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the-wandering-wonder · 2 months

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By The River

I was rewatching Lord of the Rings, and oof. I now remember why I swooned over Orlando Bloom so much as a teenager...

Pairing: Legolas x Reader

Word Count: 1,334

Rating: T (angst)

Chapter: 1/1

Summary: You've grown quite fond of Legolas, but when he disappears without so much as a word, your world is turned upside down.

You walk slowly towards the river Bruinen, occasionally glancing up at the clear night sky. A handful of trees litter the path of the river, marking where the beauty of Rivendell merges with the beauty of the forest. You take in a deep breath as you approach a particular beech tree, one that was slowly becoming your favourite.

You smile to yourself as you hear the feet landing behind you, slowing for just a moment as you see the familiar blond elf falling into step alongside you.

“It’s a beautiful night.” Legolas breaks the silence.

You merely hum in agreement, glancing at him with a soft smile, one that he returns.

You couldn’t quite remember how long you two had shared this routine, but he was always there, every night, ready to join you in your walks along the edge of the forest. Most nights you spoke, joking and laughing, but some nights, you enjoyed the simple silence, interrupted only by animals in the distance or the whistling of the wind. Truth be told (but never to Legolas himself) he was the reason you enjoyed your walk so much.

You eventually find yourself paused at the riverbank, looking down at the moonlight reflecting along the rippling waters. A breeze whips around you and you shiver, exhaling softly as you wrap your arms around yourself. You feel a warm presence behind you as Legolas moves to wrap his cloak around your shoulders, his hands resting on your upper arms. Without thought, you lean back into his touch, letting his warmth wash over you.

“Beautiful.” He murmurs.

You tilt your head to glance back at him, finding him gazing down at you, blue eyes sparkling in the moonlight. His hand comes up slowly, resting along the hollow of your throat, his thumb and forefinger pressing up against your jaw, lifting your face to meet his. He dips his head down, tentatively brushing his lips over yours before pulling back and letting his hand return to its place on your arm. Your lips part slightly, but no words come, so you give him a soft smile instead, letting your head fall back to rest against his shoulder as your gaze returns to the waters of the river Bruinen.

~~~~~~~~

The next day, you find yourself busy, running small errands for the council. But Legolas remains in the back of your mind, his soft kiss replaying over and over. Once night falls, you grab your cloak and slip out for your nightly walk. You quickly make your way to the beech tree, pausing for a moment. When all you hear is the rustling of the water and chirping of birds, you glance around.

“Legolas?” You call out, looking up at the branches.

Your heart begins to race as your elven senses pick up no sign of him.

“Legolas?” You call out again, silently hoping that he had somehow lost track of time.

No answer comes and you feel your breath run short, catching in your throat as your pulse pounds in your ears. You force down a deep breath before turning to run back into the walls of the city. You make your way to the council room, steadying yourself before approaching Elrond, who greets you with a nod of his head before returning to the map he was studying.

“Lord Elrond,” you begin, bowing your head slightly, “have you seen Legolas?”

“He is gone,” the elf responds, “A messenger came from Mirkwood this morning, and he left.”

You feel your heart sink to your stomach as tears prick the corners of your eyes. Your jaw drops slightly as you turn away from Elrond, clenching your fists by your sides.

“This troubles you?”

“I was just-” You pause, unsure of how to explain yourself to the high elf. “I did not know he was leaving.”

“Do not worry for him,” Elrond says, turning to look at you fully, “he will return in time.”

~~~~~~~~

You try to follow Elrond’s advice, busying yourself with whatever you can find and forcing yourself to focus on anything but the thoughts of Legolas. But days soon turn into weeks, then into months. And the Sindar elf does not return. You eat out of habit, on the days that you remember, and hardly ever venture out of the walls of Rivendell. Some days your heart aches as it did when Legolas first left, other days it feels cold and numb.

One day, Elrond, who had kept a distant eye on you as you grieved, approaches you.

“You should take a walk,” he says softly, “the air would do you good, as would the sun.”

“The river reminds me of him,” you admit.

“An unpleasant memory?”

“No, not at all. I just…I miss him.”

You stare at Elrond with glassy eyes, tears threatening to fall. He lets out a small sigh as he places his hand on your shoulder.

“Then go to the river, sit with the memories.”

Elrond gives your shoulder a soft squeeze before turning to walk away. You watch him disappear around the corner before turning your attention to the waterfalls scattered around the city, listening to the sounds of rushing water. You slowly walk through the city, heading towards the waters of the river.

You eventually approach your tree, reaching out to run a hand along the bark as you look down at the flowing water. In the light of the noonday sun, the colour almost matches Legolas’ eyes. A tear slides down your cheek as you turn to lean against the beech, sliding down to the ground and bringing your knees to your chest. Your eyes close as you lean your head back against the tree, losing yourself and letting time fly by.

You hear footsteps in the soft grass and you leap to your feet, turning to face the approaching figure. The sun glints off golden hair and your jaw drops momentarily before you close your eyes, deciding that your eyes are playing a cruel trick.

“No.” You say softly.

You slowly open your eyes, taking in the figure that now stands before you. Piercing eyes stare at you as golden locks flutter in the soft breeze. Legolas…

“I thought you’d left,” you murmur, “never to return.”

“You truly think I would do that?” Legolas tilts his head slightly, striding forward to stand in front of you.

“I didn’t know what to think,” you reply slowly, “you were just…gone. You never even said goodbye.”

“I tried to find you,” the blond elf murmurs, “but I couldn’t. And it was urgent that I return to Mirkwood.”

You take a step back and swallow as you stare at the river again, fingertips digging into the bark of the tree as it presses into your back. Finally bringing your gaze up to meet his, you see pale blue filled with concern and… was that hurt?

“I would never abandon you.”

Legolas’ voice comes out as little more than a whisper as he moves in closer, bringing up a hand to caress the line of your jaw, catching a fresh tear with his thumb. You lean into his touch, closing your eyes as you feel his free hand resting ever-so-lightly on your hip.

“ Melethril…”

Your eyes flutter open as you feel Legolas’ warm breath dancing across your lips, his own within inches. Your hands find purchase on his cloak as his body envelopes yours, your lips finally meeting in a soft kiss. You lean into him as his grip tightens on you, holding you close as your lips mold together. Your lungs begin to ache, but your desire for Legolas pushes all other thoughts back as you cling to him.

Legolas finally breaks the kiss, resting his forehead against yours as you both take in a breath. He tilts his head back to look into your eyes, the intensity of his gaze filling you with warmth. He speaks in a low tone, slowly and assuredly.

“I will always come back to you…”

#legolas #legolas greenleaf #reader insert #legolas x reader #orlando bloom #elrond peredhel #angst with a happy ending #fluff #grief #little bit of romance

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pix3lplays · 10 months

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Masterlist part 2

I can’t believe we reached 100 links on our first Masterlist!

-Honkai Star Rail-

With an idol!reader Pt 2

With an idol!reader Pt 3

Wedding proposals Pt 2

With a cat hybrid!reader

Leaving Luocha for Welt Pt 2

Reader has a serious face but loves pranking others

Babysitting night!

With a fem!general!reader

Luocha’s kid calls Welt ‘Dad’

(Platonic) teen!reader is a complete shut-in

Luocha: first fight

Luocha after telling his kid “your mother is dead because of you”

Luocha’s son snaps at him

Meeting their future child

With a short but stubborn reader

Physically ill reader

Reader loses memories of them

Reader can’t show lots of emotions due to an illness

Reader who can’t show lots of emotions due to an illness put in an emotional situation

(Platonic) with a teen!reader obsessed with plushies

Reader hides their pain

Reader feels sick and headache-y due to meds

Reader is a huge simp for them

Reader is like Harley Quinn

Jing Yuan and wife!reader

Reader has extreme reactions to things

When a child passes away

Comforting Anxious!reader

Nanook with a reader who’s friendly with other Aeons

Jing Yuan hears a soldier talking about his wife

When reader is in trouble

Jing Yuan with a reader suspected of being a spy

Reader is 9 months pregnant, Dan Heng version

Toxic relationship

Jing Yuan, wife!reader, and Yanqing family hcs

Reader can rip away memories

Reader is really shy

Reader leaves the path of Abundance for the path of Destruction, and Nanook notices

Reader is immune to poison and sells poison

Reader is an Emanator of Yaoshi and Nanook is jealous

Wife!reader and Jing Yuan argue about him being too harsh on Yanqing

Wife!reader and Jing Yuan argue about him being too harsh on Yanqing Pt 2

Wife!reader and Jing Yuan argue about him being too harsh on Yanqing Pt 3

Wife!reader and Jing Yuan argue in front of Yanqing

Nanook and reader that’s an Aeon of creation

Reader is from another dimension

Reader passes away protecting them

Reader is cold and distant but extremely lovey with them

Blade argues with wife!reader

Reader tells Dan Heng to shut up after he says not to worry about him

Gepard x florist!reader

Luocha watching his son

Reader is actually super smart

Introverted reader

Reader has orthostatic hypotension

Reader is super rich

Reader scolds Jing Yuan for pushing Yanqing too far

Blade x Herrscher of reason!reader

Jing Yuan x wife!reader that’s more powerful than him

Jing Yuan comforts Yanqing after a nightmare

Reader has chronic pain

(Platonic) reader has nature powers

Nanook x Herrscher reader

Pregnant reader gives birth to triplets

Taking care of triplets

reader who’s like Kaedehara Kazuha

Reader has a clingy cat

Jing Yuan has to kill mara-struck wife!reader

Blade x Vidyadhara!reader

Reader has social anxiety, Blade addition

Welt takes care of wounded reader

(Platonic) with a teen!reader who can’t sleep

They get injured in embarrassing ways

They propose, but reader says no

Earning your father’s blessing

With slightly insecure plus size!reader

Reader is jealous of Jing Yuan’s bird

(SPOILERS) Jing Yuan’s usually kind and patient wife!reader rips into Phantylia

Jing Yuan x amnesiac!reader

Jing Yuan jealousy

(Platonic) Jing Yuan adopting a teen!reader with anger issues

Reader has an eating disorder

(Platonic) Jing Yuan’s older sibling!reader scolds him for being reckless

Reader is serious in unserious moments, and unserious in serious moments

Yandere!Nanook hcs

Reader is like the Cheshire Cat

Reader is Yanqing’s mom

Reader makes paper rings and pretends their married

Reader worries about being late

Singer!reader

Nanook x lord Ravager!reader trying to escape

Blade x yandere!reader

Luocha raising your child on his own

Reader zones out a lot and kisses them

Sampo and Emanator of Aha!reader

Reader is a baker

Platonic!Yanqing tries to set you up with Jing Yuan

Reader has sensory issues

Calming one of Blade’s Mara flare ups with your singing

Reader proposes

-Spiderverse (Hobie Brown and Miguel O’Hara)-

Stay tuned, requests wanted!

#honkai star rail #honkai star rail x reader #Spiderverse #Hobie Brown #Miguel O’Hara

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gabessquishytum · 10 months

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Spent the weekend pouring over your galaxy-brained posts, thought I’d toss an idea I’ve been bouncing around for a bit into the ring; after their 1689 meeting, Dream increasingly indulges in thinking up the occasional fantasy of what-ifs, in which he swooped in to rescue Hob from any number of the awful things he went through during that century. To be fair to Dream, they start out and often continue to be about simply giving Hob the food and shelter and compassion he’d been deprived of, magnanimously giving his human friend acquaintance some much-needed comfort and perhaps receiving a bit of gratitude and awe in return.

But at some point the fantasies turn and grow, in which Hob decides to express his gratitude with his body, or Hob swoons into Dream’s arms after being rescued from the witch mob and all but throws himself at his knight in black armor, or Hob becomes so sweetly pliant from the food and baths he desperately needed that he allows Dream to use his body as he pleases; when you’re the Prince of Stories, the list of scenarios to play with is varied and endless ;P

But then when 1789 rolls around, and Lady Johanna and her thugs show up, presenting Dream with this wonderful opportunity to make one of his fantasies a reality (and if he’s lucky, it’ll be one of the sexy ones), before he can do anything swoon-worthy Hob throws himself into the fray and-

Oh. Hm. Now that’s something to consider. “You need not have come to my defense.” But that’s okay, this is a whole new avenue to explore, Dream’s not gonna abandon his old fantasies, but he does need to leave immediately so he can go examine the many new ‘Hob coming to my defense’ ideas coming into his head.

