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obsidiancreates · 5 months

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Recounting A Long-Expected, Never To Pass party

Part of the There and Back Again (Starting From The End) series

They're not even a day out from Erebor when, after a bit of somber silence at the knowledge of the quest ahead of them, Kili speaks up.

"So, Bilbo," he says. "Uncle tells us you knew two Hobbits who reminded you of us."

Bilbo chuckles merrily, puffing a pipe scrounged from the ruins even as he walks- they're not making much haste yet, still recovering from their journey to the mountain itself- they'd all been terribly pained to leave, but it couldn't be helped. Bilbo isn't sure if he can resist The Ring as Frodo did, and Gandalf agrees it's best to travel with a large band in case they are still yet hunted. Even with Azog gone, dangers roam the wildlands.

Even so, Bilbo drinks in this time with his long-ago companions, family, like a sapling tasting of rain for the first time in many long years among a desolate patch of land. "Going around telling all of my business, Thorin?" he teases.

"They'd asked about what you'd shared with me," Thorin says, a small quick of his lips showing he knew Bilbo's comment was in jest.

"Yes, I did know two hobbits quite like you boys," Bilbo says to Kili, and he hears Kili and Fili murmur to each other in excitement. "Steady now! You won't meet them for some time yet. But I have plenty of stories to share, if you like."

"I think we'd all enjoy a merry tale or two," Balin says, grimmer than the young princes. "We're not likely to see much merry ourselves on this journey."

"Exactly my thinking, Balin. Let's see, where to start... well, one of their grandest muck-abouts was at my own birthday, my hundred-eleventh near sixty years after returning home. Gandalf rode in for the party of course- we always kept a close friendship after the journey- and brought with him his magnificent fireworks."

"You make fireworks?" Bofur said in surprise, looking up at Gandalf.

"Indeed I do. They were the only thing Bilbo recalled about me when I came to his door."

"Yes, well, you brought many for my party, of course. I'd invited half the shire, and the other half had turned up anyway!" He let out a laugh. "And Merry and Pippin- nicknames spoken more often their their full names- they of course got themselves into a spot of trouble. They went and rifled through your cart, so I was told, and pulled out a firework in the visage of a dragon! I imagine you'd intended it as the party-ender show, and a treat for the children who adored my stories."

"You told hobbit children about this quest?" Dwalin looks at Bilbo skeptically.

"Oh, put away that look, Dwalin. I told them uh... approximations, of our journey. Close enough to inspire wonder and teach some valuable lessons, but changed a bit to add some fun. I made up a wonderful song for the incident with the spiders- ha! If only I'd thought of it in the moment and not years later." Bilbo smiles fondly as he talks, his pipe resting in the corner of his mouth and occasionally drawn and puffed from.

"You, singin' a song?" Nori snorts. "Can't imagine it."

"Hobbit sing often! I've come up with a good few myself, even along our quest. I just didn't find it entirely appropriate to sing them. But you're getting me off track! Merry and Pippin stole the dragon firework and lit it- inside one of the tents, Frodo told me they'd later discovered. Burnt and flung into the water by the flight. The dragon swooped down upon us all, and I remember- yes, I remember Frodo grabbing me and telling me there was a dragon, and I told him 'Nonsense! There hadn't been a dragon in these parts in a thousand years!' He pushed me to the ground as it flew overhead, and the whole of Hobbiton watched with baited breath as it flew away before bursting into showers of light! Quite a good show, we all thought, and I later saw the dirty faces of Merry and Pippin washing up the dishes as Gandalf smoked and watched."

Gandalf laughs now. "Perhaps this time around you'll get them to be better behaved."

"Oh, I wouldn't dream of it," Bilbo ways with a glint in his eye. "I was just as bad by then."

"Got stuck with the sticky fingers, eh?" Nori grins approvingly.

"Not quite, Nori. But at the same party, oh I made it a night to truly remember. The memory is a bit soured now, knowing the nature of The Ring, but even so it's a good one."

"How did The Ring play into a party?" Ori is throughly confused between his two older brothers.

"Oh, I used it to get into all sorts of mischief over the years. In particular, I was prompted to go and give a speech as the party was reaching a natural high- and of course I'd planned to give one anyway. I got up on one of the ale barrels, and I remember exactly what I said, as I'd planned it for many weeks."

Bilbo clears his throat, and tries to adjust his voice to match his older tones more- a strange sensation to be sure.

"My dear Bagginses and Boffins, Tooks and Brandybucks! Grubbs, Chubbs, Hornblowers, Bolgers! Bracegirdles! And Proudfoots!"

He interrupts his own recreation to shakes his head. "Got that name wrong, but it drew a laugh from the crowd when he corrected me so it hardly ruined the event."

"That's a strange lot of names, laddie," Dwalin says.

"I could say the same about yours. All entirely respectable Hobbit families- well, depending upon who you ask. Now what came next... ah, yes."

"Today is my one-hundreth and eleventith birthday! But alas, eleventy-one years is far too short a time to live among such excellent and admirable hobbits. I don't know half of you half as well as I should like, and I like less than half of you half as well as you deserve."

It draws some surprised barks of laughter from the company, including Gandalf, and Bilbo thinks it might bite the end right off of the pipe if he smiles any harder hearing the laughs of his dear friends- Thorin, Fili, and Kili most of all.

"The looks on their faces! They didn't grasp onto it very well, and the ones who did didn't appreciate it! But I knew it'd bring amusement somewhere, in some day."

"I'm going to use that whenever we have to start sitting in on Court Meetings," Kili snickers.

"You will do no such thing," Thorin warns.

"Let the boys have a bit of fun, Thorin," Bilbo chides. "Life is too short to not, even when it's longer than an age. Otherwise you may end up like Thranduil did- took many years of tense teatimes to soften him up, I tell you. Don't give me that look you lot, there's few others to talk with in those lands and by the time I awake back here I'd spoken to just about every elf many lifetimes over. Now, I went to say- I feigned a bit of nervousness here to sell it, and don't allow anyone to tell you otherwise, purely for show did I stumble on my words and I include them now to give the most accurate impression of the event-"

"I uh, I ha-have things to do. And here I reached into my pocket, and pulled out The Ring so that no-one saw it, and put my hands behind my back. And I went on to mutter a bit to myself- nasty habit I picked up on this very quest- and put my attention on Frodo."

"I regret, to announce, this, is the end. I'm going now. I bid you all a very fond farewell. Goodbye."

The company are all leaning in, enraptured- including Gandalf, though there's a worry to his expression not unlike when he'd heard the speech the first time around.

"And in front of the whole of Hobbiton, I vanished! There one moment, completely gone in the next! The crowd went into an uproar, of course, or as much of one as a party of well-drunk and fed hobbits can be. I raced back up to Bag End and didn't take The Ring off until I got back inside and shut my door."

Bilbo near giggles at the memory. "Oh, the looks on their faces! I got quite a scolding from Gandalf afterwards, as you can imagine. Magic rings are not to be taken lightly, and of course in the moment I couldn't imagine why that was. And then, ah..."

"Well, then it turned to a moment more befitting of the evil The Ring holds. But even then, the memory of that final great prank kept me smiling and laughing for many years!"

"... Well... if it wasn't such an evil ring, I'd ask you to borrow it and do something similar," Kili admits, smiling. "Can you imagine, Fili?"

"And you'd rally us all up into a search party," the eldest brother says with a small smile. "Imagine Nori with an ability like that. None of us would be able to find anything ever again."

"Perhaps," Balin interrupts, "We shouldn't speak so lightly of the powers it gives. Temptation is easily felt, and not so easily dismissed."

Fili and Kili share a look, and then nod.

"We didn't mean anything by it," Fili says.

"Purely admiring our own Bilbo Baggins becoming a mischief maker," Kili adds.

"And I've got plenty more mischief left, once this whole nasty business is done," Bilbo says, head held high and smile bright with amusement.

#the hobbit #bilbo baggins #thorin oakenshield #bagginshield #gandalf #the company of thorin oakenshield #fanfic #my attempts at fanfic

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tathrin · 1 year

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Been doing some world-building for the Gimli Dark Lord of Erebor AU, and I think I have the general background events figured out at last. Anyone want to read way too many sloppily-written words of backstory for this unhinged canon-divergence nightmare fic? Boy are you in luck if so!

Note that any of this is subject to change until and unless actually directly referenced in the fic itself. This is very much proto-rough-draft stuff right now, just sort of brainstorming-via-prose. (Also obviously potential spoilers abound, in the sense of “things that have already happened but haven’t been revealed or discussed by the characters,” although it does stop some considerable amount of time before the day the story actually opens.) But I know there are a few folks who’ve expressed interest in knowing more about this AU, and I would love to know people’s thoughts on what I’ve come up with so far. Especially if you see a logistical issue or plot-hole that needs to be paved!

Also it’s probably less than wholly coherent (this was largely typed on my phone at work, shhh), but do let me know if you hit any part that’s just completely unfathomable and I’ll try to clarify it.

Anyway...

We start with Boromir taking the One Ring from Frodo on Amon Hen. He runs off in something of a panic (at this point in his own mind he sees himself as too far gone to do anything else, and the Ring runs with that—they'd never forgive you now!—and he goes racing off pell-mell), unaware that the others are about twenty minutes away from being ambushed by uruk-hai—although it is that fight which will give him the necessary lead-time to escape.

Frodo was injured (hand broken, knocked out) in the struggle over the Ring. The others find him after the orc fight just waking up, having been hidden by his cloak from the battle. Aragorn tends his wounds while Legolas and Gimli search for Merry and Pippin; can't find them. The others join the search: nothing. Too much ground, too many footprints, too few clues. They search for hours, but—but the Ring gets farther away with every minute. They must pursue it, must pursue Boromir. But to do so means abandoning Merry and Pippin who may or may not even be alive. What do they do?

Sam of course wants to keep looking, but will defer to Frodo. Frodo would like to search more, but his duty (and the Ring) tug at him to chase Boromir, even though all he wants to do is find his friends and make sure they're all right. Loyal Gimli of course is aghast at the idea of abandoning his friends until he knows for sure that they are dead; Legolas, warrior of Mirkwood, understands both the stakes and the bitterness of such sacrifice all too well, and votes to do what they must and chase the Ring. Aragorn is torn…but duty to the Quest wins in the end, at least in part because he is sure that they must be dead already and their hacked bodies lying somewhere in the brush of Amon Hen. (They are not: they are being carried into Rohan on the backs of uruk-hai. They will escape to Fangorn, and the Ents, and join the march to Isengard. But their friends will not come there to find them. They will not see the Fellowship again.)

The rest chase Boromir, but they are too far behind. They will not catch him. The Ring will go to Gondor, and to Denethor, and hope will not come again to the White City.

Gandalf will go to Edoras alone. He will meet Merry and Pippin in Fangorn, but the rest of the Fellowship will not know that he returned until the moment when he leaves again. In Meduseld, he will pull Théoden out from Saruman's spell, and at the Hornberg he will bring Erkenbrand to save the survivors of Helm's Deep as they huddle in the keep beneath the unflinching assault of the White Hand. Éomer is dead, with no dwarf there to save him. Théoden lives, but as a broken man: he lost his son and he lost his nephew, and he could not save his people, but rather had to be pulled from the trap of his walls by saviors led by the White Wizard. It does not matter: his death will find him on the plains outside the White City regardless.

But before that: Boromir arrives in Minas Tirith on March 2nd. Théoden has just been healed; the Entmoot has not yet concluded. The rest of the Fellowship are at most two days behind Boromir. Aragorn, Gimli, and Legolas could ostensibly travel faster than him, but they have two Hobbits to bring with them, one of whom was injured, and they lingered long in search of Merry and Pippin; also the Ring, far from being a burden that drags at his feet as it does with Frodo, speeds his steps and strengthens him when he might otherwise seek rest, because he is doing what it wants. They have made good time, but not good enough to overtake him; not good enough to stop him.

Gandalf, as a Ringbearer, senses the moment that Denethor claims the One Ring…and so does Frodo.

"Wait," he cries, staggering to a halt. He drops to his knees clutching his head, his heart; trying to clutch his very soul. His shoulder burns like ice. "Wait," he says, "it's too late."

Aragorn stares at him in horror. "Sauron has the Ring?"

"No," Frodo says. "Someone else…a Man, I think. A tall Man, he looks old. He feels very old. I don't think he is, though. I think he…I think he is someone very important. Not a king, but something like a king, I think," he says, and Aragorn sinks to the ground beside the Hobbit. His face is gray and grim. Frodo tries to offer him a reassuring smile out of instinct, but he cannot quite manage it; instead his face curls in a thoughtful frown. "He reminds me of you, a little, Strider," Frodo continues, "but…but not, also. Very much not like you, in some ways, I think. But I saw a White City, and a dead tree, and the Ring was on his hand, and…and it is his. Aragorn, the Ring is his."

"Denethor, " Aragorn says, and his voice is a lament. He bows his head. "Alas for Gondor, then, for Denethor has claimed the One Ring."

"What does that mean?" Legolas asks. "What do we do next?"

"What can we do?" Aragorn shrugs, and stands, and he looks older than he ever has as he turns his face south towards Minas Tirith. "The choice has been taken from us. Now all that is left is to stand with Gondor in the war that will come, or flee before Sauron's victory."

"But Gondor cannot defeat him," Gimli says.

"No," says Aragorn. "They cannot. But I will pledge them my sword nonetheless."

In the end, they all decide to go on with heavy hearts to Minas Tirith. Denethor welcomes them with smiles and poorly-concealed suspicion. (He does not want them here, but it is better to have them under his eye, where he is the one in control.) Boromir swaggers to cover his feelings of shame. (He does not want them here; he does not manage quite to meet their eyes.) Faramir is fascinated by the Halflings especially, and it is he who manages to coax the truth out of Frodo and Sam about exactly how Boromir really got his hands on the One Ring. (He is grieved, but less surprised than he wishes he was; Faramir knows his brother, and he knows furthermore that he has been acting strangely since he returned from Rivendell. This truth explains much.)

