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middleearthpixie · 9 months

Note

Here I come bringing my obsession your Ask Box!

AUgust Mashup:

Eomer + Enemies to Lovers + “I didn’t know you cared.”

No pressure: Please and thank you! <3

Ahhhh... I know this took me FOREVER, but here you go (and you should know, this is my very first time ever writing Éomer, so I really hope I got him right!)

I hope you like it! 💜💜💜

Fair Enough

Trope: AUgust Mashup Enemies to Lovers

Quote: “I didn’t know you cared…”

Pairings: Éomer x fem!reader

Warnings: None. Just fluffy fluff

Rating: G

Word Count: 4.6k

***

“Isn’t there some way we could just—you know—knock him from his saddle?”

You bit back a smile at Cynewyn’s suggestion, although it did have merit, and tried instead to focus on the plate you were drying. “The trouble with that would be, we might spook his horse and if it was injured, we’d never forgive us, would we?”

“Well, no. I don’t suppose we would. But, the horse might be just fine. Only Éomer would get no less than he deserves.”

“True, but it’s a risk I’d rather not take. The last thing either us or papa needs is to to pay for replacing his horse.”

“It would be no less than he deserves as well, the snake. I’d like to throw a rock at him right now.”

“Makes two of us, but again—”

“I know,” Cynewyn sighed, “it’s a risk you’d rather not take.”

“Exactly.” You smiled at your older sister. “We can only hope that one day, he gets his and that we are lucky enough to witness it.”

“Which is not going to happen.” Cynewyn went quiet as she dunked another plate into the washbasin. “Still, why would he do that to you, anyway? What was the point?”

You shrugged, taking the plate to wipe dry. “To make sport of me, I suppose. After all, isn’t it funny when a man pretends he’s interested in you and then when you show up at your agreed upon meeting place, he’s nowhere to be found? And isn’t it funny when he and his friends were just outside of the pub, giggling like children, is just so amusing?”

“Men? Bah! They are but boys. Big boys, but boys just the same.” She passed you another plate.

You said nothing, but dried the plate and then slid it onto its shelf in the cupboard, atop the small stack you’d already dried. In the time it took you to do that, Éomer had moved on down the road that ran before the kitchen windows of your family’s small stone cottage. You should have known he’d been sporting with you when he asked you to meet him at the coffeehouse the previous week. Until that morning, he didn't seem to know you were alive. It was only too bad you could not say the same, because not only did you most definitely know he was alive, you thought he was the most perfect man alive. That afternoon, however, he toppled from that pedestal and shattered at its base as far as you were concerned.

Of course, that didn't mean his thoughtless actions didn't hurt. Because they did. They most definitely did.

But, you’d not think about what happened any longer. He’d gotten a good laugh at your expense, but you would rise above it. You had no other choice, really. He was the king’s nephew and you were… well…

You were nobody, really.

A depressing thought.

You finished drying the dishes and left your sister to whatever it was she was doing. You shared a room and night after night, you would stretch out on your bed and try to read whilst she went through her seemingly bottomless supply of fabric for whatever gown she was going to try to copy from whichever lady she saw in town. She was really quite gifted, so you didn’t mind when she asked you to be her model, as you had no dressmaker’s dummy. But tonight, she did not need your assistance and, claiming a headache, instead she chose to go to bed early. A good night’s sleep was always welcomed, but as you lay there in the dark, sleep mocked you instead. It had been happening more and more often now, as the world grew more unsettled and while you could usually find some way to drift off, tonight was not one of those nights. You were simply too restless and so you slipped from the small stone cottage to go for a walk.

You tried not think about how disappointed you’d been when Éomer stood you up at the coffeehouse. Perhaps you should have expected it, but it hurt just the same. Of course, you weren’t the only one who imagined catching his eye. Half the women of marriageable age in Edoras dreamed of doing just that and no one could blame a one of you. Not only was he the king’s nephew, but he was so blasted handsome, with his long, wavy dark gold hair and direct hazel eyes. And whenever you saw him on horseback—you melted a little on the inside each time.

Of course, now he knew you fancied him and not only that, but he’d used it against you. Knocking him off his horse wasn't even close to being enough. Still, you couldn't dwell on it forever. In time, everyone who was in that coffeehouse would forget.

Everyone but you, anyway.

“And that is the last we will think of it,” you muttered, trying instead to focus on something, anything, else as you strolled on.

It was a peaceful night, hints of the coming autumn in the crisp edge of the breeze that stirred the leaves last night’s storm had pulled from the trees. The best thing about the stone cottage at the end of the road in Edoras? You were the farthest point from the king’s residence, which meant you would most likely not cross paths again with Éomer at this time of night. True, he’d been riding south, which meant that at some point he would pass by here again, but you’d have enough warning, as the road was wide and almost no trees lined it. Sneaking up on you would be almost impossible.

Not that he would even try. He’d made himself perfectly clear where you were concerned.

The night sky was clear, spangled with stars and moonlight bathed everything as far as you could see an etherial silver color. There had been rumblings to the east, and you’d heard talk amongst the menfolk about the possibility of war, and you also knew that orcs had been seen on the borders of Rohan. And that was why you did not leave your house without a blade of some sort. Although your father was not overjoyed at the thought, he allowed both you and Cynewyn to carry a small sword, which you were almost never without. You weren’t a master by any stretch of the imagination, but Papa had made certain you and your sister learned how to defend yourselves, should the need ever arise.

Your walks had become your way of remaining sane when it seemed there was so much uncertainty all around. The thought of war was so foreign to you, as your father insulated you and Cynewyn as best he could, and yet you knew it wasn’t far off. The king’s health was failing, and you’d heard rumors that he, Éomer, and the king’s advisor, Grima, had been butting heads of late.

Perhaps that was why Éomer had gone thundering past the kitchen windows on his horse as he had. One too many cross words with his uncle, maybe? In some ways, you hoped so, for if Éomer was banished, life would become easier for you.

But at the same time, if you were completely honest with yourself, you knew if he left for good, you would miss him terribly. How difficult it was, caring so much for a man you also tried so hard to despise! If only you could forgive him.

If only.

You vowed once more to not think about it.

Instead, you concentrated on the beauty of the night sky, of how those stars seemed so vast and endless, how the moon managed to bathe things silver although it gave off no light. You listened to the whisper of the wind through the scrub grass and bushes that dotted the landscape seemingly to the edge of Middle Earth. The wind whispered, crickets chirped, and in the distance, an owl hooted. A normal night.

Or so you thought.

You heard the noise before you saw the creature that made it and as those sounds reached your ears, the stench reached your nose. Your heart lurched, your stomach kinked, and a sour taste filled your mouth, brought on both by the stink and the coldest, iciest, most petrifying fear that ever permeated your being.

Papa always told you not to venture too far from the road. One never knew what lurked in the fields sweeping east and west, where twisted trees grew in clumps and provided cover for many things.

Such as the orc now standing over Éomer’s prone body.

You ducked, shifting toward the stand of pine trees twisted by the winds, which thankfully carried any sounds you might have made away from the orc and Éomer. Metal clanged Éomer blocked the orc’s downward swing with his blade. He held fast, his arms trembling from the effort and his heavy glove the only thing keeping the dual-sided blade from slicing into his hand.

The orc appeared to brace harder against his blade, determined to run Éomer through and you couldn't let that happen, no matter how angry or hurt you were because of him. So, you slid your blade free and crept about the pines as silently as you knew how. You’d learned from Papa, who would take you with him when he went hunting, and although you could never bring yourself to kill anything, you learned from him just the same. Besides, an orc wasn’t anywhere near as beautiful as a deer or fox. Quite the opposite, really. They were the ugliest, vilest, most disgusting creatures to walk the earth as far as you were concerned.

Your soft-skinned boots made no sound as you approached and the orc never knew what hit him when you swung and cleaved his head clean from his shoulders. What was left of him collapsed like a sandbag atop Éomer, who swore softly as the creature’s thick, black blood splattered him.

Nausea rose in your throat as it spattered you as well, and you tried to ignore it as you grabbed the still-warm shoulder and threw the corpse back. “Are you all right?”

“I’ve had better nights,” Éomer groaned, rolling over and onto his knees, his sword clattering softly in the dust. “What are you doing out here?”

“I was but going for a walk. What is that—” you gestured to the dead orc—“doing here? They do not usually venture so close to our borders.”

“They grow bolder and have been for some time now.” He rocked back on his knees and swept his silver and brass helmet from his head to let it clatter to the ground alongside his sword. “Are you all right?”

“Me? I am fine.” You resheathed your sword and carefully crouched alongside him. His dark blond hair was damp with sweat, pulled away from his face and held back with a small strip of worn leather. “And you?”

“I’ll be fine.”

“What happened?”

“It’s nothing.” He winced as he shifted onto his backside and gingerly prodded at his left thigh.

You looked down, your stomach clenching at the sight of the wound that must’ve bled terribly, for the entire front of his trouser leg was stained with a large wet patch. It looked as if the orc’s blade had sliced through the fabric. Without thinking, you brushed his hands aside to see for yourself and as soon as you had, you wished you hadn’t.

The wound was ugly and raw, a long slice from just below his hip to his knee, and still bled freely. “We need to get you home.”

“You go on. I need to find my horse.”

“Your horse is not here,” you told him, scanning all around to make certain you weren’t lying. You were’t. There was no sign of a horse anywhere about. “Come, let’s get you up and I will help you.”

“Just leave me…”

“Oh, don’t be a fool!”

He jerked back. “I am serious. Leave me. The last I want is harm befalling you on my behalf. So please, just go. There will be more of them coming, looking for this one,” he nudged the corpse with one boot. “And I am not at all certain I’d be able to protect you.”

