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unnamedelement · 3 years

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even the WORDS studio ghibli steampunk inspired 4th age au is intriguing to me - I’d love to hear more about it!

I am so pleased you asked and I will talk about it forever. Basically, the idea is just something I write on--a paragraph or two here or there--when I'm feeling down and need a pick-me-up, though I haven't done so since May now as I've been so busy! It's set in a 4th Age Middle-earth in which all the basic things are the same, except that the technology advanced slightly differently, as if every major cultural and intellectual hub in history hadn't been wiped out in the first two ages. I mean, they have been, but the ideas were revisited and propagated instead. Which puts us in a bit of a steam era, a bit more modern warfare, I suppose (I imagine it as, like, Legend of Korra equivalent technology, but subtracting the radio broadcasting). I call it Studio Ghibli inspired because, in my head, thats the way its "animated," with similar color palettes to, say, Howls' Moving Castle, My Neighbor Totoro, and Spirited Away. The same sort of observational attention to detail, but not overwrought, and an air of the magical in the every day... It's really just a domestic sort of thing, with an added twist of the Straight Road being shut for purposes that aren't entirely clear to me yet but, somehow, tie into the technological aspect. It, at least, explains to me why the elves are so goddamn committed to technology and Middle-earth in the 4th age, in this universe, in a way that aren't in non-AUs because, well, Tolkien. The lore of this ridiculous sandbox is only very slowly evolving, but giving elves unresolvable sealonging is a certain type of hurt/comfort that is highly attractive to me. Whoops. And it is Legolas- and OC-focused, of course, because that's just who I am as a person. There is also a university in Minas Tirith because I say so, and because I need to project my woes about academia somewhere, but I try to justify this to myself by tying it into that preservation and propogation of knowledge aspect. Anyway, that was way more than you asked for! Ah well. Here is the first scene I ever wrote in this AU, because I've never actually shared it publicly, I don't think. I believe @roselightfairy has been the only one privy to my nonsensical AU drafts thus far! I usually just ramble about it in tags, but you caught me this time, ha. Thanks again for asking!

Legolas twisted the ring on his index finger distractedly as he waited for the train. It had been a long day in Minas Tirith and he was ready to return to Ithilien, to take in the rolling plains that edged the river as they flew past, for it was always only then that he could reflect, in uninterrupted silence, without hobbit tourists at his heels or the accidental shove of an impatient lady in the shops.

There were too many people in Minas Tirith for Legolas. Accordingly, and much to Aragorn and Gimli’s chagrin, it was not his favorite place.

But they understood, and that was all he could ask. He tried to schedule all of the city errands on the same day or two, because longer than thirty-six continuous hours in Minas Tirith and he became an absolute nightmare with which to coexist. For the most part, his friends and family had accepted this and he was trying, after all, but that did not make it any less obnoxious for the rest of them.

It did not help that the only place in Gondor with Sealonging-certified healers was on the fourth level of the city. A wildly insensitive choice, in his opinion, though he kept that perspective well enough to himself after Ithildim and Gimli had tried to advocate, a few years before, for the relocation of the clinic to the Healing Houses on the Sixth, in a string of rejected proposals at City Council.

Gimli would not look at Aragorn for a month after that, and so Legolas had quit his whingeing and suffered in silence the abrupt buffeting that occurred in the busy streets after his appointments. He made it his own prerogative to schedule at the end of the day so he could spend the morning with enough wherewithal to do his errands and take care of whatever sundry things he had managed to commit himself to. It kept him relatively sane and it kept his friends on speaking terms and, so, that is what he did. (And it was not as if any of them had control over the West-way being shut, so there was no point in any of them falling out over it.)

Legolas heard the heavy-huffing of the train approaching long before its lights rounded the bend of the river. He preferred to walk to the stop at the Docks than get on at the Gates because it gave his mind time to settle. Waiting that close to the river after therapy was, perhaps, not his brightest idea, but the pros outweighed the cons and what Ithildim didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him.

Besides, it was Summer, and the cattails were up again all around the station, and a family of osprey had made the light pole by the river their nest, and it did lift his spirits to watch these things alone as the world moved on about him...

A few more people rushed the small platform as the rumbling of the train on its little steel bridge above the banks increased. Legolas only readjusted his ring, unbuckled the satchel in his lap and rummaged around for the hardtack he had bartered for Ewessel. (She would have no idea how many pieces were there originally—what she didn’t know also wouldn’t hurt her). He was just tugging on the pair of oversized leather earmuffs Gimli had given him a few years prior when he started taking the train routinely when two pairs of very familiar shoes suddenly appeared in his line of sight, and he froze—

There was no point in hurrying—he had been found out so he adjusted his earmuffs and tucked the hardtack into his cheek, noticing vaguely that the sturdier pair of boots were well-shined and dirtless, while the more slender, elvish ones were caked in mud along the edges and splashed up the shins.

He had thought Ithildim was in the Emyn Arnen buildings today. He had seen him head off that way through the trees and he had obviously been there for that was forest mud and yet here he stood with Gimli, clearly just come from their Minas Tirith office so...

He had apparently been wrong. It would not be the first time he had lost track of other people’s schedules.

The train rolled up slowly, then, and Legolas finally looked up from his seat on the bench to find Gimli at eye level—glaring at him with arms crossed—and then, looking further up, was Ithildim—hair neatly pinned back despite his other uncharacteristic untidiness—and he looked down on him with a bemused and mildly irritated expression.

Legolas did his best to offer a guileless smile.

It did not work, and Ithildim pulled him to his feet. “I thought your appointment was at 4(?), auren.”

“It was,” he said, and he shrugged. He was tired and did not want to talk yet. “I prefer walking the plains for an hour or so after, to calm my mind. I did not know you would be here.”

“You do this every time?” Ithildim asked with eyebrows raised, and then Gimli was chivvying them forward as the train doors opened and the inward-bound commuters poured out and the outward-bound ones moved forward.

“I did not know you would be here,” Legolas only said, shrugging, as they found a small table in the back of the car and piled around it.

Ithildim opened his mouth to ask again but Gimli interrupted—

“That is answer enough, Ithildim,” he said softly. “Leave him be, hm?”

“But—”

“He is always back to himself by the time he gets home, is he not? Let him do what he needs to do. He is his own keeper, Ithildim.”

Legolas was no longer watching them, and he instead stared out the window as the train moved forward and he was rocked slightly as it picked up speed. He did not notice the sound of a crinkling bag or the half sandwich Gimli slid in front of him. He did not notice Ithildim watching him wearily but intermittently as he arranged his notes on the small table, comparing a neat chart to x’s drawn on a map spread across its surface.

Outside, the sun was dipping dark but his mind was far away, and his mouth felt dry as he finally blinked and turned away from the flashing landscape.

Gimli had placed a reassuring hand by his thigh as he leaned over Ithildim’s map, and Ithildim was watching him unashamedly, silver eyes narrowed as Legolas glanced at him.

He pulled a travel mug from his backpack and handed it across the table to him.

“I take medicine for this now, you know,” Legolas said quietly, and he considered the coffee and tilted his head, waiting for Ithildim’s reply.

“I know,” he said immediately. “But you have that look in your eye that you get when…”

“Ithildim, he is his own keeper,” Gimli interrupted firmly, and Ithildim looked away. “That being said, Master Elf, it is summer again—“

“I know that—“

“—and the weather folks are predicting a mighty storm this week, which is probably why you are like this.”

Legolas picked up the coffee without a word and reluctantly drank it, and he twisted his ring again as Gimli continued:

“I’ve told Aragorn again and again that he would be much better served employing you lot for storm prediction than the fellows he has but…” he trailed off, and Legolas smiled.

“But he thinks it is unethical to use a bunch of Sea-longing elves for the protection of king and country, yes,” Legolas finished. “Honestly, those of us who are afflicted are going to suffer whether or not he consults us, so I’ve never understood his reticence.”

Ithildim looked up again and was finally smiling. “You are a bit like a barometer, in that,” he admitted. “Gimli has a point here.”

Legolas laughed. “So, what? We wait until I become uncommunicative and morose and a general pain to be around, and then we send Aragorn a warning letter? What, set smoke signals?”

“This is our stop,” Gimli was saying as he folded up Ithildim’s map and notes and shoved them into his hands. He stood up and gestured at the elves to join him. “Normal people would use the message systems, Legolas, but since you refuse to—”

“Really, Gimli?” Ithildim had pulled Legolas to his feet and was dragging him by the hand out the door. The wind was heavy beneath the eaves of the trees that overhung their stop. “We are lucky he only uses birds. Otherwise it would be constant updates about the exchange rate of rye, or flash-pictures of bread, or flowery descriptions of some lady he met in the gardens!”

As they started down the side path to the houses they shared with Saida and the children Legolas laughed again. “It is mushrooms I am fascinated with right now, Ithildim. It is painfully obvious sometimes that you do not listen when I speak.”

“Mushrooms?” he asked, turning to Gimli.

“That is his current passion project, yes. Have you not been in the downstairs bathroom recently?”

“Thank you, elvellon. I am so relieved someone listens to me.”

“Eru, Legolas, you know the downstairs bathroom is supposed to be for Ewessel so she doesn’t slow anyone else down in the mornings.”

Legolas had walked past them now and was several feet ahead as the main house came into sight. He shrugged and turned, walking backward. “It was her idea, Ithildim. You can take it up with her. I am in her good graces now, and I am not playing with the fire of adolescence to tell her no on your behalf.”

Gimli was laughing now and then Legolas had turned and took off toward the house. By the time they arrived a few minutes later, the lights had all been turned on or lit and Legolas was at the kitchen table with Ewessel herself, helping her with her schoolwork.

He barely looked up as they entered. “Stew on the stove,” he said quietly, and Ithildim sighed to hear the distance in his voice.

The door swung in again as Saida came in with Alfirinion at her heels—

“Smells like rain,” she announced as she slipped off her shoes and dropped her bag to the ground.

Alfirinion was just unloading his bag and armful of books onto the table inside the door when the house shook with a loud crash of thunder, and the building sound of rain—gentle to pounding and persistent—began to beat at the house.

Ewessel looked at Legolas, who had gone still beside her, and turned to her family. “I have known for days it would rain tonight. He is better than any weather report, if you are paying attention.”

“Ewessel,” Saida said with quiet admonishment, and she walked up and pressed a kiss to her niece’s forehead before settling down beside Legolas. “How about an early night?” she said to him quietly. “We can talk about our project tomorrow evening.”

Legolas cleared his throat and looked at his hands. “Yes, I think that would be good. The table isn’t…”

“Ewessel will set the table, won’t she?” Saida said lightly, and Ewessel closed her ledger and sprang to her feet. The dining room and kitchen were suddenly in motion and Legolas sat silent in his seat, until he dropped his head, defeated, into his hands, waiting for the sound of the rain to stop sounding like the crashing of waves at the shore.

“Tell us next time you notice, child,” he could hear Saida saying from the stove, and there was muttering under breath before Ewessel and Alfirinion were back in the room, placing a bowl at each seat.

There was the scraping of chairs around him, and then the feel of a cool glass pressed against his hand.

“It is just water, Legolas,” Ithildim was saying at his shoulder. “Drink, auren. The wide world is still here.”

And so he drank and ate and listened to his friends talk.

Alfirinion had had an argument with a peer at Rangers (though he had won, because debate team and shadowing Arwen over the summer had apparently paid off), and Ewessel was displeased no one wanted to see her forestry project (which, to be fair, was a log covered in mushrooms she had taken from Legolas’ project in the bathroom, so no one was particularly empathetic). Saida had made progress on curriculum redesign in her department at the main university, and Gimli and Ithildim had gotten clearance to start a project they were partnering on, to bring heated, running water to a new town outside Osgiliath.

Legolas, however, had only made stew. Had run errands for the family and for his business. Had gone to his appointment. Had lost himself to the wind and left his family fumbling.

But the stew was, at least, enjoyed, and that was better than nothing...

After dinner, everyone gathered in the sitting room to listen to Alfirinion practice his closing arguments for his competition and, eventually, Legolas fell asleep between Ithildim and Gimli on the couch. The last thing he was aware of was someone slipping headphones over his ears and dropping the needle on the phonograph so his senses were flooded with crackling birdsong, and then there was a blanket about his shoulders, and he was gone.

#nerysvevo #asks #my au #my fanfiction #this fic has accidentally gotten a plot tho which made me mad #because i was writing it to be comforting #but it is fun #and i wish i had the art skills to illustrate it #because it is absolutely and unbelievably a beautiful little world in my head!#long post #sry

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legolasbadass · 3 years

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Thanks for the tag @lordoftherazzles!💙

Find me on ao3:)

Fandoms: I only write for the Tolkien fandom, but I used to write for the Harry Potter fandom back in high school too:)

Two-shot: I’ve never done a two-shot, but maybe one day!

Most popular multi-chapter: Well, since Heart of Gold is my only multi-chapter fic, it’s gotta be that one😉

Actual worst part of writing: my obsession with details that don’t matter that much. Just this week, I had to use the word ‘eucalyptus’ to describe the smells in a room and then I got frustrated because the word comes from Ancient Greek and well obviously they don’t have Greece in middle earth so how would they get that word? (I know I’m crazy) I’m fine with it now though, I’m just telling myself that Tolkien wrote the books like he was translating ancient texts so let’s just pretend I’m using the modern word for it😂

How you choose titles: oh boy, it really depends on the context. Obviously titles have to reflect something of importance to the story, but that can be anything from a character’s line, a place, an event, or even a quote from another book, to just something kinda abstract that, for me, reflects the plot of the chapter or even just what I think is the main theme.

Do you outline: I outline most of the stories, but I leave myself a lot of room because I like to allow my characters to drive the story and so that can lead me into some unknown directions.

Ideas you probably won’t get to but wouldn’t it be nice: I will get to it one day, I hope (when I find the time), but I have an idea for an enemies to lovers thorin fic that includes a scene where thorin and the reader/oc have to share a bed for warmth (I know really cliché lol)

Callouts @ yourself: Nobody cares about the origin of words when reading a fic and no one is going to hate me if I use a term that is slightly anachronistic!

Best writing traits: Uhhhh idk lol, anyone wanna help me out with this one?😂

I think I’ve gotten pretty good at writing dialogue. And also maybe I’m good at making the setting reflect a character’s interiority (that is, I’ll have whatever a certain character is feeling influence the way they see what is around them)

Tagging @lathalea @gwen-ever @thewarriorandtheking @fizzyxcustard @shethereadinghobbit @vee-vee-writes and anyone else who wants to do this:)

#tag games

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theartofbeinganeldar · 4 years

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The Art of Being An Eldar: Legolas x Reader Chapter 3

Summary: You, a fantasy-loving LARPing human from Earth, got dropped into a fantasy land that seems familiar to you, but you had no recollection of it. Lord Fabulous Elvenking gave you three days to find the portal that would take you home with the aide of Blue-Eyes and a host of Elves, but what you found instead was the portal was closed for another thousand years. On the way back, you saved Legolas's life, prompting Thranduil to grant you freedom, and after, you finally realized where you were; Middle-Earth. Thranduil summons the council, which is made up of powerful wizards and Elves, to decide what should be done with you...

Chapter No.: Chapter 3

Key: [Y/N]=Your Name [F/N]= Friend's Name [B/N]= Bro's Name [S/N]= Sis's Name [M/N]= Mom's Name [e/c]= eye color [h/c]= hair color [s/c]= skin color

Notes: I think Pippin's song matches the reader's situation very much, which is why I use it so often. I mean, your character fell from everything they know, their "home," and now they can't go back, but now they have this whole magical world and life ahead of them... Grief and sorrow, but things to look forward to in the future.

