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tathrin · 10 months

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An Elvish Lure

Somebody said “using yourself as bait” and my brain spat this disconnected snippet out, so: enjoy a scene in which the Three Hunters try an alternate plan by which to catch-up with the orcs and free Merry and Pippin.

"No," Gimli said.

"Gimli—"

"No," he said again, shaking his head hard enough to make the braids of his beard slap against his shoulders. "No, absolutely not."

"Gimli," Aragorn tried again, "this plan is our best chance to—"

"I said no!" Gimli roared. "I will not have it! Aragorn, I will not!"

It was not Aragorn who answered him. "Gimli, be calm."

Gimli squeezed his eyes shut at that voice, as though he could shut-out the words as easily as he did the sight of the narrow, beardless lips from which they had issues; that golden head; those mithril-bright eyes. Fingers as long and spindly as bare twigs closed on his shoulder, their grip tight enough that he could feel it even through his shirt of mail.

"This is our best chance to save Merry and Pippin," Legolas said. "Perhaps our only chance. Gimli, I am not afraid—"

"Can I not be afraid for you, then?" Gimli asked wildly, grabbing those long fingers and holding them tight. He looked up at Legolas, then very quickly closed his eyes again. He pressed the archer's captured hand to his cheek and held it there, as though he might hold the elf back from this reckless plan as easily. "Orcs hate elves so much, Legolas…"

"That is why it has a chance of working," Legolas said. He sounded so unbearably calm, his woodland accent giving his speech the lilting cant of birdsong. He had sounded so strange to Gimli's ears, once. When had that fair voice stopped sounding strange?

"And if it does?" Gimli retorted. His grip on Legolas's hand tightened. "When it does? What then, Legolas?"

Legolas's narrow shoulders lifted in a shrug. "Then we will fight them."

"Then you will fight them, all alone, until we can come to your aid," Gimli corrected him. "Legolas…" His voice failed him and he had to clear his throat twice before he could force the words out. "Legolas, what if we come too late?"

"It is a risk I am prepared to face," Legolas said simply. "And at any rate, Gimli, I do not believe you will. I have more faith in you and Aragorn both than to let myself fear that I will have to face all the orcs alone. And besides!" he continued with a sudden, fey laugh. "Should it not be the orcs who should fear to face my blade and bow? I slew many of their fellows at Amon Hen, and I will slay many more in these sweet green fields if they will but do me the favor of coming within range of my arrows!"

Gimli looked up at the laughing elf in sad, silent horror.

"We will not have to hide ourselves so far away from Legolas that he will be alone for long," Aragorn said, stepping forward to lay his hand on Gimli's other shoulder, the one that did not burn yet with the memory of Legolas's touch upon his mail. "Orcs are keen of smell, but their eyes are not so sharp in daylight, and their ears will have a hard time hearing anything over the thunder of their own feet upon these plains. Besides, Gimli, we have the cloaks given us by the Lady of Lórien; was it not said that they would help to hide us from unfriendly eyes?"

"It was," Gimli agreed heavily. "But these orcs are fast. And what if they have archers among them?"

"What of it?" Legolas shrugged again, scoffing. "I do not fear crude orcish arrows."

"A crude arrow can kill as readily as a finely-wrought one," Gimli reminded him.

Legolas tossed his head, his golden braids rippling in the dawn. "Only if they strike their target."

Gimli gaped at him in exasperation. "Legolas—"

"No, Gimli, I do not ask you to like this plan, but please. Are we not friends now?" Legolas dropped abruptly to his knees in the soft grass, a position which put his eyes nearly on the same level as the dwarf's. It was Legolas who looked up at him now, his pale eyes glittering as sharply as a sword. "Then please, my friend, cast aside your doubts. Trust me to do this."

"I do trust you, Legolas," Gimli responded automatically. "I do not doubt you. But—"

"Then it is settled." Legolas made to stand, to turn away, but Gimli caught him by the arm and held him still.

"But," Gimli said, his voice a stony growl, "I do not like the idea of you making yourself bait for orcs."

Legolas swiveled on his heels, elvish grace keeping him upright despite the sharp tug of a strong dwarven arm yanking him off balance, and stared up at Gimli. The smile he gave the dwarf was small and fleeting, and there was a heavy sadness in the curve of it that reminded Gimli, suddenly and painfully, of the grey woods of Lothlórien.

"I do not say that I like it either, Gimli," Legolas said softly. "But we cannot outrun the orcs. If they cannot be made to pause their march, they will vanish into Isengard with Merry and Pippin and all chance of saving our friends will be lost." He pressed his free hand to Gimli's cheek and gently stroked the downy hairs there. "I would risk a thousand such dangers for the chance to stop that foul fate from befalling those dear young Hobbits—and I know you would, too, Gimli."

