#aragorn drabble

[miseries-mistress]

FIDELITY | ARAGON

Synopsis: The burden of sleep weighs heavily on your body and consciousness while you and Aragorn are forced to attend a banquet after a long day of riding. The only thing that makes any of this bearable is the company of each other, lost in your moment of careless whispers. 

Warnings: gender-neutral reader, kinda angst ig, but also fluff???, i know this didn't actually happen before the battle in rohan, but this is fanfiction, so who cares, no spoilers. W/C: 872

Notes: This is just a little drabble while i work on actual oneshots. also, i do plan on getting to my requests; it's just taking me a lot longer than i imagined. (thank you guys so much for 200 followers, ily)

lotr masterlist

The smoke of pipeweed drifted from the slight draft, curling upwards before dissipating into the stale air. Laughter rang out; chatter boomed as the distant language of lovers remained a faint whisper, hidden behind the shadow of feelings. As each moment passed and the night grew bitter, the people grew weary, their bellies full of brew and rich food. However, you and Aragorn remained silently seated, your plates barely touched while others danced and sang with fat smiles blistering their faces. 

He inhaled and exhaled, the pipe loosely caught between his forefinger and thumb, his fitted shirt clinging to his biceps while he rolled up the rest of the sleeves to his elbows, exposing the artwork of veins spiraling down his arm. His posture is loose, an arm lazily propped up while the other is slung over the polished wood, an almost foreign demeanor from the battle-hardened man you are used to witnessing.

Words evade you as you admire the details of his figure, watching his face for any hint of emotion to pick at and dissect, knowing far too well his reluctance to share his woes with you. 

It's not only him that is dispirited but you as well, for you are too weary to care about much else. The two of you had battled orcs and traveled across roves of land to scout, all while you prepared Rohan for something much more fierce than anything they had ever encountered. 

Both of you are beyond drained, reduced to silently basking in the presence of one another for the brief time you get to indulge in the simplicity of understanding before you must part ways. Secrecy is of the highest importance, for rumors would drag a freshly sharpened blade through your bond, which runs more profound than any mere friendship. He's a future king, and you are a hopeless romantic with a dream. 

Your head comes to rest on his shoulder, and the heaviness in your eyes, threatening to pull you under is like fighting an uphill battle. Each moment you strain to stay awake, but the pressure that settles over you is too great to ignore. As each moment passes into eternity, and you fall further into the creamy fabric of his freshly washed clothes, the smell of musk integrated with the woodlands wafts to your nose, and with each breath fall, you can't help but inhale more of his homely aroma. 

Aragorn moves his arm to settle around your waist, simultaneously pulling you into a more comfortable position by his side. Your eyes betray you by fluttering closed as you melt into the tenderness in which he holds you. 

The chatter is white noise, and his chest's steady rise and decline is your guide to the pitfalls of sleep that claim your dreary form. 

Aragorn cannot help but let his eyes wander to your stature as he grimaces. In the next hour, he would have to sneak away from the festivities with you in his arms, tucking you into your makeshift bed, only to mesmerize your face as if it would be the last time he would ever see it before leaving. Aragorn would then carry on with the charade that every waking moment he didn't spend at your side was not pure agony, ripping his soul into bloody, gruesome shreds over his yearning to be near you once more. He was resigned to being a mere bystander as you unwittingly devastate his stone heart over the laughter you share with other men- men who could provide you with the life you merit. 

It's a cruel game that fate is playing with his heart, and he tries to remain impassive to his internal struggle every time he can whisk you away from prying eyes, but he's cracking under the weight of his own facade. He can tell by the way your eyes carry a concern for his sake that you know of something of that which troubles him, but he can't bear to place that burden onto you. After all, there's nothing either of you could do to ease the pain. 

Aragorn brushes the hair straying into your eyes, letting his irises wander a moment longer before tearing them away. His heart longs to keep you for a moment longer, but his mind insists he takes his leave and ends your moment of tranquility, but by fault, he is a selfish man. Despite all of the caution both of you heed, his worries seem to fall away like rainwater off a building, and the consequences of indulgence become too enticing to ignore. His rational mind, just for a second, gives way to senseless logic. 

Aragorn's hand stutters for a moment before falling to your head, stroking down your hair in the cover of the shadows far from the senses of anyone who might bear witness to his devotion to someone who deserves more than he could ever offer, no matter what his blood might claim. His hand pulls your hair back, only to place the barest of kisses upon the crown of your head, not enough to disturb you but enough to offer him a second of solace before your inevitable separation.

"Losto mae, meleth nin."

(translates: sleep well, my love.)

#aragorn x reader #aragorn x you #aragorn x y/n #aragorn #the lord of the rings #lord of the rings #the fellowship of the ring #aragorn drabble #lotr #lotr fanfic #lotr aragorn #little angst #x reader #gender neutral reader #lotr movies #lord of the rings fic #lord of the rings aragorn #reader insert #lotr drabble #middle earth

[dynamicdiplomacy]

Celebrían left for Aman well before Aragorn was ever born and long before Arwen ever made the Choice of Mortality.

Imagine Elrond, stepping off the ship from Middle Earth, delighted to see his wife again. They embrace, enough tears falling to drown their sorrow beneath their joy.

Once they have returned to the home she has built for her family, she asks him please, please tell me about my children, tell me of all the wondrous things they have done.

