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itsfeckinwimdy · 1 year

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10 Types of Kisses

Various LOTR/TH x Reader

Pairings: Aragorn, Fili, Haldir, Kili, & Legolas x Reader (separately).

Pronouns: n/a.

Prompt(s): 10 types of kisses by @urfriendlywriter. You can find her post here. (I used 9/10 of them).

Word Count: 3.4k words (3415)

Warnings: No beta, we die like Boromir. open wounds (Aragorns + Fili's), marriage (Fili's), swearing (Kili's), mentions of battle + death + blood (Legolas).

Tree Speaks: I had a lot of fun writing this but it also went into territory that I'm not particularly comfortable with writing yet so we'll see how this pans out.

Translations: amad - mother, dwarrowdams - a term used for female dwarves.

LOTR + TH Masterlist

Published: 25/02/2023

1. Aragorn

soft kisses - where they're just lying beside you, hands playing with your hair as they trail tender kisses all over your lips

The two of you were meant to be sleeping of course, but the gloom of the mines made it hard to settle. You supposed that's why he pulled you away from the others slightly, to a spot just that bit further away.

Aragorn was on first watch as usual, having made it his task since the beginning of the journey, and always insisted that the hobbits and Gandalf got plenty of sleep. But with that came the usual knowing looks between the two of you as Aragorn knew his love wouldn't sleep unless he would.

So with that knowledge, and him sensing his love's rising anxiety at being trapped underground, it now brought them to this.

He tilted your head up from where it was resting against his chest, his hand cupping your face. Aragorn brushed a few loose strands of hair off your face from where it had fallen out of place as his own head tilted down towards yours. His hand gently entwined with your other, and he paused in his movements, allowing you to decide next.

You gently reached up, threading your hand through his long locks and gently pulling him down towards you. He pressed his lips to yours, mouth moving slowly, softly, intimately.

He pulled away, your lips chasing after his, a small smile gracing his lips as he pressed another kiss, and then another, and then another to your lips.

the type of kiss where you can't find words to say after, or the ones where your forehead lingers against each other's

Aragorn's horse trotted through helms deep, having just pulled him up from the river bed where if not found, he would've succumbed to his wounds. He dismounted his horse and received a scolding from Gimli before forcing himself up the staircases and into the deep.

Legolas rose from outside the doors, greeting his friend who believed him dead. The elf pulled him into a familiar embrace before pulling back and making a sarcastic comment about the ranger.

The elf turned a small smile gracing his face before yelling the name of a person. The ranger followed his line of sight. It fell on his love, you.

You looked up after the elf who yelled out to you, before seeing the man you mourned for standing with him. Abandoning your stuff, you ran to him, arms thrown over his shoulders and crushing him to your chest as a few sobs left you.

His arms encircled you as he leant his forehead against yours. He didn't care at that point about the mud caking him and he didn't think you cared enough at that point, so it made no odds on whether he was careful or not.

He pulled back slightly, raising his hand to caress your face before pressing his lips to yours. Tears left both of you as his mouth moved languidly with yours.

Aragorn pulled away, resting his forehead against yours. He wanted to say so much to you, fearing that he would never see you again but all thoughts left him as he wished to stay in this moment, longing for nothing but you.

2. Fili

messy kisses - curly hair, ruffled sheets and half-buttoned clothes as you just want more and at that moment, they're the most beautiful soul to you ever

The sun trickled in through the window, bypassing the curtains that hadn't been fully drawn across the night before. The young (ish) couple lounged in the bed, bodies pressed together as close as they could get with the few layers of clothes still between them.

He tilted your head up to meet his, his lips pressing against yours, moving languidly in the early morn. Fili reached up, hand caressing your courting and marriage braids that were still somewhat intact.

He groaned, feeling one of your hands gripping the hair at the base of his neck and the other slipping under his shirt across his chest.

Fili pulled back, eyes fluttering open to meet yours; your own half-lidded as you drew in a few stuttering breaths. It was a pleasant greeting from your love first thing in the morning, one that you would be against again.

You gazed up at Fili, the dwarf hovering over you, careful not to rest his entire body weight on you. The tressels of sunlight filtered through his hair, causing a glow to shine over him.

His eyes trailed over your face, memorising every detail as if it was the first time he saw you.

kisses on your body ♡ frail kisses on your shoulder! on your lower back, belly and trailing to your neck, collarbones, lips.

A cry of pain left your lips.

Oin pulled the blood-soaked cloth away from where it was pressed tightly against your side. The infection from the arrow had spread, the orcs having laced it with something deadly.

The pain wasn't something Fili wished on anyone, much less you. So he did his best to comfort you whilst the infection ransacked your body. His hands firmly held you, one holding the back of your head, and the other gripping your forearm to stop you from forcing Oin's hand away from the wound he was trying his best to treat.

After Oin had doused the cut in water, trying to flood any dirt that wormed its way in, Fili pulled you closer. The healer moved back to gather some more altheas and cloths, leaving you curled against your prince's chest.

Fili dropped his head down to your shoulder, as your tears continued to douse his shirt - not that he cared as it was covered in sweat, grime, and whatever else from the trip across middle earth - his hand on your head slipping down to the back of your neck, stroking his fingers in what he hoped was a soothing pattern.

He pressed a kiss to your bare shoulder, the fabric of your tunic had been pulled away, cut away for easier access. It would need replacing, he noted, but hoped that it would be enough to cover you until the sun rose again.

Fili continued his ministrations, pressing another kiss further up your shoulder. And then another at the junction where it met your neck. He considered pressing one to your neck, in that one spot he knew made you shiver, but with the way you were sitting in his lap you were already considered improper in public, so he begrudgingly decided against it.

Oin chose to return at that moment, pressing the churned-up altheas against your wound and then tying the cleanest cloth over it. You cried out in pain, more tears falling. It was like someone was driving a burning knife into your arm, over, and over, and over again. The pain rolling in waves.

Fili kept whispering words of praises and comfort, the Kadzhul translations lost in your mind as all you could feel was the pain, and him.

The knot was finally tied on the bandage. Fili slid his hand from the back of your neck to cup your face, pressing a chaste kiss against your forehead before leaning his own upon yours.

I'm here, you're safe now, I love you, the action spoke more words than Fili could find himself saying.

3. Haldir

lazy kisses as they admire you - fingers delicately trialing your jaw as they kiss your lips

"Haldir," you groaned, leaning back against his chest, head turned up to face him. A smile graced his lips, his eyes locked with yours, shining full of love.

It wasn't often you got to spend a prolonged period of time with your Marchwarden, especially with him being gone for months at a time to guard Lothlórien's borders. So any time you spent with him was precious, even if you knew he would be leaving at the end of it again.

The braid in his hair was loose, albeit from your hands running through his hair earlier, causing him to have a sexy, but dishevelled look. The thought of elves being supermodels no matter what state they were in flashed through your mind again causing you to chuckle slightly.

Haldir raised his hand, letting it linger under your jaw as he delicately leaned down to place another kiss against your lips. Warmth bloomed through you and as his lips moved against yours, all thought about him having to leave again in a few days retreated into the depths of your mind.

You were drunk off the taste of him, off his kisses as he stole your breath each time. And nothing would ever change that.

goodbye kisses - kisses lingering like liquor in each other's lips, bitter but sweet, "I'll always come back to you, love. you're my home after all."

The boats gifted to the fellowship had just finished being prepared and were packed full of provisions to last you a good while.

The thought of having to leave your home again haunted you but not just because it was where you lived. No, because this time you were leaving your love, not knowing when you were to see him again. He was your home.

The Marchwarden was allowed to see his love off, having been granted a week's leave whilst you and the fellowship recovered and stayed in Caras Galadhon, Lothlórien. After you were sent as an emissary to Imladris, Rivendell in the common tongue, and word had returned that you had embarked on a journey to destroy the one ring, Haldir was worried for you.

He knew the history of the ring, as did most if not all elves and was worried about the dangers you may face. He knew that you could protect yourself, having been a sparring partner against you for years, but the worry did not dissipate.

He met you at the shoreline, his hand over his heart in the traditional greeting before he held your hand in his. Sadness filled his eyes as he wished not to see you leave, but knowing that this was a journey you were willing to take.

Haldir leant his head against yours as he fixed the cloak hung around your shoulders, ensuring that the broach was attached properly.

His hands lingered on your waist as he prepared himself to say goodbye again. It was one thing being the one who was leaving, but now that he was on the receiving side for once, he now knew how your heart felt each time he went on patrol. That feeling of not knowing if you were coming back or not eating at his heart.

Your hand on his cheek stole his spiralling mind from his thoughts as your lips pressed against his. A tear threatened to leave his eye as he consumed your kiss like a drug. The fear bubbling in his chest soothing to make way for the love he held for you but the melancholy feeling at having to be parted from you made it more bittersweet than anything.

His lips lingered over yours as you pulled away, his hand raising to stoke a strand of hair back from your face. Haldir wished he could keep you here in his arms but understood the task you had undertaken would not be dropped lightly.

4. Kili

kissing and realising this is the person you'll always love, you'll always want to touch and snuggle with

Kili didn't think he could hold you any closer than he currently was.

You were practically melded into him, hands gripping tightly to the back of his jacket. The clothing was still damp from the thunderous storm you had walked through, but nonetheless had to still wear.

The terror that shot through him as the thunder giant collided with the mountain, believing that he had lost not only his brother but you as well, was something he never wished to feel again. His hands trembled slightly at the thought.

He shifted slightly, taking some pressure off his shoulder whilst pulling you upwards slightly so you were level with him. The ground wasn't pleasant to lie on, less so on his side, and even less so with damp clothes on, but Kili knew this was the company's best option right now.

Kili rested his head against yours, his eyes meeting yours. He nudged his nose with yours affectionately, giving you time to pull away.

It was something he always did, you noted. Every time he wanted to kiss you but couldn't find the words to say it, or was surrounded by too many prying eyes, he did that. Gave you that tell that allowed you to decide what happens next.

You tentatively leant forwards, tilting your head upwards ever so slightly, letting your lips press against his. There was no rush. No incessant desire to pull the other closer, just him.

Kili moved his lips slowly with yours, savouring every moment that he got with you. Fuck, he loved you. The realisation pulled at his heartstrings more, knowing that he could've lost you today.

prohibited kiss - you're not even supposed to be seeing each other but your hands are on his hair and his hands around your waist, lower bodies pressing into each other as you kiss

Laughter radiated through your body as you were pulled through the endless turns and corridors of Erebor. The stone walls were lined with torches and braziers all lit with fires burning brightly.

To anyone else, it would be a maze, a catacomb of tunnels that unless sense was made of them, would surely lead to your demise. But years of living there had engraved the pathways into your mind, and no doubt Kili's.

His hand dragged you to a secluded corner, himself coming to a halt. He could no longer hear the guards trying to follow the two of you. Pride flooded his chest as he gazed back at you, finally alone with his betrothed.

You were finally able to get a good look at him, now that he didn't have all the dwarrowdams fawning over him. Even if he wasn't "beautiful" by dwarf standards, he was still a prince and would have people trying to gain his favour.

But his title didn't matter to you. Kili did.

And by the creator himself, did you love the way he looked. His hair tousled from the running, and the short beard he was so desperately trying to grow accentuated his face.

But the ceremonial robes that hung to his body? You couldn't resist.

He found himself pushed back, pinned against the pillar. Kili's eyes locked with yours, the same fire of desire within him, burning through you.

Your lips pressed with his, mouths moving frantically with the others. Your hands that gripped onto the front of his robes slid up, trailing up his neck and into his hair, pulling slightly to press him into you more. A groan left him at a particularly harsh tug before your hand moved to trace his courting braid.

He pulled away, panting, breathless, kissing you again and pulling you into him, arms gripping your waist, hands in his hair, your bodies practically merging into one. If his Amad caught him now, he wouldn't even have to face the scornful looks of Dwalin, he would already be lying in his grave.

But could he let you go? Fuck no.

5. Legolas

shy kisses - when you're the one pulling them closer, and they nuzzle their face in your crook after the kiss, hands around your waist as their ears get red

You were scared. If anything you were currently lustful, but you were about to fight in a war against ten thousand troops with an army of less than a third of that. So you were scared.

Legolas had turned to where you leant against one of the pillars, choosing to come and check all the fastenings on your armour. He was meticulous and methodical as he went to each and every one, adjusting where he deemed necessary whilst checking it caused you no discomfort.

A soft smile graced your face, as you watch his gentle movements before reaching out to cup his face in one of your hands. A blush, so subtle anyone who didn’t know Legolas would miss it, warmed his face, his head lifting and eyes locking with yours. It was as if he was staring straight into your soul, his piercing grey eyes full of love but fear.

You pulled him towards you, Legolas leaning his head down as his hand held over yours on his face, the other resting gently on your waist. Leaning up, you gently pressed your lips to his. Just once, mind you, the action as tender as possible, letting him come to you.

Legolas leant into you, pressing his lips back against yours, moving at a slow pace. He wanted to savour this moment as much as possible before the two of you walked to what could be your deaths.

ahem.

The clearing of the person's throat sprung the two of you apart, you mentally preparing for the endless stream of apologies to whichever passerby caught you, only for it to be someone you knew all too well.

"Aragorn." You spoke, heavily embarrassed to be caught with your lover.

The ranger looked between the two of you, his face being that awful neutral resting one making it so you couldn't judge his feelings on the matter. Aragorn must have read the panic starting to creep up in you as a teasing smile broke out.

“I have no qualms with this,” he began before looking over his shoulder towards the entrance of the armoury, “but the people of Rohan may not be as forgiving if you are caught.”

He turned on his heel, making his way up the staircase and leaving the two to their devices.

A moment passed and then a chuckle left your lips as a sigh left Legolas’. His head fell to your shoulder as the blush absconding his cheeks spread like wildfire tinting his ears a rosy colour.

At least it was only Aragorn, you mused, If Gimli had found you then he wouldn’t stop teasing your elf.

kisses of reassurance - saying that you're safe, still with them, that your heart is still beating wildly in your chest, that they couldn't get rid of you if they tried, that for some insane reason, you're not dead yet

Your chest heaved, trying to inhale as much air as possible as you sprinted up the mud-soaked hill. Aragorn had yelled for the soldiers to retreat into Minas Tirith and you were making your way as fast as you could until an arrow pierced your shoulder.

