ran down your spine at his straight to the point opening. This was not good.

You watched as Frodo stood and dropped the ring on the stump in the middle of the council.

You heard the man called Boromir speak up, “So it is true.” He looked at the ring with something of desire lacing it. You looked at Strider who was watching the man skeptically. He continued, “The doom of man. It is a gift.” Your heart raced at such a senseless statement. You watched as Strider grew angry at his arrogance.

Nevertheless, Boromir continued, “A gift of the foes of Mordor. Why not use this Ring? Long has my father the Steward of Gondor kept the forces of Mordor at bay. By the blood of our people are your lands kept safe. Give Gondor the weapon of the enemy. Let us use it against them.” He passionately spoke hoping to gain the agreement of the Council.

But Strider would have none of that false speak, “You cannot wield it. None of us can. The One Ring answers to Sauron alone. It has no other master.” Your heart rate sped down at the sensible statement to the man you had grown quite fond of in your week or so of traveling. You had grown a strong liking to the handsome Ranger who saved your life without a second thought.

Boromir looked skeptically at Strider, “And what would a Ranger know of this matter?” He asked with a smug look to his face. You wanted to slap that look right off of his face for he had no clue who he was talking to! A king!

But the elf called Legolas stood quickly in his defense, “This is no mere Ranger. He is Aragorn, Son of Arathon.” You watched as his face scrunched up in a minor irritation. He had tried so hard to keep that a secret and now it was out, “You owe him your allegiance.” He finished looking just as irritated as Strider did. It still felt weird to call him Aragorn. So, you kept up with Strider.

Boromir turned back to him, “Aragorn.” He spoke with a hint of shock in his tone, “This is Isildur’s heir?”

“An heir to the throne of Gondor.” Legolas spoke earning a glare from Strider who spoke to him in Elvish quickly. You wondered what he said because Boromir looked suddenly very angry.

Boromir nearly spat with vengeance while looking at the blond elf, “Gondor has no king.” He turned to look back at Strider and shook his head, “Gondor needs no king.”

Gandalf spoke up breaking the tension among men, “Aragorn is right. We cannot use it.”

Lord Elrond stood, “You have only one choice. The Ring must be destroyed.”

The dwarf called Gimli stood then, “What are we waiting for?” He grabbed his axe and sliced at it in attempt to shatter it. Of course, that did nothing but startle the entire council into submission.

“The Ring cannot be destroyed, Gimli, son of Gloin... by any craft that we here possess. The Ring was made in the fires of Mount Doom. Only there can it be unmade.” Lord Elrond spoke matter of factly. You watched as Frodo nearly collapsed from the pain and realization. You laid a gentle hand on his shoulder hoping he would find some solace in the touch.

Lord Elrond continued, “It must be taken deep into Mordor and cast back into the fiery chasm from whence it came.” Your heart was hammering in your chest at the realization. This would be no easy task for anybody let alone a Hobbit and human group, “One of you, must do this.” Lord Elrond commanded sending your head into so many different directions. Would Strider go? Would the Hobbits? Surely you would never be able to go. No, Strider would never allow it. He had made that very clear.

Boromir sighed, “One does not simply walk into Mordor. It’s Black Gates are guarded by more than just Orcs. There is evil there that does not sleep. The Great Eye is ever watchful. It is a barren wasteland riddled with fire, and ash, and dust. The very air you breathe is a poisonous fume. Not with 10,000 men could you do this. It is folly.”

Legolas was angry now. He shot up from his seat spitting his words at the man, “Have you heard nothing Lord Elrond has said? The Ring must be destroyed.”

Gimli spoke up next, “And I suppose you think you are the one to do it!” The tension grew in the air as everyone began to feel uneasy of the task at hand.

Boromir stood next, “And if we fail, what then? What happens when Sauron takes back what is his?”

Gimli continued, “I will be dead before I see the Ring in the hands of an Elf!” He shouted. Your eyes went wide as everything seemed to be going away from the goal at hand, “Never trust an Elf!”

The group erupted in bickering as you and Frodo sat back in fear of what was going to happen. All but suddenly you watched as Frodo stood. He shouted, “I will take it.” It took him a few attempts before the group heard him.

“I will take the Ring to Mordor.” He said again once everyone had quieted down. You gulped as you watched the scene unfold.

He spoke again, “Though, I do not know the way.”

Gandalf nodded, “I will help you bear this burden, Frodo Baggins as long as it is yours to bear.”

You sat further back into your chair as you watched Strider stand, “If by my life or death I can protect you I will.” Your heart sunk at his words. He caught your forlorn gaze and gave you a simple smile. He walked to Frodo and knelt before the small Hobbit, “You have my sword.”

Legolas stepped forward, “And you have my bow.” Your heart raced seeing the elf walk forward. Thank goodness he volunteered. You had heard stories of the mighty elf warrior of Mirkwood.

“And my ax.” Gimli agreed as he walked towards the growing group. You stood from your spot away from the group, closer towards Lord Elrond. Almost as if you had already known your assigned fate.

Boromir joined slowly, “You carry the fates of us all, little one. If this is indeed the will of the Council then Gondor will see it done.” He stood by the group.

Suddenly the other hobbits joined in earning a hard-earned smile from Lord Elrond.

“Nine companions. So be it. You shall be the Fellowship of the Ring.” You watched as Elrond anointed the group complete. Your downcast eyes found Striders who looked at you with all the care in the world. You were more than nervous for the man you had grown so fond of so quickly. Dare you say you might actually have real genuine feelings for the man standing in the group of nine.

“The journey is no place for a lady.” Strider insisted as he pulled you away from the fellowship. He had conjured up a hundred scenarios in his mind and decided you could not come after seeking the guidance of Gandalf. It was far too dangerous for someone as delicate as you were. He shuddered at the thought of seeing you with a sword far too big for you trying your best to defend not only yourself but the Hobbits from the Nazgul. He never wanted to see or put you in such a situation as that ever again.

Your look broke his heart ten times over. It is not like he wanted to leave you in Rivendell with the elves. He would do anything to take you, but it was just far too dangerous. The encounter with the Nazgul did it in enough for him to hold firm on the decision, “I’m not a lady Aragorn, and you know it! But I understand.” You countered but admitted your faults. You were nothing but a lowly peasant from a tiny village near Eriador. You didn’t mean much to middle earth, a place holder for whatever Valar had planned.

He twisted his head to the side giving you a once over and a sly smile, “Not yet anyway.” He walked towards you, stopping right in front of you. Wanting to say the next word so all the elves and Hobbits behind him couldn’t hear. Having to turn your head up to make eye contact he leaned forward and whispered in your ear, “I have every intention of making you one, my lady.”

Your eyes growing wide and the rosiness that formed on your neck and cheeks made the elves behind him laugh in unison amongst themselves. You noticed the confusion lining the Hobbits faces, no doubt wonder what he had said to you to illicit such a reaction.

You looked back to him with the hint of smile dancing on your lips, “They can hear you Strider.”

He brushed the pads of his fingers along your jawline, “Let them.” He had yet to be so forthcoming with his feelings so far. Sure, you had only known him a little over a week but you had not left his side since you met him. It had already felt so long ago. And when the heart knew it knew. It knew it had feelings for the handsome man with the most beautiful blue eyes that looked at you so kindly standing before you.

“Please be safe.” Your eyes welled with unshed tears as you accepted his command. You could not go along with them. You’d be nothing but the burden you so desperately wanted to avoid. But you also did not want to stay in Rivendell. The elves seemed welcoming enough but who knew how long he would have to be gone. You would surely overstay your welcome.

A curt nod came from the man you’d grown to love in such a short amount of time, “As you wish.” He moved his fingers to your eyes brushing away the tears that had managed to spill over, “Do not cry. I will be back as soon as I can.” The moment felt far too intimate to have the whole company trying not to watching but paying close attention anyway, they were not being sly about like they thought they were. They had all grown to adore you in some capacity, more some than others. Pippen was especially sad your journey had ended there. He had quite enjoyed getting to know you along the short trek from The Shire to Rivendell. You were unlike any other mortal he had met.

“I know. But you will find me in Bree.” You answered him letting the tears fall even as you tried your best to stop them.

He shook his head quickly, “No, you will stay here. In Rivendell. You will be protected here. Lord Elrond has assured me of that.” That sounded more like Aragorn than the Strider you knew. It hit you that the rightful King of Gondor was standing right in front of you. No wonder he had seemed so effortless in leading the group to Rivendell. It was in his blood.

“I do not belong here Aragorn.” You spoke in a plea muttering his actual name for just the second time. It still felt foreign, but you welcomed it on your tongue. Aragon, King of Gondor.

His eyes piqued up in utter curiosity at the sudden name change. You had seemed so adamant on continuing to call him by his Ranger name despite finding his true identity through Gandalf, “You can find an identity here my lady. Lord Elrond will not let that falter. Do you not believe me?” He frowned not enjoying seeing you in such a distressed state. He too had grown to have deep feelings for you. You were kind and compassionate. Smarter than you knew. Made him smile more than he ever had in his life in the short time he had known you. You kept him on his toes, and he adored that about you. He grew to like maybe even love you in mere days.

“I am a burden here. Useless. They will get sick of me.” You were pleading to him now. If you knew better you would not be pushing somebody of such high stature.

He gulped not knowing what to say. He could pick up on your stress through your expression and the way you picked at your fingernails. A habit he’d seen both at the Inn and when the group was attacked by the Nazgul. Just as he was about to open his mouth he heard Elrond from behind him. And bless him he thought for he had no idea how to calm your racing mind.

“Have you not enjoyed your stay here at Rivendell? Do you not wish to stay?” Lord Elrond spoke up after hearing the concerns you had spoken in private to Aragorn. He knew he likely should have just stayed quiet and let Aragorn handle the situation. But his overly sensitive ears could pick up the frantic panic in your voice towards the man.

You shook your head quickly, “No my lord. I wish to not be a burden to your home. You see I… I do not have much to offer your city.” You hung your head in shame hoping you did not fully insult Elrond. He had already been so kind to you.

“A burden?” He shook his head walking over to the two of you. All eyes still watching the interaction with the utmost curiosity, “You would hardly be a burden. I will be honest with you. With many of the elves planning to take to the sea I will need some help preparing. You will have a place here. Rest assured.”

A small sigh let out from your chest. Aragorn watched you intently with a bright smile on his face seeing the Elf relax your mind in mere moments. Leave it to Elrond to calm you down so easily. He needed to take a page or two from his book.

“Are you sure Lord Elrond?” You asked timidly to the much, much taller elf. Why’d they have to be so beautiful and intimidating at the same time?

He gave you a quick nod before turning, “I have already made up my mind child. Now let us go. The Fellowship has much planning to do before they are off in a few days.” He motioned for you to follow him.

You turned back to Aragorn before you left, “I wish you luck. I will see you soon. Be safe.” Taking a risk, you grabbed for his hand giving it a gentle squeeze.

“Anything for you my lady.” You caught the brief wink he had given you before bowing his head.

You walked over to the rest of the group, “I wish you all nothing but the best. Please take care of each other. I want to see you all when this is over. Yea?” Your voice broke at the end.

The Hobbits crowded around you giving you one last hug, “We will take your word to heart Lady Y/N.” Pippen smiled as he hugged your side.

“I am no lady.” You laughed once more. Where had they all gotten this ridiculous notion from?

“That’s not what Legolas told us.” Frodo smirked while looking over at Aragorn was deep in conversation with Boromir not paying a lick of attention to the goodbyes you were giving. It hurt him just as much as it was hurting you so he distracted himself with the other man in the Fellowship.

Your eyes found the blonde elf who attempted to feign innocence for the second time that afternoon, “You are a rightful menace Legolas.” You muttered to him almost finding enjoyment out of his butting in.

He shrugged innocently, “I am not sure what you are talking about Lady Y/N.”