The Beacons have now been lit, although it will be some days before Rohan arrives, if they can come at all; if they had come sooner, perhaps Gandalf would have stopped Aragorn and Frodo from passing the gates of the White City and placing themselves in Denethor's power. But Gandalf was not there, and his friends still think him dead. So Aragorn and Frodo enter Minas Tirith, but they do not bring hope with them when they do. Denethor is already lost to the Ring, and to the visions of glory and dominion that it feeds him.

Sauron, of course, also knew the moment someone claimed his Ring. So Mordor marches to war against Minas Tirith…but Sauron is not committed to this war. He knows where the real battle is being fought, and he has already decided that he will win it by agreeing to lose. This is merely the necessary process to make his surrender convincing. So he sends an army, and Minas Tirith fights, and the Maker of the One Ring strives in his mind against the Master of the One Ring, and Aragorn can do nothing to stop Denethor from dooming them all.

Boromir rides at the head of Gondor's army, and Aragorn rides beside him with Andúril in hand, and the people whisper; but Aragorn makes no move to claim the kingship. Gondor's army stands against Mordor, but slowly they are pushed back to the gates of the White City. Their lines are beginning to falter on the third day of battle when dawn finally breaks to show the Riders of Rohan coming up over the grass, the Grey Company (who came to Rohan seeking Aragorn, and found Théoden instead, and were persuaded by Gandalf that the most likely place to find Aragorn will be Gondor) with them—but there are many orcs yet, and the Corsairs of Umbar are coming up the river, too, and there are Nazgûl flying out of the east towards the battlefield. Three of them converge on Théoden—but it is not the king they seek, but rather the counselor riding beside him: Gandalf Greyhame, wielder of the Ring of Fire.

Gandalf yells for Rohan's forces to flee from these foes which are beyond their strength. Many do; Théoden stays. He masters the bitter fear the Nazgûl bring and defends Gandalf from their blades, until one pierces his shoulder. He goes down to his knees with a cry, and still he raises his blade one last time…and so he dies beside the wizard when Gandalf uses all the power within him to destroy the three Nazgûl Lords and a goodly portion of the armies around him, too.

The surviving Rohirrim are rallied by a young soldier they knew as Dernhelm, who throws off her helmet and reveals herself to be Éowyn of the House of Eorl. With tears streaming down her cheeks, she leads her people back into battle. They follow her with a roar and the strength of their spears and shields sends many orcs of Mordor running.

Then Denethor stands on the battlements and holds his hand aloft in a blaze of fiery light, and he commands the forces of Mordor to cower before him. And they do.

It is in that moment that Aragorn knows hope is lost.

The battle ends with most of the orcs slain, the rest fleeing either back to Mordor or into the wild. The Easterlings and Corsairs are taken prisoner, or strike out on a desperate flight for their distant homes. (Denethor will deal with them, he decides, once his business with Sauron is finished; for now, let them flee.) Aragorn walks alone through the ashes of the Wizard's fall, which none other will dare brave. He retrieves the Rings left behind by Gandalf's inferno and takes Narya for his own: not because he wants to, but because he trusts no other there to wield it, and he does not believe that it will be left unclaimed if he does not. He means to bring it to Rivendell, and to give it to Elrond to bestow upon one of his advisors (most likely Glorfindel, he thinks; Glorfindel would be a good choice for that Ring, if he can brace himself to face fire on such close terms once again)…

But Denethor does not approve. He demands all the Rings; Aragorn refuses to give him any. He says that those of the Ringwraiths were born by Kings of Men once, and while they do not know which kings Gandalf burned, still Aragorn has thus the closest claim to those Rings than anyone there, for he is descended from Kings of Men, including some who once ruled Númenor and were lured into becoming Ringwraiths by Sauron's words. He will not give up those Rings; and as for Narya, he will return it to the elves, for it was an elvish ring before it was gifted to the Wizard.

Denethor declares that he is the Master of all the Rings now, and Aragorn will hand them over; Aragorn refuses. They match wills, and for a moment seem almost evenly matched: Denethor has the One Ring, which was built to command all the others, but Aragorn is mightier than Denethor, and he has not worn his spirit low contending with Sauron, and the Three were never fully dominated by the Dark Lord. They are evenly matched, for a moment… Then while they strive, on Denethor's quiet command, Boromir murders Aragorn. (He is horrified, later, to realize that he struck from behind; horrified to realize that he slew a friend. But in the moment, all he could feel was the compulsion of the Ring and the bloodlust of his own fury that Aragorn would dare defy his father, the Steward who ruled the land which the descendants of the kings abandoned.) Denethor takes the four Rings in triumph, and he gives to Boromir the Ring of Fire still wet with Aragorn's blood.

The secret of Aragorn's death is one they will not keep for long, but for now, none know what happened in the great hall between the Steward and the man who might have been his king.

Meanwhile, Merry and Pippin are back at Edoras; they left Isengard with Gandalf and the Rohirrim, but were not carried to battle with the rest of their forces. Frodo and Sam have decided to go there to seek their friends, since they will be of little use in the battle at the Black Gates, they figure—but Denethor has something else in mind for the Hobbit who once carried the Ring. He asks Frodo to stay at his side while the end of the war is fought, and Frodo cannot find a polite way to decline and Sam will not leave Frodo's side. So they stay in Gondor, while the survivors of the army ride out to break the Black Gate and throw Sauron down from his Dark Tower.

Boromir, with Narya on his hand, leads their forces; Faramir, now wearing one of the Nine, rides with him. Legolas and Gimli notice that Aragorn is not with the army, and the Ring he briefly claimed is now worn by Boromir, and they are distressed—but what can they do? The war is here at hand, and there is no time for questions now (just as Denethor arranged, of course). The army rides to the Black Gates, and Sauron's forces pour forth to battle…

And then Sauron himself strides onto the field. Terror grips the forces of Gondor and Rohan…and then Sauron kneels. His Nazgûl kneel beside him. He surrenders his forces and offers himself a prisoner to Gondor; a prisoner to the Lord of the Rings.

No one wants to go near him, to touch him. Even bold Boromir quails, the Ring in his mind shrieking in terror of the maia who would have mastered it. Eventually it is Faramir who walks forward, and the sight of his little brother showing such bravery stirs Boromir's courage and he follows, and together the two Captains of Gondor take Sauron prisoner.

The army rides back to Minas Tirith in escort, while Faramir and a smaller force stay to claim and investigate Barad-dûr. One of the Nazgûl stays with them to play (terrifying) guide; the other three go back with Sauron as prisoners, although no one wants to bind them or go near them, and in the end they march back under their own power and by their own will, or at least that of their master, rather than under guard or bindings (three Nazgûl died to Gandalf and there are two currently stationed in Dol Guldur leading the war against Mirkwood, Dale, Erebor, and Lórien, so there were only four left in Mordor). Sauron is brought to Minas Tirith as a prisoner, but he walks in with a faint smirk on his face and his head unbowed, with three Nazgûl framing him in escort, and there are some who cannot help but think he looks more like a conqueror than a captive when he crosses through the white stone gates that once held back his Shadow and kneels politely before the Steward.

Sauron is no longer fair to look at, no; he lost that seeming in the wreckage of Númenor. But there is a grim beauty to his fell features nonetheless, the sort of cruel and regal beauty of hatred and power. He does not look fair, he does not look good—but he looks strong, to be sure. In a way, he even looks faintly kingly standing there before the unclaimed throne of the king. A tyrant of a king, yes; but a king, to be sure. It will be Sauron, in fact, who eventually convinces Denethor to claim that throne, since the kings will never be coming home now, and does not the Lord of the Rings merit a throne, even if he is not (never will be) a king?

It will also be Sauron who, having flattered the story out of Denethor, spreads the truth of what happened to their would-be king through the White City…although it will not be he who tells Faramir. That will be Boromir himself, in the cold hours one night, wracked with guilt and trying to invent excuses to lift the weight of it from his mind. Faramir will be horrified, but he will not speak out against his brother's actions then; he will have already learned, by then, when to keep silent under the weight of Denethor's dominion. There is a reason his father gave him a Ring, after all, and it was not because he thought Faramir deserved its power.

But that is later; for now, there are the few remaining members of the Fellowship to consider.

Frodo, having carried the Ring so far, has fallen under Denethor's sway. He will fall farther, soon: Denethor will gift him with the second of the three Nine Rings taken from the charnel of the battlefield, and will send him back west to rule the Shire and all its surrounding lands in Gondor's name. Sam will go with him, of course, because Sam is loyal and will remain loyal; even as Frodo falls deeper and deeper under the sway of the Ring, and becomes more and more of a wraith—more and more of a monster—at Denethor's hand, heartbroken Sam will always be loyal. Even as he grieves for what the Shire becomes under Frodo's increasingly merciless rule, and for the ever-growing distance and cruelty of his corrupted master, he cannot help but stay loyal.

Aragorn's friends and kinsmen do not know exactly what happened to him, but they know that some foul play must have been involved; they know, too, that their own lives are under threat in Gondor. They know too much, and their loyalty is not and has never been to Denethor. He is busy now with Sauron and with Frodo, but he will not stay busy forever. They need to go now, while they still can—but none of their attempts to politely take their leave are accepted, for while Denethor has more important things to deal with right now he also does mean to deal with them eventually, and intends to keep them cooling their heels in his city until he can spare them the proper attention. So he plans victory feasts, and pretends great grief at the notion of their parting, and says that they must stay until after Aragorn is laid in state in a great funeral as befits Isildur's Heir, and so on and so forth; one excuse after another after another, all fairly-couched and on the surface far too noble and justified to balk at. But they know it is a pretense, and they know they are running out of time.

(And Sauron is in the city, too. And if he is in chains…well, he has been in chains before. It did not stop him working evil then, and the Dúnedain know those stories well. They need to leave.)

So one night the survivors of the Grey Company leave Minas Tirith under cover of darkness. They go on foot for all that it pains the Dúnedain to abandon their loyal steeds, because they know they would not be able to sneak out with the horses. Legolas and Gimli go with them—or at least, Gimli was supposed to be with them. But Gimli stayed, because he feared that he would slow them down. Worse, he feared that he would slow Legolas down. He remembers how tireless the elf was during the pursuit of Boromir; remembers thinking that if Legolas had been unfettered by mortal limitations, he would have been able to outpace him, and perhaps all this would have gone differently. He thinks about the fact that Mirkwood is not so far to the north, and how Legolas could probably cover that distance in a little more than a week if he were alone; he thinks of how much slower he would go, if he had a dwarf in tow, and how likely that delay would get him killed, and so Gimli stays.

The rest of them disappear into the night in their grey cloaks, fading into the wilds as only those who walk with the light tread of Rangers or elven-kind might do.

Gimli begs the sons of Elrond to lie for him, and so it is not until they are many miles from the White City that Legolas discovers his friend did not come with them, and by then it is too late to go back—and even if he did, what would he do? Drag Gimli away with him? The dwarf chose to stay, and chose not even to say farewell. Well, that was his choice to make; Legolas cannot unmake it for him.

So Legolas returns to Mirkwood, bereft and bewildered by Gimli's betrayal, and throws himself into the doomed fight against the Shadow there. Galadriel did not throw down the walls of Dol Guldur, after all; she, too, knew the moment that Denethor claimed the One Ring for his own, and she knew what that would mean for Lothlórien. She and Celeborn did not lead their forces across the river to aid Thranduil; they stayed in their forest, and prepared for the end.

Without Lórien and Nenya to dwindle the forces of the Enemy, Erebor fared poorly in the war. The dwarves nonetheless held out long in the siege against the orcs and goblins of Mordor, but when Denethor sent forces from Gondor to aid the armies that had once been Sauron's and were now his, the dwarves thought that the Men were coming to their assistance. They sallied forth from the mountain, meaning to trap the orcs and goblins between the two armies…and were instead subjected to a vicious slaughter, as Mordor and Gondor fought side-by-side against them.

Denethor told Gimli, who had stayed in Minas Tirith with the thought that he would act as a delay on whatever pursuit would inevitable follow Legolas and the Grey Company, that his people's army has been decimated and the surviving dwarves are trapped in their mountain under a siege they have no hopes of either outlasting or escaping. He tells him that Dain is dead, and all the line of Durin, and every person living in the Lonely Mountain will be slaughtered if they continue to defy Gondor…or he can claim lordship of the mountain, and make peace with Gondor on Erebor's behalf, and so save them from destruction.

Gimli accepts the terms, because he sees no other choice. He accepts the Ring that Denethor insists he take (the Ring that once belonged to Durin, and which was reclaimed from Barad-dûr by Faramir's scouts, and brought to Denethor as Master of the Rings), if he is to be a vassal-lord of Gondor, for the same reason: he has not choice. He does what must be done, and he goes to Erebor, and he saves his people by damning them to Gondor's rule.

Dale was sacked and devastated, and Denethor declares it to be a vassal state of Erebor now, under the dominion of the dwarves. The farms of Dale deliver their crops to the Lonely Mountain, which disperses a share of the harvest back to them according to Denethor's will. Mirkwood belongs to the Nazgûl in Dol Guldur, but still has bands of elves in its trees, fighting and dying.

(As for Lórien…that story is told elsewhere.)