“You mean you aren’t certain you’d want to.”

He just stared up at you. “I didn't say that, nor would I.”

“You might as well. Aren’t I only a laugh to you anyway? Ever the fool for you and your friends to chuckle over.”

At least he didn't try to deny his actions or motivations as he said, “Oh… the coffeehouse.”

“Yes,” you nodded, “the coffeehouse. So, you’ll forgive me if I don't believe you would lift a finger to keep an orc away from me. Of course, you would do well to remember that it was I who saved you from an orc regardless. Still, if you wish to be left alone, far be it from me to insist on staying.”

You moved to stand, only to have him catch you by the wrist. “No, please,” he said softly, looking up once more, “don’t go. I—I owe you an apology for that.”

“To save your sorry skin, no doubt.”

To your surprise, he chuckled. “I deserve that.”

“Oh, that’s mighty big of you to admit,” you said dryly. “How very big indeed.”

“Very well, you’re right, you know. About all of it. And I mean that in the most sincere manner possible. Honest.”

That took a bit of wind from your sails and you sighed. “Perhaps we might fight about it later?”

He bobbed his head. “I wholeheartedly agree with that notion. Much, much later. In fact, we should never speak of it again.”

“Once you apologize, you mean.”

“I just did apologize.”

“No,” you shook your head, “you said you owed me one, which you do of course. But admitting it is not an actual apology.”

To your surprise, he burst out laughing. It was cut short by a sharp inhale of pain, but his smile only wavered as he snorted, “You’re joking, right?”

“You mean to tell me you honestly considered that an apology? Those sorry words? Truly?”

“Well…” he nodded. “Yes."

“Fine.” You stood up and brushed dirt and crushed pine needles from your backside. “I’ll bid you good eve then. You should hope you’re mobile once more before they come looking for their friend.”

You had every intention of marching off, of just leaving him there to rot, not caring if any more orcs happened upon him. It would serve him right. Apology. Bah! He could go pound sand, as Papa would say.

However, you only got maybe ten feet away when your conscience got the better of you and you came back to find he hadn’t moved an inch.

“Come,” you growled, crouching beside him once more to take hold of his left wrist. “Let’s get you back.”

“I didn't know you cared,” he said even as he allowed you to help him up.

“I don’t. I should let you rot.”

“So, why aren’t you?”

“I don’t know. I’m a soft-hearted fool, I suppose.” You gave a not so gentle tug. “We should go. His pack is bound to notice he’s not returned and I do not want to have to explain to your uncle how I let you get butchered by orcs.”

“I’ll be forever grateful,” he replied drolly.

“Do you wish my help or not?”

He draped an arm about your shoulder. “Yes, of course I do. And I appreciate it as well.” He winced. “How far are we from Edoras’ border?”

“It’s better if you don’t know.”

“That far, eh?”

He leaned heavily on your shoulder, and you tried to ignore the stinging along your neck, the dull ache that spread down into your shoulder from bearing the brunt of his weight, as he was considerably taller and heavier than you were. “I’m afraid so, yes.”

“Wonderful.”

For reasons you couldn't begin to explain, the drollness in his deep voice made you laugh. “Yes, I couldn’t agree more.”

You managed to get him back to the road, him leaning hard against you with each step he took on his wounded leg. And with each step, his gait slowed. “Take care,” he said when you stumbled. “It would do us both no good if we fell.”

“I beg your… pardon,” you gritted, hefting him higher on your shoulder once more, “but… you are… not light, you know.”

“I know and I appreciate your help here as well.” He went silent for a long moment, then, drew in a deep breath and added, “And I’m sorry. For what I did at the coffeehouse.”

“All you had to do was come in and tell me you’d changed your mind, you know.” you told him, staring straight ahead, waiting for Edoras’ reassuring lights to come into view. At least then, you knew you’d be close to home and close to safety.

“The thing of it is, I didn’t change my mind.” The regret in his voice surprised you and you stopped without warning, catching him as he stumbled, then scolded, “Take care, if you wouldn’t mind.”

“I’m sorry, but what? What do you mean, you didn't change your mind? Of course you did. I was there, remember? I was there and you were not.”

“No, I know that, but,” he pulled free, easing his arm from about her shoulders before shifting to settle on a rock, “I need to sit a moment.”

You didn't fight him, happy to be free of his weight, even if only for a few minutes. You rubbed the side of your neck. “Only a few minutes, though. We don’t know how much time we have left.”

“I know.” He looked up at you. “I didn’t change my mind, you know.”

“So you’ve said. What you haven’t said, was why you just left me sitting there like a fool.” Finally, you were able to get that weight off your chest, your eyes stinging the way they had in the coffeehouse, when you realized he was not coming through the door. “Why did you do that to me?”

“I was coming in,” he said slowly, looking up to meet your gaze, “and when I saw you… I got nervous and I know that sounds idiotic, but it’s the truth. It was a stupid, fool thing to do to you and I am ever so sorry I hurt you. If I could but do it over, I would walk through that door and we would not be having this conversation. And for that, I am also sorry.”

You had waited so long for him to assume responsibility for how he’d hurt you. And now that he had, you were at a loss for words. How did you respond to that? What did you say?

“Am I supposed to believe you had an attack of nerves? You, of all people?”

“Is that so hard to believe? I’m only human as human as any other man, you know. And that means that yes, sometimes, I have an attack of nerves. I’m not made of stone, I’ll have you know and you—”

You waited a moment for him to finish, your heart beating erratically now as those words were the last ones she ever thought she’d hear from him. But, when he remained silent, just staring at the ground, you leaned in. “I what?”

He looked up then, his eyes soft, and murmured, “You stole the breath from my lungs.”

You could only stare. Were you but dreaming or perhaps he’d suffered a head injury before you reached him? One of those had to be the truth because there was no other rational explanation for his words, no matter how they set butterflies free in your belly to batter your insides with their wildly-beating wings.

“Éomer, I—I don’t know what to say,” you finally managed.

“No, I’m sure you don’t,” he replied softly. “And I cannot fault you. But, if you could find it in your heart to forgive me, I would like another chance. A chance to right things between us.”

“Things between us? Is there a thing between us, never mind more than one?”

To your surprise, a sheepish smile lifted his lips. “I should like there to be.”

“I don’t even like you, you know.”

His grin widened. “Somehow, I don’t believe that. After all, you came back, didn’t you?”

“Don’t let it go to your head. I could still leave you out here.”

“You could.” He nodded, then shook his head. “But you won’t.”

You stared at him for a long moment, then let out a heavy sigh of resignation. “No. I don't suppose I will.”

His eyes sparkled with mischief. “I knew it.”

You offered up a smile of your own and then, with all the force you could generate, you punched him square in the shoulder.

He yelped as the blow sent him rocking backwards. “What was that for?”

“Because you, Éomer, are an ass and I should leave you here to suffer whatever fate you deserve.”

“You should, but I wish you wouldn’t.” He reached for your hand, caught it, and linked his fingers with yours. “I am truly sorry, though. You have to believe me.”

“Why should I believe you now?”

Éomer winced as he carefully stood. “Because I would like the chance to right my wrong where you are concerned.”

You looked up at him. “And how do you think you can do such a thing? I hate you.”

“No, you don’t.”

“I’m fairly certain I do.”

He smiled then and bent and before you could say anything, his lips met yours. Despite his wounded leg, he caught your face between his hands, not so much as wavering as his lips moved teasingly and gentle against yours, as his tongue eased between your lips to caress yours, and you shivered at the silken caress. His lips were soft and warm and those butterflies fluttered harder now, with more fury as he kissed you slow and deep and made your head spin as it had never spun before.

Éomer was slightly breathless when he drew back. “So, will you allow me another chance? A chance to right what I’ve done wrong?”

“By all rights, I should say no.”

“But you won’t.” His hazel eyes sparkled with mischief.

“No,” you shook your head slowly, “I won’t.”

In the distance, came the snarl of wargs and that was enough to spur Éomer to drape his arm about your neck once more and say, “We should go.”

“A wise idea, to be sure.”

You made it back to Edoras without incident and you wasted no time in rousing the healer from her bed, just as she wasted no time in shooing you from the infirmary. Someone must have alerted Éowyn as well, for she came hurrying down the corridor, her hair bound up away from her face and still in her nightdress.

“What happened?”

“He was set upon by orcs just beyond the border.”

“But what were you doing out there?”

You managed a smile. “I was but going for a walk. I was having trouble sleeping, and sometimes that helps.”

“You need be careful,” she warned. “What if you’d been alone?”

“We won’t think about that.”

The healer came out. “My lady,” she said with a tired smile. “His lordship is resting now and he’d like to see you.”

Éowyn stepped forward, only to have the healer shake her head. “No, my lady, I’m sorry. He meant you,” she said, looking at you.

You swallowed hard. “M-me?”

The healer nodded now. “He was very clear.”

“I’ll just see what he might want,” you said, feeling no little guilt at Éowyn’s almost hurt expression. “And when he hears you’ve come down to see him, I’m sure he will ask you be brought in.”

Éowyn said nothing, but bobbed her head and you followed the healer into the small, quiet, semi-dark room.

Éomer was abed, the linens stark even against his pale hair, and your heart skipped a beat at the sight of him, as you’d never seen him so informally dressed, his loose tunic left unlaced to offer up an enticing patch of what you were certain was a finely-muscled chest. The image that came to your mind brought those butterflies to life once more deep within your belly.

His eyes were closed, his enviably thick lashes dark crescents against his pale cheeks, but as you drew near, they opened and a tired smile lifted the corners of his mouth. “I thought perhaps I’d dreamed everything that happened this night,” he said softly, “but the pain is far too real.”

“I assume your healer stitched the wound. It looked fairly ugly.”