You smiled shaking your head while giving each Hobbit a quick squeeze, “Good luck Legolas. Please watch out for him?” Your request may have been too much for the elf and you knew it. A big ask that you would have never of done had you not fallen for him so quickly.

But he agreed, “You have my word, my lady.” He smirked sensing your aversion to the formality you so desperately tried to avoid.

A quick shake of the head and you went off to follow Elrond you was waiting for you patiently in the distance, “I will see you all soon.” You waved, not waiting for their response as it felt to be too much in the moment. It amazed you

“Thank you for your hospitality Lord Elrond.” You said quickly once you caught up to the dark-haired elf.

He gave you what you was sure was a genuine smile, “It brings me a great pleasure to host you Lady Y/N.”

Your mouth gaped, “Is he forcing you to say that?” Surely you were going to have to get used to the title if Elrond had agreed to it. It would be shameful to try and correct the ruler of the land. Even you had some semblance of sanity and preservation.

Elrond shook his head quickly. He gave you a serious expression, one that you were not used to seeing from elf, “Aragorn is the rightful heir to the Throne of Gondor. We recognize the title here in Rivendell. I respect what he wishes. If he has given you that title you should wear that as a badge of honor.”

“You think so?” You thought you might have been pressing your luck with the lord. But he had the patience of somebody you had never met before. He was like no human you knew even if he was half of it.

If he was offended at your questioning he hid it well. A small smile adorned his features as he led you down the path to an empty room in the castle he had placed you in earlier, “I know so. When you have been around as long as I. You tend to notice these small things.”

He stopped in front of a door you had not been privy too in your prior explorations, “Your quarters for the time being. I had Nimloth move your belongings from your previous room to here. I suspect you will find it adequate.”

Your eyes nearly bugged out of their sockets when he opened the massive wood doors. The most intricate carvings of wood was placated on every surface of the room. The detail and craftsmanship was beyond anything you had seen in your tiny little village. You ran your fingers along the different sets of furniture admiring the fine detail that was crafted into every surface, “More than adequate Lord Elrond. Thank Nimloth for me?” You asked after finding all your belongings neatly put away.

He bowed to you. An elf bowed to you! What had this life become? Once so lost now you were somebody a lord found pleasure in conversing with.

“I will see to it. She will fetch you for dinner as well. Welcome to Rivendell.” Without waiting for a response, he shut the doors behind him letting you be with your thoughts. And oh, were they racing beyond your wildest measure.

It had been 414 days since Aragorn and the Fellowship had set out to destroy the ring. You refused to give up any sort of hope as you heard bits and pieces of information from Lord Elrond. You had grown close to elf in your stay at Rivendell. He had given you sage life advice time and time again. You were there for him when Arwen and his sons went off to sea not to be seen again until he were to take his trip. You knew he was utterly lonely and wanting nothing more than to go be with his wife and children. But he had a duty to middle earth that he would see too. He would see that the age of man had a true leader in Aragorn to guide peace and prosperity forward. He knew the age of elf was done and good. Frodo just had to finish it by destroying the ring.

You were sitting in the study reading a text in Sindarin, Lord Elrond had taught you enough of the language to get by, when you heard the doors to the study open with a loud thud. You set the text down on the desk as you peaked your head towards the door.

“Lady Y/N?” Lord Elrond’s voice called out.

You stood from your chair, “Yes my lord?” You caught him smiling ear to ear at the front of the study. A giddy feeling of shock shot throughout your body in anticipation for what might come next.

“They are back.”

You felt like your heart might have actually stopped beating there for a second, “Aragorn?” You asked breathlessly.

“Alive and well. Come.” He motioned you to follow him just like he had all those days ago when you first got to Rivendell.

When you spotted him out in the courtyard you did not give a second thought about being a lady anymore. You all out sprinted to the man who had consumed you whole in his time away. He wrapped you in his arms once you ran right into his chest. Letting out a small grunt from the impact he started laughing. A full-on belly laugh rang out from the man as he held you in his arms once more.

“You came back.” You felt the tears forming in your eyes as you buried yourself in his chest.

He held you in his arms as tightly as he could relishing in the moment of just being there with you, “I gave you my word, my lady. Did I not?” He pulled you back so he could look at you. Ethereal. Rivendell had been nothing but good to you he concluded. He would have to thank Lord Elrond for being so hospitable towards the one he had loved.

“You did. Thank you.” You grasped him a little tighter as he clinged onto you just the same.

You gasped opening the letter from the Shire, “Sam and Rose!” You ran over to Aragorn with a gleeful smile on your face, “Look, they are to be wed in six months! Long after you are crowned King. I would like to go.”

“Ahh, finally.” Aragorn grabbed the letter from your hand with a smile on his face. You admired him as he read the joyous news of the union. He was so handsome. And he was soon to be crowned King of Gondor, Gandalf had shared with the group the night they came back. He was due to be crowned in two months’ time in Minas Tirith. It gave time for all parties to travel to the desired destination to see the rightful heir be crowned king.

“I was worried he would never go for it. We shall go if you will have me?” Aragorn noted as he smoothed out the robes for tomorrow’s crowning. He had felt more nervous of the thought of proposing to you than he was about being crowned King. Valar calm his nerves.

“Aye. I would love to go with you Aragorn. But is that so? Had he been shy about her?” You asked your love that you were almost afraid to admit to.

He nodded recalling all the time Samwise made comments about the Hobbit he had loved from afar, “He was never the most risk adverse. I think the journey changed him.”

“Yea.” You nodded, “It was good for him.”

He nodded his head. His soft expression hardening just a tinge as he took you in, “You are so beautiful. When I did not think that I was going to make it… the thought of you kept me going. I am so honored to have you by my side.”

You leaned your head back into his chest letting the sun beat down on the two of you as he had helped you prepare for the journey to his rightful home. He had been to Minas Tirith many times before, but never as the King. He was overjoyed at the thought of bringing you to his home. He was not lying before when he promise to make you his lady. He was planning to wed to you not too long after he was crowned King.

“It is my honor Aragorn.” You felt him squeeze his hand along your waist.

He had taken you to his new home by horse. Just the two of you heading to his Kingdom. He wanted to spend the time with you and get to know you. And he was more than glad he did. He did not think it to be possible, but he had fallen more deeply in love with you on the month-long trek to Gondor. It had solidified what he had planned to do, propose to you as soon as he was crowned King. He had gotten Lord Elrond in on the plan as well. Surely, you would be more than irritated at the public display, but he knew you would soon get over it.

Your eyes lit up in amazement at the city that had spring up before you once you had finally made it after a little over a month on the road. It was more massive than even Rivendell had been. You had no idea such structures existed within the human world and was slightly ashamed you knew so little about your very own brethren.

“Welcome to Minas Tirith my lady.” A breathy whisper in your ear he watched below as you took in the city.

“This is… incredible Aragon.” Your eyes traveled everywhere in awe as he rode up the main street on his horse. You were pleasantly surprised at all the greetings even you were getting from all the citizens that resided within the city.

He led you straight to the castle at the center of the city knowing you were probably more than overwhelmed. Sure, he had warned you but actually seeing it and doing it was entirely different thing. He bowed to his guards as he made his way to his, and soon to be your, chambers.

“You will sleep here tonight.” He said matter of factly as you explored his chambers.

You shook your head, “I cannot. This is your room. You need to rest before tomorrow! You are being crowned King. That does not happen every day Aragorn.” You protested but he simply shook his head.

“It is all right.” He led you to his bed, “I insist my lady. I have made up my mind and you will not be able to change it.” He grinned beautifully as you sat down on the bed, accepting defeat so easily.

“So stubborn you are.” You mused at him with a delighted look on your face. It felt like a step was being taken as he insisted you stay in his quarters. Protected by the best of the best. He saw you as nothing but precious to him.

He chucked softly, “I must leave you to it. Feel free to explore. One of the guards can show you around if you would like. I must see to a few things before tomorrow. I will see you after the ceremony?” He asked watching you carefully. He wanted you to be comfortable before he left you. He knew it would be tough to go a night without each other after spending so much alone for the better part of a month.

“All right.” You nodded quickly, “I will see you tomorrow, my King.” You grinned right back at him knowing you would never tire of calling him that. It was a far cry from the Strider you had met so long ago now.

He brushed his hand along your jaw. Giving you a brief bow, he spoke once more, “My lady.” Before walking out his chambers and leaving you too it. A wave of exhaustion coupled by the softness of the mattress below you sent you into a slumber much sooner than you were expecting. Maybe you would get the grand tour another time. For now, sleep overtook you..

You watched in awe as Gandalf crowned Aragorn with amazement in his own eyes. You had truly never seen anything so grandeur in your life. All this for your Aragorn. Yet, you felt he had deserved this and so much more.

“Now come the days of the King.” Gandalf’s voice boomed throughout Minas Tirith as thousands stood to watch Aragorn be crowned. You felt your eyes well up with proud tears as the crown laid atop his head. He was so striking. So Kingly. Your breath was taken away as he turned to the crowd. He was your King.

“This day does not belong to one man… but to all.” His voice now boomed filling your chest with the utmost pride for the man you loved, “Let us together rebuild this world… that we may share in the days of peace.” He smiled as the crowd erupted in cheers for their newly crowned King. You joined in happily clapping and cheering along with the city folk.

He sang as the flower petals began to fall. You watched as his company and all those around him bowed to him as he walked amongst the crowd. Your heart sped up rapidly as he was moving along closer, and closer to you.

Elrond pulled you back behind a shield at your protest as Legolas stepped forward. Being none the wiser you shot your elder a precarious look as he told you to be quiet and wait a second and you would see what was going on. He did not lie to you. Lord Elrond never did.

The elf beside you pulled the shield away leaving you staring right into the icy blue eyes of the man you had loved so dearly. You gulped but stepped towards him. He looked just as entranced as you felt.

Feeling overwhelmed at the entirely of the situation you bowed your head to your King once you were mere inches in front of him. Never before had so many eyes been on you. Yet he had made it feel like it really was just the two of you at that moment.

He would have none of that though. He took his hand under your chin and pulled it up, so you were looking at him. He too forgot that thousands of people were watching. It felt like it was just you and him. You had that effect on him. Your doe eyes staring up at him so desperately is what did him in. He could simply wait no longer to have what he wanted… you.

When you smiled at him he did not care any longer. He went straight in for the kiss. You wrapped your arms around him as he spun you around, happier than ever before. He had let his intentions be known. You were his for forever, his forever.

You would be embarrassed later but now it was just you and him. A giggle erupted from you as you hugged him once more. He grabbed your hand and pulled you along as he went to search for the Hobbits.

You took a knee after Aragorn spoke, “My friends… you bow to no one.” A smile erupted on your face as you watched the kingdom take a knee for them. Frodo’s face told the story. Aragorn gently wiped off the tears that were streaming down your face.

“I love you, my Queen.” He whispered in your ear.

“Your Queen?” You gasped looking up to him. Surely you did not think you would take

“Are we to be wed no?” He asked curiously.

“Aye.” You nodded, “I just did not believe to have such a title.” You looked away from him as he directed everyone to stand once more.

“I am King. You are to be my Queen.” He said so matter of factly you could not believe you were questioning yourself.

“As you wish.” You smiled so gleefully not truly believing this was actually your life now.

He leaned in for one more gentle kiss to please the crowd, “My Queen.” He whispered letting you know he had every good intention in the world with you. For the first time in his already long life, he could not wait to get his life started with you.

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moth-mimic · 3 months

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Hazy Memories

‣ pairing: Legolas x reader

‣ words: 950+

‣ content: fluff, human reader, gn!reader

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summary: after the Fellowship settles down for the night, you find that the cold leaves you unable to fall asleep. A walk in the woods ends in a moment more touching than you could have imagined.

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The terrain you— along with the rest of the Fellowship— trekked along was undeniably a difficult route to take. The temperature had plummeted significantly before the group had even reached the mountain of Caradhras, which led to the decision to make camp before nightfall would bring even deadlier weather.