The doors were closed and sealed as you entered alongside the last few stragglers, a resounding bang from the wood hitting the stone frame. The room spun on its axis.

The throbbing pain in your arm continued, each ebb seeming stronger which was probably due to the adrenaline wearing off. Maybe you should've stayed fighting, it surely couldn't hurt as much as your arm did, you thought as your uninjured arm reached out to hold yourself up against the wall.

Giving up on keeping yourself upright, you slid falling somewhat ungracefully to the floor, blood dripping from your wound and soaking your sleeve. It was funny how much damage one arrow could cause.

You blinked.

The sun had risen, and from where you could see it, it was around mid-morning. Your eyes focused and you could see a worried face in a sea of platinum blonde hair. Legolas.

Ignoring the sound of the elf’s worry, you pushed yourself up into a seated position, as he gracefully knelt down next to you. His hands mindlessly moved to cup your face, as he had to pull his eyes away from your crudely bandaged arm. The arrow had been jagged and cut more as it pierced you, causing more blood to be lost.

Your hand covered one of his as Legolas moved to press his forehead to yours.

“I'm okay,” you whispered, breaking the silence between the two of you. Your thumb stroked the back of his hand absentmindedly, as you tilted your head up, meeting his lips with yours. It was one of desperation, longing and fear. A shuddered breath left you as the two of you broke apart.

“We’re okay.”

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sillylotrpolls · 3 months

Text

(Relevant text below the poll)

Inspired by this post by @roselightfairy and replies by @herrhasen, @enide-s-dear, @unnamedelement, @dragonfirez, and @carlandrea.

If you'd like to refresh your memory of the Fellowship at its bitchiest (and Boromir at his best), the relevant text is below the cut.

Excerpted from The Fellowship of the Ring, Book II, Chapter 3: The Ring Goes South

Gimli looked up and shook his head. 'Caradhras has not forgiven us.' he said. 'He has more snow yet to fling at us, if we go on. The sooner we go back and down the better.'

To this all agreed, but their retreat was now difficult. It might well prove impossible. Only a few paces from the ashes of their fire the snow lay many feet deep, higher than the heads of the hobbits; in places it had been scooped and piled by the wind into great drifts against the cliff.

'If Gandalf would go before us with a bright flame, he might melt a path for you,' said Legolas. The storm had troubled him little, and he alone of the Company remained still light of heart.

'If Elves could fly over mountains, they might fetch the Sun to save us,' answered Gandalf. 'But I must have something to work on. I cannot burn snow.'

'Well,' said Boromir, 'when heads are at a loss bodies must serve, as we say in my country. The strongest of us must seek a way. See! Though all is now snow-clad, our path, as we came up, turned about that shoulder of rock down yonder. It was there that the snow first began to burden us. If we could reach that point, maybe it would prove easier beyond. It is no more than a furlong off, I guess.'

'Then let us force a path thither, you and I!' said Aragorn.

Aragorn was the tallest of the Company, but Boromir, little less in height, was broader and heavier in build. He led the way, and Aragorn followed him. Slowly they moved off, and were soon toiling heavily. In places the snow was breast-high, and often Boromir seemed to be swimming or burrowing with his great arms rather than walking.

Legolas watched them for a while with a smile upon his lips, and then he turned to the others. 'The strongest must seek a way, say you? But I say: let a ploughman plough, but choose an otter for swimming, and for running light over grass and leaf or over snow-an Elf.'

With that he sprang forth nimbly, and then Frodo noticed as if for the first time, though he had long known it, that the Elf had no boots, but wore only light shoes, as he always did, and his feet made little imprint in the snow.

'Farewell!' he said to Gandalf. 'I go to find the Sun!' Then swift as a runner over firm sand he shot away, and quickly overtaking the toiling men, with a wave of his hand he passed them, and sped into the distance, and vanished round the rocky turn.

The others waited huddled together, watching until Boromir and Aragorn dwindled into black specks in the whiteness. At length they too passed from sight. The time dragged on. The clouds lowered, and now a few flakes of snow came curling down again.

An hour, maybe, went by, though it seemed far longer, and then at last they saw Legolas coming back. At the same time Boromir and Aragorn reappeared round the bend far behind him and came labouring up the slope.

'Well,' cried Legolas as he ran up, 'I have not brought the Sun. She is walking in the blue fields of the South, and a little wreath of snow on this Redhorn hillock troubles her not at all. But I have brought back a gleam of good hope for those who are doomed to go on feet. There is the greatest winddrift of all just beyond the turn, and there our Strong Men were almost buried. They despaired, until I returned and told them that the drift was little wider than a wall. And on the other side the snow suddenly grows less, while further down it is no more than a white coverlet to cool a hobbit's toes.'

'Ah, it is as I said,' growled Gimli. 'It was no ordinary storm. It is the ill will of Caradhras. He does not love Elves and Dwarves, and that drift was laid to cut off our escape.'

'But happily your Caradhras has forgotten that you have Men with you,' said Boromir, who came up at that moment. 'And doughty Men too, if I may say it; though lesser men with spades might have served you better. Still, we have thrust a lane through the drift; and for that all here may be grateful who cannot run as light as Elves.'

'But how are we to get down there, even if you have cut through the drift?' said Pippin, voicing the thought of all the hobbits.

'Have hope!' said Boromir. 'I am weary, but I still have some strength left, and Aragorn too. We will bear the little folk. The others no doubt will make shift to tread the path behind us. Come, Master Peregrin! I will begin with you.'

He lifted up the hobbit. 'Cling to my back! I shall need my arms' he said and strode forward. Aragorn with Merry came behind. Pippin marvelled at his strength, seeing the passage that he had already forced with no other tool than his great limbs. Even now, burdened as he was, he was widening the track for those who followed, thrusting the snow aside as he went.

They came at length to the great drift. It was flung across the mountainpath like a sheer and sudden wall, and its crest, sharp as if shaped with knives, reared up more than twice the height of Boromir; but through the middle a passage had been beaten, rising and falling like a bridge. On the far side Merry and Pippin were set down, and there they waited with Legolas for the rest of the Company to arrive.

After a while Boromir returned carrying Sam. Behind in the narrow but now well-trodden track came Gandalf, leading Bill with Gimli perched among the baggage. Last came Aragorn carrying Frodo. They passed through the lane; but hardly had Frodo touched the ground when with a deep rumble there rolled down a fall of stones and slithering snow. The spray of it half blinded the Company as they crouched against the cliff, and when the air cleared again they saw that the path was blocked behind them.

'Enough, enough!' cried Gimli. 'We are departing as quickly as we may!'

And indeed with that last stroke the malice of the mountain seemed to be expended, as if Caradhras was satisfied that the invaders had been beaten off and would not dare to return. The threat of snow lifted; the clouds began to break and the light grew broader.

As Legolas had reported, they found that the snow became steadily more shallow as they went down, so that even the hobbits could trudge along. Soon they all stood once more on the flat shelf at the head of the steep slope where they had felt the first flakes of snow the night before.

#lotr #lord of the rings #poll #polls #legolas #it came from tumblr

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shirefantasies · 5 months

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Can I please request a preference thing with how the fellowship (maybe plus eomer, Arwen, eowyn and Haldir if you also write for them) react to a person they have a crush on who is physically affectionate with their friends.

The person holds their hand, puts their head on their shoulder, plays with their hair, cuddles etc.

Oh heck yessss! I do plan on writing for them too so here’s a good start 🥰 hope you enjoy this! Also, cut because loooong post 😉

LoTR Characters When You’re Naturally Physically Affectionate

Aragorn

✧ Is kind of surprised but also plays it off??? Like he doesn’t want to get his hopes up and assume anything wrong at least at first.

✧ Initiates back but in really soft ways, like tugging your blankets up higher about you when he sees you’ve fallen asleep at night.

✧ Smiles privately to himself on a later evening when you fall asleep at his side, head snug against his shoulder. The fact that you trust him so well is something he truly hopes to be worthy of, just like the glowing feeling in his heart.

✧ One day you straight-up just slide the ring of Barahir off his hand to try it on yourself, not fully aware of its significance. You mean it no harm and do even less, and something about the gesture touches Aragorn so all he does is smile and shake his head, asking if it fits.

✧ You soften him so much, so much you can see it in his eyes and his actions. When you brush some of his hair back out of his face, he kisses your hands lightly, eyes searching yours.

Legolas

✧ Kind of in a state of perpetual surprised pikachu around you tbh

✧ Like sure, his best friends don’t come from the same culture so he sees enough of that, but they aren’t usually very affectionate with him in that way so you casually sliding a hand over his shoulders to get something behind him has him flustered in a way he hasn’t felt before.

✧ Finds himself mirroring your actions a bit in his own way; he pulls you back from harm by your waist or elbow, holding on just a bit longer than he absolutely needs to.

✧ His eyes widen when you tell him his hair is beautiful and ask to braid it, but he accepts because what harm can it do? You tell him you’re doing a French braid and he’s relishing your touch, asking you to explain what that is.

✧ Smooth prince pulls the ‘your hands are cold’ on you to flip the script and let you know the affection is reciprocated, cradling your hands so gently in his own.

Boromir

✧ Is surprised by your forwardness, but in the most pleasant way. He loves someone who comes across so warm and hearty!

✧ The first time you clap a hand to his shoulder after a good fight, he mirrors the gesture immediately with a great warrior’s camaraderie without realizing anything.

✧ Goes from surprised to grinning when you offer to braid some hair out of his face for him. Milks the crap out of it, tilting so he can feel your touch as much as possible!

✧ Has no qualms about holding your arm or hand to walk together since you don’t, always offering it like a gentleman.

✧ Holds you back from danger firmly, keeping his grip as he whispers to you to stay back, care for you burning fiercely in his eyes. When you’re safe from harm, he finally voices how much you mean to him.

Gimli

✧ His eyebrows shoot up into his hairline when you first get comfortable enough to act that way, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t love it!

✧ Dwarves are arguably the most physical race, so the fact that you express yourself this way is only the most pleasant of shocks.

✧ You find yourself playing with his hair one day and he stiffens, reminding himself over and over again as you begin twisting it into braids that unfortunately the significance is not the same for you as it is him. Maybe one day…

✧ Loves that you grab his arm when you laugh and elbow him playfully; begins doing the same right back and telling more jokes as an excuse for you both to do it more!

✧ Because you tend to lean on him in conversation or when you’re tired, Gimli sort of develops this habit of affectionate mini-headbutts like a cat. Your forehead? Softly bonked often by your favorite dwarf but only when his helmet is off of course 😌

Frodo

✧ It’s not a culture shock for him, so it’s not a source of confusion but it does have him overthinking because are you just doing it as intimate friends or…?

✧ Basically short-circuits for a second the first time you take his hand, sliding his palm against yours to compare the sizes of them; his eyes widen, but a smile gradually forms upon his face at the warm contact.

✧ Adores the way you sit close to him to read together or tell stories, your arms flush together as you share warmth- it’s like a little piece of home.

✧ Doubly so when you see the toll the ring takes on him and run a soothing hand up and down his back- he could practically tear up from gratitude and the way his heart explodes for you.

✧ You kissed him on the cheek once when he gifted you a sketch he knew you’d like and that feeling joins the imaginations and memories swirling through his head before sleep or when he loses sight of all the world’s blessings beneath the ring’s voice. He wonders if you know what a treasure you are- perhaps he’ll tell you tomorrow.

Sam

✧ What are you trying to do, kill him? JK mostly but man will be blushing constantly around someone like you!

✧ Leans into your touch so hard when you play with his hair, softly brushing leaves and tangled alike from the curls unabashedly like a sweet puppy.

✧ But also? Sam isn’t afraid to gently ask for what he wants from time to time? “Oh, um, I was wondering…got a real bad knot here and I just wanted to see if you were up to one of your famous massages?”

✧ You took his hand once to lead him off to look at some gorgeous flowers he could identify, so Sam finds himself plucking up the courage to take yours after a fight once, swearing he means to his best to protect you.

✧ Wraps his extra blanket around you so gently, smiling as your hands brush his to accept the new warmth about your shoulders, lingering over them for a moment.

Merry

✧ He’s a bit of a physical person too and teasing to boot so you two quickly become two peas in a pod!

✧ Both of you will teasingly sling arms around the other’s shoulders as you joke around or have mock conferences.

✧ Footsie at campfire time. Gimli complains about it a little because something about thinking you’re going to make him spill his soup or whatever, but you two barely pay attention when all your focus is on your childish little nudging game!

✧ Every now and again he just gets the widest smile at your antics, though, grinning as you sit with your arm in his or a hand resting upon his back.

✧ Will straight-up tell you you’re being adorable, then skip off smirking when he’s finally gotten you to be a bit flustered! You can’t even come up with a comeback to that for once…but maybe a confession? Big brain Merry wbk 👀

Pippin

✧ He’s in heaven, actually. Physical affection is his favorite and the one thing that ever stops him is being unsure if the other party will be uncomfortable. But you clearly aren’t, so game on 😎

✧ You got something out of his hair then ended up playing with his curls for a bit, brushing them back into place and arranging them, so he ups that by brushing some out of your face the next chance he gets, eyes never leaving yours.

✧ Since Pippin loves to sing and dance, he’s always pulling you to your feet to join him. But it doesn’t stop there of course as he holds your hand or waist depending on how open of a twirl the song entails!

✧ You two never sit up straight- someone’s head is always on the other’s shoulder or if you’re both feeling the lean, your heads are resting gently against each other, holding each other up.

✧ When he worries, you lay your hand over his and that’s it for him. He knows he’s lost, not even caring if you see how much love is in his eyes as he looks at you, especially when you gently squeeze it.

Eomer

✧ Unlearning his toxic masculinity a bit, so he is hesitant to initiate back at first, but as time goes on he can’t help questioning if there truly is more to your intentions…

✧ You tease him a lot, trying to get him to drop the serious facade, so putting your hands on his shoulders and making eye contact for mocking pep talks just has him chuckling and shaking his head at you.