So he tells her about Elladan and Elrohir, their part in the War, their dedication to the Rangers, the kind elves they have grown to become.

When their conversation turns to Arwen, he speaks of little Estel, the boy they had taken into their home, the love that had grown between them, the world they had created for each other. Then he pauses and reaches into the wooden trunk he has brought from Rivendell.

There is a portrait, the paint still bright and vivid, of a dark-haired man with a kind gaze and a crown of silver. Beside him, Arwen stands with an ornate circlet resting on her brow. Both of their faces are aglow with happiness, lips curled with mirth.

Between them is a young boy with silver eyes that look so much like Elrond's and she knows the words that he is about to say.

But knowing does not make them ache any less.

She is not coming, Celebrían. She is not coming and I am sorry.

It seemed their family was always doomed to have one soul sundered from the others.

Eärendil from Elwing, Elros from Elrond, Celebrían from her children, Arwen from her family.

Crumpled into her husband's arms, she has only one question:

Is she happy?

Elrond smiles faintly and runs a gentle hand over her silver hair.

Oh my darling, they are in bliss. They remind me of you and I so long ago. In love so deep that not even Ulmo could pull them from its waters.

She sighs and presses a kiss to his neck, perhaps we could find that love between us again. It has been hidden for too long.

His soft laugh, tingled by bittersweet memories, makes her own heart soar.

Two pairs of lovers, separated by an ocean and time, each begin a new life together.

#lotr #lotr fic #fic #elrond #celebrian #lord of the rings #aragorn #arwen #my writing #elladan #elrohir #lotr drabble #tolkien

[deadlymistletoe]

A Series Of Kisses

Pairing: Aragorn x F!reader

Genre: Romance

Description: A series of kisses leading up to your wedding night.

Warnings: None

Word count: 438

A/N: This is just a short drabble to get me back into writing after being sick. It’s a bit different from how I usually write, and might not be completely in character, but here it is.

The first time he kissed you was at a celebration thrown for one of his birthdays at Rivendell. Both of you had been at least a little bit tipsy. No words were spoken about it after.

The second time he kissed you was when you woke up from a three day long fever coma of sorts you’d fallen into when a bad wound got infected. You’re still not sure if it actually happened, or if it was a delusion crafted by your fever induced mind. If it did happen, you chalked it up to his relief that you’d woken up. Again, no words were spoken of it. You were too scared to ask, not willing to admit that your mind may have subconsciously tapped into your feelings for the man if it hadn’t happened and he didn’t feel the same, and he offered no confirmation on the matter.

The third time he kissed you was over a year later, outside the destroyed gates of Mordor as you celebrated the end of the War Of The Ring and the homecoming of Frodo and Sam. Blood and dirt had stained you both, but the moment was passionate, and the embrace could not be mistaken for nothing. Still, in the flurry that came after in recovery and preparation for Aragorn’s coronation neither of you had time to explore what the kiss may have meant. Instead, you put it down to the relief and heat of the moment, and tried not to dwell on it.

The fourth time he kissed you it was different. He joined you on the balcony outside the coronation ceremony after you stepped outside for some fresh air, but this time, nothing could be chalked down or excused as a drunken mistake or the heat of the moment. This time, the kiss expressed the feelings that had been building in the both of you for so long. This time, words were spoken as long resisted feelings and intentions were shared, this time in a way that would change your relationship for the better.

More kisses were shared throughout your courting, pecks on cheeks, stolen kisses behind pillars, and most importantly the kiss that sealed your relationship and freshly spoken vows as you stood in front of your closest friends, rings that held promises on the ring fingers of your linked hands.

When you’d shared that first, drunk, kiss, you’d had no idea that one day you’d be kissing that same man in your shared bed on your wedding night, whispered affections being spoken between touches, but as it was, you were. And you were so glad for that.

Taglist:

@fizzyxcustard @bookworm-with-coffee

#imagines #lord of the rings #drabble #aragorn x reader #aragorn

[leighsartworks216]

Right on for wanting to write for LOTR! 🫶 In fact, how about #24 from the kisses prompt for Aragorn, where he and the reader have been crowned King and Queen of Gondor? Good luck!

24 - "We'll face this together" kisses

Aragorn x fem!Reader

My first ever Aragorn fic! Really really short but sweet

Warnings: anxiety

Word Count: 258

Kiss Prompts

Main Masterlist

AO3

Tag List Form

You'd fought wars, faced down hordes of orc and Uruk-Hai, stood up against certain death and come out the victor. And yet, nothing could hold a candle to this.

The crowd, full of friends and strangers alike, stared up at you. It was as though Sauron's eye was upon you, burning you alive from inside your head. You were not suited to this. Arwen had always carried a torch for Aragorn, she would be a much better queen to these people than you could ever hope to be. Eowyn, too, but she had found love with Faramir. Perhaps Gandalf knew someone who could-

A hand, donned in fancy rings but no less calloused, held yours. You look to your side and find Aragorn smiling at you, a bit too knowingly.

He lifted your hand to his lips, eyes never leaving yours as he placed a delicate kiss to the back of your hand. You found the surface of the ocean of fear that drowned you, and at last you felt you could breathe again.

His eyes flit over you, reading every telltale sign that you were okay. He grinned and placed another kiss over the first as he saw your shoulders relax. Satisfied he had calmed down his closest friend and dearest heart, he turned back to the crowd and guided you down the steps to greet your friends and the brave souls of Minas Tirith. Their eyes still burned into you, and perhaps they always would, but you would not have to face the crowd alone. Never.