(And maybe this possibly turns into a fishbowl rescue au, as Jessamy has read Dream’s diary or smth and thus knows the best thing to do is go find Hob Gadling, she can get her lord rescued and laid, it’s a win-win. The sleepy sickness was a strange phenomenon that was never adequately explained, but didn’t last very long in the grand scheme of things so the world shrugged and moved on. Hob doesn’t quite follow how a talking bird telling him that His Stranger was in trouble lead to the best sex of his long life and a relationship with the King of Dreams involving quite a bit of roleplay, but you won’t catch him complaining)

I’m so fascinated by the idea of Dream having fantasies and daydreams of his own!! How does it play out in the dreaming, I wonder? Does he get to participate in live-action fantasies, or see it all play out like a film in front of him? I can totally see Dream getting intoxicated and wound up in these intricate scenarios.

Poor Jessamy has to spend a lot of time overhearing Dream’s horny daydreams about this random human, but GOD she’s glad that she was paying attention, when Dream gets captured! When Hob actually comes to rescue him it’s a whole lot less sexy than Dream was imagining. Hob gets shot (twice), there’s blood all over the floor, Hob basically uses a crowbar to smash the glass and it goes everywhere - not a pretty sight.

So. Once Hob is sufficiently recovered and Dream has dealt with the circumstances of his capture, he basically scoops Hob up into the dreaming and announces that they’re going to roleplay the rescue all over again, but this time it’s going to be romantic and sexy and Dream is going to swoon in Hob’s arms without either of them being covered in blood and broken glass, thanks very much.

Hob (who is still very confused but very happy to participate in anything that Dream wants from him) gladly rescues his Stranger all over again, and this time he also gets lovingly pounded on the basement floor. He’s not totally convinced that he isn’t hallucinating the whole thing until Dream smiles at him, and then he somehow knows that it’s all real. Dream loves him, for some reason. All is right with the world.

#the sandman #dreamling #nsft

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moira-mains-go-to-hell · 1 year

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Overwatch Women Relationship/ General Headcannons:

These are very specific, but I find them cute.

This is super long, because it’s All. Of. Them. I was going to break them up, but then I forgot, and rolled with it.

No warnings, all sfw.

Ashe

Is very much allergic to pollen.

With that being said she has the loudest damn sneeze

Cannot cook to save her life but makes really good concoctions of stoner type food. That and she is a dip girl. Every woman from the south knows one good dip they can make and it’s been imbued in us since birth. No one else at the party has the same dip either, wonderful how it works really

Widow

Has vintage luggage she uses for long term missions

Sleeps on her back with her arms folded like she is dead just to freak you out.

Hates pressure cookers

D.va

Is really good at Pilates (she took it up instead of physical therapy after her injuries in the cinematic)

Can fold gum wrapper swans

Disassembles her blaster when she is bored just to put it back together again (she times it and keeps the times in a golf notepad)

Junker Queen

Really good at electrical engineering but has only seen YouTube lectures about it on a shitty rebuilt mac

Listens to nickelback unironically

Prefers fruity drinks, but that’s the closest you will get her to eating a god damn fruit

Kiriko

Can and will sit you down to explain the entire Lord of the Rings trilogy

Is a Jojo’s fan. Thinks it’s under appreciated.

Cannot tell you the difference between jams, jellies and preserves.

Moira

Hates chain steakhouses (outback, Texas Roadhouse, ect) Loathes the atmosphere.

Has favorite poisonous plants

Is better than you at Mario kart

Mercy

Is not good at social cues to the point she will put on the complete wrong music for a situation (think Disco Inferno while she is trying to Rez a burn victim levels of bad taste)

“Does not like coffee” but if you make it she will drink from yours

Spins her blaster when she puts it back in its holster

Pharah

Likes shows like “How I Met Your Mother” and “Rules of Engagement”

Wakes you up in the middle of the night to go with her to the dingiest convenience store to acquire the best sandwich of your life

Hates coleslaw

Brigitte

Doesn’t count her reps, only times them with specific tools (a song, a show, a podcast)

Has helped her father defy the Geneva Conventions

Thinks The Grand Canyon is made up (Torb told her as a joke when she was little and has believed it since)

Zarya

Has been to the secret Russian lab where they keep stem cells of every known disease to exist. (It’s a real thing, I think don’t quote me-)

Brings back small rocks from places she goes

Doesn’t like birds

Mei

Snow ball has a built in dance party mode specifically for when she is sad.

Doesn’t like using Amazon

Knows all of “Yakko’s World” and sings it to herself

Tracer

Tries to tip well but doesn’t know the math so she leaves way more than is needed

Has tried to convince Winston to give her a laser beam inside of the accelerator

Wears Velcro for convenience

Ana

When she is able to settle down and stop being on the move, she catches up with reality shows and calls you to tell you about them

Puts little stickers on her little healing vials to make them look friendlier… not that anyone is gonna notice

Doesn’t like to eat breakfast. Just has tea in the morning.

Symettra

Has special pads on her visor because she doesn’t like the way it sits on her face

There is a disco mode in her turrets that she will never tell a soul about

She commits to bits to get you out of trouble without even knowing the full scope of the situation.

Sombra

Sweater thief, but in the worst possible times. If she forgets hers on a mission, she takes yours and dips

Likes those little strawberry grandma candies

As good of a hacker she is, she is absolutely terrible at 1v1 combat games. Mortal Kombat, Smash, Jump Force, you name it. She isn’t winning.

Sojourn

Phone is set to military hours. You never ask her for the time

Does not nap

Makes jokes about her legs. When you compliment her she knocks on the metal and goes “Quads of steel”. She thinks it’s the funniest bit in the world

*bonus* she may be rough around the edges but she is the loudest laugher at a comedy show

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giordirossi · 2 days

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BEHIND THE MASK

A question never asked, yet answered all the same. Date: Between April 10th-20th, 2024. Warnings: None.

Phone calls shouldn't drag out for longer than fifteen minutes tops, at least in Giordana's opinion.

Unless, of course, she happened to be caught in the endless conversational circle that was ringing her folks back in Launceston. Those always devolved after a quarter of an hour, playing catch up with mild news and constantly skirting around the massive elephant on the line surrounding her work. Inevitably they ran out of topics to hash out and resorted to rundowns of local obituaries, what birds her father saw in the yard that week, and when, for the love of the baby Lord Jesus himself, would she settle down with a nice Italian Catholic boy?

Which admittedly elicited more silent smirks than quick goodbyes these days. The kind only viewed by her reflection in the floor length mirror as she sat engulfed in the fabric of a shirt her very non-Italian, non-Catholic boyfriend left behind.

Tonight there were no private, mischievous smiles. No gossip about people from the old neighborhood. No jovial atmosphere behind this chat whatsoever. It felt rushed, almost frantic in a way that she seldom allowed her parents to hear. Or anyone else for that matter.

“I need you and Dad to go stay with Aunt Bea in Philly for a while.” Already she could hear her mother scoff, imagining the sight of long dark hair folding on itself as she undoubtedly gave Giordana's father an incredulous look. As if their daughter was begging for leniency on her adolescent curfew. “Not forever, just... until things cool down.”

"What things?”

“Ma—“

“Well, we can’t move our entire lives. D'you know how much it costs to relocate that fast?" A thick Launceston accent practically barreled down the phone at her. "We have important events coming up, what are we supposed to tell our friends and neighbors?"

As if on instinct, two fingers pinched the bridge of her nose.

"Dad playing cards at Vespucci's and you going to the salon with Trina do not count as important events, Ma." How to make them understand the gravity and the danger if they stayed? How she couldn't protect them across the pond if everything exploded? “You know Frankie and I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t serious.”

After the grandiose disaster that was the awards and how tepid the Sovrani alliance with the French appeared in its aftermath, she wouldn't take chances here. With no threat of croissant retribution as a barrier back in Launceston, the Russian hyenas waiting in the shadows would turn her hometown into a bloodbath again. Anyone with ties to the organization, especially to leadership and those in their circle, were fair game.

Under no circumstance was Giordana losing the only true parents she'd ever known.

Right when she anticipated a stern remark about tone, or lack of respect for her elders, her rebuttal was only met with heavy silence on the other end of the line.

And then, "I want you to answer me honestly." Shit. "Are you and your brother in some kind of trouble over there?"

"Not yet... Maybe soon.” Which equated to all the information she could provide, despite how ominous and unclear.

“Please, can you go stay with Beatrice? We need you both out of Launceston." A sigh through the speaker. "And we’ll need you to send over anything you have in the house connected to us. Pictures, documents, third grade macaroni art, whatever's left.”

“What! Why?!”

From somewhere in the background, her father chimed in, “I thought you said this wasn’t permanent, Giordana.”

“It’s a safety precaution. I’ll text you my address in London, don’t write it down anywhere.”

Nobody would rat them out as her parents— as the Rossi’s. There were too many Sovrani sympathizers or adjacent families in the old neighborhood who all looked after each other, but not every Russian traded competency for violence. The risk of somebody snooping where they shouldn’t remained a possibility.

Maybe paranoia gripped her because it’s what she would do to find a mark, rifle through family homes looking for connections. They needed to cut ties with Launceston and their children for awhile, only then could they be safe.

***

Barely one week later and a myriad of deliveries line the hallway of Giordana's home.

Boxes full of memories from hers and Frankie’s youth, all meticulously labeled because her mother never half-assed anything in this life. From high school yearbooks to little league sports trophies. Beneath a cardboard flap, some Polaroid photo sticks out partially obscured, though she recognizes it immediately as the outside of a local ice cream parlor back home.

A man stumbled up to the counter only minutes after the photo was taken. Unsteady on his feet with a blue shirt stained purple, his hands coated in a substance she couldn't see before her father rushed them into the car.

Good ole childhood memories, right?

Documents

The large black lettering catches her eye and Giordana scoops the package up from the floor, carrying it beneath one arm to the kitchen table. Unsure what compulsion makes her curious to rifle through it, she cuts open the clear tape and lifts a few papers into the light. Perhaps in search of an embarrassing disciplinary file from Frankie's school days that she could frame on the mantle. Wouldn't that be a sight.

Most of the sheets are expected and benign, so much so that she nearly misses the one labeled Birth Certificate. To her knowledge, Frankie was in possession of his after getting married to Aria and she keeps her own in a small personal safe in the bedroom down the hall.

Correction, she owns the amended version. The one reissued after a legal adoption has taken place. Her eyes hesitate at the top of the page, not venturing any further than the title.

She'd never seen the original before.

Never wanted to, quite frankly. Any early memories before her adoption were strategically buried once the Rossi's welcomed her into their family. What good was it to learn about the mother who abandoned her? Who sang a little girl to sleep until one morning she decided to just... give her away. Forever.

Had she known what that little girl would become? Did she sense the strangeness of her own child? The birth mother was still alive somewhere, or so Giordana heard, but hardly cared enough to find out.

Yet standing in the middle of her kitchen with the evidence of a long forgotten past sitting between slender fingers, she feels the oddest pang of–– not regret exactly. More of an incompleteness, a sudden deficiency that might be cured with a single glance.

Who was she before becoming Giordana Rossi?

Her gaze lowers, skimming over the birth details she already knows. Hospital, weight, height, nothing would be altered there. The birth name is different though.

Simone Martinez.

A breathy laugh escapes suddenly, relieved and amused all at once because she can't fathom answering to the name Simone. It isn't terrible, but neither does it match her current personality. She'll be sure to inform her parents of the wise change.

Mother: Monica Martinez.

No bells ring and while she hardly expected them to, somehow that leaves her a smidge disappointed. For all the faint memories she holds of the woman who gave her life, none of this feels familiar. She can only vaguely picture the face, blurry and distorted by the passage of time.

At least the father column is guaranteed to be empty. All her parents ever told her, and all she requested to hear, was that the woman had been a single mother and the birth father was unknown. Even to this Monica person.

Giordana peers down for confirmation and her stomach instantly drops. A barely audible, "What the fuck?" passes between painted lips as she crinkles the page in her grasp while holding it closer to the light.

The second parental designation isn't a blank space at all.

Father: Artur Petrov.

No.

No, that–– it must be a typo. Or a forgery.

Maybe her father planted it as a belated April Fools prank. Gotcha, that's what you get for worrying us! Ha ha!

