Tumgik
#legolas whump
emilybeemartin · 8 months
Text
Tumblr media
On today's episode of LotR AU: Boromir Lives, it's after the battle of Pelennor Fields! There are so many great possibilities to explore when Boromir finally, finally returns to Minas Tirith--- making the agonizing decision to follow Aragorn through the Paths of the Dead instead of going straight to the city with Theoden, fighting like a demon outside the gates, learning about his father's death, and then choosing to leave again to accompany Aragorn to the Black Gate, but right now it's WHUMP TIME.
Tumblr media
Obviously, first up is Faramir. If Boromir is with Aragorn, he won't enter the city until after the battle, and so he wouldn't know anything about Faramir's flight from Osgiliath or the pyre in the tombs.
Tumblr media
In the few days between the battle and leaving for the Black Gate, I envision Boromir operating on undiluted adrenaline as the wounded and dead are tended. Who needs food? Who needs sleep? Not Boromir. He's returned to his city at its lowest possible moment and he's going to DO EVERYTHING TO FIX EVERYONE ALL AT ONCE.
Tumblr media
The scene where Pippin finds Merry wounded and dazed and wandering the streets, has always been a favorite of mine and was one of the first LotR illustrations I ever did ~20 years ago. In the book, Gandalf is the one who comes to carry Merry up to the Houses of Healing. In this AU, you know it's Boromir.
Tumblr media
Anyway, eventually Legolas and Gimli probably have to force some rudimentary self-care.
Tumblr media
Boromir Lives AU: Aragorn's Coronation
Boromir Lives AU: Faramir and Eowyn's Wedding
4K notes · View notes
azaisya · 19 hours
Text
Tumblr media
@just-another-linguist and @melestasflight both requested Fingon which was v exciting. Fingon is one of the characters that really stuck with me the first time I read the Silm, but I’ve never actually drawn him. In my mind this is like a Valinor-era Fingon!
145 notes · View notes
aceofwhump · 1 year
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
Lord of the Rings: The Return of the King
277 notes · View notes
feelingpoorly · 5 months
Text
i wish i could draw so badly because i so badly wanna see sick fan art for one of my fav characters, knowing that sick fan art for this character will categorically never exist unless i created it myself :')
26 notes · View notes
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
@febuwhump DAY 23: “You’ll Have to Go Through Me”
Tauriel confronts King Thranduil as he prepares to abandon the Dwarves to their deaths. When Thranduil threatens to kill her for her defiance, Legolas stands firmly between them.
61 notes · View notes
meadowsofmay · 9 months
Text
a warning for a father:
thranduil felt it pulsing through the woods — trouble, panic, terror — and the unsteady beat became more erratic as it grew faster. he tried to call for an answer, reaching out to the sick forest but none came, only murmurs of something terrible, wheezes in-between scared trunks and darkness closing under thick canopies tied with webs somewhere up high. he felt as if he is caught in a trap and it is about to close around him, loudly pronouncing to everyone that it was that easy to catch him out of all.
the air grew stale in the walls of his halls. thranduil paced around not able to catch his breath, not able to fill his lungs enough to stop the anxiety from squeezing his ribcage more till it will break. sudden steps behind the doors made him grab the hilt of his sword attached heavily to his hip — thranduil realized only at that how tense he was for his blade never weighted him down as it did at that very moment.
and for he doesn't remember when was the last time he was ready to draw it because his emotions took best of him.
feren walked in, his steps uncharacteristically loud and heavy for thranduil's alert senses. he looked pale, thranduil noticed, not getting closer and keeping to the entrance as if he'd be ready to run back after reporting whatever has brought him here. thranduil didn't ask a question but the expectant look and the sudden stillness of time itself was enough for the guard to announce, more like let the strained words out gundabad sent a messenger.
thranduil felt his composure waver. and it wasn't about the fact that the hated foe decided to contact him out of the blue but for the nature herself was screaming in his ears danger!. he gulped audibly and grabbed his sword again, the fake sense of security seeping into his numb fingers, allowing his voice not to fail him.
bring him in then.
he wishes to speak outside, my lord. he says it was his order.
feren looked conflicted at best, reminding thranduil of a tightly compressed spring that was ready to jump into action only give it an opportunity. and any other day, thranduil would allow it, with a wave of his hand setting feren free to pass the orders but today he knew better. he followed his lead to the front gate.
and now, he was here. before the carved heavy gates, almost ready to come out and face whatever it was that their enemy brought him.
straightening his back and raising his head, he stepped out leaving terrified guards behind without hesitation. yet, he had to admit that the sound of the strings tightening under the pull of their skilled fingers comforted him a little.
