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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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astronicht · 5 days

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Since finishing Fellowship I keep seeing references to LOTR as a sweeping heroic tale etc and this is now confusing to me, both in terms of story structure (hero tale or Romance; immram or exile tale) and the level of fantasy. The thing I’m learning about the art of writing swords and sorcery is that — to me, personally! And I get that this sounds bonkers! — Tolkien mostly feels like low fantasy. He just made the magic that was already there real. To the point where it takes a long time to even notice when people are doing magic, and whether it’s magic is sometimes debatable. Sam even complains about this briefly in Lorien (that the Elf magic isn’t dramatic) which is funny bc he’s utterly surrounded by small magics the whole time. Hell, in a story that stresses the power of words, quite literally to protect, I think that in of the fellowship plus Bilbo, only Aragorn, Bilbo, Legolas [edited to add Legolas sorry for forgetting u my guy], and Sam have actually composed their own poems and songs. And most of Aragorn and all of Legolas’s was Boromir’s funeral song.

I’m mostly asleep and have effectively only read Fellowship so far but idk! My point is that it doesn’t feel like it’s so influenced by the structure of later high medieval and onwards hero stories all that much. WAS Tolkien influenced by French Romances and Shakespeare and modern novels like oh absolutely! But lotr isn’t the Green Night or even Melusine, and it is only Macbeth for special occasions.

I know it’s considered a model hero’s journey or whatever but in-universe (and again, maybe just to me!) it’s not? it’s an exile story. Like The Wanderer or Erik the Red or Deor. Frodo et al say it at the beginning a bunch of times: the hobbits have exiled themselves. Gollum we’re told was exiled by his matriarch long ago and has lived as an exile ever since. Where I am at the beginning of Two Towers, Aragorn just saw the mountains that hide Gondor to the south and sang to them because he cannot yet go home. And there are a lot of those exile stories to draw on, in the time period and languages from which Tolkien was drinking deepest. Exile was a legal state and also a favourite story-frame.

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faeriichaii · 4 months

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Hey so I know this isn’t the most original idea but could you do a mutual pining Legolas x reader where reader braids his hair without knowing the significance?

For some reason I haven’t been able to find any of em recently but it is my absolute favourite thing to read 😔😔

Softest Touch ~ Legolas x Reader

A/N: that's also my favorite prompt ngl :) Anything that has to do with brading makes my heart melt haha. Btw thank you so so much for requesting <33 I appreciate it a lot :) I really hope you like the story!!

⇢ ˗ˏˋ Warnings: fluff ࿐ྂ ⇢ ˗ˏˋ Words: 933 ࿐ྂ ⇢ ˗ˏˋ Request: Yes (thank you <33) ࿐ྂ ⇢ ˗ˏˋ Meleth Nin ~ My Love ࿐ྂ

Summary: After looking at the etheral elven prince, you have the urge to weave your fingers through his silken hair, leading to more than just simple hair braiding.

Sitting on a log in front of the fire, you thank Sam for the soup he just handed you. Taking a spoon full of one of the rare warm dinners you get on your journey, you look at all of the other companions gathered around. Boromir playing around with Pippin and Merry while Aragorn, Gimli and Legolas sat on the log opposite of yours. Your eyes stop at the elven prince for a little too long, fascinated by his beauty. The light of the fire giving him a golden glow making him look even further ethereal than he already was. You noticed your growing fondness for Legolas weren’t just friendly feelings towards a companion as he once helped you out with your aim. Since then, it became almost a routine. After dinner, the both of you always decided to go a little further away from the company to practice your aim with the arrows (that you also carve together) and sometimes share a few stories of your past.

Finishing up your soup, you decide to join the other three on the log for a quick chat. Legolas notices you first and gives you a soft smile, before scooting over to make some room for you. Sitting down beside him you notice your close proximity and feel the familiar warmth spread to your cheeks. Looking at his side profile you see his beautiful white hair, which almost seems to glow due to the light source in front of you. The way his hair falls over his back makes it look like the softest of silk and you wish to run your fingers through it. “Legolas, I have been wondering if I could maybe braid your hair?” Gimli spits out his soup while Aragorn lets out a cough. Confused at their reaction about your request you look at them bewildered. Legolas cheeks were dusted in a soft pink as he clears his throat. “That sounds lovely.” Gimli abruptly stands up and staggers away, followed by Aragorn, who politely excuses himself.

Grinning at him, you stand up from your seat at the log and take your place behind him. Weaving your hands once through his hair you realize how soft it really is. You open the braid by his ear carefully, not to hurt him before deciding on a small herringbone braid. Parting his hair into two sections, you softly start to intertwine the strands together, sometimes accidentally brushing your fingers against his pointy ear. At the soft touch he accidentally lets out a gasp. “Are you alright?” You ask him, worried that you might have hurt him. “Yes, don’t worry.” Finishing up the braid, you move back in front of him and take a look at his face. A smile graces his lips before he thanks you.

The days have passed and you notice that Gimli, as well as Aragorn, seem to have started to call you ‘Your Highness’ as well as ‘Your Majesty’. You didn’t think much about it, until one night, during your watch. You looked up at the moon, while being perched onto one of the logs in front of the fire that has been put out since a few hours. The sound of footsteps nearing you made you look up at the source. “The moon is beautiful, isn’t it?” Legolas says, before taking a seat beside you. Smiling at him you nod softly. Looking at his side profile, you notice the braid you had done a few days ago, still in tact and untouched. “Do you want me to rebraid your hair for you?” He hums softly at your question, signalling you to redo it once more. Opening the braid, you start weaving through the strands again. “I have a question I would like to ask you.” You mutter from beside him, completely focusing on his hair. “Do you know why Gimli and Aragorn suddenly call me by royal endearments?”

The elven prince chuckles softly before turning towards you after the braid is finished. “Well let me braid your hair and I can explain their behaviour.” Turning around you let Legolas comb his fingers through your hair, before he decides to start braiding on a small section. “You know, in my culture braiding is a very important and intimate gesture.” He starts, making you blush at his words. “Normally we only braid or let our hair be braided by someone we would like to court.” You gasp softly at the realization that dawns upon you. “I- I’m sorry I didn’t know.” You rasp out, turning around after Legolas is done with his braid. “Does that mean you don’t wish to court me?” He asks, tilting his head slightly. A bright blush creeps up your cheeks before you shake your head. “No I- I mean yes I do.” You look down at your hands, beginning to play with your fingers.

“I do have feelings for you Legolas. If I would have known that braiding indicates my feelings, I would have just done a better job at braiding your hair.” His laugh makes you look up at him, before he puts his hand on your cheek. “You now have enough chances to braid my hair Meleth Nin.” His thumb softly brushes against your cheek before he leans in. Meeting him halfway, your lips brush against each other in a soft kiss. Wrapping your hands around his neck you lean even closer towards him. The warmth of his body encasing you, making you feel like this is just a dream. Breaking apart you both smile softly at each other, basking in the moonlight above.