Now you tossed and turned in your sleeping bag, your thoughts constantly lingering on the persistent, icy wind that was currently nipping at your skin. Most of your companions had somehow already found their way to hazy dreams: the hobbits were huddled together and sharing each other’s warmth; Aragorn, Gimli, and Boromir had each found their own place to rest; and Gandalf was off meditating somewhere, you were sure. The only one who was wide awake was Legolas, who was currently on watch due to his lack of need for sleep.

But through the fog the cold had brought upon your mind, you could still make out the memories of the past evening. Although the long stories of the mountain that Gandalf had told the group were already lost to you, the interactions you had with the blond elf were clear as a sunny day. The thought of him brought an unexplainable warmth throughout your chest before you urged it away. Your feelings for him were based purely on admiration, that was all.

You had always worried about him, which was why you had immediately offered him your cloak once the temperature had began to lower. You felt bad for him, seeing him in simple layers compared to the others. He had given you a curious look at first before a small, warm smile made its way to his face.

“I am alright, thank you.”

“But aren’t you cold?” You continued, the crease in your expression making it seem as if the mere thought of him being cold horrified you.

He shook his head softly, pressing your cloak back towards you. “Not necessarily, although I do appreciate your offer.”

And before you could protest he was already in front of the group again. You watched him gingerly step upon the snowy ground each time he moved, his grace leaving barely a trace. You sighed, the warmth of your breath drifting from your lips. Only when one of the hobbits pushed you forward did you snap out of your trance.

Tonight you were in that same trance again, your restlessness guiding you from your sleeping bag and towards the dense woodland. You weren’t sure where you were headed, if you were headed anywhere, but hopefully your movement would be enough to grant you a bit of warmth. You found your way to a relatively clear path between the trees before your eyes caught sight of a light trail of footsteps. You followed them, wishing for the elf to still be there, yet the trail stopped at a deep decline in the ground. You looked past the cliffside and to the star-speckled sky as if you were waiting for something. After a moment you eventually sighed and intended to turn back around, yet something stirred from the leaves overhead.

With one swift movement you grabbed the pocket knife on your waistband, ready to fight whatever was there— or rather, whoever. When your eyes opened again you were met with ones of sapphire-blue, paired with an amused grin framed by strands of smooth, delicate hair.

“Y/N.”

“I- Legolas!” You stammer, quickly withdrawing the weapon you had faced him with.

He looks you up and down with one swift glance, clearly not affected. “You’re awake. Why?”

“I just can’t sleep. Too cold, I guess.” You answer, not mentioning the fact that you were too busy thinking of how graceful he is. Or that you purposefully followed his footsteps here. He nods.

“Your cheeks are horribly red.” His response makes your eyes widen before you try to relax again, hoping the action was subtle enough that he didn’t notice. He continues as his gaze travels along your face, almost as if he’s analyzing each feature. As he does so, the back of his hands lift to lightly stroke your cheek. Heat blooms under his touch. “You’re not familiar with the cold, are you?”

“And I’m guessing you’re so warm with your… what, only two layers?” You scoff, taking a small step back and turning your head nervously. He looks as if he’s about to respond somehow, yet he cuts himself short. His line of sight travels down to his feet as if he’s nervous.

“Well, I suppose I haven’t been thinking about it. I am very cold, to tell the truth. Freezing, even.” As he confesses this, he glances at you from the corner of his eye as if he’s expecting something.

“I was right!” You exclaim with victory before settling down and providing your care. You join hands with him to share your warmth. “Here, take my cloak. I can do without a layer.”

“No, no, I can’t have you be even colder—“

“I insist! I’m sure you’ve been barely surviving with those mere layers.” You quickly take off your outermost layer, settling it onto his shoulders. You don’t notice the shade of soft pink on his cheeks. “There we go.”

You both stand there for a moment, Legolas looking like he’s still missing something. “I don’t think it’s enough.”

You raise your eyebrow. “Really? Well, if you want another—“

Before you can finish your sentence, the cloak envelopes your upper body, the elf using his arm to support you as he pulls you towards him. You instinctively stiffen before his voice washes over you, calm and easy like a stream. “I think this is perfect.” The tension leaves you at once, instead replaced with the warmth of his body, nurturing like rays of sun. For a moment you believe you’re back home.

Huddled within your cloak, the two of you settle down at the foot of a tree. Your hands wrap around to warm his back as his fingers run gently through your hair, lulling you to sleep. As you fade into unconsciousness, he speaks to you of the old forest at his own home: the towering trees, the soothing melodies of birds, the vibrant green of flora. Your dreams consist of a realm you have never set foot on.

When Aragorn finds the two of you next morning, he doesn’t dare tell you that elves do not get cold.

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#Spotify #legolas x reader #legolas #lotr #lord of the rings #the fellowship of the ring #legolas x you #legolas x y/n #legolas greenleaf #lotr x reader

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velvet4510 · 3 months

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Another Éowyn/Faramir defense: the haters act like Faramir forces Éowyn to be a healer instead of a warrior. What book did y’all read??? He NEVER asks her to change. On the contrary he makes it clear that her accomplishments and her strength are what he loves about her. And he says he will always love her no matter what she is; even if she were to marry Aragorn and become Queen, he would still love and want her. She realizes ON HER OWN that war is horror and there’s nothing glorious about it and it’s better to focus on life and nurturing things that grow. His good influence plays a big part in this, yes, but it is never something he forces on her. He never says “you’re an idiot, you should think the way I think.” He never lifts a finger in any effort to change her whatsoever. She gets to know him, to understand his pacifism, and on her own, she comes to appreciate and share that pacifism, to recognize the wisdom in it because of what she has learned on her own. He just offers her support and love and companionship, and the rest she puts together on her own; his calm strength is a rock for her, helping her to gather her thoughts about what she has experienced and realize that the events on the battlefield have taught her exactly what he already believes when it comes to war. And what does she do about it? She makes up her own mind. It is her choice and her decision to become a healer and gardener. She lists off all the things she has decided to do, and does he say “Good, I hoped you’d quit that warrior nonsense?” Nope. His response is essentially “Whatever you want to do, you will do it, and I will always be right here next to you, cheering you on.” Relationship goals.

#lotr #jrr tolkien #lotr books #lord of the rings #eowyn #faramir #faramir x eowyn #farawyn #eowyn x faramir #eowyn of rohan

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emmyspov · 1 year

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Four times he wasn't sure + 1 time he was (Aragorn x Reader)

author's note: ahh, this is finally done! i started it last year but then uni and work got in the way so it took me until now to finish it. i'm super excited about this honestly, and i hope some of you will feel just as happy reading it. if enough people are interested, i have thought about writing a part two already, like "four times reader wasn't sure + 1 time they were" - what do you think? as always, i tried to keep reader's looks etc. really vague, if there is something you think can be adjusted to make it even more inclusive, please let me know!

warnings: english isn't my first language, mentions of blood, war, death, canon lotr fights, let me know if i forgot something :)

word count: 2.4 k (I think that's the longest fic i've written!)

gif by @dunderklumpen

The first time

"What were you thinking, Strider?", you hissed as the man sat down next to you at the campfire.

"Going out there all by yourself, with no backup. What if a herd of orcs had found you, huh? What then?"

Aragorn could tell you were mad.

"You could have been killed!"

He wasn't even sure if that alone was enough to describe the intense emotions you were displaying right now.

"Darling, I-"

You cut him off. "I don't want to hear it, Aragron. This was dangerous. Something bad could have happened to you."

He hated this. He hated how your voice wavered, either with anger or fear or both. He wanted to see that pretty smile back on your face.

"I can take care of myself."

You took a deep breath. You knew he was right. After all, he was a Ranger from the north who's been riding through the wild all by himself for years, keeping others and himself safe.

Aragorn could tell that something had changed in your demeanor. The wild gesturing of your hands slowed down and your eyes had softened again.

"I know you can", you started as you fumbled around with your hands. "But... What I've been trying to say is that I worry. All the time, about everyone and everything. And when I realised that you were the only one gone from the group and out there without anyone who could help you in case of an attack, something inside me flipped. My worry for you was clouding any rational judgement."

You fell silent for a moment.

"You have the weight of the world on your shoulders, Aragorn. I'm sorry I raised my voice at you. I am just asking, begging you, please don't shut me out. Let me help you carry this weight. You don't have to be the lone ranger any longer. Allow me to take care of you. Let me in."

The crownless king was, quite literally, speechless. Your words had knocked the air out of his lungs.

Would your reaction have been the same if had been Legolas or Boromir who strayed away from the group? He wasn't sure. But then again, it didn't really matter. You cared about him. So much that you became sick with worry when the possibility of something bad happening to him arose.

The thought alone brought a smile to his face, making the skin crinkle around his eyes.

You would never get enough of that sight.

"I promise, I will try my very best to do exactly that", Aragon answered before he paused, thinking about whether he should make you an offer or not. He decided to take the risk. "Maybe, next time, you could accompany me."

Your eyes lit up and he knew he made the right decision. "I would love to."

His chest felt light.

The second time

You've always been someone who gave people their privacy. After all, you didn't want anyone to feel uncomfortable around you, but the way you saw Aragorn struggle right this moment made you second guess that decision.

He could feel your eyes on him. He knew you were watching him and yet, he didn't want to take the first step. He hated to be a burden which was exactly the reason why he wasn't going to ask you for help.

Maybe Legolas would assist him with applying the ointment on his back, or maybe- his train of thoughts came to a halt.

He promised you.

He promised he'd do his best to let you in, let you take care of him.

Instead of calling out your name, his eyes locked with yours and he silently pleaded you'd understand.

You did. Of course you did.

With just a few steps, you were standing next to the man, resulting in him letting out a sigh of relief.

His hair was wet from bathing in the lake closeby and the dirt that was usually decorating his face had also been washed away.

"Do you need any help?"

He's sure that he never heard a voice as sweet as yours, basically dripping with kindness.

He nodded. "If you don't mind."

A smile graced your features. "Not when it comes to you, my king."

You took the small container from Aragon's hand which was filled with ointment, made by Elrond to help heal wounds and relieve some pain.

You gestured for the ranger to sit down in front of you and he dropped to his knees without hesitation, his bare back to you.

You scooped up a bit of the tincture. "I apologise for my cold hands", you whispered before gently applying it to the ranger's skin.

He shuddered as soon as your fingers touched him and he tried to convince himself the goosebumps that arose on his skin were caused by the cold, not you.

You could feel Aragorn melt into your touch. His breath evened out and for a second, you even thought he had fallen asleep which was, truly, the only reason you started to trace over some old scars on his back, careful not to cause the ranger any pain.

"They don't hurt", he suddenly spoke and you flinched.

"I- My apologies, I didn’t... think, know- I-" You let out a huff of embarrassment, causing the crownless king to chuckle slightly.

A peaceful silence fell over you while you continued to rub the balm into Aragorn's shoulders and down his back, making sure to not only treat his more recent wounds.

"Where did you get this one", you carefully asked as you caressed a scar on his upper back.

And so, the ranger started to tell you the first story of many about life in the wilderness while you took care of him.

Both of you pretended not to notice when your lips brushed his skin every time he finished an anecdote of his life.

Even if that had been his last evening in middle earth, Aragorn would have been content. He got to spend it with you.

The third time

He didn't know how you did it. How you, despite of all the running, fighting and extreme weather conditions, managed to look absolutely breathtaking.

It was unfair, really.

Not that something as simple as one's looks impressed Aragorn, no.

It was just you he liked to look at because all he could think about were your beautiful brain and warm heart whenever his eyes fell on you.

It was his turn to stay up and keep watch of the fellowship's campsite, making sure they'd get through the night without an incident.

It was a calm night, there was no danger to be seen and although the crownless king stayed alert of their surroundings, he couldn't help but let his eyes drift to you every once in a while.

He was glad you were finally getting some well deserved rest after everything that has happened so far.