what brings you here? he asked making a quick stop before the bridge. he listened to the surroundings, to the wind carrying the foul smell full of malice before at last he eyed the orc on the opposing end.
and it was almost as if he was allowed to dwell on his anxious conclusions before the orc started to talk. bowing, he rasped:
my master has a gift for the elvenking, his uneven mouth stretched into an ugly snarling smile. but before allow me to... he started as he pulled a bow and a quiver form behind his back. thranduil's eyes widened. he gasped, stepping closer.
legolas!
we found it in the forest a couple of days ago, the orc talked slowly, dragging the words off his tongue, thought it might be one of yours...
he was mocking the elvenking's mere existence, not scared of at least the dozen elf-guards keeping him on their arrows' point. he had power and he relished in it, for he had the elvenking in the palm of his hand only with a sight of his son's weapons.
thranduil understood now what the woods were trying to tell him but he was just so deaf to their warnings. legolas left with his company on the patrol three nights ago and was meant to return tomorrow, the task as easy as any other when the enemy roamed around freely in the land the elves refused to give up. thranduil felt his mask of carful composure crumble. they found out about legolas at last.
where is my son? he snapped, finally drawing his sword.
don't be so impatient, my lord, the orc was almost laughing now, extending his arm with the bow and quiver for thranduil to come and take. he was pulling the strings so expertly that thranduil didn't know what to do only to follow the silent offer and crossethe bridge. the clearance of mind completely forgotten the moment golden carvings touched his fingers.
where is my son? thranduil knew his restraint was growing thinner to the point where he was about to cut the the orc's throat right here and there without finishing their conversation. he needed to know if legolas was alive.
he's here, the answer took thranduil by surprise for he didn't even notice the small chest under the orc's arm. the one that he took out, smiled widely up at the elvenking and tauntingly slow opened the lid with a squeak.
his dark, inflamed eyes waited with feral excitement for thranduil's reaction, tracing every part of his face with hunger for any emotion. and yet, thranduil didn't dare to look down right away.
he thought about every possible thing that could possibly be in the chest this small — orcs are malicious, cruelty is the blood of their creation and thranduil feared to see what they came up with for his son. the tremble run through his body.
he looked into the chest.
what is this?!
don't you recognize, my lord? think! think with this pretty head of yours.
but thranduil just couldn't believe. he gaped wordlessly. inside there, laid out in a meticulously careful way, were legolas' hair — the same golden flicker of roughly cut strands, the wave of almost untangled braids that usually are braided tight and neat. thranduil gasped seeing splutters of blood, he drew the air in so abruptly he choked, a silent cry of the father's broken heart. he payed absolutely mind to the clatter of the arrows falling out of legolas' quiver as it collided with the hard groud, slipped out of thranduil's hands like the control he had over his son's safety.
he couldn't find it in himself to touch, shaking fingers hovering over the chest. the orc let go of the lid and it slammed thranduil's hands suddenly.
he's alive, the orc mused, but not for long... it's either him or you, my lord.
and it's like he was snapped back into reality. inside he felt it shaking, prickling at his eyes like the most acid smell — anger took over him, consuming every sane bit of his conscience. thranduil knew what he ought to do.
he was gonna make them pay.
but not before he'd bring his son home.
26 notes · View notes
katajainen · 4 months
Text
Here and Hereafter (1668 words) by katajainen Chapters: 2/2 Fandom: The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien Rating: Not Rated Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Gimli (Son of Glóin)/Legolas Greenleaf Characters: Gimli (Son of Glóin), Legolas Greenleaf Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Zombie Apocalypse, Whump, Hurt No Comfort, Gruesome Physical Injury, Aftermath of brutality, Body Horror, the author is not sorry, Additional warnings for ch. 2 in author's note Series: Part 1 of Whumptober 2021 - Now with zombies! Summary:
Whumptober 2021 prompts no.1: barbed wire (chapter 1), and no. 30: major character death (chapter 2).
*
I swear this wasn't supposed to have a chapter 2, and when I realised I was writing one anyway, it wasn't supposed to be 1500 words long... Anyway, come read it here and wallow in the agony with me!
6 notes · View notes
heartofstanding · 5 months
Text
there's a part of me wondering that the fandom propensity to whump their favourites (the iconic example to me is legolas - that elf was put in so many situations, none of them good) is akin to the desire to see/witness the suffering of saints and martyrs. was legolas, in a way, the lotr fandom's st. sebastian?
7 notes · View notes
online-single-player · 8 months
Text
Legolas gets cursed
Summary: Legolas gets put under some curse that makes him sick and he freaks tf out about it cause doesn’t know what’s going on
Note: This is set some time in the third age when Legolas is relatively young, and Tauriel is probably even younger.