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judgementdaysunshine · 1 year

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☀️ + tolkien + only one bed <3

Omg yessss 😊

Aragorn

At first he would be frustrated because how tired he was

He would think for a while about what to do finally deciding for you to take the bed and him to have the couch or floor if there wasn't any other spot to sleep

After awhile he would wake up to see you waiting for sighing and getting beside you making sure to have just enough space to respect your boundaries but also where he had enough room to sleep and not fall off the edge of the bed

After awhile though you both slowly moved closer and closer whether it was because of the tension or because the two of you didn't feel as much awkwardness neither of you didn't know

You felt what you thought was the blanket being fixed but was actually him wrapping his arms around you

You wake up with your head on his chest not knowing what to do so you stay there and fall back asleep later waking up with him across the room looking out the window

You sit across from him talking and smiling when you look to see that he had wrapped his cape around you while you were asleep

Soon the two of you were in each other's embrace sharing a loving kiss going and eating breakfast

Boromir

He never really shared a bed with anyone so he didn't know what to think or how to act about it even when he saw your eyes get big and your face turn a rosy pink

He offers you the bigger or more comfortable side of the bed or the whole bed but you stop him telling him you both need rest and you'd just share the bed for the night

After falling asleep he felt something warm touch his spine looking behind him to see your arms wrapped around his torso and your head against his spine quietly sleeping making him confused but then smile going back to sleep holding your hand

You wake up the next morning to see boromir sitting next to you smiling looking down at you which made you turn a bright pink trying to hide your face but he gently grabbed it kissing your cheek

Gently he pulls you into his lap making you laugh and then smile laying your head on his shoulder while he just holds you "I love you my dear"

Frodo

He would be very nervous offering you the bed going to sleep in front of the fire but you immediately grab and gently sit him on the bed laying down

After a while of small talk and getting under the covers you both slowly fall asleep to the small cracks of the fire across the room

You were almost asleep when you felt a gentle but soft warm touch against your face peeking your eye open just enough where you'd still look asleep seeing him caress your face while he watches the fire

Soon you fell back asleep as he looks at you smiling before slowly and hesitantly leaning towards you kissing your cheek laying down and going to sleep

You woke up seeing frodo come in with first breakfast smiling as you locked eyes after leaning up as he put the tray in your lap sitting down beside you with a cup of tea in his hands

After finishing breakfast the two of you just talk while sitting up in bed laughing and smiling at the chaos of Merry and Pippin down the hall from the two of you

Soon you both get ready meeting the rest of the fellowship downstairs and continuing on your journey to Mordor

Sam

He would be very quiet and embarrassed not knowing what to do before turning around to bunk with frodo if the two of you couldn't get a different room with two beds

After finding out that it was the only room you could have he reluctantly agreed to share the bed making sure not to crowd you or overtake the whole bed

Soon he woke up feeling a bit warmer looking to see you asleep on him with your legs tangled with his and your head on his lower chest first a bit startled but after looking at you he smiles wrapping his arms around you going back to sleep

You both wake up wrapped and molded together making both of you turn bright red jumping away until you both laugh and sit back by each other

You place a kiss on his cheek making him frozen solid until he finally comes back to reality as you smile at him

The two of you share first breakfast getting ready going outside meeting everyone else who were waiting to leave and continue the journey to Mordor to destroy the ring

Legolas

He would definitely offer you the room and get another one for him but before he could walk out you wouldn't mind sharing the bed

You make sure that you don't touch each other and soon you're both asleep until he wakes up seeing you at the end of the bed staring at the fireplace

You turned being brought into a hug by him staying like that for an hour until you looked at each other soon in a gentle and slow kiss holding each other until you laid back down with your arms around each other,legs entangled,and head on his chest listening to his heartbeat falling asleep not much long after

You both wake up showering together telling how much you felt for each other sharing kisses on your bodies then finishing getting ready and going down eating lembas bread waiting for everyone holding hands smiling

#lord of the rings x reader #aragorn x reader #samwise gamgee x reader #boromir x reader #legolas greenleaf x reader #frodo baggins x reader #judgementdaysunshine #judgementdaysunshine's birthday celebration

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welikeimagines-andfandoms · 2 months

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LOTR/ The Hobbit Preference: How You Met (3/4)

(1) (2) (4)

Aragorn

Aragorn and you met when you were a guest in Rivendell. You were reading in the library and once he spotted you he couldn’t help but introduce himself.

Getting lost in the tale of the large book in your lap, you didn’t notice someone approaching your comfortable spot on the fancy elvish lounge.

“Hello.” You heard a gentle voice announce.

Startled, your legs jumped down from the couch and were quickly placed on the ground below, book thrown beside you.

“I’m sorry I didn’t mean to startle you. My names Aragorn.”

“It’s alright, in a world of my own. My names y/n, it’s lovely to meet you.” You smile up at the handsome man before you.

Bard

Bard and you met one evening at a lavish elvish ball in Mirkwood. Bard felt very out of place at such a fancy party, but you managed to remedy his anxieties.

“Are you alright?” Bard heard from beside him. Turning he notice a lovely elf standing beside him.

“I’m sorry?” He asked, not fully catching what you had said.

You can’t help but giggle at the handsome mortal man’s confusion.

“I was just asking if you were alright, you seem a little nervous.”

“Oh, hah, yeh. I’m just not used to such lavish parties.” He responded nervously.

“I understand, they can be a little intimidating sometimes. Would you care for some company, we don’t have to dance but it might help to have a friend. I’m y/n, it’s lovely to meet you.”

“A friend sounds nice. I’m Bard, nice to meet you.”

Boromir

Boromir found you one afternoon on a snowy day in Gondor, taking your horse for a walk. Being new to Gondor you’d decided to get to know the land and become familiar with your new home.

Petting the dark brown mane of your horse, you turn as you heard the crunching of the snow.

“Oh, hello.” You turn to see the handsome man before you.

“Hello, my lady. Are you alright out here?” He asked, concern lacing his voice.

“Im alright, just going for a walk. I thought I’d get to know the town. I’m y/n, I just moved here last week.” You introduced.

“I’m glad you’re alright, my lady. Such a cold and snowy day, I didn’t want you getting harmed. I’m Boromir, a pleasure to meet you.” He smiles sweetly, talking your hand and giving it a light kiss.

Eomer

Eomer and you first met at the battle of helms deep. He knew immediately that you were a witch when he laid eyes on you and immediately was filled with distrust. It wasn’t until you healed his sister that he let his guard down.

“Aragorn, let me assist.” You announced as you walked over to the two men and the young woman on the cot.

“You leave us be, witch, we don’t need your kind of help.” Eomer sneered.

“Eomer, let her help. I know how magic has affected you and your family but y/n is a very powerful healer and I give you my word that she means you no harm.” Aragorn defended you.

His attitude was changed as he saw his sister awaken, life returning to her eyes. Walking away, you let the siblings have their moment together.

“Y/n!” You heard Eomer shout.

Turning you see him standing before you.

“I apologise for how I’ve behaved toward you and I thank you for helping my sister and fighting beside us.” He spoke softly.

Faramir

Faramir met you the first time he came to The Shire after the war. You had been sitting in a field making daisy chains and flower crowns with the young hobbits.

Your laugh filled his ears like sweet bells. Turning he saw you sitting in the lush field, surrounded by flowers and smiling little hobbits.

“You should go and talk to her.” Aragorn smiled at the blushing man.

“Her names y/n. Shes a friend of Rosie’s, comes into town every now and then to help with the children and sell her jam.” Samwise smirked at Faramir at his other side.

“Y/n.” He smiled with wonder in his eyes

Walking over his smile grew the closer he got.

“Hello, my lady. I heard you were the one to go to if I wanted to become an expert flower crown maker.” He smirks down at your seated position in the grass.

“Well you heard right. I’m y/n.” You beamed up at the handsome man.

“Faramir.” He politely bowed.

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ema0rsully · 2 months

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Ok, hear me out. Au idea here.

What if after death, spirits get to choose whether or not to leave or to stay for any unaccounted business.

So imagine, when Boromir was trusted with arrows and died, he had the chance to go to heaven but he was like “No, I need to protect the little ones” and the Valars were like, “Ok, sure man. Do your thing. No rush”.

