#Belanor | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

kierancaz · 2 years

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Hello mellon nìn, i have seen you are interested in writing for Legolas, sooooooooooooo if you are up to it of course, write something??

So here is my idea (this can be a headcanon if you want something short, but write how you want):

Reader is an elf (female reader pls) and she gets sick (wich is super rare for an elf) and Legolas gets super worried, and just stays with her and stuff. Just something fluff, you know.

Don't worry for mischaractherizing (idk if i wrote it correctly, lol) him.

That's all thank you!! You can ignore this, if you don't want to do it.💜

𝐒𝐢𝐜𝐤 𝐃𝐚𝐲𝐬

A/N: AHHHH THANK YOU FOR REQUESTING NEVER HAVE I GOTTEN OUT OF BED AND TO WORK SO FAST SJKDJJDJSJD but iyayah this was such a pain. I kept rewriting it to try and get it to my liking but I just couldn’t do it 😭 I HOPE YOU LIKE IT THO AND I HOPE ITS NOT TO CRINGE OR ANYTHING <3333

Warnings: possible spelling mistakes, not proof read (I wanted to get it out as soon as possible), and fluff (or as fluffy as I could make it), and I don’t know how elf housing works soooo if I got this wrong you’re gonna have to deal with it I’m sorry :’)

Synopsis: you fall ill and Legolas takes care of you.

༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻

Legolas admired you greatly. He admired how hardworking and bold you where. How you never gave up and always completed the tasks set to you. How you had such a commanding presence that people just couldn’t help but be drawn to you. In fact, that’s what had drawn him to you in the first place.

Recently though he hadn’t been able to see you. Not only because he was busy but because you where busy as well. You where always running from one place to the next only stopping in the halls for a quick hello whenever he called out to you.

Coming back from patrol one day he was greeted at the gates by a elleth that he only vaguely recognized as one of the people in your charge. You where a captain of the guard, another thing he admired about you.

“My Prince,” the elleth bowed her head politely and Legolas returned the gesture. “(Y/n) is sick, she’s been taken to the infirmary and is asking for you.”

Legolas eyes widened in shock. Sick? You where sick? How long had it been since an elf was sick? Immediately it took off to the infirmary.

He was overcome with worry. What happened? How did you get sick? How sick where you? Elves didn’t often get sick and if they did they’re was usually an on hand cure and everything was solved in a couple days so why where you asking for him? Was it really that bad that you would call for him? For a moment he wondered if you where calling for him because you where on your deathbed or something before he realized how preposterous that was.

He reached the infirmary in no time and upon entering he was more then a little stumped by what he saw. There was you, sitting on the edge of the infirmary bed looking both unwell and very upset. And then there was another elf standing before you, clearly annoyed and pinching the bridge of his nose.

You spotted him at once and grinned, “Legolas!” You said and waved him over. “You have to tell Belanor that I am perfectly fine. He won’t listen to me!”

“You don’t look ever well to me.” Legolas said as he helped bring you back to balance after you stood up. You were holding onto his shoulder tightly and swaying a bit.

“That’s because she’s not well,” Belanor interrupted. “She’s got a fever. Nothing to horrible but it’ll take a few days before she’s back to normal health and… well it might get worse before it gets better.”

“I’ll be fine! There’s absolutely nothing wrong.” You said and pushed yourself off of Legolas, as you did so you where overcome by a dizzy spell and fell back onto the bed.

“Now, since you are clearly not fine, you could either stay here in the infirmary for a few days while I watch over you. Or you could go back to your own home and have someone else take care of you. I don’t trust you to take care of yourself but I’d rather not have to deal with you any longer. Make your choice quickly please.” Belanor said and crossed his arms.

You looked up from where you had your head in your hands and glared at Belanor. You opened your mouth to make a comment about what he could possibly be busy with that he needs you to make a quick decision about this but before you could Legolas spoke up.

“I can take care of her.” He said it so casually it took both you and Belanor by surprise. Again before you could say anything you where cut off.

“Ok then,” Belanor said in a still slightly surprised tone. “Try and get her to actually rest, if the fever rises anymore put a cold rag on her head. Make sure she takes this at least twice a day,” Belanor handed him a jar. “And don’t get surprised if she gets a bit delirious or throws up. Have fun.”

He walked out of the infirmary immediately after leaving you and Legolas to blink silently at each other. “So,” Legolas began. “How did you even end up here?”

You felt heat rising in your cheeks and looked away from him. “Passed out…” you mumbled. “It wasn’t too bad, I feel better now.”

You where, in fact, lying. To save face. You didn’t want him to see you as anything other then strong and independent. You didn’t need anyone caring for you and you certainly weren’t weak enough to get sick. Though, you’ve never felt so horrible.

Your nose was stuffed up and you couldn’t breath properly, your throat was sore and swallowing hurt, and your head felt all fuzzy. A couple times you thought your vision was beginning to blur as well. It had been like that for a couple days before finally you collapsed while out on patrol and one of your friends had to carry you all the way here before you finally woke up.

Suddenly there was a hand to your forehead. You brought your eyes back to Legolas who was now standing in front of you, eyes narrowed in concentration and maybe even concern with the back of his hand resting on your forehead. “Um, what are you doing, my Prince?” You questioned.

“I think it’s a human thing.” He said and moved his hand to cup your cheek. “I’ve seen Aragorn do it to others. To check if they were sick.”