Merry and Pippin were in Edoras, and do not learn of what happened to everyone else until Queen Éowyn returns with the few survivors of Rohan's army. She will not be bound by a Ring yet, but in less than a year Denethor will demand more obsequience than he thinks Rohan is offering. (Partly this will be due to his own paranoia, earned under long years of striving against the Shadow with the palantir; part of this will be due to the bold temperament of Rohan in general and Éowyn in specific, and their dislike of all things that reek of the Shadow; the last part will be due to Sauron whispering in his ear, sowing division between the realms of Men.) Éowyn will be forced to take a Ring, the third of the three Nine Rings that was found in the ashes of Gandalf's death, and Rohan will now fall fully under Gondor's domination.

But that is later; for now, there is Saruman to consider. He slips out of Isengard, when the Ents tire of watching him. Knowing that he cannot oppose Gondor now that Denethor has claimed the One Ring and a victory over Sauron as well, he slips away to his fallback position in the Shire. That goes well enough for him, at first—but then Frodo and Sam come back from Gondor with a Ring on Frodo's hand and no mercy in his heart. Saruman does not know what to make of this quasi-wraith of a Halfling, and he makes the mistake of treating him like an ordinary Hobbit. Frodo is no longer someone who can be cowed, at least not by anything less than the One Ring itself: in his wrath at what the wizard has done to the Shire, he destroys Saruman using the power of his Ring, and so tips his soul entirely into its domination.

Sam remains loyal, though. Sam will always remain loyal to his Frodo.

#gimli dark lord of erebor au #lotr au #my writing #my stuff #lotr #fanfiction #gimli #frodo #boromir #denethor #sauron #legolas #aragorn #faramir #eowyn #samwise #boromir lives

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blairsanne · 1 year

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Reunion at Bag End

A TSS gift for @coconi for Tolkien Secret Santa 2022 @officialtolkiensecretsanta! Happy Holidays @coconi!

The Hobbit/Lord of the Rings (slight AU) 1443 words

Summary: Bilbo is anxious as he awaits Thorin and the Company's arrival at Bag End. Everyone lives AU, cozy fluff.

Bilbo stood in his kitchen and stared out the window at the falling snow.

The sun was just starting to set, and the winter wind had been blowing powdery snowflakes across the shire for days, but it was warm and cozy in Bag End. The smell of spices, meat, and pastry filled the room, the pies in the oven nearly ready.

“Bilbo?” a voice called from the other room, but Bilbo didn’t notice, eyes trained on a far hill and thoughts elsewhere until a small hand tapped his forearm.

“Are you alright, uncle? The kettle was whistling.”

Bilbo blinked back to his senses and turned to see Frodo pouring the freshly boiled water into the tea pots Bilbo had prepared on the table.

“Do you think they’ll be much longer?” Bilbo wondered.

Frodo laughed. “Uncle Thorin loses his way, but he must be keen to enjoy the party.”

Thorin had gone out to Erebor for a visit and was meant to be returning with the old Company that had reclaimed the Lonely Mountain together. Even Fili - now the king - was set to be arriving with them for the long overdue visit.

Bilbo had spent the entirety of Thorin’s absence preparing for the dwarves. The pantry was overstocked with cheese and meats, and all manner of breads. The table where they’d eat was already set with plates of cakes and cookies, and the doorways were framed in winter greenery for a sense of festive cheer. It was to be a party to remember. If only the guests of honor would arrive.

Bilbo ruffled Frodo’s dark curls, forcing himself to relax his shoulders as he fetched the tea cozies. “It’s just been so long since I’ve seen most of them. I must admit, I’m a bit impatient.”

His young nephew grinned up at him. “Me too, uncle! I look forward to meeting them.”

More than impatient, Bilbo felt nervous, somehow. It was a lot to ask all of them to come to the Shire. Bilbo and Thorin had traveled out a couple times since Thorin had left Erebor, but now with Frodo, Bilbo had been hesitant to make such a long trek. Still, it had been too long since he’d seen them all. He hoped they’d all been keeping well, and that they’d approve of the hobbit hole now that they were used to living in Erebor surrounded by dwarven finery in metal and stone. He wanted everything to be perfect for his old friends; warm enough, fed enough, entertained enough.

Frodo, who hadn’t lived at Bag End long, had asked both Thorin and Bilbo about the quest heaps of times. He had vivid mental images of each of the dwarves, as well as many of the events that had taken place. He was keen to see if they were at all how he’d imagined. The dwarves were supposedly rowdy and unruly, and fierce warriors. And one of them was the king of Erebor! Thorin and Bilbo didn’t always fit in completely with the other hobbits, but to Frodo, they were far more interesting.

Kili cleared his throat subtly as he stepped up beside Fili. The Shire was now just in view as the sun was beginning to set. The air was growing even cooler now, nipping at their skin as they walked.

“Seems you owe me three gold.”

Fili laughed brightly, the reminder of their earlier bet - that Thorin would get them lost beyond salvation - catching him off guard. “Seems so.”

“I’ll give you the chance to earn it back,” Kili offered, his face pure mischief.

Fili pursed his lips, shaking his head subtly. Kili had actually mellowed out quite a bit in the years since the quest, becoming a fine advisor to Fili. But something about being out on the road again with the company - and especially their uncle - had brought out some of his childhood chaos. “What did you have in mind?”

Kili leaned in and whispered as quietly as he could. “Three gold if you get him in the head before he stops you.” With that, he held a snowball up that he’d been hiding behind his back.

Fili took it and contemplated. Finally he nodded and winked at his brother. They were nearly at Bag End now; a bit of harmless fun wouldn’t sour hours of future travel, and surely Thorin would let it go once he got home to the Bagginses.

Frodo dropped the cookie he’d been stealing from the tray when he heard the front door push open.

“We’re here!” Thorin’s low voice called out into the hall. He smiled when he saw Bilbo and Frodo’s heads poke out of different rooms.

“Just on time,” Bilbo praised, sounding every bit as relieved as he was.

As the dwarves piled in, they greeted Bilbo with warmth, all talking over each other and taking off their packs and cloaks as they let themselves in.

Frodo stepped over to take Thorin’s cloak from him as the space became chaotic. “Welcome home, uncle.” “Thank you, Frodo.”

“Frodo?” Half the group turned their attention from Bilbo to Frodo now, remarking on his appearance, mainly. None of them had ever met such a young hobbit, apparently, slightly shorter than Bilbo, with bright eyes and dark curls.

Bombur clapped a hand down on Bilbo’s shoulder and gave him a stern look.

“Er- Great to have you again, Bombur.” “Let’s get to work.” “I- beg your pardon?” Bombur rustled the pack over his shoulder. “Food to set out.”

“Oh!” Bilbo blinked in surprise. He hadn’t expected them to bring anything, but perhaps Thorin had suggested it, given the size of the group. “Of course, the kitchen is just in here, as you may remember-”

Just as Bilbo was leading him away, the door swung open again to reveal Fili and Kili, covered in snow, shaking themselves to loose what might come off.

“You’re late,” Bofur teased. “Right, well-” Kili could barely contain his laughter. “Someone pushed us down the hill, and all.”

This sent a fit of laughter through the group as they recalled Thorin getting his revenge on his nephews for the snowballs, and a surge of warmth through Bilbo’s chest as he took heart in the happiness of his fellows. The brothers laughing about mischief they’d caused just felt right somehow. Some things don’t change.

“Well- clean up and let's go sit, shall we?” Bilbo suggested, making his way with Bombur toward the kitchen.

Thorin led the rest of the Company toward the dining room. “Come on, you mongrels!”

The night progressed easily, everyone happily sharing stories and catching up between mountains of goodies and several musical interludes.

Ori had brought them a book he’d scribed about Erebor and its history, including intricate drawings that enthralled Frodo, who was an endless fount of questions for everyone. He learned - only slightly embellished - accounts of Bilbo’s bravery, Thorin’s leadership, everyone’s skills in battle, and more.

As the hour grew late, Bilbo passed around another plate of nut cakes before settling at Thorin’s side to let out a wistful sigh. “I’d missed this,” he admitted quietly, a soft smile playing on his lips as he looked out over the group that was milling about Bag End in total comfort and goodwill.

Thorin placed his hand on Bilbo’s thigh and raised a brow. “Oh?”

“It reminds me a bit of those nights on the road.” He scrunched his nose and mouth about briefly. “I was terribly nervous, back then, mind you. Sure we’d get struck down by orcs, or worse, Smaug. But this is nice.” He turned his attention to Thorin. “Like a family reunion.”

“Only without the fear of stolen cutlery,” Thorin pointed out.

Bilbo laughed brightly, distracting Frodo for a moment, who’d been caught up in one of Kili’s tall tales.

Frodo was glad to see his uncle had relaxed. He’d thought Bilbo might actually have lost his marbles a bit in Thorin’s absence, fretting and wringing his hands as he paced around Bag End for days.

“You’re staying a few days, right?” Frodo asked suddenly. Fili nodded. “That’s right. Just a few days, then most of us will return to Erebor.” “I hope you’ll come again soon. Bilbo really missed you.” Fili and Kili glanced at each other. It was difficult to get away like this, but everyone had been keen to the idea the moment word had gotten around.

Fili nodded. “I suppose we’ll have to.”

Kili leaned in, a grin on his face. “Say, Frodo. Have you ever built a snow dragon?”

When the teen shook his head, Kili clapped his hand down on his brother’s shoulder. “I know what we’re doing tomorrow.”

#tss2022 #happy holidays #the hobbit #bagginshield #reshirement #hobbit fluff #hobbit fanfic

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lycan-troth · 1 year

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Thought about watching one of the Harry Potter films as my Christmas film this year. However, I decided on something more comforting; The Hobbit: The Unexpected Journey.

My favourite bits are at the beginning when Bilbo is recounting the past, Thorin's past, and when he banters with Frodo. It's just so nice to see Frodo as he was before he carried the ring, he's so lively, content and free of trauma. I like when Bilbo saves Thorin from Azog too, that scene on the carrock, when Thorin embraces him. Something I find a little funny is how Frodo resembles Thorin a little bit; blue eyes, somewhat similar shade of hair although it's more like Kili's really, and his gentleness reminds me of The Battle of the Five Armies when Thorin would only show gentle, fond smiles/expressions to Bilbo.

If Thorin behaved more like that on screen, I feel like the sense of resemblance/familiarity might be more obvious. Not to say that they are the same character, they're both rather different but there's still those vague similarities between them. I do ship bagginshield, and I am guilty of indulging in fix-it fics with them being a family with Frodo, so I could very well be biased about the concept. Regardless, it is fun in a sad sort of way to imagine Bilbo being of a similar mindset; scenario being that Thorin is dead and Bilbo sees elements of him in almost everything. So he too could be biased because he sorely wishes that Thorin were alive, but he isn't and its such a hard thing to accept especially because it was traumatising too. So, when he adopted Frodo it would be easy to see glimpses of Thorin in him, merely because it could be what he wanted to see.

In Frodo's soft, fond face he would see that rare gentleness and vulnerability that Thorin showed him near the end. Bilbo would see Thorin in the colours Frodo would fashion and in the way he would quietly observe the world. However, there's plenty of room to argue for the opposite; that Thorin and Frodo are too different, despite how much Bilbo could long to see Thorin in his nephew. Although, it could be a balance or mix of both; that there are just as many similarities as there are differences between them. To be honest, I do tend to dislike in fics where Frodo is very similar to Thorin; to the point that he reads as being an oc almost. I like the idea of them being somewhat at odds because of their differences, which potentially gets in the way of seeing the few similarities they might share. Frodo isn't prone to brood somewhat menacingly like Thorin, he'd grow quiet but he would willingly open up if prompted into conversation. Frodo wouldn't be as knowledgeable about the world or be fuelled with seeking justice; he's motivated by doing what he thinks is the right thing to do like saving The Shire.

Where Thorin would be able to carry on after experiencing great loss, Frodo isn't able to live with the trauma of it in the long run. That isn't to say Frodo is weak because he isn't; it takes great strength and resolve to do what he did in the end. I suppose they might find more common ground in their losses and trauma. Frodo is changed by his journey similar to how Erebor changed Thorin. The greed, that filthy desire for material objects; the arkenstone and the one ring. Both are figurative sicknesses that cause greater harm than imagined. That is something they could have bonded over, and sadly Bilbo too.

This is all just me rambling, but it's fun to think about these concepts; all the what ifs. Majority of these are heavily based on just the trilogy, not the book. I am in the middle of reading it though, a little disappointed at the lack of characterisation from the dwarves so far. I like how different Bilbo is at the start compared to the film; the book characterisation of him is something I'm rather enjoying. And of course I'm always scowering each page for details and mentions of Thorin! Still not too much about him yet, although noticeably he's not nearly as off-putting towards Bilbo as he is in the beginning of the film. Instead he merely tolerates him, well, mostly ignores him. I'm looking forward to Bilbo becoming friends with them all as the story progresses. His relationships with the dwarves are one of my favourite things about the trilogy.

#the hobbit #bilbo baggins #thorin oakenshield #frodo baggins #bagginshield #lotr #ramblings

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i-did-not-mean-to · 1 year

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P - Picnic

For @myeaglesong...

Based on the song My love will never die

Words: 1.1 k

Pairing: Bilbo x Thorin

Warnings: Sadness, canon-compliant death...

Bilbo Baggins sat on a bench in Imladris and frowned, trying hard to get his rheumy eyes to focus on the timeless beauty of his surroundings.

He was Bilbo Baggins still—sometimes, he wondered if he would have changed that name if things had turned out differently.

The thought of Thorin’s secret name—reserved for close kin and spouses—made him smile wistfully.

His face was wrinkled with age and—on those discreet lines—time had written stories of love and loss in the ephemeral ink of precious tears.

From somewhere far away, the lamenting voices of a group of elves reached his ears and Bilbo sighed deeply as memories washed over him.

In his mind, Thorin Oakenshield arose—larger than life—and Bilbo felt as if he could almost touch his bearded cheek, even after all the years that had come between them.