✧ But when you wordlessly begin massaging his shoulders after a long day of training, hands kneading out tension in the most wondrous of ways, that has him flushing and trying to glance back at your expression without you noticing, hoping he can read something, anything.

✧ Eomer loves the way you push him when you laugh, hands against his chest or arm as you fall upon him in mirth. And if his arm ends up around you during that process? Oh well 😏

✧ Gets highkey jealous if he sees you being affectionate with anyone else, pouting because he thought he was special 🥺…but only for a moment before he’s marching over there to tell you how he feels once and for all, confessing his desire to be the one receiving most of your affection!

Haldir

✧ It definitely takes him some getting used to because he is a more reserved person and physical affection is a bit less common in elf culture…we’ve seen how surprised he is about hugs after all 😉

✧ Makes it his personal mission not to jump whenever your habit of tapping his shoulder to get attention comes into play, trying to stay stock-still and cool as a cucumber, but he can’t help feeling the corners of his mouth tug up at your giggle when he fails.

✧ Loses his absolute mind the day you gently run your fingers up his arm to get your attention, like it can’t escape your notice how he tenses, can it?

✧ Haldir expresses himself more with his words than with physical action. Every time you go out he makes sure you’re properly armed or dressed for the weather, and he always sharpens your sword himself, no one else is allowed to do it.

✧ Your actions are definitely a prompt to confess for him, like he would have sat on his feelings for quite some time but in the end he can’t help coming up to you to question your behavior and if it has any of the intent he dearly hopes it does!

Eowyn

✧ She isn’t used to this given her upbringing, but in all honesty it’s refreshing and she enjoys the feeling of love and comfort it brings.

✧ You see her looking worried and squeeze her shoulder, pulling her into your arms when she turns around. You can just feel her exhale, tension melting from her body.

✧ It quickly becomes you two’s ‘thing’ to link arms and you almost always walk together like that, screw whatever Grima has to say about it he won’t be around for long anyway 😏

✧ She thinks her heart is about to burst the day you two make home of the hills for an afternoon and you sit her down to weave flowers in her beautiful golden hair. Your hands are so gentle, never causing a single pull or tangle.

✧ She is forward with her words even if it takes some time, so one day Eowyn pulls you aside and with her hand in yours tells you how much she appreciates the glow of your presence in her life, the smiles you bring her.

Arwen

✧ Most people aren’t very playful with her, so she finds it very refreshing how relaxed, affectionate, and fun you are.

✧ You grab her hand and swing your joined hands between the two of you and all she can do is laugh merrily!

✧ One day, she wants to try the new sweets you’ve made, but imagine her surprise when you hand-feed it to her. Being an elf of such poise and grace, she doesn’t make a mess at all somehow despite her eyes firmly being on yours and nowhere near your creation 👀

✧ Arwen’s favorite habit of yours is the way you’ll take her hand and spontaneously twirl her around like you’re showing her off or having an impromptu dance. It lightens the weight of all other things for a moment and makes her feel like a queen!

✧ Repaying the favor, she makes sure you’re her first dance at every party. You open her up, giving her complete comfort to approach you and interlock your fingers, asking you if you won’t please her with your company for a bit. Of course you always say yes- you would even if she didn’t given you that teasing smile.

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sindar-princeling · 2 years

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between the newsletter’s entry where we learn the ponies are okay, me picking apart rings of power and analysing why it doesn’t fully feel like tolkien, and this one gifset of frodo and sam i reblogged, i felt like i finally have to gather my thoughts regarding what makes tolkien tolkien

and while there are many things that do, i’d argue that the most special one is its earnestness.

characters in LOTR care unabashedly, with all their hearts, and love so easily, whether it’s platonic, familial or romantic.

the hobbits feel like the most obvious example - merry, pippin and sam follow frodo for as long as they’re able; their loyalty goes deep to their bones, and their relationships are so full of trust, joy, devotion, fondness.

but all of LOTR is just more examples of the same thing. after the war legolas spends the rest of his life in middle-earth with gimli - they travel together for over a hundred years - and then he decides he won’t just say goodbye when gimli dies! and he does something that hasn’t been done before and just takes gimli to valinor, but not before aragorn dies. because they both loved him, too. faramir asks “do you not love me, eowyn?“ and she realises she does, and he says he’ll marry her and they’ll grow a garden and heal, and he kisses her even though everyone can see them. sam loves frodo, and he loves rosie, and he spends his life with her, then joins frodo in the undying lands after she dies.

and it shines through in the movies, too! it’s thanks to both the direction and the acting skills of the cast, of course, that so, so often all emotions are on full display - whenever sam and frodo interact, when aragorn kisses boromir’s forehead, when the hobbits say goodbye at the grey havens, when pippin finds merry at the battlefield, the way gandalf reacts when frodo says he’ll go to mordor, the way theoden breaks down at his son’s grave, the way he cares about eowyn like she’s his own child, the way eomer reacts when he finds eowyn and thinks she’s dead. those are just examples off the top of my head.

it’s also very special to me because in many fictional works (not only in fantasy) people just aren’t allowed to be that open - mostly men, but not exclusively - meanwhile this earnestness is something i always look for in fiction.

it stands out especially if you consider some fantasy creators (not naming any names but you know who i mean ajsjdjfjf) saying they “just want to reflect the misogyny of the period” (which is just bullshit and also demeaning to people of all genders in so many ways), because while LOTR is heavily male-dominated, tolkien managed to do something very, very interesting and important there.

he says, “war is the province of men”, but it doesn’t mean you’re supposed to want to be there. you’re not supposed to want to go to battle, suffer and/or die. eomer wants eowyn to stay home because he loves her, and couldn’t stand to see her die in a cruel, gruesome way (and when he thinks she’s dead, it’s the most devastating display of grief in the whole movie trilogy).

the heroes go to war because there are things that need defending, and dying for a noble cause is honorable, but again - it’s about defending, not about fighting. the clearest villains of LOTR are people who want the war to happen. many of the heroes, most of whom are men, just want peace for their people, want companionship (one of the first things aragorn says to the hobbits is that he’d be happy to have more friends, because being a ranger means he’s lonely), or want a good meal and a good drink like the hobbits. they want comfort and warmth. they want to finish a book like bilbo. they want to live in a garden among all things that live and grow like faramir. they want to marry and have a home and kids like sam.

and the things is, it’s not always that common in fiction, but it’s absolutely common, you know. IN REAL LIFE? BECAUSE MEN ARE PEOPLE? so it’s just really good to have tolkien absolutely divorce masculinity in his works from how his characters show emotions, or how much comfort they crave. and that is a realistic approach i’m interested in.

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roselightfairy · 2 months

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Real Legolas stans can give you a baffled half-hour outburst about how we don't understand why the HECK Legolas was given all these increasingly ridiculous and absurd stunts in the movies while his single, beautifully-written, traditionally heroic (and much more plausible) moment was omitted entirely.

Legolas laid down his paddle and took up the bow that he had brought from Lórien. Then he sprang ashore and climbed a few paces up the bank. Stringing the bow and fitting an arrow he turned, peering back over the River into the darkness. Across the water there were shrill cries, but nothing could be seen. Frodo looked up at the Elf standing tall above him, as he gazed into the night, seeking a mark to shoot at. His head was dark, crowned with sharp white stars that glittered in the black pools of the sky behind. But now rising and sailing up from the South the great clouds advanced, sending out dark outriders into the starry fields. A sudden dread fell on the Company. 'Elbereth Gilthoniel!' sighed Legolas as he looked up. Even as he did so, a dark shape, like a cloud and yet not a cloud, for it moved far more swiftly, came out of the blackness in the South, and sped towards the Company, blotting out all light as it approached. Soon it appeared as a great winged creature, blacker than the pits in the night. Fierce voices rose up to greet it from across the water. Frodo felt a sudden chill running through him and clutching at his heart; there was a deadly cold, like the memory of an old wound, in his shoulder. He crouched down, as if to hide. Suddenly the great bow of Lórien sang. Shrill went the arrow from the elven-string. Frodo looked up. Almost above him the winged shape swerved. There was a harsh croaking scream, as it fell out of the air, vanishing down into the gloom of the eastern shore. The sky was clean again. There was a tumult of many voices far away, cursing and wailing in the darkness, and then silence. Neither shaft nor cry came again from the east that night.

Also, when I was first reading these books, I was going really really fast and I missed the couple of mentions of "Legolas and Gimli are friends now, isn't that weird?" and so I do believe THIS was the scene that bowled me over and strapped the goggles to my face:

'Praised be the bow of Galadriel, and the hand and eye of Legolas!' said Gimli, as he munched a wafer of lembas. 'That was a mighty shot in the dark, my friend!' 'But who can say what it hit?' said Legolas.

#lotr newsletter #lotr reread #legolas x gimli #legolas #also i say 'real' only as a joke in that first part i'm not actually trying to gatekeep i'm sorry

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spinningalbinoturtle · 3 months

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Social Media headcanons

Aragorn

Has an official Instagram and Facebook accounts as a head of state. He also has a private account that his friends follow him on: strideranger alternatively strangerranger or rangerdanger on tiktok. His insta consists solely of pictures of his horse, Arwen and occasionally videos of cool plants or wildlife. He captions thing like an old man. His Tiktok is tracking tutorials and again nature videos. He hates twitter and isn’t on it.

Legolas

All the social medias his names include princeofmirkwood, andmybow, and legolocks. Has over a million followers in insta, tiktok and twitter. He posts lots of glammy photos of himself in the woods and tutorials of how to keep your hair and makeup intact in the battlefield. He also edits slow mows of himself shooting orcs. Doesn’t have Facebook because he claims its “for old people” despite being the second oldest member of the fellowship Posts his random thoughts in twitter and gets like thousands of retweets every time

Gimli

anmyaxe, lordofglitteringcaves, gimlet, are some of his names. Posts angry rants on twitter and faceboo. Regularly gets into internet fights with trolls. Posts videos on tiktok of his various stone projects and his workout routine (the latter gets a lot of views) Everyone loses it when he and Legolas team up for a “elf braid vs dwarf braid” youtube video. Oh yes he also has a very popular youtube channel where he explains how to of various craft trades.

Pippin

Has made foolofatook his name for everything and also a hashtag. Huge on twitter and twitch, he also has insta and tiktok and a youtube channel with Merry. Said Youtube is very popular and involves pranks, media reviews, and him and Merry doing stupid shit

Merry

Does a lot of work on the channel with Pippin. Also has a twitch and twitter. Insta king people think he’s really cool. He is the kind of person who shares his progress on candy crush and duolingo. Tried to make merrychristmas his username but it was taken and so went with theweedprofessor. His tiktok is more popular than Pippin’s but Pippin’s twitter is more popular

Sam

Not huge on social media mostly got it because his friends peer pressured him into it. Has facebook and always says happy birthday to people on it but gets annoyed by all the politics. His instagram is samnotsowise alternatively gardeningamgee. Its super wholesome, lots of pictures of his plants and pets and him and Frodo. Sometimes he’ll post a poem

Frodo

Frodo would be on tumblr tho. Username is bagginit on insta and frodoninefingers on twitter which he never uses. His tumblr is ringringhello. He also has insta but rarely posts anything except occasionally a picture of Sam. He has a linguistics Youtube channel where he talks about elvish history and language. Actually the most political on social media this is because Frodo has a very strong moral compass and wants to get the word out about important issues.

Boromir

He’s a twitch streamer I’m sorry. He also has twitter at hornofgondor. Likes everyone of Merry and Pippin’s videos and posts and reposts them with captions like “love these guys!!!” Mostly shares memes on twitter and facebook very much dad vibes

Gandalf

Posts weird shit that no one understands on facebook and instagram at thegreywizard

Bilbo

He has facebook and likes to tag his relatives in things that he knows will annoy them. Other than that he just posts memories of Frodo like the proud parent he is Like every birthday he’ll post something really sweet and sappy like “so proud of the young man he’s become”

Elrond

He gets in trouble on twitter sometimes but not nearly as much as Thranduil

Faramir

Insta and tiktok at stewardstew. Mostly posts pics of his cats. Reposts everything Eowyn posts. Likes to uplift his friends. Answers citizen questions on official gondor accounts very warmly. Also shares memes

Eowyn

She has a podcast and everyone has been a guest at some point. She highlights inequalities in middle earth. Lots of reposts of feminist events and programs. Badass pics of her with her sword on her insta and tiktok. She does lots of tiktok challenges. Her username is iamnoman on tiktok and eowinner on instagram

Arwen

Like legolas is all over insta posts lots of glammy photos in the woods as well. But she also shares a lot of Eowyn’s posts. Posts lots of inspirational quotes and stuff. Is really into yoga and posts about that as well. Her name on all social medias is evenstarwen

#lotr #frodo baggins #sam gamgee #aragorn #eowyn #merry brandybuck #legolas #pippin took #boromir #gimli #gandalf #samfro #lotr headcanons #faramir #arwen undomiel #bilbo baggins

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intoxicated-chan · 4 months

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𝐈𝐭❜𝐬 𝐉𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐚 𝐒𝐦𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐂𝐮𝐭!

Summary ➳ When you and the rest decide to sneak up on an Orc camp, you receive an injury. You believe you can handle it yourself but Legolas thinks otherwise.

(A/n) ➳ I AM SO SORRY! Tumblr ended up deleting the request but I remember it but not all of it so forgive me if this isn’t what you wanted. If it isn’t then don’t hesitate to shoot a message or request again!! I also learned that apparently the Fellowship traveled at night and slept during the day. I seriously did not know that until today.

Word Count ➳ 1.5k

Content Warnings ➳ Gender Neutral Reader, description of violence, blood, death, stitching, blood loss, angst-to-fluff…

“There must be some other way.” Legolas uttered to Boromir. “You cannot believe that sending (Y/n) out to assassinate the Orcs is the best solution.”

“She won’t be alone, Aragorn will be there with them.” Boromir replied. “The two of them will attack from above while we attack from below.” He drew his sword, walking closer to the Orc that was alone. He was swift with it, moving behind the Orc and slitting its throat. “See? Wasn’t that hard.”

You took a deep breath as you aimed your bow, you kept your focus on the leader. You could see from the corner of your eye Aragon sneaking up on the other two. You knew he was waiting on your signal and he would wait however long, but you were all on a strict time.