He goes back to watch over Merry and Pippin in the hopes that it will provide some closure to see them safe and sound somehow, but only to encounter a couple of dwarrows by their side. He could tell by their wild long hair and the braids sticking out. Also the short height.

Boromir: I’m sorry but are you acquaintances of the hobbits?

The dwarrows chuckled and shook their heads leaving the man confused, leading him to ask again.

Boromir: Well, we should properly introduce ourselves since I have no clue who you are. I am-

“We know who ya are, mate! No need for introductions!” The blonde one says before shaking Boromir’s hand.

“The names Fíli.” The blonde smiled warmly. The other smiled too, “Kíli.”.

Then the two bowed “At yer service!”.

Kíli patted Boromir’s back,

Kíli: Ya fought well for a Man

Boromir: Oh, I dont think I did enough. I couldn’t save them-

Fíli: Ya did yer best, mate. Thats what matters. Yer kin would be proud to know ya fought honourably

And this makes Boromir smile and feel a little bit at ease. Then the three spirits continue to follow the Orcs that held Merry and Pippin hostage all while Fíli and Kíli told Boromir about The Company and their adventure with Bilbo Baggins.

Edit: I did not know it was called a sansukh. Lol. I just started reading the fanfic and it finally made sense to me now. Lol.

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entishramblings · 4 months

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Fuck the Forbidden Pt. 2

[Boromir/F!MermaidReader]

PART 1 | PART 3 — coming soon

Fuck the Forbidden: FTF LINK MASTERLIST

A.N: my apologies for taking so much time to update: graduate school is a tornado, plus getting sick and the craziness of holidays season didn’t help. Anyways, thank you for your patience and your continuous support! I literally read all your comment in order to inspire me to write again!

Request: none

Pairing: Boromir X Fem!MermaidReader

Summary: The Reader is a Mermaid and witnessed a shipwreck. She becomes interested in human life—particularly one human: Boromir.

Disclaimer: Any mythology relating to the mermaids of middle earth is not canon. also I tried my best with arda water/river geography plz don’t come at me—it’s not one of my finer subjects :/

Word Count: 5.7k — listen, yes, I STILL have a problem

Warnings: depression, drowning, ptsd, alcoholism, angst, comfort, fluff, stalking (idk how to make that last one sound less creepy. you’re just gonna have to read it).

MASTERLIST | AO3 | WATTPAD

The following day, (Y/N) waited in the depths of the Anduin River by the entrance of the Minas Tirith castle. Sure enough, the captain, decorated in silver, came out upon his steed. Though he did not have the cheer he normally held—despite his recent struggles—he seemed….different. (Y/N) had hoped that he didn't remember what he saw under the lake. Maybe he figured he was too drunk and his mind was playing tricks on him? Maybe he would forget it all together? However, that fearful look in his eyes when he glanced at the river told her otherwise. It appeared Faramir failed to convince his brother that the mer-folk were just a myth.

Boromir deviated from his routine as well. He did not go to the market for the breakfast that he seemed to love. No, no. Instead he went out towards the edge of the city–towards the docks. And (Y/N) went with him. He passed his horse off to another and walked upon the wood, passing ship and boat, until he came upon a small fishing vessel. (Y/N) swam around it and took to the surface upon its side, far enough to not be spotted, but close enough to see and hear.

“Iwar,” Boromir called out. “You there?”

“Oi!” the old man replied, emerging from the sails. “What can I do for yer?”

“You have a moment?”

“For ye? Of course I do, lad. What is this about?” Iwar stated, squinting in the sun.

Boromir huffed, and pulled something from his pocket. He lightly tossed it to the older fellow. “What do you make of this?”

Iwar frowned, holding the whale up before his face by the string Boromir had used to make it into a necklace. “Where’d ye get it?”

“In a pond. One that connects to the Anduin River.”

Iwar sent him a strange look. “Do ye know what this is made out of?”

Boromir shook his head and shrugged his shoulders.

“It’s bone, Boromir,” he replied tentatively.

At this, the captain’s lips parted. “Bone?”

Iwar tossed the whale carving back to him. “Aye, couldn't tell ye what it came from. Whittled too much away for that. Ye said yer got it from a pond?”

He nodded, swallowing dryly.

“Could’ve washed up from the currents.” Iwar stated, nonchalantly, returning to the tasks of his sail. “Some trinket someone lost to the sea.”

Boromir dipped his head, his anxiety present as he fiddled with the whale.

Iwar glanced at him. “Something else, boy?”

Boromir inhaled slowly. “Iwar, do you–do you really believe those tales of the sea-folk?”

The old man sent a weary look at the captain as he tied off one of the ropes upon the fabric. “Aye. Saw one of em’ when I was just a lad. Nearly lost my life.”

Boromir focused his gaze upon Iwar. “I think–I think I saw one last night.”

At this, the older man froze. Slowly, he turned his full attention to the captain, dread slipping from his face.

Still, Boromir continued, trying to justify his sighting. ‘Though, I don't know. I was very drunk. Had a couple ales too many. My mind could’ve—”

“You were out on the sea last night?” Iwar interrupted, confused.

Boromir shook his head.

“The shore then? Never heard of em’ venturing so close.”

Boromir released a nervous chuckle, rubbing the back of his neck. “I, uh, I was in the pond by the Minas Tirith castle.”

Iwar’s form stiffened as he walked toward the captain. He nodded at the bone carving in Boromir’s hand as he spoke in a tone that held so much anxiety that it radiated through the air around him. “The same pond where ye found that?”

“Yes.”

Iwar’s eyes widened wildly. “I’d tell ye what, lad. Ye have been marked by em.’ And that—” he dipped his head at the whale once more. “—I reckon that's human bone.”

Blood drained from Boromir’s face, replaced with sheer panic. His fingers clumsily grappled with the carving, uncertain of how to handle it. Reluctant to make direct contact, he hesitated before settling on gripping the string, allowing the whale to dangle. Disgust etched across his brow.

“I’d get out while ye can. Stay away from the sea waters, boy.” Iwar warned.

….

That night, Boromir didn't go to the pool of water by the white walls—nor the following night. He, quite frankly, didn't go near the water at all. He stayed far from the beaches and from the Anduin River. He took longer paths to where he needed to go in order to avoid such circumstances that put him near what Iwar had described to live in the sea.

And this—all this broke (Y/N)’s heart. It stirred up a tumult of emotions—sadness, anger, fear, and frustration. Therefore, on the third day, she sought solace in a secluded nook along the Bay of Belfas. Hoisting herself onto a warm rock, she sat, enveloped in her misery. Her once-vivid fantasies of the land-people and Boromir now dissolved into sorrow and regret. What lingered was the haunting image of Boromir's disdainful expression when Iwar speculated that her gift was crafted from human bone. Any mer-folk would be delighted to receive such a heartfelt gesture! But Boromir wasn't of the sea, now was he.

(Y/N) stayed upon the rock for hours, hoping the sun would soak up her melancholy mood. However, that is not what the golden beams absorbed. Her skin dried, her hair lightened and billowed freely, and the scales on her tail lacked the moisture they once held. It was at that moment discomfort struck. Excruciating, searing pain surged through her tail, a relentless agony that prompted a deep cry from her lips. Every nerve seemed to flare with an intense, burning sensation, rendering her nearly paralyzed by the sheer intensity of the pain. She couldn't move, only shake and claw at the rock she perched upon. It felt like hours as she laid there, praying to the gods to make it end. And when it did, she instinctively reached for her scales. However, to her surprise, her hand met no such thing; instead, flesh had replaced the once-familiar tail.

(Y/N) gasped.

Her father had said…

He had tested them all…

None had the gift….

He lied.