Gimli swallowed, but the aching lump in his throat did not dissipate. "Legolas…"

"The fact that the orcs left the field of battle while the three of us yet lived worries my heart greatly," Aragorn said. His voice, too, was quiet, but a dark tension thrummed through his words like the warning rumble of stone on the brink of a cave-in. "That they put their need to carry away their captives over their desire for slaughter and torment…that worries me, Gimli. Worries me greatly."

Aragorn did not have the keen eyes of the elves, but his sharp grey gaze rose over the plains nonetheless and he stared off into the distance as though staring at the shadows of that terrible band of orcs nonetheless. "I do not know if even this will cause them to turn aside from their path…but if anything will entice them to delay their task, it will be the chance to make sport of a lone and injured elf."

"And so I shall play the bait," Legolas said, before he sprang to his feet, the movement too fast this time for Gimli to stop. He looked down and offered Gimli a fleeting, knifblade smile and declared, "And we Three Hunters will see if we can draw the hunt to us!"

Gimli should have cheered; the words were spoken in the sort of tone that rallied hearts and lifted spirits blazing into battle. But all Gimli could see in his mind was the terrible sight of Legolas left standing all alone, waiting for the orcs to come and find him while his friends hid and watched from safety.

"Legolas…"

"Peace." Elvish fingers pressed against Gimli's lips, stopping his words but not his fears. "Give me this chance, Gimli, and I will turn your doubts aside."

"I do not doubt you—" Gimli started to say again, his voice thick and strangled with the heavy feelings of his heart, but Legolas was already springing away, up the short and stony hillock. Gimli watched him go, his steps as light and swift as the flutter of butterfly wings.

"I do not doubt you, Legolas," he said, the words spoken now in a whisper so low that even elvish ears might struggle to hear them now. "But I fear for you."

Aragorn's hand closed on his shoulder again, warm and steady and lacking the silver-fire touch of Legolas's smooth brown skin. "Come," he said softly. "Let us get under cover, Gimli."

Gimli allowed himself to be drawn away, but his feet scuffed heavily on the uneven grass as he turned to stare behind him at the silhouette of Legolas standing tall and thin against the dawn, pale cloak and golden hair streaming out behind him. He made a fine target for arches up there, Gimli thought sourly; a fine target indeed.

Legolas drew his white knife, and Gimli turned away. He knew that the scent of elvish blood would be needed to draw the orcs' attention; knew further that only with the wind blowing strong and swift towards their quarry did this mad plan have any chance of success, and so he cursed the breeze. Had it only died or shifted, Aragorn and Legolas would have been forced to give up this chance; would have had no choice but to simply run instead, run until they dropped perhaps and even yet fail—but run together, rather than risking Legolas's life alone.

Gimli could not bear to watch Legolas take his blade to his own arm, spill his own blood, to lend verisimilitude to his role as bait; yet he fancied he could hear the sharp glide of knife over skin nonetheless, and he squeezed his eyes shut tight and let Aragorn lead him, stumbling, to the hollow in which they would hide together while Legolas stood out there, tempting danger, alone.

They huddled in their grey cloaks, hands on weapons and breath in their throats, and waited.

And then—and then Legolas screamed.

Gimli started upright, his own breath drawing in for an answering cry of rage and vengeance, but Aragorn grabbed his arms and held him fast. "No, Gimli!" he hissed, hauling the dwarf down bodily back into the small depression in the earth. "No, he is not hurt. This is the lure, Gimli! This is the plan. Be still!"

Gimli let himself be drawn back despite the thundering of his heart against his ribs. He pressed one bare palm against the earth, trying to draw strength from the touch of stone against his skin; trying to find the endurance for which the dwarves were so renowned. But he could not stop trembling; could not stop hearing the echoes of that terrible shrill scream inside his ears.

"I have never heard such a cry, Aragorn," he whispered.

Aragorn's grip on his arm tightened. "I have," he said. His voice was low, almost haunted in the shadows of their hiding-hole. "I am sure Legolas has as well, for his people have long fought the Shadow in Mirkwood—and," Aragorn added, swallowing hard as though against some terrible memory, "he could not have sounded so convincing, if he did not know the sound of an elf in torment."

Gimli's gut twisted and he bit his lip hard enough that he tasted a coppery spill of blood across his tongue. "I would that he did not know it," Gimli said hoarsely. He glared up at Aragorn and added in a sharp voice, "I would even more that he should never experience it himself."

