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thewulf · 3 months

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Little One || Aragorn

Summary: Request -I had an Aragorn request that I wanted to send you; if it’s something you’d be interested in writing I know it’ll be perfect (but if it doesn’t strike your fancy I completely understand)!! After reading your fic with the orc attack I was thinking about how Aragorn would respond to reader being injured defending the hobbits... Read Rest Here

A/N: Thank you for the request @fluentmoviequoter !! Had so much fun writing this, hope you enjoy :) Kinda angsty but hella fluffy as always :)

Pairing: Aragorn x Female Reader

Word Count: 5.1k +

TW: orcs, talks of blood, arrows, getting shot, yelling, angsty

You and Strider had been Rangers together for the better part of fifty years now. The two of you quickly found solace in the other. The two of you just seemed to compliment the other. What he lacked you picked up for him and vice versa. It wasn’t often he could find somebody who just understood him. So, he decided to keep you close but always safe.

He did what he wanted after all. He had a high enough ranking quickly. You were assigned nearly every patrol, raid, quest whatever the hell it was he did it with you. And you learned quicker than you had ever thought even possible with his aid. He wasn’t brutal on you, but he was not easy by any stretch of the imagination. He wanted you alive, so he trained you to stay that way. He had to be a little mean. A little too much sometime. For that was the real world. You couldn’t go out in the world as freely as one once could.

So, when Gandalf proposed the deal of getting the Hobbits from Bree to Rivendell he had agreed on the condition you could come with them. He wasn’t willing to leave you in some random village town in Eriador. No, he would never do that. Gandalf had agreed without a second thought thinking it was a good idea to have two Rangers instead of one.

You had decided fairly quickly that the Nazgûl was on your list of least favorite things in middle-earth you’d had the pleasure of coming across. You could deal with spiders and orcs buts these creatures were eerily different. Ice cold and terrifying, soul sucking. But you needed to remain stoic in the face of it all to help the Hobbits. The poor things were shaking they were so terrified. You’d tried stories of tales far and wide to shake their minds of their troubles, but it seemed no use as they only looked to the two of you in terror around every twist and turn.

When you stopped for the night to camp you’d noticed that Strider had led you deep into a dense forest. You’d never been the best at tracking, so you often led it to him. You really should’ve paid better attention before as you were often so reliant on his talents.

“I am off to gather a few plants for some tea. I will be back in an hour. Y/N, I trust they shall remain safe in your care?” He asked and you nodded without so much as a second thought.

“Of course.” You smiled to him, “Off you go. I know how mean you get without your tea.” That earned a hearty round of laughs from the Hobbit’s as they laid out their bedrolls for the night. It was nice to hear such a pleasant sound instead of hearing the screeching in the distance.

“I will remember that.” He glared at you with humor in his eyes before ducking into the night.

You turned back to the Hobbit’s with a stupid smile on your face not quite realizing how much you were giving way of your likeness towards the man, “Off to bed we go.” You shooed the silly little smirks right off their faces.

They all nodded quickly falling asleep without so much as a second thought. You were mighty jealous at the way they just did that. It took you far too long to fall asleep these days. Worry kept you up more than you liked to admit.

Thank whatever was out there for that worry that wouldn’t let you sleep as you heard the distant voices and branches breaking far off in the distance. Orcs. Had to be, they were so noisy. Your heartrate spiked as you heard them before you spotted them in the dark night. How in the hell had anything found you all the way out here?

“Up! Up!” You whisper shouted before shaking each of the Hobbits awake, “Abandon the camp we must go. Run” You grabbed for your sword and spare bow and arrow before ushering the small Hobbit’s further into the forest.

They ran ahead confused and disoriented having just fallen into a deep sleep but trusting you nonetheless. You knew you had made too much noise but did not quite realize how much the smaller ones were making as they ran.

You paused for a brief moment knowing your longer strides could catch up. You took a look behind you to see how in danger you truly were. The orcs hadn’t spotted your little group quite yet except one with keen eyes. Adrenaline shot through you as you saw the orcs arrow trained right at the back of Frodo’s head as he ran forward. He’d be dead instantly if the orc shot the arrow before you could stop it.

Panic shot through you as you ran ahead beside him pushing him to the ground with more force than you’d truly meant. You’d thought you were in the clear before the searing pain of being shot by an orc arrow throbbed through your shoulder blade sending you to the ground before you could think. Frodo rolled beside you which sprung Merry, Pippin and Sam into action as they pulled the two of you behind the thick trees of the dense forest. Fortunately for you it was mid-summer, and the forest was coated in dense foliage making it that much harder to find you and the Hobbits hiding in the trees.