You couldn’t help but lean into his touch. Maybe you where already going delirious like Belanor said, but his hand felt so warm and soft, despite the callouses on his fingers. He brushed a strand of loose hair behind your ear.

Before you knew it you were sept off the bed. It made you a little dizzy but you couldn’t do anything but stammer and pray to the gods Legolas didn’t here or feel the pounding of your heard. “Uh, what are you doing? Where are you going?” You asked quickly.

“I’m taking you back to your house.” Legolas said simply, like this was no big deal.

“I can walk on my own you know!” You protested, wiggling around a bit. “And what if someone sees us Legolas? It would be such a pain if rumors started flying around. People can be so nosy.”

Legolas chuckled, “just a few minutes ago you were struggling to stand on your own. And so what if someone sees us? Let the rumors fly, they dare not ask me about them.”

“But they will ask me.” You protested.

“There is no need to worry mellon nìn,” Legolas said, his voice ever so light and calming. “Relax for now and let me carry you home. Just this once.”

You weren’t really in the position to argue. He was right after all. So you just hummed grumpily and rested your head against his chest.

Soon enough you had fallen asleep. Legolas hoped the sound of his heart thundering in his chest wouldn’t wake you. While he was concerned about you, he couldn’t help but think about how cute you looked.

Eventually he had reached your house. He was comfortable enough to walk in on his own and set you down on your bed. He had been to your home on more then one occasion so he was familiar with the layout.

He grabbed a bowl and filled it with water along with a towel and brought it back to where you were still sleeping. He felt your forehead again before placing a cool towel there. You opened your eyes and looked at him.

“This is completely unnecessary.” You said and then coughed.

“Mhm,” was all Legolas said and nodded.

“I mean it.” You repeated. “I don’t need looking after.”

“I believe you.” He was smiling now and all you could do was glare and pout at him. There was a long stretch of silence before you turned over.

“Feel free to leave whenever you want.” You said, and it came out rather aggressively. You couldn’t see it, but Legolas eyebrows scrunched up and the hurt he felt from your comment clear on his face.

“Ah, um, alright then, I’ll get going.” He got up and walked to your door, stoping in the doorframe. “I’ll come back tomorrow morning, don’t do anything stupid mellon nìn.”

You hummed in acknowledgment and listened as he left your home. You don’t know how much time had passed before you fell asleep that night.

#######

The next morning Legolas did as he said and made his way early over to your home. He knocked twice, waited, knocked again, and when you didn’t answer he decided to let himself in.

“(Y/n)?” He called out when he entered, but he got no response.

“(Y/n) are you here? Is everything alright?” He asked as he walked through your home before checking your bedroom.

You where having a troubled sleep. Your covers kicked all over the place, brows furrowed in distress, pale as ghost with a sheen of sweat on your forehead. Immediately he went and got a bowl and filled it with cold water and after damping a rag he placed it on your forehead. You stirred slightly at his gentle touch.

“Legolas?” You asked softly, bleary eyes beginning to open. His heart beat a little faster as he brushed away some hairs that where sticking to your cheek.

“It’s me,” he said and took the bottle of medicine that Belanor had given to him from your night stand. You groaned as he lifted your head from your pillow and tipped the medicine into your mouth. You wouldn’t drink it. He sighed, stubborn as always.

“It’ll help you feel better.” He said bringing it closer to your mouth.

“It smells gross.” You mumbled, opening your mouth just enough so he could force you to take it.

After that you fell back asleep. He stayed for a few hours, watching you go in and out of sleep, tossing and turning. Every once in a while he would have you take more medicine and replace the cloth resting on your forehead.

Eventually, you where able to form a coherent thought, and the first thing you said (that wasn’t unintelligible mumbling) was, “what’re are you still going here?”

“Ah- well, I was looking after you.” Legolas said. He didn’t understand why you felt the need to always dismiss him when he tried to care for you. There was a time when you could hardly walk due to a wound on your leg and you still refused to let him carry you. He stood up from chair, “but if you wish me to leave then I shall go—”

His sentence was cut off when as he turned away and a hand clasped his wrist. “Stay…” you said looking him dead in the eyes, barely audible, but the clarity in your eyes… “I want you to stay.”

“Alright then…” Legolas said tentatively as he sat on the edge of your bed. You didn’t let go of his hand and instead, ran your thumb thumb soothingly across his knuckles. There was a long stretch of silence where all you did was that and stare at his and your hands resting on his thigh.

“I’m sorry about what I said yesterday.” You spoke finally. “I didn’t mean it to come out that way.”

“It’s alright,” he said quietly.

“I just don’t want you to see me as weak.” Now this, this surprised him.

“Mellon nìn, how could I ever view you as weak?” He started and grasped you hand with both of his and brought it to his chest, leaning forward like he needed you to see him, to look him in the eye and really listen to him.

“Mellon nìn you are the strongest person I know! You are beautiful and talented and so incredibly strong, how could I ever view you as weak? Where on Arda could you even get this notion?”

You just blinked at him. “You think I’m beautiful?”

“Eh—” his face, plastered with a look of shock, began to flush red. After recovering he pulled away and looked off to the side, trying to conceal his rising blush. “Well I mean, you are.”

You stifled a laugh and he looked back to you, “Legolas, would you like to lay down?”

“Would you like to lay down?” You repeated slowly.

“Mellon nìn I could not—”

You laughed, “you say that and then continue to call me mellon nìn?”