"We are not far," Aragorn insisted. "If the orcs take the bait, we will know it; we are near enough to help. He will not stand alone."

"Not for long," Gimli muttered, "but perhaps for long enough." He held his axe very tightly and wished for a whole host of doughty dwarven warriors at his side—or better, at Legolas's side.

Another cry rose, more warbling than the first piercing shriek; more plaintive, like the screamer was weakening.

Gimli's grip on the haft of his axe tightened until his hand ached. "Aragorn…"

"He is not hurt, Gimli."

"Not yet."

Aragorn had no answer for that.

They sat in silence, straining their ears for the pounding thunder of orcish feet upon the earth; waiting to discover if the enemy would take the bait.

Waiting to learn if the three of them would live through it, if they did.

{read more gimleaf stories here}

#gimli #legolas #aragorn #three hunters #lotr #lotr fanfiction #gigolas #gimleaf #well unrealized gimleaf at the moment i suppose #could certainly be read platonically #but that's one of the joys of their relationship anyway: no matter the particular flavor the love never falters #they're every bit as devoted and delighted by one another whether there's a whiff of romance there or not #and i love that about them because there aren't many relationships you can say absolutely do not CHANGE based on whether it's romantic or no #even the ones that start as friendships and stay as friendships still tend to change somewhat if there's romance (or if there isn't)#but not legolas and gimli #you don't even need to decide which it is when you start writing a story with them because you're writing the same story either way #''you comfort me'' indeed #this ship sails itself all the way to valinor #my writing #my stuff

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fox-from-fairytale · 2 months

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She's so tiny lmaooo you can't even see her in the last one lol it reminds me of that part in LOTR:

#javier says the same to clem #but instead of laughing like gimli does #she shoots him #the walking dead game #twdg #telltale the walking dead #twdg a new frontier #twdg anf #twdg clementine

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ogsherlockholmes · 2 years

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This has got literally nothing to do with this blog but I really need to say it and if I say it in real life people look at me weird and I don’t know I think people will understand me on tumblr so I’ll just burden this on you all.

These two ships:

Are the same ship but in a different font.

#am i crazy #or do i make sense #both probably #theyre making the same expressions oh my god #i don't know tumblr seems like the right place to say shit like this #someone understands #somewhere #im sleep deprived #probably why im like this #nightofthemuseum #lord of the rings #lotr #gimli #legolas

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kierancaz · 2 years

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Me at any given moment: BLUNT THE KNIVES BEND THE FORKS—

#it’s such a bop #i wish we got more of the dwarves singing #i love that song is an important part of their culture #same with the hobbits and elves like YES LADS SING #anyway that’s what Bilbo Baggins hates #lord of the rings #lotr #the hobbit #bilbo baggins #thorin oakenshield #gimli son of gloin #lotr dwarves #kili and fili #fili and kili

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philtstone · 5 months

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for Spotify wrapped prompts: lotr characters of your choice + #11?? (trying my luck to see if I somehow don’t land on a Bollywood song but will be thrilled no matter what!)

#11 -- main hoon na (I'm here now) so funny story my spotify wrapped playlist does NOT include numbering. no numbers. god knows why. and i am not counting my way thru that list. which means i will simply be selecting an inspiration song from the list for each of these prompts, but that still is not saving u from the bollywood of it all. so, to really hard launch things, im splicing the goofiest most spy kids ass incredibly sweet movie of all time with -- of course -- the hippie camp counsellor au

Aragorn's headache has been building since well before lunch, but the relative absence of any sort of real amenities at this truck stop has only made it worse.

First: because outside of a measly bag of chips, which he insisted be shared by Arwen (prone to blood-sugar-related headaches), Eowyn (technically still growing her frontal lobe), Frodo (looking too solemn for a thirteen year old, also still growing), and Sam (who immediately offered his share to Frodo), Aragorn has not eaten anything since their stop at the forlorn Wendy's last night.

Second: because, in pursuit of something more sustaining than said measly bag of chips, Merry and Pippin went investigating. Alone. And now they've been misplaced.

“Under construction! To be replaced by what? A corporate behemoth without any soul?! Without a whit of warmth? Grand oak tables! The ambiance of a fine dining experience! My cousin Balin’s restaurant was no ordinary truck stop facility! The spaghetti bolognese alone made it worth the detour! How many a road trip did I take as a boy –”

Gimli is only twenty one, so this is not so significant as all that.

“Do you think we wouldn’t have misplaced them if we tried to find another Wendy’s?” Legolas asks philosophically, as if Gimli is not standing beside him on the verge of tears.