Warnings: Fluff, angst, graphic depictions of gore and violence (Cuz of orc battles y'know?), more angst, slow burn, some light depression in the first few chapters, some amnesia about Middle-Earth because the Valar say you're not supposed to have foresight, hard-core language, feels, lots and lots of feels, mentions of NSFW content, maybe some eventual NSFW content, LGTBQ+ characters, Thranduil being a jackass at first because he's fabulous, Legolas being a hot edgy prince that nobody can handle, Kili being an innocent bean, Hobbits being smol innocent beans, except for Bilbo 'cause he's been through some tough shit, Bard being dad of the year, Thorin being one dumbass boi, The fucking Silmarillion, awesome dragons, awesome Nazgul, awesome scenery, awesome stuff in general, Elrond isn't listened to by anybody, confused Aragorn is confused, Denethor's a bitch as always, brace yourself for creepy as fuck Cream of Wormtongue Grima Wormtongue, Boromir lives, Gandalf. (yes these are all legit warnings don't judge me.)

Pairings/Ships: Legolas x Reader, Legolas x you, Aragorn x Arwen, Faramir x Eowyn, Thranduil x Elvenqueen, Galadriel x Celery Celeborn, Boromir x OC, Thorin x OC, Fili x OC, etc. general LoTR standard shippings plus some of my own cuz I can't stand my boys being lonely

Word Count: I try to keep my chapters short, under 2000 words.

Rating: Teen (14+) for now

When you woke up, you found yourself blinded by a stupidly bright light that singed your retinas off. "What the hell?" You shielded your eyes as you tried to find the source.

Oh.

It was Thranduil, and beside him, Legolas, the two so bright they could be hung on your porch as bug-zappers.

Ohhhh...

You were in Middle-Earth. Right. Without any memory of it except for bits and pieces. You did remember that you'd watched the movies so many times that you could've recited each line in your sleep and then some, but you couldn't remember anything but what pieces you randomly dreamed of or remembered, which were already starting to fade.

"Hi. Can I help you with something in my half-starved state?"

Blue-Eyes desperately fought a smirk. Thranduil was less impressed. "My son tells me you lost consciousness because of a lack of sustenance. What sort of repayment is that for my favor to you, may I ask?"

You cocked an eyebrow. "Excuse the fuck outta you, Thrandy, but I just learned about a week and a half ago I'd never see my family again. Forgive me if I got upset."

Blue-Eyes turned his head away, trying really hard not to laugh...

"Also," You went on with a forced cocky smile, "I just learned that I'm in Middle-Earth. Where I come from, all this-- the palace, the land, even your fancy Elven toilets-- were created by some old guy called J. R. R. Tolkien, collectively referred to as 'Jrrt.' Now, I don't remember a goddamn thing except for bits and pieces of dialogue and song, even though I knew the stories by heart."

Thranduil and Blue-Eyes-- who was no longer trying not to laugh-- eyed each other suspiciously. "You knew of this place in your world?"

You nodded. "It's very well-known. But, everybody thinks it's fiction. Unaccesible. And be glad about that, too, because if there were a well-known way to get here, there'd be lots of war, new diseases, and this place would be turned to shit, too."

Thranduil stared at you for a minute, before abruptly turning to Legolas. "Son, I am off to the throne room. I shall summon the council at once."

You waited until he left to ask what that meant.

Blue-Eyes smiled slightly. "Meaning, he is not quite certain what should be done with you. The council is made up of some of the oldest and wisest of Middle-Earth, including the wizards and those of my kin, Lady Galadriel and Lord Celeborn of Lothlorien, and Elrond Half-Elven of Rivendell. Do any of those names sound familiar to you?"

You shrugged. "It doesn't matter if they sound familiar or not. I never remember what anybody looks like. I just get an eerie sense of deja vu."

Blue-Eyes raised an eyebrow. "Deja... Vu?"

You sat up more, rolling your eyes. "It means having a sense of familiarity, like, really strongly. Whatever. Tell me who the wizards are."

Blue-Eyes sat at the end of your bed. "The most powerful of the wizards is Saruman the White, who resides in Isengard, on the edge of Fangorn Forest and the Gap of Rohan. The second is Mithrandir, who is most commonly known as Gandalf the Gray by most folk. The third is the much less-known-of and reclusive Radagast the Brown, but I doubt my father will request his presence; he dislikes his excessive behavior." He raised an eyebrow. "Have you heard of them?"

You nodded absentmindedly. "Yeah. So if I'm an Elf, do I like, have to learn how to act like an Elf, or should you let these really important people decide what to do after they've seen who I am?"

"The latter," Blue-Eyes specified, "But it would still be beneficial to learn Elvish. It should take them quite awhile to arrive; between now and then, you should learn as much of it as possible, after I've given you a tour of Mirkwood."

You made a wheel-like motion with your hands. "After I've eaten and taken a bath, I know."

Blue-Eyes patted your leg. A jolt of electricity shot from where he touched you. What the hell? "Good," He stood and started to leave the room. "I will leave you to your own; there is food on the nightstand, and after, a bath across the bridge there," He pointed, and as you looked across the way seen Elves.

Bathing.

Blushing, you looked to Blue-Eyes wildly. "I-I'm supposed to take a bath with other people."

Blue-Eyes frowned in confusion. "Do you not, from your world?"

"Um, no. We all bathe alone. Where I come from, one's own body is considered... Private, to everybody except your doctor or significant other."

"Oh, I see. I could have a private bath prepared for you, if you wish for it," He answered with a smile. "Even here, we may want to bathe on our own to relax. It would not be a problem." He sneered down at you. "I would not want you bathing in the shared springs anyway. You'd dirty the whole lot of them."

With a very childish glare, you stuck your tongue out at him, causing him to have the oddest look he'd had yet. You'd noticed something about him; he had the unique ability to create a range of dynamically comical expressions. "What are you doing?"

You took up a dramatically serious tone. "I am expressing the 'fuck you' gesture in an immature and childish manner used worldwide, even among the youngest." With that, you stuck your tongue out again.

Legolas rolled his eyes. "Very well, then, Sairen, your bath will be ready for you when you are finished with your meal. I will send someone for you in an hour, if that suits you."

"That suits me perfectly fine, but I beg your fucking pardon, was that 'fuck you' in Elvish?"

Legolas grinned. "Not at all, mellon. It means 'fiery' in our tongue."

"Okay." A wry smile spread across your face. "That I can deal with. But what does 'melon' mean? Both you and Tauriel have called me that so far."

Legolas smiled as he began to close the double-doors, though what they did to block you when the room had only two-foot tall walls, you had no idea. "Mellon. It means, 'my friend.'"

A warm feeling blossomed in your chest as he smiled-- for once, genuinely-- at you. You found yourself smiling back as he closed your doors. When he was gone, your smile toned down a bit, and you took a long, deep breath.

You were still upset. Very. On the inside, you felt torn to pieces. You figured it would be a long, long time before you grief lessened, if it ever did. But now that you knew where you were... It was different. You were sure of something. Where you were, and the fact that the Firemoon Portal would only open every thousand years. If you went back then, you'd already be connected to this world, and everyone in it. If time passed the same, your family would be gone, and you'd be mortal again, without a way to wait for the portal to reopen so that you could return to your new friends here.

But... You knew your family. They'd never forget you, and never stop grieving your loss. But, if they thought you might be somewhere better than Earth, and there was no way back... They'd want you to be happy. They'd want you to make a new life. They wouldn't want you to waste your life starving yourself.

You'd miss them... More than anything...

But for now...

You moved the silver platter on your nightstand to your lap, and started eating.

Home is behind...

The world ahead...

And there are many paths to tread...

***

"No, no," Tauriel corrected you. "Mae govannen."

"Mae govAHnnen."

Tauriel bit back an exasperated sigh. "Well... You're close enough."

You'd been in Mirkwood for nearly a month now, not counting the days of your imprisonment and searching for the portal. You wondered what made Thranduil (Who you still called 'Lord Fabulous' on occassion.) release you and treat you as an Elf, and as it turns out, it was Blue-Eyes himself.

Speaking of, you hadn't seen him in days... He kind of... Disappeared. There was still talk of him, and no one seemed to be worried, so you weren't; for Elves that lived forever, you bet anything that he had princely exploring and regular adventuring to do to keep him occupied.

Around the time he left, Tauriel approached you and asked if you knew any Elvish. Aside from sairen and mellon, you knew less than zero. Apparently, it was considered good Elven manners to at least speak a greeting to guests in their own language, despite what Leggy had said. Meaning, to different members of the council, you had to speak a greeting in Quenyan-- which was different from Sindarin, the most common Elvish language-- Common, and Sindarin. You'd memorized the lines, but it was the pronunciation that really befuddled your non-billingual ass.

Now, you'd pretty much gotten the Quenyan greeting: Mae govannen. It meant well met or something along those lines, but you had to add Lord Elrond Half-Elven of Rivendell. I am at your service. Which was much longer and much more complicated. All in all, it pretty much came out to, Mae govannen, Cundo Elrond Peresta-Elda mi Arcimbele. Nanye ketya veume.

English (Common.) was equally as long: Greetings, Gandalf the Gray, Mithrandir, and Saruman the White of Isengard. Welcome to these halls. I am at your service as well, should you need it.

And lastly, to Lady Galadriel and Lord Celeborn, you had to say the most: And ana lye, Heri Galadriel and Cundo Celeborn, elen sila lumenn omentielvo. Nanye aistana et ketya toled.

And to you, Lady Galadriel and Lord Celeborn, a star shines upon the hour of our meeting. I am blessed from your coming.

It was all a mouthful. A regal, elegant mouthful, but a mouthful that your tongue had trouble forming. In addition to all the greetings, you had to address them each in order; first Elrond, then the wizards, then Galadriel and Celeborn at once.

They'd arrived a few days ago, but you hadn't actually been summoned yet. You wondered what Thranduil had told them about you so far. He seemed like the type to exaggerate and make shit up: They're nothing but an abomination! They almost killed Legolas! They tried to kill me! They're dangerous and should be restrained! They toilet-papered my throne room!

The elaborate horns blowing signaled something evidently important; Tauriel's face lit up. "Mellon, it is Legolas! He has returned!"

Despite yourself, your heart jumped like a schoolgirl's. Blue-Eyes was back! "Really?! How do I look? Does it look like I've been taking care of myself?" Legolas would kill you if you weren't. Over the weeks, the blue hair dye had left your hair, returning it to its [h/c] color, even if you did still spike it up-- you'd been an outcast your whole life, so having short spiky hair when everybody else had long, flowing hair made you feel at home. You were dressed in dark browns, nearly blacks, in an outfit very similar to a tunic over leggings, knee-high boots, and all finished up with a long jacket, closed with Elven buckles.

"You look fine, [Y/N]," Tauriel assured you absentmindedly, and the two of you trotted down the many, many stairs and bridges to get to the massive front doors of the palace.

Thranduil and a host of other Elves were greeting Legolas, who looked as if he'd been in Sparkle Land for the last couple weeks. His clothes were in prestine condition. His hair was perfectly plaited away from his face. He wore a faint smile, as if whatever he'd been doing hadn't been stressful at all.

You and Tauriel arrived just as Thranduil finished speaking. "And you failed to locate them?"

Legolas held himself regally. "My apologies, my king. It will not happen again."

Thranduil glared down at him. "I should hope not. You will leave again in three days' time, after you have properly greeted our guests." As Thranduil spun on his heel to leave, Blue-Eyes bowed, rising up again as he seen you and Tauriel.

"Tauriel," He said, his face lighting up. She bowed slightly; apparently Elves didn't hug. He grinned snarkily when he seen you. "And [Y/N]. Last I saw you, your hair was strangely sky-hued."

You scoffed. "You can't even say sky-colored? You have to say sky-hued? Stupid Elves and their fancy ways. Good to see ya anyway, Blue-Eyes, even if you're a priss."

"I believe you mean prince."

You laughed, but it faded when he turned to Tauriel and started speaking in Elvish. He lead her away, talking, leaving you on your own. Your face fell. You wanted to tell him that you knew some greetings. You wanted to say you wanted to go with him when he left again. And the fact that you were already alone here only amplified the feeling of... Jealousy? Disappointment?

You watched them leave for a minute, before deciding you'd take a walk in the Mirkwood-- maybe it'd clear your mind. You nearly rammed into an Elf in turning around. "Whoops."

"Nothing to apologize for," the Elf said; thankfully, they'd caught on to Earth slang and understood you most of the time, instead of just assuming you were insulting them. "Thranduil Elvenking has summoned you to his councilroom. The council awaits you."

Your mouth went dry. All the feelings about Legolas ignoring you vanished in an instant. Oh shit. "I-I don't know where that is. You'll take me there, right?"

"Of course," Said the Elf, and lead the way through the twisting halls. He stopped before the one room of the palace that was actually sealed off from the rest besides the dungeons, with doors almost as big as the ones that lead out of the palace. "Here you are. They're waiting for you." He smiled slightly. "A word of advice for the introductions: let King Thranduil introduce you to them before you say your greetings." You bowed slightly in the Elven way as you thanked him.

You'd be lying if you said you weren't nervous as hell. Meeting a bunch of people, really important people... You'd met some important people before: soldiers were the main ones you'd met, aside from a couple of astronauts. Other than that...

Taking a hugely amplified deep breath, you opened the door.

Inside was a wide winding staircase lit by gorgeously-crafted Elven wall sconces of stained glass and copper metalwork shaped into vines. Every step seemed to echo, and when you reached the top of the staircase, your breath was ripped from you. It was a pavilion. A pavilion in the one place you loved above all else: the sky.

Rails kept anybody from falling off, and it was roofed, so that you could come up here even in the rain. Birds chirped melodiously, and from here, you felt as if you could see all of Middle-Earth. Behind you was a huge mountain range-- you'd never seen mountains before. They were beautiful, snow-capped, and gigantic; the Misty Mountains, obviously. All around you, stretching as far as you could see south and a long way east and west and north, was the Mirkwood, and to the west and north were vast plains, hills, and valleys. Leaves, gold and copper, swirled around the pavilion, giving it an ethereal look. To the west, where you were facing, was a silver lake, wide and glittering in the midday sun. Standing tall and proud beside it was Erebor, home to the King Under the Mountain; currently, Thror. You didn't know why that name seemed so important, though.

You must've turned around in at least a dozen three-sixties, trying to take in what you were seeing. Even if you didn't remember most of it, here you were. You were seeing it, for real and for true, in person, in the home of one of the most revered Elves of Middle-Earth. It seemed unreal, like at any moment, you'd wake up.

A bird, queerly tame, flitted up by your face and up into the rafters; she carried food for her young, and you watched them with a smile, still in disbelief of the views.

A long sigh snapped you out of your trance. Shit. Thranduil waved at you absentmindedly. "Are you daft, vermin? I just introduced you to the council."

"O-oh--"

"Now, now, Thranduil," A wizard chuckled warmly; he wore blue and gray robes, with an immense beard and long hair. Gandalf. "If they really are of another world, then they are obviously stunned by the land. Have you not shown them their new home properly?"

Thranduil nobly facepalmed.

Meanwhile, you realized that it wasn't just Gandalf sitting there smoking his pipe.