“Ah, well…”

“Legolas, lay down next to me… please?” There was a small smile on your face. Legolas sighed and gave in, placing himself next to you on the bed. Immediately you rested your head on his chest and slung your arm around his waist. Gingerly, he placed his arm around your shoulders and tugged you a bit closer.

“Are you sure you haven’t gone delusional?” He asked.

You hummed contently and yawned, “I might be.”

“If I can’t call you mellon nìn anymore… what shall I call you?” He asked.

“There’s an assortment of endearing nicknames out there,” you mumbled. “Take your pick by the time I wake up.”

Not even moments later you had fallen into a comfortable sleep in his arms. He stared down at you studying your face and using his free hand to twirl stands of your hair and brush them away from your face.

“I believer there’s only one name for me to call you now,” he whispered. “Meleth nìn.”

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middleearthpixie · 10 months

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The Escape ~ Part Two

Summary: Thorin and his Company have found themselves imprisoned in Mirkwood, only to have help from one of the most unlikeliest of elves…

Pairings: Thorin Oakenshield x OFC Carys Greenleaf

Characters: Thorin, Carys Greenleaf, Thorin’s Company, Thranduíl, Legolas, Bilbo Baggins

Warnings: None

Rating: T

Word Count: 3.3k

Tag List: @mrsdurin @i-did-not-mean-to @lathalea @linasofia @fizzyxcustard @legolasbadass @kibleedibleedoo @xxbyimm @arrthurpendragon @exhausted-humxn-being @rachel1959 @laurfilijames @sketchy-loo6195 @sherala007 @enchantzz @knittastically @notlostgnome @myselfandfantasy @medusas-hairband @guardianofrivendell @jotink78 @sorisooyaa @ruthoakenshield @frosticenow @quiall321 @dianakc @buckybarnes-thorin @glassgulls @evenstaredits @heilith @asgardianhobbit98 @albionscastle @absentmindeduniverse @way-too-addicted-to-fandoms

Part One can be found here.

“You took it upon yourself to let them go, Carys?”

Thranduíl never raised his voice, but the iciness in his words was more than enough to make Carys’ stomach clench into painful knots, which in turn made her feel sick as a sweetly brackish taste flooded her mouth. Although she’d heard him use this same tone on others, such as members of his guard who disappointed him and enemies in his dungeons, he’d never used it with her before.

Swallowing hard to try to calm her roiling gut, she squared her shoulders and met his furious stare. “I did. It was wrong to hold them and you know this, Father. They did nothing to merit imprisonment.”

His eyes grew colder, his gaze unwavering. “That was not your decision to make. You deliberately went behind my back, stole from me, and let them go and I cannot forgive that.”

“I could tell you I was sorry,” she countered, shaking her head. “But it would be a lie. And if you were honest with yourself, you would agree. Why do you harbor such resentment, such hatred, toward them? What could they have possibly done to warrant it?”

“That is none of your concern.”

She stared up at him. “I do not understand this at all. You’ve never before laid eyes on this group and yet you treat them as if they were your mortal enemy. Why?”

“Again, that is not of your concern. You went against my wishes and did so deliberately and I cannot let that stand.”

She swallowed hard, her heartbeat speeding up to the point where black dots dance before her eyes. He continued to simply stare at her, and the urge to shuffle her feet, to sink her hands into her skirts and worry the velvet swept through her. She hated the suspense of waiting for his next words. “Father?”

“I need to decide how such a deliberate act should be punished, for it must be. There are consequences to such actions, Carys, and you are not a child who knew no better.”

“But—”

“Taras,” Thranduíl cut her off sharply, his gaze sliding to the guard standing to his right, “take the princess back to her chambers.”

He looked back at her. “You will wait there until I decide. Is that understood?”

“Yes, Father.”

“Good.” Thranduíl now turned to the guard on his left. “Have your captains been dispatched to round up the prisoners, Belanor?”

Carys winced as Belanor nodded. “They have. It should not be long before we have them again.”

“Good.” Thranduíl spun about to make his way out of the chamber. “So, you will return to your chambers at once and remain there until I come to a decision regarding your punishment. Is that clear?”

“Yes, Father.”

Taras caught her by the elbow. “If you would come with me, Princess.”

“I can find my own way, thank you,” she replied, jerking free and striding off, leaving him to catch up to her.

He shadowed her the entire way back to her chambers, but she ignored him, taking a great, if childish, delight in slamming the door to her chambers in his face. Then, with a soft sigh, she leaned back against it, letting her eyes close as her head thunked dully against the wood. She expected her father to be angry with him, but she did not expect the cold fury he showed. Why did he harbor such animosity for those men? What could they have possibly done to him? They were lost travelers, nothing more and nothing less. And if her father expected her to feel remorse for doing what she felt was right, he was going to be disappointed.

But at the same time, she hated waiting. Especially when she knew she was in serious trouble and somehow, she didn't think trouble could be more serious than this. Certainly, she’d never made him so angry, not that she could remember, anyway. In fact, the last time she’d seen him this angry, he’d banished the elf responsible and she had no idea whatever became of Elré. All she knew was that he was taken to the front gates, his bow and arrows were broken in front of him and he was sent off into the wilds to fend for himself. That was the last any of them saw him, as far as she knew.

Her bow and quiver of black-tipped arrows stood in the corner, where she’d put them every night before going to sleep since she was a wee girl. The thought of seeing them destroyed before her eyes was heartbreaking. She couldn’t imagine not having them within reach.