Another deep breath and- “Hey!” You shouted out of instinct, Legolas’s arrow went through the Orc’s head, killing him but you brought attention to yourself.

You jumped down from the tree and quickly nocked, drew, aimed, and released at one Orc that was reaching for its weapon. You swerved past another arrow, more flying past your head until you took cover over a giant rock.

Before you could nock another arrow, an Orc came from behind, grabbing your arms to throw you against the ground. You rolled when he attempted to stab you, dodging more swings until you managed to kick his sword away.

He charged at you, taking your knife that was strapped to your leg, and used it against you. You used your bow to block a couple of slashes until he fell to the ground. Instead of standing, he got onto his knees and managed to stab you in your thigh.

You let out a scream but in return, you shot an arrow through his head. Your breathing staggered as your hand wrapped around the knife and slowly pulled it out and then covered it with terrible bandaging.

“(Y/n)!” Legolas popped up a few seconds later. “I heard you scream.”

“I believed I twisted my ankle.” You covered your wound with your as best as you could, smiling through the pain.

“Let me help you.” Legolas took your hand, helping you walk to the rest of the group. Luckily, your cloak covered your bleeding wound and your dark pants were enough to hide the blood seeping out. “We just have a couple more hours before daylight.”

Like Legolas said, Aragorn finally decided that it was time to rest. “We will set out when it becomes dark.” He told you all before he started to set up his makeshift bed.

Legolas looked over your ankle, looking closely and pressing against it, looking back at you for a reaction. “It doesn’t seem to be twisted, but it may be strained. You have been jumping a lot, and might have happened when your footing was incorrect.”

You could practically feel the sweat running down your forehead. “Does it seem bad?”

Legolas smiled, his usual smile that was beaming with kindness. “No, the pain should fade later. Are you in pain or hurt anywhere else?”

“No, no, thank you.” After Legolas joined Aragorn, chatting. It wasn’t long before it was just murmurs among the Fellowship. Sam and Frodo were cooking together, Gimli was most likely perched up against a tree sleeping, but you didn’t know about the rest.

You were farther into the forest, a needle and thread in your hand. You placed a thick piece of fabric in between your teeth and bit down, you used your other hand to keep the gash close together so you could stitch it.

You let out a strained cry as you attempted to stitch your wound yourself but it was difficult due to your vision blurring. You didn’t know how long you were out here, so focused on closing your wound that you didn’t hear branches breaking or leaves crunching.

“You’re hurt.” Legolas’s voice broke you out of your concentration. You could see the panic in his eyes, he kneeled by your side, taking the needle from you and moving your hand from your thigh. “And you’re doing it incorrectly. You’re hurting yourself more.”

He used his other hand to pull a container of water, and flushed out your wound. “How did you get this? And when?”

“Just a couple hours ago.”

“And you’ve been bleeding this entire time?” Legolas’s voice was filled to the brim with regret, like he was ashamed of himself. He carefully threaded the thread into your skin, making sure it wasn’t too tight or too loose.

You took out the cloth from your mouth. “Look Legolas, I’m still alive and well.” You tried to ease him. “I’ll be alright, I’m okay.”

“I should’ve known, you have been moving slower, as well as your reaction time.” He acknowledged. Once he finished stitching your wound, he poured water again to wash out the rest of the dried blood.

He helped you to your feet, throwing your arm over his shoulder and an arm around your waist. He moved at a slow pace back to camp, everyone was now asleep, save it for Aragorn who just watched you both silently.

He helped you lay down. “I’ll be fine.” You repeated yourself, it felt like the hundredth time.

Legolas shook his head. “Please, do not hide anything. You shouldn’t be silent about these kinds of things.”

As if waking up very early in the morning couldn’t be any better, Orcs have seemed to find you all. You had a feeling that they were stalking you all, waiting for the moment to attack. You used your bow instead of your sword, making sure none of the Orcs came close to the Hobbits.

An Orc charged at you. You dodged the first couple of swings but not the kick to the leg, making you kneel and it felt like the stitches broke.

You screamed as you used your arrow to stab it into the Orc’s shoulder. Legolas’s arrow came from behind and slew the bastard and Merry came to your side to help you stand.

“Run into the forest!” Boromir shouted, blocking the sword coming down at him. “Go! Quickly!”

Merry helped you speed through the forest. You suddenly felt sick, like you wanted to pass out. But it wasn’t long before the Orcs gave up the chase and Merry sat you against a tree.

“They’re bleeding!” Merry alerted the rest of the Fellowship.

Legolas dropped in front of you, pushing your hands away from the wound. “I need a needle and thread.” He said, more like demanded. “Or a cloth to stop the bleeding.”

Aragorn ripped a piece of his shirt and handed it to Legolas, he snatched it and was quick to tie it around your wound. “I’ll need some herbs, in case the wound becomes infected.” Sam shuffled through his bag. “Luckily you should be able to walk but not run.”

You swore under your breath. “It seems the Orcs are watching us at all times.” You looked up at Aragorn. “What do we do?” You asked him.

“There may be another camp nearby.” Aragorn replied. “Boromir, Legolas, we need to search.”

“Someone should stay and protect the Hobbits.”

“Gimli is here and (Y/n) still has the strength to use their bow.”

“But what if they need to retreat? What will happen then?” Legolas still pressed, wanting to remain by your side. “We cannot put the Hobbits at risk, especially the ringbearer.”

“Gimli will be here, just go with them.” You told him.

“I will not.”

Aragorn was too annoyed to even put up an argument anymore. “Let us go then.”

When they were out of sight, you pushed his shoulder slightly. “What was that?” You asked him, confused out of your mind.

“Someone must be here to protect the Hobbits-”

“I know that, it would’ve been fine. They are taking care of the camp, the Orcs won’t be nearby to bother us.” You once again tried to explain to him. “What is going on with you? Are you still feeling guilty?”

“No-”

“Doesn’t seem like that.” Your breathing hitched as you attempted to stand.

Legolas grabbed your warm to stop you. “You cannot be moving at the moment. Give yourself time to relax.”

“It’s just a small cut!”

“A cut that could’ve killed you.”

You huffed. “What is going on with you Legolas?”

“Becoming reckless is one thing but hiding a serious injury that could have killed you is another. It makes me worry, it makes me question if you have more injuries you’ve hidden.”

“Look, I’m sorry that I didn’t tell you about the wound. I didn’t think that it would mean so much for you.” You admitted.

“I worry, I worry every single day, every fight, during the night and during the daybreak. Will the morrow be the day where someone or something takes you from me?” His hand grazed over your wound. “I just want to know I’ve done everything and anything.”

“I’m sorry.” You apologized again.

“Just promise me, I do not care how small it is or how big, please do not hesitate to ask for help.”

You nodded. “I promise.”

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faeriichaii · 3 months

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Greetings 🤗 could I requested how the fellowship would realise their feelings for reader and how would their behaviour change towards them? Thank you! <3

The Fellowship and how they would realize their feelings

A/N: I am finally back!! I am so happy to be able to write again and I apologize that you had to wait so long for your request :( omg I never got like a headcanon (??) request and like I am so excited!! Especially cause it's kinda a big group and like I never wrote anything for the hobbits or like for Aragorn or Boromir hihi <33 (Tbh it was like so hard cause I really noticed I don't really know much about their characters or well I don't really know much about them?? idk idk... so some could be a little bit off so I apologize!!) But I still hope you like this!!!

⇢ ˗ˏˋ Warnings: fluff (maybe some ooc behaviour) ࿐ྂ ⇢ ˗ˏˋ Words: 1.3k in total ࿐ྂ ⇢ ˗ˏˋ Request: Yes (thank you <33) ࿐ྂ

Aragorn:

I think he would notice his growing feelings for you rather quickly. He would probably notice this after watching you argue with passion about some kind of topic with another person. The way you stand behind your opinion and fight for the things you love and adore. The passion that lines every single word that passes your lips. The way your eyebrow raises at your opponent and their silly sentences, that absolutely make no sense to you. Honestly, I doubt that much changes from his behaviour because he already is a caring person. Maybe his hand would sometimes hold onto your hand to make sure you know that he stands behind you and your decisions. Maybe he also tends to polish your weapons for you and maybe he also prepares a few arrows for you if you decide to use a bow. And maybe, just maybe he shows you a few tips and tricks with the sword in order to make sure that nothing could harm you. Because he knows, that you can handle yourself in any kind of fight. But practice still helps to ensure your safety, especially in the case that the both of you get separated.

Legolas:

Like Aragorn, he would catch onto his growing fondness for you rather quickly. He probably would notice his feelings after catching you being so incredibly sweet and kind towards one of the hobbits. The way you immediately tried to help Frodo through his doubts. How you tried to cheer him up by telling him that he will make it. That all of you will make it and finish the quest at hand. You always try your hardest to brighten everyone’s day with your positivity and your cheerfulness. Legolas couldn’t do anything else than fall for you head over heels. The warmth that you always spread around captured him and his heart. He would probably (definitely) ask to braid your hair (in case you are totally unaware of the custom behind it). But he would probably also try being constantly close to you. Not in a clingy way. Well, more like a moth that was drawn to a flame. (Maybe a tiny bit in a clingy way). And oh as soon as the quest is over he will try to find any kind of artistic measure to capture your heart with.

Gimli:

Listen, he definitely takes a while to realize his feelings. But he would totally notice some kind of admiration after you beat him in battle. The way you just jump from one enemy to another and rip them apart. Your strength and the way you just push through them with ease. (He still will huff after you declare that you definitely killed more enemies than he did). He would also try his best to deny his feelings and try to act indifferently or like ‘he doesn’t care’ (Even though he definitely cares). He would definitely clean your weapons and sharpen them for you. After returning home he will forge an axe or sword for you. Maybe even a courting bead if the time has come for him to stop battling his feelings and just face them.

Boromir:

I think he would take a little while to notice his feelings towards you. Probably due to the fact that he mostly is being occupied by the power of the ring or maybe due to the pressure of the quest that lays heavily on his shoulder. He knows it is an important journey. So his heart did stutter after you reassured him with your kind words. The way you spoke with him and the way you just would listen to his worries. It felt like you really cared for him and his wellbeing and he really just needed someone to talk to. Someone who was willing to listen to him (especially because I feel that some people tend to misunderstand him). And you just happen to really want to listen to his worries and try to push him through it. Try to show him that you would be by his side while he follows the path of the journey. After he realized his feelings for you he would definitely try his best to take care of you the way you did for him. He would support your decisions and if you happen to have a bad day he would stand by your side and listen to your worries and just do the same things you did for him. Care for you and give you the support you need.

Sam:

Oh he would totally catch onto his feelings quickly. Probably after receiving your praise for how well he had prepared dinner that night. The way your eyes lit up at the first taste of the soup and how you hummed in approval at the flavour. He definitely would blush and smile dumbly while stirring the pot (definitely lost in the thought of your beautiful smile). He definitely would be more fidgety and bashful around you. He would probably also share some of his portions of food with you (In case you are hungry or you already finished your food for the trip). And maybe he would give you just a little bit more food if he was the one preparing the food (either for breakfast or dinner or the portions for travelling idk idk). (And maybe just maybe he would carefully prepare like a cute flower crown or smth for you.)

Frodo:

His feelings for you were definitely the last thing on his mind. He would definitely notice them however, after you carefully hold him close to you after another one of his nightmares he had. Gently stroking his hair while holding him towards your chest, mumbling to him that everything will be alright. He didn’t even notice the way he had clung onto you. But you didn’t mind that. All that you wanted to do was reassure him and try to give him the strength he needs to push through this. His heart filled with warmth at your kindness and at the support you lend him. Every time when he struggles, he just looks at you and he immediately feels better. He will definitely try to reassure your worries and try to be there for you the way you always seem to be there for him.

Merry:

I think he would be a little like Pippin when it comes to the realization of his feelings. Like, he would definitely not notice his feelings at first, but after you did protect him from a few Orcs, he couldn’t help but admire you. He wanted to get stronger (and maybe protect you too yk?) So he will definitely learn a few sword fighting skills from Boromir and Aragorn, but he will mostly try to practice with you. To understand the way you swing your sword and to understand the fighting tactics you use. (He also just wanted to spend more time with you) And maybe just maybe when the time has come, he will raise his sword against an Orc and protect you.

Pippin:

Oh he would definitely take his time realizing his feelings. But he does realize them, after he notices that you seem to be one of the only people who was not completely mad at him for his constant clumsiness. Yes, he made mistakes. But that is normal, isn’t it? Everyone makes mistakes and you try to explain that to him. The way you try to make him understand that even Gandalf or Aragorn took wrong turns in their lives made him feel a little bit better. You would explain to him that mistakes need to happen in order for him to grow as a person. Nobody is perfect, is what you told him with a beaming smile. But he couldn’t believe your words if you sat in front of him and just existed. He would definitely try and make you laugh as much as possible. Especially if the days or nights are rough and maybe everything is grey, he definitely still will try to brighten your day with either very silly harmless jokes or pranks.

#lotr x reader #legolas x reader #aragorn x reader #boromir x reader #gimli x reader #frodo x reader #sam x reader #pippin x reader #merry x reader #the fellowship x reader #listen i tried ok

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tathrin · 10 months

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Oh no help, why is my brain suddenly full of an RAF (or RFC) AU where Legolas is a pilot who gets the nickname “Greenleaf” because of how lightly and acrobatically he flies (and also he should probably be Irish or Scottish so the Brits can be derisive about his “more dangerous and less wise” people hmm? ooh or Indian! doesn’t really matter as long as he wears a lot of green so the nickname makes sense lmao) while Gimli was too short for the army but is a fucking amazing mechanic and basically single-handedly responsible for how amazing this unit’s planes are and how no matter how wrecked their planes are if they can get them back to base at all he can fix them, and Legolas fell in love basically the first time he saw Gimli work his miracles with that wrench and Gimli is not in love thank you, he is very very annoyed by this chipper pilot who keeps getting holes shot in his fucking wings and he definitely doesn’t like him at all and certainly doesn’t go out of his way to tinker with Legolas’s plane all the time and make sure it’s the absolute best machine in the air oh no nope definitely not dammit and he certainly doesn’t fret every time Legolas flies off into battle or comes back with his engine smoking again that fucker oh how Gimli loathes him! until one day he finally hops out of a just-barely-landed-successfully plane that is literally on fire Legolas what the fuck you idiot and oh and he stumbles what’s wrong oh no is he hurt oh no and Gimli runs over to help him up and instead they kiss right on the runway oh fuck—!