Heroic, strong, and recklessly loyal, Thorin had died to defend and protect his people—Bilbo, on the other hand, had lived with the same goal in mind.

“It is time,” Lord Elrond said softly as he sat down by the old hobbit’s side.

“I won’t say goodbye,” Bilbo replied stubbornly. “I haven’t until now and I shall not start.”

“The world is changing,” the elven lord—who had loved and lost too many not to empathise with Bilbo’s petulant sentiment—remarked as if to himself. “You must see that, old friend, do you not?”

“It is not beyond saving,” Bilbo insisted. “Sea may rise and sky may fall, my love will never die, nor shall my faith waver and wither. He’s not perished in vain…”

Elrond did not make any answer to that—he knew well how it felt to love someone who had passed on to a world barred to the living, no matter how earnestly they yearned to be reunited with their much-missed departed.

“I’ve played my role in this tale bravely,” Bilbo added after a long moment of silence, “and my lad, Frodo, shall pick up where I’ve left off. I shall not bid him farewell either.”

Elrond knew not whether the prodigious stubbornness of the hobbit would withstand the forces moving against them, but—against all logic—he felt ferocious hope bloom in his chest.

He also well remembered the proud dwarven king who had set forth from his realm to reconquer his own and he sincerely regretted that Thorin had not had the chance to enjoy the fruits of his labours.

Even as they sat here, he was not ignorant of how monumentally important it would be in the upcoming war that the brave dwarves rather than a nasty dragon were holding Erebor—maybe, they would even be able to stem the tide of darkness and thus foil the enemy’s meticulous plans.

“Tell me about him then,” Elrond asked humbly and settled in for one of Bilbo’s long, rambling tales.

“He was not completely mad, you know?” Bilbo started. “Let me tell you about the picnic we had on the ramparts after Smaug was ousted and before it all went downhill so quickly.”

Elrond could see that the hobbit was struggling to hold back tears he had suppressed for long years as he opened his soul one last time to the most precious of his treasures—his memories of an adventure that had changed his life in a thousand minute as well as momentous ways.

“Food was scarce still, but Mahal, what a spread Thorin had scraped together for that one afternoon in the sun.”

Tilting his face up in recollection of the crisp air of an Ereborian day, Bilbo fell silent for a few heartbeats.

“How hopeful we were then,” he continued in a slightly unsteady voice, “how foolish. We really believed that we had put the worst behind us and that a life of plenty was awaiting us on the other side of a minor diplomatic discord.”

Quietly, he added, “I was hoping to be asked to stay—as a friend, or even more.”

The tone in which this addendum was uttered made it very clear to Elrond that Bilbo had dreamed of being the consort under the mountain and he cocked his head in surprise; Thorin Oakenshield had struck him as a fearsome warrior—sure—but the thought of him as a gentle, attentive lover had never once come to him before.

“We were happy,” Bilbo said almost defiantly, pulling Elrond out of his distracted musings. “Sitting down above his newly regained kingdom, eating simple buns, and cautiously speaking of a brighter future…it was the most relaxing day we had had in a long time. Would that I could return to that blessed moment.”

There was bitterness and resentment now, slashing through the peaceful, soothing picture Bilbo had drawn like a blade.

“You would change the course of history?” Elrond asked gently—he himself had often wondered whether, if given the chance, he would have prevented the loss of his parents, guardians, and his brother.

He was wise enough to know that such a decision would come with a steep price and would have unforeseen and potentially nefarious consequences for the life he now lived, but he was not entirely sure that he would not have at least tried.

There were many things in his past that festered like ill-tended wounds within the depths of his heart and Elrond knew that he was far from having endured the last of these terrible injuries life and war could inflict upon the gentle and the brave.

“Yes,” Bilbo said firmly. “If I could go back to that day, I would have kissed him then. I would have flung my hobbitish manners and my shrewd fears of commitment off the cliff never to be seen again. I would have begged him not to go—I might even have given him the blasted stone back before it was too late…I don’t know.”

The passionate madness that had filled his eyes for a moment died and his gaze was dull with grief once more.

“We’ll never know,” he sighed bitterly.

“You may not get to change history,” Elrond said in a low, soothing voice, “but you can return to that day, nonetheless.”

He laid a comforting hand on the knobby fingers of his friend.

“Close your eyes and go back. It was a sunny day, you said? What was Thorin wearing? Did he smile?”

Bilbo hummed. “He was wearing Durin-blue—and you’ve never seen anything as splendid as Thorin’s triumphant grin upon leading me by the hand to the ramparts. He truly was as a king of old.”

“I am sure,” Elrond commented softly, mindful not to interrupt or disturb Bilbo’s fantasy. “I’ve known a few of them and yes, they were a sight to behold.”

Thus they sat together for a long time and exchanged glorious stories about the kings they had loved and lost—and they promised one another that they’d find them again, come what may.

@fellowshipofthefics Here's my first entry for the April Alphabet.

Many thanks to the first requester @myeaglesong <3

-> Masterlist

As always,

Lots of love from me ❤️❤️❤️

#og post #IDNMT writes #fanfiction #writing #tolkien writing #jrrt #Hobbit #LOTR #My love will never die #AG #Claire Windham #Bagginshield #Thorin x Bilbo #P picnic

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sunnyrosewritesstuff · 4 months

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This is my favorite review segment! These are self-chosen and I swear every year it gets harder!

Top 5 Writings of 2023

5. Temporarily in Different Worlds

Thorin pulled him in close and held him tightly as he shut his eyes against the place where he would be forced to watch Bilbo leave him. Thorin pulled back only far enough to meet Bilbo’s lips, pressing and sucking as if he could drink the ocean straight from Bilbo’s mouth. Bilbo was the one to break their kiss, but only leaning far enough away for their foreheads to still be pressed together.

“I love you, Thorin.” He murmured.

“I love you, too. Promise me you’ll be safe?”

“I promise.”

“Promise me you’ll come back?”

Bilbo’s lips quirked in a small smile. “Now that I’ve found you, nothing but ice could keep me away.”

4. The Twelve Transformations of Bilbo Baggins

“So this quest…it’s to get back the part that makes you feel incomplete?” Bilbo questioned.

“Yes, but not in the way I thought.” Thorin grumbled.

Bilbo watched as he seemed to be trying to pick through his words. He had to wonder how much harder it was for him to have this conversation in Westron instead of his native language of Khuzdul.

“You see, my father’s was Family. He always knew he was going to find that in another person. But my mother’s was Creating. So she threw herself into her work as a smith and no one, not even the Crown Prince, was going to distract her. But there’s a feeling you get when you know you’ve found ‘a right path’. It’s a warmth that consumes your entire being, and therefore, if you’re ever in danger of losing it…it’s coldness that nearly robs you of all your senses. It was this feeling my mother felt when my father was injured in an orc attack that made her realize, he was her path. And she ended up with her greatest creations, or so she said, my siblings and me.”

Bilbo smiled, thinking of his own mom at that point. She always called him her ‘greatest adventure’.

“Did you feel the coldness when Smaug came?” He asked, curious about this One business.

“Yes.” Thorin admitted slowly. “But there was another time I felt it.”

“When?”

Thorin’s gaze, which had drifted, immediately snapped back to connect with Bilbo. Holding him in his earnesty that had Bilbo’s toes curling at the foreign sensation.

“With you. When you were being held by two trolls, threatened to be ripped apart."

3. Ambassador to Madness

Bilbo thought about the sheer sleeves again, and felt like his entire face would catch fire at any moment as he realized the level of unrespectability he had been enduring.

“Thorin, have I been appearing…prurient?”

What could only be described as a whine came from Thorin taking Bilbo’s embarrassment to mortification.

“Sweet Yavanna! I can’t do this now. Just what was Bifur thinking?!”

“It is very tastefully handled! Everyone here is just going to think that you’re…”

“Promiscuous?” Bilbo growled.

“...exotic.”

“Why did Bifur do this to me?” Bilbo groaned.

“Because he’s a very good tailor.” Thorin mumbled under his breath.

2. Just to See You Happy

“Balin.” Bilbo’s voice wobbled. “Why are you doing this? Is it…because of him?”

Frodo had so many questions. Who were they talking about? And why did it make them so sad? After a long moment, Balin released a sigh.

“Much like Erebor, the loss of Khazad-dum is an injustice that we can finally correct. Are you asking if our previous adventure still affects me? Well, lad, doesn’t it us all?”

And 1! A Light in the Dark

Thorin immediately ducked his head, and if Bilbo wasn’t so sure it was an emotion he deemed beyond Thorin Oakenshield, he would almost say that he reacted shyly.

“I also don’t like the dark.” He claimed in a soft, near whisper. “I wasn’t afraid of it, but…mountain caves are darker than dark. I mean, look at this.”

Thorin’s arms swept out over the view before them.

“The stars, the moon, even your insects. Even when it’s dark you can still see. The mountain isn’t like that. You’re just…trapped and blind. And the pressure! There is nothing like the pressure of having an entire mountain looming above you, and you’re the one who has to shoulder the responsibility, you’re the one who has to rise to meet their expectations…”

Of course, there were some that I couldn't throw away when I was making my list so here's my honorable mention list! If there's a scene or line that I wrote this year that didn't make it on this list but you felt like it should...feel free to add on!

To Spoon Feed You Comfort (New WIP)

He continued his thought though in that low, deep drawl of his. “I had you pegged five seconds into our meeting.”

Bilbo swallowed around the tight lump forming in his throat.

“Please, enlighten me.” Bilbo challenged.

Thorin held eye contact for a long moment, before his shoulders squared back, as if in effort to pull himself up taller. Bilbo refused to be cowed though, which seemed to be noticed by the twitch in Thorin’s eyebrow and the quirk of his lips.

“You have the biggest burrow in the town. I noticed as I passed by…twice, thinking it had to be an inn or a palace.”

Bilbo opened his mouth to interrupt, but Thorin continued.

“So you are a hobbit lord which means you probably have too much time and too much money on your hands. You are polite, kind-hearted, considering you haven’t thrown us out yet, but you don’t go out of your way to help people if tonight has been any indicator. You thirst for adventure, as noted by the sheer volume of maps on your walls, but you fear danger. Because why else would you still be here?

And that’s what can’t be overlooked. I can handle spoiled, pompous, inexperience, but your fear would doom us. All I’ve asked of my kin is loyalty, honor, and a willing heart. I can afford to accept no less from you. And if that is something you can’t give, stay here.”

Bilbo swallowed and swallowed again after Thorin had finished, his eyes having fallen to his toes long before Thorin had finished. It was perhaps the third time that he tried to speak that he realized he absolutely hated how close to the truth Thorin actually managed to land. The only part Bilbo felt he could argue was he wasn’t kind-hearted. He hasn’t felt anything but cold and numb in that cavity for a very long time.

Seeing Stars

“I don’t hate you.”

Bilbo honestly didn’t know what to say to that. Thank you? It certainly didn’t help Bilbo’s current predicament any as his body already began to mistake Thorin’s assurance as a confession. Before Bilbo could even breath a word though, Thorin gave a pained cry before crumpling to the ground. Gollum stood behind him with an oversized rock looking rather proud of himself before scrambling away.

Webcam

“Not the butter, you brute!”

Oakenshield: Prince or Thief? (New WIP)

“Well you are proving to be a very accommodating captive. Do you do this often?”

“You’d be the first who dare attempt it.” Thorin responded.

“Ah.” The hobbit grinned before leaning in to whisper in Thorin’s ear. “I’ll be sure to take it nice and slow then.”

#sunny says stuff #year in review #top 5 writings #were any of these you guys favorites?#tell me more!

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thelibraryoferebor · 1 year

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You guessed it! Oneshots (Mahal help us all)

The Stubbornness of Dwarves by Khazadqueen (ama)

|| teen - 6.8k - completed ||

Legolas's attempts at courting Gimli have fallen flat on their face. Somehow, Dwalin finds himself playing matchmaker--neither of them are really sure how it happens.

Not Quite First Sight by Ita

|| general - 2.7k - completed ||

After a heavy dose of dwarvish medicine, Thorin falls for his intended all over again.

In More Than the Wisdom of Years by jezebel_rising

|| not rated - 4.2k - completed ||

A kink-meme fill with the prompt: So the battle happened and Thorin lived (barely, but he's managed to escape death) his nephews too. The treasure has been divided and Elves and Men went on their way. Dwarves are set on rebuilding Erebor to its former glory and there's just one little thing left unsolved - setting their burglar on the way.

I would pretty much like it form the point of view of Dis, who just arrived to Erebor to take care of her boys (brother included) and sees what a mess Thorin's made of everything.

The fill kind of went sideways from the original prompt. Hope you all enjoy!

Once More by RainyDayDecaf

|| general - 4.9k - completed ||

Bilbo thought he would be ready for this moment. For meeting Thorin Oakenshield for the first time, for the second time. He has never been more wrong in all his life.

Never Forgotten by DesertLily

|| general - 1.2k - completed ||

Bilbo Baggins dies peacefully in his home a month before his eleventy-first birthday. He leaves behind a nephew and a forgotten love half a world away.

So Crowned by Howland

|| general - 4.1k - completed ||

If Bilbo's said it once he's said it a thousand times before. He doesn't even like jewels.

---

Thorin, Bilbo, and choosing a Consort's crown.

Scrumptious by kathkin

|| general - 1.1k - completed ||

“Well,” said Frodo, stirring his tea. “The good news is I met my new neighbour this morning and he’s very handsome.”

“Oh, yes? What’s the bad news?”

“The bad news is I can never talk to him again."