TW: emeto, high fever, delirium, fainting
———
Legolas was riding back from the woods when he started to feel …strange.
He had just defeated a sorcerer who was killing animals in the forest. She wasn’t very dangerous, but she was a nuisance.
Something is off, I can feel it. But what is it?
He usually got some strange sensations when evil was afoot, but he would recognize those. This was different.
His stomach felt unsettled, like it sometimes did when he was very worried, but he had nothing to worry about at the moment. He felt oddly cold, shivering in his cloak in the broad sunlight.
“Is it colder than usual, or is it just me?” he asked the guards at the gate.
They glanced at one another.
“It doesn’t seem cold to me, sir,” one of them answered.
“No,” the other one added, “in fact it’s rather warm, sir.”
Legolas nodded in acknowledgement, then dismounted his horse and went on into the castle without another word.
He put his horse in the stables and went to see his father.
•••
His father was not on his throne. He walked all the way up the many stairs to the throne room for nothing, and he was far more exhausted than he should have been.
Legolas went down to his room.
I haven’t slept much of late. Perhaps that would help.
He decided to try taking a nap. He was so tired, he didn’t bother changing clothes. He simply removed his boots and cloak and slipped under the covers, then in minutes he was asleep.
•••
He awoke feeling much worse than he had before.
He checked the clock. It had been five hours. He rarely ever slept for that long without waking up.
There were other alarming developments. The sheets and his clothes were damp with what must have been sweat.
Why is this happening to me? I must seek aid immediately.
He practically jumped out of bed. Seconds later, he felt a strange tingling in his head and his vision filled with many colored spots. He lost his balance and fell to his hands and knees as the room seemed to spin around him. He tried to blink the dots away but it didn’t work.
He couldn’t figure out what was going on, and it was starting to worry him deeply.
Get up! his father’s angry voice told him in the back of his mind. Don’t be weak.
He took a deep breath and stood up carefully. The spots slowly cleared, and once he could see again, he looked over himself in the mirror. His skin seemed paler than normal, except for his cheeks, nose, and the tips of his ears, which were a vibrant pink. There was a slight sheen of sweat on his face.
He put on his boots and cloak and flipped the hood up so hopefully no one would look at his face. He walked out into the vast halls.
He wandered aimlessly for several minutes before he realized he had no idea where he was going.
Who should I go to? Maybe the healers? But if this is dark magic, I should go to someone who knows more about that type of thing… or maybe I’ve been poisoned… where am I?
He looked around, trying to get his bearings, but all the halls and doors and caves seemed to look the same. He was distracted by an odd bubbling feeling in his stomach.
“Mister, are you alright?” a stranger asked.
His eyes snapped to the person’s face.
“Oh- sir Legolas? Or am I mistaken?” he said, looking almost as confused as Legolas felt.
“No, you are not mistaken. It is me,” Legolas answered. “And I am fine.” He quickly turned and walked away before the man could question him any further.
His stomach was churning. A bubble of air forced its way up his throat. He covered his hand with a fist as he let it out as quietly as possible.
What am I, a dwarf? This is…
His train of thought trailed off as it happened again. Terribly embarrassed, he ducked away into the nearest dark, empty cave.
His stomach lurched. More air came up his throat, but this time it brought with it a small amount of vile, thick liquid. It tasted like the food he had eaten at breakfast. He instinctively leaned over and let it fall out onto the ground, luckily missing his boots.
He barely had time to process what happened to him before his stomach convulsed again, sending a comparatively huge burst of chunk-laden sludge spewing out of him and splattering all over the ground and wall in front of him.
He coughed and sputtered, desperately trying to catch his breath, but soon another heave came, sending more disgusting slurry hurling from his mouth.
The process repeated several more times, purging everything from his stomach. He felt like he was suffocating until it finally ended, leaving him shaking and weary.
He couldn’t think straight. He couldn’t see straight. The colorful dots had returned. He stumbled out of the alley. There were courtiers and servants milling about, minding their business, seemingly not noticing him.
Who can help me? Who would understand this?
There was only one person his mind could come up with.
Tauriel.
He stopped someone walking by.
“Where is Tauriel?” he asked desperately.
“Who?” the person said, confused.
He pushed them aside and moved on to someone else.
“Do you know where Tauriel is?”
“No, I don’t, sorry,” the random woman replied.
He continued stopping people in the halls and asking them where Tauriel was until someone finally told him they had seen her going out into the forest not long ago.
He made his way out of the cellars—he honestly didn’t remember how he got there in the first place, but that was of no concern to him now—and found his horse, then rode out into the forest.