And the whole unit has been taking bets on this forever, so Commander Strider has to come break up the fistfight between Éowyn-who-definitely-isn’t-using-her-brother’s-ID-and-the-whole-unit-doesn’t-know-she’s-secretly-a-girl-NOPE and Boromir over who now owes whom money before Boromir’s little brother, the only one in the unit who hasn’t figured out that Éowyn is a girl yet, does something stupid trying to stop his brother fighting with “the fellow” he definitely doesn’t have a crush on Boromir please—!

Strider is so tired. He didn’t sign-up for herding idiots in love, he’s just trying to win the damn war, do you lads MIND???

Lord Mithrandir is sitting in his office watching the show from the window and laughing so hard, he fucking loves his deranged pilots so much. He has pulled so many blatant cover-ups for their hijinks, and everybody in high command knows that he’s tossing aside regulations left and right, but his units are the most successful pilots in the damn skies so nobody can do anything about it dammit. (He’s also definitely in cahoots with General Galadriel, who pulls his ass out of the fire every damn time somebody tries to bestow some kind of reprimand or punishment, and who gets regular “briefings” about his pilots that absolutely aren’t just gossip in disguise, and which she certainly doesn’t pass along to her granddaughter who’s engaged to Commander Strider, who definitely isn’t royalty in disguise, nope nope and also nope.)

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oxbellows · 19 hours

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Welcome Home! Nothing Weird Happened.

Written based on @emilybeemartin's spectacular Boromir Lives AU comics, with permission. I might write more, who knows.

My whole thought process here is this: if Boromir lives and makes it back to Minas Tirith, he is about to receive an absolutely ludicrous quantity of bad news. And I for one think it would be both plausible and hilarious for Pippin to be the one who ends up delivering that news. So here we are!

Trigger warnings for that whole pyre situation from Return of the King.

It was fitting, to Boromir’s mind, that the battle for Minas Tirith should be decided by dead men. So many had died for the city of kings already, their blood seeping into her soil like rain. Why, then, should her fate rest solely in the hands of the living? An unnatural justice rang out in the clang of steel against phantom blades, heralding the return of a hope long since given up for lost.

“None but the king of Gondor may command me,” the wraith hissed.

“You?” Boromir had roared. “You, Oathbreaker? I am the heir to the Stewards of Gondor. Generations of my kin have died for an empty throne. None but the king of Gondor may command ME. Here stands the king of Gondor before us, and you will suffer him as I have!”

And suffer him they did. Sickly green washed over the last armored oliphaunt as the dead claimed more souls for their own. Boromir pulled his eyes away from the spectacle and spun his sword in his hand, scanning the area around him for the next foe. He found none. Only the backs of retreating orcs, and weary Men attending to their fallen brothers. That and, out of the corner of his eye, the strangest possible trio of a Man, a Dwarf, and an Elf. Finding no enemy to engage, Boromir instead turned his step toward the strange trio to embrace his friends in the wake of victory.

Aragorn, king of Gondor, did not appear especially regal at the moment. He was covered in grime and gore, surrounded by the corpses of orcs left to rot in the open field. Gimli’s sturdy metal armor was slick with blood, and it dripped steadily off the edge of the axe that he had slung over one shoulder. Legolas, of course, was only as disheveled as he might have been after a short run, clean of the muck that covered the rest of them. His hair still fell properly at his shoulder, what witchcraft did the Elf use to maintain it?

Boromir could only imagine what he himself must look like. He knew that he was damp and smelled like death, which did not bode well for a lordly appearance. Nonetheless, even in all his heavy armor Boromir felt lighter than he had since childhood. The battle was over, fought now only by those straggling beasts that had not managed to escape the field on foot. Boromir was still, impossibly, alive, and so were his companions. So was his king.

The enemy may yet prevail, but Gondor would not fall before the White Tree bloomed again. It was more than his grandfathers had ever dared to hope.

“Is that blood in your hair or just its natural grease?” Boromir asked his king, sliding his sword back into its scabbard and stepping over the body of a fallen orc to approach him.

Aragorn laughed, raising one dirty hand to skim his fingertips over the top of his head. “I cannot say, Captain. I only know that in either case, I would wash it before I present myself to your lord father.”

Boromir clicked his tongue dismissively. “My lord father’s not the one we have to worry about. If my brother hears that I’ve brought Isildur’s heir home in such a state, he’ll throttle me.”

He almost continued speaking. He almost added, if he’s alive. Aragorn heard the unspoken caveat all the same. His dark eyes had a softness in them when he spoke.

“The battle is over, Captain of the White Tower,” Aragorn said. “We must turn our efforts now to the dead and wounded. May we not find you kin among them.”

If the taste of ash settled on the back of Boromir’s tongue, it could be attributed to the smell of Mordor’s filthy army laying dead at his feet, and not to the terrible image that flashed across his mind’s eye of Faramir’s bloodied and unblinking face.

“My father will be well,” Boromir asserted, determined not to speculate on his brother’s wellbeing. “He is past his time as a warrior. He will have commanded our troops from a place of safety within the walls.”

Aragorn inclined his head in assent. His hair really was a sight- black blood had matted chunks of it together, and where they stood now in the open field, with the sun just beginning to peek through the enemy’s unnatural bank of shadow, Boromir could see that his clothes were in much the same state. Perhaps this was why Aragorn so persistently favored black for his travel clothes. Were he wearing any other color, it would be obvious that he was as drenched in the blood of orcs as if he had bathed in it.

A warrior of staggering skill was this king of Men, but he preferred not to proclaim his deadliness to the world. He tucked it away into shadow until such skill was needed. Perhaps one day Boromir might look upon this man that he called brother and not be humbled by the mere sight of him.

Perhaps.

“I will search with a sharp eye, then, for Captain Faramir,” Aragorn promised.

Boromir closed the distance between them to grip Aragorn’s shoulder in thanks. Aragorn returned the gesture with ferocity, digging his fingers into the mail covering Boromir’s upper arm. Gimli thumped Boromir’s back in a heavy handed gesture of approval, and Legolas bowed his head with a coy smile. A river of unspoken words passed between the four of them, about great and important things like love and fear at the end of the world, and then they released each other. Aragorn turned his stride towards the Citadel to lend his knowledge of elvish medicine to the House of Healing. Legolas and Gimli set out together to help carry the wounded into the city for aid. Boromir made for the rocky outcrop at the city’s outermost wall, the one that archers favored for its vantage point. There he was sure he would find rangers, and hopefully news of Faramir.

The walk carried him past countless dead orcs and uruk-hai, but also more dead men and horses than Boromir had ever seen on a single field. For every pair of comrades he saw embrace in giddy relief, another wail of grief reached his ears from somewhere else. His mail grew heavier with every step he took.

Boromir had scarcely made it halfway to the archer’s outpost before he was stopped by the sound of his own name.

“Captain Boromir!” a familiar voice shouted. “You live!”

Boromir stopped and whirled about. There, about ten yards from Boromir, close enough to the outermost wall to be half-concealed in its shadow, crouched a man in a forest-green cloak. His hands still hovered over a fallen Gondorian soldier, as if he had frozen partway through checking for signs of life. Before the man in green rose to stand, he brushed a hand over the fallen one’s face, coaxing his eyes shut before stepping away. Boromir felt a dull pang of grief in his already overburdened heart at the confirmation that yet another of his countrymen was dead. He had no time to acknowledge that pain, though, as the man in green righted himself fully. The green cloak, brown leather vambraces, and longbow on his back all sparked immediate recognition.

Boromir knew this man, had met him before, but his weary mind failed to provide a name for him. It hardly mattered. The uniform he wore told Boromir everything he needed to know. Faramir had been clad exactly the same, the last time Boromir had seen him. This was one of the rangers of Ithilien, his brother’s own company. Hope swelled painfully in his chest. He hastened his step towards the ranger.

The ranger rushed to meet him and performed a quick, obligatory salute when they were close enough to speak comfortably. “My lord,” he greeted, breathless. “Your father thought you dead, but we in Captain Faramir’s company held out hope.” A wide grin split across his face. “You cannot imagine how sorely you’ve been missed!”

Seeing his smile finally dragged the ranger’s name to the front of Boromir’s memory. “Anborn,” he said warmly. “It’s good to see you alive and well. Tell me, what news do you have of my brother?”

Anborn’s smile dropped, giving way to a look of naked concern as quickly as a candle being snuffed out. “I have no news, my lord, none that is not two days old at least.”

"Then give me the old news,” Boromir pressed, trying not to snap.

Anborn grimaced and nodded. “My lord,” he said, haltingly, “The last time I saw your brother, my Captain, was on the day he rode out to reclaim Osgiliath with a company of forty mounted soldiers.”

Boromir could only stare for a long moment, turning over Anborn’s words in his head to try and make them comprehensible. No clarity came to him. “My brother is- in Osgiliath?”

Another grimace. “If he is still there, he is dead.” Boromir’s lungs constricted and froze. Anborn continued, “Osgiliath was overrun more than a week ago. I’ve heard rumors that Faramir made it back to the Citadel, but I cannot say any more than that without inventing rumors myself.”

“The Citadel,” Boromir repeated. He forced breath into his uncooperative lungs. He would go to the Citadel, and he would find Faramir there with their father, incoherent with frustration after arguing strategy with Denethor. He turned on his heel and started walking. Anborn said something as Boromir strode away, but he didn’t hear it properly over the ringing in his ears.

What he had heard of Anborn’s words clamored in his mind- it sounded as if Faramir had taken a company of only forty men to reclaim an overrun city. That would be absurd, though. Faramir may be prone to bouts of melancholy and brooding, but he wasn’t suicidal. And even if he did, for some reason, decide to seek his own death, he would never bring any number of Gondor’s defenders with him to do it.

Your father thought you dead.

Boromir broke into a run.

Faramir didn’t hold sway over all their troops’ movements. Faramir wasn’t the Steward.

He was moving too slowly. Stumbling to a halt, Boromir grasped at the leather straps holding his pauldrons in place and did his best to unfasten them with numb fingers. Denethor had not been the same in recent years. The shadow in the east had darkened his thoughts, day by day, and set him talking as if the end were already here. His gray eyes had glinted in a way that Boromir scarcely recognized when he’d spoken of the One Ring. He’d never favored Faramir, never encouraged him the way he deserved, but the cruelty that had colored Denethor’s every interaction with his secondborn in the year or two before Boromir left shocked him.

Boromir’s pauldrons landed on the ground in a heap, and now he doubled over to escape the shirt of mail. It was a difficult task without taking off his sword belt, but he managed. He needed to be faster, but he could not bear to go unarmed. The chain links poured gracelessly down over his head, yanking his hair as they went, and then he was free. Boromir took off running again, now unencumbered.

Faramir would never plan a suicide mission.

Would he accept one, though, if he was ordered?

Boromir’s feet touched white marble bricks for the first time in months that had felt like decades. He did not pause. Shouts followed him as he went, calling his name or exclaiming surprise. Arches and edifices flew by overhead. Rubble littered the street. He caught glances of bodies crushed under great stones.

Boromir made it to the stairs. His weary legs burned and protested, but he dared not slow his descent. He needed to know where Faramir was, now. He needed to know what had happened in Osgiliath, before any more ideas had the chance to take root in his head. If he finished the line of thinking that Anborn’s news had set off-

Boromir might kill his father with his bare hands.

So, he would not stop, and he would not think, until he found answers.

He reached the top of the stairs.

A small group of guards, maybe five or six, clustered together at the Citadel gate, all spoke over each other in urgent tones. Boromir could not hear most of their words over his own ragged breath, but he caught a few. He heard “Mithrandir” and “Witch King” and “wood”, and then, “Denethor.”

“Where?” Boromir barked. Every one of the men before him startled and turned to him with unabashed fear written across their faces.

If Boromir had looked a mess back on the fields, by now he must appear absolutely deranged. Half his armor gone, hair wild, white shirt drenched with sweat and blood- he could hardly blame the unsuspecting guards for the shock and confusion they displayed so brazenly at his question. Nor could he blame himself for the urge to grab the nearest one and shake him until he spoke sense.

Fortunately for all present, the guard furthest to the left, a man of slight and youthful stature underneath his plate armor, spoke up.

“The House of Stewards,” he said, voice trembling. He pointed in the right direction. “In the tombs. Both of them, lord and son, with orders from the Steward to be left undisturbed.”

Boromir ran like he had never done in his life.

For what possible reason would his father and brother be in the tombs in the midst of battle?

He threw himself against the door to the tombs of his forefathers. They gave way with no resistance, and as he stumbled through the opening, he noted that the floor was dusted with splintered wood. This door had already been broken through. There he stopped short.

He could not, for the life of him, make sense of the scene before him.

In the center of the foyer, directly on top of Húrin’s memorial etching, were the remains of- a bonfire? Heaps of ash and charred wood covered the usually immaculate white marble floor, built up into a high, still-smoldering mound in the chamber’s center. The air reeked of smoke. Neither Denethor nor Faramir were in sight, nor was anyone else. The tombs appeared deserted.

“Faramir?” Boromir called warily.

A clang of metal and the scuffle of unshod feet on stone answered his call, and then-

“Boromir!”

A small form collided hard with his midsection, forcing him to take a staggering step back. Small arms wrapped around him like a vice, a familiar vice, and Boromir abruptly realized that he was in the embrace of a hobbit.

“Pippin?” he demanded, aghast.

The young hobbit turned his face up to meet his gaze and a fresh wave of panic seized him. Pippin’s face was coated in ash and streaked with tears.

“Boromir!” Pippin cried again. “You have to help, Gandalf said that healers were coming but nobody came, there was screaming in the halls so I dragged him as far as I could but he’s heavy and I don’t know where Gandalf went and just- just- come here!”