Of course, she couldn’t imagine being forced to leave her home, either, and although she didn't think her father would do something so cold, she couldn't say for certain he wouldn’t, either.

And what about the dwarves? He’d sent his best soldiers out after them. What would happen if they found the company and Thorin and his men refused to come without a fight? She had the feeling her father’s archers would have no qualms at all about riddling each member of Thorin’s company with arrows.

She couldn’t sit there and just wait for that word to come in. Her conscience wouldn’t allow that, just as it wouldn’t allow her to let the dwarves simply rot in the dungeons, either. With that in mind, she changed from her lovely, but impractical, flowing velvet gown into comfortable trousers and a warm dark green tunic that would help her blend into the woods, tugged on her favorite soft-skinned boots, and she was ready to go and see for herself.

The door was locked, as she found when she squeezed the handle. Expected but aggravating all the same. And she didn't doubt Taras was stationed right outside, either. He was her bodyguard as well as her jailer and while most times she could sweet-talk him into looking the other way while she snuck out, she had the feeling he would not be so complacent this time.

With that, she moved to lift her quiver from the floor and slid into it, then crept across the floor, mindful of the loose floorboard that creaked on occasion, toward the windows. They opened without a sound and she’d just gotten one leg over the sill when footsteps sounds beyond her door. She paused, half-in and half-out, her mind whirling with excuses she might offer up, should someone come into her chambers, until the steps receded once more.

Then, she slipped all the way out and disappeared into the forest the way Legolas taught her to do when they were children. She moved without a sound across the leaves and debris littering Mirkwood’s floor, and at her favorite tree, she caught a lower branch to effortlessly swing herself up into the branches. Moving above the forest floor was far faster, much quieter, and easier to camouflage herself, and it wasn't long before she’d reached the far end of the forest, where the Forest River wound out of Mirkwood toward the Long Lake where Esgaroth had been built. There was no sign of dwarves, or barrels, but she grimaced at the sight of dead orcs, in various stages of dismemberment strewn about like abused and neglected dolls that some giant child grew tired of playing with and just let them lay were they fell.

Easing down from her tree to the now-silent stone bridge that spanned the river, Carys’ stomach clenched at the pools of sticky black ooze that was orc blood. Her mouth painfully dry, and swallowing nearly impossible, she forced herself to look for any sign or dwarven or elf blood. There were no shattered barrels or remnants of barrels anywhere to be seen.

Hopefully that meant the dwarves made it to freedom.

She didn’t know why she cared so much about making certain they escaped. She’d never met dwarves before and what she’d been told of them hardly endeared them to her. Rude. Boisterous. Messy. They were everything elves were not. She would have been perfectly happy to never have clapped eyes on a single dwarf ever.

So why did she free this group?

She couldn't explain it. It defied reason.

A soft sigh rose to her lips as she vaulted over the edge of the bridge to the river bank and without a look back at Mirkwood, followed the river as it wound away from everything she’d ever known.

Two hours later, Carys was absolutely questioning the wisdom of her decision as her stomach growled. She had some lembas with her, but was hardly in the mood to stop and eat. She sat up in the branches of a towering oak and tried to find the sun, which was next to impossible since iron gray clouds had effectively blocked it from view. But that didn't stop her from trying to find it. She simply had to do so.

In other words, she, who knew these woods like the back of her hand—or so she’d thought— was lost.

Everything was fine at first, but then she crossed paths—well, almost crossed paths—with a pack of orcs, most likely the ones who survived the battle at the bridge. She vaulted up into the trees when one spotted her, and in her haste to get out of range of their filthy arrows, she not only managed to do that, but she managed to get herself turned around to the point where she couldn't even find the river itself, and that had never happened before. And without being able to see the sun, she had no way of knowing which way she actually traveled.

Irritation rippled through her as she sat there, in the cradle of that blasted oak tree. The wind picked up and rain began to fall and she scowled as cold droplets soaked into her tunic, into her hair, into her trousers and boots and made her colder still.

She peered down through the leafy canopy. No sign of any orcs. No sign of anyone, period.

Carefully, she lowered herself from the branch to the path that could only barely be called such. It was narrow and overgrown with tree roots and branches, vines, and other debris that made moving along it more than a little difficult. But night was creeping in and she had to at least try to find her way to some sort of shelter. Once night fell, orcs seemed to multiply and appear everywhere and she had no desire to come face to face with them again.

So, she pushed on. The path narrowed further and she bit back a sharp oath when a branch she’d been pushing aside slipped and slapped back, the thorns raking across her left cheek in the process. The hot sting brought tears to her eyes, which mingled with the rain that now fell harder still.

Carys pressed on into the thickening darkness. Thankfully, the rain stopped, but the damage was already done, so to speak, and she couldn't remember the last time she was so miserable. Cold. Soaked to the bone. Lost in the woods she’d spent her entire life. Could it possibly get any worse?

The footsteps ahead of her answered her question.

Of course it could.

She stopped and carefully reached for one of the arrows in her quiver, then carefully laid it against the rest. The bow lowered but ready, she crept forward as noiselessly as she could. The footsteps quieted, but then she heard voices. Low. Rumbling. Definitely male.

And more than two, as the voices ranged in timbre and pitch.

She drew the bowstring back as she crept closer to the sounds. Foolish, but she couldn't go back. The pathway behind her disappeared as the branches and various other flora snapped back into place and now it was too dark to even see where the path was, let alone navigate it.