Predilections by kathkin

|| general - 7.5k - completed ||

Sam had always thought of himself as a very open-minded hobbit - but it could be that there was a difference between knowing that Mister Frodo did things, things certain other hobbits might say were unnatural, in his bedchamber, and seeing him there in his nightshirt with another lad’s hands all over him.

In which Sam walks in on Frodo in a compromising position and comes to a realisation (eventually).

It Runs in the Family by Imagined

|| teen - 9.6k - completed ||

At first, Bilbo is very glad to hear of the new alliance between Erebor and the Shire. He is even more excited when he learns that some of his family members are coming to the Lonely Mountain to discuss the details.

That is, until the dwarves (and Thorin, who is decidedly not and never shall be his) start getting along a little too well with one of his more adventurous cousins, and Bilbo starts doubting about his place.

All the Rivers Sound in My Body by pibroch (littleblackdog)

|| teen - 5.7k - completed ||

As much as he might like to cut a natty figure in a proper waistcoat and trousers with a reasonable inseam, Bilbo knew there were many more important things to bother with at the moment.

Rebuilding an entire dwarven kingdom, for one. And airing out the stink of dragon would be nice as well.

#No notes #just a list #find the librarian @thelibrarianoferebor #thilbo #dwalin #Bilbo baggins #thorin #one shots #fic rec #erebor

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bisexualbumblebee-writes · 1 year

Text

Hidden Blessings Part 1- Bilbo Baggins x OC

Bilbo Baggins x Pandora Pott

Description: Hidden blessings can be found in many things, and it doesn’t take a genius to find Bilbo’s.

Word Count: 1.8k

People often say that blessings come at the most unexpected times. For Bilbo Baggins of Bag-End, it came on an originally peaceful night in the form of sixteen Dwarves, an Elf, and a Wizard. At first he thought it was actually a curse for something not nice that he’d done recently (perhaps it was telling Lobelia Sackville-Baggins that he felt a burning desire to be alone after talking to her).

But, they also say blessings come in disguise. And that came in the form of the Fairy that later joined the (less than fine mannered) Company in his dining room. Pandora Potts was, for lack of a better term, a revelation. A mix of contradictions that blended so well together that made her the ethereal and exquisite being that she is.

During the quest to reclaim Erebor, he continually wondered how Bofur and Gemma could keep such a devotion to each other even after years of marriage. Surely they would have gotten tired of each other by now, right? It wasn’t until after he and Pandora married that he understood how the Dwarves could keep their love everlasting, because now he had his Gemma in Pandora.

Together he and Pandora made a home for themselves in Bag-End, where they lived happily. Every morning both Bilbo and Pandora felt joy course through them when they realized that they had once again woken up next to the love of their life. And that feeling stayed with them for the rest of the day until they ultimately fell asleep at each other’s sides. Bilbo always said that Pandora was his blessing in disguise, and he believed it wholeheartedly.

Another hidden blessing that occurred in his life was oddly (and morbidly) his cousins Drogo and Primula’s deaths. Bilbo had always been close to the couple as well as the young Frodo and it stayed that way even after the quest. They were some of the very few that remained close with him and welcomed the fairy with open arms when they returned.

Pandora had been with him when he’d gotten the news that the couple had drowned in a boating accident. He was devastated, and he couldn’t even imagine how five year old Frodo must have been feeling. The couple didn’t even think twice about adopting the young Hobbit, signing the papers immediately. There was a brief learning period of understanding how to take care of a child, but things went along smoothly once they accepted each other’s behaviors. Rather than call Bilbo and Pandora his cousins, Frodo called them uncle and aunt, and they settled into a system full of love yet again. Frodo was Bilbo’s second blessing in disguise.

Today had been a very exciting day indeed. Frodo had decided he wanted his friends to come over and play in Bag-End with him. Bilbo and Pandora had a hard time saying no to him, so they allowed it. Frodo’s (and Bilbo’s) other cousins Merry Brandybuck and Pippin Took, along with their friends Brooke Bilberry, Camelia Tunnelly, Samwise Gamgee and Adelaide Stoor had come over and were playing outside with Bilbo as Pandora baked a lemon cake for a snack during afternoon tea in the kitchen. She had just put the cake in the oven when she heard a knock on the door, which made her snap in its direction.

“Bilbo, can you get the door?” She called out the open back window. “I need to clean up!”

“Just a moment dear,” Bilbo called in response. When she looked outside she saw him crouched beside a bench a few feet away with Samwise and Camelia at his side, as if looking for something.

“Let me find the rest of the children then I will.” Pandora huffed a small laugh. He was just trying to get out of greeting visitors first. He’d kept that “I like visitors as much as the next Hobbit, but I do like to know before they come visiting,” thought process. She shook her head in both amusement and annoyance before wiping her hands on her apron and walking over to the front door, opening it.

“Good after-” Pandora was cut off by herself as she froze in the doorway, processing what company lay on the other side. Well, not what company, who’s company.

“Kili, Dori, Nori, Ori, Óin, Glóin, Bifur, Bofur, Bombur, Gemma, and Nessa, eleven out of the nineteen members of the Company of Thorin Oakenshield,” Kili introduced before all eleven of them bowed simultaneously.

“At your service,” the group said in unison. It only took Pandora a split second before she reacted, pulling the closest person in for a hug. It ended up being Kili, who stood at the head of the group (likely since he was an official royal now).

“Oh Eru I can’t believe it!” She exclaimed happily as the Dwarf hugged her back. The rest of the Company piled into the house and joined in the hug.

“What are you all doing here?” She asked, still slightly in shock but more in joy, as they eventually pulled away in unison. They had no time to respond to their greeting before she heard her nephew’s voice from behind her.

“Who is at the door?” As he finished his question, then looked at the many people at the door. The Company was surprised to see a young boy in the house, and he looked just as surprised to see them. Wordlessly, he stepped behind her legs and clutched the skirt of her dress, peering around nervously at their guests.

“Uh, Frodo, these are some dear friends of mine,” Pandora finally explained after gathering her thoughts, picking the young boy up and resting him on her hip. “Everyone, this is Frodo.” The Company barely got to process this information before another voice called out.

“Dora?” Bilbo’s voice echoed through the house as many footsteps approached. Just a second later the Hobbit appeared with Merry, Pippin, Camelia, Brooke, Sam and Adelaide surrounding him. Once his eyes landed on their guests he froze.

That, in turn, made the children bump into him then fall over one by one, Pippin landing closest to the Company. Pandora watched as the young boy’s eyes trailed up to Bifur, who stood closest to their hosts. The two of them had a short staredown before Pippin squeaked in both surprise and fear then shot up, copying Frodo’s train of thought in hiding behind Pandora for comfort. The Fairy couldn’t help but laugh softly, which broke the tension immediately as Bilbo stepped forward to greet their old friends.

“It feels too good to be true,” he said upon pulling away from the last Dwarf.

“Tell me about it,” Bofur laughs, clapping him on the back. “Feels like years since we’ve been here.”

“Because it has been years, Bo,” Gemma retorted while playfully rolling her eyes. The others laughed at the interaction before Bofur glanced at the children. Pandora could almost see the cogs turning in his head as he seemingly counted all of them.

“Five…six…” he whispered under his breath before breathing out a laugh and facing Bilbo once more. “Well lad, I didn’t think you had it in you. Seven little ones, you two got busy quick, didn’t you?” He nudged the Hobbit’s arm with his elbow. His comment made both Bilbo and Pandora’s cheeks go red and they were quick to deny it.

“Oh no, no, no, no,” Bilbo said quickly.

“They aren’t ours,” Pandora interjected.

“Not by blood anyway,” the Hobbit added.

“Well,” Pandora started, attempting to figure out the technicalities of Bilbo being related to Frodo, Merry and Pippin by blood, when Gemma interrupted.

“If they’re not yours, then why are they in your house?” She tilted her head a bit, and the Hobbit and Fairy sighed, glancing at each other before facing her again.

“Well, I guess Frodo and I are related. He’s my cousin’s son,” he explained.

“We adopted him after his parents passed,” she added as she gestured Merry and Pippin forward, which they did. “Merry and Pippin are also related to them, and Samwise, Camelia, Brooke and Adelaide are just his friends. They’re having a play date today.”

“What does ‘get busy’ mean?” Samwise asked innocently before anyone could say anything else.

“Nothing the adults answered simultaneously before promptly bursting into laughter.

“Well everyone, please make yourself at home,” Bilbo implored, beginning to lead everyone towards the living room. “Though, I’m afraid we don’t have much food aside today.”

“Don’t worry about that,” Dori waved off. “We ate just before we got here, we learned from last time.” That made the others laugh as everyone took a seat either on the couch, on the floor, in a chair or they just continued to stand. Pandora set Frodo down to go play with the other children before squeezing in beside Bilbo in his armchair.

“Excuse me if this is rude, but what are you all doing this far East?” She finally asked what she and Bilbo had both been thinking. “And where is everyone else?”

“Well,” Kili started, glancing at Nessa excitedly before looking at them again. “As you know, since the Dwarves have moved back to Erebor, the rebuilding has been going on.” The couple nodded confusedly. The Prince looked like he was about to burst with happiness to the point that he almost couldn’t talk, so Nessa decided to take over.

“The rebuilding is almost complete,” she explained, which made Bilbo and Pandora visibly perk up. “It should be done in nearly a month’s time.” Just the sound of it made everyone cheer quite loudly, which effectively scared the little ones. Pandora leaned forward as Camelia rushed into her arms, seeking solace.

“You guys, that’s amazing!” She exclaimed jovially as she ran her fingers through the young Hobbit’s hair. The others looked quite proud of themselves, which made her and Bilbo laugh.

“And we,” Kili continued, gesturing around at the others. “Figured that we should come give you a personal invitation on behalf of Uncle.”

“Invitation to what?” Bilbo questioned confusedly.

“Thorin is planning a ball to celebrate the conclusion of the rebuilding,” Bifur responded, and Pandora had to stop herself from squealing at the fact that she could finally understand her dear friend.

“We figured that it would be just a shame if we didn’t invite the Hobbit and Fairy that made it all possible and surprise him,” Bofur added, receiving nods all around.

“Wait,” Bilbo held up his hand. “Thorin doesn’t know you’re here?”

“That would sort of ruin the surprise,” Gemma giggled. We’re all finishing up our homes and getting used to working, so we don’t see him everyday anyways. He won’t notice if we’re not around, and even if he does, Sienna, Fili, Celeste, Dwalin and Balin can just brush it off as us being busy.”

“So, what do you say?” Kili questioned eagerly.

“Will you come?” Ori asked hopefully. Bilbo and Pandora looked at each other simultaneously, and they could instantly tell what the other was thinking. They smiled in unison then faced the Company.

“When do we leave?”

#the hobbit #the hobbit imagine #bilbo baggins #bilbo baggins imagine #bilbo x oc

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gracehateseggnog · 14 hours

Text

talwynn of the fey realm ˚˖𓍢ִ໋ legolas x oc

summary: a few days out from rivendell, the fellowship meet an odd character on her way to helm's deep for a peculiar mission not so different from their own.

pairing: legolas x fey!oc

word count: 6.3k

a/n: this is the first chapter of legolas & talwynn's story. if you want more context, check out the battle of helm's deep author's note to understand a bit more.

tw: probably a lot of incorrect lore. again, fairly new fan.

gif creds: unknown

The Fellowship of The Ring had come to fruition after little persuasion yet much gambling on Gandalf’s part. Aragorn, son of Arathorn, the heir to Isildur’s throne took the end of the group, protecting and honouring his oath to keep an eye on Frodo, to defend the Hobbit with his life until they had returned from Mordor. Legolas, son of the elven King Thranduil, was just shortly ahead of him, turning his head back to look at his dear friend to converse every once in a while, but mostly keeping vigilant in his surroundings, his right hand holding tightly to the wood of his bow. Gimli, son of Glóin, walked beside Legolas, much to the elf’s disappointment, his axe swinging across his body with every step across the grassy hills he took. Samwise’s pony, Bill, carried the group’s excess supplies, such as rations and clothing from Rivendell, through their journey in front of Aragorn, Gimli, and Legolas. The four Hobbits, Frodo, Samwise, Merry, and Pippin took the lead of the group with Gandalf and Boromir their only heads.

Deep valleys became their only view ahead, sipping deep beneath the mountainous earth and revealing a large, daunting river and waterfall beneath them and blocking their path directly into Mordor. The Misty Mountains were due east of their path, towards the Gap of Rohan, which they had planned to stay, on behalf of Gimli’s quite adamant instruction. He had a sort of cousin living in the gap, a leader that held his people, made up of many dwarves, inside of the gap. Legolas wasn’t truly paying much attention to what Gimli was saying, though it quickly became a harrowing challenge to hinder the arrogant dwarf’s words from weaseling into his head. Thankfully, no wind had cursed their tenth day out from Rivendell, not even as they neared the mountains that Frodo’s uncle, Bilbo Baggins, had crossed sixty years ago in search of the ancient dragon Smaug. Frodo couldn’t help but be reminded of the story Bilbo had told him, and as he walked, it continuously felt like he was continuing what his uncle had started with the ring.

“Yur’ seem lost in thought there, Leggy. What’s on that mind o’ yur’s?” Gimli’s voice rang through the elf’s ears, his deep, broad tone making the tips of them flutter from the sheer volume the dwarf could produce. He was shorter than most on the journey, but he was most definitely the loudest of them all.

“If you must know, Gimli, I’m thinking about how much quicker this journey would go by if you weren’t speaking.” Legolas replied shortly, his fingers flexing against the handle of his bow as he looked out towards the valley of water to the west.

“Legolas.” Aragorn sighed, yet concealed his amused expression as they walked on. He knew as well as any other in the group how much the elf despised Gimli, whether it was because of the battle of Erebor or simply because he hated the dwarf in particular, that Aragorn did not know.