“We haven’t misplaced them,” Aragorn says. They definitely have. “We must simply ask around – they couldn’t have gotten far. At worst, they have squirreled their way into one of these trucks, and we would definitely notice that.”

The obnoxious horn-blowing alone, Aragorn thinks.

“They could have been kidnapped,” says Legolas, all pragmatic cheer. “Or run over. Or they could be trapped in one of the toilet stalls – the locks stuck on Gimli for a good five minutes when we were in there.”

“Gone!” wails Gimli, who gets very theatrical when upset. “Erased! An institution of road-side relaxation! Oooh, how could Balin not have told me? And for it to be replaced by a barren Travel Center with nothing but a few vending machines! I wasn’t prepared for this kind of tragedy to happen in my lifetime …”

“Legolas,” Aragorn grits out, “some optimism, please.” Gimli is going through multiple stages of grief, so Aragorn lets him be. “Let us put our heads together and do something constructive.”

Canvassing the truckers seems as immediate a solution as any, so that is what they do.

“We’re looking for the cousins of my father’s friend’s nephew,” Gimli describes emotionally to a confused old woman in a cowboy hat and her somewhat tree-shaped husband. “If anyone would have appreciated the smoked smash burgers of my own cousin’s menu … but it’s all lost now! Could you’ve seen ‘em?”

“We’re looking for two very small children,” Legolas says solemnly to the biker gang Eomer had serendipitously known from university, but who eye them with suspicion nonetheless. “You know, the kind you look at and immediately think, oh God, small children, if you’re the sort to not like children much.”

“We’re looking for two pre-teen boys,” Aragorn clarifies at every interval, feeling desperate. “Aged twelve and eleven, with fair hair, coming up to no higher than my hip. You couldn’t miss them if you tried; one of them is wearing a Super Mario t-shirt.”

“Oh, that will be Pippin,” Legolas confirms from behind him. “Terrible taste in video games.”

Gimli dabs tearfully at his eyes with a large checkered handkerchief he pulled from the back of his jeans.

It’s not that he’s truly worried Merry and Pippin have been kidnapped – they do have a rudimentary grasp of stranger danger – only Aragorn is supposed to be exercising leadership on this trip. He is the driver, after all. Even if he still isn't wholly confident in his grad school options.

“Maybe you could do MSF or something,” Legolas wonders aloud, as they look underneath a particularly rusty-looking sixteen-wheeler for their runaway tweens. “Next year I mean, in between things. I’m sure Uncle Elrond would consider that a viable career. You had the pamphlet in your backpack last month and everything.”

“You need a medical degree to do MSF, Legolas,” Aragorn says tiredly; it’s not that he hasn’t thought about it.

“What if you started your own version of MSF, with herbal medicine,” Legolas continues, undeterred. “I’m sure that would be popular amongst middle class white moms. And you’d be an entrepreneur.”

It would somewhat defeat the whole point, but Aragorn appreciates the brainstorming.

Back to Merry and Pippin – technically they are Gandalf’s responsibility – but Gandalf is in the bathroom, so they feel like his, and, furthermore, Aragorn’s getting a bit nervous about leaving Frodo and Sam in the van all alone for so long. Two days ago they found a feral possum in the trunk who they kept on because it has an uncanny sense of direction (it will scratch at random points on the map when it’s not screaming and hissing from the back seat), and though it won’t stop chewing on the hem of Frodo’s jeans, Frodo refuses to let them toss it out of the car; he insists he and the possum can communicate. Aragorn would think he was lying if not for Sam also insisting they can communicate – he has absolutely nothing good to say about the Possum’s personality – and, well, Sam’s a stoutly practical kid. So certainly they must be being truthful.

But the poor possum could bite them, left unattended.

Aragorn decides to try the biker gang one last time.

“Please,” Aragorn says, “they’re like our younger brothers; we can’t just leave them to fend for themselves.”

“Hmm,” says the gruffest of the lot, after a prolonged bout of contemplation. “There was a fist fight or something by the portapotties — I saw a kid’s backpack lying around afterward.”

Of course it had to be a fistfight, Aragorn thinks, as Gimli goes pale and Legolas places a delicate mourning hand flat upon his breast. They march over to the portapotties, accordingly. Sure enough, the backpack is there, but Merry and Pippin are nowhere to be found.

Aragorn kicks at the side of the nearest portable. His toe clips it awkwardly, so he has to sit down for a minute, limping, and resist the urge to bury his head in his hands.