Finally, she came to a clearing. The crackle of a fire greeted her.

The rush of water came softly behind that crackle.

She’d found the river.

The voices grew louder and she eased her grip on the bowstring as she realized she recognized them. Or at least, one of them.

Bow and arrow went back to where they belonged and she paused, hands on the branches in her way, and took a deep breath before parting them. She stepped out into the clearing, where she found herself staring, and being stared at by, the same group of dwarves she’d let out of Mirkwood’s dungeons less than twenty-four hours earlier.

Thorin held up a hand to cut Dwalin off mid-sentence. “Hush. Something approaches.”

The hobbit, who somehow found them just beyond the curve in the river where the current spit them out, looked from him to Dwalin and back. “Do you think it’s orcs?”

Thorin shook his head as he looked about for something, anything, that they might use as weapons, since Thranduíl had taken it upon himself to relieve Thorin and his Company of any and all of their own weapons. His gut tightened at the thought of possibly facing off against orcs with no way to defend themselves.

Dwalin crouched to swipe a large rock from the ground behind them. “I’m ready.”

Thorin rolled his eyes. “A rock? Against their arrows? Do you truly think that will work?”

“I think it better than nothing.”

“I think you’ve gone—” He stopped then as the bushes before them rustled madly. Whoever their company was, stealth was not their strong suit.

Dwalin lifted his rock higher and the rest of the company—Bilbo included—also snatched up rocks of their own. They all went absolutely silent, just waiting to see what would emerge from the forest and how heavily they might be armed.

“There you are.”

They all stared as the elf princess from Mirkwood burst forth from the trees as if she’d been tracking them for ages. She certainly looked as if she’d been lost in the woods since the beginning of time. Water beaded her cheeks, dripped from the tip of her nose, her chin, from the hem of her tunic and when she took a step, it sounded as if her boots actually squished.

“What are you doing here?” Thorin asked, letting his rock hit the ground with a dull thunk. The others followed suit, and then all just waited to hear her explanation.

“I’m here because I got myself completely turned around thanks to the blasted rain and some fool orcs.” She came out into the clearing, looking from him to Dwalin, then to Balin, and back. “You should be miles from her by now. Thranduíl’s best captains are at this moment combing these woods looking for you, and I’ll wager the orcs who saw you off are as well.”

“I agree, we should be miles from here,” he replied, slowly turning away from her. “And we would be, if not for the fact that we lost the current and this is where the river dumped us out.”

“You need to keep moving,” she told him, as if he didn't already know that. “It won’t take them long to find you here.”

“Is that why you’re here?” He moved back to where Óin was attempting to light a fire, only to find any of the wood he tried to ignite was too wet to catch. It wouldn’t be long before they were all shivering, sitting in wet clothes as the night temperatures dropped.

He looked back at the elf. What was her name again?

“Listen, Miss—”

“Carys,” she said, meeting his stare. “My name is Carys. No Miss. Just Carys.”

“You should return home, Carys,” he told her flatly. “We needed no warning. We are well aware of what hunts us from back there.”

“And yet you dawdle here?”

“Did you miss the part where I said we’ve lost the current?”

She rolled her eyes as she strode past them and up onto the large rocks near the water’s edge. He remained where he was, exchanging looks with Balin as he waited for Carys to realize that without a current, they weren’t getting far.

It took a few minutes, but then she turned back toward him. “I know a path through the woods, it will take us a bit further south, but you should be to—”

“Us?” He arched one brow at her. She couldn’t honestly think she would be accompanying them, now did she?

To her credit, she hesitated and he had the feeling that, had there been light, he see her blushing as she said, “I—that is, you—well, to be honest, yes. Us.”

“My dear lady,” Balin broke in, his tone the one of diplomacy Thorin knew and counted on more times than he liked to think about, “you cannot go with us. It’s far too dangerous.”

The elf just stared at him for a long moment, then shook her head. “No, I’m afraid you don’t understand. I cannot go back home. Thranduíl is furious with me that I helped you and he has not said what my punishment will be, but has made it very clear that there will be one. So, if I were to return to his palace, the best I can hope for is that he will break my bow and confiscate my arrows. The worst? I will be banished. Without my bow or arrows, mind you.”

She said it softly, but there was no mistaking the definite apprehension in her soft voice. Despite Thorin’s better judgement, sympathy for her predicament swirled through him. “He would banish his own daughter?”

“For something of this magnitude?” She nodded slowly. “Yes. I believe he would.”

He couldn’t help his sigh. This quest grew more complicated by the hour. It went from reaching Erebor and dislodging a dragon, which was complicated enough on its own, to having to find a way to Erebor, find weapons, and then dislodge the dragon.

And now? Now, it seemed they had no choice but to allow Carys of Mirkwood to accompany them. Of course, if nothing else, at least she had a weapon, but that was a small consolation.

Dwalin looked over at him. “Ye cannot seriously be thinking of allowing a girl to come with us?”

Bilbo rolled his eyes. “Carys. Her name is Carys. And if we leave her, what will become of her?”

“What will become of us, when her father, the king who is already displeased with ye, Thorin, finds us? And finds her with us?” Dwalin let out a mirthless snort. “Ye’ll find yerself as his son-in-law, living here instead of in Erebor.”

Both Thorin and Carys snorted at the same time, which made Balin chuckle. “Why do I think that won’t be a problem?”