---

Tag List:

@furblrwurblr @puppyg1rl666

#request #requested #fanfic #fanfiction #aragorn #aragorn x reader #lotr #lord of the rings #lotr x reader #x reader #x female reader #x fem reader #fluff #drabble

[babe-bombadil]

Don't Look a Gift Horse in the Mouth

(Part 1)

Summary: What happens when Éomer gifts some flying horses to Fellowship?

Written for the 2023 @fall-for-tolkien event! Inspired by Fly, You Fools! by @scyllas-revenge

Rating: G

Word Count: 527

Read on AO3 or below

It was said that every race had a gift. The elves had immortality. The dwarves had their expertise in stone working. The hobbits had a love for the simple things in life. The Rohirrim had flying horses. 

To them, a horse wasn’t just a means of transportation, it was something that should be revered. Horses were treated with great respect and given meticulous care. The Rohirrim believed horses were central to a person’s wellbeing the same way sleep and time in the sunshine are.

Because of their reverence for the horses, they would not trade a single one, not even to their allies in Gondor. This often made the people of Rohan seem haughty to their neighbors, but they would not change.

This was why it was such a momentous occasion when Éomer gifted horses to the four hunters when seeing their need in the outskirts of Fangorn.

“Absolutely not!” Gimli roared. Aragorn sighed and dragged a hand over his face.

“Gimli, this is an extremely generous gift. We need to use it. I have experience with the winged horses of Rohan and I promise they are not as hazardous as they look.”

Gimli crossed his arms and hardened his glare. “We dwarves were made to live underground! We like to keep our feet on the earth, thank you very much! Regular foul horses are bad enough but you will never get me on one of those-”

“You can ride with me, Gimli!” Legolas offered, cutting in before the dwarf could insult Rohan’s pride. The Riders of Rohan had stiffed as Gimli had been talking and the elf wished to avoid a fight. Gimli, unaware of the disaster nearly avoided, looked up with annoyance to where Legolas sat bareback on his horse. The elves didn’t use such things as saddles, so Legolas had taken it off before he jumped nimbly onto the horse’s back.

“I do not wish for an early death, so I shall have to refuse,” Gimli huffed.

“My friend, we need to take these horses to find Pippin and Merry,” Boromir pleaded. “You can join me and we shall discover how to ride these curious horses together.”

The dwarf sucked in a long breath through his nostrils before releasing it with a sigh. “Very well, Boromir. I shall bear this so that we might rescue the halflings.”

Boromir smiled in return. However, as it had since Amon Hen, the smile did not reach his eyes. Gimli and Legolas believed it was simply worry for the hobbits that was weighing their friend down and if Aragorn suspected there was more on Boromir’s mind, he kept it to himself.

Boromir knelt on one knee and offered his clasped hands as a step. Gimli placed his foot in the handhold and was lifted up to the horse. Boromir swung on after him rather clumsily, unused to the large wings of the creature. Once they were all settled, Aragorn placed a hand on his chest and bowed his head to Éomer.

“We are in your debt. I hope our paths shall soon cross again.”

Éomer copied the action. “I wish you success on your errand. Fly swiftly, Wingfoot!”

Part 2 coming soon!

Comments and reblogs are what I survive on so let me know your thoughts and/or personal headcanons!

#boromir lives au #lord of the rings #boromir #lotr #tolkien #legolas #aragorn #gimli son of gloin #eomer of rohan #rohirrim #flying horses #aragorn is a horse girl #scribbles & drabbles 2023 #aragorn elessar #boromir son of denethor #legolas greenleaf

[frodo-with-glasses]

fight and chocolate? thanks!

I wrote a little something for the word “fight” here, so let’s talk about chocolate!

Unfortunately, my nerdery is actually putting the kabosh on my fun this time, because I know for a fact there’s no way chocolate exists in Middle Earth. In the real world, cocoa trees originate from the Amazon Rainforest in South America, and only came to the attention of Europeans thanks to the Spanish conquistadors. This is important because Tolkien meant for his histories of Middle Earth to be a sort of mythology for England; which means the story takes place in some vague pre-historic era centuries (or even millennia!) before cocoa ever gets across the ocean.

Even putting aside the history angle, there’s no getting around the fact that the cocoa tree is a tropical plant, and that the climate of Middle Earth is decidedly temperate. This thing only grows in hot, wet areas near the equator. Middle Earth is Not That. Even the southernmost regions of Gondor get cold in the winter. It is not the right conditions for growing cocoa trees.

So as much as I would love to write a fic of little hobbit children tumbling indoors after hours of playing under a grey winter sky, puffing and stamping and peeling off layers of coats and gloves and shaking the snow from their hair, and warming their chilly fingers and red noses and little bellies with delicious cups of hot cocoa, alas, ‘tis not to be.

But.

If you play a little hard and fast with the historicity of this thing, there is a way you can get cocoa into Middle Earth. In modern times, cocoa trees aren’t just cultivated in South/Central America, but also in other tropical places worldwide, such as West Africa and Indonesia. Tolkien does account for the other sectors of the Eurasian continent in his worldbuilding: that’s what Rhun and Harad are for! SO. If you REALLY wanna get chocolate into Middle Earth, I suggest the following scenario.