Eyes widening with every passing second, she stares in horror at the name for what seems like an hour. As if scrutinizing it long enough might change the shape of the letters or erase them entirely.

Artur Petrov.

Petrov. It glares back at her from the document right above the official hospital seal and doctor's signature; a mocking condemnation.

The roar in her ears is loud enough to disorient and she drops the paper, discarding it with the rest of the box's contents before turning to stand over the sink. She hasn't vomited in years, yet bile rises in her throat all the same as realization upon realization crash over her head.

A desperate gasp staves the mess off just long enough for a softly anguished groan to replace it.

She's fucking Russian.

#( x. self para )#( x. character development )#apologies for how lengthy this is #it's been a long time coming :)

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askthemysterkids · 10 months

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What would they name their Palismen? (If you can think of any)

Sorry for taking a bit to answer these, been busy with my trip and VBS. Referencing this ask: https://www.tumblr.com/askthemysterkids/718296353979121664/if-they-had-palismen-what-would-they-be?source=share Dipper: For a cat palisman, I would say it's name is Sherly for Sherlock Holmes. (Someone who used to rp as Dipper named the cat that and I just love it.) Mabel: Waddles obviously for her pig palisman. Coraline: Her dragonfly could be named Zinger? Wybie: Despite all of his attempts to name his cat palisman, it will not accept any names. It just wants to be called "Cat" or "The Cat." Norman: His blobby little ghost is named Specter. It still enjoys his hoodie hood. Neil: Neil's dog is named Bub. Raz: If it is a monkey it's name is Bananas, if it's a squirrel it's name is Nutty, if it's a fish it's name is Linda. The ideas for "Bananas" and "Nutty" comes from the family circus's pony, Sugarcube. Lili: Lili's rat palisman is named Harold. Harold is looking fine in his little jacket today. Wirt: His bluebird is named Sylvia for Sylvia Plath. Greg: Spin the wheel! (His frog will probably be named Jason Funderburker.) Anne: Her cat palisman is named Domino 3. Marcy: Her butterfly might be named Meneldor? It's one of the names of the Great Eagles in Lord of the Rings. I am having trouble with this one. Sasha: Her bird could be named Commander.

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saintsenara · 1 month

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for the "very normal fic writer ask game": 3, 20 and 25!!

thank you very much for these questions from the very normal fic writer ask game, pal!

3. which fic are you using to introduce yourself to your new therapist?

if i'm discussing anything with a therapist, it'll probably be the hangover of growing up during an active sectarian conflict. lots of bombings and their aftermaths rattling around in my bonce!

which means i am - of course - showing some poor psychiatrist scylla and charybdis, in which i insist on making the case for the troubles - rather than the rise of the nazis - being the intended historical analogy we are supposed to read the first wizarding war in the 1970s as.

i suppose my shrink might also bring up what it says about me that so much of it features lord voldemort running an organ harvesting ring...

and the hot snapemort action.

but i can't really see what's abnormal about that...

20. uh oh! all the kids are hooked on your fics—what behaviour(s) are their parents now concerned about?

roman catholicism and recreational marzipan use.

25. all of your fics are featured in a nature documentary. which one goes viral for its absurd behaviour?

i think we're all agreed that the greatest thing in the animal kingdom is when ostentatiously-plumed male birds have to do cunty little dances to attract the attention of small, plain females.

incidentally, this is the plot of bookbinding...

[other answers from this ask game]

#asks answered #very normal fic writer asks

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knightofchariot · 8 months

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Lenormand meanings

German Traditional – Lenormand Meanings

01 The Rider: a message, news, something or someone incoming.

02 The Clover: good luck, small luck. An opportunity. Can indicate happiness.

03 The Ship: travel, distance, trade or commerce. Can show leaving something behind.

04 The House: home, family, property.

05 The Tree: health, deep rooted, long-standing (can be intertia or boredom), karmic (but positive).

06 The Clouds: confusion, anxiety, lack of clarity.

07 The Snake: a woman; intelligence, detour, backstabbing. Context is important.

08 The Coffin: illness or ending. (First in pair, I tend to see illness; second in pair, end).

09 The Flowers (Bouquet): gift, surprise, invitation. A very positive card.

10 The Scythe: danger, pain, sudden, severing or cutting. Can be a tool.

11 The Rod (Whip): discussion, arguments, strife. Can be a writing tool, or related to verbal communication.

12 The Birds (Owls): Meetings, a phone call, gossip, a couple. Anxiety like a flitting bird.

13 The Child: child, new beginning.

14 The Fox: wrong, deception, deceit. Crafty person. Sometimes work, where cunning is needed. Context matters, and I tend to read it depending on surrounding negative or positive cards.

15 The Bear: Man, person in authority; courage, strength, fortitude. Could represent a large income.

16 The Stars: hopes, dreams, spirituality or esotericism; positive, maybe successful; beware head in the clouds.

17 The Stork: Change, movement, birth. Usually a change for the better.

18 The Dog: A man. Friend, partner, companion. Loyalty, trustworthy.

19 The Tower: A large building. Government, authorities, school. Isolation, being alone.

20 The Park: public places, the public, meeting, party, social gatherings.

21 The Mountain: obstacles and delays; blockage. Can be a “shield” between two cards. Standing alone; remote.

22 The Crossroads (Roads, Ways): decision is needed; at a point of indecision. Multiple (usually two).

23 The Rat: loss, theft, illness. An “eating away at” someone or something.

24 The Heart: love, emotions, feelings.

25 The Ring: marriage, commitment, contract and partnership.

26 The Book: secrets, the unknown; books and written documents; education, training.

27 The Letter: written communication (letter, email, text message), newspaper, paper-like documents (such as a diploma or will). Could be news.

28 The Lord (Man): The male consultant; male significant other for a woman; important male in the querent’s life.

29 The Lady (Woman): The female consultant; female significant other for a man; important female in the querent’s life.

30 The Lily: sexuality, family, maturity, the “zen factor”; a catch-all card in German tradition.

31 The Sun: Victory, success, masculinity, energy, warmth, day time

32 The Moon: Emotion, intuition, femininity, dreams, imagination, night time, artistic talent, fame and recognition.

33 The Key: the “yes card” of the deck. Destiny, solution, success. Meant to be.

34 The Fish: money, cash flow, the financial or economic significator. Water. Drinking.

35 The Anchor: work, one’s job. Stability and security.

36 The Cross: Pain, grief, a burden. One’s “cross to bear.” The sense of destined or karmic; suffering that is inevitable or must be. Not a happy card.

French Modern – Lenormand Meanings

01 The Rider: a message, news, something incoming.

02 The Clover: good luck, an opportunity. Second chance.

03 The Ship: travel, distance, trade or commerce.

04 The House: home, family, property.

05 The Tree: health, deep rooted, karmic (but positive), spiritual.

06 The Clouds: confusion, lack of clarity.

07 The Snake: Big problems (as opposed to the Mice). Trouble that is seen, obvious or out in the open.

08 The Coffin: Ending, transformation.

09 The Flowers (Bouquet): A very positive card. Happiness, beauty.

10 The Scythe: Decisive, decisions, sudden, cutting. Can be a tool.

11 The Rod (Whip): sexuality, arguments, passion, recurring, physical activity.

12 The Birds (Owls): Verbal communication, a couple.

13 The Child: child, something small. Childlike or naive.

14 The Fox: Job, work, sneakiness.

15 The Bear: Money, food, nutrition, person in authority, strength.

16 The Stars: hopes, dreams, directions, possible success. Being “a star” in a field of expertise.

17 The Stork: Change, movement, birth. Usually a change for the better.

18 The Dog: Friend, partner, companion. Someone known. Loyalty, trustworthy.

19 The Tower: A large building. Government, authorities, school. Isolation, being alone. Arrogance.

20 The Park: public places, the public, meeting, party, social gatherings.

21 The Mountain: Delays of a lengthy nature. Standing alone; remote.

22 The Crossroads (Roads): decision is needed; at a point of indecision or a crossroad in life. Multiples. Two or maybe more.

23 The Rat: Small problems, stress, anxiety, excitement. Industriousness. An “eating away at” someone or something.

24 The Heart: love, emotions, feelings.

25 The Ring: marriage, commitment, contract and partnership. Payments, solutions.

26 The Book: secrets, the unknown; books and written documents; education, training.

27 The Letter: written communication (letter, email, text message), newspaper, paper-like documents (such as a diploma or will).

28 The Man: The male consultant; male significant other; a male figure.

29 The Lady (Woman): The female consultant; female significant other; a female figure.

30 The Lily: The “zen factor”. Peacefulness, age, longevity.

31 The Sun: Victory, success, masculinity, energy, warmth, day time, electricity. Ego (think Leo).

32 The Moon: Emotion, intuition, femininity, dreams, imagination, night time, artistic talent, fame and recognition. The arts. Psychism.

33 The Key: the “yes card” of the deck. Meant to be. Karmic inevitability. Positive solution.

34 The Fish: Business. Independence.

35 The Anchor: Stability and security. Something anchored, old. Suggests a solution, one that can be arrived at with perseverance.

36 The Cross: Pain, grief, a burden. Sadness and depression. One’s “cross to bear.” Often not a happy card. Religous; religion.

#lenormand meanings #lenormand #lenormand deck #divination

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safely-in-vhagars-belly · 8 months

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Pillars of salt and sand (Aegon x oc, Aemond x oc) Chapter 7 (Two Princesses, one dreamer)

CONCEPT: You were once a princess, now you are Aemond's prisoner. You are taken to King's Landing to bend the knee to Aegon.

WARNINGS FOR READING: This fanfiction is dark. It will contain themes as: Non-con, dub-con, dom/sub themes, murder, torture, blood, graphic descriptions of sex, graphic descriptions of murder and graphic description of torture. As well as animal abuse, war crimes, genocide, massmurder, sadism, power-abuse and incestious relationships. Warnings will be updated as the fic goes on

They placed you on a stone bench. You are crying openly as your aunt Helaena tries her best to comfort you. But she has difficulties doing so. It is her words after all that keep ringing in your head. ‘’It isn't so bad. Most times, he just ignores you. Except sometimes when he's drunk.’’ You would prefer a life of solitude and ignoring over the few drunk times that he will notice you and climb on top of you and do unspeakable things with you.

Your friend betrayed you for Aemond. Your best friend, Floris. Aemond killed your brother in front of you, feeding him to his dragon. You had locked up your dragon, Justyce. Your only other friend in this world, and handed the key of her pen to Aemond. Of course this was before he killed your brother. The only reason you complied, obeyed and played the part of being his prisoner was because of Luc's safety.

You should have seen it from the start. The very first agreement you made with that one-eyed monster. He never planned on letting Luc live. He never forgave him.

You feel stupid for trusting him. If you had not, you would have both died. A fate you prefer over being Aegon Targaryen's wife. You heard rumors of his reputation and you will hate being his wife. You know so. You hated being a princess, you always did. You doubt you will love becoming a queen. Or so, a Queen-figure. You won’t be granted any real power. The Greens believe a woman is unfit to rule, after all.

Somewhere near yet you feel it as incredibly far, your mother is having her baby, and instead of being by her side, you are captured by enemies because you were stupid enough to wander into Aemond's trap. Your aunt keeps rubbing your back as if you are a little girl, but you don't mind her gentle and sincere approach. ‘’Hush, my sweet niece. Hush.’’ She tells you with comforting little pats on your back. It's a little awkward, but she tries at least. No one else will risk even glancing at you. You are an enemy. Even glancing in your direction, nevermind comforting you over the death of your brother, a traitor would get any servant in deep trouble.

The birds in the garden sing a mocking happy melody as if the gods are taunting you. You glare at a mockingbird that sits on a branch. Helaena continues to comfort you in her own special way. ‘’I found a ladybug. They say she is a messenger of the Mother. Make a wish.’’ She offers you the bug by pushing it in your face with a smile.

You do not feel like making wishes. Daemon once told you a story about a man. He had a child and a wife and lived as a farmer. One day, he found an ancient bottle. He opened it and a genie came out. He had three wishes.

The first wish was to spend on riches. He became rich beyond compare, outriching Kings and Lords across the entire world. But his child died.

The second wish he spent wishing for an eternal life. But his wife died.

Daemon would ask you, always would ask you, what would the last wish of the man be?