As if you could feel somebody watching you, you woke up. Keeping still, you checked the area around you without a single turn of your head.

Aragorn was keeping the night watch and you immediately felt a wave of calm wash over you. If he was sitting around so comfortably, you knew you could feel safe.

But then again, you also felt sorry for the ranger. Although he was running from his destiny, he had made it his mission to keep the whole fellowship safe and alive which was quite the heavy burden to carry.

You could see it, too. His tired eyes or the way at least one part of his body was always tense, ready to fight.

You let out a soft sigh and got up from your sleeping mat, quietly walking over to the man as you tried not to disturb the others.

"Y/N", he spoke softly, "Go back to sleep. You will need the rest."

Instead of answering, you plopped down next to him, his arm brushing yours.

"I can't lay down, pretending not to see you doubt yourself, even at night when everyone else entrusts you with everything they have. You think too much, Aragorn. Let that head of yours come to a rest."

Maybe it was the intimacy of the dark, but when you gestured for him to lay his head in your lap, he didn't fight it. Not for too long, anyway. There was some hesitation, but you looked too warm and too comfortable for him to miss out on this opportunity.

A sigh of relief left his lips as his head made contact with your thighs, the rest of his body turning into a ball.

A rare moment of vulnerability.

You were fighting your own urges for a while before finally letting your heart take over and bringing your fingers up to his head.

Carefully, you started to brush through the ranger's dark curls, removing any small knots along the way.

After a moment of fear that you might have overstepped his boundaries, your heart immediately felt lighter when you noticed him practically melting into your touch while he let out a relaxed groan.

"Does that feel good?"

Aragorn hummed and you smiled to yourself, deciding to go all in.

Your hands moved up his head, gently scratching his scalp for quite some time before massaging his temples.

You've never seen the ranger so blissed out.

Aragorn, on the other hand, couldn't remember the last time he felt so at peace. Your hands were like heaven in his hair and he wondered how they would feel holding his own hands in times of difficulty or against his cheeks while leaning in for a kiss.

He let himself indulge in those fantasies, not putting an end to them, despite the fact you weren't his.

When all this was over, he decided, he would ask you to stay with him.

The fourth time

The next time, there wasn't even hesitation. When you reunited with the man after the battle of Helm's Deep and saw him covered in blood - which wasn't his own, he assured you - you immediately pulled him aside, your hands cupping his face.

"Aragorn", you breathed and leaned your forehead against his.

"It is not over yet, Y/N", he replied as he took your hands, gently squeezing them.

"I feared for that, but let us celebrate this win. For now, let us take pride in the fact that evil did not win. There is still hope."

He grinned. "You are using my words against me, my darling."

"Someone has to", you mused, "otherwise you will never realise the power behind your words. And now sit down and let me clean your face before the blood dries completely."

He followed your instructions without any complaints.

You grabbed a bowl of water and a clean enough cloth and kneeled down in front of the king.

If it had been anyone else, you might have felt vulnerable or disrespected, but not in this situation.

You dipped the piece of fabric into the warm water before bringing it up to the king's face, gently wiping the blood off of his cheek.

His eyes were fixed on you. He wasn't sure how anyone could look so beautiful while being so focused. The urge to ease the tension between your eyebrows bubbled up in his chest and he desperately wanted to kiss that exact spot. But he couldn't. You weren't his and he still wasn't sure if you wanted to be.

Your voice interrupted his train of thoughts.

"Stop me if this is inappropriate, my king", you murmured after you had stood up and were now mere inches away from his face, brushing his hair back to clean his forehead.

He gulped, trying to ignore how nice you smelt, even during times of war and blood and how the use of his title didn't make him uncomfortable when you said it.

"No, this is nice", Aragorn finally replied and mentally scolded himself for sounding so unsure.

When you were done cleaning his face, you put the bowl down and turned back around to him.

"I can get you some more water if you wish to remove the blood from your chest."

He didn't want you to leave, but it would be selfish to ask you to stay when there were others who might need your assistance, so he shook his head.

"I am well enough, thank you for your help."

You tilted your head, eyes locking with his.

"You are too stubborn for your own good", you sighed. "Go and prepare what you have to, let us help the others, but tonight", you pointed at his chest, "tonight, we'll take a look at your torso."

Aragorn tried to surpress his smirk, failing miserably. "Yes, your majesty."

You rolled your eyes, a fond smile on your lips.

The fight was over.

Aragorn wasn't sure how to feel when all he's ever really known was blood and war and his own swords clashing against the enemys' weapons.

But it was over.

The ring had been destroyed and by some miracle, most of the good ones had made it out alive, you included.

His heart felt suddenly very heavy as his eyes landed on your form, not knowing how you envisioned your future now that the quest had been completed.

Your eyes found his and without thinking, you ran over to the king, throwing your arms around his neck.

"We won, Aragorn", you whispered into his ear and hugged the man even tighter.

It was hard to ignore the happiness bubbling up in his chest as he felt your body against his and the joy in your voice in his ears.

"My darling", he whispered and your heart skipped a beat, "stay with me. Stay by my side and let us, together, create a world of peace for the people now and the generations that will follow."

You stared at him, not believing your own ears.

Aragorn understood your silence as reluctance and took a step back.

"It seems I have misunderstood the situation when I believed you wanted to be mine as well, I apologise for the-"

Your lips crashed against his.

"No, my king." You let out a breath of relief. "It was me who did not believe your heart could want me in that way. For as long as you want me, you will have me. I'm eternally yours."

This time it was Aragorn who pressed his lips against yours, making you lose your mind with a single gesture.

"Aye, took the lad long enough to make his move", Gimli said and looked up at the elf who eyed his new-found friend.

"I told you though. They would end up together eventually."

Just like destiny intended.

#aragorn #aragorn elessar #aragorn x reader #aragorn imagine #lord of the rings #lotr #lord of the rings imagine #lotr imagine #aragorn my king #he is everything <3 #emmy writes

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tiny-tini-imagines · 7 months

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Aragorn is in love with a female human reader

So, since i wrote some headcanons about Legolas being in love with a female elf, I thought about writing some for the other members of the fellowship too. If you'd like to read diffenrent character constellations than mine, (characters, races, franchise), feel free to ask, I'd be really happy about it.

Headcanons - Lord of the rings

summary: Aragorn is in love with a female human reader

time setting: shortly after Aragorn's coronation

(added: character art, what they would say to them, or about them)

Sunrise Conversations: In the early mornings, when the kingdom is still asleep, Aragorn and you would often sit on the walls of Minas Tirith, watching the sunrise and sharing quiet conversations about your hopes and dreams for the future.

Handwritten Letters: Despite your close proximity, Aragorn takes pleasure in sending handwritten letters to you, sealed with the royal seal of Gondor. He enjoys the anticipation of your response, no matter if its by letter of in person. (He writes you every day, if he ever has to leave you for some days or other way around)

A Willing Listener: Aragorn is an attentive listener, hanging on to your every word, showing that your thoughts and feelings matter deeply to him.

Dances in the Courtyard: Occasionally, when the court is not in session, Aragorn would occasionaly sweep you into an impromptu dance in the castle's courtyard, your laughter echoing through the stone walls.

Endless Respect: Aragorn treats you with unwavering respect, valuing your opinions and decisions as equal to his own.

Shared Journeys: You embark on long rides through the countryside, exploring the lands of Gondor together, taking solace in the beauty of the kingdom and the comfort of your presence. (You'd often talk to your people, especially after thw war and try to listen and help them as best as possible, people love to see you together).

"My love, every day I am reminded of the incredible strength and grace you bring to our kingdom, and to my heart."

Regal Courtesy: As King of Gondor, he still maintains the same level of courtesy and humility with you as he would with any subject.

Shared Responsibilities: While he bears the weight of the kingdom's responsibilities, he makes sure to include you in important decisions and trusts your judgment.

"She possesses a heart as courageous as any warrior I've known, and her wisdom has guided us through many trials. Gondor is fortunate to have such a steadfast ally by its side."

Respect for Your Independence: Aragorn respects your independence and encourages you to pursue your interests and passions, even as his queen. (His loyalty to you is unwavering, and he will stand by your side through any challenge or adversity.)

Healing Touch: Aragorn tends to any injuries you sustain with a gentle touch and skilled hands, his care and concern evident in every motion.

Understanding Silences: Aragorn understands the power of shared silences, finding comfort in simply being in your presence.

The King's Lullaby: Aragorn hums a soft, ancient lullaby to you when you can't sleep, his voice a soothing balm to your soul.

The Kings's Comfort: You'd often find yourself in his arms, after a nightmare and him whispering soothing words into your ear.

"I know it was a frightening dream, but I promise, I'll chase away the shadows and keep you safe."

Gentle Affection: His gestures are filled with gentleness and affection, whether it's a tender kiss on the forehead or a warm, reassuring hand on your shoulder.

Protector and Champion: He takes his role as your protector seriously, ensuring your safety and well-being are his top priorities.

"No matter what challenges lie ahead, I want you to know that I will always be by your side, my heart forever entwined with yours."

Laughter-Filled Evenings: You share evenings filled with laughter and storytelling, surrounded by a circle of close friends and trusted advisors, reveling in the joy of being together.

His Favorite Book: Aragorn keeps a copy of the your favorite book in his personal library, its well-worn pages a testament to how deeply he values your interests. He'd often read it to you, when you have troubles falling asleep.

Moonlit Picnics: On clear nights, Aragorn arranges secret picnics in a hidden garden, the soft glow of moonlight casting a romantic atmosphere over your intimate moments. He also manages to get all your favourite foods (other things), to make you happy. (Aragorn takes pride in blending herbal teas for you, each concoction carefully chosen for its calming properties and unique flavors.)

Quality Time: He treasures the moments you spend together, whether it's a quiet evening by the fire, exploring the city, or attending formal events.

Unexpected Surprises: He enjoys surprising you with small, thoughtful gifts or spontaneous adventures, keeping the spark of romance alive.

His Crown and Her Crown: Aragorn places a small, delicate crown made of wildflowers on your head during your private moments together, (also before an offical celebration etc.), a symbol of your shared sovereignty.

Heartfelt Vows: You would exchange heartfelt vows of eternal love and commitment, sealed with a kiss under the ancient White Tree of Gondor. (When you look at each other, there's a shared understanding that you are bound together for eternity, your love enduring through everything.) - Together, you create cherished traditions, marking significant moments in your relationship with meaning and love.

"When I look at you, I see the future of Gondor, and I am filled with hope for the days to come."