Emotions swirled around her naked form as she stared at the strange extension that replaced her glimmering scales—legs. Anger, irritation, sadness, regret, frustration, excitement all ran through her blood.

Slowly, she stood. As she took a wobbly step upon the rock, a loud, breathy giggle escaped her lips.

Was this a dream?

(Y/N) took another uncertain step, and another, and another—until she stumbled, her hand reaching out to break her fall. However, a splash came from that, for her palm struck where water had gathered in a dip upon the rock.

Immediately, she felt it.

Her skin tingled, then burned and stung, stretching and pulling in a painful dance. (Y/N) cried out as the pain intensified. With scales attempting to form on her dry legs, the tugging became excruciating once more—tears streamed from her eyes as she desperately scrambled towards the water.

Her form slipped and rolled, right off the rock and into the ocean.

Immediate relief enveloped her. Scales continued to knit together without a hint of pain. The water soothed her. It coated the soreness into nonexistence.

(Y/N) allowed her form to sink, adjusting.

There she floated, letting her body and mind adjust to what had just happened.

It was then when one of the turmoiling emotions overtook the rest of them. It coursed through her gills and surged through her veins.

How dare he…

With a decisive flick of her tail, she propelled herself toward her father's palace.

The anger granted her remarkable speed, causing other merfolk to whip their heads around in confusion as she barreled past them.

She swam directly to the grand chamber, where she anticipated her father perched upon his throne, and busted the door open with her tail.

“HOW DARE YOU?!” she screamed at him.

Heads turned instantly—her father’s, her sisters’, the guards’.

“HOW DARE YOU LIE TO ME, FATHER. HOW DARE YOU NOT TELL ME I HAD THE GIFT?!”

Her father rose, signaling the guards to leave. They swam away quickly, avoiding the impending wrath of the sea's king and his children.

“You lied straight to my face,” (Y/N) stated.

“(Y/N), what are you talking about?” Anahita interjected, appalled by her sister’s tone.

Mareena added to her statement. “That is no way to speak to our father!”

(Y/N)'s tail flicked with irritation as she focused her gaze on the man before her. “I have the gift to walk among the land-folk.”

Una gasped. Seria’s mouth dropped open. Rana’s eyes widened. Nerida’s brows shot upwards.

Their father swam towards (Y/N). “You went to the land?!” he growled. “It is forbidden.”

“I DID NOT GO ONTO THE LAND!” She snapped back. Taking a deep breath, she spoke again. “I was letting the sun warm me upon a rock when it happened—the tingling, the splitting, the pain.”

“You went to the surface—”

“How dare you not tell me, Father!”

“I DID NOT TELL YOU BECAUSE OF THIS!” He yelled. “Because I knew the minute you would figure it out, you would want to test out your new form. You would put us all in danger.”

“YOU HAVE PUT ME IN DANGER. YOU HAVE MASKED YOUR PROTECTION IN LIES THAT HAVE ONLY CAUSED ME PAIN. HOW DARE YOU!” (Y/N) retorted.

With that, (Y/N) swam away. She twisted through the reefs and the grass. She slipped through the schools of fish and their bubbles. She slithered through the rocks and caves. She did so until she was back in the Anduin River, where the lively markets and the hustle of people's households awaited. Breaking through the water's surface, she emerged with a cautious awareness, ensuring she remained unseen.

She swam along the edge until she came upon a line of clothing strung between two buildings. On it hung sheets as bright as a lemonpeel angelfish, a skirt holding the vibrance of an orange clownfish, a flowing wrap the hue of a blue tang fish, a pair of trousers the color of a brown leafy sea dragon, a top shaded like that of a pink fairy wrasse, and a flowing dress the cream color of a stingray’s belly.

(Y/N) looked at her surroundings.

The people were on the other side of the clothing line—all mucking about in the market. None even bothered to shed a glance behind the fabric. All were too busy going about their day.

Therefore, with little regard for the forbidden nature of her actions—because, really, fuck the forbidden—(Y/N) decided to defy the rules that had once controlled her life.

Originally, she hadn't intended to act in such defiance, but the anger coursing through her veins urged her forward into impulsive urges.

Hauling her form out of the water, (Y/N) manipulated the water clinging to her, using her fingers in twisting and rippling motions. She gathered the liquid into a cohesive ball and, with a flick of her wrist, sent the sphere dancing through the air before it plopped back into the river.

The tingling sensation began, followed by the excruciating pain, and soon enough, the transformation into legs commenced.

Anxiously, (Y/N) stood. Her shaky legs wobbled as she adjusted to their unfamiliar form. Her trembling fingers swiftly seized the cream colored dress—she didn't want to stand out, she needed to blend in—and she clumsily slipped it on. Her gaze then fixated on a brilliant blue wrap. The color resonated with the deep seas she hailed from, and she couldn't resist. The mermaid grasped the silk and yanked, winding it around her hair in a manner she had observed from land women when peeking from the river. Letting some of her locks cascade out of the twisted band, the blue fabric draped over her shoulders. She smiled.

Her hand instinctively rose to her neck, where her necklace adorned with shells, sea glass, and bones encircled her skin. A frown crossed her face. She couldn't part with it—this cherished gift from her since passed mother. Therefore, she let it remain, finding that it didn't look too out of place.

(Y/N) ventured into the market, nervously navigating the bustling city of Minas Tirith with her new, wobbly legs. The vibrant atmosphere teemed with life and excitement as diverse groups came together to weave the people into the human race. So many men, women, and children—all different sizes, all different shapes, all different skin tones—bustled through the streets.

Young children ran through the tents playing games and tricks on one another. Often enough, a woman was pursuing the chase while yelling for their halt of mischief. Men were not involved in this matter. Instead, they loudly called out the names of what they sold, along with prices, at the busy passerbyers in hopes of getting a customer. Never had (Y/N) seen something so brilliantly enthralling and engaging—not in her time under the sea with the mer-folk.

As she moved through the people, she discreetly snagged what she needed. A pair of sandals disappeared from a rack, and she swiftly turned away before anyone noticed. Vibrantly colored bracelets caught her eye at a vendor's stall, and she couldn't resist snagging a few. Additionally, she plucked food from bins and baskets. She didn't know what it was—but oh how delicious it tasted when it was not dunked in the salt of the sea.

Here, (Y/N) stayed, exploring the thrill of humanity and letting their culture enrapture her senses. So much so, that she failed to notice a soldier adorned in silver until she collided with his metal-plated chest.

Her form tumbled backwards, taking an extra moment to steady.

“Are you alright, miss?” a concerned voice inquired.

(Y/N) slowly raised her head to meet a familiar face: Faramir.

Unable to find her voice, she could only nod in reply. Shyness and anxiety filled her as she backed away from the unexpected encounter.

He acknowledged her reply with a dip of his own head before turning to another soldier a little ways away. He made way towards him and gently touched his arm. “Boromir, we should get going. Father is expecting us.”

(Y/N) went still. Her inquisitive gaze shifted towards him, and indeed, there stood Boromir. His dark, sandy hair brushed upon his forehead, tousled slightly from the refreshing breeze. Vibrant blue eyes held a sternness, concealing the sadness she knew resided in his heart. His pink lips pressed into a firm line, refraining from the warmth of a smile. Boromir was clad in the silver armor and the metal weapons that she had seen him in nearly every day. He looked fit for his position as captain, his authority nearly radiating from him. Now that she was upon the land, he seemed so much bigger—so much stronger. So much more important.

(Y/N)’s cheeks began to heat, prompting her to quickly ducked behind the fabric of a tent. After giving herself a moment, she peaked out.

