Lindir X reader
Keyword : milkshake
"Lindir, come try this!" You called over to your elf lover after you had just come back from a trip to the modern world (A portal, teleportation, whatever you want to imagine). You heard the steps of your favourite ellon behind you and you turned around to gaze at your beloved. "Yes My love?" He strides infront of you and sits beside you on one of the many garden benches, staring curiously at the glass cup in your hand. "What is that that your drinking?" He peers up to see inside the cup that you had brought back from your trip like it was some strange creature he had never seen before.
"try some, it tastes quite nice" grabbing the cup from the bottom, you push it towards Lindir and slowly let go of the bottom while handing it over to him. His hand flinched slightly as he felt the cold bottom but he soon brought the liquid to his lips and sips a small amount. It was clear but the strange expression on your poor lover's face that he was not used to the cold and the unusual expression continued until he swallowed it. "Well?" You ask as his face finally seems to be turning back to normal.
"it's really... Something" he says, still trying to recover from the cold feeling that just filled his mouth while you resisted the urge to laugh. He continued "it doesn't taste bad just... Colder than I was expecting" you finally let out a soft chuckle and watch as Lindir chuckled with you before he spoke again "I would certainly not mind some more though, especially if it would make you happy"
This was just something I thought I would quickly upload before I start the requests so sorry if it's a bit short.
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Fic: The Restless Botanist 1/10, M, Erestor/Glorfindel, Elrond/Lindir
Chapter 1: The Efficient Minstrel
(link goes to AO3)
Who would be better suited to deal with a restless spirit than one who has already experienced the afterlife? Alas, Glorfindel finds that obstinate Elves do not become more docile in death. And if he wants Lindir to return order to the Last Homely House and love to the life of Lord Elrond, Glorfindel has to grasp the nettle – among other plants.
This tale was originally scheduled for Hallowe'en 2020, so I'm a little late. But goosebumps work well at 30°.
This is a ghost story, and ghosts are, by their very nature, individuals who are not dwelling among the living anymore. I still don't think this needs a "major character death" warning, though.
searching for beta reader
hi all! i'm searching for a beta reader for my lord of the rings fanfiction. it's an aramir (aragorn/boromir) fic, roughly 40,000 words which i know is a large commitment, but if anyone's interested please dm me here or on twitter @/shattered_topaz <3
Cat of the Fellowship: Chapter 23
Chapter 23: Who is the mysterious wizard, and what does he want with them? The company learns many things about the past, present and future.
Links to the story:
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Little Swan Lost Chapter 39
Thorin hadn’t realized it was possible for a human to turn as scarlet red as the girl did when he opened the door. She then did her best to look anywhere but him but her eyes, almost on their own, darted toward his chest every few seconds. Every time they did, he swore she discovered a new intensity of red.
At least he didn’t have to worry about whether his young wife found him physically attractive.
The thought passed idly through his mind, only to be pushed out by another taking its place. He had personally seen her being escorted back into the palace on their wedding night, and her cousin had all but accused her of infidelity. The media reports and rumors, many traced directly back to Shire, also painted her as…promiscuous to say the least.
Thorin had half expected similar rumors to crop up in Erebor, especially after discovering she’d found a way to sneak out of the palace.
Those rumors had never come, however, and now, watching her reaction to him, he questioned if she’d ever seen a man without his shirt on much less done anything else with one. Instead of behaving like the tart the media painted her as, she was behaving far more like a…
“I’m sorry,” Bilba suddenly blurted, derailing his train of thought. She waved a hand vaguely toward where the worst of the bruising from the ocean fiasco had stained his torso a mottled yellow and black. “That must hurt.”
It did, but there was no reason to rub it in her face. “It’s fine,” Thorin said instead. “What about you?”
“Oh.” Her hand lifted slightly toward her side. “I’m all right. Thank you for asking.”
They lapsed into an awkward silence, until Thorin finally cleared his throat. “Did you want something?”
Bilba jumped. “Did you hear what happened today?” Her voice was so quiet he could barely hear her. She started wringing her hands aggressively, leaving the skin reddened.
Without thinking, Thorin put a hand over hers, stopping them mid-motion. She froze, and her eyes went wide.
“Sorry.” He pulled his hand back.
“No, it’s fine,” she said quickly, waving her hands in front of her. “It’s-- ”
She trailed off again and Thorin suppressed a sigh. They’d be here all night at this rate. “You were saying?” he asked, struggling to keep the frustration from his voice. “I was in meetings all day, so I haven’t heard much of anything.”
Meetings that had left him drained and fighting a headache, which was why he’d grabbed some pain medication and gone straight to bed afterward, only to be woken up less than an hour later by her knocking on his door.
Her shoulders slumped a half inch or so as if relieved to find him ignorant. Probably not a good sign.
“I just thought I should tell you. Before –”
“I hear it from someone else?” Thorin filled in. Definitely a bad sign then. He sighed and resigned himself to still more frustration before he’d be allowed to sleep again. “All right.” He gestured toward the couch. “Shall we?”
She nodded, and then paused, eyes darting toward his chest. Thorin raised an eyebrow in question. “Would you prefer it if I put on a shirt first?”
Another nod and Thorin pushed off the doorframe to retrieve a black t-shirt from his closet. It was one he used as an undershirt so it was on the tighter side, but it would have to do. He didn’t really have any casual clothes and he wasn’t about to get dressed back in his uniform for…whatever this was.
He returned to the door. “Better?”
She muttered something that sounded like “marginally” and headed for the couch with him close on her heels.
He sat on one end, and she immediately headed to the exact opposite side. In a seamless, graceful move she sat and pulled her legs up so they somehow fit perfectly beside her on the small cushion. Thorin would have dislocated a hip if he tried to copy that position, but she looked entirely comfortable. His own flexibility was limited to throwing an arm along the back of the couch and crossing a leg to allow him to face her easier.
“You’re a dancer, right?” he asked, only to mentally kick himself. Of course she was a dancer, he’d literally witnessed her doing it.
“I danced for a company back in Shire.” A look of genuine happiness crossed her face, and Thorin realized it was the first time he’d ever seen it. “I was hoping I could maybe dance for the one here in Erebor too.”
Thorin tried, and failed, to find a diplomatic response. He suspected the girl didn’t understand being crown princess wasn’t just a title, but a full-time job. Nori had reported Bilba had lived a relatively civilian life in Shire, but Thorin had thought she’d at least have some idea of what being a princess entailed.
It was becoming increasingly clear that she did not. She’d never inquired about her duties and responsibilities, and while a schedule had been mentioned to her, Thorin doubted she understood just what it meant. The fact she wanted to work at a bakery, and attend college, and was now expressing interest in dancing proved that much.
The look on her face was fading, and he knew he’d waited to long to answer.
“We’ll see,” he said finally, lamely trying to salvage what little he could. “You can bring it up to Balin.”
Perhaps they could work something out where she did certain things part time or only part of the year. There was also the possibility of patronages where they could potentially incorporate what she wanted into her actual duties. It’d depend on what duties she ended up having, and the possible conflicts between those responsibilities and the things she wanted to do.
She gave him a weak, false smile and focused on where her hands were clasped in her lap. “I suppose.” She shifted in her seat and took a deep breath. “All right, I guess I should stop stalling and just tell you.”
The sense of dread reared up again and settled across Thorin’s shoulders. If she’d gone to the trouble of getting him up and was fidgeting this badly, he wasn’t sure he wanted to hear it. “All right.”
She started talking, eyes focused on her hands and voice low as she recounted the events of the day. By the end of it all, Thorin had shut his eyes and was pinching the bridge of his nose in a futile attempt to ward off the worsening headache behind his temples.
Bilba lapsed into silence.
“First off,” he said eventually, opening his eyes and straightening to face Bilba. “I apologize on behalf of my father. He’s an idiot and had no right to do that to you.”
Or at least he had no right to do it the way he had. Thorin doubted the Thain of Shire cared whether or not the girl could produce an heir, not with the crown having four already, but he wouldn’t put it past the man sending someone infertile out of simple spite. So Thorin could at least understand having the question.
Having the question after barely a month, however, was ridiculous and forcing the girl into an exam was asinine. He could imagine what his sister had said to their father, and he fully intended to add his own part in the morning.
He’d also need to speak to Kyra. She didn’t deserve whatever his father had said on top of everything else she was dealing with. The media had been split on her since the wedding, with some giving her sympathy and the rest mocking her mercilessly. He’d heard some of what was being said and it was brutal. Kyra hadn’t commented on it, but he had no doubt she was aware of it.
“It’s all right.” She bit her lower lip. “I tried to tell Dis I didn’t need--”
“Dis is a force of nature,” Thorin said, waving off her explanation. “Trying to control her just encourages her.”
A ghost of a smile graced Bilba’s face. Her shoulders slumped with relief, and she leaned a little harder into the back of the couch.