The War of the Ring is over. Peacetime is well and truly in swing. King Elessar has kept himself very busy restoring Minas Tirith, creating much-needed infrastructure in the outlying territories, establishing trade relations, and dealing with the few remaining skirmishes on the borders.

This is around the time that an embassy comes from Far Harad, hoping to establish friendly relations with the conquering King of Gondor. They’ve heard about the decisive military victories that he won over their kinsfolk in Near Harad. (It’s whispered that he challenged Sauron himself.) They don’t think it wise to be this guy’s enemy. They’d rather be his friend. To sweeten the deal, they’ve brought gifts: a whole entourage of gold, jewels, spices, and some of the most curious and wonderful things from their part of the world.

There’s a bird that’s roughly the size of a falcon, but it is resplendent in blue and green and yellow, and at a sign from its handler it whistles and clicks and speaks like a person. There is an animal that looks like a small, skinny, hairy child with a tail, and its feet are like hands; they watch in awe as it climbs onto and off of the shoulder of its handler and plucks the hat off his head. There is a baby mumak; orphaned, they say, but they found her and cared for her. There are foods that make the mouth feel like it’s burning without heat, tastes more incredible than anything they could imagine.

And!

There is a reddish-brown drink in a cup.

The ambassador from Harad takes a sip of it first, to prove that it is not poisoned, and places the golden goblet into the hand of the king with a deep bow. The king thanks him with courteous words. He breathes in the aroma coming from the goblet; it is heady, earthy, and slightly sweet. He can only imagine that this is some sort of delicacy, a luxury of far-away kings. With all formalities out of the way, he raises the goblet to his lips.

The taste, when he takes a small sip, is extraordinary. There is sweetness, yes, but also bitterness, a powerful complexity of flavor. It takes him aback for a moment, and he’s not sure if he enjoys it, but now knowing what to expect, he tries again, and realizes that it is quite delicious.

He calls over the translator. “This drink,” he says, holding forth the goblet; “I like it. What is its name?”

And just like that, huzzah! You have chocolate in Middle Earth :-D

WORD ASK GAME!

#word ask game #aragorn #lord of the rings #lotr #my writing #much wikipedia-ing was done for this drabble #always bolster your useless trivia knowledge with ResearchTM

[periantari]

Under the mistletoe

All the signs of the mettare celebration were apparent in Minas Tirith: multi-colored lights, glass balls, wine glasses of different shapes and sizes were at the Winter Ball. Some unknown plant also hung on the ceiling.

Aragorn and Arwen were very glad to see them and were laughing as Faramir and Eowyn approached them.

“Do you know what the plant is?” Arwen asked softly.

“Why yes, it is mistletoe!” replied Eowyn with a laugh

“It is customary to kiss your true love,” said Aragorn with a smile of delight.

“Gladly would I do this,” and Faramir embraced and kissed her.

#lotr #fanfic #drabble #faramir #tolkien #lord of the rings #eowyn #aragorn #arwen undomiel

[i-did-not-mean-to]

Memories

Prompt: Memories

Characters: Aragorn x Arwen

Warnings: tiny dash of sadness

Aragorn watched his wife as she sat by the window, looking out on the wide-open landscape of their realm with a pensive smile.

“What are you musing about?” he asked, cupping her cheek lovingly.

“I am basking in memories,” she replied.

His heart clenched—the world around them had changed much since her youth, and he often wondered whether she regretted the days of past glory.

“I am sorry,” he whispered gently—her people were fading fast, and she must have felt alone.

“They’re memories yet to be made of miracles about to be revealed,” she smiled, patting her belly.

So, there goes a pairing I had not hitherto written.

Lots of love!

-> Masterlist(by @cilil)

#og post #December Drabbles #Fluff #IDNMT writes #fanfiction #writing #tolkien writing #jrrt #Aragorn #Arwen #Memories

[lilolilyr]

An Arawen drabble for @flufftober and Tolkientober day 24: prompts ‘melting’ + ‘kiss’

100 words written 5×4×5 style, T, no warnings

Summary: After many long nights of worries and war, the elf maiden is finally back in the arms of her human love.

~~~

It has been many months

since last she had touched

or even spoken to him,

Her love, the human king.

~

With the war over now

crown passed on to him

she is free to come

seek him out once again.

~

Having cried floods of tears,

then found her strength again

to keep watch over him

from afar, through her sight -

~

She is now deeply gratified

to see him here, alive

all injuries long since healed,

the strength of men returned.

~

His eyes widen in surprise

and joy, upon seeing her...

He draws her close, embraced

she melts into his touch.

~~~

#lilo writes #arawen #my lotr #flufftober 2023 #lotr #Lilo writes fanfic #drabble #my drabble #Lilo creates #fic header #my arawen #ao3 link #oct’23 #24.10.23 #Arwen #Aragorn #Arwen x Aragorn #my post #mine

[lord-westley]

Hi :) My favourite characters are Aragorn and Boromir, I typically smell like my salted caramel perfume and sweets bc I’m always baking them lol, thank you <3

Your scent reminds Aragorn of home. For years, he travelled middle-earth; away from the comforts of home and family. And now, anytime he comes home from a long day- you're there.

It reminds him of the days of peace, when the fellowship was resting in Rohan after the Battle of Helms Deep. Aragorn found you in the kitchens late at night, baking your heart away. The night the two of you shared your first kiss.