At first you became upset by his tales and Rhaenyra scolded him for upsetting you. Daemon shrugged. ‘’She won't be a child forever. If I don't make her strong; her enemies will crush her.’’ He was right. Damn him. He always is right.

You think now, that you finally solved Daemon's riddle. What is eternal life compared to losing your true love? And what is riches if it takes away your child? The man from the story has one wish left and he should wish to undo his other two wishes. There is no other way.

You look at the Ladybug that Helaena places on your hand. You sigh. ‘’Helaena, I don't believe In wishes or magic. I barely believe in myself.’’ You admit your voice is teary and fragile of all the crying. She glares at you, annoyed you won’t play her game with her.

The Queen forces you to play her games. ‘’Just wish. What is the worst that may happen?’’ A ladybug is the messenger of the Mother. You look at the tiny bug and close your eyes praying for the first time in weeks.

You wish for your mother's baby to be healthy. For her to deliver her child safely into the comfort of her bed, with Daemon by her side. You wish she could forgive you. You wish you could forgive yourself for your future.

The ladybug takes off the moment you have made your wish. You and Helaena watch it take wing and leave the gardens. ‘’I love bugs. No one notices them. No one stops them from going where they want to be.’’ Helaena's descriptions are almost dreamlike. She makes a pretty picture. You never knew your aunt to have dreams that big. You wonder where she would go, if she had wings herself.

You try to get yourself together. You have to be strong. They cannot see you cry. Not as much as you like to cry. You like to throw yourself on the bench and just sob until your throat hurts. The Queen's chest rises with a soft sigh and you understand she made a wish herself.

Neither of you are eager to share what you wished for. You both know by now: The Gods are merciless to those who dare to dream out loud. She grabs your long dark locks and starts braiding it. ‘’I am so sorry, you are to become his as well.’’ His. Aegon's.

Your walls build quickly to defend yourself. What is she after? You knew they were married but you never considered how uncomfortable it would be to share a husband. You never were jealous of any of your betrothed siblings or your aunt and uncle. It was something that stood so far away from you.

It was miles away, marriage that is. A ‘’someday’’ a ‘’maybe’’ a ‘’if’’. So how come it has snuck up on you, poking you on the shoulder and grabbing you by the throat?

Helaena ties your braid into a side bride. You must look like a fool. One other member of your ancestors wore her hair almost always this way. She was as comfortable in ringmail as in silk. She was one of Aegon I’s wives. And she was the lesser one. The ugly unhappy greedy woman. She was Visenya. Braiding your hair, dressing in certain colors, it sends a message to the outside world when you are royalty. Helaena knows what she is doing with this braid. So you rip your braid lose instantly. ‘’Is this a cruel joke? Braiding my hair as Visenya had hers?’’ You bark at the Queen.

Helaena's eyes fill with tears as she watches you undo her hard work. ‘’I...I never had any friends...I thought...You look so pretty with your hair when it is braided. You look as true princess.’’ She speaks softly, nearly muttering when tears fall. ‘’I never meant to insult you.’’ You can't have a friend here. Especially not one like her.

She is the Queen. She is in open rebellion to your mother, sitting on her throne and you are worried that after Floris anyone would betray you to become better themselves. Yet you must play along…for now.

‘’It has been a long day, your grace. Please forgive me.’’ You manage to blurt out an apology, to hide your displeasure from Helaena as best as possible.

Yet she reads you so well. ‘'D-don't your grace me. Please I beg of you.’’ She whimpers as a lost little puppy that lost her mother.

You sigh. ‘’Very well.’’

An uncomfortable silence follows. You both feel terrible by your actions. You rejected the only kind person in this city and made her cry as well. Helaena claims she wants to be friends, perhaps and thought she did you a favor by making you pretty. You look into the reflection of a polished vase. There is dried blood on your face, and your hair is a mess from flying your dragon. Helaena mutters. ‘’ābrar botagon kesrio syt vali find zirȳ gevie.’’ She speaks. Women survive, because men find them beautiful. You touch the dried blood on your face.

You need to win information about Aegon. That is the important thing now. For your own sanity. You need to know who you are about to marry. For you, he has always been a stupid boy you once had a crush on. A silent and absent soul that haunted you by family meetings. Never spoke to you, never bothered you. ‘’Is...Is he kind?’’ You need to know. Does he abuse her? ‘’Is he a good father to his children?’’ You have to know what kind of future you are facing. ‘’I heard rumors but...Rumors can lie.’’ You say.

Your aunt is silent, her face a mask. ‘’The way your grandsire was a father to his children.’’ Viserys was a good loving grandsire and father. He loved Rhaenyra and made her his heir. His love never weakened, not even when his sons were born. He would never replace her, this is what makes the usurping of the Greens so terribly sad.

You are relieved that Aegon won't neglect your children, at least. ‘’So he’s very good.’’ You mutter to settle your nerves. You may be forced to have his children, but he won’t be absent. He won’t be a stranger to any children you may have.

You laugh at your own thoughts. You woke up today, in your rooms at Dragonstone. And now you are thinking of your future as Aegon II’s miserable wife bearing his children and other miserable things that make you want to run into a sword.

The Queen of bugs smiles. ‘’No. He was terrible as is Aegon.’’ You feel your brows frown. Viserys, your grandsire, terrible? A terrible father? You laugh thinking she is joking.

Your laugh dies the moment you see her eyes and they for the first time since you've met her, filled with rage. ‘’What?’’ You stutter a little helpless.

Helaena sighs wistfully and laughs. ‘’He never recalled my name day. I never spent a moment in his company. It never mattered how many bugs I caught, how many hours I waited. How late I stayed up until I passed out in his rooms, waiting by the door...My father was never there for me.’’

You have trouble understanding how good a father he was to Rhaenyra and so badly to his other children. Perhaps he neglected Helaena a tiny bit but surely his other children have fond memories of your late grandsire. Your brothers always loved it when Viserys came over.

You had a lovely childhood growing up with Laenor. He may not have fathered you but he would always be your father. Harwin Strong is your real father and your memories were short and brief but they were true and no insult will take it away from you.

Grandsire...was not feeling well his final years. Perhaps the bug queen is a little upset about him forgetting a few things and attending his duties more than his children. ‘’He was sick.’’ You defend him.

Helaena muses, amused by your words as she defends herself sharp as if stabbing you with a needle. ‘’Yet healthy enough to visit Rhaenyra. Illness does not cages us. It sets us free. We see who we want to spend our last moments with...and with who we do not.’’ It does raise an important question. A question that might explain why Aegon and his siblings hate you and your brother so deeply.

Was this all avoidable, was this all for jealousy and neglect? You doubt it has an answer so simple. The war has been a poisonous mix of multiple factors. It is not as easy to blame Aemond for killing Luc. It not as easy to blame Viserys for neglecting his children. It is a combination of factors, a deadly dance where everyone did their best...and had a part. Yourself included.

Helaena speaks, breaking the silence as she lovingly gazes at the flowers in a pot. ‘’You know, I never wanted to become a princess.’’ Helaena confesses softly. ‘’I always wanted to be...a gardener.’’

Your eyes go wide in surprise as you become intrigued by this. A gardener? What is exciting about that? ‘’A gardener?’’ You repeat carefully to not let her know you think it boring. If you were not a princess, you’d start a bookshop. Not very exciting either, but that is fine. Your books can give you excitement. Or perhaps you would sail to old Valyria, uncover it’s secrets. If you ever would make it, that is. You could also become a knight. A fearless soldier. If only.

Helaena’s eyes shimmer with wishfulness and dreams. ‘’Yes. Surrounded by trees in the open fields, the wind blowing through my hair, a good boring husband who is not a usurper and endless fields of leaves for me to lift and see if there are bugs hidden beneath it.’’ Her eyes sparkle and her voice lights in ways that you never heard her speak before.

You wonder if her bug obsession has anything to do with her desire for freedom. In a way, she and you are alike in ways you did not think possible. You both are princesses, and both desire freedom. And you both live in a world where even your titles won’t ever grant you true freedom. The only true freedom…is the freedom of death. ‘’It has never been easy. Being myself. They all say we are insane. Yet no one is as ill as I am. My illness cannot be helped.’’ She speaks, rattling nervously as she pulls her nails.

You feel sympathy for her. You scooch closer. ‘’Your brother is not healthy either. He killed my brother, fed him to his dragon. You have done nothing to harm or shame me or my family.’’ Unlike Aemond, Aegon, Alicent, Otto….

She shakes her head at your words. Refusing to believe them. ‘’My brothers both have their reasons. We all do. You see us as the enemy but it is not as black and white as that. Life is more complicated than a one-sided story. Everyone has one. And who the villain is, that changes with every book.’’

For some reason that truth upsets you. It makes it seem as if all of this is reasonable and justified. ‘’My mother was going to grant you mercy.’’ You speak. ‘’She always wanted a little sister. She sees you as her own.’’ You know your mother does.

The birds sing in the distance as the clouds roll one by one. Helaena ignores your words with great effort. ‘’Ask my brothers. They have tales too. Only worse. I am the lucky one. You all think me insane and mad in the head-’’ You do remember thinking so when you were little. But not anymore.

‘’We don't think that-’’ You try to touch her back but she grabs your wrists nearly breaking them when glaring at you.

She hisses through her tears. ‘’Don't lie to me. Do not lie to me. You have taken enough from me.’’ You whimper in pain. ‘’You think I want to share my husband? You think I want any of this? No! But I do it regardless. Because it is expected of me. Because ….well. None of it matters.’’ She mutters the last word to herself, a devastating heartbreak written in her eyes. ‘’None of it will matter, in the end.’’

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kevin-sedai · 28 days

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"Before them went a great cavalry of horsemen moving like ordered shadows, and at their head was one greater than all the rest: a Rider, all black, save that on his hooded head he has a helm like a crown that flickered with a perilous light.

...

Even as these thoughts pierced him with dread and held him bound as with a spell, the Rider halted suddenly, right before the entrance of the bridge, and behind him all the host stood still. There was a pause, a dead silence. Maybe it was the Ring that called to the Wraith-lord, and for a moment he was troubled, sensing some other power within his valley. This way and that turned the dark head helmed head and crowned with fear, sweeping the shadows with its unseen eyes. Frodo waited, like a bird at the approach of a snake, unable to move."

-Lord of the Rings, JRR Tolkien

#lotr #witch king of angmar #frodo baggins #nazgûl

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all-the-things-2020 · 4 months

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A Grey Ship Sails

Summary: After the death of Aragorn, King of Gondor, Legolas and Gimli plan to sail away into the West. But someone tempts Legolas to stay behind in Middle-Earth.

Word count: 7000+

Notes: The Appendices to The Lord of the Rings give quite a bit of information about what happened to Aragorn, Sam, Merry and Pippin after Frodo and the others sailed into the West. However, there is very little mention of Legolas and Gimli, other than that after Aragorn’s death, Legolas built a grey ship and sailed down the Anduin and across the Sea, and that some say Gimli went with him. Here is my own idea of what might lay behind those brief words …

In the 120th year of the Fourth Age, the sun shone bright and fair over the wide Vale of Anduin. And yet, as he stood on a windblown hill amongst the springtime flowers and sweet herbs, Legolas Greenleaf, Lord of the Wood-elves of Ithilien, had sorrow in his heart. Sunlight glinted sharp and piercingly bright from the waters of the Great River, but it was not from longing for the sea that Legolas sighed. A great grief was coming upon him; he felt it growing like a cloud looming over the horizon.

He heard the rustle of a light foot stepping over the grass behind him. Although he was certain who it was, he did not turn, but kept his gaze on the west and the distant tower of Minas Tirith, shining like a white needle.

“A messenger has come, my lord,” spoke a low voice, beautiful and measured, like the cooing of a dove. Legolas turned to look at the Elf-maid, and his heart was troubled even more. She was tall and slender, as were all her race, fair of face and graceful as no mortal woman ever was. As always, his heart lifted at the sight of her, but it did not leap as it did when he caught the high, thin call of gulls flying past, or a breath of sea air on the breeze.

“I know,” he replied, walking toward her. “I have known for some time that the summons would come.” He sighed and shook his head. “It is always difficult to part from those we love; more difficult still when the one who departs is so great and wise, and those left behind must do the best they can without him.”

Galadhwen laid a hand on his arm, and he did not pull away. Even though he knew he should not encourage that which could not be, he was in sore need of comfort at the moment. “The King Elessar is the greatest Man to have walked the fields of Middle-earth for long years past,” she said. “Truly he was as the Kings of Men of old, the Lords of Numenor. But it is the Doom of Men that they should have only a short span of years allotted to them, and then must pass outside the circles of the world.”