Thorin just stared at him for a long moment, then decided it didn't even warrant a response, and so instead, said, “It is settled. She knows a way around, where we won’t run across Thranduíl’s guards or the orc pack, hopefully, and so we will let her show us this way. We are running short of time and I’d rather just make our way to Erebor instead of standing here debating the matter.”

He turned to Carys. “We can pay your for your service.”

“Fine.” She nodded, coming over to where he stood, and held out a hand. “We have a bargain then?”

“It depends on the cost,” he replied.

“We can settle that in Esgaroth.”

“I’d rather settle it now.”

“Very well.” She offered up an impish smile that for some strange reason made his heart skip a beat. “Then consider my services a gift. They will benefit us both in the end, so there is no need for payment of any sort.”

“Oh, now, I am not at all certain—” he began, only to have Ori cut him off.

“Uh… Thorin?”

He turned toward Ori, only to see another man had appeared out of the darkness, high above perched up on a large rock. Not only that, but he was armed with a bow of his own, aimed at Ori, and there was no hint of friendliness in his voice as he said, “If any of you moves, he is dead.”

#Richard Armitage #The Hobbit #Thorin Oakenshield #Hobbit Fic #Hobbit Fanfic #Fan fiction #The Hobbit fan fiction #Thorin x OC #AU #Thorin Fic #Is it hot in here?#Romance #Everybody Lives AU #The Hobbit BOTFA #asks #The Hobbit DoS

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mellifera38 · 1 year

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A couple of my higher tier commissions from last year, both commissioned by @/its_runderful over on Twitter. The first is an aasimar bladesinger Sienna Eleazar, the second a fey-touched tiefling bard named Moxie Belanore. .

#commissions #dnd #tiefling #aasimar #art commission #mel arts things #q'd #my commissions

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chiefwritesbook · 2 months

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SOTAL roll-call: Red Wolf

(aka Chief's OC intros)

Age: 21-22 (human equivalent) Pronouns: he/him Sexuality: Bisexual Personality: quiet & reserved, blunt at times, but emotive once you get to know him Role in story: main character/love interest Notable quote: “My duty was to the Crown. As it always has been. As it always will be.”

About: Lord Commander of the Royal Guard. Knight of Kies Tor. Part-time werewolf, full-time simp.

By some luck or fate, Red Wolf was chosen to be the king's squire shortly after arriving in Belanore as a complete nobody, parts of his past hidden even from himself. He quickly proved his prowess with a blade in hand and earned the king's favour - a boon that saw him knighted and immediately appointed as the royal bodyguard on his 17th birthday. With the king's death many years later, he finds himself now serving a new monarch - the crown princess, now queen, a woman for whom he has long harboured unspoken feelings. Though he claims to be a simple nobody from some forgotten corner of Kies Tor, he harbours many secrets, and his mysterious past might catch up to him sooner than he knows.

#writeblr #writing #fantasy #oc #oc intro #my ocs

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heartman · 1 year

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witchervesemir -----> heartman

New url!! I decided to change it to the canon death stranding one I had saved and I've been so disappointed with the Witcher series as of late

Maybe I'll change back later but for now, new year, new url! Signal boost!

I'll tag some mutuals: @laowen @bluewaterlily @deanwwinchester @baelishpetry @izmul @dykejaskiers @kaichouchou @boozerman @kanawolf @vhagar-apologist @emilykldwins @aemma-arryn @boones @belanor @ghost-company @jeysuso @lisa-reisert @padawankestis @leonspardas

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entishramblings · 1 year

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F.A.T.E. UPDATE [LEGOLAS/OC]

Chapter 23 - The Sound of Souls is now posted!

AO3 Link

Wattpad Link

I have finally gotten another chapter of this posted! AND HOLY SHIT— I like kinda love this chapter! It does get a little bit spicy so uh yeah, you are warned. But there are also some hilarious moments in there. Also you may cry. heh. oops.

Preview:

The three elves, Belanor, Beyla, and Rowan, stood outside Legolas' door as the early rays of the sun began to leak in through the vast windows and stretched upon the stone flooring. It crept up the walls and onto their skin, spreading warmth across their anxiety-ridden bones. It was a welcomed feeling considering the events of last night.

Link to: The Last Light of the Star

Link to: From Ashes to Embers

Add yourself to my taglist(s)

taglists below the cut

Everything Tag: @sokkasdarling @scxundress @quilledinkpen @hufflepuffinblr @lea----b @aredhel-of-gondolin @princecami @the-fandoms-georgie @jazziwritestolkienprimary @swimming-in-stardust @elvish-sky @red-riding @brun-lieve @idiotic-canadian @hey-its-nonny @angelxnaa @bisexualdragongirl @mirclealignr @edensgarnden @elizabeth-anya-knight @sydney-120-sweetheart-blog @laneynoir @straysugzhpe @runningfeathers @awarwithinitself @finallyforgotten @kaiawrites @commanderawkward @xxbluestrifexx @slytherinambitious @redbirdbluebird333-blog

Everything But Spice Tag 🌶: (okay this chapter has spice in it but the entire fic(s) is low on that so I figured I would tag you in this just in case you were interested) @goldfearless @Brethil13 @insert-random-blog-name-here @iheartlegolas @cauliflowertree @aphroditesmoon

Legolas tag: @dark-angel-is-back @mylittle-escapingdreams @moriamithril @abandoncloud9 @bweakmybonez

TLLOTS/FATE Tag: @wanderingmerlin @elvish-sky @ellies-iced-coffee @ladymidnight77@lady-latte @pumpkin-queen-666 @mirclealignr @elizabeth-anya-knight @randomfandom815 @nerdysimpy @middleearthadventures

lmk what your username changes are. I beg it if you.