He nodded. “She did. I can resume duties in a week, according to her.” He gestured for you to come closer and when you did, he added in a whisper, “and we won’t tell her when I’m gone come morning, will we?”

“You should take her advice.”

“I cannot. Not right now.”

“Éomer, you will be useless with only a few hours’ rest and one leg. You need allow yourself time to heal.”

“Are you taking her side?”

“In this?” You nodded. “Absolutely.”

“But… you’re supposed to take my side.”

“I would be, if you weren’t talking such foolishness.”

“Ouch. You wound me.” As he spoke, he reached out and caught your hand, and your mouth went dry as he gave a gentle tug. “Come and lay with me.”

“I couldn’t.”

“You could.”

“Éomer.”

“What?”

“I don't even like you.”

His eyes glinted with a hint of mischief. “We both know that isn’t true, don’t we?”

“Oh, it’s true.”

“Liar.” He tugged again. “Are you truly going to make a wounded man beg?”

“Éomer.”

“What?” He brought your hand to his lips, to your surprise, brushed its back with a kiss and murmured, “Please?”

You stared down at him for a long moment. “You are supposed to be injured.”

“I am injured. Nearly twenty stitches are holding that wound closed. But somehow, I don't think I’ll mind being trapped in this bed, if I have someone to share it with.”

Your heart fluttered. “Éomer. You are in an infirmary.”

“I know, but I’m in my own room, as you see.” He smiled. “No one will bother us and I promise to keep my hands to myself.”

With that, his smile grew mischievous. “Unless, of course, you’d rather I didn’t. And then, the next time I see you in the great hall or the yard, I’ll just look across at you and smile and only you will know why.”

You sighed softly and then, after a quick look about, gingerly stretched out alongside him, your heart beating faster as he drew his arm about your shoulders to tug you closer. You peered up at him. “And why will I be smiling?”

His eyes glinted with that same hint of mischief that let loose even more butterflies in your belly. “You’ll see.”

With that, he caught you beneath the chin with one bent finger, lifting your face ever so slightly and as his lips captured yours, you smiled. “You aren’t going anywhere come morning, you know.”

He broke the teasing kiss to gaze down at you. “Is that so?”

“It is,” you nodded, “because you have some very real making up to me to do. And I’m fairly certain it will take longer than a few hours."

“Making up to you, you say?” One dark brow arched and his smile grew wicked with promise. “I think that’s fair enough.”

***

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#eomer #karl urban #LOTR #august mashup #august prompts #fotfics august event #sotwk asks #pixie answers #Éomer x reader #Éomer x you #LOTR AU

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lordoftherazzles · 2 months

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Word Except Ask Game: BLUEBERRIES 🫐

Hope you're well, Razzy! ❤️

AKSJDLKASJDA I FEEL SO PREDICTABLE, and I am doing well!! A little stressed out with many life things, but doing pretty good!! I hope you are also doing well, my friend!!

My favorite...blueberries...I can't wait to make blueberry cheesecake cupcakes for my birthday later this month....anyway!!

From my upcoming fic, Golden Hearts Bleed Faster (Bodyguard AU), which, much like those cupcakes I mentioned...will also be available for consumption later this month 👀

The way to a man's heart was through his stomach, his mother had always said, and if chipping away at Thorin's stone walls took blueberries...all of Bag End could be full of them.

Send a random word to my inbox and I'll post a line/passage containing that word from a released or unreleased fic!

#raz answers #ask game #sotwk #THIS FIC IS FINALLY COMING OUT THIS MONTH YAYYYYY #THE BODYGUARD AU I'VE BEEN YELLING ABOUT FOREVER #bagginshield

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epilogue-and-prologue · 8 months

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For the AU-gust Mashup:

Fili x Reader + Fairytale + “Just look at me. Forget everything else.”

No pressure at all! Thank you in advance for considering the request! <3

Words

Fandom: Lord of The Rings - The Hobbit Ship/Pairing: Fili x Reader Trope: Fairy Tale - Curse Note: Prompt is in the ask. Thanks @sotwk I don't have the occasion to write for Fili near enough. SORRY FOR BEING SO LATE. Warnings: Curse, losing your voice, not being able to communicate, near death experience. Word count: 1 954 Tag-list: @heilith @asgardianhobbit98 @middleearthpixie @glassgulls @evenstaredits @fizzyxcustard @sotwk

The summer had barely begun, when you met him. At first, you thought he was an illusion. A trick of your mind. Clear eyes, blonde hair, he’d carried himself just like you thought he would. The Crowned Prince, they called him. He had introduced himself as Fili. Nothing more. He came and went to your stand on the market place. Over the course of a few months, he had become a vital presence in your life. Just as you did in his.

To your agony, none of you would speak of it aloud. In your mind only, could he hold you, could he be with you. The status was one thing. The other was how people called you: the witch. Fili would never refer to you in such a way. He once called you a “soft-spirited soul who could cure any wound”. It had made your heart beat so fast you thought he would surely see the beats on your skin. But, the herbs you used and the unguents? It was common knowledge, yet it was not as widely used as it should have been. It was considered a women’s trade first and then was replaced completely by modern medicine. They did not keep your stall empty though. Even, on occasions, some people would come to you for more than just healing. For a kind ear and a cup of ale. That was why it did not surprise you when the tall and grand man came, in his white robes and equally beautiful staff. He did not say his name but you would remember his face forever. An intricate affair of wrinkles and bones showing under his skin. It was as if he’d been taunt over an overused canvas. You had seen worse ugliness, worse gnarly members, deformed by arthritis or unfair accidents. It was nothing new and you thought nothing of it.

“What may I help you with tonight, traveller?”

His robe was stained on the hems, earth and what you assumed was crusted mud over it. He did not move, only following your movements across the room with intent. His lips seemed to be moving, but no sound came out of them. Uneasy, you sat down and offered a cup of warm tea, just brewed. He stayed motionless.

“You look just like her, you know? — What?”

The jolt almost made you knock over your tea. The last time someone compared you to anyone else was when your grandmother was alive. Could he have known her? Or was he toying with you?

“You like just like your grandmother…” He stepped into your space, closing in on you. A chill ran down your spine. He had known her then. “The same eyes, the same face, those same treacherous lips…” He grabbed onto your chin, a harsh grip forcing you into meeting his eyes. You were so scared you did not dare move a muscle. “And you will pay for her lies and her filthy words.”

He released you, your body meeting with the floor in a violent attempt at getting away from him. His staff pointed at you, he mumbled incoherent words. Then, some all too coherent ones.

“Blood of the blood of my enemy, I hereby punish you. For your grandmother broke my heart with her words and it will break yours too! You will remain speechless, until someone confesses their love for you. Only if they do and you love them in return, the curse shall be lifted. A day and a night you shall have before the words strangle you. Hear my wrath, blood of the blood and know your time to be shortened.”

A maniacal laugh echoed through the room, white and grey fog sneaking through the door. You raised your head and he was gone, heaps of smoke the only sign he was there at all.

The next morning, you were mute.

———— It had taken a heavy toll on you. People could not understand why from one day to the next, your voice had gone out. The weather could not explain it. You couldn’t any more either.

Of course, Fili chose that day to show up. He did not exactly chose, for it was the first time in weeks he had managed to have some free time. Naturally, he arranged to come and see you.

“Hello.”

The smile you offered was…odd. Uneasy. He wondered what he could have done to deserve this thin lipped, excuse of a smile. You were always so quick to smile brightly, even in the early hours of the morning, eyes stinging with the last remnants of sleep.

“Are you not going to say it back?”

He rose an eyebrow, more out of curiosity than animosity. You tried. You really, really tried to tell him. But the clients were growing impatient and the line was growing thick behind him. Upon seeing you interact with them, gestures and half guessed prices, Fili realised you were not choosing not to answer. You could not. In an impulse, he jumped over the stand and joined you behind.

“Hello, good sir, what might we do for you today?”

The dandy man blinked once. Twice. His eyes kept going from you to Fili before choosing to ignore the fact that the future heir to the kingdom was now selling herbs and creams on the market. You could not stop him even if you had wanted to. Before you could try to intervene, he had already taken it upon himself to help you. He pushed you back and sat you down on your chariot. He did not stop, not for one minute. The whole morning he served and listened sometimes turning to you for confirmation. You intervened once or twice, and that was that. How long did he observe you to know almost as much as you did? From where you were you saw him leave his heavy pelted coat, warmed up by the activity. His shoulder blades barely hidden behind a linen shirt, became a good distraction to the feeling of helplessness within. Your fingers twitched once or twice, wanting nothing more than to reach out for him. You knew you couldn’t. But one can always dream. Right? Suddenly in lack of clients, he turned to you, chest rising rapidly. A hint of hair peeked from under his collarbones and you had a hard time focusing on his words.

“Now. How did you lose your voice?”

A real worry started to gain his face even as he smirked. He could not fool you anymore. His eyes started studying you, as if your face could tell him what had happened.

“Did you catch a cold?”

You shook your head and sighed. This was going to be impossible to explain. Suddenly, you sprung to your feet grabbing his hand. If he had been in his right mind, he would have stuttered and crumbled internally at that. Luckily he wasn’t and merely blushed when you did. Your hands were showing him something.

“Something to write?”

Excitedly, you nodded. He pulled a piece of paper and a charcoal out of his pocket and handed them to you. In quick words, you explained the situation to him. As he read on, his heart kept sinking. He knew his attachment to be love. Fili had known for quite some time. Regardless, if you did not feel the same then it was a doomed story. The deadline was growing closer as each moment passed and he was losing his mind. He kept pacing trying to find another way out of it. There was none. Even if he had gone to Gandalf - the sorcerer of the Kingdom - it would be too late before he’d come up with a solution. His only hope was to tell you how he felt. In the unlikely odds, that maybe, you would not reject him. If not, he’d make your last day a feast and a paradise. The taste of grief melted in his mouth. He swallowed it soon. In a whisper and an extended hand, he called you to him. When you took his hand, shaking and hesitant, his heartbeat accelerated.