Your scent reminds Boromir of his childhood. The days of freedom, running around with his brother with laughter in the air, hiding sweets in their coats.

It makes him feel giddy. Holding you in his arms; pressing multiple kisses to your cheeks as you bake. Never failing to distract you. Sometimes leading to flour handprints being left on your behind as he kisses you passionately.

#Westley Writes #Scent Drabbles #Tolkien #the lord of the rings #lotr #lord of the rings x reader #lotr x reader #Aragorn #Aragorn x reader #Boromir #Boromir x Reader #The Hobbit #The Hobbit x Reader

[skittlesfics]

Elf! Reader being reunited with their lover, Aragorn. (Reader is Arwen's sibling.)

Finally getting around to some of the non-stranger things stuff in my queue. This definitely flexed some writing muscles that hadn't been used in a while, very fun. Aragorn x Reader - 573 Words - A Homecoming

- There was a sort of longing that could not be expressed in words.

Your people were long lived and long loved, with separations that could easily span the lifetime of a mortal Man, and yet the ache in your heart refused to subside at an absence less than half that.

You found yourself dreaming often of his dark gaze and calloused hands, the brown of his hair as he receded into darkness, always close enough to see, never close enough to touch.

In your waking hours, you spent your time weaving banners and tapestries to keep yourself busy, contributing to the war efforts in the only way your overprotective father would allow.

It was never enough. Thoughts of him filled all the empty spaces, trickling in only moments after the ache seemed to subside. A darkened room left space for questions. How much of his life were you missing with each year of the war stretching long between the two of you? What risks what he taking in his journey that you would not be there to mend?

You had lived his life-span many times, and a mere handful of years apart should have felt like moments. Without him, the pain existed out of time.

Nearly fifty years had passed since you had plighted your troth to the man on the other side of your door, and yet it took great effort to stand and take the few steps to answer his knock. The heartsickness had become so constant of a companion that you had forgotten that it could have an end, if it could have an end. The hearts of Men could be more fickle, and you knew that your rogue had met with your sister first.

You took a moment to compose yourself, pushing the jealous thought away before it could take root. It wasn’t fair to either of them, nor to yourself. You straightened your shoulders, lifted your chin, and pulled open the door.

Aragorn stood on the other side, dressed in a clean simple tunic. His hair was adorned with the trinkets indicating his impending status as a king, but beyond that he was simply Aragorn. Your Aragorn.

Your composure fell the moment he took a step forward, the time and distance between the two of you slipping away like it had been nothing. He put on no airs, no pretentions, wrapping you in his arms the same way he had all those years ago. You melted into his grasp, your head dropping onto his chest as your arms circled his shoulders. He pressed a kiss to the crown of your head, words escaping the both of you as you both took a moment to adjust. He was alive. He was here. He was with you.

You didn’t know that you were crying until Aragorn was leaning down to kiss the tears away, his hand coming to cup your face gently as if he might break you. Perhaps he could. The heartsickness had made you fragile, and it was only under his gentle ministrations that you remembered what it was to be whole.

You could already see a few new scars scattered across his arms – stories for him to tell when the words found you again – but for now it was all you could do to tilt your head to meet his lips in a long awaited kiss, your heart squeezing with something that felt a lot like coming home.

#Lord of the Rings Reader Insert #LOTR Imagine #LOTR Reader Insert #Aragorn x Reader #Drabble #500 - 1000

[dynamicdiplomacy]

Do you ever wonder that, after he arrived in the Undying Lands with Gimli, Legolas felt this crushing regret that maybe if he'd just fought harder, pleaded and begged more, Aragorn might have been allowed to come with?

He convinced them to allow Gimli across the sea, why couldn’t Aragorn, King of Gondor and Child of Imladris, join them in eternal glory?

And there is one day, when the sorrow overwhelms him knowing it will be so long before he sees his friend again, that Gimli finally sits him down:

“It is the Gift of Men that their lives have an end, it is the way the world was made. And while I know you ache to see him again just as I do, we will see him when the Second Song is sung. The Three Hunters will be once more, with new land to explore and adventures abound. You knew such a day would come for Aragorn - and for me - and yet you became friends with us anyway.”

“I thought I would be prepared for it, in the end. But instead I find that it is worse than any other sorrow. Why should he be denied what he, out of all of us, deserves most? Eternity’s rest after a lifetime of authority and strife?”

“That is a question you must ask of Ilúvatar yourself, my friend. They know the ways of this world far better than me.”

“When the world is made anew, do you think... he will remember us?”

“Lad, if that foolish man does not, I shall shave his ridiculous beard off myself.”

#sorry this came out way sadder than intended #I was just having some Thoughts™ while on the train #lotr #legolas #aragorn #gimli #lotr drabble #lord of the rings #fic #lotr fic #my writing

[rangers-are-cool-moved]

Found and Lost Again | Part 1

Prompt: [ wall ] your muse pinning mine against a wall. Crossover verse: The Sentinel

  A storm had been brewing over the Northern Dúnedain for months now. All of them from Sentinels to Guides and even those without any extra abilities could feel it. No one could settle fully, always on guard and waiting for something to finally break. The least settled of them all was their temporarily in charge Commander. 

  Despite what people thought, Hal didn’t have a bond with her friend and leader. She only tended to give Aragorn slight nudges when he started to fixate on something. It was how they had always worked and that wouldn’t change until the younger man found his Guide. 