“And it is our Doom to watch them go,” said Legolas. There was no bitterness in his words, only the deep sadness of the Elder Race.

Galadhwen bowed her head; she had no words to refute him. “He is dear to you,” she said gently, “and your grief at his parting will be deep. But there are others that you also care for ….”

Now Legolas did pull his arm away, and Galadhwen folded her hands together. It pained him that he must refuse her affection, and yet he knew that doing so would only spare her greater sorrow. For Galadhwen loved the fair woods of Ithilien above all else, and she was of the Wood-elves, not of the Grey-elves as he himself was. The Sea-longing would never awaken in her breast, and she would never wish to leave the shores of Middle-earth. Long ago, Legolas had heard the call of the Sea, and all these many years, it had quietly sung in his heart until now it threatened to drown out everything else, even the springtime songs of the birds and the music of the rippling waters that brought forth the sweet herbs and flowers in the garden that was Ithilien.

They walked in silence to the bottom of the hill, where Galadhwen bowed to him and left him to speak to the King’s messenger. Legolas found he listened with only half an ear to the man’s words. For he already knew the tidings which were brought to him, and instead he watched Galadhwen slip into the woods, slim and graceful as a deer, and just as at home amongst the wild trees.

The next day, Legolas crossed the Anduin, leaving quietly in the early morning so that none were aware of his going. He found a company of Dwarves awaiting him on the further bank. They were dressed not for war, but for such work as dwarves love above all else. Chisels and hammers and other implements of stone and metal work they bore with them, save their leader, who carried a mighty battle axe. His hair and beard were shot through with much silver, and he was more stout than in earlier days, but still Gimli Gloin’s son was an impressive Dwarf lord.

“Well, Master Elf,” said Gimli as Legolas drew near. “The day we have dreaded for so long draws near.”

“That is does, my friend,” said the Elf. “I walk in sorrow, for soon I must bid farewell to one who is dear to me, and to one who is fairest of all those of my kind who remain on these shores.”

Gimli bowed his head. “Let us go, then,” he said gruffly after a moment’s silence. “There is work in Minas Tirith for skilled craftsmen, and bitter work for you and me.” He hoisted his axe to his shoulder and set off at the head of the line of Dwarves. Legolas fell into step beside his old friend. The other Dwarves took up a marching song, singing softly so as not to offend their Lord, but with no need to be grim themselves. Legolas envied them their merry hearts. For he and Gimli walked toward a funeral.

They reached the gates of Minas Tirith late in the day. As they passed through the wall, Gimli grinned with pride at the magnificent mithril gates, crafted by his own people, a gift to the King of Gondor. “No Elven-smith could have wrought finer,” he declared, passing a hand over the edge of a gate as he passed.

The rest of the Dwarves left them in the first circle of the city, to go to the quarter kept ever ready for the workmen of the Lord of the Glittering Caves, who often came to the great city in service to the King. Legolas and Gimli continued on, rising steadily up the slope of the hill until they reached the highest level of the city, where only the noblest guests were received. There they rested in the forechamber of the great hall while word was brought to the King that they had arrived.

A door opened, but it was not the King who entered. It was instead his son, Eldarion, a tall man, full grown and wiser than any in the realm save his father. The blood of both the Numenoreans and the Eldar ran in his veins, and though he had seen scores of years, still his hair was dark and his face unlined. “My father the King will see you shortly,” he said. “May I offer you refreshment while you wait?” He was well mannered and gracious, yet still Legolas sensed his grief. For all that Eldarion was a mighty Prince, esteemed higher than any in the land, he had always deferred to his father’s companions, those who had ridden with him in the great War of the Ring and had been counted among the Ringbearer’s Fellowship.

“They will not have time to take wine and cakes, for I am here.” King Elessar’s voice rang clear and strong through the hall as he entered, but there was weariness in his face. Though his face bore few lines, his hair was all silver now, and for one brief moment, Legolas saw the likeness of Mithrandir, Gandalf the White, in his friend’s face.

“We have come at your summons, Aragorn,” Legolas said. As ever, when they were amongst themselves, the Companions used the King’s given name, for they remembered fondly the days when they journeyed together, before Aragorn son of Arathorn had taken the name Elessar Telcontar. But not even Legolas, who was the King’s elder by thousands of years, would presume to call him “Strider”, as the Hobbits were wont to do before they had passed away, either over the Sea or into death. Only the simple and merry Halflings would dare to call the High King of Arnor and Gondor by such a name, but it had pleased the King very much to be reminded of his humble past, and to remember as well that not all of his subjects were impressed by high white towers, fleets of ships, mighty swords and glittering gems.

“Mae govannon, Legolas,” said the King. “And welcome also to you, Gimli.” He led them through the hall to a smaller chamber, in which a fire was lit and comfortable couches and chairs were drawn up before it. Eldarion excused himself and the three companions took their seats, choosing those chairs that best suited them. Aragorn sank into a curiously carved chair of dark wood, marked with gilding and cushioned with deep blue velvet. Legolas took a finely carved chair of pale mallorn wood, a gift to the King from the artisans of Lothlorien. Gimli chose a low couch, covered with a thick tapestry but not well cushioned. A table near at hand held a pitcher of wine, and a plate of small cakes. Aragorn poured out three goblets, all made of purest silver and set with precious stones. Handing them round, and offering the cakes, he appraised his friends.

“It is good to see you both again,” he said, taking a sip of wine. He smiled suddenly. “Do you remember how we three hunted orcs across the breadth of Rohan? Those were hard days, and yet in memory, I find them sweet.”

“Many cares are laid on a lord of Men,” said Legolas. “Or of Elves – or Dwarves.” Gimli grunted in assent. “It is natural that we long for past days, when we had fewer cares.” And yet it was not the past that Legolas longed for now.

“You are wrong, Legolas,” Gimli said. “We did have cares then, grave ones. Brave men died, and the fate of Middle-earth stood on a razor’s edge. Our current cares are as nothing.”

“And yet I weary of them,” said Aragorn with a sigh. “You know why I have called you here, my friends, last of the Fellowship remaining in Middle-earth.” He rose to stand by the fire, leaning a hand against the mantelpiece. Though he still stood tall and unbowed, he showed his age. “As Isildur’s heir, with the blood of Numenor flowing in my veins, I have been granted longer life than other men. And yet I am not immortal, as are my Elven kin. Thus far have I remained strong and hale, though my hair has turned to silver. Soon, though, I will begin to falter. I feel it in my bones, Gimli.” He returned to his chair, and Legolas saw that he lowered himself carefully, as an old man will. “The grace by which I have been granted long life also grants me the right to give back the gift when I wish, not when time and chance will take it from me. My son is more than ready to take the throne, and he will rule well. I would not have my people watch me wither and lose my strength and wits.”

“Have you yet spoken of this to the Queen?” Legolas said quietly. Arwen Undomiel, daughter of Elrond Half-elven, had chosen the mortal life of her husband rather than sailing across the Sundering Sea with her father. When Aragorn gave up his life, so too would Queen Arwen. The Evenstar of her people would finally set.

“I have not,” Aragorn admitted, “though I feel she already knows.”

As if summoned by his words, the Queen entered the room. She moved quietly, yet their full attention was drawn to her immediately. Unlike her husband, she showed no sign of age, though indeed she was older even than Legolas. In the first centuries of the Third Age had she been born, and yet it was clear that Arwen had not yet wearied of her days.

She took a seat beside her lord, and the four of them spoke of old times, until the fire burned down and they were summoned to dine. As the company left the dining hall, Arwen laid her hand on Legolas’ arm and drew him a little aside.

“I know why the King has asked you here,” she said, her voice wavering just the least bit. “And I know what you plan to do once he is gone, Legolas, Lord of Ithilien.”

“Indeed,” said Legolas, “it would be well nigh impossible to keep anything of import from one as wise as you, my Queen.”

She smiled then, and shook her head. “Not so wise as some who have left us,” she said with a sigh. “Yet perhaps the wisest who still remains. Not for long, though.” She lowered her head and Legolas sensed the sorrow in her heart. “I am not ready to leave this world,” she said. “And yet it is my fate to depart soon.” She raised her head, her eyes shining not with the starlight that lingers in the eyes of the Firstborn, but with bright tears. “I ask of you a favor, Legolas, my friend.”

“You have but to ask, Arwen,” he replied. “Ever will I serve you, and your King.”

“You mean to leave these shores,” Arwen said, a far off look in her eyes. Legolas recognized it, for he often felt the same. It was the look of one who heard the call of the Sea, and could not answer it. “Do not deny it.”

“I will not,” said Legolas. “Many long years have I resisted the call, and when the King departs, I will no longer have the strength of will to deny it.”

“Then if you will, take a message for me, to my father and mother, and my grandmother Galadriel,” the Queen said.

“Gladly,” he agreed. Such sorrow filled her beautiful face, that he took her hand and pressed a gentle kiss to it. “To the ends of the earth would I go to run such an errand for you, Queen of Men and Elves.”

Arwen laid her hand against his face. “I thank you, Legolas, Thranduil’s son,” she said. “It may be that still I can persuade my lord to wait a little while, but when he has departed, I shall write my farewells to those that I love who no longer dwell within these shores, and these I will deliver to you with my own hand; and so you, who are in some way my kin, however distant, shall be the last of my people to see me walk the earth.”

“Then I will be fortunate indeed, Lady Evenstar, to see the last of the Eldar depart from Middle-earth,” he said.

The next day, King Elessar summoned his closest advisers and companions, and they gathered with great sorrow before the House of the Dead. When the King arrived, the great winged crown of the Numenoreans on his brow and the Queen Evenstar at his side, all there assembled bowed their heads, save for Legolas, who was of the Elder race and alone of all the King’s people could bear to look upon the light shining from the Elfstone’s face.

At the King’s signal, they followed him inside the House of the Dead, where a bier had been prepared, spread with cloth of gold and a silk cushion laid at the head. The King stood before this bier and called forward his son, who knelt before him. “This crown I give unto you, Eldarion Telcontar, my only son,” the King said. “For it is time for me to leave my people and go to the rest that all wise men seek.” He then took the crown from off his head and placed it on Eldarion’s brow, and it seemed to those in attendance that Eldarion grew in stature, even as he knelt before his father, and the light of kingship shone clear and steady in his eyes.

“With a heavy heart do I accept this gift from you, my father,” Eldarion said. “For no man can hope to live up to the legacy that you have wrought. Still, I am of your blood, and I will do my best to follow the path you have blazed.”

Then the King raised up his son and bowing to him, turned to lay himself upon the bier. He bade everyone leave, save only the Queen, and folded his arms upon his breast. As Legolas departed with the others, he looked back. Aragorn appeared as a man overcome with great weariness, and the Elf knew it was more than time for the King to go to his well earned rest.

They milled uncertainly outside the Houses of the Dead for a quarter of an hour, none sure what should be done. And then the Queen appeared at the door, her face pale but unstained with tears. She strode calmly to her son, and went to her knee before him. “The King is dead,” she said in a clear voice. “Long live the King.”

No one spoke for a long moment, and then Gimli, with a gruff cough cleared his throat and cried, “Long live the King Eldarion Telcontar!” Legolas took up the cry, as did many others. “Long live Eldarion Telcontar, High King of Arnor and Gondor!” Then the King raised up his mother, for he would not have her kneel before any man. With both great sorrow and great joy, the company left the House of the Dead to its solemn peace, and returned to that part of the city where dwelt the living, and word was spread that a new King sat upon the throne.

Before Legolas left the city, Arwen came to him. “I will depart soon,” she said. “Look for me in Ithilien before the Moon has reached his full.”

“Whither will you go?” he asked.

“To Cerin Amroth, where Aragorn and I plighted our troth so many years ago,” she replied. “Lothlorien fades now, but still it is the land of my mother’s people, and I was happy there. I will not lie in a cold tomb with the queens of Men, but amongst the trees and flowers beloved by our people.”

To this Legolas made no reply, and with a bow he left her.