“I appreciate you telling me,” Thorin added, and he meant it. It suggested at least some level of trust, even if she didn’t fully realize it. Even if she’d believed his reaction might be negative, she’d still gone to the length of waking him up to have a private conversation with him.
She was more comfortable with him than she thought, and if that was the case...
An idea that had been percolating at the back of his mind for awhile pushed to the front, and Thorin acted on it before he could talk himself out of it.
“I wonder,” he started slowly, his own nerves suddenly on edge. “Since we’re already on the topic, if I could ask you something.”
She raised an eyebrow in question, and he froze as uncertainty settled in. This probably wasn’t the best time but, then again, when was a good time to bring up physical intimacy? He’d idly hoped she’d approach him, especially based on the reports from Shire, but that hadn’t happened. Was it because she’d been finding an outlet somewhere else, or was it that the reports were wrong all together?
There was also the fact that he hadn’t even spoken to her until just recently and, again, how did one broach such a topic, particularly to a stranger? Oh, by the way, I know we barely know one another, but I’m not a huge fan of celibacy so I was wondering…”
Yeah, that would go over well, wouldn’t it?
But now she’d brought it up, in a roundabout way, so wouldn’t this be the perfect time to…
“You didn’t consummate the marriage, did you?”
Kyra’s words, almost the first thing she’d said to him after he’d called her on the wedding night.
A sick feeling settled in his gut.
What was he thinking? How could he do that to Kyra? She’d be devastated if he did…that…and she found out.
“Of course not.”
That’s what he’d said to her. Of course not, and he’d meant it even though, in the back of his mind he’d been thinking of the duty of one day needing to produce a male heir.
Just a duty.
Intimacy for a purpose, not because he simply…wanted it.
And yet, here he was, about to ask about exactly that.
Mahal, what did that say about him? Was he really that fickle? Was it so important to him that he’d betray the woman who’d been by his side since childhood?
But you betrayed her already, didn’t you? A voice inside his head whispered. You broke your engagement, and married another, didn’t you?
He’d thought he was doing the right thing. He still thought so, most of the time. He’d made his choice and it had been the right one, hadn’t it? He’d been taught since childhood that duty to the crown came above all else. It had been a matter of honor.
And, besides, if he’d refused…if he’d abdicated the throne in favor of marrying Kyra…would that have really been better? Frerin, who had neither the temperament nor the desire to rule, would have been named heir. The nobility would have torn him apart.
Dis would have been there.
Even so, Thorin knew his father would have disowned him and fired Kyra from her position as ambassador. He would have been left penniless, and at the mercy of living off Kyra’s finances.
It was highly possibly they’d have had to leave Erebor, and for what?
For what indeed?
Krya would never be happy living a simple life, and Thorin would be useless for it. He was a crown prince. He didn’t know how to be anything else.
He’d had an uncle once who left everything behind to marry a woman his family had not approved of. He’d ended up rotting away at the villa of some benevolent relative or another, unable to find work due to his notoriety and lack of skill set. There was little call in the workforce for an ex-noble that had fallen out of favor with those in power.
Over time, his uncle had begun to resent his new wife and that resentment had grown into a cancer that had utterly poisoned their relationship.
If Thorin had gone down that same road, would he have faced the same end?
He feared the answer was yes. Yes and, in that, the choice, in the end, had been that there was no choice.
His father questioned why he didn’t abdicate.
The answer was he couldn’t. The answer was there were no good options, no good roads or paths to take that would lead him to an end he desired.
There was only the least painful route.
The route that did the least damage.
The route that protected Kyra from the worst possible pain, even if she didn’t see it.
If it was the right choice, then why work so hard to undo it?
Why are you questioning it?
Why not just ask?
Kyra’s face when he’d told her the engagement was broken filled his mind and a surge of nausea roiled in his gut. He pushed to his feet, guilt making his very bones ache. “Never mind,” he said, voice sharper than he’d intended. “I shouldn’t have said anything.”
He almost ran into his room and shut the door, the last sight he had of Bilba’s eyes, wide and startled where she still sat on the couch.
He pressed his hands on the door, leaned his head against it, and let out a quiet groan.
She probably thought he was insane.
He thought he was insane, sometimes.
He pushed off the door and paced to his balcony. He threw open the doors and was immediately hit by the bitter cold air coming off the ocean. The loud roar of the sea washed over him, and he heard the distant sound of a ship’s horn.
Thorin walked out onto the balcony, stone cold beneath his feet, and leaned forward to rest his hand on the stone railing. The skies were overcast, as they often were in Erebor, so there was little to see but he could imagine it well enough.
Light caught his attention and he turned to see it shining merrily from Bilba’s windows.
Those windows were supposed to belong to Kyra. The entire room in fact. She’d designed it, even slept in it when she wasn’t in his room. They’d been all but living together right up until the very end when he’d pulled it all down around her without warning.
What kind of man did that?
He tightened his hands on the railing until he felt the edge of the stone cutting into his palms, and then shoved off it angrily.
He stalked back into his room, dropped onto his back on his bed and dug the heels of his hands into his eyes.
Mahal, what was he doing?
This was done with. He’d made his decision. Why was he questioning it now? He needed to stop. Stop questioning, stop having Ori look for ways out, stop…
Kyra’s heartbroken sobs rang through his mind, and suddenly bile was forcing its way up his throat. Thorin lunged from the bed, and barely made it to the bathroom before he lost what little he’d been able to eat that day.
When he was done, he leaned forward to rest his head against the cold porcelain of the toilet lid, chest heaving as he caught his breath.
Some crown prince he was.
Some fiancé, or husband for that matter.
He and Kyra should have just eloped, years ago when they’d have the chance. He could have given Kyra the large wedding she wanted later, after his father had a chance to calm down. Bilba would have ended up married to Frerin, who was closer in age to her and had far less baggage to cart around.
It would have been better for all of them.
He pushed himself shakily to his feet and went to rinse his mouth at the sink. A glance in the mirror showed him looking haggard, dark circles under his eyes from the day full of meetings, and his hair unkempt.
“Get ahold of yourself,” he ordered under his breath to his reflection. “You’re the crown prince for Mahal’s sake.”
His reflection offered nothing but judgement in return. Thorin splashed water on his face, grabbed a towel to dry off and went to try and get some sleep.
It would be a long time coming and, when it did, his dreams were haunted by the sound of a woman crying and a voice shouting one single question for which he had no answer.
Bilba didn’t know how long she sat on the couch before finally getting up to retire to her room. At her door, she paused and looked over her shoulder toward Thorin’s room. She could hear him in there, pacing about, clearly unsettled.
“Since we’re already on the topic, there’s something I’ve been wanting to ask you about.”
Which topic? They’d talked about money before, and he’d never brought anything up so that left the topic of…heirs? He’d wanted to talk about heirs?
No, she thought as sudden heat flooded her face. Not heirs.
He’d wanted to talk about sex.
Wanted to but, instead, had freaked out as far as she could tell and ran off to his room?
Bilba walked into her own room slowly and shut the door behind her. Her room, but Kyra had designed it. How close must they have been to the wedding for Kyra to have designed her room in the marital suite?
He must have been sleeping with her.
Bilba paused mid-step as the thought crossed her mind. She knew that already, logically. They’d been together for years, all but married. She knew it, but this was the first time she’d recognized it.
It must have been a drastic change, for both of them. Their entire lives upended in an instant.
A heavy feeling settled over her, and Bilba wrapped her arms around herself. She’d been congratulating herself on not being bitter but had simultaneously been judging Thorin and Kyra for every time they so much as looked at one another.
If anything, they should be the ones who were bitter. Especially Kyra. Every day she saw the man she loved but couldn’t touch him.
Bilba sank down onto the end of her bed and tried to imagine if she had been Kyra, having to watch Bofur with someone else.
It would have hurt, and she hadn’t even been with him that long. Not as long as Kyra and Thorin had been.
She sighed and studied her hands. She wasn’t so good a person that she fully sympathized with either of them, but she supposed it wouldn’t kill her to try a little harder to be understanding, would it?
A soft scratching came from her balcony doors, and she got up to go open them a slit. Immediately the beach cat strolled in, damp and irritable but with tail and head held high.
“Did you get caught by the tide coming in?” Bilba asked. She scooped the small creature up and went to grab a towel to dry the small animal off with. Once that was done, she changed, turned off the lights and climbed into bed. The cat burrowed under the covers and curled against her stomach, purring softly.
Bilba absently stroked its head, while staring blankly into the darkness.
Had Thorin really wanted to talk about…that? She suppressed a shiver. If he had, it’d probably come up again, or maybe not. Maybe it wasn’t even what she’d thought. Maybe he’d been wanting to ask her if he could continue to have sex with Kyra.
Bilba scowled. Sympathy or not, she didn’t think she’d be okay with that. But she also didn’t think she’d be okay with him wanting to be intimate with her, either.