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cowboymater · 1 year

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controversial opinion maybe:

I KNOW. i know. hear me out

i saw a couple edits on tiktok of mcspirk to soldier poet king and like. i’m not putting anyone on blast but good lord some of those choices made my head hurt. it’s taken me a couple days to synthesize my reasoning for the superior choice (as pictured above), but here goes:

the problem with assigning characters to soldier poet king comes when you take it at face value, flattening the paradigm to angry-sad-tired or violent-artsy-authoritative. if we want to get down to the root of it, the song is based on the threefold office of christ as priest (soldier), prophet (poet), and king. like i’m not christian, but on a textual level it gives us context: the concept that as prophet jesus gave us counsel and words of wisdom, as priest he sacrificed himself to redeem us, and as king he provides for, defends, and forgives us

maybe the most famous priest/prophet/king (& thus soldier/poet/king) allegory in all of literature is frodo, gandalf, and aragorn. frodo bears the burden, though he wishes he did not need to; gandalf offers words of wisdom and mercy; aragorn is a born leader, on the front lines with sword in hand, ready to die with his men if he must

KING: capt. james t. kirk is the easiest one to place. it is a burden and a privilege, an honor and a horror to have the lives of so many depend upon you to make the right call under fire. he makes the call. he leads the landing parties, he puts himself at the head of the charge because by god he is not about to send his men into a battle he wouldn’t fight himself. he leads—with heart when he can, steel when he must—and people follow him. bones and spock are always right behind because they believe in what he believes in, and more than that they believe in him

POET: bones serves as kirk’s emotional sounding board, his moral peer review. he lends an ear, and the word of an old country doctor who’s seen much and understands more. man has ascended to the heavens, to hurtling through the void in a glorified tin can, and it would be no great hardship to forget that our place in the universe is not that of higher life—we are not as quasi-gods, moving pieces on the great three-dimensional chessboard, but flesh and blood, and we must attend to each other. bones tempers the pure logos and rationality offered by spock; he offers grounding in this age of technology that wrinkles the fabric of reality, offers the kind of emotional intellect that cannot be taught, and has always been sorely needed

SOLDIER: this is the one where you really get tripped up by surface-level analysis. yes, spock is reserved and collected. yes, vulcans are pacifists (as you may recall, so are hobbits, and yet frodo remains the soldier in allegory)

the thing about vulcans, though, is that despite the vegan pacifism, they are warriors. it’s tangled up in their history and their DNA. the koon-ut-kal-if-fee survived through centuries of analytical dogma for a reason; even now, they cannot wholly escape their inheritance of violence. their forefathers ran the sands of vulcan green with blood. they venerate logic and condemn emotionality so that they will not

your average high-achieving vulcan, probably on the path to kolinahr, commits their lifetime to the pursuit of knowledge at the vulcan science academy. it’s a measured, rational decision. a controlled environment, where there will never be any logical reason to resort to violence

spock joins starfleet

he joins starfleet, and pursues knowledge in the vast unknowable universe. there is reason for violence, frequently. and sure, the purpose of their mission is peaceful. it’s true that spock would rather resolution be reached without force. but a soldier needs not want to be a soldier. he only needs go to war

when it comes down to blows, he will match them. he makes the sacrifice play, jumps on the grenade, goes into the radiation-soaked engineering room alone. it’s only logical, after all

spock is there to pick apart the universe, unravel the threads of logic until it all makes sense. bones is there to stitch it up. kirk is the hand that holds it all steady, the gravitational field that binds the people of the enterprise to their purpose. soldier-poet-king, commander-doctor-captain. it’s a story old as dirt, and we’ll keep telling it, i think

edit: my bad vulcans have. green blood

#puts on my “no one understands these characters like i do” hat #spock. (raucous applause)#star trek #star trek tos #star trek the original series #jim kirk #spock #bones mccoy #character analysis #soldier poet king #the oh hellos #lotr mention #longpost #mcspirk #triumvirate #txt

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jackoshadows · 1 month

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The level of utterly hypocritical discourse in the asoiaf fandom.

About Sansa:

Same person about Robb and Jon:

Same person about Dany:

I simply love how there are these multipage essays and economic treatises on how Robb, Jon, Dany Et al. fuck up and fumble and are just bad leaders who don't enforce wage regulations and clause three of the constitution in worker's rights or plan army discipline and Jon is apparently just an 'angry teenager' unfit for leadership etc.

But Sansa? QUEEN IN THE NORTH because she's the blood of Winterfell! ITS WHAT SHE DESERVES NARRATIVELY.

And Sansa, who is currently 13, should be queen because the narrative says so! When, according to the same person, 16 year olds Jon and Robb fuck up as they are too young to be good rulers as per the same narrative that tells them that Sansa will be Queen...

That's what the narrative is telling us - that characters can become the best rulers/leaders simply because of their blood and has nothing to do with experience and learning and wisdom and hey look at Dany, Robb and Jon fucking up when Sansa will magically, simply be the best - the NARRATIVE SAYS SO!

Meanwhile GRRM on ruling:

One thing that I am trying to get at in the books, the political aspect if you would, is to kind of show that this stuff is hard. I think that an awful lot of fantasy and even some great fantasy falls under the mistake of assuming that a good man would be a good king and all that is necessary is to be a decent human being and then when you are king everything will go swimmingly. Tolkien is great but we never get into the nitty gritty of Aragorn ruling. What is his tax policy? How does he feel about crop rotation? How does he handle land disputes between two nobles, both of whom think that they should have the village, so they burn it down to establish their claim. This is the hard part of ruling be it in the middle ages or now. It’s not enough to be a good man to be an effective ruler. It’s complicated and it’s hard and I wanted to show that with repeated examples in my books with my kings and hand of the kings - the prime minister if you would - trying to rule. And whether it be Ned Stark or Tyrion Lannister or Tywin Lannister or Daenerys Targaryen or Cersei Lannister trying to deal with the real challenges that affect anyone trying to rule the 7K or even a city like Meereen and it’s hard. You know, we can all read the books or read history and say oh, so and so was stupid and made a lot of mistakes and look at all these stupid mistakes they make. But these kind of mistakes are always much more apparent in hind sight than when you are actually faced with the decision about, oh my God, what would I do in this situation. How do I resolve this thing? Do I do the moral thing? But what about the political consequences of the moral thing? Do I do the pragmatic, cynical thing and kind of screw the people who are screwed by it? I mean, it is HARD. And I want to get to all of that - GRRM

Apparently, when it comes to Sansa, GRRM will be saying:

" I mean, it (ruling) is EASY. The food conundrums that Jon and Dany are unable to solve in entire books will be easily tackled by Sansa who will just ask everyone to bring their grain to Winterfell! Easy peasy and one and done! I mean, Sansa is the BLOOD OF WINTERFELL! "

These chucklefucks don't know the first thing about narratives and themes. The result of GRRM not writing a book in 13 years is wading through shite like this.

#fandom nonsense

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centrally-unplanned · 2 years

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Rings of Power episode 6 absolutely eviscerated some of the tepid goodwill the show had slowly been building in 4 and 5, the chickens of the show’s slapdash worldbuilding have come home to roost.

The cavalry charge is the worst of it - poor townsfolk of the southlands losing to the orc army, All Hope Is Lost, and then at the last minute Galadriel & Numenorians ride in to save the day! Its just like the Rohirrim in ROTK, right? But none of the work has been put in to have it make a lick of sense. The townsfolk *never communicated with any outside party* about the orc raids. Galadriel has never been to the Southlands, has never met any of these people. She knows, and convinces the Numenorians, that ~something~ involving Sauron is happening down there. They know orcs are there and killed people in the past, but not, like, actively, right now. Where they would be? Who knows? What are they up to now? Who knows!

Yet the Numenorean expeditionary force of only 300-500 men lands in the Southlands somewhere (which btw is Gondor & Mordor combined, to get how large it is), and immediately hard ride, stampede tempo, off to save this town they have never heard of and have no contact with. Absolutely ludicrous, there is never even an attempt to justify this.

Its just one of many baffling decisions too - Halbrand, the exiled Southlands royalty, arrives as part of that army and everyone in the town goes All Hail Our Lost King and...they have literally never mentioned a king before. No “ah in the old days the kings would have stopped this” or “if only we had a true leader”, no nothing, they are an anarcho-syndicalist commune and always have been until discount Aragorn shows up and suddenly they are fookin kneelers.

The show is obviously unconcerned with the idea of things making sense, but i’ll take a stab at why its so bad on this front. Certainly the “surprise” factor plays in here - the show is obsessed with the idea of ‘twists’, thinking that if you know something is coming its not exciting. Its ironic that they tried to play that card for a cavalry charge, because their predecessor LOTR is the shining example of the opposite being true. The Ride of the Rohirrim is painstakingly built to, the mustering, the tactical planning, the personal emotional stakes, pre-battle speech, all of that builds up impact. They have learned every lesson wrong here.

But it does go deeper, to the ‘structure’ of a fantasy epic Rings of Power believes it has to align to, in particular having a “common folk” perspective. One of the really shoddy worldbuilding choices was for the Southlands to have no political organization whatsoever - no lord mayor, no council, no standing army, nothing. It makes no sense, until you realize the rules: the show must have some working-class folk who rise to power. Bronwyn the human villager and her guard elf lover Arondir serve that role, nobodies who lead peasants against the orcs. But them leading the peasants never made any sense; why didn’t they have existing leaders? Bronwyn in particular has absolutely no qualifications for the role whatsoever, besides inexplicably being the only townsperson to own dyed fabric and a dress with spaghetti straps, but she double-plus has to lead because Girlbosses Slay and her and Miriel needed to fistbump over their diversity wins. However, if the Southlands had an existing political structure, that would be hard to swing in six episodes...so it just doesn’t. Bronwyn leads by sheer inertia.

Which means the Southlands has no political org, which means it has no political ties, no connections, no infrastructure, no ambassadors. It can’t send out word to neighboring kingdoms requesting aid, Bronwyn doesn’t even know what those are. It can’t have a real strategy as its borders and assets don’t exist. Its an extremely foolish decision, its writing a political story (war is politics) without any political actors, to hit a storytelling quota, and it really really shows.

...also the black sword artifact, which Adar and everyone is fighting over due to its mystical properties, turns out to be a key for a dam lock that refloods a river leading to a volcano. Writers of this show, I don’t know how to tell you this, but dams? Are not magic? If you wanted to unlock a dam, you can just *do that with the dam unlocking mechanism*, you don’t need a magic black sword that sucks the blood of its wielder. Its completely useless, a total non sequitur, I cannot believe they wasted our time with that. Such a dropped ball.

#rings of power

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heliads · 10 months

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To Be You

Eowyn knows the bitter resentment of being left behind when the forced of Rohan ride off to fight in battle. She is less familiar with what to do when a newcomer, Y/N L/N is allowed to fight, or how Eowyn should feel about her.

masterlist

Eowyn is not happy about being left behind.

She rarely is; too many hunting trips have been conducted by her brother without her riding beside them, and a great number of attacks against orcs or other monstrous beings have been led by her uncle and accompanied by every capable fighter save Eowyn herself. She is not unused to being alone, minding the house while everyone is away, but it does not mean that she has to like it.

This time is no exception. It is one thing to be forced to forgo a hunting party or horseback patrol, but this is different, this was a battle to save her home, and she was not there to protect it. Eomer was away, but allowed to fight in a different manner, Theoden was there alongside all other soldiers and adventurers both, but Eowyn herself was not. It would be cruel, were it not for the fact that she is constantly assured these sorts of decisions are only ever made in her best interest.

Eowyn does not want her manner to be considered like this, nor her charm or emotional state or anything like that. She wants to fight, not wait under the White Mountains with the rest of the people of Edoras as her friends and family killed orcs and brutes and monsters. Has she not been trained with the sword just like any other? Is she not worthy of battle to save the land she loves?

It’s becoming ridiculous. Her entire life seems like a game played by the men around her– Eowyn may be taught the sword but never be allowed to use it, she can imagine leading her people but never wear the crown of a king. She is left spinning in circles, waiting for an enemy to attack, but always having others break their necks to save her from the possibility of peril.

She’s gone along with them now anyway, camped near Dunharrow with the rest of the fighting men. There will be a new battle to come, as there always is, and Eowyn can sense the way it will go without the gift of prophecy. She will beg to fight and be rejected, told that she will be most useful staying behind and waiting to save those who need it. No matter how willing Eowyn is to lay her life on the line, she will not be permitted to come within sight of a battleground.

To distract herself from the fury curling inside her lungs like a flame, Eowyn takes it upon herself to do what she can to protect her people. There are soldiers that will need medical attention, men who have damaged weapons and need new ones, horses who must be looked after. Dunharrow is a busy camp, and Eowyn can make it busier if need be.

She’s interrupted not long into the night by a group of warriors riding up. She recognizes the leader instantly– Aragorn, Ranger of the North, protector of the hobbits and now Rohan as well. Aragorn dismounts from his steed with the ease of years of practice, then gestures to the riders behind him after exchanging basic pleasantries and expressions of concern for injuries possibly sustained. Not that Eowyn could have been in any sort of situation to warrant an injury, of course, but the concern is kind.

“I’d like you to meet some of my traveling companions,” Aragorn tells her.