The hobbit released his iron grip around Boromir’s waist in favor of clutching one of his wrists and started hauling him off to one side of the room, into a corridor of mausoleums. There, poking out of the nearest alcove, Boromir spied the lower half of a single black boot.

Pippin pulled him onward when his own pace faltered. With each step he could see more of the body that Pippin had apparently tried to drag to safety. A small, or rather, hobbit-sizedsword lay carelessly discarded on the floor beneath the alcove’s arching entrance where Pippin had dropped it. That would explain the clanging sound Boromir had heard just before being tackled, then. Which would mean that when he called out, Pippin had been guarding this archway with sword in hand.

Pippin’s relentless tugging finally forced Boromir to where he could see the stricken man on the floor.

It was Faramir.

Of course it was Faramir.

A rough, strangled sound echoed through the quiet tombs, and Boromir only realized a moment later that it had come from his own throat. Pippin darted from his side to kneel at his brother’s head, petting his hair and murmuring a soothing word. Faramir did not react in the slightest. He wasn’t dead; Boromir had seen enough dead men in his life to know with unfailing precision the difference between a dead body and a dying one.

No, his brother was not dead. He was only dying.

Boromir dropped to his knees.

In all this time that he had dreaded coming home and hearing that Faramir had fallen in battle, it had never occurred to Boromir that he might watch him die.

“He needs medicine,” Pippin pleaded, his little hand nestled in Faramir’s hair. Boromir now saw that the hobbit was dressed in the garb of the guards of Citadel, mail under a velvet tunic embroidered with the white tree. What had happened in his city? When had this barely-trained halfling become his brother’s last line of defense?

“Go,” Boromir rasped. He touched the hilt of his sword. “I will protect him now. Go to the House of Healing, down one level. Aragorn is there. He will listen to you.”

Without another word, Pippin took off at a sprint. Boromir and Faramir were left alone, together for the first time since Boromir had left for Rivendell.

Boromir wanted to scream.

Instead, he maneuvered himself carefully to sit at his brother’s side. How Pippin had managed to stash Faramir away in this little nook, Boromir had no idea. He could only just find room for himself against the wall without jostling the motionless body beside him. He reached a tentative hand out to lay it on Faramir’s forehead. He paused before he touched skin, momentarily stunned by the radiating heat. When his fingers settled on his brother’s brow, it was like touching metal that had been left in the sun too long. Faramir burned. Boromir gently smoothed his hand over damp hair.

It wasn’t just Faramir’s hair that was damp, actually. It was everything on him. His short beard, the finely embroidered collar of his tunic, the silk of his sleeves. If his fever was so high, it was not so surprising to find him coated in sweat. The choice of clothes, though, was undeniably strange. There was no blood staining the fabric. Had he not been hurt in battle, then? Had he simply been taken by a violent illness? Was there a plague in the city? That might explain the lack of gore but not the presence of finery. Boromir had only ever seen Faramir wear this tunic for ceremonies. He wouldn’t have put it on before battle, and he would certainly have taken it off if he were falling ill.

No, the only reasonable conclusion was that Faramir had not been the one to dress himself. A terrible, unspeakable suspicion wormed its way into his heart.

Boromir almost regretted sending Pippin away without first asking him what had happened to create this bizarre tableau. Almost. His answers could wait until Faramir had been brought safely into the care of physicians. He lifted his hand to stroke Faramir’s hair again, but the slickness that clung to his palm bade him pause.

That wasn’t sweat in his brother’s hair, it was something else, something more viscous. Puzzled beyond words, Boromir brought his hand close to his face to inspect it.

His palm was smeared with oil.

All at once, a dozen disparate fragments of information arranged themselves into nightmarish clarity.

Someone had dressed Faramir for a funeral. Someone had brought him into the place where the bones of their ancestors rested and covered him in oil. Someone had lit a bonfire in the center of the tombs.

Not a bonfire. A pyre.

Someone had tried to burn his little brother alive.

“No,” Boromir whispered, as if he could prevent his next thought from taking shape.

Only one person in Gondor could do any of this without being stopped.

In the tombs, the guard at the gate had said. Both of them, lord and son, with orders from the Steward to be left undisturbed.

Boromir launched himself upright, out of the cramped alcove, and was sick all over the marble floor.

For the second time in a day, Pippin found himself running for someone else’s life. At least he didn’t have so far to go this time. He could not remember ever being so tired. It was also fortunate that he knew already where to find the House of Healing. Gandalf had insisted he memorize the route there as soon as he’d made his oath to Denethor, which was a bit insulting, to be honest, but turned out very useful in the end.

The first time he’d entered the House, just a few days ago, he’d thought it was very full. Most of the rows of clean, simple cots had been occupied by rangers returning from outside the city. As he dashed through the sturdy oaken door now, though, he entered a different world entirely.

The cacophony of sound, smell and movement that surged up to meet him stopped Pippin in his tracks. The House of Healing was so crowded he could not see the far wall. He could barely see the nearest row of cots. Tall ladies rushed about in every direction, shouting orders to one another above a nauseating din of groans and cries. Pippin had been standing guard in a cloud of smoke for hours, and yet the onslaught of ugly and unfamiliar smells that accosted him here made him wish for the scent of smoke again.

His foray into the front lines of a battle had been terrifying. This place might be worse.

Boromir had said that Aragorn was here, though, and Pippin would walk headfirst into an army of orcs right now if it meant that Aragorn would help him. He never wanted to be in charge of anything, ever again, especially not trying to keep great lords and heroes alive. Aragorn was good at that sort of thing, he could take over now. Pippin took a deep breath and began forging a path through the chaos, calling Aragorn’s name as he went.

As he weaved his way through cots, ducking underneath outstretched arms and around long legs, Pippin heard questions following him that he had no desire to answer.

“How old is that boy? Who let a child in the guard?”

"Is that one of those halflings? The wizard’s pet or something?”

“Are you lost, little one?”

Some of these Men had the most terrible manners, clearly. Most of them were bleeding very badly, though, so Pippin could forgive them for their rudeness. He ignored them all and kept moving.

“Aragorn!” he shouted again.

A women that had been rushing by him paused for an instant to glare down at him. “Hush, you,” she scolded, in a voice that spoke of unquestionable authority. She wore a sort of veil with a nice brooch on it, so Pippin supposed she might be in charge here. “Lord Aragorn’s doing very important things right now and I’ll not have you disturbing him.”

Pippin’s heart jumped. “Where is he?” he asked.

The woman tsked and shook her head, making to continue along her original path. She held a bowl in her arms that Pippin was quite sure he did not want to see the inside of. Whatever it was sloshed unpleasantly when Pippin lurched after the women and grabbed a handful of her skirt to prevent her from leaving.

“The Steward has ordered me to fetch Aragorn! Show me where he is!” Pippin declared. He didn’t think it was a lie. Denethor was dead, so that made Boromir the Steward in his place, probably.

The woman gasped in surprise. “Lord Denethor lives?” she asked. “Wondrous news, we thought lord and son dead already.”

Pippin avoided the question about Denethor by standing up as straight as he could. “Lord Faramir needs medicine,” he said imperiously. “He needs Aragorn’s skill. Take me to Aragorn.”

With a quick hand gesture to follow and not another word, the woman took off walking at a brisk stride deeper into the crowded hall. Pippin had to run to keep up with her. After what seemed like a dozen maneuvers around clumps of people and cots, a figure clad all in black finally came into view.

“Strider!” Pippin cried with relief.

Aragon knelt at a young man’s bedside with a wet rag and bowl of water in his hands. He turned his face at once toward the sound of Pippin’s voice, a genuine smile gracing his lips as he did. Some of the panic that had been driving Pippin these last several hours faded away at the sight. If Aragorn was here, then surely things would get better now.

His relief faltered a bit when Pippin noticed that Aragorn was simply covered in blood- both red and black, and sweat, and grime that Pippin could not begin to identity. The Men gathered round him didn’t seem to mind Aragorn’s state, but then, most of them were splattered with blood as well, probably their own. Even Aragorn could not dispel the somber truth hanging in the air, that unimaginably many people had died today.

Faramir would join the dead soon if Pippin didn’t get a move on, so he marched past all those tall, bloodied Men to stand right at Aragorn’s side.

“Faramir’s dying,” he hissed, hoping he was quiet enough for none but Aragorn to hear. He didn’t especially want to deliver more bad news to the people in this room. “Boromir is with him, but he needs medicine, now.”

If Aragorn found this news distressing, he did not show it. He just nodded thoughtfully, and asked, “Can he walk?”

Pippin shook his head. Aragorn hummed an acknowledgment and rose to his feet. He handed the bowl and rag he’d been holding to another woman that Pippin hadn��t noticed before, murmuring something that sounded like instructions. He then spoke to the lady that had led Pippin, the one who seemed to be in charge.

“Ioreth,” he addressed her. “We have need of a stretcher.”

“It will be done,” she said, and turned on her heel to vanish back into the crowded hall.

Aragorn wiped his hands on his trousers to dry them. Pippin suspected he made them dirtier in the process. “Pippin,” Aragorn said. “Will you please lead me to Boromir and Faramir?”

“Yes, this way,” Pippin answered quickly. He was eager to be out of this terrifying place. He found it easier than before to navigate through the throng. He realized after a few moments of uninhibited movement that people were stepping aside to make way as soon as they saw Aragorn following him.

Had Aragorn already gotten around to being crowned while Pippin was busy? These people were certainly treating him like a king.

“Did you already become the King?” Pippin asked without thinking.

Aragorn chuckled dryly. “No, and I don’t think the lady healers would much care if I had. They care only that I know how to draw out the poison that covers many orcish blades, and that I’ve shared what I know.”

“Oh,” said Pippin, feeling queasy.

Finally, the door came into sight, and with a quick burst of speed, Pippin flung himself back into fresh air. Mostly fresh, anyway, permitting for some lingering smoke. The smell of blood and death that lingered in his nostrils seemed even more vile when contrasted against another, cleaner scent, and it made him gag. Aragorn placed a sympathetic hand between his shoulders.

“The battle to save the wounded is the hardest and the bloodiest,” he said gently. “There’s no shame in being shocked by it.”

Pippin couldn’t quite speak yet, so he bobbed his head in a jerky, shaking nod. He allowed himself two deep breaths before turning his attention back to the task at hand. Right. Faramir. Shot full of arrows and nearly burned to death, currently stashed in a mausoleum, actively perishing of fever. He had to bring Aragorn there, and then maybe he could sit down for a moment. He set off again at a jog.

Aragorn, being unfairly long-legged, could follow him with a brisk walk. Pippin was growing weary of these big people, he really was.

Back over the same cold marble stone he went, retracing his steps to the tombs. Two men carrying a stretcher had started following them at some point- Pippin hadn’t noticed exactly where they came from, but the stretcher they carried was already stained with red, so he suspected that they had been going back and forth from the House of Healing for a while already. Aragorn let there be silence between them for several yards, but began asking questions as soon as they crossed under a crumbling archway.

“What happened to Faramir to leave him needing medicine?”

“He was shot at least twice, I’m not sure when. Sometime yesterday.”

"Where has he been?”

“Well, he got shot when he was fighting in Osgiliath, and then the horse dragged him back, and that probably made it worse, actually, but then Denethor put him away someplace for a day or so and then brought him into the tombs and tried to burn him alive.”

Aragorn froze for a moment. “What?”

“Denethor lost his mind just before the battle started, he tried to burn Faramir alive on a pyre. And himself too, I think. He thought the world was ending.”

“Where is Denethor now?”

“He jumped off the wall.”

Aragorn took up walking again, now at a faster stride. “Boromir is with his brother now?”

"Yes,” Pippin confirmed, doing his best to keep up with Aragorn’s pace.

“Does he know what happened?”

That was a good question, actually. Had Pippin explained the situation at all? He couldn’t remember. He couldn’t remember most of today, to be honest- it was all a blur of screams and fire.

He remembered the blinding panic he’d felt when heavy footsteps had entered the tombs. He remembered clutching his sword with sweaty hands and bracing himself to get torn to shreds by uruk-hai, and then abandoning his sword to hurl himself at Boromir once he’d heard the man’s voice. What had Boromir said, though? Anything? Had Pippin said anything?

He remembered Boromir dropping heavily onto his knees. The look on his face had been awful. He looked sad and scared and sick all at once. Pippin had never been sure what the word anguish meant, but he was sure now.

“I don’t think so,” Pippin finally answered.

Aragorn muttered something to himself, a string of elvish words that Pippin had never heard before. It sounded like what Legolas said when he missed a shot, though, so Pippin could wager a guess at what it meant.

At last, they reached the door to the House of Stewards. Pippin darted through, glancing over his shoulder to make sure Aragorn was still following. Through the foyer, around the smoldering remains of the pyre, down the corridor on the right, and there they were. The lords of Gondor. Not quite as Pipping had left them.

Boromir had extracted Faramir from the alcove where Pippin had dragged him to lay his brother out in the open. The fine silk tunic Faramir had worn lay in oil-soaked shreds scattered about the floor, and the mail shirt he’d had on underneath was similarly cast aside, half-obscuring a puddle of vomit near the entry to the alcove. Pippin was sympathetic- being in this place made him want to retch, too.

Faramir lay on his side in his undershirt. The fabric had been white once, Pippin knew, but blood, oil and ash had colored it through. Boromir knelt at his back, holding him steady by the upper arm with one hand and gently tearing the cloth of the ruined shirt with the other. The cloth didn’t move the way it should when Boromir tugged it. It stuck stubbornly to Faramir’s scorched upper back and shoulder, like it had been glued there.

Pippin gasped in horror as the realization hit him. Boromir couldn’t get Faramir’s shirt off because it was stuck to his burnt skin, fused in place by the heat of the fire. Had his skin melted? Could skin melt? The thought alone sickened him.

Boromir must have heard Pippin gasp, because his head snapped up to fix the hobbit with a wild stare.

Pippin didn’t usually think of Boromir as frightening. Fearsome, of course, but not to his friends. Certainly never to Pippin.

He looked frightening now. His eyes were wide, and his pupils were tiny pinpoints. His lips were pulled back into an animalistic expression, somewhere between a grimace and a snarl, showing just a hint of teeth. His shoulders curled forward, hunching slightly over Faramir’s still form, and through his thin, damp shirt Pippin could see he was shaking with pent up energy.