  Hal had been deemed BROKEN with too many sharp edges, borderline wild nature and being emotionally distant. She was not a Guide that any Sentinel actually wanted permanently in their mind. Which didn’t bother her in the least, although it irritated her kin. 

“Where’s the Commander?” 

  The mission had been a complete success and they could go home now. But something felt wrong. Really really wrong. “She was going to check something out along with Ryton and Raidon. Something’s not right though.”

  “Exactly. Where’s Hal?!” Saeradan was a Sentinel with 4 senses. He was weaker than their currently missing Chieftain but he also knew the gender-fluid woman far too well as both a Guide and one of his closest friends. For her to suddenly take a detour in their mission didn’t bode well. 

  Neither did the sudden deep snarl that could have only come from one source: A captured Sentinel. It didn’t take long for Saeradan and Dirael to backtrack and follow the path that the three Rangers had taken earlier. The same path that the snarl had come from. Moments later, Raidon and Ryton appeared at the end of the tunnel. But there was no sign of Hal. 

  Raidon heard the familiar footsteps and put a hand up to stop them, not wanting anything else to go wrong. “Good news: we’ve found Strider.” He shared a concerned glance with Ryton, who was keeping a eye on the scenario ahead. 

“And the bad news?” 

  “He only recognises Hal at the moment and doesn’t like us being so close to him. Hence why we’re stood back here.” 