If only he knew. His face told you everything. You could see his resolution disappear with every passing moment. He had no solution. So, he did not love you in the end and the dreams you had about living together were just dreams. You almost cried when he pulled you in, embracing you in his arms, his warmth. He could not look at you and you could not blame him for it.

“It’s time I told you…”

You held your breath, a deep sigh shaking him. He took your face in his hands, gentle and tender.

“I am afraid that all those months I have deceived you.”

Your heart sank again and as you struggled in his hold, he stopped you.

“Let me finish, please.”

You nodded, tearful sobs already on the edge of your lips.

“I have not been honest. From the very first time we met, I knew. I knew I would come to love you. I did not stop it. I knew our stations would not match. It didn’t bother me. It still doesn’t. I don’t care if you don’t love me back. I need you to hear this…”

Tears ran down your cheeks. He had to be lying. He had to be. How could he say such lies when you were in this deadly situation? How could he toy with you like this. Again, you struggled against his hold and he gripped your shoulders. Through the cloths his heat was both a fast poison and a powerful balm.

“Just look at me. Forget everything else. Forget where we are. Just listen to me.”

You did. You looked at him and his sea-coloured eyes. A deep feeling of content took root inside of you. Maybe if you were to die by tomorrow, enjoying him was not the worst thing you could be doing right now. So you did as he said and focused on his voice, his eyes, his neatly braided beard. Your fingertips combed gently through it and it made him stutter for a moment.

“I love… No. I adore you. You will not die today, I will not allow it. Never will I allow it. You cannot leave me like this. There were shadows in me before, now there’s only your light. Yours and no one else. How you did it, I will never know but I love you. I love you, and I will always love you until the end of time… —I love you too.”

Your voice croaked as if it had been unused for years. It startled both of you. An immense joy washed over you and you jumped into his arms, breathing him in, basking in his warmth. He held on to you so tight, it was sure to leave marks. The market around you was unchanged but you were. He looked at you dead in the eye, a mere centimetres from your face.

“Never, ever, do that again. —No promises.”

You laughed and squealed when he mumbled about “promises” and “worried sick” and you being the death of him one day. Quickly, in between two rants you pulled him to you and kissed him. He continued on for a good moment before he realised what had happened. He blushed furiously, the corner of his lips lifting. Soon, your lips found his, gently. He wanted to enjoy that kiss and all the others coming afterwards.

People around you, were sure to have something to talk about the next day.

On the other hand, you would choose to be nowhere else but right there in his arms.

All their words be damned.

#fotfics #prompts #fairy tale #au gust 2023 #fili x reader #fairytale!au #the hobbit fic

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emmyspov · 1 year

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Communication (Boromir x Reader)

author's note: after reading some really amazing boromir fics (yes, @sotwk i am looking at you especially 👀) i am now in my boromir of the fellowship era (also legolas, I know, i am like 10 years too late for my age group, but i've suddenly become very obsessed with orlando bloom) and wanted to contribute something! please bear with me, it's my first time writing for him & english isn't my first language 🩷

warnings: everybody lives AU, angsty in the beginning (insecure reader/boromir), idiots being in love & fluff (plus a tight friendship between faramir and reader & established faramir/éowyn <3) - let me know if i missed something!

word count: 2.2k

edit is mine, all pics are from pinterest :)

“You should join us again. My brother has been looking for you all evening.”

You turned around to Faramir and sighed. “I know you only want to make me feel better, but I saw him dancing with a fair lady earlier, probably one of noble blood.” You swallowed hard. “And the way he was looking at her, I just-” You shook your head while focusing on cleaning whatever surface seemed dirty, leaving your friend to imagine the rest of your sentence.

It wasn’t necessarily a secret that you had been harboring feelings for the Lord of Gondor and yet, he seemed blind to whatever affection you were trying to show him.

The younger one of the brothers leaned against a table, his eyes fixated on you. “You should see the way he looks at you.”

A bitter laugh escaped your lips. “Are you taking on the role of the jester tonight? His eyes never even cross mine.” You wrung out the piece of fabric with your hands, trying to let go of some of the heavy feelings in your chest.

“Please, Faramir, you are only making this harder for me. Boromir will never let his heart be captured by someone like me.”

“My brother does not care about status. You could be the lowest servant and it would not affect the way he feels about you. You care for Gondor, for the people here, our people, and he sees that. Nothing else matters.”

You finally let go of the dirty cloth in your hand and faced your friend, wiping the sweat off of your forehead with the back of your hand.

“I’m not saying he cares about my rank; I’m saying that he has hundreds of people who want him. Women and men from all over Middle Earth. Why would he go for someone who… no one else has ever shown interest in?”

Faramir was about the reply when your voice cut through the silence again.

“By now, I think I am just not lovable in that way. People love me as a friend, as a sibling or as an advisor when there is work to do. And I adore that. I love that I never have to question if there are people who care for me. But I do ask myself if there is something wrong with me.”

The younger brother squeezed your shoulder in a comforting manner. “The only thing that’s wrong with you is the way you see yourself. You will find someone who-“

You finished his sentence for him, a teasing grin on your lips, as soon as you realized he had gotten lost in thought. “Someone who will make your palms sweaty? Your heart beat faster? Someone who will make the blood rush into your cheeks?”

A giggle left your lips at the sheepish smile on Faramir’s face. “I apologize.”

Your finger poked his chest, scolding him playfully. “Don’t you dare, son of Gondor. You deserve this. You really do. I can see that Éowyn brings joy into your life. Speaking of Éowyn – shouldn’t you return to your lady?”

“And leave you here all by yourself? No, let us go together. You haven’t danced with anyone tonight and I cannot let you leave in that state. I have to a see a smile on that face.”

It was impossible to stay in your little bubble of self-pity when you had a friend like Faramir. Even though he was courting a shieldmaiden of Rohan, he was still watching out for you and your happiness.

“You have convinced me. One dance and then I will leave.”

Faramir smiled and pushed himself away from the table, leading you out the door where you nearly bumped into his older brother and Éowyn.

“My love, we were looking for you”, she exclaimed and immediately wrapped her arms around his arm. “Boromir wanted to get away from everyone for a moment and we figured it would only be the two of you in this part of the building.”

Little did you know that Boromir had pretty much begged his soon to be sister-in-law to lead him to you. And she was neither dumb or blind, she knew how you two felt about one another.

Your eyes fell to Boromir’s hands. He was carrying several jugs and although he did so with ease, you couldn’t help but offer assistance.

“May I help you with that, my Lord?”

His eyes locked with yours and immediately, you looked down to the ground. Blood rushed into your cheeks and you cursed yourself internally.

One look from him was all it took for you to get weak in the knees.

Boromir, on the other hand, was struggling just as much. If he said yes, you might feel like it was expected of you and that he saw nothing else in you but some sort of servant – which wasn’t the case, of course. But if he said no, he would lose another chance of getting to speak more than just a few words with you.

After what felt like an eternity, some words finally tumbled out of his mouth. “You don’t have to.” He cleared his throat, trying to get rid of the nervous lump. “But I would appreciate your company.”

Your head snapped up, eyes locking with his once more. With new found confidence and a smile on your face, you took two of the jugs and made your way back into the room you came from.

“Is there some warm water around here? To clean the jars?”

You nodded. “Yes, I boiled some earlier for other things, but do not worry. It is not your responsibility to wash up.”

The Lord chuckled. “It isn’t yours either. So, do you have a preference?”

“Sorry?”

“Would you rather wash or dry the dishes?”

Thousands of thoughts were running through your head and yet, the only thing you could focus on was the man in front of you, holding a towel in one, and a cloth in the other hand, asking you about what you’d rather do.

To others, it might seem like a small thing, but most of the time no one even cared if you did the chores around here, let alone offer help.

“Oh.” A smile spread over your face. “I do not have a preference.”

After one look at your hands and seeing how wrinkled the skin already was from all the work you’ve been doing this evening all by yourself, Boromir threw the towel at you and started to roll up his sleeves to protect the fabric from the water, exposing his strong forearms.

Blood rushed into your cheeks at the thought of what he could do with those arms and you averted your gaze, trying to think of something else, something decent.

“Why did you leave so early tonight?”

You were not going to admit that you had felt out of place all evening, that you had desperately wished for some of his attention or that you couldn’t bear to see him dancing with so many people but you.

“I figured I would be more of use here.”

The man looked around. “We’re the only ones here. The celebration is in the great hall and, forgive me, while you are a very hardworking person, there is no way you can take care of everything by yourself. Wasn’t it Aragorn’s explicit wish for us to enjoy ourselves tonight?”

You took the first clean jug from Boromir, accidently meeting his wet fingers in the process. A shudder ran through you.

“It was.”

“And you’re telling me you were enjoying this time here, working all by yourself, more than the festivities with your loved ones?”

You gulped. “I am telling you that I was only sitting around all by myself in the great hall and that, here, I could be at least somewhat productive.” You could feel his eyes on you and a sigh left your lips. “Alright. I felt like I didn’t belong there tonight.”

So much for not telling him.

“I saw Aragorn with Arwen and Faramir with Éowyn and I couldn’t stand the pity in their eyes anymore whenever they looked my way.”

“Why would they pity you?”

You set down another glass after drying it off, letting the question hang in the air for a moment.

Your voice was quiet when you spoke. “Because the man my heart is set on has not shown me an ounce of attention while I was there.”