When Pippin was younger, one of Farmer Maggot’s dogs had gone missing. They’d found the creature hiding under a shed, nursing a bleeding paw, growling and snapping at any hobbit that tried to approach. Boromir did not make a sound, but Pippin swore he could hear the same wounded dog’s growling all the same.

Pippin felt rather than heard Aragorn approaching from behind him, and it was a great relief when Boromir’s gaze flicked up off his face to fixate on Aragorn instead. With what seemed to be a tremendous effort, Boromir opened his mouth to speak.

“Where is Denethor?” he rasped, voice shaking.

Aragorn took a cautious step forward, moving in front of Pippin. He held his hands up, fingers splayed open, the way he did when trying to settle a spooked horse. “Boromir, my brother-” he began, voice soft and steady.

Boromir interrupted before he could take another step. “Tell me where my father is, Aragorn,” he croaked. “Tell me so I can find him and gut him.”

“He’s dead,” Pippin blurted. “He set himself on fire and then he went off the edge of the wall and died.”

Aragorn stiffened. Boromir’s jaw went slack. He heard gasps from the men carrying the stretcher behind him.

Perhaps he shouldn’t have spoken. Gandalf was always telling him something to that effect.

Boromir let out long, low groan and slumped in on himself, bowing his head so low his forehead grazed Faramir’s hair. He released the firm grip he’d been maintaining on his brother’s upper arm to grab fistfuls of his own hair instead.

Aragorn moved swiftly to kneel beside Boromir. He wrapped one arm around Boromir’s shoulders and pulled him into a lopsided embrace. Boromir went without protest, deflated and boneless against his king. Aragorn spoke to him, too softly for Pippin to hear, and coaxed him to shuffle backwards just a pace or two to create space at Faramir’s side. The two half-forgotten men with the stretcher between them seized their opportunity and swept in to gather Faramir up. Boromir twitched forward when they lifted his brother, but Aragorn held him back with a hand on his chest. With quick, synchronized steps, Faramir was taken out of the tombs.

Louder now, so Pippin could hear again, Aragorn spoke with real regret in his voice. “I must follow them. I promise I will give all the skill I have to make Lord Faramir well.”

“I’m coming,” Boromir stated.

Aragorn fixed him with a hard stare. “It will be ugly,” he warned. “I’ll have to cut the shirt off his back, and I expect much of his skin to come with it. If he wakes it will be to scream.”

“I know,” said Boromir.

“I would rather not find your blade shoved through my heart while I work.”

Boromir flushed. “I would not.”

Aragorn raised one eyebrow. “All the same, if you wish to follow, leave your sword at the door for my peace of mind.”

Boromir opened his mouth, but seemed to think better of it and simply bowed his head in assent. Aragorn hauled himself to his feet and offered Boromir a hand up, which Boromir accepted without hesitation.

“Can I help?” Pippin asked, surprising himself.

Aragorn eyed him up and down. One corner of his lips twitched upward. “Yes, Pippin, I think you can help us all very much by staying at Boromir’s side and keeping him calm. If you have any more news to deliver, however, perhaps you could share it beforewe enter the House of Healing?”

Pippin recognized the admonishment for what it was and ducked his head, chastened. On the other hand, now that he mentioned it-

“Gandalf’s staff is broken,” he announced.

Aragorn closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “I see. Thank you, Pippin. Anything else?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Very well. If you think of something, take Boromir out into the hall and tell him.” Aragorn turned to Boromir and spoke sternly. “Boromir, if Pippin takes you out into the hall, I forbid you to pick up your sword until we have had a chance to speak.”

Boromir huffed out something very close to a laugh. “Wise council, my king.”

#@emilybeemartin #lotr fic #Boromir Lives AU

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kat651 · 5 months

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Legolas x reader

Legolas : Still short, I see

Y/n : Still pretending that you're not hopelessly in love with me, I see

(This is my prompt 😃)

You sat in Meduseld, the hall of King Theodin, you were currently watching Gimli and Legolas have a drinking contest. You understood little of it but Legolas was smiling and that was really all that mattered to you. It was good to see him finally having fun.

“Game over…”

You smiled as he set down the cup and disappeared outside.

You went after him. “Legolas!” You called.

He turned. “Who’s there? I don’t see anyone?”

You rolled your eyes. “Down here ya jerk.”

He looked down. “Ah, still short I see…”

You rolled your eyes. “Still pretending that you're not hopelessly in love with me, I see.”

His face turned red and he looked away. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.

You shook your head and looked up at him. “You are a horrible liar.”

He smiled and looked down at you. “Y/n…”

You shook your head. “You’re asking for a beating.”

He snickered. “You’re too short to reach me.”

“Your terrible lying had sunk you low enough to reach.”

He reddened again and looked away, fake coughing in attempt to cover his blush.

You walked passed him. “When your done pretending not to be in love you know where I’ll b-”

He grabbed you and spun you around so you where facing him. “It may be the alcohol in my system, but…” he slowly leaned to you, providing you plenty of time to push him away but you didn’t, instead you pulled him closer.

Legolas then pulled you to his chest. “Y/n…” He mumbled as he pressed his forehead on yours.

“Yes?”

“We can’t let us get on the way of our mission…”

You nodded and pressed your lips on his once more. “I understand…” you mumbled, lips locking with his.

-.-.-

After the battle of Gondor, you looked everywhere for Legolas. You found him sitting as pippin bandaged a wound on his arm. You sighed with relief and ran to him. “You’re alive!” You shouted as pippin finished bandaging Legolas’ wound.

He smiled and opened his arms for you to run into his embrace which you did in front of the whole fellowship.

“I told you I would return to you did I not?”

You didn’t respond as you pressed your lips on his.

You could tell he was a bit shocked that you decided to do this in front of everyone but he still kissed you back, his arms wrapped loosely around your waist.

“Wait a second!” Gimli shouted. “How long have you to been a thing?!?”

(I will do a longer one when I don’t have so manny to do at once).

#legolas x reader #legolas #legolas x you #lotr #lord of the rings #Kat651

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itsonlydana · 2 months

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"passenger princess" | chapter one

the hobbit | a modern!AU by itsonlydana

❱ pairing: Thranduil x fem!reader

❱ wordcount: 2,9k

❱ summary: the chaotic mess of playing monopoly drunk with your best friends

❱ warnings: alcohol

❱ an: the first chapter.. excited for you to read this! This has been heavily edited from my ao3 post soo have fun <3

general m.list + series m.list

🌿 reposts and comments are appreciated, they motivate me a lot - especially with longer projects <3

CHAPTER ONE: MONOPOLY

"Oh, would you look at that; you landed on my street. Again."

"What? No fucking way."

"Legolas"

"Gimli"

"Blondie, if I don't see my money in ten seconds I'm cutting your hair while you have your beauty sleep."

"No, you wouldn't dare!"

Across from Legolas, Gimli just flashed him a toothy grin, so wide and full of mischief, before leaning over the multitude of cards in front of him with a challenging tip of his head.

"Try me."

"Fine." Legolas drummed his fingers on the table, breaking the staring contest and waving it off like it had never bothered him. "Don't drag it out any further, Gimli, tell me what I owe you, and let me go my way."

For a moment Gimli pretended he had to look for them, but everyone at the table had noticed how his fingers had twitched for the green card as soon as Legolas had rolled the dice.

"You ended up on Oxford Street, which normally would've only cost you $26, but since I have not one, not two, but three houses, you now owe me a wonderful 900!"

And as in previous rounds, Legolas now quite unemotionally pulled two orange paper bills from his carefully sorted, rather tall, stack and received an already slightly worn 100 in exchange, which he accepted with a bitter grumble.

This exchange had happened so many times this evening that you now only rolled your eyes with a smile at the banter, sipping on your bottle of beer to avoid being drawn into the discussion in the first place.

The rivalry between Legolas and Gimli, playful in its purest form and with not an ounce of real bad blood, had become a permanent part of your life after you befriended the two of them.

Although it had slightly thrown you off at first how they went from harmless conversation to competition in seconds, you couldn't imagine your life without it.

In such a fast-paced modern world as this, you sometimes found it hard to hold on to friendships and avoid losing your grip in the swift whirl of time; in the case of many friendships that were strong at the time, you couldn't even remember if there had been a real goodbye, or if they had simply... disappeared - left behind or run ahead, who knew?

With Legolas and Gimli, however, it was different.

You met both of them on the first day of college, had run into both of them, literally, when you tried to get to your first class on time.

A class with a professor you'd only heard bad things about Visitor's Day. The hushed whispers of scared students, their eyes telling you more than what they actually dared to say on campus.

You were close to being punctual, wouldn't it have been for Legolas and Gimli. The duo stood in front of the closed lecture door, simply staring through the tiny window and looking like they would rather perish than actually open it.

Their looks of fear mirrored yours and it was clear that all three of you had heard the stories of students getting their heads ripped of by Professor Sauron. That man had strong feelings about tardiness– and it was only your first day.

You of course rushed to apologize, babbling that you hadn't seen Gimli, and no, it wasn't because of his size but rather due to your lack of attention, and please could they stay on your side when you go into the hell of public humiliation?

By some wonder the Professor had his back turned to the auditorium to fill the blackboard with the required reading list, as you snuck along the stairs and miraculously dropped into the last three empty seats without getting caught.

And when you had breathed a sigh of relief, the brunette who sat on your right passed you the attendance list he had kept with him a little while longer, as if he had suspected that someone else would be late.

That's how you met Aragorn. The ruggedly handsome brunette added to your trio and was conveniently organized enough to lend you and Gimli a pen for the first week.

From day one, you formed an inseparable unit, whether on campus, in the numerous bars you frequented, or in the parks where you often spent your free time - rarely were any of you seen without the others and you would never hear the others utter one single bad word about the other.

You practically did everything together, from classes, many of which you shared – often to the annoyance of professors and fellow students due to the vibrant and occasionally noisy atmosphere you created– to lunches lounging under the campus's shady trees, with Aragorn reading poems from his literature class, and you occupied with braiding Gimli's long-grown beard while Legolas dozed in the longing stares of bypassers, gossiping and flirting.

On weekdays before exams, you either barricaded yourselves in your tiny dorm room, for it was the closest to the library, quizzing each other up and down the subjects, writing flashcards, most of which you wrote, to give to Legolas and Gimli afterward, and after exams, you forced your way into bar after bar, leaving your marks in benches and stools, squeezing into cramped photo booths in brightly lit clubs.

The first trimester passed swiftly, much like the initial semesters of the second, which you were presently struggling to handle.

It was the college life that everyone probably dreamed of, that every movie romanticized, and even you sometimes couldn't believe how perfect everything was.

Certainly, not every exam resulted in a perfect score and not every day was adorned with rose-colored glasses of happiness perched on your nose.

Yet, be it a poorly performed test, a date lacking sparks, or a random low point, your boys stood steadfastly by your side, offering unwavering support.

Today was no different.

The day had started with you waking to the sun and not your alarm clock and getting your ass handed by Professor Sauron.

It continued with some pretty demotivating feedback on an essay you'd worked many late nights by your Herbology Professor Baggins.

He did offer you a pat on the back that probably meant to cheer you up but felt condescending considering the amount of red ink staining the essay you'd crumbled in sweaty hands.

Adding that to Professor Sauron's embarrassment of you in front of the entire class sank your already low spirits to the basement.

Not even Aragorn's consoling hand, which remained steadfastly by your side throughout the day, guiding you from one class to the next, mumbling soft words and trying to cheer you up with soft kisses to your forehead, could lift you out of this emotional abyss.

How you survived that day was a mystery but after eight hours of you pouring out bad energy like radioactive waves, Legolas must've had enough of your moping and the grim expressions you fired at anyone who shouldered you in the hallway.

With a determined, "We're going to my place," the blonde had put his pep talk plan consisting of a trip to the liquor section of the supermarket and an order from the delivery guy into action.

It was this very plan that had gotten you into your current situation.

Slightly drunk at the kitchen table of the House of Oropherion.

A Monopoly board in front of your nose, around it several empty beer bottles. Pizza boxes scattered on the countertops and bags of all sorts of sweet stuff that Legolas had sweepingly pushed from the shelves into the shopping cart, blowing pink bubble gum bubbles.

The guy seriously had a snack-problem and a spending habit that surely made for a good intervention.

Within a few hours, you had turned the otherwise pristine and tidy kitchen into a battlefield that looked a lot like the one in your dorm.

Whereas the one in the dorm was used by twenty young women and many of their partners, and this one just by four.

Just as in the dorm, loud laughter echoed through the entire house, accompanied by your shared playlist.

Legolas had set it playing on the expensive stereo while preparing his snack bowl.

It was a chaotic mix, Legolas pop music, Gimlis folk metal and Aragorns indie rock while you sprinkled in a few classical songs or added whatever else was missing.

Quietly, you hummed along to the hottest chart song of this summer.

Your spirits had risen by now, thanks to your best friends, even if it did look like they were about to go for each other's throats over a denied exchange of a road.

"My Lady," Aragorn interrupted the rising argument between Legolas and Gimli and held out his hand with the dice to you, "Please stop this madness and continue the round so we can finish this eventually.. hopefully today"

Grinning, you accepted the dice, "I will do my best, my lord," while Gimli muttered into his beard, "Not my fault Barbie isn't giving me what's rightfully mine."

As expected, the idiots fell silent as soon as you gave the dice a quick shake in your closed hands and then tossed them across the table with a clatter.

Of course, in the face of eventual earnings, everyone immediately calculated where you would end up and who might rip off what little money was left in front of you.

Two threes.

And everyone groaned in annoyance.

Only you grinned as you dragged your silver dog figure across the Park Lane and Mayfair field decorated with a few of Legolas hotels, right over GO and landed on your own field.

Another round where you survived on the 200 notes from pulling over GO, anxious not to land on one of the hotel fields from the others.

Because, unlike the others, greedy little hoarders who acquired your properties, swindling you with meager donations, you possessed only the two modest brown streets, yielding little profit.