The midday spring sun shone between the green leaves, and yet he felt like it could have been the dead of winter. With every minute that passed he felt worse. The uneasiness in his stomach had never fully settled, but it was growing stronger again with the jostling up and down.
Eventually he had to dismount his horse and let his body purge itself again. He leaned on a tree for support, his legs weak and trembling. He coughed and heaved several times, but nothing came of it. With an especially violent convulsion, a little bit of acidic liquid ran down his tongue and dripped from his lips.
The disgusting feeling and taste made his stomach tense again, painfully sending up another trickle of yellow-green acid.
He couldn’t stop coughing and heaving unproductively for the next few minutes. There was clearly nothing left to expel, but he had no control of his body. His utter helplessness terrified him.
Finally, he caught his breath. As soon as he could, he staggered back to his horse and mounted it again.
•••
He had searched the city part of the forest and was now in the wilderness part. Tauriel was seemingly nowhere to be found.
He became so weak and dizzy that he could no longer hold himself upright. Still, the thought of giving up looking for her never crossed his mind.
“Find Tauriel for me,” he said to his horse.
His head rested in its soft mane. He fought the urge to sleep as it continued trotting along.
For a moment his grip on his horse loosened too much. Before he knew it he was sliding off and it was too late to catch himself. He landed hard on his back on the forest floor, the wind swiftly knocked out of him.
He gasped for breath.
He tried to get up but it was no use. He could barely move his fingers. His horse nudged his face and whinnied.
“I can’t,” he panted. “Find her for me. Go.”
The horse paced away hesitantly, looking back at him every so often until he was out of view.
He stared up at the canopy of the trees. They were as beautiful as ever, despite seemingly spinning around him and being occasionally obscured by the bright-colored dots in his vision.
•••
The chirping of the birds had faded into the background. He could barely see anything anymore. His chest felt heavy, so heavy that he couldn’t stop thinking about breathing, or else he would stop breathing. His hands and feet were tingling and numb. He didn’t have much hope left.
A new sound entered his awareness.
It was a voice calling his name.
“Legolas?”
A woman’s voice.
“Legolas, where are you?”
Tauriel’s voice. Finally, she’s here!
He turned his head toward the sound and saw two horses coming toward him, one with the beautiful redhead riding it.
“Legolas!” she exclaimed as she finally saw him laying on the ground.
Her horse galloped to his side, then slid to a halt as she jumped off its back.
“Legolas, what happened to you?” she asked.
There was great worry in her eyes. She held his face in her hands.
“Tauriel,” he whispered with relief.
For some reason, it was all he could say. She said something else, but he could not understand because high-pitched ringing noise filled his ears. His eyes fell closed.
He felt her pick him up and put her on her horse.
•••
The next thing he knew, he was laying on his back on something soft. He assumed it must be his bed. He felt warm, comfortable and well-rested.
He opened his eyes. His ceiling looked different than usual somehow.
“Legolas? Do you hear me?” Tauriel’s voice asked from beside him.
He turned his head to look at her and saw more people than he expected to. He sat up.
“Where am I?” he asked, trying not to sound too panicked.
���Back home,” Tauriel told him. “Don’t worry.”
“Do you feel better?” one of the other elves in the room asked.
He took a second look at them and realized they were healers.
“I feel fine. What happened?”
“It seems you were struck with a minor curse, and we’re not sure how, but you ended up in the wild. Fortunately Tauriel found you and brought you back.”
“I’m not sure how that happened either.”
———
Forgive me for the abrupt ending lol, I just wanted to get this posted already and move on, but I hope you enjoyed it anyway!
14 notes · View notes
angsty-violet · 3 months
Text
Working to Exhaustion
After the war, after they had triumphed against Sauron, the Fellowship had been disbanded. There was simply no need for it anymore. It had been six years since the great war, and Aragorn still felt like it had only been a few months. He kept expecting to hear news of the hobbits from Gandalf or be plotting a vacation to the Shire. But that was just a fantasy.
The hobbits had returned to the Shire, and they were doing their best to fit back in. Boromir was gone, and that still tore at Aragorn. And finally, Gandalf and Frodo had gone to the Undying Lands with the elves and Bilbo. Aragorn understood why, but he still mourned their loss. It seemed sometimes all he could do was mourn.
But not all of their connections faded when the Fellowship ended. Aragorn knew that the hobbits would care for each other. He often thought of them there, in the Shire. They were all different than when they had left. Experiences like these are bound to change you. Aragorn wondered how they fared now, they had returned to their simple lives. Did they miss aspects of it? Did they tell stories of their brave deeds? Or maybe they just buried it. Carried it in their hearts and never spoke of the unimaginable things they had done. Aragon hoped they spoke of the things they had done and that their family and friends had even an inkling of what they had accomplished.