The jug Boromir was currently washing slipped out of his hands at your little secret.

He should have known. There was no way he’d ever have a chance with you.

“I apologize for not paying you any attention.”

Your eyes widened. You hadn’t realized your statement was so revealing. Guilt was spreading in your chest as you saw his head hung low. He deserved to be happy, no matter with whom.

“No! No, I- I haven’t earned the right to tell you who you should or shouldn’t dance with. If she makes you feel light in your heart, then I support that.”

His green eyes met yours. “Me?”

Suddenly, you realized your mistake. He had not apologized for not returning your feelings. He was feeling guilty for not paying more attention to his friend earlier.

Oh no.

“You were talking about me?”

“My lord.“ You gulped, trying to find something, anything, that would ease the tension between the two of you. “It was not my intention to burden you with my feelings. But I am glad that they are out in the open, even if you do not return-“

At that, Boromir wrapped his arms around your shoulders, pulling you against his hard chest. You tensed up.

“Why would you think I do not harbor the same feelings for you?”

You held your breath.

“Who do you think ordered fresh flowers to your chambers last week?”

Slowly, you lifted your gaze. “That was you? I thought- I thought that was Samwise’s doing because he is the only one I ever told my favorite flower, so I sent a letter to the Shire to thank him but he-“

“The halfling told me. After I asked him.” After a few moments, a chuckle left his lips. “I do admit, I should have added my name. Or at least a hint that it was me who sent the flowers.”

“But I don’t understand! Did you never notice my accidental touches or my longing eyes or…” You stopped yourself when you saw the playful twinkle in the man’s eyes. Your cheeks were burning when you realized what you had just admitted.

“I did notice. But apparently, I misunderstood your intention. I thought you were just being friendly.”

You let your head fall against his shoulder, soft laughter falling from your own lips by now. “We should really work on our communication, my beloved.”

“What was that?”

You could hear the teasing tone, but you did not care. “I said”, you whispered into his ear, “that we should really work on our communication. My beloved.”

Boromir hummed, one of his hands wandering to the small of your back. “We should”, he mused, while he dried off his hands on the towel you were holding. “But first, I think I owe you a dance.”

He saw your eyes widen with happiness at the proposition and his heart skipped a beat.

Oh, the things he’d do to ensure your happiness.

The fingers that weren’t sprawled over your back, grabbed your hand. You could feel your heart beat against your ribcage.

“I apologize in advance for stepping on your toes”, you breathed out which earned you a soft laugh.

“I have survived worse, sweetheart. I got you. Just follow my lead.”

Nothing has ever been easier. You trusted him.

Boromir was invading all your senses, making you lose track of time. His scent, his hands touching you – they were so warm, you realized – his gaze flickering back and forth between your eyes and your lips, making you dizzy.

A gasp left your lips as the lord twirled your around before pulling you flush against his body, his hands settling on your waist, holding you steady. His eyes were locked on yours.

No words could describe what you were feeling right now, your whole body was buzzing.

“Kiss me.”

Boromir’s grip on your waist tightened slightly and he cleared his throat. “Are you certain?”

You nodded your head yes. “I am. Please.”

As if he’d ever deny you such a request.

The man cupped your cheek and leaned down. Your heart was racing and you fisted the fabric of his shirt. Your pulse quickened and you closed your eyes, trying to calm your breathing before his lips touched yours.

His lips were warm. Maybe everything about him was warm, you wondered. A little dry, too, but you didn’t mind.

It only took you a few seconds to fully relax into his touch. Every thought in your head was replaced with him.

A little whine tumbled out of your mouth when you two parted and Boromir took a deep breath before pressing a quick kiss against your lips once more.

He grinned at you afterwards. “How is that for communication?”

You chuckled and wrapped your arms around his middle, letting your head rest on his chest. “I’d like to learn how to communicate with you in every possible way.”

Taglist: @shadowhuntyi @asgardianhobbit98 @fizzyxcustard

-> if you want to be added or removed from my taglist, just shoot me a message or an ask 🩷

#boromir x reader #boromir #cuddlebug <3 #lord of the rings #lotr x reader #lotr imagine #lotr fic #reader insert

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quillofspirit · 5 months

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2023 fic recs

If there's one thing to know about me, is that I love to read! and I love to share the good fics, so I figured I would put them all on one list💚

pssst! it's my first time doing anything like this, so if you have recommendations for the format, please do leave them in the comments or drop me a message! thanks xx

Key 🍬 fluff 🧯 spicy 🌡️ smut ⛈️ angst 🌪️ all

For people I have tagged, please let me know if there is anything you’d like me to add or remove — like a link to another account. It’ll be my pleasure☺️

Lord of the Rings (and related)

⛈️🧯Fuck the Forbidden pt. 1 by @entishramblings

Boromir x mermaidfem!oc Teens and Up but read the warnings carefully 9,500 words

Now I want mermaids in everything. why aren’t there mermaids in everything? The descriptions are so well done, everything is so vividly easy to visualize, oh I just loved it.

I am so hyped for pt 2!!

🍬⛈️ Healing Touch by @ass-deep-in-demons

Boromir x fem!oc Teens and Up 4,350 words

My film studies degree was very happy about the descriptions of movement in this one - it’s a little specific but hear me out. It’s much easier to see the actors playing the scene when it’s described this well! THAT ENDING, I have to say I joined Legolas, and I don’t have excuses.

I cannot wait to read the rest of the adventures of Joanna!

🍬 I Might Need to Kiss You by @fizzyxcustard

Thorin Oakenshield x fem!reader 400 words

I was squealing, this is so sweet. like the perfect little pick me up when you need a reminder, and Thorin is nothing if not a good king to his subjects 😇

🍬 Sweet Conversations by @glassgulls

Haldir x fem!reader Teens and Up 5,360 words

did I almost break my mouse when I clicked on this? noooo

Would I do it again? approximately 5 times since ☺️

Who doesn’t love sneaking around and kissing pretty elves, especially when they propose the idea so nicely… Just read it, you’re welcome

⛈️🧯Transformed by @sotwk

Thranduil’s son OC x fem!reader Teens and Up 2,400 words

There are at least two werewolves! When I tell you I read it three nights in a row, just to truly catch all the little things that made me go absolutely feral this so lovely to read. Yes, there’s gore (only a little bit) and there’s angst, but there’s also dialogue that would be made into gifs were it a movie.

Pirates of the Caribbeans

🌪️Catch the Wind by eriathiel (@esta-elavaris)

James Norrington x fem!oc Explicit 418,000 words

101 chapters of epic, pirates, and sweetness. The definition of you will suffer and you will like it. I finished this in like two days, because I couldn’t put it down, like a child on Halloween night going through their whole bag of candy.

⛈️🍬 Fallen Through Time by eriathiel (@esta-elavaris)

Catch the Wind AU Mature Ongoing; 34,000 words

12 Chapters so far, but it’s probably going to make me want to read everything about Theodora again. I am very normal about this character. 😌

Other fandoms

🌡️One of Those days by @capricornafterdark

Jason Todd x fem!reader Explicit 750 words

Sometimes you need to be taken care of, and sometimes its easier to take care of others.

🍬Patience by @velvetcloxds

Charlie Swan x fem!reader Just straight cuteness 600 words

A cute yet serious conversation with Charlie

🌡️That Takes Trust Darlin by @capricornafterdark

Jason Todd x transmasc!reader Explicit 1,950 words

It takes a lot of trust to tell a person about your desires, and even more when you spend your time catching villains.

🌪️ What Happens After You? by StrengthBeforeWeakness

Ominis Gaunt x fem!oc Mature 219,000 words

A badass Ravenclaw, sweet sweet Garreth, and dark!Sebastian. I am tempted to say it’s almost a Hogwarts Legacy AU because the lore in this fic is so incredible, it feels new again.

These are my headers and dividers, please do not use them.

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thetempleofthemasaigoddess · 9 months

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One of a kind

Elrond x reader. This is a modern AU!

This fic is dedicated to @montyc @lady-of-imladris and @sotwk. You guys rock!!

*****

The small bookstore, situated in the oldest part of the city and semi-hidden between a laundromat and a grocery store, is a decidedly peculiar place. No volumes with brightly coloured covers arranged in alphabetical order or grouped by topic on the shelves, no new releases put on display on the front window, no section reserved to academic texts or books for children. It is a tiny, dusty space, with tomes of all sorts, sizes and shapes (!) piled in the corners or spread over tables; some look like they have not been touched for years, or are barely legible. It looks more like a pawn shop or a flea market than a bookstore, but the unassuming, modest appearance hides a veritable treasure cove: the store deals with rare and antique books, including many unique pieces, some of which are worth as much as the rent of a four rooms apartment. You adore it, and adore spending hours browsing around: you have been studying, and working with, old books ever since you were a girl, and in the bookstore you have found many precious volumes to add to your private collection; were it for you, you would never leave.

The sole downside of the store is its owner…

In a cool, rainy fall afternoon, you are wandering about as usual, inspecting the hundreds of books all around you, some of which are even piled under the furniture, given the lack of space, protectively holding the loot of today against your chest: a book printed at the beginning of the last century, in mint conditions, that many experts in the field considered lost. You know already that the store owner will ask a high sum for it, but the book is well worth it.

As you continue your tour in the barely lit rooms, the old parquet crackling under your feet, you find yourself walking by the counter: the owner, behind it, is discussing with a young man with dark hair, who you briefly, almost reflexively, glance at… and find yourself unable to look away.