On his way back to his realm in the woods of Ithilien, Legolas stopped in Osgiliath, where dwelt the Prince of Ithilien, grandson of Faramir and Eowyn. There he requested the use of the Prince’s men and their knowledge of shipbuilding, for now that Osgiliath was rebuilt, it had become a great inland port, with ships sailing upriver from the Sea, bearing all sorts of precious cargo and trade goods. The Prince was troubled by Legolas’ request, but as his father and grandfather before him, he held the Elf in esteem, and as an equal, for Legolas was also a prince, though he dwelt no longer in his father’s realm. And so the Prince assented, and Legolas returned to his people.

Galadhwen greeted him with concern, for word had come to the Elves of the passing of King Elessar, and all knew that their Lord would grieve for his friend. It pained Legolas to hear her words of sympathy, knowing that soon enough she would likely have words of anger for him.

The day after he returned, Legolas gathered the greater part of his people and said to them, “I have summoned you here to decide whom you will take as your Lord after me, for I will soon be leaving you.” There was great astonishment at these words, and Galadhwen fled in tears. Though he wished to follow her, Legolas continued. “Long have I heard the call of the Sea whispering in my heart,” he said. “And long have I resisted it, out of love and loyalty to the King Elessar, to help him restore the reunited kingdom. But now the King has gone, and given his realm into the hands of his son, who rules now in Minas Tirith, and it is time also that I should give these woods into the hands of another, and follow my doom. The Prince of Ithilien has granted me the use of his shipwrights, and I will build a ship as soon as may be, and sail down the Anduin and thence to the Sea.”

Then leaving them to choose as they would his successor, Legolas went in search of Galadhwen. He found her on the hill, gazing upon the Anduin, and her face was stern and cold. “I have looked on this river and its valley with joy,” she said, “but now I feel only hate, for it will bear you away from us.”

“I would stay if I could,” Legolas said, “but the Sea Longing is like an ache, that can be borne only so long before it must be relieved, or the sufferer go mad. I must follow my heart, and sail into the West.”

“Follow your heart, you say,” Galadhwen said bitterly. “I would that your heart led you somewhere closer than Elvenhome across the sea.”

“My heart is torn,” he confessed. “I would have wed you long ago, Galadhwen, if not for the knowledge that even love of you could not bind me to these shores. It is better to leave you thus, free to choose another if your heart so inclines, than to leave you alone but bound to one who has gone and will not return.”

“As bitter as it would be to know that you love me not at all, it is far worse to know that you do, and yet not enough to remain,” she said sadly.

Legolas took her hand and pressed it to his lips. “I would ask you to go with me,” he said, “if it were not that I know you would refuse. Your love for Middle-earth is as strong as my longing for the Sea. Even for love of me, you would not leave the woods and waters of Ithilien.”

Galadhwen was silent then, and pondered his words. With tears in her eyes, she nodded and said, “You speak truly. For I am afraid to take to ship and sail across the Sea, and if you will not stay with me, then I must lose you. I cannot leave this place, which is my home.”

“You are of the Silvan folk,” he said, “who have ever dwelt within Middle-earth, in heart as well as body. And I am of the Sindar, who heeded the call to join the Valar, but stopped along the way only for love of their king. Yet still, we were willing to go, and the call has only slept, not faded away.”

“I will never wed,” Galadhwen declared, “nor shall I bear any child, if you leave these shores, my lord. I swear this by Elbereth, most beloved of the Valar, for I will be faithful to you, though we shall be parted until the world ends.”

He kissed her then, tenderly, and both shed tears at the fate of their love. For though there was much love between them, neither was willing to make such sacrifice as Luthien made for Beren, or Arwen for Aragorn.

Before a fortnight had passed, Arwen Undomiel came to the woods of Ithilien, under the waxing moon. Legolas met her beside a laughing stream, but there was no joy in her heart. Quietly, she gave to him a packet of thick parchment, her written farewells to those of her family who had passed into the West.

“Give these unto my father and mother, and my grandmother, if you are still determined to sail,” she said.

“I am, and I will,” he replied. “I will guard your words as if they were precious jewels, for as such will they be regarded by those for whom they are intended.”

Then Arwen laid her hand upon his arm. “Will she sail with you, Legolas?” she said.

“No,” he replied, though he could not say how Arwen had known. “Her heart dwells here in Middle-earth, and she will not leave these shores.”

Arwen smiled sadly and dropped her hand. “So many partings,” she said. “Namarie, Legolas.”

“Namarie, Arwen Undomiel,” he replied as she turned and walked into the shadows, and was lost to his sight.

“Who was that?” said Galadhwen, appearing at his side.

“It was the Queen Evenstar, Arwen Undomiel,” said Legolas. “She is gone to her long rest, and none will ever see her again.”

“Where does she go?” asked Galadhwen. “Will she not lie beside her husband in the tombs of Men in Minas Tirith?”

“No,” said Legolas. “She goes to Cerin Amroth in Lothlorien, to fade and die with the wood wherein her grandmother Galadriel dwelt. For she is of the past, and must leave this world.” He turned then to Galadhwen and took her hand. “So too are we of the past, for this is now the Age of Men. We Elvenfolk must pass over the Sea or else dwindle and fade, until we are only a dim memory in the hearts of Men.”

“Still would I stay among the trees,” she said. “I cannot face the terrors of the Sea.” She took her hand from his, and walked away, her silver dress shining in the moonlight.

Legolas had several tall trees of Ithilien felled, with which to build his ship. Some among his people were grieved to see such noble trees brought to an untimely death, but Legolas chose wisely, and took only those trees that had reached their prime and had few years of life left before them. Their fine silver wood was hewn by the Elves and woodsmen of Ithilien, and sent to Osgiliath, where the shipwrights and carpenters wrought a small but well balanced ship, such as could be handled at need by a single sailor.

In due time, the ship was finished, and Legolas was pleased. He gifted the shipwrights with such gold as he had gathered in his time as Lord of Ithilien, and it was not without worth, for much had come to him from Gimli and the dwarves of the Glittering Caves. To the Prince of Ithilien, he gave a necklace of gold and mithril, set with a magnificent crystal that gathered and reflected even the smallest ray of light. Then returning to the woods, he made ready to depart.

On the morn of his leave-taking, Galadhwen came to him and once more asked if he would change his mind, and remain in Ithilien. And once again, Legolas asked if she would sail with him, though both knew the other’s heart was unchanged.

“Will you come to the river and see me off?” he asked, reluctant to be parted from her when there was so little time left to them.

“No,” she said, shaking her head. “I will say my farewell here, under the trees, where I belong.”

And so they were parted, and Legolas took up his pack and walked to Osgiliath, where the ship lay at anchor, straining against the ropes, so eager was she to follow the Anduin down to the Sea. On the docks were gathered the shipwrights and carpenters, and all who had a hand in the building of the ship, as well as the Prince of Ithilien and others of his household. And standing squarely in the middle of the dock, before the gangplank, was Gimli, son of Gloin, with his finest mithril mail blazing in the sun.

“I am glad you have come to see me off, Gimli,” Legolas said, taking the Dwarf’s hand.

“See you off?” replied Gimli. “No, Master Elf, I am coming with you.” He grinned at the astonishment on Legolas’ face. “You did not think I would let you go off on such a mighty adventure without someone to look after you, did you? Besides, I grow old, and even the Glittering Caves lose their charm, when I remember something of much higher beauty.” His hand went to the heavy gold necklace that he always wore, wherein was set a clear crystal, large as a hen’s egg, and within the crystal were three strands of golden hair.

“Only the Firstborn are allowed to follow the Straight Path,” said Legolas. “It may be that you will not be permitted to leave the Globed World, and must be left to drown in the wide Sea.”

Gimli dismissed such words with a wave of his hand. “I have no fear, Legolas,” he said. “I would hazard any risk for the chance to see the Lady Galadriel again. And I would rather end my days in peril and adventure, even to drown in the wide, wide Sea, than to fall into dotage and tumble from my stone seat within the Caves.”

“Then I welcome you, my friend,” said Legolas. “And it is high time to depart, for the wind is from the north, and will speed us on our way.”

They stepped onto the ship, followed by three sailors of Osgiliath, who would teach them the ways of the Sea. Behind them, a larger ship also weighed anchor, for she would escort them until they were well out from shore, and then take back on board the three Men.

Down the Anduin the grey ship sailed, and as they passed the high hill Legolas saw, with his clear sight, Galadhwen standing tall and proud with her hair unbound in the breeze, her hand raised in farewell. He raised his own hand to her, and Gimli asked, “What is it?”

“It is the lady Galadhwen,” Legolas replied softly, and Gimli was wise enough to say no more. Legolas stood in the stern, until they had passed so far down river that even Elvish sight could no longer behold her. Then he turned to face the prow, and looked behind no more.

They sailed south until, as night drew near, Legolas heard the cries of seabirds, wheeling in the air above the ports of Gondor. The evening breeze rose soft and cool from the water and swept upstream, bringing the scent of salt and seaweed and fish, and faintest of all, a hint of unearthly flowers blooming beyond the ken of mortal Men. Then did his heart leap up with joy, and he knew he had chosen aright. He would regret nothing, for this was his destiny.

The ship lay at anchor that night among the fleet of Gondor, but Legolas refused to go ashore. “I will not set foot on land again,” he said, “until I reach the shores of Eldamar across the Sea.” Gimli and the sailors left the ship, and Legolas lay awake all the night, watching the stars wheel past and the moon make his journey across the sky. Just before the sun arose, Earendil sailed above the horizon, and the beauty of the light he bore pierced Legolas’ heart with wonder. Soon, he thought, he would be among those who had not only seen the light of the Silmarils, such as the one Earendil wore on his brow, but even the light of the Trees, which had long been lost to the world.

When Gimli and the others had returned aboard, they set sails and left the River behind. As the prow cut the first wave, Legolas felt his Sea Longing subside at last. Long the ships sailed, the sleek grey vessel ever in the lead, following the coast westward, but always standing far off from shore. The sailors imparted all their knowledge of navigation and steering, and other arts of the sea, which Legolas was eager to learn.

After many days, the land fell away behind them, and nothing lay ahead but open sea. Onward both ships sailed, until at evening Legolas bade them furl their sails and rest, for on the morrow they would part. They rode at anchor that night, and the sailors aboard the Elven ship toasted the fate of their companions, and many fine speeches were made. And in the bright morning, they were set down in a small boat, and went across to the other ship, where their fellows took them aboard. Then both ships set sails again and the wind from the east sent them westward.

Legolas held the tiller and steered the grey ship straight and true. Gimli, gripping his axe with one hand and Galadriel’s lock with the other, stood in the bow, peering ahead for a sign of land. The two ships sailed side by side, and as they mounted a great sighing wave, the grey ship shuddered, and Gimli fell against the wales. Legolas braced his feet and stayed upright, as the grey ship left the Globed World and moved onto the Straight Road. The mortal ship disappeared, sailing on across the curved sea.

“Behold!” Legolas cried as he spied, far in the distance, beyond the sudden mists, a tall white tower. “It is the harbor of Alqualonde. We have reached the Straight Way, and have left Middle-earth behind.”

Gimli rose to his feet and stood with his mouth agape. The wind bore them swiftly toward the shore, and soon they were met by the white swan-ships of the Teleri, who of all the Firstborn have always loved the Sea. With such an escort, they reached the harbor and safely docked.

Legolas sprang ashore, while Gimli came more cautiously behind. Many Elves were there to greet them, arrayed in various colors and adorned with lustrous gems. The throng parted as the two companions walked among them.

“Welcome to Elvenhome,” said a familiar voice, and Legolas saw that Elrond Half-elven stood among the crowd. Beside him was his wife, Celebrian, who had sailed into the West long ago, and with them was Galadriel.

“The Lady Galadriel!” Gimli cried, rushing forward as soon as he spied her. He went to his knee before her and gazed up with reverence. “Long have I dreamt of beholding your beauty again, my Lady, and of serving you in whatever manner you deem wise.”

Galadriel smiled. “Rise, Gimli son of Gloin, most devoted of Dwarves,” she said. “By some grace you have reached these shores, and so you must be deemed worthy of much honor. I would not have you kneel before me.”

Then Gimli rose, still clutching the pendant in his hand, and Legolas took the packet of letters from his pocket. He had not thought to find Arwen’s family so quickly, and yet he had carried her missives on his person rather than in his baggage.

“These I bring from one who loved you,” he said, handing the packet to Elrond, who took it gravely.

“Then my daughter is lost to me once again,” he said. “And my foster son as well. Your coming brings sorrow as well as joy, son of Thranduil.”