Frodo looked more confused than upset before he saw the arrow protruding from your body. He’d understood instantly, “You have been hit miss Y/N!” Merry’s concerned voice only rose a few octaves as he saw the large arrow sticking right outside your shoulder. It hurt worse than it looked but you tried your best to bite back the tears as they were so unseasoned to such horrors in the world.

You looked down wincing at the arrow surely coated in poison. Thankfully you were only a few days out from Rivendell. You’d be fine… Strider not so much. Shuddering at the thought of the man who would be so mad you got hurt, you turned to the small Hobbit’s sitting in fear beside you.

Ignoring the arrow sticking out from your shoulder you sat up from the fall you took, “Listen, for there is not much time before they try and find us. Frodo and Sam run. Go find Strider. He will help end this swiftly.” You nodded watching them run quickly off into the forest. You’d sent Frodo off as he needed to be as far from the attacks as possible.

Wincing you turned yourself as best as you could towards Merry and Pippin, “Now, I need you two to be brave. You must snap this arrow as close to the wound as you can. I will fight these orcs off, but I cannot do that with this sticking out.” You huffed eyeing the rather large wooden arrow searing its mark in your shoulder blade.

Merry only gave you wide eyes as Pippin shook his head answering your request, “I cannot do that.”

“Not can I!” Merry agreed.

You looked behind you a little panicked seeing the orcs moving in closer. Far too close for your comfort. Lowering your voice, you leaned closer to them, “It does not matter any longer. Time is of the essence now. You must or we all die.” You glared at the two of them letting them both know quite how serious this was.

“Aye, turn away.” Merry stood with shaking hands grabbing at the arrow earning a hiss from your mouth. Pippin took his hands in his helping him get the leverage he needed to break the thick wood.

“All right.” You turned your head away clutching your hands into the earth trying to ground yourself. You had to fight back everything that was telling you to pass out as the arrow snapped in two under the hands of the much smaller Hobbits. A quiet whimper left your mouth as you tried your hardest to stay conscious. The orcs were close. You had to do something.

“Miss Y/N” Merry sounded concerned as he saw your face pale out and the orcs move closer, “Please be okay.”

You nodded blinking back the wave of nausea taking over your usually so agile self. This did not feel like your standard orc poison. You knew what that felt like and this was not it. This was moving faster than anything you’d been hit by them with, “I am fine mister Pippin.” You breathed trying to blink back the unshed tears. Pain only reminded you that you were alive. With another small groan you stood from the ground trying your hardest to fight the searing fire in your shoulder, “Stay quiet and hidden. It is best to attack them by surprise. Strider will be back soon. Let us try and wait this out as long as possible.” You whispered grabbing your sword from its sheath at your side.

You waited in silence as the first of the few crept into your field of vision. They must have been lost. No way a pack of orcs were this dumb. Or they were on a special mission. But you could wait no longer as they were likely to hear your breath or any sort of movement for he was a mere step away from you now.

Quickly, you sliced off its head without much of a sound. The loudness of the animals in the night covered up for its lifeless body hitting the ground giving you a second to recuperate and fight back the overwhelming feeling of pain now making its way down your arm.

When you killed the second and third the attention was finally on you. You were not able to be as graceful and let out a cry of pain as you had to use your bum arm to defend yourself. Darting behind a tree you narrowly avoided another arrow coming right for your head this time. But you didn’t have time to panic as the man you had been waiting for finally made his grand entrance. Just as you suspected it was over before it really begun. You were a fine Ranger. But Strider was an expert one.

Leaning back on the tree you let out the breath you were holding in. Never had you been so close to losing someone so quickly on a quest. Never had you been so close to being eliminated. You were usually so much better than this. Strider was getting in your head, and you were losing focus. A Ranger losing focus! That was unheard of. But Strider was your exception it seemed.

“You arrogant fool!” Strider yelled right at you as he came storming over to where you were leaning on the tree. He hadn’t seen the broken arrow in your shoulder nor the way you were holding your arm upright. He didn’t notice the sweat the coated your face or the distant gaze in your eyes. He was mad and he wanted to take it out on someone. That someone happened to be you.

You let out a cry in pain as he grabbed for the arm that you were holding gingerly. Even the smallest movement made it feel like your arm was getting ripped right apart. You had forgotten how painful poison was for it had been nearly fifty years since you’d been struck. The bastards made it as fast and as painful as possible. And whatever this stuff was seemed worse than before.