The other members of the Fellowship had certainly gained much acclaim. Aragorn found himself busier than ever. He had known that taking the throne would be a lot of work. He hadn’t been ready for how terribly tried it all left him.
There was little for it but to keep working and hoping it would ease up some.
Aragorn moved slowly. He couldn’t hardly see for the pounding in his head and the fact that his eyes kept trying to close. The last time he had felt this exhausted had been during the battle at the black gate. Where days of fighting and no rest had left him weary. Where grief had threatened to eclipse him. He didn’t understand how it was possible that just working was having the same effect.
Gimli and Legolas were waiting in one of the meeting rooms for Aragorn, and he wasn’t going to let something so paltry as a headache stop him. As soon as Arwen had told him they were in the city for a visit, he had started to rearrange his schedule. Arwen had helped quite a bit, of course. She and Faramir did their best to ensure his schedule was somewhat reasonable, even when it never seemed to be.
He opened the door quietly and took in the changes of his closest friends.
Gimli was considerably cleaner than he usually was. His beard was braided elaborately with new beads and tucked into his belt. His clothes were also of a much higher quality than anything Aragorn had seen him in.
Several months into the journey, Aragorn had discovered that his usual hard, rough cloth was because it was what he had grown up in, not lack of availability. As the son of a surviving member of Thorin’s company, he was entitled to almost anything in the mountain. He simply preferred the simpler fair. Now, his clothes were of a softer make and very well fitted to his body.
He wasn’t the only one who had changed. Legolas wore several beads in his hair and carried a small blade of dwarfish make. There also seemed to be a difference in the way he carried himself. A lightness to his entire person.
They heard his approach and turned to him, both faces lighting up. Then they both fell.
“You look awful.” Legolas’ words were blunt. Gimli nodded beside him.
“You both must have changed by this relationship if you’re agreeing on something.”
“Ah, no point in denying a plain truth.” Gimli’s words were tinged with worry.
Aragorn shrugged lightly and then clutched his head in pain. Legolas caught him.
“My friend, you’ve been working too much,” Legolas said.
Aragorn shook his head in disagreement. “No.”
Gimli snorted. “How can you say that when the result is plain in front of us?”
Aragorn felt the urge to argue, but his head was pounding, and his vision was swimming.
“A king is no good to his people if he has been worked to exhaustion. You must take some rest.”
“Absolutely not. I haven’t seen either of you in months! You may not have a chance to visit again from your part of the map for months or even years. I’m not going to sleep away the visit from the only friends I still have left.”
Gimli and Legolas glanced at each other, and Aragorn suddenly felt very alone. He wasn’t sure when they had developed the ability to know each other’s minds from a single glance. They hadn’t been able to do that when Aragorn had parted from them after the ring was destroyed. It felt like he had missed all of their relationship. And now he was going to miss more because he was too tired to stay with them.
“What if you were to rest with us there?”
Aragorn glanced at them. He must’ve been more tired than he realized because it took a moment for him to understand what they were saying.
“You mean you would….”
“Just sleep, mind you.” Legolas put a very firm point on that.
Aragorn glanced between them. He probably wasn’t the only one who could use a little rest. “Alright, as long as you promise to stay the entire time with me.”
Legolas narrowed his eyes, never liking to be told what to do by anybody.
“As long as you are actually resting, we shall stay.”
Aragorn beamed at them and motioned toward the door. Legolas took one of his arms, apparently deciding he wasn’t going to leave anything to chance. Gimli simply fell into step beside them.
1 note · View note
captainkirkk · 6 months
Text
✩ WEEKLY FIC ROUND-UP ✩
All the fics I’ve read and really enjoyed in the past week-ish. Reminder: This list features any and all ratings and themes. Please look at tags and warnings on ao3 before reading
DC
Do You Still Believe In Love I Wonder? by PrinceJakeFireCake
Tim Drake has always known he would die young. The how and why were vague, but it would be young. He’s prepared for that.
He’s a bit less prepared for how worried his family and friends are.
all these stars are silent by distracted_dragon
If there is one singular truth in the universe, it is this: Timothy Jackson Drake-Wayne will never allow any harm to be inflicted on Conner Kent ever again.
Lord of the Rings
Endearment by smilebackwards
Legolas and Gimli refer to each other by elvish and dwarvish terms of endearment. They do not, however, translate these words for each other.