Legolas bowed his head, for he could not deny it. And yet the very air burned in his lungs, and the light was so piercingly clear that he could feel nothing but joy. He had loved Greenwood the Great, and the primeval forests of Fangorn, and the gentle forests of Ithilien, but nothing in Middle-earth could compare with the beauty and delight of Eldamar.

“There is another of your acquaintance who wishes to see you,” said Galadriel. “Come, he awaits you in my house.”

Then Legolas and Gimli willingly followed her, and they traveled without weariness until at the fading of the day, they reached a noble dwelling. In the garden, Legolas spied a figure wrapped in billowing white.

“Mithrandir!” he exclaimed, and the figure turned to greet him. It was indeed Mithrandir, Gandalf the White, as merry as always, with depths of wisdom in his eyes.

“Legolas,” said Mithrandir. “And Gimli. So at least some of our Fellowship are reunited, once again.” He gestured for them to join him on the alabaster benches that ringed a glittering fountain.

“What of Bilbo and Frodo?” Legolas asked, at the mention of the Fellowship. “And Sam, I hear, sailed as well. What of them?”

Mithrandir bowed his head. “Tomorrow, if you wish, I will take you to where they lie,” he said.

“They are dead, then,” said Gimli gruffly. “I had thought perhaps they were granted immortality for their labors.”

Galadriel shook her head. “Not even the Valar can take back the Gift of Iluvatar,” she said. “Only the Firstborn remain in the world for ages on end. The Halflings – and even your own kind, Gimli – share the fate of the Secondborn. Bilbo, Frodo and Sam were granted much longer life than they would have enjoyed had they remained across the Sea, but only so far did the power of the Valar extend. In the end, they went to their well deserved sleep, as do all mortals who walk the earth.”

These words troubled Legolas, for it came to his mind as if for the first time, that of all the Fellowship of the Ring, only he and Mithrandir would remain. And even as he joined Gimli and Gandalf in recounting the adventures they had shared, he pondered this thought in his heart.

On the following day, Gandalf led them to a small glade amongst a forest of trees that made the mallorns of Lothlorien seem the merest scrub. Set in the midst of the glade were three white stones, graven with the names of the valiant Hobbits who slept beneath them. A sprinkling of delicate flowers covered the mounds, and Legolas felt a great peace as he walked among the stones.

“Did he find rest?” he asked, his hand on Frodo’s gravestone.

“Yes, he did,” said Gandalf. “Rest and peace in plenty.” He sighed. “No hero of the First Age ever faced more grief and pain than Frodo did, and yet somehow he had the strength to come through it relatively unscathed. What his own nature could not heal, the Valar did. Until his final days, he was merry and light-hearted again, like the young carefree hobbit I used to know.”

They left the glade to its silence and went back into the city, where Legolas and Gimli had each been given a house to dwell in. Gimli’s was carved of warm golden stone, and well suited to a Dwarf, which he wondered at. Yet the Noldor had been fond of crafting and building, even as the Dwarves, and some of them did not follow Feanor across the sea to Middle-earth. Legolas dwelt in a small house surrounded by a lush garden, with many trees growing not only beside the walls, but within them as well.

This house lay on the outskirts of the city, near a hill that overlooked the shore. That evening, Legolas climbed the hill and sat upon a great shelf of stone, carved with curious figures long, long ago. He looked out to the Sea as the shadow of the land stretched out over it, to cover the waves in shadow.

“What are you thinking of?” said Mithrandir, appearing so suddenly that even Legolas did not hear him approach.

“Many things,” said Legolas, “but mostly of one I left behind.”

Mithrandir nodded sagely, and lit his pipe. The sweet, pungent scent of pipeweed filled the air. Legolas had never been fond of the habit, wondering why hobbits and men would wish to foul the air and their own lungs with such a reek. And yet now, the smell of pipe smoke drew him back in memory to the day Isengard fell, and Merry and Pippin were found lounging upon the ruins of the gatehouse.

“A lady, I presume,” Mithrandir said at last.

“Yes,” said Legolas. “Galadhwen is her name. She would not leave Ithilien.”

“And so you sailed without her,” the wizard said, blowing a smoke ring that formed itself into the perfect image of the sleek grey ship that had borne Legolas and Gimli across the Sea.

“I had to,” Legolas said. “I would not stay, and dwindle, watching the cities of Men grow greater and greater, forgetting their brothers who dwell amongst the trees. I do not presume to be among the wise, Gandalf, but I know this much: Elves, Dwarves, Ents, even the Halflings, will all be driven back, forgotten in all but the old tales that are told to children. One day, Men will scoff at he who speaks of our kind as having truly lived. And those who remain will hide in the wilderness, fearful and forgetful of the glory that was once theirs.” When he finished speaking, he felt a bit dazed, as if some one other than himself had spoken with his voice.

“And there is something else,” he went on. “I have thought much about what Galadriel said, of the Gift of Iluvatar. All my life I have wondered at that phrase, for why should it be called a Gift, when Men are made feeble and weak by age, and must leave those they love after a handful of years? Yet now I think I understand.”

“And why is that?” Gandalf prompted.

“Because Men, and Dwarves and Hobbits, and all mortal beings, are not bound to the Circles of the World,” Legolas said. “Even as they see their loved ones fall, they are consoled to think that, if all that is said is true, when they too depart the world, they will be reunited with those who have gone before. This is not true of the Firstborn, for we must endure until the world itself is unmade. Even those who fall in body do not leave Arda, but are gathered into the Halls of Mandos to await the end.” He sighed heavily. “Were I a mortal Man,” he said, “I would be able to believe that in due time, I should leave this world, and in that world beyond which Elvenkind cannot reach, I would find Galadhwen again. But I do not possess the Gift of Iluvatar, and so I must wait all the long ages of the world in hopes of seeing her yet again.”

Mithrandir nodded, puffing on his pipe, and said nothing for some while. And then he quietly said, “And yet, ships can still be built, and some remain who can sail the Straight Road, and who can tell what will come to pass in the long years that remain to the world?” He rose then, knocked the ashes from his pipe, and walked away.

Legolas remained on the hill, long after the sun had gone away. His heart was lighter than it had been, though still he sorrowed. When Earendil sailed into the sky, his light reflected in the gentle waves of the sea, Legolas rose and walked in hope beneath the stars.

#lord of the rings #lotr #lotr fanfic #lord of the rings fanfic #legolas greenleaf #legolas #gimli #gimli son of gloin #middle earth #tolkien #tolkien fanfiction

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ebaeschnbliah · 1 year

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That morning they lit a fire in a deep hollow shrouded by great bushes of holly, and their supper-breakfast was merrier than it had been since they set out. They did not hurry to bed afterwards, for they expected to have all the night to sleep in, and they did not mean to go on again until the evening of the next day. Only Aragorn was silent and restless. After a while he left the Company and wandered on to the ridge; there he stood in the shadow of a tree, looking out southwards and westwards, with his head posed as if he was listening. Then he returned to the brink of the dell and looked down at the others laughing and talking.

`What is the matter, Strider?' Merry called up. 'What are you looking for? Do you miss the East Wind?'

'No indeed,' he answered. `But I miss something. I have been in the country of Hollin in many seasons. No folk dwell here now, but many other creatures live here at all times, especially birds. Yet now all things but you are silent. I can feel it. There is no sound for miles about us, and your voices seem to make the ground echo. I do not understand it.'

Gandalf looked up with sudden interest. `But what do you guess is the reason?' he asked. `Is there more in it than surprise at seeing four hobbits, not to mention the rest of us, where people are so seldom seen or heard?'

`I hope that is it,' answered Aragorn. `But I have a sense of watchfulness, and of fear, that I have never had here before.'

"Then we must be more careful,' said Gandalf. 'If you bring a Ranger with you, it is well to pay attention to him, especially if the Ranger is Aragorn. We must stop talking aloud, rest quietly, and set the watch.'

It was Sam's turn that day to take the first watch, but Aragorn joined him. The others fell asleep. Then the silence grew until even Sam felt it. The breathing of the sleepers could be plainly heard. The swish of the pony's tail and the occasional movements of his feet became loud noises. Sam could hear his own joints creaking, if he stirred. Dead silence was around him, and over all hung a clear blue sky, as the Sun rode up from the East. Away in the South a dark patch appeared, and grew, and drove north like flying smoke in the wind.

`What's that, Strider? It don't look like a cloud ...'

... said Sam in a whisper to Aragorn. He made no answer, he was gazing intently at the sky; but before long Sam could see for himself what was approaching. Flocks of birds, flying at great speed, were wheeling and circling, and traversing all the land as if they were searching for something; and they were steadily drawing nearer.

`Lie flat and still!' hissed Aragorn, pulling Sam down into the shade of a holly-bush; for a whole regiment of birds had broken away suddenly from the main host, and came, flying low, straight towards the ridge. Sam thought they were a kind of crow of large size. As they passed overhead, in so dense a throng that their shadow followed them darkly over the ground below, one harsh croak was heard.

Not until they had dwindled into the distance, north and west, and the sky was again clear would Aragorn rise. Then he sprang up and went and wakened Gandalf.

`Regiments of black crows are flying over all the land between the Mountains and the Greyflood,' he said, `and they have passed over Hollin. They are not natives here; they are crebain out of Fangorn and Dunland. I do not know what they are about: possibly there is some trouble away south from which they are fleeing; but I think they are spying out the land. I have also glimpsed many hawks flying high up in the sky. I think we ought to move again this evening. Hollin is no longer wholesome for us: it is being watched.'

`And in that case so is the Redhorn Gate,' said Gandalf; `and how we can get over that without being seen, I cannot imagine. But we will think of that when we must. As for moving as soon as it is dark, I am afraid that you are right.'

JRR Tolkien, The Lord of the Rings, The Fellowship of the Ring, The Ring goes South

#the lord of the rings #the fellowship of the ring #the ring goes south #jrr tolkien #gandalf #aragorn #boromir #frodo #sam #merry #pippin #bill the pony #legolas #gimli #crebain #movie pics #peter jackson

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velvet-apricots · 2 years

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Pokemon Elden Ring characters would own

Marika

Arceus - A god for a god

Radagon

Arcanine - self explanatory

Lycaroc (dusk form) - dog that evolves only at night

Zacian - Dog with sword… The man likes dogs okay?

Ranni the Witch

Lucario - A dog that walks on two legs and is blue. Very Blaidd

Frosmoth - Ice type, a moth. Goes with night and chill

Lunala - Moon based, legendary for the possible god

Mismagius - A lil witch with a big hat just like Ranni =3

Godfrey

Golurk - Has something on it to control its immense power. Old as fuck

Incineroar - A cat that wrestles. He’d be into that

Machamp - He would like to wrestle with it =3

Rennala

Happini - baby pokemon

Crecelia - Moon based legendary

Aurorus - Fossil pokemon so it needs to be revived

Lunatone - Literally a moon

Morgott

Zoroark - Veils itself to hide what it is for a surprise attack

Mimikyu - also hides itself as it hates itself. Probably a childhood companion, he loves it very much.

Corviknight - Reminds me of his night’s calvary

Mohg

Garbodor - probably met it in the sewers and it's his old childhood companion

Toxicroak - idk it reminds me of him.

Hydregion - super powerful but almost uncontrollable and very dangerous, much like trying to do the will of an outer god

Malenia

Skarmory - Sword bird

Scyther - Sword bug

Sirfetch’d - Sword Bird

Volcarona - Her wings are made of moths and it looks like her Scarlet Aeonia

Miquella

Kricketune - Bug

Vespiquen - bug

Orbeetle - Bug that can mind control people

Pheremosa - Bug that can mesmerize people… Listen he would have nothing but bugs

Godwyn (before death)

Drampa - a dragon

Salamance - a dragon

Dragonite - A friendly round dragon, his main pokemon

Garchomp - do you get it yet? the only thing he trains is dragons.

Radahn

Rapidash (both forms) - Horse

Zebraska - horse

Musdale - horse

Clefable - Can learn gravity, comes from space, radahn seems like a man who would like cute pink pokemon and not be ashamed of it

Godrick

Babaracle - Lots of hands

Golisopod - lots of arms that it uses to fight, knows when to dip out of a fight when it's getting tough

Druddigon - he can have a dragon as a treat.