#vayawrites #tllots #fate #Legolas #Legolas fic #Legolas x oc #Legolas/oc #lotr #lord of the rings #the hobbit

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marcyyorsa · 1 year

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I'm making my own oracle cards ✨

These are inspired by tarot, but are very much my own personal spin on it

Left Column

The Sun - Belahore The Moon - Alunosi Polaris - Belanor The Milky Way - Rigasolusosi Andromeda - Rigasoluzbai Mercury - Fastosi Venus - Farbisosi Mars - Ruzimosi Jupiter - Gahamosi Saturn - Rikthasosi The Ice Giants - Doskaltamosi Pluto & Charon - Dosthuasosi The Ring - Riga

Right Column

The Triangle - Rigavisi The Rhombus - Dos Rigavisi The Pentagon - Penta Rigavisi The Hexagon - Heks Rigavisi The Lioness - Spasiri The Polymorph - Ria The Blue Bird - Kiamuth The Eromene - Baschara The Stylus - Kunosa The Lyre - Halatha The Codex - Hachioka The Thwyersign - Siniosthuir The Grail - Hanodur

I've even made sketched out some meanings and stuff.

Me's hoping things will go well for this proj 💜✨

#marcy lang #hanaskuvi #oracle cards

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lastinnett-writer · 1 year

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I’m going to start a new thing where I’ll post a cozy fantasy short fiction each day to warm your heart. So here it goes -

The elven maiden beckoned the weary travelers home. All they had to do now was pass through the portal to the elf kingdom of Reh Belanore. Aelrius looked forward to seeing his sister again and having a cup of her specially made Morning Sun tea that calmed the soul. They’d catch up while lounging on her balcony overlooking Lilypad Lagoon where tiny fae flitted from flower to flower. It was good to be home.

Free image from Pixabay

#writerblr #my writing #writing community #cozy fantasy #writers on tumblr #my words #female writers #indie writers #indie authors #fantasy #short fiction #fantasy short story #fantasy short fiction #cozy fantasy short fiction

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helltalia-inc · 3 years

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SUPER RARE BUT Belarus x Norway ;;;;;;

I LOVE NORBELA!!!!

BELARUS IS SO MUCH THAN A BLOODY THIRSTY CHARACTER, WITH A BROTHER COMPLEX!!!

And of course, I love to see Norway in other ships besides Dennor (I really like it too, please don't me wrong).

I actually don't think NorBela to be such an underrated ship... At least, if we ignore the "main ships and main characters" they would look like the obvious match for each other.

Also... It's just me or they give some CLASSY VIBES? Maybe it's from the awesome fanart that I saw of them, but they somehow look "Fancy" together 😂

I couldn't forget that BelaNor is just perfect... Who doesn't like a fierce woman in command? 😏😂😍

#Helltalia-inc #Ship with all your heart #Norbela #Hetalia norbela #Belanor #Hetalia belanor #Hetalia belarus #Hetalia norway

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proactivekarma · 3 years

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Next, I drew Belanor — a halfling rogue and Kory’s cousin who joined the SBI on recommendation from his superiors in the army. Since they’re related (somewhere up the massive family tree), she served as a personal reference. He’s a spy sent to infiltrate the SBI, but it’s not clear whether or not Kory knows — or if she even cares. This was a good exercise in drawing balanced proportions — I kept Kory on the screen half the time for sketching his anatomy to halfling proportions and for color matching the uniforms. Of course, first chance he gets, Belanor will probably ditch the uniform and switch into his own rogue-style outfit for field work lol

Procreate process video:

#proactivekarma #my art #dnd #halfling #sbi #belanor #kory

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darkthare · 6 months

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Some memes from this weekend

#art #dnd #sketch #memes #drawing meme #Belanor #Farzyn #Ryker #silver haired stranger #herodian #file under jokes that are funny to 2 other people #tstc

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blueberrypancakepotbellygirl · 5 years

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DO YALL WANT TO MEET MY NEW DND CHARACTER ?

this is the only thing stopping me from jumping out a window right now.

Name: Belanor Whyteroak

Race: Wood Elf

Class: Paladin

Her oath: I will free the eyes and mouths of the people.

Belanor’s God has always been there. Ever since she can remember, her days have been full of ‘revelations’ - moments of divine clarity where Veritas, goddess of truth, would visit to guide Belanor through life’s many traps and threats that plague the world by hiding in plain sight. Only a few have been given the power of true sight by Veritas, and Belanor is one of the chosen. When she was just a child she made an oath to Veritas free the elves, orcs and dwarves from the ideological apparatus that cinch the lives of all that live under the country’s [aristocracy/government]. What Belanor knows is not a conspiracy - it is the truth, straight from the mouth of Celestial certainty. The [royal family/government] do not want what is best for their people and have been insidiously manipulating and controlling the lower classes in an attempt to eventually take full control over their land, property and lives for their own selfish gain. Veritas primarily shows her presence to Belanor through reflections - in puddles, lakes, mirrors, dark glass, teaspoons - and takes the form of an eagle.