How to Train Your Dragon
Empirical by GalaxyThreads
Five times the riders realized they didn't know Hiccup as well as they thought, and the one time they knew him better than the rest of Berk. (Riders!Fam)(Gen, no smut) Whump! (One-shot)
Clone Wars
Foelu by MerlynBane
Foelu [fo.e.lu] v. Dai Bendu 1. To change.
As the only one of his kind in the Order and perhaps only the third in its history, almost all of what they know about Obi-Wan's people is limited what they've been able to observe as he's grown up. When his implant expires and wartime shortages make it impossible to get their hands on a replacement, Obi-Wan learns about something else his body can do--for better or worse.
SVSSS
flowers for my beloved by texturralize
Time travel, from the perspective of the man living in the past.
After seeing the other world's happy, good Shen Qingqiu, Bingge comes up with a plan: go back in time himself to when his Shen Qingqiu was younger and seduce him. And seducing him, it seems, is all too easy.
The Peak Lords of Cang Qiong are nonplussed, to say the least, when a mysterious man begins appearing around the sect, hounding Shen Qingqiu's steps. Flattering him, making him laugh, bringing out a side of him they've never seen before. And very blatantly trying to steal their Qing Jing Lord and make off with him.
175 notes · View notes
emilybeemartin · 6 months
Text
Boromir Lives AU: Helm's Deep
This is going to make more sense if you read my illustrated dissertation on Boromir's hair length and emotional stability across the trilogy.
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
There's a reason Boromir had to die in canon and it's because there's too much opportunity for CHARACTER DEVELOPMENNTT
Also
Tumblr media
Temporary crisis
Gimli's pissed
Tumblr media
Legolas makes a shirt that says I slapped Boromir at Helm's Deep and all I got was a blunted arrow.
Hey, it worked, though. Bad luck for the uruks who happened to be first through the breach of the Deeping Wall.
Tumblr media
"GONDORRRRRR"
Tumblr media
Boromir Lives: Whump-Time After Pelennor
Boromir Lives: GO TO SLEEP
Boromir Lives: Aragorn's Coronation
Boromir Lives: Faramir and Eowyn's Wedding
3K notes · View notes
bunfloras · 1 year
Text
“bun i’m so glad you’re getting into lotr”
you fools. lotr was my first ever fandom. my first ever fics i wrote were aragorn and legolas whump fics at age 11.
in summary, i am going to break your hearts.
50 notes · View notes
aceofwhump · 1 year
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
Lord of the Rings: The Return of the King
158 notes · View notes
feelingpoorly · 11 months
Text
For You- Part 2
If you've not checked out part 1 yet, you can find it below! (Who knows if I've linked it correctly or not, I hope so lol)
But anyway, Part 2 is finally here! Hope you enjoy :)
---
Evening was drawing in on them, yet their progress was painfully slow. She was struggling to keep him upright now; he barely seemed able to hold his head up let alone walk. They’d been walking in silence only occasionally broken by his pained groans, until he suddenly stopped moving altogether. 
“‘Las?” She prompted gently, concern filling her eyes as she took in his face as he blanched chalk white. She could feel him trembling under her touch, and it was obvious he felt awful.
“Taur- I don’t… feel well…” he managed thickly, bringing a shaking hand up to cover his mouth. Suddenly he pulled away from her and stumbled towards the nearest tree, barely catching himself on it. 
Everything was spinning. He wasn’t sure whether he was frozen to the bone or boiling from the inside out. Something was very wrong with him but he felt so ill that it was all he could focus on.
She rushed after him but before she could even reach him, he collapsed to the ground and was violently sick, his stomach cramping so painfully that it caused him to groan out loud. He was sprawled across the floor, just barely holding himself up on shaking arms as he continued to be miserably sick, his stomach lurching as he retched and heaved, every movement tearing fresh agony through his injured side as the muscles in his abdomen spasmed and tensed involuntarily, making him want to cry out in pain.
Tauriel gasped, quickly falling to her knees beside him as she tended gently to him, holding him upright when his own arms couldn’t support him. It didn’t take long before he had thrown up everything he had eaten that day, but the sickness was relentless. 
She rubbed his back; he was throwing up bile now, shaking like a leaf. Eventually, only when there was truly nothing left inside him, he fell back into her, his body worryingly hot in her arms. His insides were still churning and he felt horrifically nauseous but apparently his body had purged all it could, the dry heaves ripping his body to shreds and tearing at his throat. On instinct she felt his forehead and her heart fell as she realised whilst he had been ice cold earlier, he was now running a temperature. 
This was so much worse than she had realised. It had been bad enough to begin with but now it was obvious that something was very, very wrong.
“I’m… so sorry…” his voice was low and thick with nausea, as he fought desperately to maintain control over his stomach and not start heaving again. He felt mortified that she should have to see this, yet at the same time as his body endeavoured to rid him of everything he’d ever eaten, he felt far too exhausted and sick to dwell on it too much.