Another wizard, this one with long, straight white hair and an equally perfect white beard, in blinding white robes with a white staff: Saruman the White. You didn't know why you got bad vibes from this guy. Beside him sat another Elf, casually, an ankle on his knee and an elbow resting on his higher leg to hold up his head with two fingers. He wore robes of brown and purple, and his long brown hair was held back with a silver Elvish circlet. That had to be Elrond; he looked amused, so you felt kind of relieved. On his left sat a guy who practically glowed, with long blonde hair and white and blue robes. Celeborn. Standing off to the side, with a kind smile like Gandalf, in a billowy white dress with a beautiful Elven circlet made of fine chains and teardrop jewels was a woman, a she-Elf, putting off wisdom-vibes stronger than Gandalf's. Her curling golden hair went well past her waist, and she held herself regally. Out of everyone in this room, she seemed to be the oldest, and the most knowledgeable.

Your Elvish greetings flew right out of your head for a minute, before Thranduil reintroduced you. "This is the council. With us are wizards Saruman the White and Gandalf the Gray, Lord Elrond of House Rivendell, and Lady Galadriel and Lord Celeborn of Lothlorien. Councilmembers, this is [Y/N], the one who appeared from a portal we knew nothing of-- and if I must repeat this once more, I swear to the Valar, I shall throw you off of this pavilion."

Gandalf actually chuckled at that, as did Elrond, while Celeborn cracked a smile. Galadriel seemed to find this all regally amusing. You bowed like Tauriel had showed you. At least, you'd mastered that part. "Mae govannen, Cundo Elrond Peresta-Elda mi Arcimbele. Nanye ketya veume. Greetings, Gandalf the Gray, Mithrandir, and Saruman the White of Isengard. Welcome to these halls. I am at your service as well, should you need it. And ana lye, Heri Galadriel and Cundo Celeborn, elen sila lumenn omentielvo. Nanye aistana et ketya toled."

Elrond looked impressed. "Well, Thranduil, you have certainly trained them well." Thranduil watched you with wide eyes. He hadn't known of your lessons. Suck it, Lord fucking Fabulous.

Celeborn bowed his head. "Your pronunciation is nearly perfect. Well done, young one. However, I doubt you know much else of our tongue yet, so for your sake, we shall converse in Common, if that suits you."

You almost said, It does. Thanks! But that sounded too disrespectful. "Thank you very much." You smiled, and took a seat when Thranduil waved you to the only empty one aside from Galadriel's.

Saruman started off with a wary tone. "Thranduil tells us you come from another world. Is this true?"

Out of the corner of your eyes, you seen Thranduil roll his eyes. "Yes, sir. I come from a place called Earth."

The councilmembers exchanged glances. "That sounds strikingly similar to Middle-Earth," Said Gandalf, and raised an eyebrow. "Are there any similarities between this world, and yours?"

You shook your head sadly. "Not anymore. My people ruined it. There aren't many places like this anymore."

Saruman stiffened. "Then what happens if your people find the portal? Surely, they will try to ruin this, as well?"

You made a face. "They would, yeah, but my people are also really stupid. It'd take a stupid accident and a lot of chance to fall through that portal again, and Legolas said that it only opened once every time a Firemoon happens."

"Legolas?" Elrond asked, curiously, as if this hadn’t been mentioned before. Of course it hadn’t.

You nodded, unsure of why you suddenly had to fight a flush at the mention of his name. "He helped me find the portal with some of his Elven friends when I first got here. We found writing-- he said it was used before the time of even Gondolin. I don't know when that is; is that a long time ago?"

"Very," Replied Gandalf. "Odd... A portal of that magnitude would have to be created by wizards of some sort, especially at such a time..."

A thought suddenly popped into your head. "Some people think we have magic," You piped up, and all eyes were suddenly on you. "But it never works. Not effectively. Just standard hocus-pocus and the power of suggestion. But hundreds of years ago, there was this really mysterious guy who they say really did have magic, which he used to help others. His name was Merlin; he looked kinda like you, Gandalf. But he was in another country, where I come from; where I was when I fell wasn't anywhere near where he traveled."

Saruman narrowed his bird-like eyes. "Then what relevance is this?"

"Because if there was one wizard like you guys in the past," You pointed out, "Why couldn't there be others? There's so much we don't know about history-- we're more intent on wiping out what we don't understand. What if the wizards traveled between worlds and time? Hell, they could be you guys from the future, and it just hasn't happened yet."

"They have a point, Saruman," Gandalf agreed, much to your relief. You didn't think they'd understand the concept of time travel.

"There is nothing we can do about the portal now," Elrond said decisively. "It is closed, and if we tried to destroy it, we could only do damage. It is an easy enough position to defend; should an army come through, they'd have only one entryway."

"Says who?" Saruman challenged. "There could be other portals we do not know of, some that people have not had the misfortune of falling into yet. How do we know that this invader is not a spy to seek out these portals and prepare them for war?"

You fought a sigh. Damn this small-minded son of a bitch... You tried to think of something smart ass to say, but nothing fit the situation.

"They are not, Saruman." Lady Galadriel's voice was sudden, light, and smooth, like honey. It radiated outward with an undeniable power that could make anybody listen to her. "Their thoughts do not lead there." Shit. I mean crap. I mean dang. Mind reader. "They are afraid, and worried... They miss the family they left behind, but they are willing to make a life here, since they have no way of returning."

You nodded. "My thanks, my lady."

Lady Galadriel bowed her head in response.

"Build a life?" Saruman inspected you carefully from where he sat. "You are nothing but an infiltrator. Why should we allow you a place among the citizens of Middle-Earth?"

"It does not have to be here," Thranduil pointed out, and your heart shot to your ankles. "You have an unfortunate habit of collecting needy strays, Elrond; why don't you take them with you when you return to Rivendell?"

Elrond shot him a glare.

Um, I think the fuck not. Lady Galadriel, tell them I say no! Tell them I want to stay here! You thought of the views, and of... of Blue-Eyes...

"Perhaps they should be isolated," Saruman said. "Somewhere they cannot concoct any mischief. Rohan is quite strict, as Gondor is watchful. Either would suffice. Perhaps centuries of isolation in Isengard itself would keep them in line."

"Maybe the Shire would be good for them," Gandalf said. "The hobbits are quite peaceful little creatures. Then again, if isolation is what we are looking for, then Laketown couldn't be better. Or Dale; the dwarves don't let anyone commit any mischief from Erebor."

I don't want to leave...

"Lothlorien would perhaps be suitable," Celeborn added. "Or, maybe even the mines of Moria. I do not have much love for dwarves, but they would be kind enough to them."

"What," Interrupted Galadriel, "Does the subject of our conversation think of this?"

Silence fell. You took a deep breath. "I... I'd like to stay here." You seen Thranduil's head turn slowly to look at you, and you could hear him thinking, the fuck did you just say? "Please, my lord."

A tense silence fell over the room. Finally, Thranduil sighed. "I do not want you here, invader. You would have to prove your loyalty and skill beyond a shadow of a doubt."

You perked up. "Legolas is going on some super-secret missions, right? Maybe I could go with him. You trust him of all people to tell you the truth about me, right? So maybe I could prove myself then."

Thranduil thought about this for a moment. "Legolas is hunting for the orcs who are trying to overtake our borders. He found them, but he let them escape, even though they were a small group. He is leaving in three days with reinforcements; you may join him."

You almost visibly sagged with relief. Almost.

"However," Thranduil added, "If I find his report unsatisfactory, you will go with one of the councilmembers and leave Mirkwood. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes, sir."

"Good."

Elrond nodded to you. "You would have a home in Rivendell. It is the last safe haven of the Elves in Middle-Earth." He gave Thranduil a pointed sideways glance. "My people are welcoming and kind. They would be glad to have you." With a slight roll of his eyes, he gestured to Gandalf. "And of course, Mithrandir..."

Gandalf looked excited. "I would take you on my journeys with me, if you so desired. First, I would take you to the Shire. Very nice people, those hobbits. And of course, dwarves would be next."

"I thank you both," You smiled slightly, and you truly were grateful, but... "Then it is settled," Thranduil said authoritively. "Elrond, Gandalf, you are welcome to stay here until Legolas returns."

"I would be grateful," Elrond said, but Gandalf defiantly snorted. "I, dear Elvenking, already have arranged for lodgings in Laketown. Send for me once they arrive, so that I may know what I must do."

You felt buoyed a little. Gandalf didn't one-hundred-percent think you'd fail. And you wouldn't. You'd kick ass. You'd save Blue-Eyes's ass again. You'd come back triumphant, and Thranduil would have to let you stay.

Wouldn't he?

Thranduil left first with Elrond and Celeborn, followed by Gandalf and Saruman closely. Galadriel looked out over to the lake, all shiny and pretty and with her hair billowing majestically. "Why do you wish to stay among those who do not wish for your presence?"

You were stunned by the question. "I-I don't know... I've lived all my life an outcast... The hated one... I've just grown used to it. Being somewhere where people would be nice to me makes me uncomfortable. But there are a couple of people nice to me, and that's enough."

Galadriel was silent for a moment. "You think of him."

"Uhhh..."

"The prince."

You did blush this time. "I-I don't--"

"You are one of the Eldar now, mellon," Galadriel stated slowly. "Eldar only fall in love once. I have known many who have been broken by that which is unrequited. Do not be one of them."

You thought about her words for a second. "I don't love him... I don't even have like a crush on him or anything..." I've only known him for a couple days, overall.

Galadriel nodded slightly into the breeze. "Sieze it, if the chance arises. But if it does not, or if you do not think it will... I advise you to seek for a home elsewhere." You got the gist. If I do fall for him on my mission, and I know it won't go anywhere... Leave, even if I succeed.

Your heart was heavy at that thought, but you knew she was right. "Thank you, my lady."

"You need not thank a friend for giving advice." She smiled at you, and you left the pavilion with a deep bow, trying desperately not to let your heartstrings fall apart.

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helplesslyfictional · 5 years

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Loki Fanfiction - Remember the Old Ways, Chapter 9 - “Just Hidden”

Author’s Note: I'm aliiiiiiive! That's right, my darling readers, I'm back to update. I hit a creative wall along with a bad stint of depression, only briefly stepping out with a burst of inspiration yesterday. Updating this fanfic is incredibly important to me, so I'll be working hard on another update in a week. However, because my mental health is the most important thing, I'm not going to be pushing myself too hard to meet my (self-given) deadlines. I do hope that you enjoy this. I didn't expect the progression to go quite like this, just like Tolkien didn't expect some of his plot twists until he wrote them. I can't wait to bring the next chapter to you all!

Chapter Summary: Loki's connection to Time strengthens with new visions, exposing painful truths and lies. Pairings: None! These stories are focused on family relationships.

What characters, then? Loki, Thor, Odin, Frigga, OCs [Sophia] [Forsetti], Heimdall

When? Pre-Thor 2011: From Asgard to Earth, will go through Thor 2011 Chapter Warnings: Mature themes, non-specific descriptions of battlefield and explosions, emotional trauma, anxiety

Taglist: @loki-the-fox; @i-am-loki-and-now-i-speak-up; @trickster-grrrl; @deviantredhead; @mylokabrennauniverse; @leanmeanand-green; @juliabohemian; @latent-thoughts; @lucianalight; @nox-th-lk-sf; @be-a-snake-stab-your-brother; @myart-reviews Please let me know if you would like to be added/removed from tags and I’m more than happy to do so!

AO3 story link; Wattpad; Promo/Master Post (please share if you like the fic!)

tumblr: Chapter 1 / Chapter 2 / Chapter 3 / Chapter 4 / Chapter 5 / Chapter 6 /Chapter 7 / Chapter 8

“Loki.”

Loki’s eyes fluttered open as he tried to wake up.

“Loki?”

A woman’s voice - was it Mother?

Then his memories rushed back, putting the voice in its place. Sophia. Turning over, he saw her shadowed figure next to his bed. “What is it?” he asked, squinting a little bit as his eyes adjusted to the light.

“You said if I was overwhelmed to let you know,” she said softly.

Ah, right. Given that she hadn’t come back before he went to bed, he’d almost forgotten. “What can I do to help?” He didn’t want to suggest anything that might be taken the wrong way - her comfort was of paramount importance right now after she’d summoned that memory.

Sophia really shouldn’t have done that, but, in her defense, he was careless at times with experimentation. It was the joy of the unknown, the unexpected, that made such methodology exciting. Even with this new relationship, this new person, he was exploring, watching, learning, and reacting. It was thrilling after the stagnant air of palace life.

She moved a little, the moonlight revealing her face. “I’m not sure what you can do - I suppose even just being with you makes me feel less alone. More safe. But I have to sleep, or I’ll feel worse in the morning.”

“I’ll come to you,” Loki said slowly, stretching, “and keep you company until you fall asleep.”

She nodded, and he closed his eyes to focus on her bedroom. When he opened his eyes again, he had to steady himself against a bedpost. It was disorienting to go from sitting to standing so suddenly. Sophia was clutching her blankets around her, her form diminutive in comparison to to the size of her bed.

He thought briefly about commenting on the awkwardness of the situation, then decided against it. Carefully, unsure of how this form would interact with its surface, he sat on the bed, crossing his legs.

Sophia shifted to lie down, looking up at him. “Thank you,” she said softly. “This means a lot to me.”

“You’re welcome,” he responded. Though he was tired, the few hours he had gotten were more than enough to last him for a while. He’d already woken up once that night with a nightmare about his demise, so he didn’t mind being awake for the rest of the day. Though in some ways Thor’s vision assured him he’d live for eight years, the irrational part of him somehow feared he would die in his sleep.

Sophia closed her eyes, but after a few moments she frowned and opened her eyes. A deep-seated fear was coming from within her. Pursing her lips, her hazel eyes met his gaze. “Please - I hate to ask, but could you stay after I fall asleep? I just...I don’t know…” Her voice trailed off as she squeezed her eyes shut. “It’s silly, I’m sorry.”

Loki understood too well. In many ways, he didn’t want to be alone at present either. “I’ll stay,” he said softly. “I won’t leave until you ask, if that’s what you want.”

Tears welled up in Sophia’s eyes as he felt her overwhelming relief. Reaching out, he took her hand and squeezed it.

It was what he’d want if he was in the same position.

She gave him a smile, relaxing as her eyes fluttered closed. A few more tears came, a sniffle, and then her breathing deepened as she started to fall asleep.

Leaning back, Loki surveyed the room, which was quite dark with no windows. Then, not wanting to disturb her, he worked on the thought exercises his mother had taught him to hone his mind for magic. He didn’t particularly like to do them, but it would help pass the time.

At one point, Sophia’s breathing quickened and she stirred. Undoubtedly she was dreaming. It seemed to be a nightmare, however, as she began twitching, her breath becoming rapid. Loki reached out and put his hand in hers. Images flashed through his mind, snapshots of buildings crumbling, the earth rending apart. Despite the feelings that came with them, he continued to hold her hand, wishing her peace.

After a few moments, her fingers tightened around his, her muscles relaxing.

As the light underneath her door began to grow brighter, he heard the sound of footfalls upstairs. After a particularly sharp noise, Sophia stirred, opening her eyes, then glancing up at him.

“Oh my god,” she said, “You stayed.”

“Of course.”

She propped herself up on her elbows. “Thank you, Loki. I slept better, I think.”

Loki briefly thought about asking about her nightmare, but decided against it. Let her focus on her pleasure at his presence instead of the darkness.

“Don’t you need sleep?” she asked. “You don’t seem tired.”