Eowyn furrows her brow. She’s met most of them already, the dwarf and the elf and the wizard, plus heard of hobbits and men that graced their journey already.

When she tells Aragorn as much, he chuckles and shakes his head. “No, no. There is one more to our numbers, a friend we happened to meet along the way. You’ll like them, I think.”

His favor is enough to guarantee a good impression on Eowyn, and she turns to greet this mysterious friend as they dismount from their horse. They must have come straight from some sort of battle, for their helmet is still on their head, and their hand has stayed on the hilt of their sword this entire time, evidence of recent use. A fighter, then. Good.

She’s about to treat this as a normal introduction, another soldier come to pledge aid to Rohan or at least not declare themselves an enemy of it. And then this rider, Aragorn’s favored warrior, takes off their helmet, and Eowyn realizes something about them that she hadn’t noticed before.

This is a woman. And– Eowyn is furious about it.

She shouldn’t be. Obviously. This is proof that she should be allowed to fight to save her people after all. If someone else can do it, so can she. Instead, Eowyn feels a ripple of unrighteous indignation bleed through her. All this time, she’s been pleading for a chance to put her sword to good use, and another girl was doing it anyway? And likely at the very same battle that her uncle and brother fought in just hours ago?

It makes Eowyn want to scream. So the problem is her, then, not just the fact that she’s a woman. The world sees no problem with allowing this woman to fight, but throws every obstacle in Eowyn’s path just because. Disregarding Aragorn’s good faith in an instant, Eowyn resolves herself to nothing but hatred and bitter jealousy. Does the woman deserve it? Likely not, but she’ll receive it anyway.

All of this passes through her head in an instant, then Eowyn swallows it down and out of sight. She musters up the strength to nod at the woman in greeting, to introduce herself by name and hear this opponent of hers in return. Y/N L/N. So that’s who Eowyn must triumph over to prove herself worthy of the battlefield.

Eowyn would like to hate Y/N quite a bit, and so she does. Y/N does make it quite difficult to hold a grudge, though. It takes every bit of Eowyn’s stubbornness to keep that spark of fury afloat. The moment she feels tempted to yield, though, Eowyn only thinks of the battles in which she could have participated, all the times Rohan needed her and she had not been allowed to aid. This is what Y/N has, what Eowyn likely never will. After such musings, the anger returns in a flash.

Y/N is good, though. Even Eowyn can admit that. She pledges her help in an instant, and with Aragorn and the rest of the Fellowship there to back her up, Theoden accepts her support with minor waffling. Eowyn watches from the corner, seething, but also notes Y/N’s easy manner of address, how she’s able to build rapport with the other soldiers in mere minutes. By the end of that night, Y/N’s managed to win over at least two thirds of the camp with pleasant conversation and descriptions of bloody exploits won in the past.

Eowyn watches her the next morning and night as well. Y/N stays with the camp even after Aragorn, Gimli, and Legolas go off to the Paths of the Dead for some unknown mission. Y/N claims it’s because she was never actually a part of the Fellowship, just a passing friend who happened to run into them and pledge her aid for the land and people who needed it.

Y/N says a lot, actually. She talks about how she first received her training, her first battle, how she’s been unable to accept a ‘no’ when she hears it but puts herself out there anyway. It’s not like Eowyn is asking, or she hadn’t meant to, not at the start, but. Maybe if it works for Y/N, it’ll work for Eowyn too. That could be the only reason that Eowyn would want to listen.

Not for anything else, of course. Eowyn polishes her hatred like a blade, refines it until it’s sharp and shining. Y/N is there a lot, always helping out around the camp, and their paths frequently collide. Eowyn lets her resentment steep through her like hot tea. She can’t sleep one night and takes over a midnight watch. Y/N is there too. They stare up at the stars. Y/N says, do you hate me in this quiet voice, like she doesn’t dare ask but has to know anyway. Eowyn doesn’t answer immediately but stands and looks skyward. Y/N whispers again into the silence, would it make it easier if you did?

They don’t bring it up again. It doesn’t have to be said. Eowyn can’t explain why the syllables knotted in her throat, stopping her from confirming or denying Y/N’s query. Perhaps even Eowyn does not know the answer. Perhaps none of them do. Rohan picks up camp, moves closer to the gates of Mordor so they can aid in the end of the world. Eowyn begs to be allowed to fight, points to Y/N as a reason that she could go. She’s denied anyway.

Y/N approaches her afterwards, tells her she’s sorry with more sincerity than Eowyn thought it possible for anyone to muster. It doesn’t hurt as much as it should. It doesn’t hurt at all. Y/N tells her that she can find a way to protect the people she cares about if she wants it enough, even if it involves breaking a rule or two. Eowyn stares at her throat, the exposed expanse of it above her armor. It would be easy to place her sword there, against the beating of Y/N’s pulse. It would not make anything better, but– it would make everything different.

They fight in Pelennor Fields. It is bloody and terrible. Eowyn knows, because she dons armor and pretends to be a man. She rides alongside Merry, and they slay many a foe. It is what she expected and utterly removed from anything she’s ever experienced before. Weapons are natural in her hand, and when she stands against the Witch-king, dark and awful being, she slays him.

It takes everything in her and then some. Eowyn knows little of what passed after that, only what was told to her afterwards. She fell on the dusty ground, sword clattering from her hand. She had done what was necessary to kill the beast, but it almost killed her, too. She was found and brought back to the Houses of Healing, where her life hovered on the threshold of passing on until Aragorn saved her.

And then, when she was well enough to sit up in bed and receive visitors, someone came to check if she’s alright. It’s not who she expected, but for some reason the sight of Y/N L/N hovering beside her door fills Eowyn with a rush of relief and she eagerly gestures for the other woman to come in.

“I was afraid you had died,” Eowyn confesses, “No one would tell me a word of what had happened to you.”

“Few knew,” Y/N admits wryly. “I was deep within the fight and took my time in stamping out the last of the enemy before I returned. I hurried here immediately when I heard of your condition, though. I feared the worst.”

Eowyn finds it within herself to smile. “I am well. Well enough to live, at least. Not to fight.”

Y/N nods, but she still seems incapable of relaxing. Her fingers fidget with the rings of her chainmail shirt, the stitching on her belt. “I was worried that I was going to lose you. There was so much I wanted to tell you. You never answered my question at the camp. I thought you were going to die without ever saying what you needed.”

It takes Eowyn a moment to place the question Y/N references, and then she recalls it at last. The nighttime watch, Y/N’s voice threading through the dark. Do you hate me?

Eowyn leans back against the multitude of pillows Eomer managed to find out of who knows where, thinking it over. She had, at first. She thought she did, at least. But then again– was that hatred, really? To look at someone and wish to be their equal? To watch their figure every time they passed before her eyes? To fear for her safety more than Eowyn feared for her own?

Then, more pressingly, Eowyn considers her feelings as of late, not just at the start. Hearing Y/N urge her to fight was the last bit of courage Eowyn needed. It made no sense why Eowyn would need her approval even more than her own, but it did a little. And, when Eowyn was dying on the ground, she thought not of her family, but her. A woman she’d just met, of crucial consequence that the idea of her would carry Eowyn off to the embrace of death.

“No,” Eowyn whispers at last, “I do not. I could not if I tried.” It would kill her, perhaps, to keep cutting off the one person she wants more than anything. Even more than a sword.

Relief colors Y/N’s face. “Good. I had thought– I had feared–” She breaks off, looking away, then: “I love you. I do not need you to do the same, I just want to know that you do not despise the thought of me doing so.”

Eowyn’s eyes widen. To think it is one thing, but to hear it spoken aloud is something else entirely. “I love you too.”

Y/N smiles, and if Eowyn were not completely certain of the change in her feelings, she is fully convinced of it now. She had never truly understood the poets nor the performers who sang of love as if it were a tangible thing, something that would be felt from the stirrings of one’s heart until they could only be sure of their love and nothing else. She understands it completely now. What Eowyn feels for Y/N is strong and devastating and lovely all at once. It is more compelling than a lifetime of battles fought. It is all that she has ever needed, and all that she will need. It is enough. They both are.

tolkien tag list: @rogueanschel, @retvenkos, @gods-fools-heroes, @crazyhearttragedy

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brigwife · 5 days

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Feel free to ignore this if it’s not something you have thoughts on (or, obviously, ignore it for any other reason you want!) BUT in a world where Borodred happened but they DIDN’T die and other LOTR events turned out more or less the same (so Théoden is dead and Théodred is king, Denethor is dead but it doesn’t matter because Aragorn retook the throne)…what are Théodred and Boromir doing post-war? Is Boromir living in Rohan as the king’s consort? Is Théodred abdicating to Éomer and running away with his man to somewhere else? Something entirely different?

Hello, thank you for asking! ❤

Bear in mind this is just one headcanon - I'm always open to having multiple conflicting ones. This is just probably my favourite:

I quite like the idea that despite surviving, Théodred did sustain injuries bad enough that he was kept out of action for the rest of the War of the Ring (It was destroyed only a month after the first battle of Isen, after all). I'm thinking along the terms of loss of limb, amputated either by orcs or after infection. What can I say, I love to hurt this boy. Also, I imagine that in this scenario he would have been taken back to Helm's Deep to be treated as it's much closer than Edoras, and that just adds a whole new dimension to Théoden's decision to flee there - because I can see him thinking "Well if they DO breach the Keep we're probably all dead anyway, but at least I shall be with my son". Aaaahh. Feelings.

Now I'm not saying that Rohan would consider a cripple unfit to rule because I don't think that's true, but it would keep Éomer in the position of proving himself as a leader and a warrior of great renown while his cousin is incapacitated, as well as developing his friendship with Aragorn. And this version of Théodred at least doesn't really want to be King - it's more of a burden than an honour. So he and Éomer end up in this awkward impasse where Théodred wants to abdicate but feels too much guilt to admit it, while Éomer is happy to take the mantle but feels dishonourable taking his cousin's birthright.

Then enter Boromir. I think after the War he would feel very much at a loose end. The job he had trained for his whole life has basically disappeared, or at least changed beyond recognition. He is as we know a man of action who is dearly attached to his home and people, and probably wouldn't be happy to entirely give up his roots - even for one he loves as devotedly as Théodred. Neverthess, I think it would be healthy to get him out of Minas Tirith and King Elessar's shadow (especially if in this scenario he still attacked Frodo, because I think Aragorn's presence would be a constant reminder of his weakness). So if Faramir is the Prince of Ithilien, I propose making Boromir the Prince of Anórien.

Now I feel like Éomer and Aragorn aren't stupid - they know that there is something going on between these two men that they dearly love, and after they get the truth that is the catalyst to Théodred finally giving up the throne. He and Boromir settle near Halifirien, where they are given the task of cultivating the friendship between Gondor and Rohan, something that I feel Éomer and Aragorn both feel very passionate about. They found a new town together which is home to peoples of both nations, as well as a new, much-needed stopping point for travellers. Boromir can set about clearing out what remains of the orcs in the White Mountains, and Théodred One-Foot can act as Mayor of the town, hobbling around and making friends and petting horses to his heart's content.

In my mind, Gondor is definitely the more homophobic of the two nations, but it's more something that people just kind of refuse to acknowledge, rather than actively condemn. Many of the townsfolk do wonder at the closeness of these two lords who for some reason also share a house, and why neither of them ever takes a wife, but it feels rude to ask questions. The maids know though of course, because the maids know everything.

#lotr #borodred #boromir #theodred #théodred #aragorn #éomer #post war of the ring #headcanons #i just love them your honour

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blueopinions49 · 9 months

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Healthy/Unhealthy INFJ

1.Bonnie Bennett

-Overall incredibly developed functions and healthy of use of her NiFe. She also doesn't seem to struggle with her Se that much. She also knows how to use her FeTi in balanced manners without letting one get the better of the other.

2.Lexi Howard

-Healthy use of all of her functions a bit detached from her Se and sometimes doesn't truly account for things fully i.e the play. However she usually means well and the things she fails it comes from immaturity not any sense of evil.