“You have nothing to apologise for!” She reassured him, laying him down as he weakly complied, too spent to protest. Legolas had hoped the humiliation was over, but his features creased in discomfort and he moaned as his stomach rolled again. Tauriel gently wiped his face of what he had thrown up. He felt so miserable that he didn’t even resist. 
“Something is wrong.” She worried, taking his wrist in her hand to find his pulse racing and far, far too fast. She bit her lip and tried to stay calm for his sake. “I need to look at your wound.” Legolas barely made a noise in reply, too concerned with the nausea that still refused to release its hold on him. 
She had a horrible feeling what could be causing this sudden sickness, and as she pulled away his shirt, her worst fears were confirmed. 
“Poison…” 
Thin black tendrils spread across his fair skin, branching out from where the arrow still resided. 
“This cannot go on. We need to get this arrow out of you, now.”
“It is not possible…” he replied quietly, his voice so hoarse and painful sounding she barely understood him. He swallowed thickly and winced. 
“We have no choice… I-“
“No, Tauriel. It’s barbed.” He closed his eyes in defeat. He felt absolutely awful and he knew it was only going to continue getting worse until they got the wretched thing out of him.
“Barbed? How do you know?” She was glad she hadn’t acted on instinct and yanked it out of him as soon as they realised it was poisoned. 
“I recognise these arrows, I’ve seen them before…” he was feeling worse again, his breathing hitching nauseously “-can’t remove them… barbed…”
He reached into his cloak and shakily handed her the other end of the shaft she had snapped off. She inspected it, a wave of dread crashing over her as she realised he was right. She hadn’t realised he’d kept it, but it was a good job he had. Judging by the way it had bled earlier, she could’ve killed him in a matter of minutes if she’d tried to yank out a barbed arrow.
“Ai valar…” Tauriel blanched herself. This couldn’t be happening. They were still so far from help. She looked around frantically- they were rapidly losing the light, and it was becoming increasingly apparent that getting him back to the palace tonight was impossible with him in this condition. But the alternative was almost just as unthinkable. If she could just get him through the night… Tauriel knew if they hadn’t returned by morning, someone would notice they were missing and realise they were in trouble, and a rescue party would be sent out. 
However…the dark forests of Mirkwood were a dangerous place. Not only would she have to get them through the night, she also had to somehow keep her very sick companion alive.  
Beside her, Legolas weakly rolled to his side and was sick again, and whilst she rubbed his back as he heaved, her mind was made up. 
He wasn’t well enough to be going anywhere. A rescue party was their only hope.
“Do you think you can stand?” She asked him, her voice thick with worry. It was a stupid question. Even as she spoke, Tauriel was still holding the blonde elf’s hair back, but Legolas’ exhausted body could barely muster the strength to retch anymore. 
An uneasy groan was the only reply he could manage; his throat felt like it had been scrubbed raw with the bark of oak and his stomach was aching fiercely, although whether it was just from the exertion or instead the poison, he couldn’t tell. The incessant heaving had only succeeded in massively aggravating the wound, and slowly and painfully he curled into a tight ball of misery. Another cramp laced through him and he swallowed down another treacherous lurch of his stomach, groaning slightly. 
“Goheno nin...” Forgive me… She apologised gently when he was evidently unable to respond, her delicate fingers deftly braiding more of his loose hair back into a thicker fishtail absentmindedly, her heart sinking as she realised why she was doing so. The sickness, and indeed everything else, was only going to get worse. She was anxious to move him somewhere safer and more sheltered as soon as possible, but he had also just been very very sick and he didn’t look like he was even up to moving, let alone standing.
“Just- give me a- a minute…” he whispered, letting out a tense breath and clearing his throat roughly. He closed his eyes and tried to compose himself, hating how weak he felt, how little control he had of his body. After a few long moments, he opened his heavy eyes to see her kneeling next to him, watching him with a heartbreaking look of concern.
Maybe it was because he felt so lightheaded and out of it; his senses so preoccupied with the pain and sickness, or maybe it was the fact that for the first time in his long life, he realised he knew what it felt to fear death, but in that moment, he reached out his hand and grasped hers weakly in his own. 
Tauriel took his limp, blood stained hand in both of her own. She blew her warm breath into her cupped hands to try and warm his ice cold fingers. 
A fresh pang of sadness and guilt ran through her. It was because of her that he was in this awful state. They had been inseparable since they were elflings, yet all of that had long since changed, and up until tonight she wasn’t entirely sure you could even call them friends anymore. More: “reluctant acquaintances”. Neither of them ever made reference to how close they used to be, they treated each other with the cold indifference that you might any stranger that you were forced to spend time with.