He looks roughly your age, with the slender, strong build you would expect from an athlete, short hair the colour of oak wood framing the sort of face you had only seen in centuries-old paintings: he is simply dressed -jeans, a soft sweater, dark boots- but there is something elegant, even refined, in him. You move a few, hopefully unseen, steps towards him, to better look at him under the soft light of the old chandelier… and your eyes fall on the book the man and the store owner are discussing about; it is sitting on the counter between them, and when you recognize it, your heart skips a beat or four.

“So… how much could it be worth in your opinion, sir?” the man asks, his polite tone betraying a hint of anxiety.

“Hmm, let’s see...” the owner answers with the condescending tone you are used to, but still dislike “It is in fairly good conditions. I’d say… a hundred.”

The book you had chosen almost slips from your hands. A hundred?!?!

“So little?” the man asks, disappointment evident on his fair face “It is antique, I thought...”

“So it is, but what makes a book valuable is its rarity, not so much its age. This edition of your book was printed in more than five thousand copies, which significantly reduces its worth.”

“Oh.”

The man sighs, visibly saddened. “I see. A hundred is fine.”

The two men, engrossed in their conversation, pay you no mind, and you wait until the store owner has opened a drawer under the counter to take the money before making your move.

“If I may interrupt.” you intervene in your sweetest tone as you approach; the store owner glares at you.

“What do you want?”

“Simply to take a look at the book, if the gentleman allows.” you explain before addressing him directly “Do you mind? I am a bibliographer, and antique and rare books are exactly my field of study.”

“Of course.” he readily answers as he turns towards you, and for a moment you feel your heart tremble because of the soft, clever but kind look of his dark eyes, pink lips opening in a friendly smile; he is undoubtedly one of the most attractive people you have met in a long time, attractive enough to leave you speechless for a moment, but the weight of the book he is offering you in your hands quickly brings you back to attention. It is as you thought: a copy of The Annals of the Beleriand printed at the very beginning of the last century. And it is in perfect conditions!

“I had not seen one of these for years!” you exclaim, as usual unable to hide your excitement when a rare book is concerned “May I ask how you came by this?”

“It is part of the book collection we inherited from our parents.” the man explains; he has sensed your interest, and looks at you hopefully “Do you think it is worth more than a hundred?”

“I’d say! Normally, two hundreds would be a fair price for a book from this period, but for a particularity: it is said that the warehouse where the copies of this edition were kept was set aflame on the night before the books were supposed to be transferred and put on the market.”

“You are saying the books burnt?”

“I am; the fire very nearly spread to the whole street, according to an old newspaper article I read. Anyway, only six copies were said to have survived; including this, and another one which is in my possession.” you explain with satisfaction, and then offer your sweetest smile to the store owner, who has gone red in the face with anger and irritation “I am sure our friend here was unaware of this little detail, otherwise he would have never offered you such a modest sum.”

The dark-haired man’s smile, already aware you saved him from being swindled, grows even larger, and grateful; there is no need for words, and in a moment, you have allied against the owner. “And since you are clearly an expert on the subject, what price do you think I should accept?” he asks, his eyes boring into yours.

Ah! “I would say...” dramatic pause “A thousand.”

It is ten times the sum the man was going to accept, had you not intervened, and this makes him gasp with joy; the bookstore owner, on the other hand, looks on the verge of a heart attack.

“Of course, if the gentleman here cannot afford to offer such a figure, I know a few people who…”

“No, no, just a second!” the owner protests “The book’s conditions are not so satisfactory after all. I think seven hundred is…”

“A thousand.” your new friend interrupts him, still polite but clearly determined not to accept less than what he could ask for “Either a thousand or the deal is over.”

It is with great pleasure that you observe as the owner takes the agreed sum out of the drawer and rudely puts it in the hands of the client; on his request, he also writes a receipt for the sale.

“I’d like to buy this instead.” you state then, handing the man the book you had chosen, and your credit card “I think four hundred is a fair price.”

The owner glares at you; if looks could kill, friends and family would be already gathered to cry on your tomb. “It’s not up to the client to decide the price. Six hundred.”

“Four hundred and fifty.”

“Five hundred and fifty.”

“Five hundred.”

“Five hundred, all right.” he finally relents with a sigh, while you mentally pat yourself on the back; this is a fair price, and the one you had intention to pay from the start. You put the book in your bag, while the man next to you does the same with his money.

“Goodbye and thank you!” you say almost as one to the owner, still glaring at you both while he looks at the man open the door and let you pass first.

Once you are both outside, the dark-haired man smiles at you, full of joy and relief. “If we were a couple of teenagers, I would now high-five you.” he confesses “But since we are both adults, I’ll limit myself to thank you from the bottom of my heart, for your help.”

“It was a real pleasure.” you sincerely answer, while impulsively you offer his your hand “I am (full name).”

“Elrond Peredhel. Pleased to meet you.”

Elrond’s hand -the grasp firm but not painful, the fingers long and elegant… and naked, you cannot help but noticing, with no wedding or engagement ring on sight- shakes yours; the gaze of his dark eyes is so intense it makes you shiver… and the sensation is not at all unpleasant.

“How may I repay you?”

“There is no need, really; I can’t stand those who take advantage of other people’s ingenuity.”

“I agree, but thanks to you I earned ten times what I would have otherwise. May I at least buy you dinner?”

He is not asking you out, unfortunately, but you like his approach, the ability to recognize he is in debt without humbling himself; he has a self-confident, but not proud, bearing, this young man you find yourself liking more with each passing minute. Who knows, maybe he has other books to sell, and in that case you could meet again at the store…

“Thank you, but I really can’t accept.” you answer, forcing yourself not to take advantage of his generosity “Dinner would be far too much…”

“A drink, then?” Elrond insists, a friendly smile softening the insistence in his words “Wherever you wish.”

By now you can’t help smiling; why not, after all?, you ask yourself; he’s offering, and all you ask is to enjoy his attention for a while. “All right; if you are sure, thank you.”

You decide on a nearby pub. It has started raining, and Elrond covers both with his umbrella as you walk towards it, his boots and your sneakers advancing side by side on the wet cobblestone.

“You are a regular at the bookstore, I gathered.”

“I really am. The owner hates me, and the only thing stopping him from shutting the door in my face is the fact that I am his best customer, and I have brought many others to the store. It really is the best place in town when it comes to rare and antique books, which is why I put up with him.” you explain with a sigh, and Elrond smiles.

“Well, all the better for me.”

You reach the pub five minutes later, and soon you and Elrond are sitting at one of the round, lacquered tables; as a perfect gentleman, he lets you order first.

“Forgive me if I say so, but a thousand seems like an absurd sum for a book.”

“I understand you’re surprised, but believe me, that is a pretty standard price for what I usually deal with, and I have seen many volumes sold for much higher prices.” you eagerly explain; you like to talk about your job, especially when the interlocutor is clearly interested in what you have to say “Last year, a first edition of The Red Book of Westmarch was sold for a hundred thousand. And that is not the most striking case.”

“Hmm…”

Elrond sips his drink as he reflects on your words. “Would you be able to assess the value of any rare book? And to put the owner in touch with a potential buyer?” he inquires in the end.

“Of course, with a little time at my disposal.” you proudly answer “I know many collectors and bibliophiles, and even a few auction houses. Why, you have other treasures to sell?”

Elrond’s expression turns serious, almost circumspect, as he takes a notebook out of his bag, opens it and then offers it to you. “I think I can trust you.” he states, and you are taken aback at how proud, and sincerely happy, you feel because of that assessment “Here, tell me what you think.”

Listed on the pages of the notebook in a small and elegant calligraphy, under the title Ada’s books are more than a hundred volumes; of each, Elrond has neatly listed the title, the year of publication, the editor and the conditions - mostly perfect or very good.

And what a list! You feel your eyes widen as you scroll down the page and realize the content of this notebook is a veritable treasure cave. First editions, novels in languages that were only printed once, signed copies… if they are all, or even just half of them, genuine -which you can’t assume, no matter how friendly and handsome Elrond is; like any bibliographer, you are by now an expert in recognizing a forgery, and you can’t count the times the masterpiece you thought you had discovered was actually not even twenty years old- this is a discovery worth to be shown to all the experts in the field, and even to be exhibited.

“So? What do you think?” Elrond anxiously asks, and you make sure to look at him in the eyes before answering.

“I feel as if I had opened a cookie box and found all three Silmarils inside.”

His cheeks turn an adorable shade of pink. “Oh, come on…!”

“I am deadly serious, Elrond. This list… some volumes on it are first editions, and a few must be rare enough to be classified as almost impossible to find. There is at least a title, maybe two, for which a single copy was thought to exist until now! Eru… it is a veritable fortune! We are talking of very sizeable sums, if you were to sell them.”

“Please! Lower your voice!” Elrond urges you, discretely looking all around him.

“Sorry, sorry. It is just…”

You swallow the rest of your drink in a gulp; you are so excited that the hand holding the glass is shaking.

“I am sorry; when it comes to rare books, I lose the sense of moderation like some women do in a clothing boutique; I really am obsessed. My mother says this is why I am still single.” you admit, making him laugh “How did you come by this… collection?”

Elrond explains that his ancestors have bought rare books for decades, and that through the generations the collection, by now of considerable size and richness, was bequeathed to him and his twin brother Elros. Then, the expression of your new friend turns sad.

“Our parents were… taken from us when we were very young. We were kidnapped, in a sense, and then we were informed they had died.” he explains, catching you a bit off-guard; you can’t see how that tragedy is linked to the book collection, but that doesn’t prevent you from offering him your sincere condolences.

“I am so sorry, Elrond; it’s… it’s a terrible thing to experience, especially when one is so young.”

“It was. Now we are older, and we manage just fine, except… my brother fell ill, six months ago; very ill, enough that for a while we thought he would not… anyway, there is a cure that has a good probability to restore his health, but it is costly. Very costly - too much for me, and none of our friends can help in a way that would really matter.”