Legolas just hated Gimli. “He asked the question, Aragorn. And a foolish one, at that. Why are you so keen to understand what I think about?”

“I am just curious!” Gimli defended.

“Perhaps you should stay curious. One does not need to know everything they wonder about.”

“We are surrounded by wonder! It’s not my fault I wish to have some relief from all this thinking.”

“I doubt you do much of it, Gimli, you need not worry your thoughtless head.”

“Hey!”

Aragon heaved another sigh, yet it was no mask to cover amusement this time, it was only in the best interest of the entire group, of which most had turned their heads at Gimli’s sudden exclamation. “Legolas—”

“There is no need for interjection, Aragorn, I was done speaking.” Legolas shook his head, looking once at Gimli without so much of a revealing emotion as a huff, whilst the red-bearded dwarf crossed his arms against his chest, tucking his axe handle in between.

“You are a piece of work, elf. Like most of your kind.” Gimli scoffed.

“It is called resilience.”

“It is called stubbornness!”

“Enough. Both of you.” Aragorn’s voice was firm, but not heavy-weighted. He was not angry with his dearest friend nor the dwarf, though he had purpose and means to protect the Fellowship from gaining any excess attention than what they already had, and the loud fighting was no help. “If there were Orcs on the other side of the mountains, they would have heard you both bickering, and we would soon be dead by their black poison.”

“He started it—”

“Gimli, is this not a child’s game?” The dwarf felt as if this was a conversation worthy enough to stop in the road for, but Aragorn and Legolas kept walking forward, along with the rest of the group. “Passing the blame will get us no further than Rohan before the Fellowship is disbanded due to your differences. As much as I am sure it pains you both greatly, you can not sacrifice Frodo’s purpose.”

The back of the group fell into silence save for their harsh footsteps against soft, grassy ground. Rivendell had been nearly two weeks ago. It felt to Legolas he had parted from his people far too soon, but he knew that Bilbo’s ring had to be destroyed with as much haste as the Fellowship could offer, and that meant an equally hasty goodbye to his father and Tauriel. It was true that he had felt homesick as soon as he had departed from Mirkwood, as soon as his home had vanished behind him, and a new journey opened up in front of him. Something in him had known it would be long before he returned, but no amount of homesickness could balance the scale of what needed to be done with the ring. Gandalf had brought him to council for a reason, had accepted his help when he offered it for a reason, and he was standing alongside his oldest friend, Aragorn, for a reason. He had to push his longing for his normal life to the side, and make way for the excitement and thrill of a new adventure—

A small pressure pushed onto Legolas’ back and disappeared just as soon as it had gone, followed by a short squeak and a thumping noise against the grass beneath him. Whatever had landed so forcefully against him, a bird, a rather large insect, or perhaps even an arrow that had torn open the back of his green, elven tunic, had the sound of human shock. Legolas couldn’t trust a familiar tone of voice, though he had heard many tales of beasts that mimicked the voices of those who they killed in the past. He twisted around carefully, his hand flipping his bow into a position he could easily pull from, and his other fiddling with his quiver of arrows. In front of him, nothing but the horizon. Above, nothing but the sky. Below, nothing but grass, except for a small, moving, blob of red. His eyes adjusted, and he could see clearly what had run into his upper back so quickly.

A fey. Small, winged with dragonfly-like glides attached to her back, fluttering off the dust that had accumulated from her tall fall to the ground. The flash of red Legolas had seen was of her outfit, which he could scarcely make out the details of from his suddenly towering height. She had ashy blonde hair, much darker than yet so similar to his own, but his was braided and straight as a boar’s, while hers was messily curled into many different patterns, wisps flying across her face and into her blue eyes. Though he could not see it from his position, the fey’s eyes matched the colour of her wings, alighting in reflection of the sun and finally ridding themselves of the rest of the dirt that had latched onto them. Legolas hadn’t seen a fey in his lifetime which was incredibly rare, considering how long he had lived. Of course, his father Thranduil had mentioned a few in his many stories, but they had disappeared into just that, folklore and legends that travelled down through generations of elves, dwarves, Hobbits, and humans.

“Legolas?” Aragorn called, now a few feet from the elven prince who had turned around.

“Just a moment.” Legolas replied.

He watched as the fey’s wings began to flutter quicker, letting her rise to meet his eye level. Here, he could see everything about her. A red outfit that reminded him of what Tauriel would wear on casual occasions, not a dress yet not pants, a mix between the two that told Legolas she was on an adventure, as well. Her darkened blonde hair glistened in the light and so did her wings, fluttering with a slight ‘bzz’-ing sound following each movement that kept her upright in the air. A brown satchel he hadn’t noticed before was strewn across her torso, the flap closed tightly with a golden buckle yet still moving through the slight breeze as it wandered through the valley, not affecting Legolas but affecting the fey greatly as she swayed back and forth. Curious, nobody had mentioned her kind in hundreds of years, not since Sauron had been banished in the Second Age, it was quite intriguing that this fey had suddenly appeared during the Fellowship’s journey to destroy the ring he had once used to return to his full power all those years ago.

“My greatest apologies!” The fey spoke hurriedly to Legolas, and he wondered if she knew his title by the way she was acting. “I am in quite the rush, I was looking to the Misty Mountains, and was not paying attention to my direction.”

“It is quite alright.” Legolas nodded, but didn’t smile.

“Maybe you could help my cause!”

“Oh?”

“I am in search of Gandalf the Grey, I was told he could help me in a very important search of mine.”

Legolas was not surprised when Gandalf appeared beside him, sensing the presence of the fey in need of his help. His appearance to the back of the group had halted the Fellowship completely, and Legolas looked back to see Frodo and the other Hobbits stopped with Aragorn, Boromir, and Gimli at their sides. The ancient wizard had seen better times, his eyes scornful with age and determination, but they seemed to soften as they looked upon the fey flying in front of Legolas’ face. He knew then that Gandalf had seen this fey before, that much was clear, though Gandalf seemed to have been aware of everything that went on in Middle-Earth, whether or not it concerned him. Aragorn stepped closer to the newfound group, his eyes catching the fey and furrowing deeply. Her race had been talked about in legend for years in many families, surely including the Gondorian royal family, and most definitely not excluding the tales of Hobbits and dwarves. But that is exactly what the fey had been to them until now, legends and tall tales, now there stood, or rather flew, one in front of the Fellowship.

“I am Gandalf, Gandalf is me.” The old wizard introduced himself, a wary eye from Legolas still on the fey as he spoke. “Why do you search for me?”

“It is an honour, Gandalf the Grey.” She bowed in the air, holding one palm against her stomach as she looked back up, turning to face Gandalf instead of the blonde elf. “On behalf of my people, I am in request of your help in the search of the Hurbryn Amulet in Helm’s Deep.”

“Helm’s Deep?” Legolas wondered aloud.

“Your people have been enshrouded in darkness since the Second Age,” Gandalf stated. “Why have you emerged now?”

“There have been rumours of Sauron’s plans to enact his full potential and strength once again, to cover Middle-Earth in shadow. We have been preparing for this since our concealment all those years ago. We have an army to offer, but we are of no use unless we can find the amulet.” She replied. “We have been in contact with the dwarves of Erebor, and they have offered to melt down the amulet to supply our warriors in the Fey Realm.”

“Hmm…” Gandalf hummed, tapping at the bottom of his pipe, charring his middle and index finger with the scorched Southlinch. “And you are a warrior?”

“Yes.” She answered, turning to the side and showing a sheathed sword, though it took the size of something more comparable to a toothpick. “But I am of little use without the amulet, all of us are. The Hurbryn Amulet is our only hope to grow to human size and fight, without it, we will be forced to enshroud ourselves again.”

“We will be passing through Helm’s Deep on our way to Mordor.”

“To Mordor?!” The fey exclaimed. “Sauron’s power must be greater than we originally thought.”

“If you wish, I can offer you passage to Helm’s Deep alongside our Fellowship.” Gandalf adjusted his hold on his magical staff, crunching it further into the dirt and grass beneath. “But I can not offer safety. We are being hunted by Sauron’s Nine Riders. You will not be safe as long as you are with us.”

“I am not safe without you, either, sir Gandalf.” She replied. “Orcs have been migrating from Mordor and moving west, they mean to end the Fey Realm, I fear that Sauron is aware of our army and wishes to see it destroyed before I can return the amulet.”

“I see.”

“You must understand that I will be of little help without it, all I can bring is my sight ahead. If you will still have me despite this, I will gladly join your cause as far as Helm’s Deep.” She ended her remark with another short bow, this time addressed to the group that had gathered at the commotion; Gandalf, Legolas, Aragorn, Boromir, and Frodo. “I am Talwynn, daughter of Mabonan, honourable soldier of the Fey Realm. I thank you endlessly for your help.”

One by one, Gandalf introduced the Fellowship to Talwynn. “This is Aragorn, son of Arathorn, Isildur’s heir to Gondor.” Aragorn, his hair wet and slightly curled from the humidity, nodded respectfully to the fey.

“Oh! Your majesty,” Talwynn bowed again.

“There is no need, Lady Talwynn.” Aragorn shook his head, dismissing her use of his proper name. “I dismissed my title long ago, Aragorn is enough.”

Talwynn nodded politely, and Gandalf continued, gesturing to the blonde elf beside him. “This is Legolas, son of King Thranduil of the Elves.” He stated.

“King Thranduil had a son?” Talwynn inquired aloud.

“Are you familiar with my father?” Legolas asked.

“My brother, Faeber, is a messenger, and he frequented Mirkwood often to keep trade and diplomatic relationships well with your father.” Talwynn answered. “They haven’t spoken in many years, not since the quest to find the Hurbryn Amulet has begun, it has taken all of our resources without reserve.”

Legolas nodded in understanding, keeping respectful of Gandalf’s time and deciding to speak to Talwynn about her knowledge of his father later on. The old wizard continued, “Boromir, son of Denethor the second, valiant warrior of Gondor.” Talwynn met each name with a polite bow of her head, strands of blonde hair falling into her eyes. “Gimli, son of Glóin, fearless dwarf fighter of the House of Durin. Our Frodo, nephew of Bilbo Baggins, leader of our journey to Mordor. And over there,” Gandalf gestured to their path onwards, where the other Hobbits were gallivanting around. “Samwise, Pippin, and Merry.”

“It is an honour to be alongside you all for this journey, truly.” Talwynn nodded.

“We shan’t waste another moment.” Gandalf remarked, looking to the sun before turning back around to face the other Hobbits. “This walk will take us forty days, I assume you do not want to make it fifty?” He scorned the shorter fellows, and they immediately straightened back into place, walking shortly behind the wizard so they could ask him questions.

Boromir and Aragorn nodded to Legolas and Talwynn before joining the pony, talking amongst themselves about Gondor as the adventure continued. Gimli stayed near Legolas, but let him keep the rear of the group and remained a few feet ahead of the elf. The fey kept alongside the archer, perhaps she felt his skills would be the most useful if she was attacked, but she also enjoyed his company, even after only knowing of him for a few moments. She hovered beside his right shoulder, keeping an eye out for any sign of danger whilst also letting her eyes gaze intently over the beautiful landscape of the outskirts of Bruinen. Talwynn had been outside of the Fey Realm plenty in comparison to many of her kin, but she rarely ever ventured outside of Cardolan, the surrounding area. She had never been so close to the Misty Mountains, and knowing she was going to climb through rich valleys and rivers and fly above forests and plains made her nearly vibrate with excitement, her wings fluttering doubly.

The blonde elf noticed the fey’s natural inclination to stay close to him, which was endearing. Legolas, alongside most of the company, had never met one of her kind before, and though he was curious, he reserved his many questions about her and her brother’s relationship to and knowledge of his father in an attempt to remain suspicious about her character. He was not one to trust easily, despite how it may seem with Frodo and the Hobbits, but he had cared about them as soon as Gandalf had entrusted their protection with Aragorn, Boromir, Gimli, and him. Talwynn had not asked for protection, but she also had not given them her story. She was looking for an amulet Legolas knew nothing about, but it was clearly enough for Gandalf to offer her sanctuary with the Fellowship, and he judged character better than anyone in the group, so there was truly no need to be wary, but Legolas kept his guard up. It was what his father had taught him to do in order to protect his people and to protect himself. But being cautious did not mean he could not be curious. “My father never spoke of the fey people.” Legolas broke the silence.

Talwynn looked to him, and he felt her gaze boring into the side of his head, even as he looked on towards the leader of the pack, Gandalf, who had gained a healthy distance. “The elves are the only race we continue to keep relations with, they are the only ones who know we were not destroyed by Sauron in the Second Age.” She replied. “We requested he never spoke about the alliance, and we would not have requested his help if we did not gravely need it, but we were lacking fundamental resources to keep our people alive.”

“You became myths and legends, only to be repeated in writing.”

“We could not allow Sauron to discover he had not burned the rest of us. Living in fear was better than not living at all, and we knew, without the amulet, we would not be able to survive a second time.”

“He destroyed your people?”

“Nearly. Thranduil, your father, warned us one month before Sauron’s attack. He gave us enough time to hide the Fey Realm completely from the outside world, his heed is why we have stayed so close to the Mirkwood elves. For that I have never gotten to thank him.”

“My father is not one for thanks in words, he must see in your people something worthwhile.”

“My brother said the same. Thranduil saw our community, our resilience, how prepared we were to fight alongside the elven army if Sauron returned to Middle-Earth, that is why he has given us protection for so many years.”

“He has changed since then.” Legolas finally turned his head to look at Talwynn, whose eyes were glistening with the reflection of the Misty Mountains ahead. “He is not so willing to give anymore, not to those who will not give anything in return.”