That wasn’t particularly fair though, was it? If it was something he wanted enough to try talking to her about, then shouldn’t she at least hear him out? Should she bring it up, or wait and see if he mentioned it again sometime down the road?
She’d prefer the latter. Maybe he’d just forget about it all together and never bring it up again?
She sighed. It had been so much easier with Bofur. They’d had a foundation, a relationship that made it easy to just talk when they needed to talk. They’d talked about intimacy. He’d understood her hesitancy, if not the reasons for it, and had assured her he was fine with it.
It had honestly never occurred to her that Thorin might not be.
She sighed and pulled the covers up to her chin. The thought of him possibly wanting…intimacy…made her nervous but didn’t particularly scare her. Mainly because she was confident that, if he’d planned to bully her or pressure her, she’d have known that by now. So she could say no.
She hoped she could say no.
She hadn’t actually said it to him yet, had she?
Some men were so kind, until they heard the word no.
Bilba shook her head. She was reading too much into it, working herself up over something that probably wasn’t even what she thought. He’d probably wanted to talk about something innocuous and, even if it had been that, there was no reason to believe he’d turn into a monster if…when, she rejected him.
“Please don’t a monster,” she whispered out loud.
The kitty grumbled against her stomach, and Bilba settled against the pillow, hoping sleep would find her sooner or later.
Maybe she could try talking to him? Not about that per se but just…about…stuff? She’d talked to Bofur all the time, and she missed it.
She’d think about it.
Maybe she’d just solve the problem by ignoring it all together and hoping it went away.
It had never worked before but there was always a first time.
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Inheritance Cycle (Eragon) & Lord of the Rings Crossover
Summary: Vilansia and her dragon, Svellevarina, have spent many years training the young dragon riders alongside Eragon and Saphira. But their time of adventure has come. The people of Middle Earth have called for aid and Alagaesia will answer.
Chapter 2: Wyrda
The oranges and pinks burst over the treetops as the light blue of the daytime sky spread. On any other day, most would still be asleep, not yet ready to start their day. This morning, however, Elves were bustling around the Great Hall not far from my own home. A gentle breeze hushed through the large opening of my home, the sound of rustling leaves outside carried with it. The tree in which my home was built was taller than most others surrounding it in order to accommodate my dragon. The opening was wider than her wing-span and significantly taller, allowing for growing room over the next few years. The room itself was also large and open. While the wooden interior of the tree had been sanded down prior to the two of us settling in, the rubbing of Svell's hard scales has carved grooves into the floor with scratches from her talons interlaced throughout. The room felt emptier than usual, as the majority of my belongings had been packed away for travel. An unfamiliar tightness resided in my gut. It was a matter of minutes before Svellevarina and I would be leaving our home country for the first time. I could feel waves of Svell's excitement through our bond and I hated to dampen her mood with my uncertainty. There was no doubt that the task before us was daunting. My intuition was telling me that we were to become involved in something much bigger than originally thought and I knew better than to ignore that.
I tightened the last strap on one of the many saddlebags, ensuring that they were all secure for the flight to Middle Earth.
The sound of sliding scales against the wooden floor broke the silence as Svellevarina shifted to face me. "We best be off to meet with Arya Drotting,"
I nodded in response, heaving the saddle into my arms and carrying it up onto the back of my dragon. She licked her talons clean with her barbed tongue as she waited for me to secure the saddle comfortably. I climbed back down, surveying the room one last time.
Svell nudged my back gently with her snout. "Come now,"
With a sigh, I placed myself in the saddle and held on to the neck spike in front of me as Svellevarina stood, making her way to the large window. A slight breeze shifted my long hair as Svell spread her wings out, the very tips just touching the edges of the opening. Svellevarina jumped, the air catching under her wings and carrying us over the tops of the surrounding trees. She angled toward the left as she soared, the wind carrying the fresh scents of the early morning.
A crowd had already gathered outside of the Great Hall. The chatter from the surrounding Elves coming to a halt as Svellevarina landed. I slid out of the saddle just as Arya Dröttning approached, Eragon by her side.
The Queen looked between Svellevarina and I, her lips drawn tight. "Come. Eragon and I have something prepared for you both."
I raised my brows in question before glancing at Svellevarina. Her shoulders shifted in a dragon form of a shrug. The two of us followed the elder riders inside the Hall, leaving the growing crowd of Elves. The Great Hall was built inside the largest tree in Ellesmera which created a grand and open space. The inside wood of the tree was smoothed to perfection from the magic of the Elves that created the Hall. A throne of roots and vines rested on a step on the opposite end of the door. Normally, that would be the only furniture that resided within, however, a round table sat between us and the organic throne. Both Firnen and Saphira were resting next to each other, waiting for us. I could see a few things set upon the table, the natural light from the openings in the tree catching the light off of something.
"Never before has a dragon and rider acted as an ambassador in another country," Arya said, speaking in the ancient language. "As such, I cannot tell you what to expect. I can, however, give you the tools that you will need so that you are as well prepared as possible." She gestured to the table before us.
I walked forward, taking in what was laid out. My eyes widened at what I saw. Turning to Arya, I said: "Dröttning, this is all too much, I cannot possibly-"
She held up a hand. "You must, Vilansia."
I faced the table again, my hands reaching for the sparkling opal blade. It was unmarked, as it was yet to be named, but it was unmistakably a rider blade, the hue a perfect match of Svellevarina's scales. I held up the sword to the light, reflecting tiny rainbows on the surrounding wooden walls. The blade was long, matching my reach perfectly, but was thick enough to allow me to execute parries without fear of the weapon breaking. The end of the hilt bore a rounded opal that would serve as a storage of energy if Svell and I should need.
"It's beautiful," I said breathlessly.
"Well of course," Svellevarina said as she lifted her head high. "They had a perfect example to follow,"
I caught Eragon's smile at her remark. "Now you must come up with a name to match its elegance."
I knew instantly what I would name my rider blade, as did Svell. While we had known that it was unlikely that I would receive such a symbolic weapon, I had discussed this with her for many years after we had graduated our training. Since Svellevarina and I did not travel outside of the Island or Du Weldenvarden due to our duty of training the young riders, such an important blade was not necessary. But as new representatives of Alagaesia it was only proper that I should now wield a rider blade.
I faced my dragon, lowering the hilt to my chest, the sharp tip pointed at the ceiling. Svell lowered her head and gently rested the top of her snout against the flat side of the sword. Together, we named the weapon. "Wyrda."
The blade began to glow just above the hilt and the ancient language symbol for fate was now forever etched into it.
Saphira hummed. "It suits you,"
I traced the mark with my fingertips before I carefully placed the blade within its sheath.
The queen rested a hand on my shoulder, drawing my attention back to the table. "While I felt that a rider blade was of great importance for you to have on this quest, Eragon made an excellent point in that the current saddle that you possess would not be suitable for what lies ahead." She walked forward with me as she gestured to the black rider saddle.
"I based the design off of the one that I had used years ago during the fight against Galbitorix," Eragon informed Svellevarina and I. "With a few modern modifications, this saddle can be used for travel and battle. The satchels are removable, and these leg straps can be undone instantly with this snap here." He paused to face Svellevarina. "I had Saphira's help in making it as comfortable for you as possible. The underside is made to glide along your scales as smoothly as possible without chaffing."
"Thank you, Eragon-elda," Svellevarina replied, bowing her head.
I ran my hands against the saddle. It was incredibly smooth, the edges were sewn tightly and with great precision. I especially liked that Eragon had chosen black for the saddle, as it would contrast with Svell's scales flawlessly.
"We are both incredibly honored by these gifts...thank you, all of you. Svellevarina and I will carry them well," I spoke to everyone, my smile wide with gratitude. Arya's eyes were bright as she returned the smile.
"Alas, there is one more thing before you both take your leave of Alagaesia," Firnen added, his low voice rumbling in our minds. My eyes fell to the large pouch that remained on the table. The material matched the saddle, suggesting that they could be easily attached. I stepped around the table to the pouches and opened the one closest to me. What rested inside glinted as the sunlight hit it. As I pulled to object out I realized that it was a piece of armour, the metal carrying the green hue of Ellesmera. It was a shoulder plate that I held, the designs of my people etched into it. I placed the shoulder plate with the rest of my armour.
"I will wear the armour of Ellesmera with pride. Thank you," I said, my chin lifted.
"Come, we mustn't tarry any longer," Saphira said. "There is a long journey ahead of you,"
With Eragon's help, I replaced Svelllevarina's old saddle for the brand new one, securing our bags and satchels on tightly. It fit her perfectly. The rider blade bounced against my left thigh as I moved, with each movement reminding me of the fact that my dream weapon was now in my possession.