“We only really need sleep to refresh our energies, not as a biological necessity,” he said, straightening, stretching his neck. “As a result, if we aren’t doing much, we can go longer without it if necessary.”

“Lucky you, I’m jealous,” Sophia said with a smile. “I should let you go, though. I’ve taken far too much of your attention.”

Loki searched her eyes. Her smile was genuine, her heart warm. “Very well,” he said, “but if you need me…”

“I know where you are,” she finished. “Thank you, again.” She blushed and laughed. “This is more than anyone’s done for me.”

Loki smiled in response, her warmth infectious. “You’re welcome,” he said, “and no need to be so polite. We might be family, after all.” With a wink, he returned to Asgard.

Afterwards, Loki attempted to return to a normal routine. But as he rushed to get out of the palace to an academic graduation, he passed a feasting hall and heard his father’s strident voice pealing out. “Are you nearly finished?!”

The muscles around his heart clenched as he halted in place, a childish panic growing in his mind. Was Odin speaking to him?

“I’m trying, Odin, just a few moments more!” It was his mother. Her voice was filled with fear and tension.

Something was wrong. Loki rushed into the hall, looking around sharply. It was pillared, less decorated than other spaces, but currently filled with a golden banquet table and flowers.

There was no one in sight. What was going on?

Perhaps they were around the corner. Quickly, he strode toward the other end of the ballroom.

“Are you nearly finished?!” It was Odin’s voice again, exactly the same as before. Loki’s eyes darted around the room as he flexed his hands nervously, preparing to cast his magic if needed. Was this a recording of some kind? Was someone playing a trick on him?

As he stepped forward, a sudden blast sent him backwards, hitting the floor hard. His instincts helped him roll with the momentum; he leapt to his feet to see the other end of the hall smoking. A guard was standing in front of his father as they were attacked by some humanoid in armor. Odin lifted Gungnir and felled the enemy with a blast before turning in Loki’s direction. “Frigga, hurry!”

“I’m trying, Odin, just a few moments more!” Mother’s voice came from behind him.

Loki pivoted to see his mother kneeling before a magical circle, her hands out and wreathed in her signature silver magical energy. Runes swirled in front of her as he heard her murmuring underneath her breath. He recognized a binding spell, but didn’t know the technique she was using. Stepping closer, he looked to see what it was she was binding.

A pile of golden cloth lay on the floor inside the circle, and he gasped as his eyes fell on a baby. Its eyes were open, its small limbs flailing, but it wasn’t crying despite the chaos.

A blink, and they were gone. Breathing fast, Loki looked around the room once more to find it as still as when he first entered.

A vision, his mind told him, even though his heart beat fast from the shock. A vision of the past, like when he was in the Seer’s chambers. What was the meaning of it?

And when had the palace been attacked?

Loki pursed his lips, conflicted about whether to continue on to the graduation as his mind worked quickly to understand what he’d seen. His common sense won out, so he left the ballroom and continued onwards, departing the palace and walking out into the streets.

He couldn’t help but scan his surroundings, looking for hazards. The blast had set him on edge, so that the back of his mind was screaming about danger despite the peaceful streets. A light glinting off a horse’s bridle, a sudden laugh, or the movement of a child’s ball made his muscles tense.

Arriving late to the graduation, Loki stayed as long as was polite before his return home. This time he took a more quiet route, preferring not to be as stimulated by the crowds of the main thoroughfares.

Loki was still disturbed by what he’d seen. There’d been no warning, no slow connection to Time as he’d felt the first time he’d had a vision. Perhaps he’d missed it in his fear upon hearing his father’s voice.

When in the past had this happened? Somehow intruders had made it deep into the palace - his father was telling Frigga to hurry as though something needed to happen. As though he was concerned whether or not they would make it.

And who was the child? Was it Thor?

Loki’s thought were interrupted by a growing prickling feeling in the back of his mind. Oh, no. No, no, this was not a good time for another -

In a moment, the street around him was transformed into one covered in ash and rubble. Einharjar ran, scattered, between buildings. Some turned to fight enemies in bronzed armor as they came upon one another. The sky-shroud was obscured with smoke billowing up from smoldering fires. Looking up, Loki saw ships of an unknown design bombarding the palace shields.

“Come on, men!” Loki turned to follow the sound of the commanding voice. A sergeant of the guard waved his men forward - a small group of four, haggard and bleeding. There was a cry - “Incoming!” - and the group ducked as the building beside them exploded, scattering stones in every direction. Loki shielded himself magically, but a stone that was headed toward him passed through harmlessly.

As the dust began to clear, one of the guards stood up, then began digging in the rubble frantically. “Sir! Sir! Can you hear me?”

Loki’s eyes widened. He knew that voice. He knew it, where did he know it from?

“Sir! No - no!”

It came to him. Loki walked closer, squinting his eyes for visual confirmation. Yes. It was Lord Forsetti, albeit much younger. He was removing debris to find his squadron, gasping in despair as he found each one dead. Forsetti bowed his head, touching his forehead to those of his squad members, murmuring the traditional words, “I bid you take your place in the halls of Valhalla…”

Forsetti looked up suddenly, and Loki turned to see one of the humanoids in armor, close enough now for him to get a good look.

Whatever type of being could get this far into Asgard must be powerful. It was clear this warrior fit that description. Its countenance was fair and comely, with long hair unbound shrouding pointed ears. Its armor was intricately wrought and well-fitted, shining despite the grime. In its hand was a curved sword, gleaming in the firelight. Its eyes, however, were cold and calculating.

It had seen Forsetti, who had frozen, eyes wide as his hands were covered in the blood of his comrades. It seemed to regard the young lord, then decide he wasn’t worth the time, turning to walk quietly down the street.

The first thought that sprang to Loki’s mind, against his better nature, was “coward.” Any Asgardian would have attacked the enemy on sight; Forsetti had frozen instead. If anyone had seen him, he’d be flogged, if not executed - regardless of his nobility. Shaking his head, though, Loki saw the fear and grief in Forsetti’s eyes. Turning to look at the rest of Asgard, Loki saw his home smoldering and bare under attack; the same fear and grief threatened to overtake him as well.

Closing his eyes, a tear escaping, Loki wished for the past to disappear. Please, he pleaded silently with the universe, please, I don’t want to See anymore.

The sounds of battle around him diminished, and when he opened his eyes, he was in the present once more. Now that he’d seen the street demolished, Loki looked at things more carefully. Some of the buildings were indeed constructed of newer materials, while others had a shift in the color of the stone, indicating the usage of a different quarry. The scars of this conflict were still present, just hidden.

Just hidden.

He needed to know what happened. If Forsetti had been present, this...invasion had to have occured within his lifetime, not before. Quickening his steps, it wasn’t long before Loki was standing before his favorite location to use an informational beacon. It was out of the way, almost hidden, rather than some of the more public locations, such as those in the Hall of Sciences.

A quick search revealed nothing. It’d have to be more in-depth, then. If the two visions were connected - which given the armor of the enemies, Loki believed so - then his parents had a baby at the time. That meant it was shortly after Thor’s or his birth. Glancing at a timeline of events, there was no mention of an invasion. At all.

Loki’s heart sank. Another secret, probably. He was making a lot of assumptions, however, so perhaps it wasn’t the case.

But deep down, he felt that it had somehow been concealed. How could damage of the magnitude he’d seen be covered up? If so, where should he look?

Probably Forsetti was the key to this. A quick check of Forsetti’s age revealed that yes, he would have been the right age for service in the guard, and his records revealed he had served at that time. However, Loki froze as he found the records sealed. They were only accessible by the Crown - which, fortunately, meant he could access them - but still, that meant there were matters of importance within. And it meant that its access could be tracked.

Leaning back, Loki glanced around the corridor. No one in sight.

Anyone could use this beacon. Tapping his fingers against his leg, he decided it was worth the risk, opening the file. There was little to no information, however, despite its classification. Files about his squadron were similarly empty. No information at all was given about their deaths, simply their names. As he attempted to cross-reference their deaths with public records, he found that they didn’t have any. It was as though these squad members had never existed in the first place. Never born, never died.

Surely that couldn’t be the case.

But the names from these sealed files didn’t exist elsewhere. No record of their birth, life, existence in censuses, death, nothing. Their existence had been erased.

Loki bit back the fear rising within him. Had Father done this? Why?

Forsetti had quit working for the guard just a couple years after Thor’s birth. This, he felt, was the indication he needed that the invasion occured around that time. Most likely Forsetti struggled with the aftermath, given what Loki knew. The baby, then, it must have been Thor. The invaders must have gotten quite deep into the palace to have reached that hall.

The invaders. He’d never seen a race like theirs, but he’d heard of one similar, buried in the history books. A quick search revealed that yes, he had remembered correctly.

The invaders were Light Elves, from Alfheim. The reason they’d fallen from Asgard’s memory was that, prior to the Fall of Arlathan nearly 1800 years ago, the Light Elves could no longer maintain contact with Asgard due to a worsening conflict.

How, then, could they have mustered an army 500 years later to invade Asgard? Though the Elves were reportedly skilled in magic, they in no way in recorded history had the technological capabilities that he’d seen - ships with the ability to bombard the city.

Forsetti might have answers, but he was of low rank at the time and unlikely to know much. However, there were others present in the city at the time, namely one person he hadn’t even considered asking.

Heimdall.

The reason Loki had avoided Heimdall was the sentinel's oath to his father. It seemed likely that they might be discovered if Heimdall were to let Odin know about their inquiries. However, he could hold key information that could answer their questions, since this battle, in particular, was being covered up.

Additionally, Heimdall’s abilities were suspiciously similar to what Thor and Loki had discovered about themselves. Heimdall had the Sight in a way, Loki guessed, but he could instead See the present instead of the past or the future. Perhaps he might have an understanding of the Seers or their magics. Undoubtedly he was aware something was currently amiss between Loki and Thor, if he’d been paying attention.

Loki decided then to find Thor and find out what he thought. Perhaps Thor had heard something different from Father about the attack.

Taking a different path out of the corridor in an effort to avoid detection, Loki went off to find his brother. As he guessed, Thor was returning from the Chanter’s hall after a ceremony. Loki took him aside to a private room, explaining to him what he’d seen.

Thor’s reaction was unsurprising - disbelief, then surprise as the details continued to sink in. “I’ve never heard of this,” Thor said, crossing his arms. “You think the baby was me?”

“Of course,” said Loki with a sigh, “Forsetti quit the guard just after your birth, so I think the invasion must have happened then.”

“An invasion, brother, you’re talking about a massive event. How could we have never known about it?”

Loki spread his arms, giving a shrug. “We didn’t know about the Seers either. There’s lots of things we haven’t been told, we just have to go looking, I suppose.”

“But - covering it up? How could such losses go unspoken? Would they not be venerated as heroes and their deaths mourned?” Thor’s face showed concern. He seemed deeply unsettled by the idea, as though the dead were somehow lost, not in Valhalla or Hel.

“I know not, brother, but the silence surrounding it suggests a greater reason for keeping these events quiet.”

Thor locked eyes with Loki. “A matter of security, perhaps? How the invaders penetrated our defenses?”

“I don’t think a matter that small would require such significant intervention,” Loki said, shaking his head. “I think there must be a more important reason, I just can’t figure out what it could be.”

Loki broached the idea of speaking with Heimdall to Thor, who stroked his beard as he thought. “I think we could speak with him,” Thor said slowly.

“You don’t think he would report back to Odin?”

“Heimdall is extremely loyal to Father, but he can be reasoned with. If we ask the right questions, I think we won’t raise any concern.”

Loki narrowed his eyes at Thor. “You know he doesn’t really speak with me, so you’ll need to do the talking. Do you think you’ll be so deft as to ask the right questions?”

Thor shot Loki a smile. “Loki, you always underestimate me.”

“With good reason. I remember you blundering us right into a brawl with the Wethin family because you forgot their daughter was married.”

Thor grinned, not even bothering to rise to the accusation. “Fine, but even so, I think we can navigate around it. Heimdall could provide us with some important answers to all...this. And what’s the true harm if Father finds out we’re poking around?”

Loki did a double-take. “Well - um - there’s a lot, Thor.” He started ticking things on his fingers. “One, that we have the same abilities as the Seers. Two, that we’re Children of Time. Three, that we have a strange connection with a Midgardian that I think might be a sibling. Four, we know about an invasion that might be covered up around your birth. Need I go on?”

“Alright, you’re right, that is something we’ll need to approach more delicately on our own. Things need to be broken more…slowly to Father.” Thor crossed his arms, tapping a finger against a bicep.

“Yes,” Loki said, rubbing his forehead. He really didn’t want to deal with Father’s temper. At all. “Do you know if Heimdall is busy?”

“I don’t know of any use of the Bifrost today,” Thor said, striding past Loki. “So let’s go.”

Loki closed his eyes, hoping that they weren’t about to cause further problems for themselves.

The brothers decided to walk along the Bifrost bridge instead of riding, since the weather was so pleasant. The wind would always pick up as they began crossing over the water, blowing some of the spray into their faces. A quarter of the way across, Thor halted, squinting, then turned. Loki followed his gaze to see Sophia. He’d been wondering when she’d show up today.

She grinned guiltily, looking around wide-eyed. This was the first time she was outside the palace. “I hope I’m not bothering you,” she said loudly over the wind.

Loki put his hands on his hips. “Of course you are!” he said in a mocking tone.

A smile split Thor’s face and he pretended to shove Loki. “Don’t listen to him,” he said, “Come on! Have you seen the Bifrost yet?”

“Is this it?” Sophia said, walking up and gazing down at the myriad colors underneath her feet.

“No, no,” Loki said with a laugh, “This leads up to it.” He gestured down the bridge to the golden dome.

Sophia nodded and looked around, her brown hair blowing with the wind. “This is beautiful. Probably the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen, and that’s saying a lot.”

Thor seemed to stand a little taller. “Asgard is a beautiful place,” he responded, drawing her alongside them and beginning to walk. “We’re going to see Heimdall, our sentinel.”

“He keeps watch?” asked Sophia, looking up at them.

“Yes,” Loki said, “he both keeps watch over the Realms and is the gatekeeper of Asgard.”

“Correct me if I’m wrong, but I thought King Odin kept watch over the Realms.”

Thor laughed, and Loki grinned along with him. “He does as King, as Protector of the Nine Realms,” Thor said, “but Heimdall is able to actually see all things in the universe and relays that information to Father.”

Sophia’s eyes widened. “That’s quite an ability!”

“Yes,” Loki said. “That’s why we’re going to ask him some questions.” He paused, realizing something. “Please don’t try to take me over, though - I feel like I have to say that all the time now. Heimdall would certainly notice a change in my behavior.” He wasn’t certain if Heimdall would be able to see her in his body. That would certainly be a question to ask later, if Heimdall ever found out about her.

Sophia looked at Loki with a smile, but her eyes were serious. “I won’t do it again unless it’s necessary. I honestly didn’t really know it was going to happen the first time, and I am sorry about that. I suppose it was disturbing for you.”

It wasn’t overly so in perspective, but he appreciated the thought. “Thank you.”

It wasn’t too long before they made it to the golden dome, with Heimdall, in his golden armor, standing ever-vigilant. “Welcome, princes,” he said, stepping down from the central pedestal. “I’m honored you’ve come to visit.” His brilliant eyes drifted downward. “And that you’ve brought a visitor.”

Loki’s heart stopped. He heard Thor inhale sharply. “You can see her?” Thor asked, frowning.