3.Aragorn

-Fairly average use of his NiFe and seems to understand his Ti slightly better. His Se isn't that bad however he doesn't seem to care for it all the time. Overall average use of all of his functions usually well meaning . Always managing his idealism and reality when it comes to his decision making.

4.Edward Cullen

-Unhealthy use of NiFe always presuming what others needs are. Constantly ignoring what Bella truly desires for what he thinks its actually good for her (Ex-ignoring her desire to turn, leaving her heartbroken in Forbes and constantly demeaning her opinions and desires) . Detached from his Se he rarely takes into account the immediate impact his choices have on Bellas life.

5.Diane Nyugen

-Stuck in an NiTi loop for most of the series truly not getting to be content with herself. She is also quite detached from her Se never truly getting to enjoy the moment and having grounded expectations of her life.

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velvet4510 · 10 days

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The thing about Éowyn giving up being a shieldmaiden is that those who complain about it are entirely missing the point.

What she truly wants is not to specifically fight and kill and kick ass in battle. All those things are representations of her actual desire: to be recognized.

She is constantly being cast aside and forced into the corner and left behind, and she wants to actually leave an impactful mark, a legacy, which the society of Rohan will not permit her to create. She directly tells Aragorn that she wants to do great deeds, and she is most afraid of losing her chance to do anything meaningful with massive ripple effects. She has the very human and very relatable need to be seen and noticed and remembered.

She sees all these warriors achieving glory and becoming the subjects of songs on the battlefield, so she thinks that’s her only way. And she fears that once the war is over, there will be no other way, that it will all go back to the way it was for her.

Then by the end, she learns that’s not true. She can do great deeds and achieve recognition post-war, and she does.

She becomes the Princess of Ithilien, a land decimated by war which means she and Faramir essentially get to start from scratch in rebuilding the land and the society. As Faramir’s equal partner, it is up to her, as much as it is up to him, to make the land beautiful again, to decide how it should be run, to mentor the younger generation to take proper care of it all. She can introduce horses to the land and teach people to ride. She can teach self-defense because everyone needs to know that kind of stuff. She can do so many things and make so many major decisions for the benefit of so many people who look up to her and need her.

And above all, Éowyn can shape Ithilien to be what Rohan never was to her: a place where all women are seen and heard and respected.

And the best part is, she gets all the freedom and makes all the impact that she has always dreamed of, and yet she doesn’t have to deal with any of her responsibilities alone. While before she had no support in being Théoden’s nurse, and dealt with it all by herself, now she is surrounded by love and encouragement. She’s got Faramir there to always hold her hand. She’s got supportive friends in Aragorn, Arwen, and Merry.

Éowyn giving up being a shieldmaiden and warrior is not the equivalent of abandoning her dream; it is the equivalent of achieving her dream.

#eowyn #eowyn of rohan #eowyn x faramir #lotr #jrr tolkien #lotr books #lord of the rings #tolkien legendarium #third age #fourth age #ithilien #lotr eowyn #farawyn #rohan #faramir #theoden #aragorn #arwen #merry brandybuck

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thetempleofthemasaigoddess · 6 months

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Pilot!Boromir headcanons

Boromir x reader. NSFW!!

Friends with benefits to lovers; obviously modern AU.

This was inspired by this post, and me remembering about Sean Bean's role in Flightplan. Eru, this man looks so good in a pilot uniform...

*****

✈️ His father is an important politician and/or entrepreneur, and Boromir was supposed to follow in his footsteps, but he has always wanted to be a pilot, fly and spend his life in the sky; as a consequence, as soon as he was of age he enlisted in Gondor's Air Force to pursue a military carreer as a pilot. This caused an unexpected, unprecedented rift between father and son, but since Boromir swore that if his father tried to stop him, he would leave and never return home, Denethor had to grudgingly accept his son's decision, hoping in his heart Boromir would one day change his mind and take the place his father had prepared for him.

✈️ He serves in the army for many years, becoming one of the most capable pilots in the Air Force, both in peace and in war. After a few years he is injuried during the Amon Hen Battle, where he risks his life protecting a pair of civilians in reaching his plane and then flies them to safety while a bombing is taking place around them.

✈️ After that, he decides he has had enough of the army, and his father's hopes are definitely dashed when he decides to accept his friend Aragorn's offer to work for his company, Elessar Airlines.

✈️ And this is when he meets you, a capable stewardess working for the same airline and mainly flying on long-haul routes - just like him. The first time you meet in the company's offices, for you it is not love, but lust at first sight, and how could it not? Tall and athletic, a face that is a textbook example of masculine grace (strong jaw, expressive brown eyes, the sort of nose you would normally look for on a marble statue) Boromir must be one of the most handsome men you have ever met, and when you shake hands, and you hear his deep, musical voice repeating in a murmur the name you have just given him (as if he wants to make sure he understood it correctly, or likes it so much he wants to taste it on his tongue) you immediately know your interest is fully reciprocated. "Welcome to Elessar Airlines, mr. Hurin; I'm sure you'll enjoy working with us." "Thank you. I look forward to working with you, miss (last name)."

✈️ You work together on three flights in the following six weeks, which gives you the opportunity to break the ice and get to know each other. You are impressed with his past as a military pilot, which he shares with the sort of quiet, down-to-earth pride of a man happy to have done his duty and who because of this doesn't look for praises or compliments, and with the clear affection in his voice when he speaks of his younger brother, Faramir (who is pursuing a carreer as a diplomat) since your relationship with your own siblings is much less close and affectionate. On his part, Boromir listens with interest when you tell him about your job or your interests, discovering he can't take his eyes off you while you talk.

✈️ You are sharing a drink at the airport bar one evening, waiting for boarding time, when his leg brushes against yours under the counter; you smile, immediately sure he did it on purpose, and Boromir smiles back, aware you are both thinking about the same thing. "We have about thirty minutes before we need to get on board." he murmurs, his face suddenly so close to yours you can feel his breath on your face, and you feel yourself shivering "How about we... find somewhere a little more private?"

✈️ You immediately, and happily, accept, and a minute later Boromir is closing the door of the (fortunately empty) pilot lounge behind you, your bodies already flushed against each other, your mouth pressed against his in a breath-taking, hungry kiss. "Eru." Boromir murmurs; his hands are moving frantically on your body, caressing, stimulating, and making you wish your neatly pressed uniform were not in the way "You are driving me crazy, I have wanted you since the very moment I saw you..." "You can have me." you answer in a moan, already drunk with desire; your back pressed against the wall, you lift your leg around Boromir's hips, pressing your pelvis against him and feeling him already hard from you "Please... please, I need you inside me..."

✈️ Unfortunately, Boromir's phone and yours ring almost at the same time, calling you both on board sooner than expected for a consultation with the rest of the crew you'll be flying with; by then, you are sitting in Boromir's lap, your panties on the floor and your mouth on his naked chest, and stopping and composing yourselves requires a tremendous effort. "Listen, I'm sorry as well." you murmur as you kiss him once more while Boromir puts his jacket on, feeling as unsatisfied as he looks "But we'll have time. I'll have a room by myself at the hotel when we land; you could come visit me."

✈️ That brings a smile on Boromir's lips. You leave the room and meet with the rest of the crew, the co-pilot and the two male stewards who have no idea you are still wet and he has a semi as you take care of pre-boarding, and you share a secret smile before Boromir leaves to reach the cock-pit and you wait for the passengers. You are both too professional, and aware of the risks, to slip away during the flight, even though all the planes have a tiny room reserved for the crew where pilots and stewards can retire to rest; you force yourself to focus on your duties, making sure all the passengers are comfortable, checking their tickets, serving lunch and making sure they fasten their seatbelts when requested, but you can't stop thinking about him, the tall and handsome man responsible for the safety of everyone on board, and who soon, you know, will fuck you until you can't even remember your name.

✈️ After a tranquil flight, you reach the hotel where the crew will spend the night before your next shift. You have barely time to leave your luggage on the floor, take off your shoes and visit the toilet, before you hear knocking on the door. You are already trembling with desire as you open it; Boromir is there, still in his uniform except for his jacket and tie, and the desire burning in his eyes is enough to make your heart skip a beat or three. He enters and "Come to me, woman." he says opening his arms to you, and normally you are not used to passively obeying men's orders, at least when you are not working, but you feel you can make an exception for him: you jump in Boromir's arms, and you are already kissing him passionately while he carries you to the bed.

✈️ From there, things develop naturally. After that first, magical night, you ask him to meet at your place; Boromir eagerly accepts, and you spend the whole night having sex; there is an adoring light in his eyes as he holds you by the waist, his free hand playing with your nipples, his long legs entwined to yours. "My place next time?" he proposes, and you start kissing his torso, confident it will be clear enough for an answer. It seems almost too good to be true: you have found a passionate, inventive, generous lover, as hungry for you as you are for him, and no matter how many times you sleep together, you are never tired, never bored, and every time you part with a kiss, neither can wait for your next date.

✈️ You are not exactly hiding your relationship, since nothing forbids the two of you from being together, but at the same time you tacitly decide to keep it to yourselves, and you both find excitement, and fulfilment, in having sex where you could be caught, disregarding the fact that you both live alone and could therefore meet at your place or his. One day, shortly before take-off on a return flight you are working on with another pilot, Boromir sends you a text with a long, detailed description of the things he wants to do to you. You read it three times, and then you have to excuse yourself to the toilet, where you touch yourself towards a quick, powerful orgasm that nonetheless leaves you unsatisfied before going back to work on shaky legs. Five agonizing hours later Boromir is waiting for you at the gate, and you let his hand guide you to the airport's parking lot, where his car is waiting for you, and your lover makes good on all his promises, holding you by the hips while you bounce above him on the driver's seat.

✈️ Then there are the lounges. The airport toilettes. The hotels in foreign cities you never get to visit, and where one of your separate bedrooms is invariably left unused. One day, after a long separation (six excruciating days in which your shifts never matched, and you had to make do exchanging pictures, texts, and making each other climax with phone sex) you have him come at your place directly from the airport where he landed; Boromir is exhausted, but immediately forgets it when he finds you lying on the bed, wearing only a pair of high heels and a thong, a flute in your hand. Would you like some champagne, sir?, you ask in your professional voice, and that is the night you discover it is physically possible for a man to come four times in nine hours.

✈️ In the end, you join the Mile High club together. When you confess him that having sex on a plane has always been a secret desire of yours, Boromir surprises you making your dream come true... just, not when you're flying, since it would be unprofessional for a pilot to leave the cockpit after take-off, no matter how urgent the impulse he has to take care of is, and both of you'd get undoubtedly fired if discovered. A couple of guys working for the company's security service owe him a favour, and one night you and your lover slip on board of a plane grounded for security reasons. You kiss desperately as you walk along the carpet-covered corridor towards the first class area, and make love on the pilot's chair, him sitting and you riding him like you both like, and then against the instrument panel, your thighs around his waist and your mouth finding his in a sloppy but passionate kiss. You whisper his name, you moan it, you cry it; no one hears, fortunately, since you're the only two people on the whole runway, but he does, and that is what really matters.

✈️ He is not into toys, and being tied up is too frustrating for a man used to always retain control on things around him. On the other hand, he is happy to indulge your preferences, be it exchanging hot photos when you're in public, or sucking on your breasts until they hurt.

✈️ If you want to make him hard, you call him mr. Hurin, in a sultry tone you quickly learn to use when you are together. If you want to make him come within two minutes, you call him sir. If you want to make him forget his own name, you call him captain, and prepare yourself to walk funny on the next day.

✈️ You like both giving and receiving oral sex, Boromir enjoys being sucked, but obliged when you ask him to return the favour, and discovers he is naturally talented. He likes anal sex, but at the same time wants to look at you in the eyes while he takes you, and thus you prefer to do it standing, leaning against a chest of drawers in your bedroom, in front of a large oval mirror; his lips leave a trail of fire on your skin, and no matter how exhausted he is, he always takes you in his arms to carry you to the bed. "Are you all right?" he gently asks, chastely kissing your forehead before lying next to you; he always asks, no matter how enthusiastically you took part in your lovemaking, and you always nod, and then happily snuggle against his side.