“Oh,” he hears Legolas say. “Oh, alright. Yeah. Yeah. Uh huh.”

Aragorn looks up.

“It's Eowyn,” Legolas says, holding his phone up somewhat unnecessarily. “She says they’re in the van.”

“This whole time?” asks Gimli, slow of voice.

“Well, no. They’ve got deli sandwiches with them. Real ones. Apparently the honey ham is pretty good.”

“Give me the phone,” Aragorn says; Legolas does.

“Hello,” it is not Eowyn, but Arwen’s musical voice on the other end of the line. Aragorn wonders if she perhaps anticipated his mood from the other end of the truck stop and so had the forethought to rescue an unwitting Eowyn from it. Arwen does occasionally demonstrate a telepathic sort of vibe when it comes to him. “We heard your yell from all the way over here – is everything alright?”

Oh. Right.

“Put Merry and Pippin on, please,” Aragorn says, because he couldn’t bear to be rude to his girlfriend and his toe really is throbbing, so he can’t trust himself. “Are they – there, yes. Yes. Well I can hear them in the background. Arwen –”

“Hullo Aragorn,” comes Pippin’s voice, after a staticy smartphone handover.

“I will leave you here next time,” Aragorn says.

“No he won’t,” says Legolas.

“No he won’t,” says Gimli.

“He’s just a little hungry,” chimes in Arwen, a muffled distance from the receiver.

“Well, that’s alright!” says Pippin, before Aragorn can protest. “We got you sandwiches, didn’t we?”

“Oh, yes,” adds Merry, just as close to the phone. “We picked one up just for you. Saved it and everything from that biker gang and Frodo’s possum.”

“Oh, he’s named it now. Calls it Smeagol.”

“I thought he said it introduced itself.”

“Oh, yes, it did do that. Sam disagrees though, says it’s named Gollum.”

“Terrible name for a possum.”

“Don’t you think so? But anyway, your sandwich is safe with us.”

And, despite it all, Aragorn finds that he can do absolutely nothing else but laugh loudly, fondly, and for a long while.

#the 3 hunter sequence in 2 towers is one of my favourites and main hoon na is one of my favourites BASICALLY FOR THE SAME REASONS so #my writing #spotify wrapped prompt meme #the lord of the rings #aragorn #gimli #legolas #merry brandybuck #pippin took #arwen #the two towers #emma you know i will only ever write you hippie camp counsellor au content

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firstruleofmethclub · 6 months

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Gimly's D&D 5E Player Characters - #3

Name: Khazaal the Apostate

Race: Hobgoblin

Class: War Cleric

Background: Slaver

Ability Modifiers: +4 Wisdom & Constitution; +0 Charisma

Campaign: I played Khazaal in a quick experiment thing my roommate and I did. One of us would build a dungeon out of tabletop terrain, and then the other would make a story and treasure and guards and traps for it, while the first would play as two characters and try to get through it, then switch. Seeing as this was just an experiment, and evil player characters often do not fit in actual campaigns, I figured this was my chance to bring the biggest bastards I could create to the table.

Khazaal and Legion (but especially Khazaal) were those two characters. They did end up beating the dungeon, but that's where I left them, probably forever.

Backstory: After Khazaal's vast hobgoblin warherd suffered a stunning defeat at the hands of small band of Acolyte heroes, she, the only survivor, questioned the immutability of her god Maglubiyet. She was cast out of goblinoid society for daring to think such heresies.

Even a Hobgoblin soldier as bold and enduring as Khazaal would not survive long alone, and without a tribe, she was forced to seek out strength elsewhere. On this journey, she met a group of zealots who were her match in combat, and soon after she became a devotee of the Wargod Bane, whose ruthlessness in battle reminded her of Maglubiyet, and whose symbol of the black hand, she likened to The Hand formation of Hobgoblin society, where she had once been a Fatal Axe.

Now with stability, Khazaal next sought out prosperity. To this end, she became a slaver, and was commissioned to search for slaves who had gone running.

#Slavery crops up like every 5 goddamn minutes in fifth edition for whatever reason #and I wanted to do a character who was like ''you know what? I doubt the divinity of my tribe's god who says we must kill and fight always'#like oh good for you #except no because you just traded it in for a different god who says exactly the same thing but you are undecided on the lack-of-divinity #for this one #and oh also now you threw doing a slavery into the mix #like you see how that's worse right?#as a like knockback to the ''former villain'' trope #the ''actually got even worse'' villain #which was fun to come up with but i do NOT think would be very fun to play in a setting where things like roleplay exist #or any ongoing capacity really #gimly #dandy #noticemequannaix

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