Though she knew she shouldn't, she found herself following them. At a safe distance, she mimicked every turn, accentuated every step, and utilized every path they took. And when the Steward's sons crossed the threshold of Minas Tirith Castle, so did she.

Instantly, she was met with just as much business as the market. Servants flooded the halls, carrying trays of fruit and platters of meat. Maids held onto neatly folded laundry and finely pressed sheets. Guards bustled about, their steel clanking as they moved through the halls, to get to their next shift, meal, or rest.

(Y/N) was so overwhelmed that she failed to notice a group of soldiers rounding the corner. As they pushed past her, a heavy shoulder slammed into her, the edge of the metal plate catching her forehead. The impact sliced the skin open, causing her to tumble backward against the wall.

Surprising her, she felt a gentle hand upon her arm, holding her steady. A soft voice that she knew all too well, that spoke words all too similar to his brother’s, filled her ears. “Are you alright, miss?”

In a daze, (Y/N) looked up at the dark sandy hair, vibrant blue eyes, and perfect pink lips of Boromir. Too stunned to speak, she merely stared at him, every thought that had occupied her mind vanishing in the moment.

Boromir turned towards the group of soldiers who had caused the commotion and knocked her down. With a tone infused with authority and anger, he snapped at them, “Watch where you are going!”

They turned, initially confused and uncertain of Boromir's reprimand until they spotted the frightened and injured girl beside him.

“What kind of soldiers are you that you let your steel hit a woman!” Boromir added, his irritation even more obvious. “Keep better track of your things—and your forms!”

The soldiers nodded, though their indifference was evident, and they shuffled away without much concern.

Boromir turned back to (Y/N), repeating his prior question, his tone gentle once more. “I apologize for the actions of my men. I will reprimand them later, but right now you are more important, yes? Miss?”

She looked up at him, blinking. He didn’t recognize her, did he?

“You’re bleeding,” he stated softly, his finger pressed gently upon her forehead.

A quiet gasp of pain escaped (Y/N)’s lips and her expressions distorted slightly.

“My apologies. I did not mean to make your pain worse. May I take you to the infirmary? We can get that treated.”

Unsure what to say—and what an infirmary was—she nervously dipped her head.

“Alright,” he began. “Let’s get you moving.”

Gently, he helped her move away from the wall, one arm wrapped around her waist. However, with a couple steps, her vision swirled and she stumbled.

Boromir caught her quickly. “Whoa, whoa. Slow down. Just a step at a time.” His brows pulled together as he looked down at her. “Are you dizzy? Is the room spinning?”

“I—I,” she stuttered. “Y-yes, uh, sir.”

He released a heated breath from his nose, the anger at the men who had harmed her simmering within him. However, he pushed it away, ensuring his attention remained on her. "How about you sit back down? Lean against the wall to keep you upright, yes?"

(Y/N) nodded, allowing him to help lower her to the stone floor. As the coldness rushed through her bones and the stillness began to steady, she looked up at him. “T-thank you,” she whispered. “Uh, sir.”

The captain smiled softly. “You may call me Boromir.”

She nodded slightly.

Boromir looked up and stopped a passing servant. “Could you please fetch me a medical kit from the infirmary? Just basic supplies.”

The man nodded, accepting the order, and rushed off. Moments later, he returned with various materials in a small box.

Boromir expressed his gratitude as he opened the kit. Without hesitation, he took hold of a soft cloth and gently swiped it upwards, collecting the blood that was now trickling down (Y/N)’s forehead. He then pressed it against the cut that was bleeding rather heavily. "Hold this there," he commanded gently.

The woman reached up to follow his instructions, and Boromir proceeded to lay out an array of little bottles and scraps of cloth. "What is your name?" he inquired as he doused a cloth in the liquids of one of the containers.

Her eyes followed his motions nervously. “(Y/N),” she replied timidly.

The Captain smiled, attempting to provide some comfort. “Are you from around here, (Y/N)?”

She shook her head.

“No? What are you doing in these parts then?” He asked.

“I—I don’t know.”

Boromir frowned, looking up at her from the medical supplies. She appeared more disoriented than he had initially expected. Perhaps the blow to the head was more substantial than he had thought?

“You don’t know?” He questioned, no alarm in his tone. Meanwhile, he began threading a needle, preparing it for the task of stitching her forehead. “Have you come with anyone? A husband? A father?”

She frowned, a blush creeping into her face at the implications of his words. “N-no. Alone.”

Boromir pressed his lips together, a sudden loneliness hitting him—one that he knew all too well—as he placed the threaded needle upon a clean cloth.

“Do you have a place to stay?”

She shook her head.

“Hmm. Alright. Let’s get you cleaned up, then we can worry about that.”

Boromir took the cloth from her forehead, his hand brushing upon hers as he did so. He then began bringing a damp cloth towards her face.

Instantly, her eyes went wide and she ducked away from the material. “It’s alright. It’s alright. It’s just alcohol.” He replied, lowering the cloth.

“N-not water?” She whispered, almost fearful.

He shook his head. “Nay. Water would not clean it properly. This will prevent any infection, though I’m afraid it will sting a bit. Is that alright?”

Slowly, (Y/N) nodded.

Boromir pressed the cloth to the cut and, instantly, she hissed.

“I know, I am sorry,” he murmured.

Gently, he cleaned the wound, being careful to not make any sudden movements that may startle her. When he was certain it was clean, he moved to pick up the needle.

“I will have to stitch it back together so it heals properly.” He looked into her worried gaze and he instantly felt guilt tugging at his heart. It appeared she had never experienced such an injury, or perhaps she had but never received proper treatment for one.

Cautiously, he used his other hand to pick up her own. Her soft palms brushed upon his hardened calloused, gentleness upon her touch. Placing her hand upon his knee, he spoke softly, “If it hurts too much just squeeze really really hard, and I will pause, alright? It is important that you keep your head still, yes?”

She nodded, adjusting her grip upon his knee, a mixture of anticipation and anxiety in her eyes.

Slowly, Boromir began the delicate task of stitching her skin back together. Her grip tightened upon him, only slightly, as she adjusted to the strange sensation of tugging on her skin.

"You are doing beautifully, (Y/N). We are almost done. I promise," the Captain reassured her. As he finished the last stitch and skillfully moved the thread to knot itself, he breathed out, "There we go," placing the needle back upon the cloth. He smiled gently, a reassuring warmth in his eyes, as he carefully cleaned the area around the stitches. "All finished," Boromir stated before leaning back, (Y/N)’s hand slipping from his knee.

“It will be sore for a bit,” he said. “But it should heal in a week. The stitching will fall out on its own, so if it starts to come out, do not worry. Though, I would advise you not to get it wet.”

At that last sentence, (Y/N) smiled softly. She wasn’t planning on getting wet—not anytime soon.

“Can you stand? Has the dizziness subsided?”

The woman nodded and slowly rose to her feet, taking Boromir’s hand when he offered it.

“Let’s find you a place to rest while you heal. And I would like to apologize for my soldiers’ actions once more. You are welcome to stay in Minas Tirith as long as you would like. I will make sure you get everything you need.”

(Y/N) looked up at his kind expression and spoke with that same nervous hesitancy. “Thank you.…Boromir.”

The captain guided her through the castle, arriving at a room. He opened the door and gestured inside with a soft smile. "It is yours to stay in. I will ensure the maids are alerted to provide you with adequate care. If you need anything else, my chambers are just down the hallway to the right, the second door."

She nodded in reply.

He bowed his head. “I will leave you then, miss.”

With that, he was gone.