“Of course.” Heimdall’s voice remained calm and unwavering. “Welcome, Sophia Alexandria Florian. I hope you are finding Asgard to live up to the stories you’ve read.”

Sophia was hugging her sweater close around her, seeming to shrink as her fear became evident. “Thank you,” she said tightly. “It is.” Her eyes drifted over to look at Loki, who gave her a confused expression.

He didn’t know what to do. He hadn’t even processed that this was the first time he’d heard Sophia’s full name. Heimdall could see her, which meant that, potentially, he’d seen all of their interactions.

By the Norns, how much did he know? How much did Father know already?

“Well, Heimdall, you continue to surprise me,” Thor said, trying to make light of the situation.

“Indeed,” Heimdall said, folding his hands in front of him. “But I suspect you’re here to talk about a great many things.”

Thor looked at Heimdall hard. “It will be difficult to continue if we know all will be passed on to Father.”

“I am bound by oath to our King,” Heimdall said, “However, only matters of the utmost importance need reach his ears.”

“A king’s time is valuable,” Thor said, giving Loki a glance. “Too valuable for sundry matters, I would assume.”

Well, Thor did seem to know what he was doing. Loki begrudgingly credited his brother with taking the right approach.

“Indeed,” Heimdall replied, “Or to be troubled with the details of all who visit Asgard.”

Thor gave Loki a knowing look. Yes, fine, you don’t need to gloat, Loki thought.

Thor was considering his words carefully before speaking. “What do you know of the Seers, Heimdall?”

Heimdall’s orange eyes flicked toward Thor. “I know much about them, Prince Thor. They were once an active part of our lives in Asgard. What do you wish to know?”

“Are there Seers who still practice their magics?”

“Yes, but none on Asgard.”

“Where are they?”

“The remaining Seers practice on Vanaheim, often in secret.”

“Why?”

Heimdall looked visibly uncomfortable. “I cannot answer that, Prince Thor.”

Thor frowned. “Why not?”

“Because it would violate my oath.”

Loki held back any expression of surprise. It was difficult, since he’d no idea the Seers were considered a matter directly related to King Odin. Thor looked at Loki, seemingly to gauge his reaction, but he continued on.

“Of the remaining Seers, is there perhaps someone who would speak with us?”

Heimdall relaxed a little, though his stoic nature made it difficult to read his state. “Yes. There is a matron named Evelin of Clan Vidfavne who might be willing to do so.”

“Vidfavne,” Thor said, crossing his arms. “The clan that’s pillaging the countryside. You think she’d be willing to speak with us?”

“She is an amenable woman, and if you seek her guidance regarding Seers, the clan would have no reason to be aggressive particularly toward a prince.”

Thor nodded. “Your abilities, Heimdall, do you know if they’re related to the magics of the Seers? One called it seidr.”

A small smile crossed Heimdall’s lips. “Yes, Prince Thor, it is indeed related to seidr. I possess the Sight, though only for the purposes you know - my ability is specific and honed. I can See the present in all aspects, and for that I am grateful. The abilities that you and your siblings have gained, however, are just as specific, great in power because of its focus, instead of the broad-ranging Sight of the typical Seer.”

So he did know. Wonderful. Just wonderful.

Thor pursed his lips. “Have you told Father of what we’ve learned about our abilities?”

“No, my prince.” Heimdall’s answer was terse and unexpected.

“Why not, Heimdall?”

“There is no need at this time.”

Thor seemed to be thinking. “Siblings,” he said. “You said siblings. Do Loki and I have a third sibling?”

Heimdall seemed to carefully consider this. “Yes,” he said slowly. No doubt he was measuring what words would go against his oath. Loki’s heart started beating faster as he began to realize that Heimdall could possibly confirm what they’d been questioning this entire time.

Thor also was carefully considering the wording of his questions. “Who is this person?” he finally said. In answer, Heimdall simply shook his head.

He needed to reword the question. Loki wracked his brain, trying to think of an alternative. Then an idea came to him. Drawing closer to Sophia, he said, “Is Sophia Alexandria Florian our sister?”

Heimdall’s eyes crinkled in a hidden smile. “Indeed.”

The air of the observatory seemed to settle as all present seemed to soak in the implications of what had been said.

Sophia broke the silence. “Well, that’s that then.” Despite her blasé statement, however, emotions were roiling inside her.

“How?” Thor blurted out, then caught himself. “Sorry, Heimdall, you probably can’t say.”

“I cannot. But I think that Prince Loki’s insights in the matter will be most revealing.”

What insights? “I haven’t found anything related to how this could have…..oh.” The sound escaped Loki’s lips as realization hit him. “Oh - shit.”

Thor wouldn’t like this. That is, if Loki was thinking right. Yes. Yes, it must be, that would - but how would it have worked? No matter, it made too much sense.

Loki glanced at Heimdall. He was cooperating enough that it seemed safe to discuss this.

“Thor, that was what I saw this morning. With Mother. The baby, it - it wasn’t you.”

Thor looked stunned. “It had to be,” he said, confused.

Loki found himself getting emotional. “Thor, I’ve thought about another time Mother could have been pregnant, and I could never think of any. There was no other time for a reason.” Loki glanced at Sophia, who was staring at him with tears glistening in her eyes. Then he looked back at his brother. “It’s because you weren’t the only child that was born that day.”

Thor physically took a step back, his mouth opening as he grappled with the idea. “No,” Thor said with a desperate smile. “Loki, that’s not funny. We can’t joke about this.”

“Oh my god,” Sophia said, wiping at her tears. “That explains some stuff.”

“Thor, I’m not joking,” Loki said, “I wish I was. But it all makes sense. Mother was using binding magic, not on you - but on her.” He pointed at Sophia.

Thor was staring at the floor, breathing heavily, likely in an effort to control his emotions. Sophia moved to go to him, but Loki quickly grabbed her and pulled her back. “Not now,” he told her softly.

Thor was volatile right now. Loki couldn’t tell if he was liable to lash out in anger or not, and he didn’t want Thor to hit Sophia. Even if she wasn’t present, the physicality of their connection made it seem as though she would indeed be physically hurt. As a mortal - or at least someone bound to a mortal form - she could be injured.

Looking up at Loki, tears glistening on her cheeks, Sophia tried to speak, but couldn’t. He couldn’t tell if it was Thor’s emotions cascading through her or her own, but they were understandably overwhelming.

“Heimdall,” Thor spoke, his voice breaking. “Please tell me that Loki is wrong.”

“I cannot,” Heimdall said. “For that would be a lie.”

Thor kept his head down. “Thank you - for your honesty,” he forced out, then walked out of the dome quickly, using Mjolnir to fly away immediately.

“What! Really!?” Sophia said in shock. “He just leaves?”

Loki held on to her shoulder. “He has a hard time when he’s emotional,” he said to her. “I know this is hard, it’s hard…” he swallowed back his own sorrow which threatened to spring forward, “it’s hard for all of us.” He needed to be strong for Sophia right now, because he was the only one that could.

Sophia turned to look at Heimdall. “You knew - you knew all this.” She wasn’t speaking accusatorially, simply stating it aloud.

“He has certain duties - “ Loki interjected to try and calm her down, not wanting to upset Heimdall.

Sophia continued without listening to Loki. “It must’ve been hard.”

That wasn’t what Loki had expected. He looked up at Heimdall to gauge his reaction.

Heimdall nodded. “Duties are always difficult, that is why they are important.” He stepped forward, tilting his head a little as he gazed at Sophia. “You know much of the hardships a duty can cause, and have endured much for seemingly little reward. Remember that such rewards are often intangible and difficult to see.

“If it is a comfort, I have watched you all your life, Sophia. There was always a witness to your pain, though you did not know it. You have not suffered in vain; the lessons you have learned will certainly guide you through the years to come.”

Loki hadn’t heard Heimdall string that many words together in his life. The sentinel's words seemed to hit Sophia right in the heart, panging deeply. She nodded, unable to speak.

He looked up at Heimdall, feeling the need to speak for the three of them. “Thank you for your understanding, Heimdall, and your kind words. Though Thor was unable to express it, we’re grateful for what you’ve done today.”

Heimdall had never been kind to Loki, but he saw the sentinel soften just a little. “Thank you, my prince,” he said.

With that, Loki turned and guided Sophia back down the rainbow bridge.

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masseffectspotlight · 6 years

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This week we’re featuring @lauraemoriarty!

What got you started writing Fanfic?

Oh god.... I'd have to think right back to the early days of the internet. I think I'd just finished Final Fantasy VIII, and wanted to read more about the characters-- and then I decided to write a very, very bad (I was about 14 or 15-- can't remember now), fanfic that involved the main characters going on a journey... I stuck around in the Final Fantasy fandom for a long time, and then lost interest in writing fanfic around the same time I discovered forum-based post by post RPG sites, so writing fanfic went by the wayside. But what I did learn from those sites was a lot about character development and how to keep learning from your characters-- so it was a really great foundation for later writings. A friend got me playing Mass Effect, as I'd been obsessed with Dragon Age: Origins, and after the ending of ME3 (which I really didn't mind, and still don't), I decided to write about it. The characters sucked me in, and my Sheps weren't done with their stories. Are there any authors, published or fanfic, that inspire you in anyway? Oh god. Another tricky question....Published authors that have inspired me in the past include JK Rowling, Tolkien, Robin Hobb-- and I'm also inspired by poets such as Leonard Cohen and Alfred Tennyson. One of my more recent published author influences is the wonderful Sarah J Maas and her world building in A Court of Thorns and Roses, along with her Throne of Glass series. As for fanfic authors that inspire me, I'd go with our lovely Lena (vorchagirl), Kim (mizdirected), Juleshawke, and a whole host of others who I'm probably forgetting right now. Other authors have also contributed heavily to my work: L.M Montgomery, Louisa May Alcott, Charles Dickens, and to a certain extent, so has George RR Martin. The GRRM influence is more apparent in my Dragon Age works, than my Mass Effect works. What Mass Effect character comes easiest for you to write and why? This can be a canon character, an OC, or one of the MCs (Shepard/Ryder) After Rose Shepard, Aoife Shepard, Lee Shepard, and Grai Shepard, one of my favourite characters for me to write is probably Udina. He simmers with outrage, and I feel that he has such potential. Another favourite of mine to write is Conrad Verner, but in my world, he has a huge edge to him. Another character who I love to write is Nellie Nevell-- Rose's twin sister, and a navy surgeon who worked in the refugee camps during the Reaper War. She's a different type of Shepard, in that she sees far more of the war than Shepard does, and it's a lot harder for her than most people would expect. She has a very different perspective on the war, and I find it to be an interesting and refreshing take on it. Are there any characters you want to tackle writing but haven't yet? Why? Ashley Williams. I'm torn on whether to like her or dislike her, because her favourite poet is my favourite poet, and I think I'll need to write my mShep/Ash story in order to explore her and what she truly is underneath her skin. I'd also really like to write a Jack/mShep fic that's from her pov alone-- that'd be interesting to write because Jack is so complex and damaged, and I'm fascinated by her. Time to talk about your fics! What's your favourite story you've written / are working on? I love most of what I write. I'm most proud of On Both Sides of the Glass, which is a post-war fic that features Leonard Cohen lyrics at the start of each chapter-- even the name of the fic is a line from one of his songs: "The age of lust is giving birth And both the parents ask The nurse to tell them fairytales On both sides of the glass" It's heavily influenced by the music of Leonard Cohen, and Rose, my absolutely precious Rose, is quite a strong character. I'm putting her through hell over and over, and she just lets me. It's pretty amazing what she's gone through, and what she still has to go through. I like writing Rose's post-war journey, and I'm planning on writing hugely ambitious work for her pre-and-during the Reaper War stuff, along with an origins story that starts in 1066, with the Norman Invasion. Rose and Kaidan are soulmates through time and space, and I wanted to write something that would combine my love of historical fiction with my precious baby. Start with On Both Sides of the Glass and go from there. Things will make more sense if you do. What's your second favourite story you've written / are working on? The Renegade Angels. This story came about incidentally-- I messaged Laura (aka Potionsmaster) about an AU she was writing, and we hit it off. We're both massive Potterheads, and our story reflects our shared love of Harry Potter and other things. Aoife (aka Effie) is a bundle of anxiety masked by obnoxiousness, a sense of humour, and an attitude of "who gives a fuck?" What's your third favourite story you've written / are working on? Probably my entry for the 2018 Mass Effect Big Bang. It's a lot darker than my usual stuff, and features a Shepard who is genuinely tired of being labeled the Butcher of Torfan, even though she ceased being the butcher a long time ago. 0h! Welcome Home. I really like what I did with my Shepard here. What are your greatest challenges when writing? Not going off on random tangents and lecturing readers on things that are well-known in canon. I have a habit of educating people while writing, and I struggle with that. I also struggle with writing smut-- I love writing it, but it's a massive struggle for me to write it inventively and with enough feeling behind it. Another great challenge for me when writing is to not get distracted by google searching-- I'm working on something that spans 1100+ years, and trying to get all the history into it without it sounding like a history lecture is pretty fucking hard. What are your greatest strengths when writing? I'm honestly not sure. People say that my work concerning PTSD is really human and tender, and because I've been through trauma, I think it's one of those things where I end up working through my own trauma of surgeries and idiots who have no place trying to cannulate a traumatised patient. I love writing battles, and the action of war and death. One of the things I love to focus on in writing is the way that there are always unforeseen costs to being a hero in the moment, and that there are always going to be the shadows of what you lose when you go to war. Okay, we're almost done! Any WIP or sequels or anything you'd like to give a hint about? I have a few things in the works, including a Jack/MShep fic, and another Shega fic.

#Mass Effect #mass effect andromeda #Mass Effect Writers' Spotlight #meffw #lauraemoriarty #fic recs

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tangle-of-ivy · 7 years

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A Human Unknowingly Performs a Dwarvish Custom on an Elf

This story was supposed to be drabble based on an Imagine I sent to @middleearthimagines, and, well…it kind of hijacked me and took me along for the ride. The end result is many many times the length that I originally set out to write. But my little drabble idea grew up to be a big, beautiful story that I’m proud of, so here we are.

My original imagine was: “Imagine being secretly in love with Legolas and Gimli knowing. One day he jokingly suggests that you braid his hair and you, not knowing the significance of braiding in the dwarf culture, take it as a serious suggestion. When Gimli walks in on you braiding Legolas' hair, he thinks you've already told him that you love him and he accidentally spills the beans. You turn bright red and sputter as Legolas grins up at you, delightedly and Gimli laughs.”

Note: I know I bent a few rules about Middle Earth. For instance, I’m aware that the dwarfs normally don’t teach outsiders dwarvish/Kadzul. But I’ve chosen to ignore that for this story. Also, I got my dwarvish and elvish phrases from several different sources, so if a hard-core Tolkien fan reads this and realizes that some of the words are wrong…I apologize, but I’m not too concerned about it. I tried to use legit looking sites, but there are DOZENS! So, there’s only so much I can do. If there was more than one option for a certain word or phrase, I just picked the most accurate or the one that sounded the best.

Words: 6,941

Pairing: Legolas / OC (Boromir’s and Faramir’s sister)

Other characters: Gimli, Boromir, several mentions of Faramir, the rest of the Fellowship is in the background

Warnings: Some mild Middle-Earth-style insults and FLUFF!

Where and When: Somewhere in the Misty Mountains, sometime after the Fellowship left Rivendell but before they get to Moria. They’ve been on the road for quite a few weeks by now.