“My brother said that, too. When Sauron is finally defeated, the Fey Realm will open again, for the first time since the Second Age. It will be a glorious day, and the fruits and animals that grow on our soils that we have been nurturing for the last thousands of years will be open unto every Middle-Earthian trade route, and Mirkwood will have first pick.”

“Your people have thought about this moment.”

Talwynn turned her head to look at Legolas, a hint of a smile gracing her lips at his remark. “It is all we have thought about since the Fey Realm closed. We did not want to be separated from the rest of Middle-Earth, to be conjured and remembered as fables told to children before bed, but it was our only choice, we were outnumbered and outmanned in every area of war, Sauron would have extinguished our people with the flick of a finger. So, underneath the thick ivy that held us prisoner under our own defenses, we planned and we prepared for the moment that would trigger Sauron’s growth, and that day is seemingly not far.”

Legolas nodded thoughtfully, looking out onto the horizon as they bared west around stone ruins, the remnants of a castle taken by the course of time. “Gandalf is certain this will be Sauron’s last stand, but he is also skeptical that we will make it to Mordor in time.”

“And what do you believe?”

“Hm?”

“You seem one of the more level-headed companions of your group, although that is not much to say when you are travelling with four Hobbits, a wizard, and a seemingly quite temperamental dwarf,” Talwynn smiled, amused at the travelling group she had found herself in on the way to Helm’s Deep. “You are also an elf, you have lived many years longer than the Man that walk alongside you. Do you believe you will make it to Mordor before Sauron casts his eternal Shadow across Middle-Earth?”

Though Legolas stilled, he did not stop moving, but his brows furrowed and his lips turned down into a frown. Perhaps he had not given it much pessimistic thought as he usually did, but then again, his father was the one who would give him doubts of the work he did, even all those years ago when he had departed from his king to save Lake-Town. Now this fey had asked him what seemed to be the simplest question that would surely guide his mind throughout the Fellowship’s journey, but he hadn’t thought about it in such a way before. Aragorn and Gandalf both believed they would make it, but Legolas often wondered if it was their need to have hope that spurred them onward, and his chest grew tight in envy for their passion to destroy this ring. He was glad to see it rid of the world, as well, in every way possible, but Legolas could imagine his life if they did not succeed, whereas he supposed the others could not. He remained passionate no matter his internal discourse, no matter how hard it was to ignore, and no matter how his stomach twisted in thought of what would happen if they failed, or even if they succeeded.

“For him,” Legolas gestured to Frodo, who had separated himself from his fellow Hobbits, and began to look to the valley below, their path onwards, with a troubled expression across his face. “I hope we triumph.”

Before Talwynn could reply, Gandalf’s voice boomed across the Fellowship, his staff pounding against the ground with each step he took as they began their descent down the hill they had begun on. “We must hold this course west of the Misty Mountains for forty days. If our luck holds, the Gap of Rohan will still be open to us. From there, our road turns east, to Mordor.” He instructed loudly, the rest of the group nodding and whispering affirmatively between one another.

Legolas turned to Talwynn with a wondering gaze. “Will you be able to traverse this landscape for forty days?” He inquired.

“I have not tried to before, but if I can not continue, I will not hold your people back, I can continue on my own if I must.”

Legolas nodded, and soon thereafter realized that her possibility of slowing the Fellowship down if the journey became too much was not what he was truly asking about, but he continued the path forward silently.

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

It hadn’t been long since Legolas had eaten a well cooked meal, though it had been a much longer stint than his usual appetite schedule, it was incomparable to those such as Frodo or Aragorn, who had come from much further than he had from Rivendell. Despite this, Legolas ate one of Samwise’s sausages as he perched atop one of the cliff edge rocks, scouting across the land for any hint of unusual movement. They had set up a temporary camp atop one of the highest ridges of the valley, before their journey would take them downwards and to the bottom of the Misty Mountains, and then eventually back upwards again. Legolas’ bow sat snugly close to him on his right side, his quiver still attached to his back as he still had unnerving thoughts about their placement. He had been an archer for his whole life, he knew the signs to look for, and even if he smiled and looked back at Boromir’s play fighting with the Hobbits, his ears were always pricked for danger.

The Eregion Hills served them well as a flat, rocky surface for the Fellowship to sit atop of, with an overhanging stone near the uphill cliffside that gave them a temporary relief from what the elements were sure to throw at them, Sauron’s will or not. Talwynn sat at a decent distance from the elf, biting down on a small piece of mashed potato that Samwise had graciously cut off the rest of the group for her, despite her telling him she had plenty of her own rations to take for herself. His cooking was something she would have never found if she had stayed in the Fey Realm. There were many cooks, sure, and many of those cooks were brilliant at their craft, but the supplies and spices Samwise had sitting in his backpack made his dish feel so much more alive. She smiled as she ate it, enjoying what she was sure to be one of the last, warm meals she would be having on this long adventure, but the appearance of company had given her much hope that her journey to Helm’s Deep would be successful.

“A Castar for your thoughts?” Gandalf’s crooked voice broke Talwynn’s own moment of silence, and he sat down next to her tiny form.

“Potatoes do not grow in the Fey Realm, neither are pigs fostered.” Talwynn replied, her wings fluttering as she finished the last of the small portion Samwise had given her. “I don’t think I’ve had something this delicious in my lifetime.”

“Samwise is quite the chef,” Gandalf nodded to the Hobbit sitting next to his friend, surely gossiping about their future as adventurers and their legacy to their Shire. “He has given the Fellowship warm, full stomachs. He is very worthy of this task.”

“I wish him well, he seems quite frightened at the prospect of leaving his home for something greater than himself.” Though Talwynn didn’t know what it was that the Fellowship had been tasked to do in Mordor, she assumed the adventure was for great reason. “Much like I.”

“You are naturally curious.”

“I am, but I do not wish to stick my head into a discussion where it does not belong. The Fellowship’s business is not my own, I only wish you the luck I can muster to make it safely into Mordor.”

“I, for one, would argue that it is plenty your business, Talwynn. If you and your people are willing to blindly follow our battle, you deserve to know what you are to fight for.” Tentatively, the fey nodded, and Gandalf continued, “Frodo Baggins,” He gestured towards the younger Hobbit that sat next to Samwise with curly, brown hair, fidgeting with a chain around his neck. “Has inherited the Ring to Rule Them All from his uncle, Bilbo Baggins. We are to take it to Mordor to destroy it once and for all, before Sauron can return and cast Middle-Earth into Shadow once more.”

“This truly is an important task, then.”

“Extremely. There are orcs and wargs at every crossroad and path we trek. You must know the danger of travelling alongside the Fellowship, their duties—” Gandalf gestured to Boromir, Legolas, and Aragorn, “Are to protect Frodo, whether it be their life at the cost. If Sauron takes the Ring, the days of light will be forever diminished, this is the last stand.”

“I am grateful, Sir Gandalf, that you have entrusted me with this information.”

“Has it changed anything?”

“I will keep my eye on Frodo, though he is quite well-protected already. You are granting me help with passage into Helm’s Deep, it is the least I can do to give you peace of mind.”

“Thank you.”

Gandalf gave Talwynn a respectful, polite nod before standing up using his staff for stability, retreating back to his original position under the protection of the overhead stone cliff. Legolas craned his head to watch the wizard’s leave, his ears having heard snippets of the conversation, but only enough to understand that Gandalf had entrusted Talwynn with the information about the Ring. He trusted Gandalf to a certain extent, but not as much as Aragorn did, his whole life revolved around Gandalf’s words and promises, whereas Legolas was still suspicious about the journey in general, especially with the appearance of Gimli throughout it all. Gandalf was a good enough judge of character, Legolas admitted to himself, and the fey didn’t seem worthy of the suspicion he had initially given her, there was no point in furrowing his brows and pondering her motives any longer, it was clear to him that she just wanted to get to Helm’s Deep, and she was no inhibitor on their progress.

“Get away from the blade, Pippin.” Boromir instructed the young Hobbit as they clashed swords together, the taller Man disarming him during every spar they completed. “On your toes… good, very good. I want you to react, not think.” Aragorn gazed upon them with a hint of a smile on his lips, tossing an apple between his palm.

Samwise, who was still sitting beside Frodo and finishing his dish of sausages and mashed potatoes, watched intently, learning from the advice Boromir gave Pippin as they fought. “Should not be too hard…” Samwise remarked to himself in a murmur.

The end of Boromir’s sword tapped on Pippin’s tunic, signifying he had lost again. “Move your feet.” He instructed, and Pippin smiled as he successfully defended himself from Boromir’s following attack.

“Quite good, Pippin!” Merry exclaimed, sitting with his back against one of the lone rocks.

“Thanks.”

Talwynn took the moment of silence, only broken by the sound of sword against sword as Boromir and Pippin continued to spar, to look around the area they had settled, more specifically on the elf, Legolas, who had separated himself from the scene to keep watch over their camp. Out of the many different characters in the group, he was the one who had managed to intrigue her the most, which was saying quite a bit, since Talwynn was of a curious kind. She knew more about him than the others, despite her curiosity, because of the stories her brother had told her about Thranduil and his wife, the tragedy that struck the nation and him when she passed, and his constant effort to obtain her jewels from The Lonely Mountain when it was under siege. A strange aspect seemed to haunt her; despite the fact that she knew more about Legolas than she had wanted to, than she felt appropriate to know having only met a few days prior, she longed to know more, to question, but perhaps that was just her fey ancestry, the race being well-known for their inquisitiveness.

Gimli’s voice cut through Talwynn’s thoughts like a well-sharpened sword, severing her tie to the back of Legolas’ head and forcing her to focus deeply on the conversation the dwarf was presently having with the old wizard, but his voice told her he was talking to everyone. “If anyone were to ask for my opinion, which I note they have not, I would say we are taking the long way around.” The dwarf shook his head, feet firmly planted on the stone beneath his body. If dwarves were one thing, they were extremely stubborn. “Gandalf, we can pass through the Mines of Moria. My cousin, Balin, would give us a royal welcome.” Gimli turned to the others, but only Aragorn and Legolas turned their heads to look back at him, amused expressions on their faces. “Gandalf clearly thinks that is a bad idea.”

“No, Gimli. I would not take the road through Moria unless I had no other choice.”

Those who were sparring didn’t seem to have a care at what Gimli and Gandalf were discussing with the group as they continued to spar, Boromir’s sword slicing against Pippin’s and thrusting forward, catching him against the hand. Talwynn assumed that Hobbits were unskilled with weaponry, considering very few pieces were made with their statues in mind, and her assumption reigned true as Pippin struggled against the Man’s attacks. So, Pippin threw his sword to the ground, Talwynn wincing at the sound of metal clashing and scraping against the rock and moss below, before running and lunging into Boromir’s torso, grappling his arms as far as they could go around his stomach and taking him to the ground in an epic takedown. In an act of near-proudness, Boromir began to laugh, and Pippin followed, and soon enough, most of the Fellowship, save for Gandalf, Gimli, and Legolas, had cracked a smile at the interaction.

Before the sweet moment could last any longer and be called a memory, a darkness began to enshroud the blue sky many kilometers away, hovering over the Misty Mountains and its shadow telling that it was only gaining position towards the Fellowship. Talwynn flew towards Legolas, who had already spotted it, catching advantage from her height in the sky, but only enough to see that they were in fact, headed in a direct line to their cliffside. The dark presence caught the others’ eyes immediately after, and Aragorn lunged to his feet in as fast of a reaction as he could muster, the years had not been as kind to him as they had been to the long-livers such as Legolas or Gandalf. As the mass got closer and closer, it became clear that it was not just one being, it was a flock of something dangerous and dreadful, so much so that a shiver went down Talwynn’s spine as she gazed upon them from afar. Smoke in the wind was no longer a phrase she would use to describe the phenomenon.

“What is that?” Samwise inquired.

“Nothing… it’s just a wisp of cloud!” Gimli explained, using the moment to capture another sausage from Samwise’s cooking pot for himself.

Boromir’s eyebrows furrowed in worry, and he stood back up from his position on the ground, nearly pushing Pippin off of himself. “It’s moving fast against the wind.”

“I will look.” Talwynn offered, leaving Legolas’ side and shot across the sky, nearly touching the clouds as she met the eyes of whatever was targeting the group. She let out a breath at the sight of the mass of deep, black birds with brown tar dripping from their beaks. “Crebain! It is Crebain!” She cried back to the Fellowship, screaming as loud as she could muster before dipping back down and fluttering her wings to race back to the cliff.

“What?!” Aragorn exclaimed.

Legolas answered, repeating what only he could hear from Talwynn due to his elven ears; “Crebain from Dunland!”

Aragorn hurriedly pushed the Hobbits towards the rocks that gave them shelter as Talwynn barrelled into their airspace. “Hide!” He shouted, watching as Gimli took cover underneath the main rock alongside Gandalf.

Boromir pulled himself down on the opposite side of the largest rock on the cliff, his right arm resting against the ground as he looked at the smaller members of the group. “Merry, Pippin, Sam, take cover!” He commanded, and Talwynn realized why he was such a revered Captain of Gondor as she herself ducked into the area that Aragorn and Legolas had taken cover under, shoving herself in between blades of grass.

With curdling screeches and thick, black liquid oozing from their beals, a horde of at least a hundred Crebain birds flew overhead of the Fellowship, temporarily blinding the group from the sunlight as they wailed with an ear-piercing tone. Talwynn winced as a moment’s chill passed through under the shadow of the Crebain from Dunland, the ones that were surely of Sauronic origin, covered up her only sense of heat, making her wings flutter in discontent and her body to shiver in its entirety. As soon as the dark crows had come, they had disappeared into the Southern sky once again, squawking terribly and announcing their presence for all nearby to hear. They had completely turned around from whence they came, telling the Fellowship that they had seen what they needed to see, which was either nothing at all or a group of poorly-hidden Hobbits, Elves, Men, an old wizard, and a Man the size of an acorn with dragonfly wings.