Even with the relatively good news of the cure, taking care of his brother has clearly taken a toll on Elrond; his sad, scared and still brave smile talks of a man who has spent more than one sleepless night wondering how to save the life of the only family he has left. Poor, poor Elrond, you think as you feel your heart break for him; you have already taken a liking to him, to his sweet smile and expressive dark eyes, but this poor man is dealing with problems you would not wish on your worse enemy, and that are taking a toll more on his mental equilibrium than on his economic situation.

“I am so sorry, Elrond.” you whisper; instinctively, and even though you have never been used to physical contact with people you have barely met, your hand finds his arm on the table, and gently squeezes it in consolation “I took care of my father for years before… before he left; I know how painful it is.”

“Thank you, (name). But there is no need for condolences; Elros will live, I know, I only need to help him, and there is nothing I wouldn’t do to in order to give him just one more chance. To sell our family’s book collection was a tough decision -all of it, should it be necessary- considering it is one of the few things we have left of our father, but my brother comes before everything else.”

Elrond smiles. “Thanks to you, that copy of the Annals will pay for two months of his therapy; so thank you, (name), thank you so much.”

You tell him you are happy you could help, especially now that you know what he will use the money for. “Maybe… maybe I could do something else.” you tentatively add, suddenly shy for a reason you can’t fully comprehend but determined to support Elrond in any way you can, for no reason but the need to make sure his brother receives the best of care, and the love and the concern you see in his dark eyes. “Could I borrow this list? Or could you make me a copy?”

“Why?”

“Even at first glance it is clear that you are in possession of a veritable gold mine in books, but I would like to do a throughout research on a few of this volumes. I need to consult a few database and maybe with one or two colleagues, and check with the auction houses to see what price we -you- could realistically hope to sell at, because sometimes simply there is no one willing, or able, to pay a fair price. You could tell me if there are volumes you would be more inclined to sell, or what sum you need for Elros’ next cycle of therapy, and I would do my best to find a buyer. What do you think?”

Elrond doesn’t think much, at the moment, judging by his overwhelmed expression. “I… I had thought about bringing one or two volumes at a time at the bookstore…”

“You could; but as you have seen, the store owner is the last person you could expect a fair payment from; if you let an expert -which I am, false modesty aside- help you, you will be sure no one is taking advantage of you.”

“And you could help me? You would?”

“Of course.” you reassure him with a smile “This is what I do. I usually take a percentage of each sale I help arrange, but don’t worry, I am relatively cheap - ehm, my fee is.”

You would be tempted to add you can repay me taking me out to dinner or something like that, but you don’t; even in jest it would be offensive, given what Elrond told you regarding his brother, and you have seen enough of him to know already he would be terribly embarrassed by your proposal. It would be highly inappropriate… for now, at least, and regardless of whether he would be inclined to accept or not. Who knows...

A quick telephone number and e-mail address exchange later, Elrond promises to send you a copy of the list before the end of the day, and you to get down to work as soon as he does.

“Meeting you was a gift from above, (name).” Elrond says “I am sorry you had to waste a whole afternoon because of me.”

“Believe me, I was happy to help.” you answer, as sincere as you have never been before, while you leave the pub together, under a sky devoid of clouds, the blue almost blinding “And I had nothing else to do, to be honest. I have walked my dog this morning and I, uhm, I am not married, you know, and so...”

“Well, all the better for me.” Elrond says, and then, realizing the implications, he blushes a fiery red “I mean… otherwise I wouldn’t have been able to consult you, and...”

He’s stammering, but he smiles when he sees you do the same, and finds again the polite, self-assured attitude you have already witnessed while he spoke to the bookstore owner; you have dealt with your fair share of rare books, you suddenly reflect, but he is the first real one of a kind you have ever encountered. “I’ll write to you as soon as I get home, (name).” he promises.

“Amazing. You’ll hear from me very soon, I promise.”

He hesitates for a moment -he is still blushing- and then kisses you on the cheek, his touch as delicate as a sparrow’s wing. You depart, stopping just once to look at Elrond’s elegant, slender form walking away, and then you set off for home, feeling happy for reasons that have nothing to do with the antique book stored in your bag.

Tagging as usual @starlady66 and @elvenenby.

#The Lord of the Rings #The Lord of the Rings: The Rings of Power #The Rings of Power #Rings of Power #Elrond #Elrond Peredhel #Elrond x reader #Robert Aramayo #Bellona's stuff

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emmanuellececchi · 5 days

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⭐️star⭐️

Tell me about one of your wips! Anything that's on your mind?

Thank you for the question! I have so many WIPS. I wish I could speak about every one of them. I am torn between talking about the one that is currently my obsession (hurt/comfort modern romance à la "Pretty Woman") or one of the two LOTR fic.

After thinking about it, here it is. The Momentous Wedding. It began as an answer to @konartiste who wanted someone to tell a few things to Denethor's face. I thought Eowyn might be the perfect vessel for all our outrage. And wrote this quick thing. It is in an AU of course.

Then I wanted to add more, to have a whole scene, with some more interaction between Eowyn and Denethor. Problem is, now I am planning to add: Merry and Pippin, because I am convinced those two would have been present at this wedding. And, in my headcanon, they brings hobbits gifts but also share some of their traditions with the young couple. I want to see what happens around this wedding and so dive in viking weddings and found a few traditions, both for bride and groom that would interesting. I want to see Faramir having to go through a kind of "initiation" because he is not from Rohan AND the people there are not just going to handle their best woman to him just like that. There will be games and challenges. I also want to add this little scene with Eowyn and a certain lonely bust in a library. I also have this relation between Lothiriel and Eowyn and thus let people discover how I see Lothiriel. I also want to describe a bit about Gondor or maybe Ithilien...

But I am still working on it. So, it is far from finished. none of those scenes are written, just notes and bits here and there.

All those ideas came from discussion with @konartiste, @from-the-coffee-shop-in-edoras, @frodothefair, the exchange between @scyllas-revenge and @sotwk, as well as @torchwood-99. I hope I didn't forget anyone and if so my humble apologies. this work is begining to look like a community piece of art and, to be honest, I am very happy with this. I just hope that what I write will be good enough for all those great ideas I received.

#lord of the rings #emma's writing

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emyn-arnens · 24 days

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Flashback Friday

@searchingforserendipity25 tagged me—thank you! <3

I'll share Shadow-song (T, Finrod & Sauron, ~700 words), an AU in which Finrod finds himself in Angband. Here's a snippet:

Finrod stood in the dark of his cell, searching. A hushed song fell from his cracked lips. Its notes buried themselves deep within the stones and mortar of his cell, probing for fissures and points of weakness. In whispered words, he sang of loosening, of breaking, of splitting, of falling free, of light piercing the shadows. The stones trembled at his voice, and his chains shivered against his skin. Dust trickled over his fingertips, pressed against the stone wall behind him. He scratched at a line of mortar with his fingernail as he sang, and a spray of dust fell upon his hands. He sang of the lashing rain throwing down great rocks in mountain passes, of the flash of lightning cleaving mighty trees in two, of the thunder of cavalry rattling the mountainsides, of the howling of wind splitting strong walls asunder. The stones of his cell danced and quivered in response, and dust and shards of stone fell like rain, biting into his bare skin. Finrod sang louder, until the stones shook with both the power of his song and the ringing of his voice. And then, in an instant, the stones fell silent and still, and his voice died in his throat.

Tagging @grey-gazania @sotwk @camille-lachenille @curufiin if you'd like to do this!

#tag games

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alicent-targaryen · 8 months

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ELF!JAMIE ▸ Fantasy!AU aesthetic board

inspired by @sotwk

#outlander #tv #jamie fraser #sam heughan #james alexander malcolm mackenzie fraser #james fraser #alexander malcolm #moodboard by ria #outlanderedit #jamiefraseredit

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blueberryrock · 4 months

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Wip tag game!

Thanks for the tag @lordoftherazzles and how did i get this notif so late 😭 but ahh i love these cause i always have a few rattling around in my head!

Rules: In a new post, post the names of all the files in your WIP folder, regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. Let people send you an ask with the title that most intrigues them and then post a little snippet of it or tell them something about it! and then tag as many people as you have WIPs.

Healing hands

Thranduil joins the fellowship

Tall ahsoka fic

Banana pancakes

Pt. 2 to secret librarian (i think that's the name i'll edit it if it's not)

Untitled sparring fic

Untitled coffee shop au

Untitled long fic

Im sure there's some that im missing but i just can't think of any rn

Tagging @blackknight-100 @blairsanne @sotwk @to-be-frank-i-dont-care @splintered-emotions hmm i cant think of people rn but if you're a creator who wants people to send asks about their works then consider yourself tagged 💪

#thanks for the tag!#My brain is broken rn

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middleearthpixie · 11 months

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Promise Me ~ Prologue

Summary: Friends since childhood, Gabriella has long held back her feelings where Boromir is concerned, as she did not want to risk losing his friendship if he didn't feel the same. But, then he is summoned to Rivendell, and the night before he is to leave, he stuns Gabriella by confessing his feelings for her as well.

But, war is coming and he cannot put off what he knows must be done. All Gabriella can do is wait for him and pray for his safe return.

Fandom: The Lord of the Rings (AU, Boromir lives)

Pairing: Boromir x ofc Gabriella

Characters: Boromir

Warnings: Some angst…

Rating: T

Word Count: 2.1k

Tag List: @sotwk @heilith @fizzyxcustard @evenstaredits @way-too-addicted-to-fandoms @emmyspov @finnofamerica @lathalea

If you’d like to be added (or removed) to the tag list, please just let me know!

“You can swing at me, you know. You are not about to hit me.”