“Lass? Where’ve you gone to?”

“Huh?” The human female turned her head to blink confusedly at the stocky dwarf.

“What land have ye traveled to in that pretty head of yours? You seem to have travelled a fair distance if it’s this much of a struggle to return.” The dwarf chuckled as he leaned on the long handle of his axe.

The woman smiled softly. “I didn’t go anywhere, Gimli.” She said with a sigh, turning back to gaze over the edge of the bluff where she’d been sitting.

“Sure? Sure it wasn’t some far off place with no ring? No Sauron. No impending doom. No bone-aching, back-breaking, danger-filled journey evading every orc that the dark lord can throw at us?”

“Hmm… That does sound nice.” She murmured, gazing at the moon where it was rising over the mountains.

She didn’t notice that Gimli’s eyes shone with mischief.

“No sleeping on rocks. No more trail rations. A world of sunny skies…full bellies…lazy afternoons…happy dreams…clean clothes…and peaceful walks in the woods with a certain pointy-eared elf prince…”

“Yeah…” she continued to stare at the night sky for several long moments. Suddenly her head snapped around and she gaped at the dwarf. “Wait, WHAT?”

Gimli made no attempt to hide his laughter.

“Gotcha there, lass!” he guffawed.

“I’m not- I don’t- What nonsense are you spewing?” she sputtered, crossing her arms and attempting to look stern. But even in the twilight, Gimli could see her bright blush.

“No nonsense but the truth. A blind man could see that you two are sweet on each other. And in that case, if I may say so, it’s probably a good thing that yer brother ‘as turned out to be blind.”

“Boromir’s not THAT protective.” The woman rolled her eyes and huffily brushed stands of brown hair out of her eyes. “He’s just stressed. He doesn’t really like heights. I’ve always thought it was funny considering the loftiness of the citadel. An’ he’s always been fine there. He can stand on the edge of the wall and look all the way down and not twitch. But put him on a normal mountainside or cliff and he gets shaky and irritable.”

Gimli’s eyes glittered.

“Oh-ho! Well I’ll certainly be givin’ him grief about that later. But yer not gonna distract me, Lady Lianna! Yer in love with the elf prince.”

“Shh! Keep your dag-blasted voice down!” Lianna whisper-shouted frantically. She glanced back in the direction of their camp, but no one else was in sight. She knew elves had keener ears than humans and dwarves though.

The dwarf raised a shrewd eyebrow.

“If it’s not true, then why’re you so concerned about being overheard?” The woman muttered a dwarvish curse he’d taught her, making him sigh. “My mother would wash MY mouth out if she’d heard I’d taught a lady ter say that.”

“Good. Maybe then you’d learn to watch what you said.” The human muttered crossly, folding her arms and staring down at the valley without really seeing it.

The dwarf sat down on the rock beside her, adjusting the smaller axe hanging at his belt so that he wouldn’t hit her with it. He grunted and turned his head from side to side, cracking his neck.

“Don’t be like that, lass. I just want to help.”

“There’s nothing to help with. Legolas is a friend.”

“A friend you talk to all hours of the day and avoid eye contact with when yer brother’s watching.”

“Fine. A really good friend.”

“Lass.” Gimli met her gaze squarely, and his eyes were kind. Lianna held his gaze for a few long seconds before finally dropping her eyes to her dusty boots. The dwarf placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. “There’s nothing to be ashamed of. I’ll be the first to admit that when we first left Rivendell he’s the first one I’d’ve pushed off a mountain the moment I could.”

Lianna giggled. Everyone knew the hostile feelings the elf and dwarf had held for each other when they first met. The old bitterness between their races was still strong. The pair’s bickering had lasted for several weeks into their journey. It was only recently that she’d seen them swapping stories as they walked and debating the benefits of axes and archery around the campfire.

“Yeah, yeah.” The dwarf grumbled as she chuckled. “But he’s a decent sort. He’d treat you like the princess you are.”

“I’m not a princess.” Was the firm reply.

Gimli smiled at her. “Oh you’ve proven you can hold your own in a fight, lass. You’re one of the best staff fighters I’ve ever seen. An’ you can put up with nine sqabblin’ males while keeping up and maintain’ the peace as well as any female ever could. You’ve got a good head on your shoulders. I’m not implying that you’re some damsel to be holed up in a castle somewhere and not allowed to do anything but smile and look pretty. But a woman like you deserves to be a princess. Deserves to be taken care of as much as you take care of others. I know your cursed father never appreciated you and your younger brother…what’s his name again?”

“Faramir.” Lianne said, and a heartbroken expression crossed her face.

She still felt so guilty for leaving him alone with her father, Denathor. She’d begged her father to let Faramir and her be the ones to go to Rivendell. Maybe they’d be able to find a solution for the ring and finally earn their father’s approval together. But instead he’d commanded only Boromir to go. That day her father had struck her again…and this time her brothers had found her before she could hide the bruises. Their horror and anger had been extreme. As dangerous as the journey could potentially be, both her brothers urged her to go to Rivendell with Boromir. She hated the idea of going without her little brother, but they’d both overruled her. They planned for Faramir to make her excuses for as long as possible until it was too late for her father to send someone after them to fetch her back. The prospect of Denathor’s wrath falling on Faramir when he inevitably discovered the deception tore at her every day. Boromir had always been there to protect her, but Faramir was her best friend. They’d shared every thoughts and dreams with each other and found comfort together on days when their father was particularly disdainful.

While Boromir was sent off to be a hero, they took care of the people of Minas Tirith together. Their father often neglected his less glamorous duties of visiting and aiding the lower classes, but his younger children were more than happy to do it for him. They knew every corner of the city and could often be seen helping to repair a well or bringing blankets to the constant stream of refugees going in and out. The people all knew the pair, and they were beloved far more than the cold and distant Steward.

“Lady Lianna?”

“Huh?” she blinked at him again.

“You were travelling again.”

Lianna tried to smile, but only the corner of her mouth twitched half-heartedly. “Yes. To Minas Tirith.”

“Ah.” Gimli stroked his beard. “I’m sure your brother’s fine.”

“You don’t know that for sure though.” She whispered, unconsciously twisting the hem of her tunic until it started to fray. The dwarf gently pulled her fingers free of the abused cloth.

“No, I don’t.” he admitted. “But I’d assume that your brother would want you to be safe and happy.”

“Yes.”

“So, talk to the princeling.”

“What does that have to do with any-ugh! Never mind.” Lianne huffed, tiredly. “The answer is no.”

“Why not?”

“I just can’t. I just want to get to Mount Doom, get rid of that stupid ring, and get back to Minas Tirith.”

Gimli looked at her, his bushy brows furrowed. “Do ya really want to go back there, lass? I’ve seen how you look at every new view we come across. Do ya really want to go back to being trapped behind those big white walls again?”

“I want to make sure my people were well taken care of.”

“But for yourself?”

Lianna looked across the valley, at the moonlight glistening off a small waterfall, at the hills that spread out into the distance on one side, and at the trees that covered the mountain like a green blanket.

“No…but...”

“If you’re brothers were both here with ya and yer people were fine, would you ever want to go back?”

“Maybe? …no.” Her answer was so soft, he almost missed it.

The dwarf nodded softly, appreciating the honesty she’d given him with that answer. “Talk to the elf.”

“And why will that magically solve all of my problems?” she snapped.

He shrugged. “It certainly wouldn’t solve all of them. But it might solve a few down the road. An’ in the meantime, you’d be happy.”

“I am happy.” Lianna turned to smile at the dwarf. “You all treat me so well, it’s a joy to look after and mother you all. You certainly need it.” She said dryly, winking at him and making him laugh.

“Despite how true that may be, you deserve more than to be just treated well. You should be allowed to expect more out of life than just tha’.”

“Maybe.” The woman turned back to the view, pulling her knees up and wrapping her arms around them. “An’ maybe if we do destroy the ring…things might get better. If Gandalf’s right and the orcs are under Sauron’s command, we should see a decrease in the attacks on my people. Then…maybe my father…maybe he’ll finally be pleased. Maybe I can talk him into letting me and Faramir travel for a bit. I’d love to see more of Middle Earth…” She blinked to keep tears from escaping past her eyelids, then turned to look at the dwarf. “Right now, getting everyone to Mount Doom in one piece is what we all need to focus on. After that…maybe I’ll allow myself to dream a little more. Being here, seeing new lands, surrounded by friends,” Turning forward once more, she smiled at the valley before her, even as it faded from twilight into true night. “This is far more than I’ve dared to hope for in years. I may not be perfectly happy, Gimli. But I assure you, I am content.”

The dwarf gazed at the woman for several long minutes in silence. Then, he sighed. “Fine. I’ll not push anymore. I’ve not changed my mind, though. But I’ll try ter let it happen naturally if it’ll happen.”

Lianna smiled softly. “Thank you, Gimli.”

But the dwarf couldn’t help but get one last word in.

“Now, if I was you, I’d just march right up to him and ask ter braid his hair already. Then you could get to the hugging and hand holding and leave off the secret glances that make all our teeth rot with the sweetness. Living in a broth of unresolved romantic tension will drive the company mad eventually. Well, even more mad than it already is-”

“Good night, Gimli.” Lianna said with a stern voice and pointed look.

“Jus’ sayin’.” The dwarf grumbled as he stood.

The woman rolled her eyes and tossed a pinecone at his back as he left. She aimed too high, and it bounced off his head making him scowl and her laugh. Once he was gone, she turned around. Gazing over the bluff, she spent a few quiet minutes of solitude watching the tops of the pines sway in the mountain breeze. That is, until a gentle hand on her shoulder made her jump.

“It’s just me, meldonya.” Came the lyrical, masculine voice.

Lianna relaxed instantly as the tall elf sat cross-legged in the spot Gimli had recently vacated. She breathed in the scent of pine needles that always seemed to surround him. She’d often wondered about that in the past, since Legolas had told her that the forest of his homeland was mostly deciduous. But right now, the scent merely calmed her, except for the fluttering in her stomach that she strove to ignore.

“Legolas.” She greeted him. “Did Gimli send you?” she asked.

The elf smiled at her, making her feel warm. “Maybe.”

She snorted. “Of course he did.” She grumbled.

“Would you prefer I left?” was the teasing reply.

“No, no. Oio naa elealla alasse’.” Lianna said, practicing one of the elvish phrases he’d taught her as they traveled. She laid a hand on his arm, fighting the blush she could feel creeping over her cheeks as she did so. “You know I’m always glad to see you, meldonya.”

He chuckled, looking down the bluff at the stream far below. Liana watched the moonlight shimmer on his impossibly blonde hair. Gimli’s suggestions echoed in her ears, but she ignored them, instead unwrapping her arms from around her knees and matching the elf’s pose. They sat in companionable silence for a while, just enjoying the view and the chance to rest after a long day.

Eventually they began exchanging tales they’d heard about the various stars they could see from their position. Lianna let her conversation with Gimli fade into the back of her mind as the stars slowly moved across the sky.

Three days later, the company stopped earlier than they normally did. Their supplies were running low and Aragorn and Boromir had volunteered to hunt while the hobbits and Gimli fished in the river. Gandalf was in charge of starting and tending the fire. They’d been cautious lately, afraid an enemy would smell or see the smoke, but the wizard assured them that they were in a relatively safe part of the mountains. Legolas and Lianna went to gather what nuts, roots, and mushrooms they could find in the area nearby.

Returning to the rocky clearing where they’d set up camp, Lianna was laughing at Legolas’ attempts to keep his long hair out of his face. The wind had been fierce all day, tugging at them from first one direction, then battering them from another without warning. Gimli may tease the elf for having unnaturally neat and glossy hair, but even his elvish locks could not compete with the energetic mountain air. Lianna had braided her own hair tightly and wound it into a secure bun earlier in the day. By the fire, Gandalf had sat on his hat, fed up with the number of times he’d had to chase it down already today. His beard and hair looked like a mini hurricane, completely hiding his scowling face. He looked so foreboding that no one in the company dared to laugh at him, though several of the company bloodied their lips from biting them in order to avoid doing so.

Lianna set her bundle down next to the wizard, and headed over to the nook between two large boulders where they’d stashed their packs so they wouldn’t go tumbling down the mountain-side. She dug inside one, looking for her water skin. She’d just taken a swallow when she nearly spit it out again, catching sight of the elf prince trying desperately to catch the dozens of strands that were currently attacking his face like a swarm of sparrows. Coughing through her laughter she beckoned him over with one hand.

“Come. Sit here, out of the wind for a moment.”

Moving a few packs, she made room for the elf to sit against the stone. He sat, gratefully. Smaller eddies snuck around the rock every now and then, but for the most part, the air was still. Legolas finally managed to get the majority of his hair out of his eyes, meeting her humor filled gaze with chagrin.

“Do you think Gimli saw me?” he asked, knowing he’d never hear the end of it if he had.

Lianna leaned around the boulder and caught a glimpse of the dwarf scaling a fish while the hobbits hauled another wriggling one out of the water.

“You’re safe.” She said, sitting beside him. She watched as the prince tried to remove the tie that held his hair partially away from his face. The wind had blown his hair into such a tangle that it was stuck. “I’m afraid you may have to cut that out.” She said, leaning around his elbow to get a better look.

Lianna hesitated. Despite her best efforts, her conversation with Gimli had bounced around in her head for the last three days. Even his jibe at the end about holding hands, hugging, and hair braiding had stuck. She’d always wondered if the elf’s hair was as soft as it looked. Asking to braid his hair seemed like the best way to test that theory. But, as the dwarf often pointed out, Legolas’ hair was annoyingly neat and smooth without the elf seeming to have do much to keep it that way. She was jealous. Her own hair was thick and strong, but it tended to get a bit frizzy when it rained, and by the end of each day she inevitably had to spend several long minutes picking apart the snarls. Legolas’ hardly ever seemed to tangle. She’d never even seen him comb it. He just ran his fingers through it each morning and away he went. There had been no opportunity for her to offer to braid it for him because there had been no need…until now.

“Would you like some help with that?” she asked, before she could talk herself out of it.

Legolas looked at her through the crook in his arm. Two of his fingers had become entangled in his hair. “Yes please!” he breathed in relief.

Chuckling, and ignoring the way her heart beat stuttered in her chest, Lianna knelt behind him and surveyed the damage. Carefully, she helped him extract his fingers from the worst of the rat’s nest. Then she lifted a few locks to see where the heart of the damage was. She stroked the strands between her fingers, unable to let go for a moment. It was just as soft as she’d always imagined. No human would have hair that silky, even as snarled and tangled as it was.

Swallowing hard, she set to work. Slowly, she picked apart the worst of the knots as gently as she could. There was a wooden comb in her own pack that she could have fetched, but she hoped Legolas wouldn’t suggest it. It was so soothing and comfortable to do this for him. As though to assure her that he wasn’t in any hurry to leave, the elf crossed his legs and settled into a more comfortable position. Lianna smiled to herself and focused on the task at hand.

She managed to salvage the cord holding his hair in place. After that, it took her less time than she would have liked to smooth out most of the snarls. The softness of the strands made them easy to untangle. When she was finished she was unwilling to let the moment be over. So, she began running her fingers through the blonde strands to smooth them out even more. She felt him sigh and he leaned his head a bit further back into her hands. Trying to hide her proud grin at his evident enjoyment of her administrations, she began to lightly massage his head as she worked her way up.

At one point when she was running her fingers through the locks near his temples, her fingers brushed his ear and Legolas stiffened.