Yet, he’d literally taken an arrow for her, seemingly without a moment's hesitation. 
Why?
Legolas was trembling dreadfully. Without thinking Tauriel took a blanket out of her pack and started to wrap him in it. However, when she touched his bare skin, she thought better of it. Frowning, she abandoned the blanket, and rested the back of her hand on his forehead for a moment. 
“You’re burning…” She said quietly, turning her hand to check his temperature once more.
He looked up at her in confusion. 
“But… it’s so cold...” For the first time in their long lives, she saw fear in his eyes and she hated it. 
“We need to get you somewhere safe, we can’t stay out here. If we do not return by sunrise, they will send for help.” Tauriel mused as she hastily busied herself, collecting up their things. She was grateful for the distraction of something to do, and also for the way her red hair hung like a curtain over her face as she felt a solitary tear rolled down her cheek. 
She was trying to reassure both of them, but he looked so awful that she was worried he didn’t have until morning. 
Unbeknownst to Silvan elf, Legolas’ eyes followed Tauriel as she fumbled with her pack, trying to distract himself from how bad he was feeling inside. She had almost pointedly turned her back on him, but he could guess why. She looked so sad that Legolas’ heart hurt. He had caused all of this. He’d been so stupid to have allowed himself to be injured and put all of this worry and responsibility on her. He should’ve taken out that orc before it even had a chance to shoot at her. He should’ve noticed it sooner, intercepted it with his own arrow, he should have…
She was alive. That was all that mattered. As long as she was alive, it would have been worth it. 
His vision blurred and he blinked hard, shaking his head slightly trying to bring everything back into focus. His brow furrowed in frustration and discomfort as he massaged his temples. It was making his head ache.  
He closed his eyes as everything started swimming in the most disorientating way- his head was pounding horribly now and every part of him ached dreadfully.
“Ready?” He heard Tauriel ask him, but couldn’t bring himself to open his eyes. He took several deep, shaky breaths and tried to muster what little strength he had left.
He’d been hit a few inches above his left hip, and due to the location of the arrow, the poison had affected his stomach the worst. The sickness was awful and it had hit him so intensely. He knew there would be more symptoms from the poison to come as it spread through his body, but right now the debilitating nausea was all he could focus on. It had come on so suddenly and severely that it had left him drained and weak and shaking all over, but the worst part was that he knew it was far, far from over. 
In truth, he really didn’t think standing would be a good idea. He knew he had to try, but as predicted, it was indeed not a good idea. Legolas shut his eyes as his hand darted to his mouth, praying to the Valar that he would not be sick again. 
“Ai Legolas…” Tauriel was immediately at his side, rubbing soothing circles on his back as he fought to keep his stomach down. 
“There’s a rangers hut… it’s not far.” His voice was tight and strained with nausea. He knew there was no way he’d be able to stand and walk feeling like this. His limbs felt like lead and the prickly lightheadedness was doing little to help how sick he felt. 
Tauriel slowly and carefully helped him struggle up until he was laying back against her, panting heavily. She saw the blood drain from his face as he lost what little colour he had left and went a worrying shade of white, his body fervently resisting being upright. 
“Easy…” she soothed, wrapping her arm around him more firmly in a bid to try and keep him upright. She held him tightly as he swayed dangerously to one side, stifling a moan behind clenched teeth. The ground beneath him was pitching and swaying, and Tauriel just about managed to catch him as he nearly slumped sideways again, clearly disorientated and extremely dizzy.
“‘Ri…” his voice was slurred and tinged with urgency. Feeling worse than he ever remembered, he was unable to hold back a deep groan, unsure whether he was about to throw up, pass out, or both. 
Legolas went limp in her arms and Tauriel yelped in shock, her heart lurching in her chest as she cradled him gently, a tear running down her cheek as she felt his frail body burning up under her touch. 
She knew the hut he spoke of. It was not too far from where they were now. 
She shifted carefully, keeping his unconscious and worryingly feverish form held close against her chest with one arm, and awkwardly slung both their packs and his bow onto her back with the other. 
She lifted him into her arms and ran. 
13 notes · View notes
whumpster-dumpster · 1 year
Note
My whump awakening was definitely in the Return of the King when Aragorn picks up the palantir and then slumps down unconscious into Legolas' arms. Legolas cradling him was such a minor detail in the background but boy oh boy did my little 10 year old brain obsess over it
YOU AND ME BOTH 100% Everybody else is freaking out over Pippin and I'm always watching those two in the bg, I love that
55 notes · View notes