Gandalf was the first to rise from his hiding position, staggering to his feet with the support of his grey staff. “Spies of Saruman.” He announced gravely as the remainder of the Fellowship stood. “The passage South is being watched.” Gandalf glanced at Aragorn for only a moment, the Gondorian heir‘s flat expression unwavering as the wizard then looked upon the mountain pass North. “We must take the pass of Caradhras.”

#legolas #legolas fic #legolas x oc #lotr fic #lotr #lotr x oc

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warrioreowynofrohan · 2 years

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Ages of The Fellowship of the Ring - Canon

I’ve seen a lot of delightful posts on the possibility that Boromir is the youngest member of the Fellowship and how he would react to being told that, and I like them, but we do also have canon ages for most of the Fellowship so I thought I’d put them out there.

So, the Fellowship, from oldest to youngest:

- Gandalf. Can’t get much older than “predates the existence of the world.”

- Legolas. We don’t have an exact birth date, but he says that five hundred years seems like a fairly short time, so it’s fair to extrapolate that he is, at least, older than that.

- Gimli: Tolkien says in Unfinished Tales that Gimli was too young to take part in the Quest of Erebor, being only 62 at the time. If my math is right, that would make him 139-140 at the time of the Quest of the Ring.

- Aragorn: About 87 at the time of the Quest of the Ring. He is one year younger than Denethor and 17 years older than Théoden, which gives some sense of how much different aging is among Elros’ heirs than among other Men.

- Frodo: 50 at the time of the Quest of the Ring.

- Boromir: 40 at the time of the Quest of the Ring. He was 6 when his father became Steward of Gondor, and 10 when his mother died.

- Merry: No solid dates I can find, but he’s already helping Frodo manage guests during the Long-Expected Party (17 years before the Quest), so I’d guess he’s already in his 20s by then. That would put him at at least 37 at the time of the Quest. Merry also helps Frodo choose and buy the house in Buckland, and unpacks all of Frodo’s things and gets the house ready, which is the sort of thing you’d generally entrust to someone who was, at the least, already ‘of age’ / considered an adult. Rather amusingly, is definitely chronologically older than Eowyn (who is 23). (EDIT: Many thanks to @madrielite, who checked the hobbit family trees in Appendix C and found that Merry is 36 - born in year 2982 of the Third Age.)

- Sam: 35 at the time of the Quest of the Ring. Is the same age as Faramir! Just barely of age by hobbit standards. (Though personally I’m not convinced that hobbits reach physical or emotional maturity slower than humans; I lean towards them just having a ‘millennial’ approach to things - speaking as a millennial who didn’t move out her parents’ house or get her first real long-term job until 29.) (EDIT: Many thanks to @madrielite, who checked the hobbit family trees in Appendix C and found that the numbers there are inconsistent with Appendix B and have Sam as age 38, born in year 2980 of the Third Age when converted from Shire Reckoning; in contrast Appendix B has him born in T.A. 2983. So canon is inconsistent on whether Sam or Merry is older.)

- Pippin: The youngest, at 28.

Please correct me if I’ve missed anything!

#tolkien #the lord of the rings #gandalf #aragorn #legolas #gimli #merry brandybuck #pippin took #frodo baggins #sam gamgee #boromir #faramir

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halfelven · 3 years

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Hey there! Happy 22nd of September! Do you have any thoughts on Thranduil?

no thoughts, only Thranduil

but no actually I have too many thoughts on Thranduil

he's 7'1" which puts him a full foot taller than Legolas

he has a scar almost completely encircling his neck from a dwarven garrotte, which he tends to cover with his clothes or chokers. (it's a necklace he can never remove)

he was hit by lightning when crouching for cover, and the lightning left a huge scar over his left hip and down his leg/up along his abdomen

his dancing is magic in a stronger way than most elves

his movements too hold a lot of power

he'll lift his fingers in a wave, and that's making the wind stronger somewhere

he tied so much of his magic to his land that he is part of the forest itself, and can use the plants, the fungi to see what is happening throughout the forest

he took a /lot/ of pain to protect his people, but he's still kind and loving

he's aromantic

and extremely bisexual

he was one of the last people to see Elrond and Elros at Sirion

he has chronic nose bleeds

his skin is almost see-through and catches light in terrible ways sometimes

(but they are still beautiful)

sometimes he thinks that gathering silver and gems will make all the horrors of his past worth it because that's what everyone wanted

sometimes he just wants them because he knows what people will do for wealth and it's a guarantee to keep his people alive

he's half Silvan, and views himself as Silvan

his script looks a lot like Bilbo's, and they were both delighted by this

I am going to make a separate post about /why/ I think this BUT

he paid a realm's worth for a mithril shirt for Legolas when he was a child (so nothing should ever happen to him)

when Legolas outgrew it, it went back to Erebor to be re-made but Erebor was attacked before that happened

this wound up as Bilbo's, and then Frodo's

he laughs a lot and tends to cover his face with his hands when he laughs

it used to be very easy to make him blush, but it's not as easy anymore so Elrond goes out of his way to make Thranduil blush around him

he likes borrowing other people's clothes because he likes just holding onto something that smells like the people he loves

he's tall but very slim so sometimes he borrows shirts from people and wears them as crop tops

he and Legolas still have adjoining rooms because Legolas never wanted to move out of what was once his little nursery

he has five dogs (think Karelian bear dogs) and will pat them all the time and still carries them around like they might be puppies

he went to visit the Shire a few times with Legolas and was Delighted by it

he and Pippin made an alliance

he still picks Legolas up all the time because he's smaller than him and so much younger than him that Thranduil has a hard time not thinking of him as a child still when they're not working

but he's very proud of Legolas

his favourite colour is green

he bakes apple pies and spice cakes that look a bit wonky and taste amazing

he made people who fell beneath his spell dream of feasting and happiness because he thought it the kindest way for them to die if die they must

he is not cruel, but he has seen cruelness, and he will not underestimate it

he slept in Elrond's bed, and then Celebrían and Elrond's bed, and then Elrond's bed again when he visited Rivendell

he also visited a long time when Elladan and Elrohir were born to help raise them because the amount of magic it took to stabilise them and keep them alive was intense

they had it better figured out when Arwen came, so he didn't have to help as much

in turn, Elrond came to help with Legolas, even though he didn't need help, he still asked Elrond for it

he is best friends with Gandalf and isn't afraid to hug him when he's being grumpy, which most of his friends are

he really loves sledding and goes out every winter with all the elf children to pull them up the hill and ride down with them if they're scared

he's just all the children's uncle/grandfather and will play with them whenever he can

also he has a lot of plants in his room

and he likes koi fish

he gets cold on his nose and ears easily and then they get flushed and his cheeks too and he wraps his face up in a scarf so only his eyes are showing

thank you I love him so much! <3

and I was surprised I haven't done a headcanons list of him that I could find

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e-m-christina · 3 years

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(Day 19 of October Writing Challenge)

The Shallows - Legolas x Reader

CHAPTER ONE

Summary: Y/n, an elven water-bender joins the fellowship, under the instruction of Elrond. As she catches up with Legolas, a childhood friend, she soon realizes that she is developing feelings for the elf.

Requested by @chocotacobread I hope you enjoy!

Requests are open!

MASTERLIST

Enjoy!

An unusually warm breeze for that time of year rustled the orange-burnt leaves that lay on the ground. The sun hung low in the clear sky, but rolling grey clouds from the east threatened to dull the beams of golden evening light.

Y/n was strolling through the vast gardens of Imladris, better known as Rivendale with Lady Arwen.

Lord Elrond had sent for her to join a meeting between elves, dwarves, men and halflings. It had been a long and tiring journey for Y/n, she had travelled all the way from Rhun, where she was hired by the townspeople to direct the rivers towards the sea, to stop them from flooding the crop fields. Y/n then stopped briefly at Anfalas and Harad for a short rest, before continuing her trek towards the last homely house.

"I'm so glad you came," Arwen said, brushing her dark hair from her eyes.

"So am I, it feels like an age since I was here last," Y/n said, stopping to admire a white Aeglos flower, known to humans as Snowthorn, a plant grown in Amon Rûdh in the first age and the only surviving plant remained there in Rivendale. Y/n loved flowers - she promised herself that if she ever settled down, she would fill her house and garden with flowers.

"It's been many years, I believe the last time I saw you was when you and that company of dwarves blundered through here on a quest to reclaim Erebor," Arwen said with a hint of irritation in her usually honeyed voice.

"Really, that long?" Y/n said, turning to look at her friend. "I heard that Bilbo has returned. I sure would like to see him again. I never got a chance to visit him after he travelled back to Shire after Thorin’s death."

"He is here, and he will be at the meeting. So will others you may know," Arwen said, steering Y/n away from the Aegols plant before she could steal it.

"Forgive me, but what is this meeting about? Your father was rather vague in his message." Y/n asked, ducking under a Culmulada branch.

"I know very little myself. Bilbo's nephew, Frodo Baggins arrived here a few days ago. He was hunted down by the Nine and stabbed by a Morgul blade because he was carrying something of significance, though father never told me what it was." Arwen said.

Y/n’s blood run cold. She had suspected something dark was beginning to stir in Middle-Earth. When she was passing through the Valleys of Khand in Harad, on the borders of the dark lands, she had spotted an army clad in black marching along Ephel Duath, the border to Mordor. But she had never in her wildest dreams imagined that the Nine Kings of Angmar were on the move.

“Then that answers the question doesn’t it,” Y/n said.

“Answers what question?”

“The Nine only hunt one thing - the ring of power,” Y/n said, and a look of realization flashed across Arwen’s fair face. “Frodo must have had the ring and they are after him. That must be what the meeting is about.”

“I did not think of it that way,” Arwen said, “But how could such a small thing like him come across the ring of power?”

“I have a hunch,” Y/n bit her lip. Years ago on the journey to Erebor, Bilbo told her that he found something in the Goblin Tunnels; a little golden ring that made him invisible. She thought nothing of it then, but looking back she realized that was foolish.

“In any case, best not worry your mind over it right now. We have an hour before the meeting starts and everyone arrives.” Arwen placed a hand on Y/n’s arm. “You must be tired. Where did you say you travelled from?”

“Rhun, but I stopped at Harad and Anfalas for a short rest.”

“I simply do not understand it,” Arwen shook her head. “You have a lovely home in Golden Forest of Lothlorien, yet you roam the wild like a ranger and sport the company of unsavoury folk.”

“I like to travel and if I can help people with my water bending abilities, like the village next to the sea of Ruhn, I want to be of service. There is not much to do in Lothlorien apart from eating berries and listening to the nerve twanging sounds of those blasted loots.” Y/n shrugged. “Besides, I wouldn’t call the people I travel with ‘unsavoury’.”

“My dear friend, you have travelled with a group of grubby dwarves, violent vagabonds from Belfalas and dirty pirates from the East Ocean of Anäm! Your choice in travelling companions is worrying.”

“Eh,” Y/n kicked a stray pebble. “I could be travelling with worse.”

“That is what I am afraid of.”

“My dear Y/n!” Someone cried when Y/n and Arwen turned a corner. Perched on the stone bench overlooking the pond, was a little frail man wrapped in a grey shawl, and beside him sat a younger boy with dark curly hair.

“Bless my boots,” Y/n grinned, pulling the old man into a tight hug. “Bilbo!”

“My dear friend, I never thought I’d see you again! You have not aged a day!” Bilbo chuckled, lowering himself back onto his seat with shaky legs.

“It had been a long time my friend. Not had any more unexpected party’s without me, I hope?”

“Of course not! Though Dwalin visited not too long ago. He’s gone senile and deaf as a post.” Bilbo laughed lightly, before turning to the younger hobbit beside him. “This is my nephew, Frodo. He has had quite the adventure.”

“So I have heard,” Y/n said, shaking the young hobbit’s hand. He looked rather pale and had dark circles under his large blue eyes. “Takes after his uncle.”

“Uncle Bilbo told me all about you, lady Y/n,” Frodo said with a gleam in his eyes. “He would tell me and the other kids stories about how you drowned the dragon in Laketown by engulfing it in a massive bubble of water. Is that true?”

“Partly,” Y/n laughed. “I had a great deal of help from a man named Bard who injured the beast with a black arrow. I merely finished the job.”

“I told you, very humble!” Bilbo laughed.

“Y/n is very prone to getting mixed up with dealings with dragons, Balrogs and other beasts,” Arwen said.

They all turned around when a ringing broke through the air and the gates of Rivendale creaked open. The sound of hooves thudded off the ground and riders began to pour in through the great gates.

"That must be the others," Arwen said.

The first group to arrive was comprised of human men, the leader had the crest of Gondor sewn into his tunic and had a head of messy brown hair.

The next to arrive was a ragged group of dwarves, grunting and grumbling as they stumbled from their pigs and ponies. A smile worked its way onto Y/n’s lips when she spotted Gloin and his son, Gimli, staggering around.

And finally, a group of elves from Mirkwood gracefully trotted up the cobble path, sneering at the dwarves. Y/n’s eyes landed on an elf with long blond hair riding on a white stallion. It was Legolas - an old childhood friend of hers. The last time she had seen him was after the battle of Erebor.

“Nin mellon, an anand baw see!” (My friend, long time no see), Legolas beamed when he spotted Y/n and came striding over.

“Ha's beleg na see cin mellon.” (It’s great to see you, friend), Y/n said and the smell of pinewood and mint filled her nose when he tackled her into a hug.

“I think you have spent too much time with dwarves,” Legolas smirked, speaking so the others could understand.

“How so?” Y/n cocked a brow as she pulled back.

“You have shrunk!”

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