“Don’t tempt me,” Gabriella grunted as she sat up. Her sword lay on the ground beside her, her arms ached from the effort of wielding it, despite the fact that it was made especially for her. Not only that, but it was commissioned by the man now standing over her, looking more than a little smug as he folded his arms over a broad chest.

“So, why don’t you?” Those thick arms unfolded and he held out a large hand with deceptively elegant fingers.

She lay her hand in his and let him draw her up. “I don't know. I suppose I fear hurting you.”

He chuckled. “I think it would take more than what you could deliver to hurt me, Gabby. Come, let’s try again.”

“No. I’m sore and tired and my arms might very well fall off if I so much as think about swinging that blasted blade even one more time.”

He moved to pick up the blade in question, then handed it to her. “I don’t know when the next time I’ll be able to spar with you will come, you know.”

“Don’t remind me, please.” She took the sword from him, carefully slipped it back into its scabbard, then looked up at him, squinting as the sun sinking into the horizon behind him temporarily blinded her. She blinked the spots from her eyes and looked instead at him. Boromir, oldest son of Denethor II, Steward of Gondor, and her closest friend in all of Middle Earth. They’d grown up together, and in recent times he was away from Minas Tirith more often than he was there. But when he did come home, he made certain to come by the tavern and see her. And if he planned to be around for more than several days, he found the time to work in a sparring session with her.

Come the sunrise, he’d be leaving. Rivendell was his destination and he would not say why he’d been summoned there, which meant it couldn't possibly be good. War was coming. She knew it. They all knew it. For the last several weeks, men had been working almost round the clock to attempt to fortify the city, to evacuate as many of the women and children as they could.

“You’re staring,” he broke into her reverie, a hint of amusement in his voice.

“At you? Hardly,” she snorted. “Why would I stare at you?”

A lie. Of course she stared at him. How could she not, when he was, quite simply, the handsomest man in all of Gondor? He was tall and broad of shoulder and chest, with hair the color of fresh honey and eyes the same green as a lush meadow after a spring rain. He was noble and proud and kind and strong.

And he saw her as nothing more than a friend. The sister he’d never had.

One dark gold brow rose ever so slightly. “Why, indeed.” He glanced up at the thickening clouds. “Let me see you home before the rains come.”

She nodded and they set off back toward the tavern not far from the inn. Her family ran said tavern, and lived above it and while her best friend Dora liked to tease her about someday marrying Boromir, Gabriella knew such a match was unlikely to happen. He showed little interest in any woman, and even less in the notion of marrying any time soon. Of course, the time would come when his father would decide it was absolutely time, and so would choose a suitable bride for his son.

And that bride would not be the daughter of the tavern keeper.

They made an odd pair as it was, but no one seemed troubled by it, and she valued his friendship above all else, so if friends was all they were to be, she would treasure it still.

“Do you truly have to go? It’s grown so dangerous to travel beyond the city walls.”

“We’ve talked about this, Gabby. And yes, I truly do have to go.”

She peered up at him as they walked. He was almost a head and a half taller than her, and always gave off that feeling of security. No matter what, she was safe with him and she knew it. He made certain she did.

“The side of my face grows hot.” He stopped and turned toward her. “Going to tell me you aren’t staring again?”

“Not this time, no.” She shook her head. “I am instead trying to find a reason to convince you to stay.”

“Gabby,” a hint of a smile pulled at the corners of his lips, “please stop. Staying is not an option. You know this, so please stop asking me to.”

“I know, I sound like a child and I pout like one, but I’m terrified something will happen to you. Something terrible.”

He caught her hands in his and her heart gave a mighty leap at the way the air seemed to crackle around them. His hands were rough from riding, and large enough that they swallowed hers. “I will be fine and when I return, you will laugh at yourself for being so worried.”

“And if you aren’t? If you don’t?” She looked up at him. “I know that sounds so ominous and dramatic, but—”

“Gabby,” he broke in gently, his normally guarded eyes softening as they met hers, “I will.”

Thunder rolled low in the distance as he held her gaze and her heart sped up as she whispered, “Promise me.”

“I promise you. And perhaps by then you will have finally worked up both the nerve and the strength to knock me down.”

“I most definitely will.”

He winked then. “Promise me.”

“I promise you.”

“Good.” He bobbed his head slightly. “Because I will be back. I have a very good reason to be, you know.”

“Well, yes, you have to take your place eventually as steward.”

“Yes, but that’s not quite what I mean.”

Her heart sped up again as his eyes grew softer still and the crackle in the air seemed louder now. Loud enough that she almost expected to see very real sparks shoot between them. The fine hairs along her arms stood and a slight, teasing chill ran along her spine.

He leaned over and their lips met in a gentle kiss that had her curling her toes in her boots and her fingers about his. His lips were so incredibly soft, much more so than she’d ever imagined, and she had to fight back the rising sigh as they moved against hers. The neatly trimmed hair of his mustache and beard tickled, but only for a moment as he tilted his head slightly, parted those soft lips, and the tip of his tongue eased between her lips to caress hers.

His one hand fell from hers to come to rest on her hip, then he eased that arm about her waist to tug her flush against him and her heart soared as his kiss deepened, as he bent her body back just enough. It wasn't her first kiss, but it was the sweetest she’d ever received and he drew back to press his forehead to hers, a sheepish smile playing at his lips. “I’ve wanted to do that for some time now.”

“I’ve wanted you to for some time,” she replied softly.

“So then you are not about to slap me?”

“Not this time, no.”

He chuckled softly. “Good.”

This time when he kissed her, there was no hesitation, and she melted against him as he wrapped her in his arms as if he’d never let her go.

The next morning, she slipped away from the tavern to head to the stables, where Boromir was readying his horse. She came around the corner, not wanting to startle him, and called, “I thought you’d be gone by now.”

He peered over one shoulder at her. “Trying to get rid of me, are you?”

“What do you think?”

He turned away from his horse. “I thought you’d be with the others to see me off, actually.”

“I will. But, I wanted a moment alone to give you something.”

“What’s that?”

“This.” She closed the gap between them and held out her hand. Coiled in her palm, on a delicate silver chain, lay a silver medallion with a bear etched into it.

He lifted puzzled green eyes to her. “Gabby?”

She smiled despite her heavy heart. “My father gave it to me when I was a child because I was afraid of the dark. The first night I slept in the dark alone, I was so scared, it took me forever to actually fall asleep. But, I remained in my own bed and left him and Mama alone and so he had this made for me. He told me it was a symbol of my courage and that the bear would watch over me on the nights when I was still scared.”

“I cannot take this.”

“You can,” she caught him by the wrist to turn his hand palm up, let the silver chain spill into the middle of said palm, then closed his fingers over it, “and you will. But, just so you know, I expect it back some day.”

“Are you certain?”

“I am.”

“Very well. If you’re certain.” His eyes softened once more. “Would you put it on me? I’d rather not mangle the clasp.”

“Of course.” She took it and, despite her heavy heart, smiled as he turned away from her. “You’ll have to crouch a bit, I’m afraid.”

“Oh, sorry.” He did as she said and bent his knees to bring him low enough for her to fasten the delicate chain about his neck.

He straightened up then and turned back to her, tucking the medallion beneath the neck of his tunic. “You are certain about this?”

“I am, yes. As I said, I expect it back, so now you have a reason to return.”

“I have more than one reason, Gabby. And I will return.”

Her eyes stung as she nodded slowly and whispered, “Promise me.”

“I promise you.” He bent to her, his kiss light and gentle and when he drew back, his eyes were soft. “I will be back.”

“You had better, Boromir.”

“I just promised you, didn't I?” He stepped back and caught the reins in one hand. “And I will be.”

She nodded, pressing her lips together to keep them from trembling. Her throat tightened. Her eyes stung. “Be careful, won’t you? It’s so very dangerous beyond these walls.”

“I will be fine.”

“I know. But I’ll still worry just the same.” She closed the space between them once more, easing her arms about his waist, and let her head come to rest against his chest. Beneath his tunic, his heart beat softly, and she desperately wished they had more time. She should have spoken up long before now, but she was so terrified of ruining their friendship that she kept her budding feelings for him carefully tucked away. But if she’d been brave enough to risk it, they would have had time to share more than a couple of tender kisses.

He folded her into his embrace and she bit down on her bottom lip at the gentle pressure of him kissing the top of her head. “I will be fine,” he whispered once more.

She nodded, although she wasn't nearly as confident and he held her for another moment or two, then, with a deep breath, pulled away. “I really must go now, Gabby. I’ve a long ride ahead of me.”

“I know.” She swiped at her cheeks, at the stupid, stubborn tears that refused to remain at bay.

“Don't cry,” he told her, reaching out to brush his thumb along her left cheek.

“I can’t help it. My stupid eyes will not listen to reason.” She swallowed hard against the lump in her throat and stepped out of his reach. “You should go. Everyone else is waiting to see you off.”

He bobbed his head and then swung up into the saddle. “I will see you soon, Gabriella.”

She managed a smile. “Promise me.”

He winked. “I promise you.”

“I’m holding you to it, you know.”

“I fully intend to keep it.” He clicked his tongue against his teeth, and his horse ambled down the path from the stable to the road.

She had planned to follow, to join the others in seeing him off, but as he grew smaller, she couldn’t bring herself to move. His scent hung in the air—leather and hints of horse and cloves—and as the silence settled about her, she finally gave up trying to hold back the flood of tears burning the backs of her eyeballs.

#Lord of the Rings #LOTR AU #Boromir #Boromir fic #LOTR fanfic #Lord of the Rings Fanfic #Fan fiction #LOTR fanfiction #AU #Boromir x OC #Is it hot in here?#Romance #Sean Bean

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