(Y/N) moved to the center of the room and slowly spun around taking it all in. It was massive and airy. The windows were wind open, the sea breeze rushing in and caring hints of the city. The white curtains blew with that gentle wind, dancing in its whispers. The walls of the chamber were adorned with intricate tapestries depicting only what she could assume to be the legendary tales of the city. They were woven with beautiful silver and turquoise thread, catching the light so delicately. A bed sat in the middle of the room, soft white blankets and comforters piled on it. (Y/N) walked towards it and gently sat upon the fabric. It was….strange. Very different from the large shells she was used to curling up in.

Feeling a sudden tiredness take over her form, she laid down with ease. Resting her head upon the pillow, she allowed sleep to consume her.

…….

When she finally woke, the sun had set, and the stars took their place among the blanket of the sky. Cautiously, she pulled her legs from the cage of blankets and let them dangle off the side of the bed. They looked so….strange upon her form. She was used to her glimmering tail that collected light to share among the waters. Not—not this. She lowered her feet upon the stone floor, almost startled by the coldness that greeted them.

Hunger settled into her stomach as she moved towards the door. However, she found herself at a loss, unsure where to find a meal at this time. The markets were long since closed and she knew not where the kitchen in the Minas Tirith castle was. Of course, she could wander down to the tavern that Boromir frequented regularly—she knew the way well enough, but she didn't have any means to pay.

(Y/N) shifted on her feet. Boromir did say she could come to him if she needed anything….

Almost as if it were an excuse to see him again, she slipped through the door and began following his directions to his chambers. With every step, her heart pounded harder. She would get to see him again—and it wouldn't be through layers of water.

Upon arrival, the door stood ajar, allowing a whisper of cold air to drift from his open windows. Cautiously, she peered into the room. It was shrouded in darkness, with only the soft glow of the moon reflecting upon the vast room—oh, and what a beautiful room it was. The room eluded a captivating chaos, in the most exciting way. Tablets and shelves were filled with various items—maps, books, stones, germs, inventions, and trinkets. The room held a multitude of objects, each beckoning to be looked at, studied, and pondered—igniting a sense of wonder and an urge to guess the intention. Oh, it was a captivating sight.

“Boromir?” she called out.

Silence.

Slowly, (Y/N) stepped in. She let her feet carry her throughout the room, her hand brushing upon every object that her eyes could consume. She picked things up, examined them, then put them down for another. She did so continuously, urgently, the thirst for knowledge of the humans’ customs eager in her blood. She did so, until she came across something familiar—something she was surprised to see.

(Y/N) picked up the bone carved whale from the shelf that it rested on.

He had kept it.

A little grin formed on her face, for after his conversation with Iwar she didn’t think he would.

“Does that one interest you?” A soft tone asked.

(Y/N) jumped, startled.

Boromir chuckled lightly, stepping into the room. “I am sorry. I didn't mean to startle you.”

She glanced down at the whale carving before looking back to him.

“I am not quite sure how that one came into my possession,” he continued as he moved to stand beside her.

She frowned, looking up. Her eyes were now direct at him, focused and stern—for the first time since he had met her. He would be lying if he said it didn't startle him a bit.

“You don't remember?” she asked, her tone strong.

“Well, no it’s not that. Of course, I remember how I got it. It just was a bit peculiar.”

(Y/N) tilted her head, not understanding.

Boromir sighed, his tone was distant as he spoke, his blue gaze not wavering from her curious eyes that suddenly seemed so bold. “A friend of mine says it's a dark omen, ment to mark me for death.” His vision trailed across her face. “He says it is made of the bone of my fallen brothers, urging me to follow them to their deaths.”

“Do you believe that?”

He blinked, his gaze lingering upon the whale. “I do not know what to believe.” Boromir looked at her expression. “What are your thoughts on such a statement?”

(Y/N) shrugged, placing the whale in its spot upon the shelf. “I believe people don’t understand other cultures and customs. I believe they make their own assumptions out of ignorance and fear.”

The captain raised a brow at her intelligence. “You are feeling better then?”

“Hmm?” (Y/N) hummed in question as she moved to another object.

“Well, that is the most I have heard you speak since I met you. You are wiser than you appear to be.”

She only shrugged in response, picking up a telescope and looking through its glass—by the wrong end.

“Though,” Boromir continued in a teasing manner as he plucked the object from her grasp, turned it the correct way, and placed it back in her palms. “That wisdom seems not to extend to everything.”

She frowned, looking through the glass once before placing it down. She then went for a music box, her confused expression deepening. “We do not have all these….these things where I am from.”

Boromir reached across her and twisted the little lever, releasing the gentle music from its hold. “And where is that, may I ask?”

At the twinkling sound, her smile, born of pure delight, extended from her expression. Her response to his question, however, was only that of a simple word, “Far.”

The captain raised a brow. “How far?”

(Y/N) shot him a strange look, placing the music box down and picking up a crystal sphere instead. “You ask a lot of questions,” she mumbled.

He grinned playfully. “You do not seem to give many answers, Miss (Y/N).”

She glared at him.

With that playful smile, he spoke again. “Would it help if you got to ask a question?”

(Y/N)‘s eyes crinkled with thought as she placed the object down and turned towards him. She saw how his shoulders slumped ever so slightly, how the circles under his eyes appeared so dark, how his expression was so hollow. Softly, she spoke again. “Why are you so sad, Boromir?”

Taken aback by this, his lips parted. “I—I do not know what you mean.”

She took a step closer to him, a step that nearly eliminated the space between them, and her piercing gaze burned up at him for the truth.

Hesitantly, he whispered that truth, as if she compelled it right out of him. “I—I recently was in a shipwreck. I thought, well, I thought I was dead—left for the watery graves below.” He paused, just for a moment. “But yet I am here and I do not know why. And, I am beginning to question things that I know, well, thought I knew, for the world appears different now.”

Silence.

Boromir's soft voice then picked up again, his breath warm upon the woman’s face. “Why are you so sad, (Y/N)?”

At this, her shy nature returned. (Y/N) turned her head away, not wanting to look at the source of her sadness.

Gently, Boromir tugged on her chin, forcing her to look at him. “You implored me to tell you such a truth,” he whispered. “May I not ask the same of you?”

(Y/N)’s tone was soft. “My truth is complicated.”

“Are not all truths complicated?” he responded.

With that, she withdrew from his grasp—a hold she desperately craved—and created enough distance between them, leaving him to wonder if such closeness had occurred at all.

A loud grumble then echoed through the dark room—splitting the darkness with something else, something much for lighthearted.

“When have you last eaten?” Boromir asked.

Her brows pulled together as she looked at her stomach.

He chuckled, offering her his hand. “Come. Let’s get you some food. I can take you to my favorite place.”

“But I—I have no coin,” she whispered shyly.

“You are a guest of Gondor, Gondor will see you fed.”

(Y/N) smiled, that innocent gaze returning. She hesitantly took his hand and he led her through the castle and towards the tavern.

The two arrived at the tavern rather quickly. Urine, stale ale, and sweat flooded (Y/N)’s nostrils—familiar aromas reminiscent of her vigilant watch over Boromir along the Anduin River. The lively atmosphere enveloped the pair. In the corner, a bard sang to the patrons, his melodic voice resonating throughout, enticing some to join in. Drunk men, tapping their feet along to the beat of the tune, howled in laughter and glee as they clinked their ales together and shoveled food into their mouths. Requests for additional drinks prompted maidens, adorned in long skirts and aprons, to gracefully deliver brimming glasses, the foaming liquid sloshing about.

(Y/N) smiled, taking in the environment.

Boromir cast a glance at her out of the corner of his eye, a smirk pulling at the corner of his lips. “It’s just a tavern.”

She turned to him, her grin unwavering. “We don’t have taverns where I am from.”