"It is time, Vilansia," Eragon said gently. He handed me a scroll and as I glanced at the parchment I saw the drawings of a map. The Queen must have drawn what she could based upon the information this Gandalf had given her. I bowed in silence before climbing up Svell's legs and settling in the saddle. I did up the leg straps loosely, as they were only really necessary for flying during a fight. The two elder riders mounted their dragons as well. Firnen led the rest of us through the Great Hall doors, and we were all met with cheers from the large crowd of Elves that had accumulated during our meeting. I caught words of "farewell" and "safe travels" from them as the dragons stood on the large wooden steps leading up to the Hall.
I looked amongst the crowd, searching for a familiar face but did not find it. Svellevarina shifted under me as she heard my thoughts. "Murtagh and Thorn will be here. Give them time, you know how they are with large groups of people," I rested a hand on the side of her neck in acknowledgment, but a part of me still worried that I would not get a chance to say goodbye to them.
"Svellevarina Bleikr-skul and Vilansia Shur'tugal, as you depart from Alagaesia I send you with my blessing," Arya Dröttning said, her voice loud enough to carry over the crowd. "Not only do you represent the Elves of Du Weldenvarden, but you represent the dragon riders of Alagaesia as well. Do not forget that." She paused as Firnen took over.
"Your duty as peacekeepers here shall carry over to Middle Earth. Do what you must to ensure the safety of their people. Fight strong."
"We will not forget your words, Arya Dröttning and Firnen-elda. Elrun ono," I said.
"You both know what you are capable of," Eragon spoke now. "You have the strength and the wisdom to see this mission through. However, you must have a balance of both in order to be successful. Without strength, you will be overpowered and without wisdom, you will become ignorant to what needs to be done. The two of you make a perfect pair as you balance the other, but do not let that work against you. If you let it, that balance will lead you to success in whatever you take on as you are a connected pair, dragon and rider, partners of the heart, mind, and soul."
Saphira nudged Svellevarina gently as the elder dragon hummed. "A fire grows in you, Bleikr-skul. Tend to it and it will become a force that guides you. Protect your rider. Protect the innocent. I speak for us all when I say that I have the utmost faith in you. May the wind guide your wings as you travel, and may your fangs stay sharp." She turned her head to face me. "Wear the armour of your people as Svellevarina wears her scales with pride. Keep your blade sharp and your mind even sharper. Remember your training here, Eragon and I have given you all the skills that you may need to do what must be done."
"Erun ono, Eragon-vodhr and Saphira Bjartskular. We are honored to have been under your tutelage and will carry your teachings with us forever," Svellevarina replied.
Saphira let out a gentle growl. "Now go! Middle Earth awaits you!"
I reached down and pulled my rider blade from its' sheath and held it above my head, the sunlight dancing along the blade, reflecting on the surfaces around us. Svellevarina spread her wings as I did and roared, causing the trees to shake as it resounded through the forest around us. The crowd of Elves cheered in admiration.
I returned my blade to its' place and grabbed hold of the neck spike in front of me. Svellevarina crouched before jumping forward into the air, her wings pumping to catch the air under her. She gained altitude quickly, and below us, the cheers turned into song, the music of my people carried on the breeze. I turned back to gain one last look at the capital city of the Elvish country, my home. The bright blue and green of Saphira and Firnen grew smaller until the tops of the surrounding trees covered my line of sight.
A snarl drew my attention away from Ellesmera as my gaze snapped forward. Svell flared her wings, coming to a stop before she angled her wings to hold us in place. A flash of red shot overhead of us, then came back around to face us.
"Thorn! Murtagh!" I exclaimed. "And I was beginning to think that you wouldn't see us off,"
Murtagh chuckled. "I would never forgive myself if I didn't come to say goodbye,"
"Neither would we," Svellevarina added. Thorn flicked his tail playfully.
"In any case, it brings me joy to be able to see the two of you before we leave," I said.
"Tell me, why did Eragon choose you to go?" Murtagh asked after a moment.
"It was my suggestion," Svellevarina replied. "After all, we were the best choice. Everyone else agreed,"
"You needn't worry, my friend," I added, trying to reassure him.
"I am aware that you both have been asked to do all you can to see this mission through, but remember to keep yourselves safe as well. We want to see you two return when all is said and done," Thorn said. Their minds were left open to Svell and me, something that we became comfortable with over time. It made communication easier between the four of us, especially since humans had a different way of expressing emotions than Elves did. It was at this moment that I felt their concern and dread at our departure.
"While I cannot, and will not, make false promises to either of you, I can assure you that Eragon and Saphira would not have sent us if they did not believe we were capable," I said to them before Svellevarina added: "Much time will pass before you see us again. Listen for my wingbeats and you will know that we have returned safely,"
Thorn hummed and I felt a small portion of their worry fade. Murtagh shifted in the saddle. "I know it is not my place to ask this of you, but if I may, would you do us a favour while you are in Middle Earth?"
Puzzled, I hesitated. It was not lightly that either of them asked for a favour of any kind, as their independence remained an unwavering trait of theirs. Even with his mind open to me, I could not discern what exactly he was thinking. I only felt disquiet.
"What is it you are asking?"
"When you have the chance, I ask that you scry Thorn and I so that we may remain in contact while you are away. And, though I hate to speak on my half-brother's behalf, I know that both he and Queen Arya would be grateful to hear from you as well,"
I offered a smile and Svell gently bumped her snout against Thorn's neck. I spoke in the Ancient Language now, signaling to them that I was making a sincere promise. "Of course. Svell and I will scry you when we are able. You needn't consider that a favour, I would be happy to,"
"Thank you, Vi,"
"We must continue on our way. It is a long way to travel within a short amount of time," Svellevarina said softly.
Thorn snorted, a puff of smoke released from his nostrils. "Fly fast, Svell. I will wait for your return,"
"Stay out of trouble until I do!" Svellevarina replied with a small growl. With a push of her wings, she launched forward. I turned in the saddle, holding my hand high as a way of farewell. A wave of desolation washed over me and my hand fell to my lap. For the first time since we became close friends, I had to close my mind to Murtagh. The emotions were powerful, the level of which was something I was not used to. I would not allow myself to be inflicted this way, not now.
"I did not realize our departure would cause so much sadness," I said to Svell.
"They care for us," Svell replied simply. "It pains them to not be at our side ensuring our safety,"
"We have never needed their help like that before. I had thought they had more faith in us than that!" My hands clenched slightly. Did they not believe in us? Did they think we were doomed to failure?
"You know as well as I that that is not true. They believe in us, they always have. I think they are just...protective,"
"I know, Svell. I just wish they knew that they did not have to be,"
"You know they act of their own accord. Besides, is their protection such a bad thing?"
"Perhaps not. Though, was it from anyone else I might be so tolerant,"
Svellevarina's sides shook as she chuckled. "In a sense, you have to be. They are breoal, after all,"
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desire (eomer x reader)
(not my gif)
summary: reader is a stable-hand, and catches the soldier's attention
requested by: @laurfilijames and @linasofia
a.n: so i got a couple of similar requests, so i hope you don't mind that i combined them :) you can tell i have never ridden a horse in my life :)
"Easy there, easy," you said gently, carefully running your brush over the horse's mane. "It's alright." Talking to the horses, you had found, had always been the best way for you to keep them calm, especially after the amount of battles some of them had seen. The horse in question was Hasufel, a strong, chestnut mare, and you had been instructed by your superior to take as best care of it as you could. The horse belonged to the King's nephew, and though you had never met the man before, you knew that it would be your head for the block lest anything happen to the animal.
Of course, it would not, as for many a year you had been regarded as the best trainer in Rohan, widely respected: none other would they trust with the Lord of the Mark's steed.
"Come on now," you said, brushing your hand upon the animal's coat. "Very handsome; let's see what you can do."
Placing your brush to one side, you gave one final touch to the horse's side before swinging yourself up to mount the saddle. It would be a lie to say you didn't feel an instant connection with the animal, feeling the muscular form beneath you. Hasufel had seen a many a war, and yet here you were, a humble horse trainer sitting astride it.
With a small pat to its left side, you led the horse out of the stable, and onto your field for training. You began with a simple walk, then progressing, all the while making sure you were in complete control of him. Half way through one of the more complex areas, you realised that you had an audience. Deciding it would be better to just carry on - and not taking notice of who it was that was watching you - you finished up your training for that day. Only then did you see him.
Just just a few paces off from where you brought Hasufel to a halt, stood Eomer, brother-son to King Theoden. Despite your initial surprise, you did not allow his presence to faze you, and smoothly dismounted before leading the horse back over to its paddock.
"You must be (Y/N)," Eomer called, following you. He watched you closely as you locked up the door.
"Yes," you answered simply. Giving your dress a quick wipe down, you turned away from him, moving to run your hand across the nose of one of the other horses, a dark grey mare.
"That is my horse that you were riding," he continued.