Rykard

Arbok - snake

Selviper - snake

Dunsparce - fat cute snake

Giratina - Banished for being naughty, wants to wreck god’s shit

Gideon Ofnir

Alakazam - Very smart and hits very hard, but is a glass cannon just like Gideon.

Runeringus - carved with forbidden knowledge. SOmething Gideon would love

Slowking - Very smart, very knowledgeable

Bisharp - Lots of pawns it can command, i just like it and i want him to have it.

Nepheli

Talonflame - a hawk for the rightful lord of stormveil

Klevor - has two axes just like her

Rogier

Cubone - traumatized lil guy like him

Musharna - Dreams and sleep… haha im sorry

Gallade - Noble and heroic swordsman

Fia

Litwick - steals warmth from others

Yamask - ghost pokemon that was once human

Banette - spiteful of those that wronged it

Roderika

Snubbull - popular among women, loyal and affectionate, just what she needs

Spritzee - Remnant of Roderika’s life as a noble.

Espeon - once an eevee, sees Roderika as extremely worthy, and defends her tirelessly

D, Hunter of the Dead

Absol - Misunderstood and hated by others, much like D himself. It would be his only pokemon

Patches

Scrafty - trouble maker and a punk that would probably push you off a cliff

Purloin - mischievous. Puts on a cute, friendly act to get close to people so they can steal from them. Would also push you off a clif if it had the power to

#elden ring #pokemon #ranni the witch #malenia blade of miquella #miquella #godrick the grafted #starscourge radahn #a lot of characters are covered in this

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tabsters · 9 months

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to cope with the horrible pain amphibia S1 has brought me, i bring you lore

hdaskhdkalshdklashdka i'm not well oh my god anyway BIRD CONSTELLATION TIME!!

@mythicalmagical-monkeyman @hyperfixation-tangentopia

previous posts are here

BIRD CONSTELLATION WIVES: Corvus, Columba, Cygnus, Aquila, Lyra!!

These five are in a polyamorous relationship and they are all married to each other. Wives. Love them.

Tallest to shortest is Aquila, Columba, Corvus, Cygnus, and Lyra.

Lyra's the smallest but she's also the one that you don't want to piss off. She's filled with rage 24/7.

Aquila, Corvus, and Lyra are the advisors for Aquarius, Capricorn, and Libra, respectively. How Columba and Cygnus managed to snag three of the most important constellations, we still do not know.

They all share custody of a very fat cat named Domino.

These five were actually the first constellations I made after making the Zodiacs! (besides Ophiuchus and Cetus, but I designed Ophi and Cetus while I was designing the Zodiacs so they don't count)

Corvus was actually Capricorn's servant back when they were mortal. It seems that some things never change.

Columba was a child actress in her mortal life and suffered from a large amount of body issues as a result.

Lyra's got two older sisters, both constellations. Their parents got into a bit of gambling trouble, which is how the next part happened:

Lyra also has no forearms. She was mutilated in her mortal life, and as such, she has shiny prosthetics to replace them. (insert something poetic about how her touches can only be cold, never warm, yadda yadda) Why did she get mutilated? Answer: DO NOT FUCK WITH A KOREAN GANG LORD.

I still have yet to work on Aquila's and Cygnus' backstories. Oops.

Aquila dabbles a lot in witchcraft.

Their relationship started out with just Columba and Cygnus, then the two of them inviting Corvus, Aquila joining as Corvus' fuckbuddy, and then all of them just simultaneously fell in love with Lyra.

Ethnicities: Corvus: Vietnamese-Chinese Columba: Thai Cygnus: Filipino Aquila: Indian (Marathi) Lyra: Korean

Voice claims: Corvus: Underneath the Mask by Royal & The Serpent Columba: Are You Satisfied? by Marina Cygnus: Ordinary by Joriah Kwamé Aquila: Playground by Bea Miller Lyra: SOLO by Jennie

I tried to base their love languages off of actual birds!

Lyra: Building pillow mounds and cuddling with her wives. She is very persistent about getting cuddles, and will easily find a way to get at least one of them into her pillow fort with her.

Cygnus: Stealing her wives' clothes. She hoards oversized hoodies and T-shirts like nobody's business.

Corvus: Humming softly into her wives' ears with her arms around them. She'll do this mostly if they're working, she'll walk up to them, hug them and hum for a bit, and then leave.

Columba: Collecting shiny rocks or pebbles and leaving them on her wives' desks. She's memorized their favorite colors and types of rocks specifically for this.

Aquila: Playing with her wives' hair. Doesn't matter if it's braiding it, running her fingers through it, or slapping her wives in the face with it, she will do it.

THEIR MARRIAGE RINGS. OKAY OKAY I NEED TO TALK ABOUT THEIR MARRIAGE RINGS BECAUSE I HAVE THOUGHT ABOUT THEM FOR AN UNREASONABLY LONG TIME.

Each of them have four rings, and their names are engraved on the rings (ex: Corvus' rings have 'Aquila', 'Columba', 'Cygnus', 'Lyra', etc. etc.)

They all agreed that to avoid losing their rings (because all of them are disasters at keeping track of things), they'd figure out ways to have them on at all times.

Aquila shrunk her rings and wears them as hoop earrings

Columba enlarged hers and wears them as bangles

Corvus merged her four rings into two rings, stuck a chain to them and wears them on her middle fingers, kinda like this:

Cygnus enlarged hers and wears them as arm bracelets

Lyra shrunk her rings and threaded them onto a necklace

AND THAT'S ALL FOR THE BIRD WIVES!! LOVE EM SO MUCH!!

questions about my lore are greatly appreciated!!

#oc #oc lore #zodiac #zodiacs #zodiac sign #zodiac signs #zodiac lore

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eleanoraborealis · 1 year

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🎶🍄🧚‍♂️✨️🌌

This is the cover image for my new fanfic: https://archiveofourown.org/works/43858488?view_full_work=true

Arwen Undomiel twitched awake on a flet barely large enough to lie down on. She scowled into the shifting light of the hot, summer sun as it filtered through the glinting silvery undersides of the mallorn leaves. She pushed herself halfway up, still scowling, one hand going to the ring that hung around her neck.

A gentle breeze made the foliage whisper and way up in these thin branches the heat was almost pleasant. The day was bright and clear and sweltering and the mood in Caras Galadhon was subdued. Far below her she could hear distant voices raised in musical laughter and the general sound of elven bustle. The phosphorescent insects which enjoyed the shelter of the higher canopies buzzed softly, playing in her dark hair as it laid about her on the straw sleeping mat.

She squeezed shut her eyes trying to remember her dream, the dream had been long and complicated and the only image she could hold onto was Elladan, bare chested and smeared with what looked like glowing paint, messy hair half braided with a halo of white flowers, blood pouring down his face, clutching onto a… halfling baby? She covered her eyes with one delicate hand. He had one hand held out to her and was asking for something, pleading, but no matter how hard she strained to hear him, his voice, when he tried to speak only mouthfuls of flower petals fell from his lips. What to do?

She rolled onto her stomach and peeked cautiously over the edge of the platform. She could observe almost everything that transpired on the lower levels of the palace from this place that she had discovered centuries ago. It was also the best place she had ever found for afternoon naps. And sneaking.

She fidgeted with the ring on her necklace, zipping it back and fourth.

She watched her grandmother cross the entrance hall escorted by Galhadrim nobles, greeting the guests from the Greenwood with a courtly sweep of her billowing sleeve. Arwen wondered, had she been expected to greet them? for a split second, as Galadriel turned to lead the elves inside, her bright eyes flashed up to the canopy as Arwen disappeared. Where was Celeborn?

She would not go to her grandmother with this dream.

Instead Elrond's daughter escaped through the canopy. Her goal was an ancient and isolated Mallorn Tree outside the city. It had been struck by lightning and its heart was all but burned away. Many centuries ago her grandfather had poured much of his own living energy into it in an effort to save the tree which now flourished but had a burned empty hole straight through the trunk. It was here that the Lord of the Golden Wood went to meditate.

Celeborn sat on the beaten earth with his hands in his lap, white butterflies and glimmering phosphorescence dancing around his head. His long pale hair lay loose around his shoulders in the style of a philosopher and he wore only a simple grey robe. As Arwen approached him the broad smile that spread across his face seemed to intensify the otherworldly light that haunted his body

and his hands closed around something that he had been contemplating.

"Good afternoon grandfather." Arwen approached him respectfully, his luminous sky blue eyes looked up for a moment from his contemplation and indicated a place on the ground to his right.

Arwen took the example of his silence and sat beside him, arranging her garments to cover her knees and breathing in the heady smell of thirsty mallorn trees in the fullness of their summer foliage. Birds sang in the high swaying branches of her grandfather's tree, which alone of all the trees in the wood had no rope or flet or alteration. This was a sacred place, and Arwen found that the soil was cool beneath her and her mind began to drift to the strange and troubling dream of her brother. Her hand soon found the ring beneath her tunic. Looking up she suddenly realized that she was being watched, studied.

"it's going to rain soon," was all her grandfather said, smelling the air.

"it usually does when it gets this hot." Arwen observed. Celeborn hummed as if this had never occurred to him. He let the silence open a gentle space between them, into which she could safely deposit whatever was darkening her spirit.

"The emissary from the Greenwood is here." She told him, he knew how he could completely psychically isolate himself in these trances.

"Are they." He noted thoughtfully, peeking his fea up out of his meditative hermeticism just enough to attempt to spy on his wife. She would be fine for a few minutes. For now his focus was on Arwen who appeared positively vibrating with agitation. "and you are… hiding from your grandmother." He observed, "and failing to do so." He sang the last five words. "she knows exactly where you are my dear little sapling." Arwen snorted. "alas." He studied her intensely, her small hand held something under her dress at her chest, "you have doomed us both." He breathed deeply of the perfumed summer air, a breeze lifted his hair and Celeborn turned the object he held in his hands.

"What is this?" Arwen reached out as he handed it to his granddaughter. It was a mallorn nut, large and shiny and brownish red. As smooth as if polished by Aule himself. Similar in shape and color to those that lay all around the forest floor and were made into every sort of confectionery by the chefs of Caras Galadhon.

"Do you notice anything strange about it?" The Lord of the Golden Wood asked her, studying her as she turned it and her hair fell down to her lap.

"What's' this?" she pointed to the seam where the two halves of the nut met, a tiny trace of silver as bright as purest mithril ran along it.

Celeborn leveled a searching gaze at his grandaughter before saying, "it's fertile." He let the significance sink into her for a moment, Arwen shook her head so he continued, "I found it this morning, on the path, just there, he glanced outside of their shelter." He took the nut back thoughtfully, it fit comfortably into his palm. "I haven't…" something caught in his throat and he blinked, holding the seed to his heart, "I haven't seen a fertile mallorn nut in almost three thousand years. They are not born idly, these trees must be pollinated by a powerful will." He cocked an eyebrow. "Then nurtured through germination, until the silver covers the whole thing," he rotated the nut between thumb and middle finger, "and planted somewhere peaceful and given clean water and starlight." He tossed the nut deftly up into the receding darkness of the great empty trunk above them and caught it between his hands, suddenly Arwen saw the resemblance of her brothers in him and her dream from her nap came rushing back.

"Elladan." She breathed, "the twins are in trouble."

"The twins ARE trouble." He nodded, "I know, for I have had the same dream." He twitched an eyebrow, "I believe they were... what is the old song? 'Meddling in the affairs of Wizards' and mortals..." He shook his head, wholly bewildered as to why some elves seemed to be drawn forever towards the business of the Second Borns. His woods were secret and largely considered hostile and as long as the rest of the world stayed afraid of his wife and out of their business he was a contented elf. But now that they had gone and gotten involved, something told him that his grandsons plea through the shifting bonds of dreams and families was sincere.

Still, his thumbnail traced the silver line on the nut. "It belongs to the Shire." He breathed, some trembling of premonition sweeping over him, "but its fea is yet but a spark, in half a yen, perhaps, it will be ready for planting, until then," Celeborn pulled a silken pouch from under his robe and slipping the nut inside, he returned it to hang at his chest. "hope." He put one hand over his heart and with the other he stroked down his granddaughter's hair.

Suddenly emotional, he ran his hand down to gently pull the chain from the collar of her dress. He looked for a long moment at the ring before the tears took him with a shaking sob and he pulled his sweet Arwen into a crushing embrace.

#lord of the rings #celeborn #tolkien elves #fanart #middle earth

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