He raised a brow. “And where is that? You never said.”

She shrugged. “Far.”

(Y/N) moved deeper into the tavern, with Boromir following suit. He motioned towards an available table, and they both took a seat. Before long, a serving maiden approached. Boromir signaled for two meals and two ales, and they promptly arrived.

The woman wasted no time and eagerly indulged in her food, swiftly emptying the plate.

Boromir tried to suppress a smile as he saw this, for he was glad she was getting proper nutrition after her likely long and hard journey. He, of course, wished to know more of her origins; though, he could see she wasn't quite ready to discuss such things. Instead, he opted to answer any and all questions she had which began with her curious tone.

“Boromir, would you be willing to tell me of your city? How you live in these parts? I wish to know.”

His soft gaze made contact with hers and he nodded, chewing his food and swallowing before he spoke. “What would you wish to know?”

“Everything—its structures, its people, its culture, its history.”

Therefore, Boromir spoke of such things. He described the White City's towering architecture, the valor of its people, and the complexities of the various beliefs held. He relayed its history and tales, showcasing the values of the Gondorian people.

His narratives ignited a spark in her eyes, drew laughter from her lips, and filled her heart with joy.

Fuck the forbidden indeed.

As the hours stretched on, Boromir’s friends joined them. (Y/N) could see the gleam in their eyes and catch the less-than-subtle teasing tones as they whispered about Boromir bringing a lady to their tavern. Faramir, arriving shortly after, seemed prepared for a night of dealing with his drunken brother, only to find himself pleasantly surprised by his brother's apparent sobriety and the joy the unknown woman seemed to bring to his melancholy soul.

Yet, amid the cheerful atmosphere, a pair of shifting gray eyes belonging to an old man that (Y/N) recognized as Iwar, kept her uneasy heart alert.

…..

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#vayawrites #lotr #lord of the rings #the hobbit #boromir #boromir x reader #Boromir/reader #boromir fic #boromir fanfic #boromir fanfiction #boromir x you #boromir/you #boromir one shot #boromir oneshot

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estelofrivendell · 9 months

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Could you please write something about Aragorn, Legolas and Boromir with a short s/o who's a little bit insecure about their height? Bonus points if the reader isn't very curvy so they worry about being unattractive or mistaken for being younger than they actually are. Thanks!! It's so nice to see people writing for lotr still, so thank you for that!!!

A/N: People no longer write for LOTR? That's really unfortunate, this world has a lot of things to write about :( Truth be told, I haven't written for LOTR in three years (three years is a long time and I recognize fandoms change rapidly) and I've been suffering writers' block for two years after I wrote a lengthy series for another fandom. I hope you enjoy this, thank you for your request!

ARAGORN, LEGOLAS AND BOROMIR WITH A SHORT S/O WHO LOOKS YOUNGER THAN THEY REALLY ARE AND IS INSECURE ABOUT THEIR HEIGHT AND FRAME

ARAGORN

It doesn't matter to him one bit that you're short and your body may not resemble what society deems "perfect", he will be the first to tell you you're beautiful the way you are. In fact, he finds your height endearing, since he's tall himself, even more so in the books. It's unique to him as he grew up with tall people but at the same time it's not a new concept to him since there are many short people in all the areas he's wandered in and encountered Hobbits before the timeline of LOTR (Did he? Not sure, don't really feel like fact checking that rn...) Also, he has his own experiences with not looking the age he really is, just the opposite of yours. This man is in his 80s but looks late 30s to early 40s and was raised his elves who never age, so it would not bother him one bit that you look younger than you really are.

LEGOLAS

Legolas is an elf, so it never crossed his mind that you look younger than you really are. I also think elves aren't as worked up about body image the same way us humans are, so he doesn't think about that either. At first, he was confused why you're insecure about those features but he will do his best to make you feel better, even if what he says comes off a bit insensitive. What catches his interest is your short height and at first he teases you the way he teased Gimli, but he quickly noticed how you don't respond well to those kinds of banter, so he stopped. Overall, he has some learning to do but he will become better for you and he's grateful for it and makes him appreciate people not of his kind.

BOROMIR

Not going to lie, I see Boromir as the kind of man that prefers his women taller so it might've amused him a bit when he first learned of his attraction to you. He thinks the height difference between you both is really cute and teases you a bit about it. He does not give a flying fuck that you aren't curvy and WILL call out anyone that has the audacity to give you shit about your body. Some people might give him dirty looks for picking a younger S/O to court instead of a lovely woman within his age range and he simply ignores them unless it somehow escalates into a major scandal. He doesn't realize that being seen younger than you really are affects you immensely, but when he does, he'll get right on reassuring you that there is nothing to worry about. Are you what he expected he would end up with? No, but he loves you more than anyone and anything and he would not have it any other way.

#lord of the rings imagine #lotr imagine #aragorn imagine #aragorn x reader #legolas imagine #legolas x reader #boromir x reader #boromir imagine

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leahsflwer · 9 months

Text

LOTR preference - You sitting on their lap 🫢

Warnings: Light smut, fluff for some, mentions sexual topics, adult content, ect.

Paring: LOTR characters x reader! (No gender)

Aragorn -

He grew up with no affection so he was confused when you suddenly sat on his lap. All though no matter how panicked he was, he wrapped his arms around your waist and pressed your back to his chest as you spoke with Gimli. He sweetly smiled and put his chin on your shoulder.

Legolas -

As you all sat around the large table in Rivendell. You finished pointing at parts and sat down thinking it was your seat only to realise it was Legolas. But you just let it be and he just smirked. Definitely flustered on the inside but he feels honoured to have such a gorgeous person on his lap, a large hand of his, on your hip bone as he focused on the plans that Aragorn spoke of.

Boromir -

You sat on his lap straddling him, looking him in the eyes with a soft smile. He took it the opposite way of you however. He enjoyed the feeling of you on his large lap. He raised his glass up at you with a grin and chugged it. Putting the cup down and pulling you closer onto his lap.

“You look beautiful like this, my love.”

Faramir -

As you sat on his lap facing him, it drove him insane. He was trying to tell you about his new poetry but lost all focus on it. He looked at you with a smirk appearing on his sweet lips. His blue eyes looking at you as he took in all your features. You gulped at the feeling of something under you, poking at your area.

“Sorry about that Sweetheart.”

Frodo -

You were taller than him which made it harder for him to look at your face up close. So he gently grabbed your hand so you came down to his level. You smiled at the action and sat on his lap playing with his hair gently. He loved to feeling. Slightly too much with a problem building up downstairs in the Baggin’s pants.

Merry -

He was flustered when you sat on his lap, but he just smiled in return as you told him about your day. He glanced to the side to make sure Pippin wasn’t glaring and ready to tease him, when he saw the other hobbit distracted he grinned at you and cupped your face, kissing you. Smirking as he pulled away and just listening as you continued.

Pippin -

He was staring right at you as you plopped yourself on his lap with you back turned to him. He moved his lips inches away from your neck and whispered to you. Smirking as he saw your ears and cheeks grow a strong shade of red. Feeling proud at his cheeky comment.

“Now don’t be hasty Princess. Unless you want to be sitting on something else of mine”.

Sam -

You gave him a sense of joy the moment you came into his arms. He immediately became soft as you sat on his laps while he sat by the pot cooking. He held onto your waist and continued to mix the pot time to time. Mentioning how some taters would be perfect for such a delicious meal.

Arwen -

She loved attention and felt powerful when you came to sit on her lap. She let her hands slide to your ass and held onto it. Smirking into your shared kiss. Not caring if her father caught you, as she was no longer going to listen to other’s opinions but yours.