"Yes, sir, I have been informed." Again you carried on with your business, using it partly as an opportunity to hide your grin from him.
Eomer seemed a little intimidated by your disinterest, considering most of the other workers would have immediately bent the knee at his arrival, whereas all you gave him was a slight curtsy. "I am impressed with how you handled him. Sometimes he is not even that calm with me, and I have had him for many years now."
"It is my job, my Lord," you replied, "if I was not good at it, I would not keep it for very long."
Now you truly had his interest, and the subtle attitude and defiance in your voice caught him off guard. Only now did you finally turn around and face him, patting your hands together so as to remove some of the dust that lingered there.
"I had not expected you to be-" He began, though his words caught slightly, and he noted it had been the first time in many a year that he had been lost for words.
"A woman?" you finished, crossing your arms over your chest.
"Beautiful," he corrected, eyes scanning you over. A short laugh came from you; you - standing in nought but the rags you wore whilst training: you couldn't quite believe he had said such a thing.
"Looks are not important when training horses."
"No, but it helps," he said with a smug grin. You couldn't help the slight eye roll that you gave in response, though you would be lying if you said there wasn't an attraction on your part. Ridiculous, you thought to yourself, he was the king's nephew, one day to be king himself, after the passing of Theodred.
"What would your uncle think of you, down here with the horse trainer?" You chuckled to yourself, putting away one of your brushes. "Careful: you might get that nice tunic of yours dirty."
Eomer's eyes widened slightly in disbelief. No-one had ever spoken to him like this, yet here you were, a simple stable-hand making a mock of him. Had it not been for the devious grin that held your expression he may have scorned you for that remark, but your playful nature intrigued him.
"You are quite the woman, (Y/N)."
"Last I checked, yes my Lord." No more hiding: you faced him directly, and though you had to crane your neck slightly, it was the soldier who felt intimidated.
"Why horses?" he asked, voice low and questioning.
You gave a small shrug. "They are magnificent beasts, powerful yet elegant, and I have not encountered an animal alike in that respect. With a horse comes freedom."
"Is that what you desire, (Y/N)?" Eomer took another step closer, almost so that you could feel his breath feathering out across your face. "Do you desire freedom?"
"I am free." Your eyes quickly scanned over his face, noting the darkening of his gaze as he surveyed you. "I only desire that which I do not have, my Lord."
"As do I," Eomer replied, voice now but a mumble. There was a slight pause, before once again that smile came to your face, and without giving him time to react, you turned and moved to put away your equipment.
"Hasufel may need a few more sessions, but there isn't much work to do. He is a very intelligent animal - much more so than some of the ones that are brought to me," you remarked absentmindely. Just as you turned to exit the stable, Eomer reached out and caught your arm.
"Perhaps I will come to see you again tomorrow?" he said with a slight questioning tone.
You hesitated, and then, smiling, "Eomer, Lord of the Mark, nephew to King Theoden, asking my permission? Are you not allowed to come and go as you please?"
He was stunned, and with a swift curtsy, you left him as such.
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a thousand times (eomer x reader)
(not my gif)
requested by: @tolkien-fantasy
summary: the reader gives eomer a few lessons in reading and writing, but the soldier appears dead set in his ways
a.n: second of the eomer fics! there's a few more to come with maybe another pairing in between, but since he is in such demand i'll probably get these posted first. thank you for requesting :)
"I fail to see how words on paper will serve me during battle," Eomer sighed, leaning back in his chair, arms firmly folded across his chest.
This, you were beginning to think, was hopeless.
For the past hour or so, at his own request, you had attempted to educate your husband in the ways of reading and writing. The armies of Rohan had always passed down their history through songs and spoken word, yet when the Lord of the Mark had spied you caught up in a book, he suddenly became interested. Ever since you were a child, you had loved losing yourself in the tales of old that your ancestors had recorded; sharing that gift with your husband had seemed like a great opportunity.
Only now his stubbornness was beginning to shine through. Though you loved him for it, the man nearly had you pulling your hair from your head.
"Do not pretend that writing has no place in war," you said, almost smugly. Eomer cocked an eyebrow, as if saying 'you believe you know more about war than I?'. "Wars are often started by writing. Small pieces of paper that fall into the wrong hands. Imagine your enemy handed you a surrender written: you would not be able to read it."
"That is yet to happen, my love."
"But that does not mean it never will. Now will you please try again?" you pleaded, reaching your hand across to grasp his as it lay rested upon the large volume you had brought out.
"For me?" Casting his gaze to yours, you gave him your best pout, and even he knew that he was unable to resist your charm.
"Alright, for you," he mumbled. Once again, he shifted slightly in his seat and glanced down at the pages in front of him. Most of it seemed like nonsense, just scribbles on page after page of aged paper. Eomer gave his dirty-blonde hair a slight scratch, before moving to rest his chin upon his palm.
"This is one of my favourites," you said with a smile. "It is the tale of Beren and Lúthien, the lovers." You looked down at the ancient text, lovingly running your fingers along the lines. It had been hard to get your hands on a copy of it, since within Rohan there was little time for reading, but through a chain of requests, it had found its way to you. "My mother used to read it to me when I was a child."
"You expect me to read a child's book?" Eomer questioned, suddenly seeming offended.
You paused slightly, rather distraught as his dark brows furrowed. "No, I just-"
"I may not be able to read some stupid fairytale, but I am far from a child, (Y/N), and I cannot believe you would think of me as such."
His words pained you, and it was no use trying to convince him of your true intentions. Without another word, he gathered his sword and helmet, and swiftly exited the room.
"I just wanted to help," you whispered to yourself. With great haste, you slammed shut the cover of the book, so as to make certain your tears would not stain the paper. You wiped your eyes, though remained in the library, ruminating on the interaction.
Days passed, and you did your best to avoid your husband, despite his efforts to catch your attention. Eomer seemed not to realise how deeply he had wounded you, that perhaps he should not speak to you as forcefully as he spoke to his fellow soldiers. Most of your hours were spent tending to your duties, seeking them wherever you could find them, be it aiding the carers of the sick, or working away at a piece of needlework. Your only want was to distance yourself from him.
After three days or so, your husband began to realise the error of his ways, and knew he had to put his own pride and stubbornness aside if he wanted to rectify his behaviour. So Eomer hatched a plan of his own in order to restore your relationship, and hopefully to brighten your dampened spirits.
One evening, you were seated by your desk, stitching away at a blanket you had been working on amidst your frustration, when a knock rapped upon the door. You gave no admittance, but when it opened regardless, you knew your husband was present.
"Eomer, I don't want-" You began, but he quickly interrupted you.
"Among the tales of sorrow and of ruin that come down to us from the darkness of those days, there are yet some which amid weeping there is joy, and under the shadow of death light that endures."
Your ears pricked up at the familiar words, and you set aside your craft to look upon him. Adorned in his best armour, Eomer stood in the doorway, leaning against the frame, holding in one hand your book, and with the other ran his hand along the lines. His words came out slowly, but you couldn't help the sweet smile that came to your features upon admiring his deep concentration. "And of these histories, most fair still in the ears of the Elves is the tale of Beren and Lúthien."
Seeing his struggle, you rose from your seating and strode over to him, carefully closing the book.
"You learned all that for me?" you asked, reaching out to caress his coarse beard.
He gave a small shrug, though you could see his elation at your touch.
"I'm very impressed," you continued, and placed a gentle kiss to his cheek.
"You should be impressed," he grumbled, though you could tell his mask was slipping once he had shut the door. "I had to sacrifice my pride and ask the mad, old woman who polishes my armour for help. She was happy to oblige, though I do not wish to know what she hoped to gain from it."
"Oh no," you chuckled, "I hope someone isn't trying to steal my husband away from me."
Brow cocking, Eomer leaned down to your height, and in one swift movement raised you from the floor, holding you as he did on your wedding night. "Have no fear, fair maiden, I shall protect you."
"You have my thanks, brave sir." You swung both of your arms around his neck, pulling his lips down to press upon yours. Soft was his embrace, contrasting the cool feeling of his armour through your dress. "Are you going to finish the story?"
"Oh, (Y/N), you must have heard it a thousand times before," he mumbled, preoccupied with dotting kisses about your jaw, eliciting a laugh at the tickle of his beard. You pulled away, again displaying your best puppy-eyes. With a sigh, he pressed his forehead to yours, "And I shall read it to you a thousand more."
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I've decided I'm going to write little prompts/lines for LOTR/TH that others can use. I don't know if anyone will be keen but I thought it would be cool to see how different authors use them. If you do choose to use them then please tag where it came from or just reblog and write under that. Cheers :)
(I don't mind if people change them slightly to make them fit in their story)
"Look at my hair Aragorn. I certainly didn't get it this soft by leaving it caked in the blood of my enemies" Legolas sassed.
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FATE UPDATE: [Legolas/OC]
Chapter One — That’s Not How You Talk to the Recruits!