  The younger Dúnedain nodded, knowing what his former teacher was silently saying. It didn’t come as a surprise that Hal was the only one who Aragorn was letting near. But on the other hand, they couldn’t stay here for much longer. “Hal? Place is empty but we don’t know how long for.” 

~~~~ 

  Following her instinct and finding Aragorn had been one thing. Getting his Sentinel to calm enough for the man’s normal levelheadedness to take over, was a completely different challenge in itself. First thing first though: getting him to back off a bit so she could actually move away from the wall. “Understood. Ryton, could you and the others make sure that the way we came in is still clear, please?” 

  There was a definitely lengthy pause at her request. Normally Ryton would follow it without many questions but this was not a normal day. Nor was it a standard situation since their leader wasn’t.. entirely in his right state of mind. So it didn’t surprise her that none of them wanted to leave her alone with Aragorn like this. 

“Commander…” 

  “Please? Raidon will still be here but Strider isn’t calming-,“ The low continuous growl was making THAT rather clear and she rested a light hand on the man’s chest to push him back slightly, “and we need to get out of here soon.” 

  It took another few minutes and some quiet reassurance from Raidon, before they were left alone. The effect was immediate as tension drained from Aragorn’s taller frame. Now, and only now, did he finally heed her silent request to move back a bit so she could move. 

 “Hal…” 

   “Yes, Rai-,” It took longer than Hal would have liked to realise that Raidon hadn’t said anything. Dark automatically refocused on the only person who could have spoken in a such rough sounding voice. “Aragorn..” She studied him for a moment, letting his Sentinel take comfort in the familiar sharpness of her mind. 

  Then she exhaled slowly and straightened. “I hate to push you but we need to go. I can shield you until we reach Rivendell or I can knock you out if you don’t think you’ll manage the journey.” They hadn’t planned to head for Rivendell but that plan had altered the minute Aragorn had been found. 

  Dark sapphire blue eyes scanned his friend and second in command silently. For most people, Hal looked fine but the younger man knew differently. It was far too easy to spot the weariness and hidden pain that she was carrying- and he didn’t like it. But there wasn’t anything he could do right then. “Shielding but only if you can.” He chose carefully, giving her a sharp glance. 

“I’ll be fine.” 

  The Dúnedain Chieftain relaxed slightly when he felt the familiar sharp edges of her mind shielding him from a sense overload. But his concern grew as he followed his kin out silently, letting Hal remain in charge. Given how bad he actually felt, Aragorn opted to ride on Star with Hal. It also meant she wouldn’t have to work as hard to shield him. 

  Hal sped on ahead when Aragorn finally lost his fight with consciousness, quickly followed by Raidon as protection. The others stopped in Tornhad, a hidden Ranger community in the wilds near Rivendell and rested there. It was on the third day of waiting when they returned without Aragorn. 

  Saeradan only needed a glance and he was pulling the dark haired woman into his arms, already knowing what was wrong. “Come on, you need sleep and food.” ‘And a distraction.’ But he didn’t say that last part aloud and took her to where they was temporarily staying. 

  Raidon stepped in before anyone could ask questions, especially the Sentinels amongst the group. “Strider will be fine. They currently have Lady Arwen shielding him until he’s able to repair them himself.” He wouldn’t have said anything else, had it not been for Ryton’s stare. “Neither myself nor Lord Elrond think that he’ll react well when he wakes up.” 

“Why?” A simple question with a seemingly simple answer. But it was a answer they all expected yet no one wanted to hear. 

   “Because Hal’s his. Aragorn is like a dark swirling constantly moving tempest and strong as she is, Lady Arwen would have got snuffed out like a light, had she done what Hal did earlier. We’ve been asked to stay put in case our help is necessary.” 

  “But the only one among us strong enough to even attempt helping would be Hal. And Aragorn won’t let her go a second time if that happens. Not if it means losing her altogether.” Ryton realised quickly, noticing the looks of worry. “So we just wait here and hope that he accepts Lady Arwen’s help.” 

“Fuck.” 

  Waiting was not unknown to the Rangers of the North but this was a different sort of waiting. And the result would not be known for another day.

#writing is best done at night with music :: drabbles #~/ i will always answer the call \~ :: hal #isildur's heir :: aragorn #sentinel/guide crossover #this is long #*|* we help where we can/ even if it means death *|* :: ranger mission #this is looong

[mxmia]

a dragon-shaped cloud

https://archiveofourown.org/works/38942646

Gilraen and little Estel watch the clouds.

Rating: Gen

Relationship(s): Gilraen & tiny!Estel

Characters: Gilraen, tiny!Estel, clouds

———

The sky above them was a deep blue, and the birds chirped happily in the nearby trees. This wasn't a surprising scenario, not in Rivendell at least; but still, the elves in the Hall of Fire were playing a slow song about the First Elves, and it was extremely calming.

Gilraen found herself resting on the soft grass of one of Rivendell’s many gardens, with her son laying with his head on her belly and his legs sprawled around.

She was running her hand absently through Estel’s fluffy hair; and the child was grinning back at her.

Gilraen felt lighter than she'd felt in years.

They'd stayed that way for a while before Estel looked at her and said, pointing up towards the sky, “Naneth! Look! A dragon!”

Gilraen felt herself tense and scramble go get to her feet, looking up to the sky to find the creature and, hopefully, to find a way to keep Estel out of the way.

However, the only thing in the sky were cotton-like clouds.

She raised an eyebrow, “Estel? Where is the dragon?”

Estel had gotten up when she had, and now bounced happily on his heels, “It’s right there, Naneth!” He said, pointing towards a cloud that was, in fact, dragon-shaped.

Gilraen let out a sigh of relief and threw herself back to the grass, “Ai, Estel, you scared me!”

Estel followed, grinning at his mother sheepishly, “Sorry. But look, that one over there looks like Lord Elrond!”

Gilraen chuckled, and ran her hand through Estel’s fluffy hair, “And that one looks just like our cat!”

#fellowshipofthefics #gilraen #aragorn #estel #rivendell #imladris #ficlet #drabble #aragorn son of arathorn #wednesday word play #my fic

[htchnr]

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ HTCHNR's 1K DRABBLE EVENT!

TYSM FOR 1K FOLLOWERS!! you guys mean the world to me and ily all dearly 🩷🩷!

ˏˋ HOW DOES IT WORK.

send me an ask with a character, a drink and a snack and i'll write up a drabble using them! also give me a short idea of what direction you want the fic to go! (please only request 1 snack and 1 drink per ask!)

ˏˋ UPDATE!

all received requests are being worked on! and i hope to get everything out and done before halfway april!

ˏˋ CHARACTER LIST.

Thranduil — the hobbit.

Joe MacMillan — halt and catch fire.

Aragorn — lord of the rings.

ˏˋ DRINK LIST.

🧃 JUICE — a platonic relationship.

🫖 TEA — an established relationship.

🥛 MILK — heavy pining for each other.

☕️ COFFEE — non reciprocated feelings.

ˏˋ SNACK LIST.

🍰 CAKE — a soft comfort fic.

🍦 ICECREAM — a cute fluffy fic.

🍪 COOKIES — an angsty fic with comfort.

🍓 STRAWBERRIES — an angsty fic with no comfort.

ˏˋ WRITTEN FICS.

🥛+ 🍰 | SURPRISE PICNIC , roman godfrey.

🥛+ 🍰 | DAMN FANCY LADS , paladin danse.