✈️ He asks you once, out of curiosity, if you'd like to open your relationship to a third partner, provided you find someone you both like and can trust. "Absolutely not." you decisively ask as you caress his chest; you don't even have to ask whether the third partner would be a male or a female, because it would change nothing "I only want you, and I want you to have eyes only for me when we are together. Please, let's not talk about it anymore." Boromir obeys; he doesn't express his own opinion on the matter, but he seems satisfied of your answer.

✈️ He likes seeing you in your stewardess uniform, so much that sometimes you surprise him wearing it when he visits you, after you have taken off your bra and panties underneath. Lingerie excites him, and since you refuse to accept money from him, even if as a simple gift, he buys you things he'd like to see on you; when you meet at work, he imagines you wearing his gifts under your uniform, and can't wait to take it off you. Once, you leave a pair of lacy panties under his pillow, as a surprise for when he'll wake up; he carries it with him in his pocket for the whole day, before cornering you in the company's parking lot. I think you left this at my place last night, he says after a long, trembling kiss, your body pressed between his and the door of your car, do you want it back? Or shall I teach you to take good care of the things you are gifted?

✈️ One day after a particularly memorable night, you realize you have scratched his back with your nails; Boromir doesn't mind, so lost in the world of pleasure you had created together he hadn't even felt the pain, and after a moment of guilt you feel quite proud of it, and happy at the thought he is carrying a sign of your passion on his skin, evident enough anyone who sees him would realize. Emboldened, you start biting his neck as you kiss, not so hard that it hurts but enough to leave a bruise, and two days later, when you join your colleagues at the airport for a new flight, you hear an older steward ask Boromir if he is sick, since he's wearing an heavy scarf over his shirt. Just a cold, your lover answers, impassible, and when your gazes meet he tries to scowl at you, but he ends up smiling as he sees you laughing behind your hand.

✈️ Everything is going great between the two of you. You sleep together at least three times a week, either at his or at your house, and while most of your dates begin in the bedroom, you soon discover you sincerely enjoy each other's company; you like falling asleep in your lovers' arms, his body keeping you warm better than the heaviest blanket, while Boromir enjoys resting his cheek on your chest and feeling you play with his hair. You enjoy long talkes, freely discussing personal matters as well as work issues; Boromir appreciates you are not wont to gossip, while you like he actually cares about your point of view as a stewardess, unlike other pilots who consider the other company employees beneath them. Yes, everything is going great, and six months after that first, magical night in the hotel room, you are still completely crazy about each other, fully satisfied of that (initially) purely sexual, no strings attached, relationship... and at the same time, finding yourselves wanting more.

✈️ Boromir is jealous. Naturally protective, and often possessive, of the people he cares for, Boromir finds himself hating every man who approaches you or that he suspects is interested in you, even if he has no reason to fear for your safety. He knows he has no right to feel that way, since you are not dating or anything and never even talked about making your sexual relationship exclusive, but he can't help it, and the simple thought of someone else touching you like he does, or worse, making you feel pleasure like he is so proud he has done for months, makes him see red. He has to bit his tongue to stop himself from asking about it any time he hears a masculine voice coming from your phone, he tries to discover who among the male colleagues you are friends with is single and could as a consequence pose a threat, and that time a wealthy passenger buys a costly perfume from the onboard shopping catalog and then gifts it to you together with his number on a piece of paper, he feels the irresistible urge to throw that cretin off the plane, even as he sees you politely refusing both offers, since the company guidelines forbid you from accepting gifts from passengers. Is this the only reason you declined?, he can't stop wondering, and would you have accepted otherwise? Is there already someone else in your life, someone you see when you're not with him, someone you like more than him and who could one day take you away from him...?

✈️ Your fears are different, albeit equally deep and distressing, and mainly concern the possibility your lover grows tired of you. After all you have slept together for months already, and no matter how intense the connection between you is, how passionate your lovemaking and how often he whispers in your ear you are so beautiful, so good for me, so tight and hot, and how amazing you feel when he's inside you and that no one has ever made him come so hard, sooner or later inevitably enthusiasm dwindles and boredom sets in; Boromir is an attractive man, you have seen passengers (of all ages, and all genders) giggling and looking at him with admirations on every single flight you have worked on together, and many of your fellow stewardesses likewise make no secret of their attraction. What if eventually someone catches his attention? Someone more beautiful, and younger than you, or pursuing whom provides a more exciting past-time than your by now established relationship? You are not tired of him (you have come to suspect you never will be) and there is nothing you wouldn't do to keep him by your side, but you can't stop fearing one day you will lose him...

✈️ Soon, you both realize you have developed feelings for each other, a discovery that does not surprise you (good, and even exceptional, sex does not necessarily translate in love, but what has been born between the two of you was too intense, too special and intimate and deep not to affect your heart) but that puts you both in a predicament. Could each of you confess your feelings to the other person, potentially finding out they did not reciprocate? You had never spoken much about your relationship, to give it a name or establish rules for something that made you both happy and satisfied, and while you had not explicitly decided to keep what there is behind you strictly physical, neither of you had ever said or done anything that could led the other to suspect a desire, or even just a willingness, to transform your acquaintance in a romantic relationship - a committed, serious romantic relationship, because this is what both of you had come to desire. If it came out you wanted different things from your rapport, could you ignore it and go back to being simply friends with benefits? It would be good (it would be great) even though you couldn't help wishing for more, and in the secret of your hearts you both think anything would be preferable to lose each other. But what if you simply couldn't go on like you had, and disappointment and bitterness ended up separating you? What if the one who did not reciprocate their lover's feelings ended up falling for someone else?

✈️ Neither of you could be described as a timorous person. As a pilot, and a former military pilot at that, Boromir had been prepared to make potentially vital decisions in the span of a minute, and you had likewise never allowed fear and uncertainty to guide you. Still, as you keep meeting for the best sex of your lives, sharing intimacy and secrets and laughs and pleasure, you both decide what you share is too important, too precious and special, to risk it... even if it could mean the beginning of something even more marvellous.

✈️ In the end, the solution of your quandary is found not by you, nor by your handsome lover. You had not spoken about your relationship with Boromir to anyone else, more because it was simply a matter that only concerned the two of you than because you had to keep it secret, and your dearest friends simply know there is someone in your life who makes you very happy. He, on the other hand, is an even more private person, disinclined to discuss his personal matters… except with the person he trusts the most in the world, and with whom he has no secrets. "I have been seeing a woman." he confesses one night he and his brother have met for drinks in their favourite pub and remained there for hours just talking as usual, indifferent to everything and everyone around them. The pub is a nice place, he reflects, mainly frequented by men, but one day, it would be nice to bring you there, and have you taste his favourite drink… "I have met her on the job, she's a stewardess, and… she's amazing, Faramir. I have desired her since the moment we shook hands, and for… nine months now we have been having sex, the best of my life, I never even thought I could feel like this… she's everything I have ever wanted in a woman, in a partner, and then some." "Then why the long face?" Faramir, who has started dating his future wife Éowyn three weeks ago, asks, and he listens intently as his brother confesses his fears (something Boromir has never been good at doing) that the woman he has grown to care for so much does not reciprocate his feelings, would break up with him if she knew they want different things from their relationship, and could one day, worst of all, fall for someone else.

✈️ "Do you love her?" "I don't know; I have never been in love before, but I have never felt anything like what I feel for her, so yes, it might be love." Boromir says, shrugging; he doesn't care about names and labels, but he knows he wants more, he wants all of her and wants her to have all of him. He wants to share more than her bed and the warmth of her body; he wants to stop fearing he could lose her any day, if only someone else catches her gaze "I think… in time, I will grow to love her very much. But I don't know if she feels the same, she's very affectionate and I know I can... I mean, that she's satisfied with what we have now; and that's the problem. Maybe she's happy like this, and she could never see me as anything but a sexual partner..."

✈️ Faramir knows his brother doesn't want to be consoled or advised on how to tackle his problem (which he would be unable to do in any case, since he doesn't know the woman his brother has developed feelings for and has no idea whether she reciprocates either); what he needs is to be listened to, and Faramir is happy to lend him his ear, intimately saddened to see his older brother so uncertain, and at risk of having his heart broken. "I'm sure you'll know what to do when the time is right." he says, and while Boromir seems actually comforted by his words, he feels he can, and as a consequence has to, do more for him...

✈️ ... which is why on the next day he visits Aragorn at the company's office, under the pretext of inviting him for dinner but in reality with a very different intent. "I know there is a stewardess here named (name); will you tell me how to find her? She is not in trouble or anything, but I can't tell you why." he asks; Aragorn decides to trust him, and luckily you are at the office right then, having had to come for a meeting with your supervisor and other stewardesses. The moment the two of you are face to face it takes you a moment to recognize him, because Boromir has a framed photo of the two of them on his bedside table, and because the man in front of you is a slightly younger, vaguely gentler version of the one you have slept with for nine months. You know he doesn't work for the company and you have no idea why he has come to see you; for a terrible moment, you fear something has happened to Boromir, but Faramir hurries to reassure you. "My brother has told me about you; believe me, I would never intrude in his personal affairs, but he cares greatly about you, much more than he has ever told you, and obviously you don't have to lie to him about your feelings to spare him the disappointment, but... but sometimes the only thing stopping two people from finding happiness is themselves, and fear. Boromir has never been afraid, never since I know him, and this is why I beg of you, take care of him, and of his feelings. I'm sure you'll know what to do when the time is right."

✈️You remain where you are, dumbstruck, while Faramir thanks you for your time and leaves; after a while, you finally move, reach your car in the parking lot and drive home, where you spend an hour walking in circle and staring at the wall, your mind possessed by a single, simple and at the same time terrifying question. Now what?

✈️ "(name)?" Boromir says, appearing in the living room in front of you, and for an absurd moment you could almost believe you were thinking about him with such intensity, you had him appear by magic. "Are you all right? The front door was open." he says as he reaches you; you had completely forgotten you had decided to meet at your place tonight, and you were so engrossed in your thoughts you hadn't realized you hadn't locked the door as usual. "Yes, I'm fine; sorry, I was... thinking." you explain as you greet him with a kiss as usual, that he gladly reciprocates. You look at him, feeling the gentle but possessive way he's already cradling your hips in his hands, the pleasant scent of his aftershave making you shiver; oh, to Mandos with it, you think, I don't want to be afraid either. "I saw your brother this afternoon." you confess as your lover has already started kissing your neck, gently biting a point on your throat he knows makes you see stars "He... hmmm... he came at the office to talk to me... about you. About what you told him last night."

✈️ Boromir reacts as if he had seen the gates of Mordor open in front of him. "I can't believe Faramir would do something like this." he murmurs, and suddenly he can't even meet your gaze "(name), I... I am sorry, it doesn't have to matter..."

"But it does; it does matter, and please, don't be angry with your brother, he was only trying to help." you explain, taking his hands in yours "And I am happy he did it; very very happy, in fact." You hesitate for a minute, searching the right words and at the same time simply enjoying the closeness of his solid, warm body; as long as you are together, you think, you'll never be afraid. "There is a party I have been invited on Sunday. It's nothing special, just a friend celebrating her birthday, but it should be nice... and I'd like you to meet my friends; and one day, if you want, I could meet yours. What... what do you think?"

More than seeing it (you can't, since you're staring at your feet) you feel him smile softly. "I'd like that." he murmurs before kissing your hair; his mouth has touched every single inch of your body, and still, no kiss has ever been sweeter than that "I'd like that very much."

#The Lord of the Rings #Boromir #Boromir son of Denethor #Sean Bean #Boromir x reader #Bellona's stuff

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