“I’m sorry, did I pull too hard?” she asked, freezing instantly.

“N-no.”

Lianna blinked. Had Legolas actually stuttered?

“Okay…” she said, proceeding again with more caution than before.

She continued to comb her fingers through the elf’s platinum hair until it had started to go obviously past the amount of time one would casually touch a friend. But she was still unwilling to let this intimate moment end. So, gathering handful of strands near one temple, she began to braid them. Legolas didn’t object, though he tilted his head to try and look back at her.

“Stay still.” She commanded, proud that her voice was steady, even if her stomach was fluttery and her fingers were tingling. “This way the wind will have a harder time turning your hair into a squirrel’s home.”

The elf snorted in amusement, but turned back to face forward. Lianna started twisting his hair into a five strand, lace braid along one side of his head. She stopped about halfway through, thought for a moment, then shook her hand and ran her fingers through his hair once more, undoing her work. She noticed him twitch and inhale sharply when she brushed his ear again, but she chose not to comment on it. Gathering the locks on the side of his head once more she proceeded to weave a fishtail style lace braid instead, reasoning that with the thinner strands it would take longer for pieces to work their way loose in the wind. When she had almost reached the back of his head she had him hold onto the end so it wouldn’t unravel as she worked on the other side. She hummed a song the hobbits had sung around the fire the night before as she worked. When she finished on the second side, she pulled both of the braids together at the back of his head and began weaving them intricately together with the remaining, unbraided strands.

“You’re quite good at this.” Legolas commented, as her graceful fingers deftly wove and twisted the locks into place.

“Thank you. I’ve had a lot of practice.”

“On your brothers? Boromir’s hair seems almost long enough.” The elf teased.

The woman laughed.

“I did once or twice when he was sleeping. Faramir would occasionally let me practice on him, if I begged.” She mentally pushed away the sorrow that arose at the thought of her little brother. “I mostly practiced on myself. There wasn’t much to do sometimes down in the…” She trailed off.

Legolas sensed her discomfort and turned to look at her, despite her protests.

“You have your Denathor face on.”

“What?”

He smiled sadly at her. “You have a special face for when you’re missing your brother, and another for when you’re thinking about something cruel your father did.”

“I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She muttered, trying to gently turn his head back so that she could continue with her work, but he wouldn’t budge.

“It’s okay, meldonya. You don’t have to sensor yourself for my benefit. You should never be embarrassed by how you were treated by others.”

The woman blushed. “I’m not embarrassed. Or ashamed…exactly. I just… It sounds like I’m seeking sympathy when I give offhand comments about my father’s…parenting style. I already have enough trouble getting people to take me seriously because I’m a woman, and a high ranking one at that. The last thing I need is stifling sympathy that only leads them to locking me away so I can’t be hurt. I’m not-”

Legolas reached back and placed a hand on her arm, stalling the words in her throat.

“I will never judge you for what you endured. You don’t have to prove yourself to me. If you feel uncomfortable discussing your father with me, then do not distress yourself. But if you only refrain because you fear a loss in my esteem, never fear. I already consider you one of the most courageous and strong hearted people I’ve met in my travels throughout Middle Earth. Cormlle naa tanya tel'raa. You will not disappoint me.”

Lianna couldn’t look away from his steady gaze. There was no way anyone could doubt his sincerity. She finally realized that he was waiting for an answer, so she nodded. Legolas turned back around to let her resume her work. After a pause, the woman picked up a few new strands and continued to work.

She cleared her throat. “What I was going to say was that there often wasn’t much to do down in the…cellar. Father would send me and Faramir down there sometimes when we displeased him. Although, when we were very young, he just used a closet. I still don’t particularly like small, enclosed spaces, though I can put up with them when necessary. But we soon grew out of closets. So, the cellar became his punishment of choice. Whenever possible, Boromir would smuggle books and candles to us to give us something to do. But sometimes he couldn’t find where Father hid the key. There’s only so many times you can count the inventory on the shelves or kick potatoes back and forth along the ground.”

“How long would he leave you in there?” Legolas asked. His voice was calm, but she sensed a stiffness in his shoulders.

“Half a day usually. Sometimes longer. Once he left the citadel for a trip and forgot to let Faramir out before he left. Boromir finally had to order a locksmith to come and let him out. He was only twelve at the time, but Father left him in charge while he was gone. Anyway, when I was in there I would braid my own hair over and over again. I’d try new things just to keep myself entertained. Once I got my hair so tangled with my latest attempt that Faramir had to fetch oil to help me get it undone. Boromir still teases me about it to this day.”

The elf chuckled. Lianna did too. It felt nice to speak freely. She noticed that there was a lumpy spot in the weave further up, so she pulled the last few inches apart to redo it. “It wasn’t so bad. I often hid books in the cellar ahead of time for just such an eventuality, or my brothers would slip me parchment and charcoal under the door so I could sketch. It gave me a lot of time to dream.”

Legolas picked up a stone from beside him and rolled it between his long fingers. “What did you dream about?” he wanted to know.

“Mostly about the places I wanted to visit. All the places I wanted to see.”

The elf smiled. “And what have been your favorite places to visit since you left Minas Tirith?”

“Well, we didn’t stop to explore or sight-see much on our journey west. We were in too much of a hurry to put distance between us and Father so he couldn’t send anyone after us to bring me back. And then we were in a hurry to make it to the Counsel of Elrond. But I daresay Rivendell itself was probably my favorite.”

“And where do you still want to go?”

“I’d love to see your home. I’d like to see where you grew up! And Gimli describes Erabor so wonderfully that it seems like a grand place to visit! But I’d really like to see the Shire someday. Sam describes it so well, and it sounds so peaceful and safe and lovely.”

Legolas smiled as she talked, even though she had to undo and redo her work several times as she got lost in her descriptions of places she’d heard and read about. Lianna was just retying the cord around the end of his braid when Gimli came over to retrieve something from his pack. Seeing the two of them thus occupied his eyes widened and he pointed at them with a thick finger.

“Oh-HO! About time, you two! I thought Gandalf was gonna have ter spell ya ta get you two to stop being stupid and just talk it out. I’ll tell Master Pippin that he owes me two silver coins.”

The human woman was glaring at the dwarf. She had no clue what the dwarf was talking about, but she didn’t have a good feeling about it.

“Listen here lad,” the dwarf continued, leaning down to talk directly to Legolas. “I can help ya forge a courting bead ter braid into her hair if we end up traveling through the mines of Moria. Then it’ll be all nice and proper.”

Lianna froze at the word “courting”.

“What are you on about?” she demanded, knowing she’d probably regret the question.

Gimli beamed at her. “Well you went and took my advice about the braiding. I see ya didn’t do it quite right. But I can show ya how to do a proper courting braid later. Congratulations to you both!”

“I’m not-! What-? A courting braid? What’s that?”

The dwarf looked at her confused. “Come now, you must know.” When Lianna shook her head, he frowned. “Don’t you humans braid each other’s hair when you’re courtin’? Or at least once you wed? How else will others know you’re already taken?”

Lianna’s face went so pale the dwarf looked alarmed. But she wasn’t looking at him. She was staring at the back of Legolas’ head. She couldn’t see his expression, but he’d been frozen in place since Gimli had started speaking. His muscles were tense and she couldn’t even tell if he was breathing.

“Gimli,” she tried to say calmly, but her traitorous voice shook. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. The wind was bothering Legolas, so I offered to help keep his hair out of his eyes.”

Gimli stared in shock at her before throwing up his hands in disgust. “You mean you haven’t come out an’ told him yer sweet on him yet? You crazy woman!”

“GIMLI!!” Lianna shrieked. She stared aghast at the dwarf who had just betrayed her and dropped Legolas’ hair as if it had bitten her. Scrambling backwards until she was pressed against the boulder she stood, covering her mouth with trembling hands as Legolas finally turned to look at her. His eyes shone with some sort of emotion that she couldn’t place, through the rest of his face was deliberately smooth.

“Lianna?” he asked softly.

Manwë and Varda, how she loved it when he said her name. It felt like a caress and a promise all in one. She pressed her lips together behind her hands, though she couldn’t bring herself to look away from him.

“Is what he says true?” the elf prince asked, still in that calm voice.

Lianna couldn’t lie to him. She was certain Gimli would disprove her if she tried anyway. She desperately wanted to say nothing, but his eyes begged her to speak. Without her consent, her shaking hands lowered from her mouth.

“I didn’t know braiding was so significant. I would never… If I’d known…”

“It’s not an elvish custom. I believe the dwarves are the only ones that practice it consistently in their culture. But that wasn’t what I asked.”

The woman swallowed hard, lost in that commanding gaze. All she could do was give a miniscule nod, one she was sure his elf eyes would have no trouble detecting.

A look of pure delight blossomed across the elf’s face. He smiled so widely that his face could barely contain it. Clambering to his knees he grasped Lianna’s hands and held them securely in his.

“Really? You feel the same as I do for you?” he asked, almost desperately.

“What? You do? I mean… That…that depends on what-“

He answered her half-formed question before she could stutter and bumble her way to the end of it. “I care for you as more than a friend. I have for a long time.”

“Oh.” Lianna’s knees trembled and she nearly toppled over in her relief. Legolas steadied her as he waited with rapt attention for her reply. “Then, yes. I believe I do.”

The elf grinned impossibly wider and bounded to his feet.

“Oh A'maelamin.”

Lianna shivered as his arms wrapped around her waist, pulling her against his lean form. She placed her hands on his chest, lightly gripping the material of his shirt. They were both beaming like idiots.

“Why didn’t you tell me sooner?” asked the elf prince, reaching up to trace her jawline with a single, gentle finger.

The human merely raised an eyebrow and her smile became crooked. “Why didn’t you tell me?” she countered.

Legolas chuckled. “Fair point.” He said.

Lianna gained enough courage to reach up and cup his face with one hand. Her thumb brushed tenderly across his cheekbone, causing the elf to lean into her touch, his eyes closed in contentment. Her index and middle finger brushed against his earlobe, causing him to draw in a sharp breath and open his eyes to look at her.

“I’m sorry. Are your ears…?”

“They’re just very sensitive, A'maelamin. All elves are the same way. It’s considered an intimate act to touch another’s ears.”

“Oh. I didn’t know.” She began to withdraw her hand, but Legolas grasped her elbow, keeping her from retreating more than a few inches. Holding her gaze he brought her hand back to his right ear and let it hover there, giving permission. Lianna swallowed and, summoning her courage, stroked his ear gently from base to gracefully pointed tip.

A shudder ran from the top of the elf’s head through his torso and down to his feet. His eyes pressed shut as he fought to hold in a pleased sigh. Lianna bit her lip in to hide her glee and proceeded to reach up and stroke his other ear once in the same manner. This time, Legolas let out a happy hum with just the barest hint of a whimper at the very end as the woman gave the tip one last caress before placing her hands back on his chest.

The elf cupped her face in both of his hands, pulling her close so that their foreheads could rest against each other’s. Lianna closed her eyes at the sensation of his warm breath mingling with hers and inhaled the smell of pine needles that surrounded him. They stayed that way for several long minutes. Both happy but unsure of what to do next. Finally, Legolas said as much.

“I’m delighted with this turn of events, dear one, but I am so overwhelmed at the moment that I’m not at all sure what to do next.”

Gimli’s gruff voice from behind them made them both jump. They’d almost forgotten he was there.

“Well if courting braids are not used by humans, and elves apparently pull each other’s ears (strange idea that, if you ask me), perhaps you should adopt a tradition that humans recognize and just kiss the girl! Unless your people don’t do that kind of thing, you empty headed tree-hugger.”

Lianna looked over Legolas’ shoulder to scowl at the dwarf. “Gimli!” she chastised.

“May I?” Legolas asked, suddenly.

She turned back to look at him, blushing despite herself. “Kiss me?” she asked.

The elf smiled and she saw him glance down at her lips. “Yes.”

“I mean, um… Is it a tradition unique to humans?” She asked, continuing to fight her blush from spreading…unsuccessfully.

“No.” Legolas said, hands still cupping her face. “I believe it’s practiced by most races to differing degrees. Humans just put slightly more emphasis on it than some.”

“Oh.” Lianna barely heard him. She was getting lost in the tender gaze he gave her.

“Lianna, may I kiss you?” he asked again.

The woman blinked to clear her thoughts and gulped. She knew she could say something gushy and romantic, but that just wasn’t her. And this moment felt too honest and real to be muddled with poetry or flowery words.

“Yes.” Was her simple, wholehearted reply.

Legolas’ eyes shone with joy, and he immediately bent his head to press warm lips gently to hers.

Though she was holding her breath, Lianna felt like the exact opposite. It felt like she was finally able to breathe for the first time in her life. An invisible weight lifted from her shoulders and she wrapped her arms securely around the elf’s neck, both of them pulling each other as close as they could get. His lips were soft and shy at first. He peppered her mouth with small kisses, like he was taking small sips of her. When she melted into him and began to press back, he kissed her more firmly, caressing her lips with his own. Then Lianna not-so-accidentally brush her fingers over the tips of his ears and the elf let out a noise that was a combination of a soft growl and a quiet moan. Threading his fingers into her own hair, Legolas tilted her head to get a better angle and deepened the kiss. Now it was Lianna’s turn to whimper as she pressed herself against his solid chest, feeling his heart pound in tandem with hers through the material of their shirts.

Finally, when she was dizzy from lack of air as well as his kisses, Legolas pulled back to look at her. He was panting slightly, just as she was. Lianna felt irrationally proud to see that his eyes looked dazed and a flush painted his normally pale face. She smiled tremulously at him and he returned it, letting out a few huffs of delighted, breathy laughter.

“A'maelamin.” He whispered, brushing over her lips with the pad of his thumb.

Lianna shivered pleasantly at the caress of his finger on her lips. “What does that mean?” she asked quietly.

“My beloved.”

“Ooh…” She shivered again, smiling.

“Sar em gabura.” Gimli cursed. “I should’ve known you’d be even more sickening once you finally got around to telling each other the truth. Mahal save me.”

Lianna turned to smirk at him, her timidness disappearing. “This is all thanks to you, master dwarf. Don’t complain now that you’ve gotten what you pushed, threatened, and meddled for.”

The elven prince’s handsome face shone with joy as he threw his head back and laughed while Gimli scowled.

“Don’t you laugh at me, gurnvos’comys [tree humper]. Khahum menu rukhas shirumundu! [Your clan are beardless orcs!]” The dwarf growled.

Legolas laughed again and said, “Llie n'vanima ar' lle atara lanneina. [You’re ugly and your mother dresses you funny.]”

Lianna knew only a few words of both elvish and dwarvish, but she got the gist of what they were saying to each other. Closing her eyes, she grumbled to herself about males and testosterone as the insult match continued.

“Men gamul khagun tabooed dan menu khuzi! [My grandma is a better warrior than you!]” Said Gimli.

“Antolle ulua sulrim. [Much wind blows from your mouth.]” Was the elf’s cheerful reply.

“Ozirum menu seleku. [You couldn’t forge a spoon.]”

“Lasta lalaithamin. [Listen to my laughter.]”

Lianna rolled her eyes in exasperation as she bent down to retrieve a long, straight branch from the ground. “That’s ENOUGH you two!” Gimli opened his mouth once more, but she was ready. Pulling back her arm, she feinted throwing the wood in the dwarf’s direction, holding it like she would a spear. He grunted and did a strange twisting leap sideways (that made him look rather ridiculous) to avoid the expected projectile. Only when he was already off-balance did she actually throw the branch, aiming it just right so that it tangled between his legs, tripping him, and sending him sprawling. Legolas laughed once more at their friend, pointing at him.