Is now officially posted!!!!
Here is the wattpad link in you prefer
Also! This is a sequel!! So read TLLOTS first haha!
TLLOTS/FATE Tag List: @bathewithsatan @wanderingmerlin @elvish-sky @ellies-iced-coffee @ladymidnight77 @lady-latte @pumpkin-queen-666 ? @angelxnaa
Just LMK if you want to be added to the tag list!
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Cover for From Ashes to Embers (FATE)
in celebration of finally publishing the first chapter of the sequel, here is some cover art!
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From Ashes to Embers (FATE)
Links: AO3 | Wattpad
A.N: here it is! The sequel to The Last Light of the Star! Thank you all so much for being so supportive of this fic and all my other works.
Summary: This fanfiction follows the ending events of TLLOTS. After the Prymafire, things seem to be going smoothly in times of peace. However, that does not last long, something is brewing in Dol Guldur.
Total Word Count: N/A
Warnings: violence, mentions of death, depression, anxiety, angst, fluff, occasional light smut, burning people alive, burning people dead, etc.
Arryin Concept Art | TLLOTS All Characters Concept Art | FATE Cover Art
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brave (eomer x reader)
(not my gif)
requested by: @shethereadinghobbit
summary: eomer teases the reader after she has a little too much to drink
warnings: alchol mention (?), just general flirting, minor cursing while drunk
a.n: okay so thank you all for requesting, i've got a couple more eomer fics coming and honestly i'm so excited thank you guys so much
"I thought you were a man of Rohan, and yet you're sick off a few pints? Don't make me laugh!" you joked, slamming your tankard onto the table. After a ten or so minute competition between yourself and the man now half-asleep across from you, you had proven yourself a much worthier drinker. What respect this gained you, you did not know, yet the men surrounding you - who all seemed to have taken great interest in the game - began a great uproar of applause. Before you knew what was happening, a few of the soldiers behind you hoisted you up onto their shoulders, cheering your name as they carried you about the tavern.
Some song was taken up, and you managed to join in, though never remembering learning the words. You were heavily intoxicated, but of course, you could not allow them to realise this, otherwise your whole persona would fall apart, and those few gold coins you had just won may have found themselves in jeopardy.
Luckily for your stomach, they did not keep you in the air long, and soon enough you were placed back down at the closest table they could find. Another pint of ale was placed down in front of you, and your hand immediately found its way to it.
Just as you were about to raise it to your mouth, another hand rested itself upon your shoulder. Had you been on guard, you would have jumped in fright, perhaps making a move to defend yourself; however, in your current state, the eye of Sauron could have been boring into you, and you would have still made a merriment of it.
"Perhaps, my Lady, you may want to slow down a little bit," the voice came from behind. Only when it moved to sit beside you did you realise you were in the presence of Eomer, Lord of the Mark. Sober, you may have bent the knee, but all you found yourself doing was letting out the most ridiculous laugh, nearly collapsing into his lap in your inebriation.
"Oh come on!" you half-yelled. "None of that, my Lady shit. We are drinking: alcohol has no ranks."
A smug grin came to the captain's face as he observed your near-bumbling state, and he too joined in with your laughter. "Perhaps you are right. (Y/N) it is then."
"And you are..." you trailed off, finally getting that sip of ale.
Eomer shook his head slightly in disbelief, and too took a drink. "Eomer, do you not remember my face?"
"I don't remember very much, Eomer, and I'm sure I would be able to recall a face as handsome as yours." Again the giggling. Thankfully, Eomer seemed to find it rather endearing, even going so far as to shuffle his seat a little closer to your own so that your legs were practically touching.
"Maybe you have not seen it enough without a helmet."
"Oh no, no-" and before you knew what you were doing, you reached your hands across to cup both of his cheeks. "You should not cover such a nice face with a helmet."
He let out a low chuckle and moved his hand to rest against your knee, rubbing his finger ever so subtly over the material of your dress. "I am glad you are not of our army, (Y/N), I would hate to dream of covering your face. Such striking eyes." Upon that remark, you turned as red as a wine glass, and half turned your face away so as to not be affected any further by his darkening gaze.
Then you saw it. Resting just to his left, Eomer's helmet sat; and seizing the opportunity, you swiftly lunged forward whilst his attention was occupied with your leg to snatch it. You rose to your feet in an instant, moving to stand on your stool, and clutching the helmet close to your chest.
"I've always wanted to wear one of these." Eomer's eyes were fixed on your feet, watching as you swayed ever so slightly upon that small area of chair. Regardless, you did not care, and quickly placed the helmet on. It was a very large fit for you, but anyway, you put your hands and your hips, attempting to look as desirable as possible, though in your stupor it looked rather comical. Eomer would have found it endearing, had he not been more concerned about you falling and breaking your neck.
"How do I look?" you slurred, and by now you had caught the attention of some of the other soldiers.
"Stunning, now would you please come down from that chair?"
"Maybe I will," you giggled, moving to bite your nail, "maybe I won't."
A few whistles sounded from behind you, and Eomer pulled a rather cocky expression, crossing his arms loosely across his chest. "I'm going to count to three, and then you're going to get down. One-"
"Ooh, am I in trouble?" you slurred, raising your hands up. This was not a good idea, and you suddenly realised that you had worsened your balance.
Eomer was playing to the crowd, and shot a quick smile to his fellow soldiers, therefore briefly taking his attention from you. "Two..."
But you were already beginning to stumble, and some of the men closer to you began to say your name; it fell on deaf ears, and before you had time to stop yourself, you were tilting forward. Being such an experienced soldier as he was, Eomer's reactions were very well developed, and just before you were able to crack your head from the floor, he lunged forward, catching you with a firm grip.
You could only laugh at the dizziness that enveloped you, reaching up to run your finger along Eomer's suddenly sober expression.
"You nearly died," he near-whispered, carefully removing his helmet from you. Laughing as you had been for the entire night, you quickly took a hold of the back of his head, gathering a handful of blonde hair, and pulled it down to your own. You pressed your lips against his before he had time to protest, and just as speedily, you pulled away again.
Eomer was completely dumbfounded. It took a moment for him to register what had just happened, considering his status, nobody had ever had the audacity to do such a thing.
"What was that for?" he asked.
You shrugged, still laying in his arms. "For saving me, brave sir."
Smiling his half-grin once again, Eomer (less forcefully than you had) brought his forehead to rest against your own, before leaning down to replace his lips onto your own. You felt time slow, and for the first time that night, you were fully aware of your surroundings. Slinging an arm up to wrap around his neck, you pulled him even closer, deepening the kiss; in response, as was custom, the spectating soldiere brought up a loud cheer, again whistling.
Neither of you noticed, eyes sliding shut as you pressed yourself flush against him. Once you finally came up for air, that blush returned to you, and he was once more his smug self that had initially enticed you.
"You're quite the woman, (Y/N)," he muttered just for you to hear, moving you upward to sit on his knee.
"Do you say that to all of the ladies?"
Eomer shook his head slightly, reaching a coarse hand out to push a strand of hair behind your ear. "Just the ones who take my armour from me. Most of the men in this room would not be so brave."
You grinned, placing a soft kiss upon his temple, before resting your chin to his shoulder. "Oh I'm incredibly brave."
"And you're incredibly drunk."
"Drunk and brave," you muttered close to his ear. Eomer turned his head to the side, scanning all your features entirely. Had it not been for the striking up of the band, he truly could have watched you all night, never tiring of the sight of you.
However, in your state, your attention span was completely diminished, and you snapped out of your trance. "Oh, this is my favourite song-" which was the third time you had said this that night. "Come and dance with me!"
"Oh no," Eomer laughed, glancing about at the company around him, most of whom were his men. "I'm not really one for dancing."
"Everyone likes dancing, don't be so sour. Come on!" You were already standing up from his lap, tugging on his hand to get him to stand.
"Fine: if you won't dance with me, I'll just get one of the other men to. I am sure none of them would have any objections."
And almost immediately, Eomer was on his feet, much to your pleasure, following your lead as you began to find the beat. All thoughts of the spectators evaporated, and for the rest of the night, he was yours completely.
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[ID: A digital drawing of Miles Edgeworth and Phoenix Wright from ace attorney. They are drawn from the chest up looking towards each other, leaving their sides visible to the viewer. Phoenix's right-hand rests on Edgeworth's shoulder reassuringly while Edgeworth clutches his right sleeve with his left hand. There is a tear forming in his eye and he is frowning slightly. Phoenix is smiling gently at him. Outlines of colourful confetti fall around them on top of a grey background. The words 'Not Guilty are written in caps above their heads. The next two images are zoom-ins of Miles and Phoenix's faces respectively.]
So uh. I got very obsessed with Ace attorney. These funky gay lawyers mean a lot to me man.