Lindir -

When Lindir finally got some time off of working and following Elrond around he was not expecting it to end on your climbing on his lap. He was flustered, yet turned on by the action he was usually focused and mature but he couldn’t help but imagine things as your stunning face was inches from his own.

Pt.2 (post straight after~)

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scyllas-revenge · 5 months

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hi! i just read you leap of faith parts and it made my heat flutter🩷 how do you think legolas, boromir, and aragorn would react to you sleep talking during the journey? i always thought it would be funny !

Thanks so much!! I’m so glad you liked it. I’m still having trouble finding a voice for Aragorn, and I’m ready to move on from Legolas for now, but here’s a bit about Boromir and a sleeptalking reader for you <3 I meant for this to be a 300 word drabble but it got away from me a bit, as usual.

A Thief in the Night

Boromir/gender-neutral reader

Rating: G

Word count: 1,300

Read on AO3!

“No, no, please!”

Boromir’s eyes snapped open. Your bedroll was the closest to his in the Fellowship’s makeshift camp, and your panicked cry had him wide awake at once. He leapt from his bedroll with a warrior’s instinct, his hand flying to his sword to defend you from—

Nothing. You were still asleep.

The entire Fellowship remained undisturbed, other than occasional resounding snores from Gimli, a peaceful breeze ruffling the tall grass around your camp.

But even in the faint moonlight, it was clear your sleep was not peaceful, not any longer. “Please, they’re mine, you can’t…please—” Your eyes darted back and forth under their lids, your limbs twitching. Boromir hardly recognized your voice, hoarse with misery, sharpening quickly to fury. “I said they’re mine, give them back!”

In the throes of your dream, you stretched out a grasping hand, nearly clawing at his concerned face as he leaned over you. “Whoa now,” he murmured, catching your thrashing wrists in a broad hand. Your mouth twisted into a snarl as you strained at his grip, vainly reaching for something long lost.

Boromir sent a reluctant look back to his sword. Would that your tormentor was a thing of flesh and blood, something he might tear apart on your behalf! Such intangible enemies as these were beyond him. How was one meant to calm someone lost to such a nightmare? Uncertainly, he whispered your name. “Come now, you must wake.”

Your unconscious attempts to shake him off put him in mind of a horse beset by flies. “No, no, stop, you sneaking—foul—thief! Give them back, damn you…”

Clumsily, he brushed the back of his fingers along your cheek, interrupting your tirade. “Arise, dearest, for you—” He choked at dearest, stifling a hurried cough. Valar, he had hardly intended to address you so intimately—it must have been a slip of the tongue, he decided, in his haste to comfort you.

Or perhaps his own dreams, cut short by your cries, had not yet left his mind.

Still, you remained asleep, and likely for the best. He took a deep breath and jostled your shoulder—less intimate, and therefore a good deal safer. “Wake up! I shall retrieve what was taken from you, if I can. But you must wake.”

“No—no, you thieving rat, Pippin—”

“Pippin?” he repeated, startled. Had he heard you wrong?

“…don’t even need them—hobbits don’t even wear shoes, just give them back!”

“What?”

His baffled exclamation woke you at last, traces of fury still lingering on your brow. “What? Where—where is Pippin?”

Boromir raised an eyebrow. “The thieving rat, you mean? Sleeping soundly in his bedroll.”

“No, no, it’s a lie! My walking boots, Pippin stole them, he…he…” But your voice trailed off in confusion as your mind returned to you. Your eyes flickered down to your hands, still caught gently in his, then back up to his face.

Coughing hastily, Boromir withdrew. “You—you were dreaming.”

“Oh. Yes.” Groggily, you sat up and rubbed at your eyes. “Pippin stole my walking boots.”

Boromir stared at you for a long moment. You stared back. Then he was laughing, more heartily than he had in months—perhaps since he’d left Minas Tirith on this cursed journey in the first place. He rested his forearm on his bent knee, burying his head in the crook of his arm to stifle the sound.

Stretching out his other leg beside you, he met your gaze again at last, tears of mirth welling in his eyes. Your defensive scowl mollified him a bit, though he could not help smiling fondly at you.

“It made a great deal of sense in my mind, you know,” you protested. “Pippin grew jealous that hobbits wore no shoes, as the race of Man does. So he took my boots when I removed them for the night, put them on, and fled—oh, stop laughing, will you? You’ll wake the others!”

Boromir nodded, valiantly attempting to calm himself. “I had thought you beset by some great terror,” he admitted, “but I had not expected such betrayal from within our own Company.”

“It was not so dire as all that,” you muttered, looking embarrassed. “I had nearly caught him when you woke me.”

“Is that so?”

You nodded. “Pippin was unused to wearing boots. He ran like a dog trying to cross a frozen pond.”

For another moment, Boromir was lost again, chest heaving helplessly with silent laughter until you delivered a swift punch to his arm. “Ahem. Forgive me.” He had not meant to lose himself to your words like a drunken, lovesick youth. “Always you take me by surprise,” he said softly, in explanation.

“Yes, well. You are forgiven.” A shy smile played on your lips, and he beamed at the sight.

“Would that all our dreams were so lighthearted—that yours might remain so, though we journey into darkness.” On impulse, he took your hand in his again, squeezing warmly. “Would that I might protect you from—”

“From thieving hobbits?”

Valar, how he wanted to kiss you. “Yes, exactly.” He sent an exaggerated glower in Pippin’s direction, hoping to win more of your laughter.

But your smile had grown pensive, and you shook your head. “Have your dreams been so dark, then, Boromir?”

No one had asked him such a thing before, had ever given a thought to his dreams beyond the one that had brought him hither. “They have been, at times. But not tonight. I—” He looked away quickly, his traitorous mind supplying memories of his earlier dream in salacious, torturous detail. “Well. Pippin’s untimely theft woke me from it, in any case.”

“I’m sorry to have disturbed it,” you said. “He interrupted a more pleasant dream for me, too.”

“Oh?” He risked meeting your eyes again, but found that you were the one looking hurriedly away now. It was too dark to tell, but he thought a flush was rising to your cheeks.

“It’s—a dream I’ve had often before. There was no harm done, really.” Your hand fidgeted in his. “Boromir, I—I have not talked in my sleep before tonight, have I?”

“Not that I have heard,” he assured you, and your shoulders slumped in relief. He eyed you curiously for a moment more, but you offered no further explanation, your eyes still determinedly avoiding his. “I should let you return to your rest,” he said at length, “that such a dream might find you again.”

Now the heat on your face was obvious, even in the faint moonlight. “Thank you.” Meeting his eyes at last, you disentangled your hand from his, patting the back of his hand fondly before drawing away. “I wish you the same.”

“I...I will see you at dawn, then,” he said awkwardly, distracted by the heat of your fingers still sinking into his palm.

Smiling softly, you turned away and burrowed into your bedroll. “Oh, I hope to see you sooner than that,” you murmured. “Providing no thieving hobbits interrupt me again.”

It took a moment for your words to sink in. “What?” Boromir leaned over your bedroll again, blood thrumming in his ears—but your eyes were determinedly shut tight, the hand that had rested in his clutched tight to your chest. “Will you not speak plainly?” he demanded, and he swore a faint grin flickered over your lips.

“Goodnight, Boromir.” Your teasing voice was so faint that he nearly missed it, and he retreated to his blankets with his mind racing, his heart pounding, thoroughly defeated and thoroughly in love.

There was no chance of returning to his dreams of you now, he knew. In only a few words, you had robbed him of his sleep for the rest of the night—and likely many more nights to come.

#lotr fanfic #boromir #boromir x reader #yooo two fics in one week??#i'm on a rollllll baby #tolkien fanfic

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