“And as for you,” The woman said, facing the elf once more. She wasn’t sure where this new courage was coming from, but she ran with it. Grasping the sides of his face with both hands (and making sure to touch as much of his ears as she could in the process) she pulled him down to her, kissing him firmly. Legolas’ undignified squawk of surprise quickly turned into hum of pleasure. He kissed her back with enthusiasm, actually groaning when she dragged her fingers over both of his hears at the same time. Feeling bold, Lianna dared to tentatively brush the tip of her tongue along his lower lip. Now he growled, opening his mouth to her so that he could taste her as well, and pulling her flush against him once more.

If they had been aware of their surroundings at all, they would have seen that four hobbits and a wizard had joined Gimli in gaping at the couple. Well, at least the hobbits were gaping. The dwarf was rolling his eyes and the wizard was chuckling in delight.

Finally, the two of them broke apart, but only pulling far enough away that their noses brushed each other.

“If this is how you punish me when I get into an argument, I can’t wait to see what you do when I actually do something really bad.” Legolas murmured breathlessly, fixing her with a cheeky grin.

Lianna rolled her eyes again. “It’s a wonder you’re still alive with all the foolhardy nonsense you get into with that dwarf. How I’ll ever manage to get both of you to Mount Doom in one piece is beyond me.”

“I have no doubt in your abilities.” Legolas crooned into her ear, making her shiver deliciously. “What are orcs compared to your wit? What are goblins compared to your strength? What is Sauron compared to your courage?” With each compliment, he pressed more feather-light kisses to her cheeks, nose, chin, and forehead. “I can survive all of the dark lord’s forces as long as you are by my side.” He purred, leaning down to kiss her mouth once more.

Suddenly harsh voice rang out across the clearing. “OI!! What are you doing with my sister?!”

The elf’s smile vanished and his face noticeably paled.

“You’re brother on the other hand, I’m not so sure about.”

meldonya (elvish) – my friend

Oio naa elealla alasse’ (elvish) – ever is thy sight a joy

Cormlle naa tanya tel'raa (elvish) - Your heart is that of the lion

Manwë and Varda – king and queen of the Valar (Middle Earth deities)

A'maelamin (elvish) – beloved

sar em gabura (dwarvish/Khadzul)– may it melt; a general dwarvish curse (dammit, bugger, f----, etc.)

Mahal – creator of the dwarves

gurnvos’comys (dwarvish/Khadzul) - tree humper

khahum menu rukhas shirumundu (dwarvish/Khudzul) – your clan are beardless orcs

Llie n'vanima ar' lle atara lanneina (elvish) – you’re ugly and your mother dresses you funny

men gamul khagun tabooed dan menu khuzi (dwarvish/Khudzul) – my grandma is a better warrior than you

Antolle ulua sulrim (elvish) – much wind pours from your mouth

ozirum menu seleku (dwarvish/Khadzul) - you couldn’t forge a spoon

Lasta lalaithamin (elvish) - Listen to my laughter.

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elvesofnoldor · 5 years

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kinda went off the rail yesterday and made a dragon age elf oc called Micah, who is based on gwindor and I plan this elf’s story into finley lavellan’s story arc in inquisition and now i decided that after my lavellan and dorian breaks up one year post-trespasser in this fanfic arc i planned for them, they aren’t gonna get back together by the end of the fic. instead, my lavellan is gonna keep taking a break from this relationship and im gonna leave it open like that. like, im not sure if i wanna ship my lavellan with this Micah (whom i actually really love right now), but lavellan x dorian is making less and less sense the more i think about it. And honestly, i dont think any sort of development dorian can have would change anything substantially.

i always have a rough time writing lavellan x dorian, cause the fact that dorian is tevinter, the fact that he shares kinship with slavers and slave owners is just always fucking ridiculous on its own. And given that lavellan is an elf in dragon age universe and there is this history of tevinters enslaving his ancestors and enacting literal and cultural genocide against his people, i always have a hard time justifying lavellan falling in love with dorian and im pretty sure other ppl has that problem too. Also, even though dorian is the head of his house now, we still dont know if he dismisses the goddamn slaves his parents owned, so there is also this bullshit. Then there is dorian “i almost definitely slept with elven sex slaves in the elven slums--who are either socially marginalized people forced into sex work or victims of sex trafficking” pavus talking about how slavery isn’t that bad in tevinter, and then turn around and wax poetic about how same-gender relationships aren’t meant to be about love in tevinter wah wah wah. Anybody who read the codex entry on tevinter culture in da:i knows that same-gender relationships are only frowned upon in tevinter imperium when it disrupts the cis-heterosexual political marriages between noble mage houses, same-gender sex and relationships are in fact ENCOURAGED in tevinter when it happens between slave owners and their slaves. so yeah, i said dorian has never been a fucking victim before, well, this is why. sexuality and class privilege/oppression are intertwined in real world and in fictional universes that mirrored the real world and believe or not, being the top of social hierarchy means dorian got the better end of the bargain. he said, oh, “anything between two men, it’s about pleasure”. yeah, specifically a slaver owner’s pleasure in violating and further dehumanizing a person lol!!! but sure dorian you are so fucking oppressed. im just. i have been wary before, of dorian. because of this slavery thing, and i never really talked abt why. and im just. i am even more wary now. and i still like dorian i guess, but, lmao. i just can’t make lavellan and dorian some sort of great love story, cause it really ain’t one. lavellan fell in love with dorian cause i insisted on having romance interests in every single one of my dragon age playthroughs--especially when it’s a canon one, but honestly he really shouldn’t have. in my fic, they broke up cause finley lavellan knew dorian used to whore around in tevinter’s elven slums/alienages, and someone lied to lavellan and said that dorian is still doing that with lavellan living at his estate, and even though lavellan knew abt the truth later, he still felt gross about sharing a bed with someone who slept with potential victims of sex trafficking, so, they are taking a break for now. it’s just bad ok, lavellan is also in the right, ok. fuck knows whats gonna happen in da4, i doubt it’d change anything--and that’s speaking on the pretence that dorian will even be involved in da4. i have this headcanon abt lavellan crafting a pair of rings for him and dorian in his forge as their engagement rings, i will retain that headcanon about the engagement rings, but the ring might not be for dorian. anyways this is elf oc is based on gwindor, and gwindor’s story is that he was an elven lord (presumably a noldor elf) of hidden kingdom of nagathrond, and he was a valiant and fierce warrior who literally charged inside The Devil Himself (morgoth)’s stronghold with his company after his little brother was brutally executed (god. poor gelmlir) in front of the elven host, unfortunately for him, everybody in his company is killed and he alone was captured and enslaved and forced to work in morgoth’s mine for 14 years. apparently during the 14 years, he was “mutilated”, his hair turned grey during the process, and the experience “sapped his strength” (i think it’s like, spiritual strength, cause it seems elves in tolkien universe draws strength and power of all kinds from their fea aka their spirit). he eventually escaped and he lost his hand in the process, and almost died from losing the goddamn hand, but then he got rescued by another elf. BUT this elf (beleg) got accidentally stabbed to death by his disaster of a human best friend soon after. And gwindor, who’s already dealing with a truck load of trauma himself, was kind enough to comfort and and guide this disaster human dude (who went in shock cause he can’t accept what he did with his own damn hands) and brought him to nagthrond aka his home. but when gwindor needed love and support the most from his loved ones, they all stop listening to him and he lost his previous influence on his people and nobody is there to help him through his trauma, and he ended up feeling like he’s unfit to be loved, which is bullshit. eventually this disaster human dude’s dumbass advice got him and everybody he loved killed. And i was like it’s pretty bullshit that this obviously traumatized character is ostracized from his community for being traumatized, instead of getting the love and support he deserves and i said thats bullshit because in this house traumatized people get to have live happily ever after. so my desire to make gwindor happy inspires the creation of this elf oc. now dragon age elves can’t really be lords or ladies or prince or princess, but the keeper and the keeper’s children are usually descendants of the elven nobilities of the dales, so, that should be close enough. Also i want more dalish mage characters anyways. This elf oc is a dalish mage, his name is Micah and he’s the First of his clan, as matter of fact. I wouldn’t say he’s exactly like merrill, but he does have merrill’s hair colour (dark raven hair but his hair is long), merrill’s eyes (more hazel than just green, but yeah) and merrill’s skin tone (light/pale). he’s also the more studio type, like merrill, and has a more bubbly personality than either of my lavellans. This dalish mage used to love the fade, and he loved the ancient songs he witnessed in the fade the most. Micah also has a beautiful voice and he’s very good at singing and he always carries a little lute with him to accompany his tunes. When he’s not nose deep in tomes about spells and magical theories and ancient texts, he’s out singing in the woods with his lute--he only performs in front of his family or his closest childhood friends since he’s not a people person. While finley lavellan has this appearance of gentleness, he can be quite ruthless and cold. And lavellan is more of a natural leader type of person. Micah, on the other hand, is truly a soft and gentle soul and is really not the kind to truly be a leader of any kind.

so what happened is that, Micah is from a clan that’s always travelling around ferelden. they settled around denerium when the fifth blight broke out (that was events of da:o), but specifically he went to the denerium alienage to trade some goods with the shop keepers at least two weeks prior to the warden’s arrival at the alienage. However, he noticed the presences of the tevinters, become worried for the alienage’s safety since he suspects these are slavers, and he’s locked in the quarantine inside because of the spread of the plague. shianni found him trying to warn the sick alienage residents and shared her concern, but at the time shianni is just suspicious and not openly oppose to the tevinters’ presences. now in da:o, im pretty sure if you are an elf warden at least, you can feign sickness and get “admitted” in, but then you’d get stripped of your belongings and had to fight 14 tevinter enemies with literally no weapon so im pretty sure you weren’t supposed to do that (i did that cause i was a dumbass). so what happens is that Micah tried doing that, he ended up fighting a dozen and more soldiers with no weapon or any sort and was quickly subdued. And he was shipped away with the rest of alienage residents before the warden ever got to confront the tevinter slavers unfortunately. he just turned 20. Then after his disappearance, shianni becomes more openly oppose to the tevinters’ presences at the alienage since she’s more convinced that something fishy is going on. so...a tevinter magister had him....for 10 years. that guy is a blood mage and he’s also like, basically danarius. so like, a demon. Not gonna go into detail about what happened because i dont like to talk too much about actual events that caused the traumas, i just wanna talk about the recovery and dealing with the trauma. but, basically, micah revealed right away that he is a mage, hoping the status of being a mage’d get him released in tevinter but that didn’t happen and the magister kept using his blood to fuel his spells, since his blood is potent with magic. later, the magister also experimented on him with semi-refined lyrium to make his blood even more potent but the experimentation failed and permanently blinded Micah and turned his hair white and he received a long scar from the left eye that goes straight down to his lips and continues down the right half of his torso. Basically, instead of losing a hand like gwindor, Micah lost his sight. And apparently, in canon, king maric got captured by this tevinter blood mage magister dude and alistair had to go and save him or whatever but king maric was hooked to this machine and trapped in this dream-state in the fade so that the blood mage can use his blood and life force to fuel spells. so after Micah is blinded and disfigured and deemed not as “useful” as he is before, what happened to king maric sort of happened to him, but he didn’t spend long enough time hook to the machine so he isn’t gonna die once he’s unhooked from the machine. for a while, Micah doesn’t even know he was trapped in a dream, and when he realizes he’s trapped in the fade, he couldn’t get out and back into his body. Events of inquisition start to happen, this tevinter magister is obviously a venatori, and he went south after the inquisition started to fight the venatori everywhere, probably as reinforcement. he brought Micah with him. And i think my lavellan either confronted this blood mage at hissing wastes (maybe it’s the moutaintop camp? maybe it’s after you cleared out the venatori at hissing waste and he came as reinforcement?). not to digress but i’d love to fight a blood mage in inquisition but that was not meant to be, so it’s happening in this oc fanfic scenario. Inquisitor finley lavellan had a very hard time trying to get to this guy, and know he’s a quite a powerful mage, and he is forced to retreat with his companions and inquisiton soldiers to the camp. This time lavellan decided to sneak in while his party member created a distraction outside, and once inside the camp, he discovered poor micah hooked to a machine--presumably the source of the magister’s power. pegging the machine as something that traps the elf in the fade, lavellan connects himself to the machine and went to find micah in the fade. With lavellan’s help, micah is able to break away from the eternal dream and wake up. his body is obviously frail from spending a few years immobile, so lavellan tried to sneak out with micah in his arms but they were confronted by the magister who brought numerous archers and ambushed them at the lobby (inside some mountain at hissing waste), lavellan opened one or two rifts to suck in the archers, and petrified the magister with earth magic enhanced by the anchor’s connection to the fade (the magister is immobile and his flesh is slowly hardening from the earth magic but he’s alive and acutely and painfully aware of what’s happening to his body). Micah is the one who got the tear the magister from limb to limb with his own magic and explode him into chunks of meat, avenging the abuse that’s done to him. and finley brought micah with him to skyhold and there he rests and recovers. finley, inquisition mages (not dorian though, him being tevinter mage and a mediocre healer and all, it’s more like, vivenne and solas actually) all help to nurture him back to health. he become healthy again, even though he is still blind and his hair remains the same grey white colour and the scar that disfigured his face is unremovable. Micah unfortunately becomes afraid of the fade and hates it when he dreams, sometime he’d wake up terrified, not knowing if he wakes up from a dream or if he just drops into one. It was with finley’s help that he become more aware of what’s dream and what’s reality. while Micah’s at skyhold, micah and finley becomes good friends as finley constantly visits him and even brings him a lute after knowing micah loves to play and sings. they become close enough that micah is comfortable singing to finley. micah didn’t get involved with inquisition business while he’s recovering, however, he did discover a way to “see” with the tap of his feet and sounds bouncing off object, kinda like how toph (btw i love toph) “see” with passive earth bending. i like to think micah always favours earth magic and telekinesis and rarely uses other elemental magic. Micah ends up combining his telekinesis skills with a form of weaponizing sounds (it’s sound bending lmao) and develops something very close to the force mage specialization in da 2. aka pushing people off with force of sound, manipulating gravity. And Micah uses sound to “see”, basically. And singing evolves from a hobby to necessity, since humming/singing or playing an instrument allows him to “see”, so that he’s not trapped in an eternal darkness. with finley’s help, micah finds his way back to his clan still wandering around ferelden and they tearfully welcomed his return after presuming him dead for years. That was like, right after the events of inquisition main game concludes. Then three years later, micah crosses finley again in tevinter out of all places. turns out that micah has seen the dread wolf/solas in the fade and he was offered to join him but micah is loyal to finley and did not answer. More importantly, ever since micah is back, he hate it that everybody pities him. even though his clan loves him still, they treat him like a broken fragile thing who can’t take care of himself. And micah, is able to walk around and goes about his daily business as anybody who has their sights, is sick of people pitying him. The fact that he is no longer the First as he is seen incapable of becoming the keeper angers him (and micah is almost never angry), so he willingly left the clan and started his own journey to find out more about the dread wolf and that journey allows him to cross path with finley again. when micah met finley again, finley has already break up with dorian and now lived in the cottage he built somewhere in the woods at the outskirt of some city. There, they both devised the plan to venture out to ruins of Arlathan as companions to find out the truth about the blight and solas’ plan/stopping solas.

#yolanda talks #finley lavellan

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