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does anyone have any eomer requests because i really want to write something for him but i'm not sure what? thank you guys xx
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Glorestor fic recs
Fic rec list for @nolessjessisamess who requested Glorestor! I’m sorry it took so long to post D:
Five times Erestor said no to Glorfindel (and the one time he didn’t) by Kalypsobean
That day we talked about bondmates by Ulan
Thousand Years by Ulan
Glorfindel and Erestor and some shenanigans by Raiyana
Baser Things by epkitty
Rinse by Yeaka
Title by Yeaka
Tipping Point by Ulan
The Gates of Summer by Life_giver (heh heh pimping myself so sorry)
As a side note, please browse through these author’s libraries because they have many more great stories. Some of their libraries are quite extensive :) I just picked out my favorites here! This was one of my first lotr ships so I’ve lost quite a bit of my favorite fics over the years, many of which were on sites that no longer exist haha And as usual, please leave recs if you have any!
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Double Heart | Chapter Twenty-Four ~ Cosima
Pairing: Haldir x OFC
Word count: 2609
A/n My new update “day” I think is Wednesday or Thursday or Friday, haha. Consistency has left the building during this crazy month of June! Thanks for reading :)
The days become a blur. Somehow, despite their pace and their load, the horses never seem to tire, running towards Lothlórien’s borders as if they know the urgency of our situation. Faervel keeps Haldir and I at the front of the group, but Rumil and Baranor’s horses right on our tails. My head dips down, the exhaustion of riding for two days straight threatening to knock me out.
Haldir shifts and, before I know it, he’s moved to settle behind me, pushing me forward on Faervel’s back. He grips the reins and extends his arms, creating a sort of cage.
His voice comes low near my ear. “Sleep. It is not good for you to be awake this long.”
I shake my head, though my eyes are already sliding shut against my will.
“No,” I mumble, voice slurred with exhaustion. “If you’re awake, I should be, too. I can at least watch out for…” My words trail off as my head taps against Haldir’s chest.
“Melethril, this is what I am trained to do. I can stay awake and keep watch. Humans need their rest, go to sleep.”
And, before he can speak another word, my body decides for me. I slump against him, tumbling into unconsciousness.
We make only the briefest of stops. By our third day of nearly straight-through travel, even the horses and elves—who clearly have otherworldly stamina—show the first signs of fatigue.
Alex and I are absolutely exhausted.
My whole body hurts and I sway with the lack of sleep. Never in my life have I felt so awful. I want to cry and pass out and yell at everyone around me, but I don’t have the energy. I also know that none of those avenues would help. Haldir’s weighed the risks — evidently, it is safer to push our limits like this than to travel in the open with Sauron’s soldiers on the move.
Haldir regards me from the river, somehow having the energy to refill our canteens and stand guard. At the top of the hill, Rumil and Baranor speedily tend to the horses. Alex lies on the ground, curled into a ball as he sleeps.
Haldir purses his lips, the regret plain in his eyes. “I am sorry, melethril. I would not do this if there were a better option.”
“No, it’s fine,” I murmur, dragging some of the cool water up my legs and splashing it on my face. It helps a little. “We’ll be there soon.”
“Sixteen hours,” he confirms, nodding gravely.
I fight the urge to visibly react. How are we still so far away? I shake the thought from my head. It doesn’t matter. I can only focus on what’s in front of me. I turn my attention on Haldir. “Are you sure you’re okay? You, Rumil, Baranor — you haven’t slept at all.”
He hands me the refilled canteens, exchanging them for the empty ones. “I promise you, we are fine. Tired, yes, but we can manage. Elves are made differently than humans — rest is not as strong a need. And Rumil and I have been awake longer than this before, as part of our training.”
I raise my eyebrows, using this brief break to eat some lembas. “What’s your record?”
Haldir grins, splashing water onto his face, the droplets falling down his neck. “Thirteen days.”
He nods, seeming quite proud of this. “I was nearly sick by the end of it, but I still made it.”
Feeling much better with the lembas in my stomach, I stand, joining Haldir in the water. He opens his arms, pressing a kiss to my temple and handing me another refilled canteen.
“Once we get to Lothlórien, I think I’ll sleep for thirteen days,” I joke, to which he grins.
And, the second the canteens are refilled, horses watered, and lembas consumed, we are back on the road.
There are no markers, but I can tell when we enter Lothlórien’s territory.
Behind me, Haldir relaxes, shoulders falling and hands slackening on the reins. Rumil breathes out a sigh of relief and Baranor grins, nudging Alex awake.
I sit up straighter, turning my head around. It’s late at night, too dark for me to see much, but what I can make out is no different from what I’ve seen for the past ten hours — heavy forest. A figure drops from the trees to land in front of us, and I suck in a sharp breath and press against Haldir, too tired to manage a scream. But Haldir merely places the reins in my hands and slides off the horses calmly, not drawing his weapon. I relax.
“Mae govannen, Marchwarden,” comes a deep voice I do not recognize.
Haldir returns the greeting and the two engage in a fast-paced conversation in Sindarin. My exhaustion and limited understanding of the language do not help my comprehension, but I recognize my name, Alex’s, Orophin’s, and Lavandil’s, and guess that Haldir is updating this person on the changes in our company.
A hand appears in my peripheral and I gasp, meeting the large, round, green eyes of an elleth I do not know.
“Off,” she commands in a strong, accented voice. I put the pieces together — she wants me to get off the horse. I take her offered hand and slide from Faervel’s back, the distance seeming much further in the darkness.
The elleth regards me curiously, her eyes alight even in the dark. Her inspection doubles when Alex walks up beside me, stumbling in his exhaustion. I throw an arm around him, helping hold him up. I glance around, trying to see things in this encompassing darkness. We have reached the borders of Lothlórien, yes, but there seems to be no civilization. Didn’t Haldir say there was a city?
The elleth darts in front of me, grabbing Faervel’s reins and reaching a hand for Roch’s. Once he is free of his horse, Rumil appears on Alex’s other side, wrapping an arm around him and taking the weight off me.
“Thanks,” I mutter.
He gives no response.
Haldir’s conversation comes to an end and he joins us, Baranor coming up behind.
“We are still a few days’ travel from Caras Galadon,” Haldir explains, “but we are within the security of Lothlórien’s borders. We will rest here for the night.”
I nod, body singing at the thought of stretching out on my bedroll and getting some proper sleep. I turn to grab my bag from Faervel, but he’s gone. I spin around searching — but the two elves and our horses have vanished.
Haldir taps my elbow, showing me the bags he holds. “I have it here. The ellyn you saw, those were two of my wardens. They will care for our horses and guard the border while we rest.”
I nod, accepting this, though I am still a little thrown by the way two ellyn and three horses disappeared without a sound.
Instead of handing me my bag, Haldir nods to a large tree a few hundred feet ahead of us. “They have given us one of the larger border stations to use.”
Rumil nods and strides ahead with Alex as if he means to go somewhere with him, and I furrow my eyebrows. All I see is a tree.
In one fluid motion, Rumil throws Alex over his back and jumps straight into the air, disappearing into the thickly-leaved branches.
I stumble backwards, startled. Haldir wraps an arm around my back, steadying me, and watches Baranor follow Rumil and Alex high into the foliage.
I shake my head, looking up at Haldir in the limited light. “No.”
He sighs, slinging our bags over his shoulder. “It is much better than the ground.”
“That doesn’t matter,” I shrug, twisting free of his hold on me. “I am perfectly comfortable right here.” To demonstrate my resolve, I sit cross-legged on the ground, all traces of exhaustion leaving me in the face of this fear.
Haldir crouches in front of me, eyeing me steadily. “We are not sleeping in the branches. There is a platform and walls and a roof — it’s like a house, it’s just above the ground.”
“Great, enjoy,” I give him a strained smile, stress creeping into my features.
Haldir purses his lips. “Caras Galadhon is a city built into the trees. Where you live next will be high above the ground, isn’t it best to confront this fear now?”
Panic seizes my chest. “I am not living in a tree,” I whisper-shout, fear stealing my breath. “Look, for elves, it’s probably fine. You guys are ridiculously coordinated and all that, but I’m human. One good trip and I’m falling to my death.”
He takes my hands in his, letting me see the honesty in his eyes. “I won’t let that happen, I promise you. But more than that, you can trust yourself. You are surefooted and quick, you will not let yourself fall.”
I purse my lips together, contemplating his words. I don’t completely disagree with him…in training, I am quick and steady on my feet.
He sees he’s making progress. “There are beds up there. Think — when was the last time you had a full night’s rest in a comfortable bed?”
I eye him warily.
“And a bath,” he continues, pulling me up by my hands. “A nice, warm, bath, no more freezing washes in the river.” He guides us closer to the tree. “And food. We keep a constant supply of food up there, should anyone need it.”
We reach the base of the trunk, and my limbs seize with fright.