With each move of yours, the others hoped you would finally end up on one of their plots and finally be eliminated, but as if fate would have it, you seemed to be avoiding it just fine.

"And she lives another round," Aragorn raised his beer bottle in your direction and winked "Any bets on how many more you'll survive?"

You snorted as you shook the dice in your hand again. "You're not getting rid of me that fast."

The dice clattered across the board, two ones and loud rumbling from the boys, you moved to the community chest square laughing.

Reaching across the board, you grabbed the top card of the cards and dramatically pulled it up to your chest.

To your left, Legolas drummed his fingers impatiently on the table, and even though Aragorn has so far stayed away from the competition between Legolas and Gimli, he too now nodded his chin questioningly at the card.

At an almost agonizingly slow pace, you turned it over, keeping eye contact with your boys for a while, though, before looking down, skimming the printed text, and laughing out loud.

"What does it say?" Legolas inquired, trying to lean toward you, dark eyebrows raised questioningly.

"Geez, tell me it's a bad card."

"You can decide that for yourself, Gimli," chuckling, you held out your card in such a way that the three of them almost bumped heads, so fast were they bending to the center.

"You've got to be kidding me," Aragorn slumped back in his chair with a moan, and Gimli slammed his hands flat on his thighs, cursing a string of words that in their pure filthy form would make anyone else blush.

You were only spurred on by them, and laughter burst out of you, loud and full of glee.

"I'd like a hundred from each of you right now, it's my birthday after all," you smirked, holding out your hand.

Aragorn was the first to put a bill on it, and even Gimli, though he stressed that he would get it back before you ran out of laughter, handed over something from his well-guarded account.

"Laaas, what am I waiting for? A birthday song?" you asked.

Legolas raised a perfect eyebrow and slid you a bill looking so bored that you almost bought it, "You can wait a long time for a song."

"For the chance to hear your voice dedicate a song to me, I'd wait a thousand years," you sang, winking with a sugary smile on your lips.

"Or I'd just watch the recordings from last night's karaoke, I'd even get a love song from you as a gift," dramatically you grabbed your chest with both hands and threw your head back

"And wouldn't that be oh so romantic?"

"Please," he scoffed, "If I'd really tried you'd be on your knees in seconds. Babe, I have charm."

For a moment you manage to pulled yourself together, looking into Legolas' eyes, holding his challenging gaze from which you didn't know to interpret if he truly believed his statements himself.

Then you heard Gimli's dirty laugh.

The redhead hands hit the table so hard that several of the hotels flew in all directions, and with them your composure.

With a rather unfeminine snort, you threw yourself backward in your chair, your head craned back and your arms folded in front of your stomach; there was no saving you from the laughter that bubbled out of you like hot water on a stove.

"Your charm?" you gasped, trying to blink away the tears in your eyes.

Unsuccessfully, because when you saw Legolas stand up indignantly and toss his blond hair over his shoulder, the tears flew unstoppably down your cheeks.

Sure, you were aware of what a charming man Legolas could be; you were teasing, not blind.

It took nothing to perceive him for what he was, and that was a flawless beauty. That angelic face, long blond-gold hair flowing over his shoulder, and eyes ever so gentle, marked him a natural beauty and unfortunately, you couldn't deny that what came out of his mouth most of the time made most men and women's hearts swell.

You were friends with him, though, and the idea of being even remotely touched by his charm made you laugh beyond control.

And you heard all the bullshit the guy yapped about when there was no one around he wanted to impress.

"What?" Legolas asked, and in his voice, a challenge that, voiced by the beer, didn't bode well, "I don't want to sound too arrogant" –snickering from the three of you– "go fuck yourselves, I'm charming! I'm sure, oh I bet, that you would fall for it!"

And before you would have objected much, he took a big swig from his bottle and slid down from his chair.

Right in front of you.

Onto his knees.

It was the look of firm conviction in his eyes, the way he reached for your hand and gently held it like it was made of cracked glass against his chest, that made your laughter turn into a silly giggle.

Legolas, even though he was swaying a bit and his words were no longer flowing too loosely from his tongue, was a sight you wouldn't any time soon. "My darling friend, whose attention I do not deserve–"

"Now that's what I call true words," grunted Gimli, who had also leaned back in the meantime and received a punishing look from Legolas before the blond turned back to you.

"–whose attention I don't deserve and that yet has me blossoming, like the first flowers reaching out to the sun, for you are the light in my life. Everything that connects us tugs at my heart, it cries out for more and I'm afraid I can no longer remain silent about my feelings"

Ironically, at that very moment, he paused, seemed lost in thought and stroked the back of your hand with his thumb.

Not that it helped him really.

But you waited patiently nonetheless, letting Legolas continue to play the role of the poet.

He looked back at you from the far distance in which his gaze had become playfully entangled, and you saw the twitch of his lips, the sign of a cheeky grin he tried to keep down.

It didn't matter what words made him fight the grin, though, Legolas didn't get to say them.

Thanks to the music, which had faded into the background but still sounded through the sound system, as well as your group's silly fooling around and never-ending laughter, you hadn't heard the front door unlock, or the footsteps in the hallway.

It wasn't until an amused-sounding "Oh, am I interrupting?" rang out in a very familiar voice behind you that you became aware of the new presence in the room.

Immediately, the hairs on the back of your neck stood up, the deep voice rolling over your entire body like sweet honey.

You heard Aragorn laugh, a murmured, "You've lost your girl, Las," and the blonde in front of you groaned as he struggled to his feet.

"Great, wow, I was literally so close to getting her around. Thank you so much, Ada," Legolas scoffed.

You followed his gaze, eyes falling onto the man casually leaning against the kitchen counter.

And your heart jumped inside your chest.

taglist: @mushroomemeralds @mssuguru @solartoge

#thranduil x reader #thranduil x you #thranduil fanfiction #lotr x reader #the hobbit fanfiction #the hobbit x reader #lord of the rings fanfiction #lord of the rings x reader #lotr fanfiction #📁files: passenger princess

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shirefantasies · 5 months

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How the Fellowship Act Around Their Crush (GN!Reader)

Hello friends! Kicking off my blog with some cute headcanons for my favorite people- hope you enjoy 😄

Aragorn

✧ One of the least obvious for sure 😅 we love a strong silent type but unfortunately that means you’ll have to be reading in on his actions

✧ Checks in on you a lot, just making sure you’re feeling alright and not hiding any burdens because he wants to carry those.

✧ Teaches you all he knows about the world’s botany when he notices your curiosity, pointing out what plants are poisonous, which the elves use for healing, and which can be made into tea. Snags a few to make you said tea at the earliest convenience 😌

✧ Will be the one to drape his cloak over you if you get cold. Not the type to stop others from doing it, but boy will he be the fastest by far!

✧ Has the habit of letting his fingers linger over yours just a bit longer than necessary when he hands things off to you or presses small items into your hands.

✧ Is the best with his words. He’ll reassure you if you feel insecure that you have a strength and beauty you bring to this world that no one else does, that the time you are in does not define you as a whole, that all have roles to play here.

Legolas

✧ Least obvious part 2! Another who is more silent about things…at least at first! If you understand Elvish, you may catch him searching for advice from Aragorn on if he should speak of it or not.

✧ Almost always defers to your word/opinion whether it’s where to stop or simply how you’d like to spend the rest of the evening.

✧ Shows off just a smidge 🤏🏻 when he knows you’re looking, like no, he doesn’t have to impale three orcs with the same arrow three different ways but did you think it was cool? Then yes he did. Still his face colors with surprised, joy, and amusement when you react with awe.

✧ “Wow, beautiful,” you breathe as your eyes scan the stars, glittering constellations and distant galaxies winking above you. “Indeed,” Legolas responds softly, but if you happen to peer at him from the peripheries of your vision at just the right time you’ll see the glance he surreptitiously slides to you.

✧ Holds open every door for you, slides back every chair, serves you at every meal, like this prince is peak gentleman and nothing less!

✧ Whispers joking observations about the rest of the fellowship, especially Gimli, that he usually keeps to himself into your ear as you sit together during mealtimes. This creates a whole slew of inside jokes between you two and much confusion over what you could possibly be laughing at.

Boromir

✧ Not over-the-top, but he figures what’s the point if you never figure anything out? Definitely wants to drop hints for you 😌

✧ Places a kiss to the back of your hand when he first meets you, telling you it is truly an honor.

✧ “Here, allow me,” he’ll say as he gently takes whatever burden you bear whether it’s bundles of firewood or even your bag on a particular rough day of travel.

✧ Happily shares tales of Gondor’s splendor with you and insists he’ll take you there and show you himself someday. Asks in turn for stories of your home and all your favorite things about it. Even if he can never visit, Boromir is determined to find a way to bring a piece of your home to you someday- anything to make you feel like you’re there again.

✧ Offers you his arm when you two walk side-by-side, guiding you with a firm, warm grip that keeps you feeling secure.

✧ Always places himself between you and danger, stepping in front of you with his sword and shield in hands and even shifting you back with a hand upon your waist.

Gimli

✧ You’re going to figure it out pretty quickly. He’e comically vocal as we all know, but also incredibly smooth when he wants to be…and boy does he want to be 👀

✧ Drops a lot of hints about how dwarves are the warmest, heartiest lovers and best providing partners! “We’ve the grandest of halls and sturdiest of bodies, after all!”

✧ Literally always has your back, like he is more aware of any threats to you than you are. It’s nearly impossible to count how many times he’s slashed an orc you hadn’t even seen off your back, giving you a triumphant nod and an “Anytime, Lassie/Laddie!”

✧ Laughs at every single joke you tell so hard you can’t help but puff up in pride at your sense of humor, nudging your shoulder with his.

✧ “Oh, stay still, you’ve got something in your hair…” Proceeds to remove it in the most tender and intimate manner you’ve ever experienced.

✧ Asks you to look him in the eyes before a big fight because, in his words, if that’s the last thing he looks upon before going out it’ll all be worth it.

Frodo

✧ Has no idea what he is doing honestly. Has never felt this way before and wasn’t sure if he ever would, so his demeanor around you suddenly becomes shy, almost withdrawn.

✧ Your self-appointed nurse. Tends your wounds silently but with the most caring, gentle touch and gaze fluttering back and forth between your wound and your expression with those big blue eyes.

✧ Goes on walks every now and again when everybody’s camped. After a while of seeing you watch him off, Frodo plucks up the courage to invite you to join him on one.

✧ Embarrassed as he is at first, he is encouraged by your eager eyes when you ask what he’s reading, shyly admitting it’s some poetry he loves. Ends up reciting you the whole thing, looking into your eyes intently as he wishes to actually be confessing each of those flowery words.

✧ Grabs your hand to lead you places whenever he finds something you just have to see! Blushes about it after the fact but in the moment the excitement just takes over him and he doesn’t even think about it.

✧ Begins sharing concerns and deeper thoughts with you once he trusts you as a sort of sign of that feeling. He hopes you understand that he doesn’t disclose to just anyone.

Sam

✧ He wants to talk to you so bad, but also you’re the most gorgeous person he’s ever seen and how does he do that??? So sweet and attentive with his gaze when you do talk, so that could clue you in.

✧ He definitely gives you the biggest and best of anything he prepares, smiling softly at you as he dishes it up!

✧ Offers to tell you stories of The Shire, especially if you’ve never visited it yourself, and you can see the love for it in his eyes as much as you can hear it in his voice. Shares a few about his old Gaffer, too!

✧ Trips over his words from time to time. He’ll accidentally say the wrong thing and nervously try to laugh it off not realizing how adorable he looks when he blushes ☺️

✧ Sees a pretty flower on the road and immediately thinks of you, plucking it up and twirling it thoughtfully before extending it your way gently, naming his discovery as he does so.

✧ Would give you the shirt off his back if you wanted or needed. Offers you things from his bags a lot ranging from supplies that can ease your passage on this trip to the last of the sweets from The Shire he’d thrown in his pack pockets. Any task you don’t want to do Sam is jumping up to do for you!

Merry

✧ Medium obvious because he makes it his mission to get close to you and hype you up. If you’re oblivious or cynical it could be mistaken as him just being friendly, but it can’t come as a shock the way he’s so eager for your presence!

✧ Acts like you being amazing at things you’ve never even done is a foregone conclusion, like it could be your first time firing with a bow and he’ll be telling everyone what a natural you’ll be, urging you to go on and show them!

✧ Faintly embodies the old adage ‘if they tease you, that means they like you’. He sometimes makes up stories to see if you believe him, chuckling merrily when you do but quickly giving up the ghost again so you don’t have the wrong idea. Others he’ll just poke fun at things you say and egg all of your jokes on, too!

✧ Winks at you on the off time you two make eye contact with each other.

✧ Holds out his hand to you and gives a small bow every time he invites you to dance, asking if he may have it with a devilishly charming grin before he pulls you close.

✧ Whisks you away when he wants you to himself, taking you on a sightseeing adventure or even just foraging. Turns it into an over-the-top skit of him searching and protecting you from the threats of the forest that has you giggling!

Pippin

✧ Oh, you’ll be able to tell! He tries his best to be smooth and is super complimentary and generally wants to be around you 25/8. Even if it comes across goofy, you have to give him props for being forward with his intentions 😌

✧ Practically jumps out of his seat to be the one to help you with anything, whether it’s going fishing, gathering berries or firewood, getting some training in…you name it, he wants to be there for you if you need him!

✧ You may catch him staring at you, whether it’s in awe of your beauty or just straight-up checking you out depends on his mood, but his eyes are almost always flicking back to you in idleness.

✧ Remembers every single detail you share about yourself, like EVERY SINGLE ONE. Knows all your preferences by heart and frequently suggests playing your favorite game or offering to sing your favorite song, likely with an invitation to dance too! Pippin will chime in about your dislikes or allergies before even you can.

✧ Casually begins breaking touch barriers with small gestures like putting a hand on your shoulder during a mock apology for his cousin’s behavior or sitting with your arms brushing. If you don’t seem to mind, he’ll get bolder, slinging an arm over your shoulders during a jolly moment!

✧ Not afraid of compliments, definitely not! Unabashedly (well, mostly anyway, he hides a blush well) tells you that color looks great on you or what a pretty face you’ve got just in casual conversation.

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