#⋆🎊rorys 1k drabble event #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner #aaron hotch hotchner #aaron hotch hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner fluff #aaron hotchner imagine #aragorn x reader #aragorn #aragorn fluff #aragorn imagine #phillip graves #philip graves x reader #phillip graves imagine #phillip graves x reader #david o'donnell imagine #david o'donnell x reader #david o'donnell #roman godfrey x you #roman godfrey x reader #roman godfrey imagine #roman godfrey #paladin danse #paladin danse x reader #paladin danse imagine #porter gage x female sole surviver #porter gage oneshot #porter gage fallout 4 #porter gage imagine #gage x reader

[babe-bombadil]

Monumental Mischief

Summary: Boromir receives a mysterious bottle from Merry and Pippin. Havoc ensues. (Happens post-battle of Isengard on the journey back to Helm's Deep.)

Written for the 2023 @fall-for-tolkien event! Inspired by You Have Mail by @i-did-not-mean-to

Rating: G

Word Count: 1,184

Read on AO3 or below

“Um... Gandalf?”

The wizard looked up to see Pippin and Merry looking at him with what they surely thought were innocent smiles but he knew were devious grins. He narrowed his eyes at them and raised an eyebrow. Merry elbowed Pippin and he spoke again.

“We were wondering if there was any way to get some more of that Entwash that Treebeard gave us?”

“Purely for research purposes of course,” Merry interrupted.

“And we wouldn’t be drinking it ourselves, just, um, studying it some more. You know, to learn more about the mystical ways of the Ents,” Pippin finished.

Gandalf paused. He found himself in a difficult predicament. If he said no, the hobbits would never let it go. Constantly bugging him and asking for it every time he got a chance to sit down. It would be no use to explain to the pair that he did not have access to the draught. They were convinced he was all-powerful. However, Gandalf knew it would be an absolute disaster to give the young hobbits Ent-draught. They were already both taller than any hobbits Gandalf had known, and even if they did keep their word and not consume it themselves, they would surely be using it to wreak havoc on the company.

He kept silent for a moment, pondering his next move, when he was struck with a devious idea. Why not give the hobbits a taste of their own medicine? Surely no harm could be done, and they would all have a good laugh. He could use a splash of entertainment.

“Very well,” Gandalf replied. “I shall see if I can procure some for you. And I must say, I am delighted that you have decided to take a scholarly path. Run along now.”

That night, Boromir was laying out his bedroll when he found a small brown sack that had been slipped into his bag. Curious, he opened it to find a small glass bottle and a letter. He unfolded the note and attempted to decipher the scribbled handwriting.

Dear Boromir, Here is a little thank you present from your favorite members of the fellowship. It will help keep you strong so you can keep teaching us sword fighting. We know you’ll enjoy it!

Signed, Your favorite hobbit (and Pippin)  Pippers and Merry Berry Merry and Pippin!

Boromir’s face split into a grin as he chuckled. He really did care for the hobbits and was honored they would give him a gift. In Gondor, the giving of a gift implied great respect and admiration. Apprentices often gave gifts to their masters to thank them for passing on their skills. Folding the note carefully and tucking it into his pocket, he turned to the vial. It was a rather peculiar shape, large at the bottom and curved to a small opening at the top, and filled with an amber liquid. He heard stifled giggles in the bushes nearest him and fought a smile. Perhaps it was hobbit custom to hide nearby while a friend opened your gift.

He pulled the cork out and downed the entire thing in one gulp. To his surprise, it tasted just like regular Gondorian mead. An odd thing to have, to be sure, and too small an amount for his liking, but he was grateful nonetheless. Too worn out from the day to question how his friends procured the drink, he laid down to sleep with a happy smile on his face. It was nice to be appreciated.

The next morning Boromir opened his eyes and stretched with a yawn. A smile set itself on his face as he sat up. His good mood was such that he even began to hum while packing up his bedroll. He had a feeling it was going to be a great day.

Swinging his pack over his shoulder, Boromir strolled over to where Aragorn, Pippin, and Merry were sitting eating breakfast.

“Good morning, friends,” he called out as he approached.

“Hey Boromir! You’re sure looking tall today,” Merry yelled back. He glanced at Pippin, who nodded his head emphatically.

“Even for a man, you seem very large,” the young hobbit added. “We’re so lucky to have such a tall and strong person in our company!”

“Isn’t he looking tall today, Aragorn?” Merry turned his head to look at his friend. Aragorn gave a tired sigh. He did not get enough sleep to deal with whatever antics the two hobbits dreamed up.

“Just finish your breakfast already. We need to get on the road.”

“Aragorn?”

The ranger sat up from where he had been starting a fire. “Yes, Boromir?”

The man took a deep breath. “Is it true?”

“Is what true?”

“Is it true what the hobbits have been saying all day? Am I actually looking a lot taller?” Boromir asked hesitantly.

Aragorn furrowed his brow. “If you’re looking for compliments, you’ll have to try someone else.”

“No, that's not it. It’s just…” Boromir hesitated. Aragorn set down his sword and turned his full attention to his companion.

“Yes?” he prodded.

“Well, the hobbits gave me a drink of some sort the other night and I assumed it was mead, but now I’m worried they somehow got their hands on some sort of growing potion,” Boromir rushed. Aragorn tried to keep his expression serious as he nodded.

“Growing potion.”

Boromir dragged his hand across his face. “I know it sounds fanciful, but they have been making comments about my height all day and it has made me worried! Even my boots don’t fit quite right anymore! Am I truly unnaturally tall today?”

Aragorn took a deep breath and pursed his lips to fight down a smile. It appeared that his friend was legitimately distressed, and it would not do to mock him now. He laid his hands on Boromir’s shoulders. “I promise that you look exactly the same height as yesterday. A completely normal height for a man. I do not know what Merry and Pippin were referring to, but can one ever know what those two are on about?”

Boromir, who had been holding his breath, heaved a sigh of relief. “I suppose I’ve overreacted. The hobbits were probably just trying to compliment me. Thank you, my friend.”

Gandalf smiled to himself. Giving the hobbits a fake potion was a genius plan, if he did say so himself. They couldn’t complain to him that it didn’t work, because to do so would admit they had given it to someone. And if they truly wanted to study it… well, Gandalf knew that definitely wasn’t true. He had successfully pranked the pranksters. Besides, the smallest part of him had enjoyed watching Boromir’s distress grow throughout the day. Such a valiant man being afraid of his height was extremely entertaining. 

Suddenly anxious, the wizard reached into his saddle bag and ensured the palantír was still inside. He was afraid that with the prank having failed, young Pippin’s thoughts would again turn towards the stone. Oh, Gandalf wished the hobbit had never picked it up. Perhaps he would sleep with it tonight, just to be safe.

Thanks to @psyche-the-ya-protagonist for being my awesome beta reader!

Comments and reblogs are always appreciated! Let me know your thoughts or personal headcanons!

#lotr #lord of the rings #boromir #tolkien #pippin took #aragorn #merry brandybuck #merry and pippin #gandalf #the fellowship of the ring #the lord of the rings #lotr fanfic #lotr fanfiction #merry and pippin are pranksters #fluff #pranks #boromir lives au #the return of the king #tolkien ents #scribbles & drabbles 2023