Haldir squeezes the hands he holds in his. “I’ve gotten you this far,” he reminds me, eyes soft and filled with patience. Haldir is not generally a patient person, so I’m guessing he must really love me if he’s taking the time to talk me through this rather than just pulling me up there himself.
I sigh. If he can do that for me, I can do this for him.
Also, I really, really want a bed, a bath, and food.
I nod, and before I can change my mind, Haldir sweeps me into his arms and leaps.
I yelp, too frightened and shocked to even close my eyes. Thankfully, the darkness prevents me from seeing everything that surely whooshes mere centimeters from my face. Haldir doesn’t even use his hands to grip the branches, he merely kicks his feet off of them, continuing to catapult us up until we reach our destination. It’s clear he’s done this many times before. He stops on a forked branch in front of exactly what he described — essentially a house built into the branches. Someone opens the door for us and Haldir steps in, setting me down onto the sure surface of a well-crafted wooden floor.
I blink rapidly, mind racing to process all that just happened.
Rumil closes the door behind us and grins, seeming to forget for a moment that we are at odds. “Baranor and I had a bet on whether or not you’d do it.”
“And,” I question, taking deep breaths to calm myself down.
“I won,” Rumil smiles, handing me what looks like a fancy sandwich.
I bite into it gratefully, fighting the urge to groan in satisfaction, this being my first real meal in days.
Haldir disappears through a door to our right and reemerges without our bags, coming to join Rumil and I in what looks like the living room. “Cosima gets the first bath.”
“That’s fine,” Rumil shrugs, sprawling out on the couch. “Alex is already asleep anyway, and Baranor’s nearly there.”
Haldir takes this with a nod and disappears again, the sound of running water traveling to my ears not long after.
I shift on my feet, my racing heart finally beginning to slow. If I don’t look through the windows, I can really pretend that I am safely on the ground. Still, I search for something to distract myself. “How is there running water up here?”
Rumil takes a bite of his own sandwich. “Elvish engineering. I can show it to you sometime.”
I nod vacantly, not as much interested in how it works, more just glad that it does. “You said Alex and Baranor were where?”
Rumil gestures to a door to our left. “Bedroom.”
I turn to look over my shoulder, noting the door Haldir went through to drop our bags. “Is that another one?”
Rumil nods and I purse my lips. “But where are you sleeping?”
He gestures to the couch upon which he sits.
I shake my head fervently, my suspicions confirmed. “No, no that’s not fair at all! You’ve done so much on the trip. You take the room with Haldir and I’ll sleep on the couch.”
Rumil gives a small smile as he stands and reaches under said couch. He pulls something, and the couch separates and the lower level rises and clicks into place.
“It turns into a bed,” he grins, rearranging the cushions so he has some pillows.
It still doesn’t look very comfortable. I try again. “I really don’t mind sleeping out here.”
Rumil shakes his head. “Cosima, it’s fine, honestly. You and Haldir go—”
And his voice cuts off.
His happy expression morphs into one of pained sadness, and I look to the ground, unable to bear it. It seems the giddiness of being back home has worn off and he’s remembered what I mean for his brother’s fate.
“Rumil,” I whisper, forcing myself to meet his hurting eyes. “I’m so sorry that I’m causing you so much pain. What can I do?”
He clenches his jaw. “There is nothing for you to fix. I—” he sighs, shaking his head. “I don’t hate you, you know. I’m not even upset with you anymore, really…it’s not like this is anything either of you can help. I just can’t be happy for you yet. It’s too difficult to separate the grief from my love for both of you. Can you understand that?”
I sigh, nodding slowly. It’s a relief to know that he doesn’t hate me. Some days, I worry I’ve ruined our relationship completely. “I understand, really, I do. Thank you for not hating me.”
He smiles. It seems weighed down, but it’s a smile nonetheless. “I could never hate you. Despite what’s going on between us right now, I love you like you’re my own sister, Cosi. I just…need time.”
I fight the urge to jump forward and hug him. I don’t think he’s ready for that, yet, and I don’t want to push him. So I keep myself rooted where I stand, my hands safely at my sides. “I don’t remember if I have any brothers, but you are the best one I could hope for.”
His smile finally reaches his eyes.
The running water cuts off and the floorboards creak as Haldir emerges from the bathroom, raising an eyebrow in our direction. I don’t know if he heard us or not. He gestures to me. “Your bath is ready.”
I nod, giving Rumil a final smile and turn towards my bath.
The warm water did wonders for my aching body, but left me even more tired than before. Looking back on it, I don’t even know how I managed to have an entire conversation with Rumil — relief at the prospect of finally resting, I suppose. But now, fully aware of my exhaustion, I barely have enough energy to stumble into the bedroom to the right, collapsing in the small bed closest to me. The faint, distant noise of Haldir wishing me goodnight goes with me into sleep.
A/n Finally, Cosima and Rumil have talked through a little! Let me know what you thought :) Likes, comments, and reblogs make me OH so happy! And as always, let me know if you would like to be added or removed from a tag list!
|next chapter - to be posted|
Tolkien tag list: @anangelwhodidntfall @eru-vande
Haldir tag list: @tolkien-apologist @that-cute-stranger
Double Heart tag list: @lainphotography @themerriweathermage @thophil2941btw @kenobiguacamole @wishingtobeinadifferentuniverse @from-patroclus-with-love @boywivlove @ordinarymom1 @my-darling-haldir @sweet-bea-blossom @moony-artnstuff @sleepyamygdala @thranduilseyebrows @bigcatmairon
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i refuse to accept any ship or otp in any fandom i'm in because 99% of the time i am so incredibly in love with one or both participants that i cannot handle the thought of them being with another person that's not me
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Fandom: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Relationships: male elf and female human, Fëanor | Curufinwë & Original Female Character(s), Fëanor | Curufinwë - Relationship, Original Human Female Character, Elf and Human
Characters: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth Ensemble, Fëanor | Curufinwë, Sons of Fëanor, House of Fëanor, Original Human Character(s), Original Female Character(s), Original Female Character(s) of Color, Original Female Human Character(s), Vala | Valar, Nerdanel (Tolkien), Maedhros | Maitimo, Maglor | Makalaurë, Elrond Peredhel
Additional Tags: Romance, Fantasy, High Fantasy, Drama, Classics, Elf/Human Relationship(s), Elf Culture & Customs, First Kinslaying (Tolkien), Celtic Mythology & Folklore, Mild Sexual Content
Inspired by Charlotte Brontë's Jane Eyre.
After relinquishing his Silmarils to the Two Trees and Yavanna, Fëanor had returned from Mandos to Arda Remade. Swarmed with past haunts and wounds, he was in need of a personal healer.
Khánh, a mortal woman, had grown bored of her current work with herbal lore in a small children's school and wanted expand her career. As fate would have it, she was designated to her new role of assisting the infamous, mercurial Elf.
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headcanons for a platonic relationship with legolas and gimli
(not my gif)
requested by: @certainlovenacho
a.n: i really enjoyed this idea so i might also write a oneshot of it in the future :) such a cute idea thanks for requesting
after the dissolving of the fellowship, you were initially worried that you would have to go back to your former life as a ranger
all the hobbits desired to go home, aragorn had a whole new life to lead, and gandalf could never be kept in one place for very long
your worries soon evaporated when you found yourself caught up with legolas and gimli
the pair of them had developed a very strong bond during the journey, but you immediately fell in with their antics
"oh come on, lassie, you didn't think that we would let ya go home now, would ya?" gimli would joke, nudging his arm just at your knee
legolas was clearly of the same mind
"the dwarf's right, (y/n), you were a hard woman to find, but even harder is it to let go of you."
that settled things, and the three of you set out to explore the rest of middle earth together
the first step was of course the underground world that gimli had promised to give legolas a tour of
being a ranger yourself, your job had taken you into many interesting places, so you were not off-put by the cramped nature of some of the paths
gimli and yourself would joke at legolas' hesitancy
"come on then elf," gimli would tease, "(y/n) will follow me, and she is no dwarf: are you afraid?"
"come on legolas," you would laugh, "an elven prince wary of a few underground tunnels?"
legolas would mumble something under his breath, but nevertheless would follow you: you had learned already that the two of them would follow you to the ends of the earth
following the visit to helm's deep, as again promised, legolas led the both of you to fangorn forest
the idea of the ents intrigued you, and meeting them in person exceeded your expectations
hearing their voices intimated you to begin with, beings of such large stature
gimli was the most wary among you, holding close his axe to his chest, until both you and legolas suggested that such a weapon in the forest was not the best of ideas
"aye, it's not natural, lassie," gimli would grumble, constantly checking over his shoulder as you waded your way through the forest
"the ents are just as natural as us," legolas would sigh, "perhaps more natural than some of us."
"watch it, elf!"
the teasing was endless, but the bond between you was not easily severed, and the three of you would travel the length and breadth of middle earth together
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