Growing up as an only child, Belanor had many friends but never socialised with children at school. Rather, Belanor met friends whilst playing in the park by herself, or random children who would creep into her room through her window in the middle of the night for secret sleepovers. Belanor was never afraid of strangers as a child. Over the years, her friendships have changed, but she has never struggled to make new acquaintances. Her relationship with her mother and step-father, however, have never been as easy.

Having never met her father, and knowing her step-dad, Rackeo, since she was a little elf, Belanor grew up very aware of a distance between herself and her parents. Her step-dad did not love her like a dad, but like a distant uncle, or a disinterested teacher might. His interest was in her mother, not in her. He had never wanted children, and only reluctantly took on the role after falling deeply in love with Belanor’s mother.

Her mother never believed her when she told her that a tall, ominous shadow figure would enter her room at night and watch her sleep. Her mother never believed that Belanor could talk to birds or communicate with the dead. Rather, she would simply sigh, staying up late at night worrying about her daughter and her pathological lying, praying, to whatever God would listen, that this phase was, in fact, just a phase. She blamed herself, and the absence of her biological father, for what seemed like obvious acting-out.

Belanor was told her whole life that she was a liar, that her imagination had gone a little too wild, that the monsters under her bed were preventing her from fully maturing and becoming a ‘proper’ citizen. “Good people don’t lie,” her mother would snap at her constantly. Quickly, Belanor stopped telling her mother about her wild adventures with friends, or her new eagle companion. She kept to herself, learnt to distrust most, and comforted herself with the knowledge that it was her mother who had been the victim of lies of deceit, not herself. Belanor had been gifted with real truth, a truth that many just could not handle.

Belanor has always known she was special. She knew she could see the real world where others could only see the surface. She was aware of the true evil that was at play, the oppressive powers pulling the strings, that made her family and others like hers suffer in poverty and pain whilst the rich lived in comfort and peace. Constantly she would get into fights with demented animals that would chase after her in the playground, animals sent by those who knew she had the power within her to dismantle the system. However, her classmates would get caught up in the collateral damage of bloody and scrappy fistfights and, after a series of stints in detention and two spells of suspension, Belanor’s school decided that they could no longer take in our brave, valiant wood elf. Having no friends at the school, nor any interest in academics or magic, Belanor happily left and, whilst never able to keep a job for more than a few months, managed to get by, still living with her parents until a more sustainable opportunity came about.

However, the flickering figure that had watched her sleep for so many years, started to walk outside of her bedroom walls. It would follow her to work, or to bars and clubs where she would spend time with her friends. At first, she wondered if he was a demon that had slipped from a nightmare into the waking world. Soon, however, she became convinced that this figure had been sent to monitor her. She tried to hide from it, but failed every time, until one day, whilst eating ice-cream in her kitchen, Veritas came to her to warn her about him. “He knows who you are. He knows you know the truth. He will kill you. Be careful.” With her suspicions confirmed, Belanor attacked the shadow in her kitchen. The figure vanished immediately and was replaced, somehow, by her stepfather. Horrified and scared of what she might do next, her step-father reported her to the police, where she spent seventy years within the judicial system.

After being released from jail, Belanor moved away from her parents, into underground groups and parties that planned terrorist attacks against the major powers. She met group members through dorm-mates in jail, and through her connections had been couch-surfing, never staying in one place for more than a week, so as to prevent government agents from finding her. She was involved in a number of counter-attacks involving the arson of high-security buildings, and the attempted assassination of the [whoever rules the country she is living in], for which she is now spending a life-sentence in jail for. She has never told anyone about Veritas for fear of being misunderstood or placed within a psychiatric facility. Veritas has warned her that her fellow citizens would never understand. So, for the last twenty years of her sentence, Belanor has been planning, plotting and preparing to take down the government/aristocracy from the inside out. Through the befriending of inmates and guards alike, Belanor has enough inside information to properly put a dent in the ruling, oppressive powers that be. Now, all she needs is a few other willing radicals with the same desire to obtain freedom. Together, she has a plan to escape all chains.

*******************************************************************************************

So, there are two ways I see this going. Either Veritas is a canon Goddess, just a primarily unknown one within the universe the campaign is in that has been hidden by the ruling powers as part of a conspiracy to prevent the people of this world from knowing the truth about their current lives. Belanor’s hallucinations have been actual visits from the Goddess, in reflections because the hand mirror is a symbol of Veritas, and as an eagle, because Veritas’ father is Zeus (that’s his sacred animal) and eagles represent freedom and bravery.

Or, what Belanor has been experiencing has been on-going psychosis. Rather than being the subject of a Goddess, Belanor is living a parallel life to Echo. She sees the eagle because it is the animal of Zeus, and Zeus is the God who, through his forcing her to protect him, forces Echo to lose control of her voice, only allowing her to repeat the words of others - which is Belanor’s number one fear (being unable to have control over her life). Her attempt to free the voices of the common people is also an attempt to free her own. The reflections are important because they represent the thing that prevents her from having the one thing she desires more than anything - just as the reflection in the river kills Echo’s love, Narcissus. Her hallucinations mean that she will never have full agency over her life, as she is constantly influenced by visions and voices that are indiscernible from reality…

However, it isn’t the reflections that kill Narcissus, but his own hamartia. Belanor’s hallucinations aren’t the enemy here, preventing her from having control over her life. Rather, it is her need to have full control over every aspect of her life that means she will never achieve actual freedom. I don’t know if any of this makes senseeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee.

#dnd #belanor

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