He moved his hand away from your arm after hearing your strangled cry. Pushing you back up against the tree, avoiding your injury, he felt the sticky liquid coating your outer garments. Blood. Of course, he knew what it was. He had only begun to panic as he saw the deliriousness in your gaze. You were hurt and badly at that. He was not used to this.

Frodo jumped in between the two of you, pushing Strider away just slightly, “She saved my life master Strider! Please have no anger towards her.”

His heart raced as he ordered the Hobbits to light a fire nodding at Frodo that he was done lashing out at you. He knew you needed a helping hand. Not one to hurt you while you were down. Gently, he pushed you down to the ground, “Sit down, nigol.” He’d all but ordered as he helped the Hobbit’s start a small fire. He couldn’t see your wound and you weren’t so forthcoming with information. That and he wanted to see it for himself.

A small smile came to your lips remembering the old nickname he’d given you, “Nigol… you have not called me that in quite some time Strider.”

Brushing your comment aside he asked you, “What happened?” As he sat down next to you waiting for the fire to glow so he could inspect your wound.

You turned towards him holding your eyebrows close together trying your best to bite back the pain, “Orcs happened is all. Caught a poisoned arrow to the shoulder.” Letting out a strangled sigh you sat further back against the tree.

“How did you get hit?” He clarified with more patience in his voice than you were used to. Maybe you looked worse than you felt because he never, ever cut you a break. And you appreciated him for that as you were still alive and usually avoidant of such injuries.

“Ugly bastard was aiming right at Frodo’s small little Hobbit head.” You frowned realizing if you hadn’t noticed Frodo would be sure as dead. You caught Strider’s smile at your crass language for he knew he would never grow tired of your fowl tongue. He loved it about you, “Had to push him out of the way and he nicked me instead.”

“I heard that miss Y/N!” Frodo yelled back at the two of you shaking his head at you, “Elves are not the only creatures with good hearing!” You only smiled as you watched them feed the small fire with more twigs and sticks. It surprised you that Strider ordered a fire for you’d just been ambushed. Who knew what else lurked beyond the trees that kept you hidden.

You let out a strangled laugh feeling the effects of the poison inch its way through your system. You watched as Strider looked at you with concern. It wasn’t often you were the one on the receiving end to such a look. You’d been under his wing for a better part of half a century. You’d gotten really excellent at not getting hurt. It must have been jarring to see you fighting the pain back with such a force. He’d never admit how much he had grown to love you. He didn’t like to see you in pain. Not a bit.

He sighed seeing the fleshy wound, “You must not be so careless next. I have trained you better than that.” He sighed inspecting the wound closely, “I must remove the arrow.” He spoke slowly feeling his heart drop at your startled expression.

You shook your head with a vengeance for you did not like that statement “We are but a few days from Rivendell. Surely they will have healers who can do that properly.”

He bit back the frown as he looked at your arm, “You will not have a few days if I do not get this out.” It wasn’t ominous but simply the truth.

“Is it not an Orc arrow?” You looked down knowing what his answer was going to be but trying to ignore it in your head was proving to be a challenge.

He gave you a solemn nod, “Aye, but it does not appear to be orc poison.”

All you could muster was a simple, “Oh.” Not thinking that was a possibility. You’d still concluded it was a different form of Orc poison. What could they possibly be using?

“It appears to be something much darker.” His frown only deepened as he was studying your wound. He had ripped your shirt where you had been hit to examine it closer. It was turning black far too fast to be the standard orc poison they’d become accustomed to.

You shuddered knowing the pain would be intolerable. You already seemed to be teetering on the precipice between the living world and the unconscious world, “Do your worst then.” You spoke quickly turning away and grabbing at a stick on the ground. When you tuned back he was just looking at you with such a sadness you couldn’t help but to ask, “What?”

He shook his head breaking the stare he had on you, “Nothing. Bite the stick. Don’t fight me. You know the rules.”. It had been a long time since you were at the mercy of his hands. You were but a young Ranger the last time you’d been caught in such a dreadful position. Back then you had medicine to at least dull the pain. This was going to be hell you thought as you placed the soggy stick in your mouth. Something to bite into, crucial to keep you from yelling too loud.

But you didn’t need to worry about that issue too much as darkness took over only a moment after he begun to tug on the broken arrow embedded in your shoulder. Of course, you didn’t catch the concern or the panic that overtook him when he saw you collapse into unconsciousness so easily. He didn’t waste a second longer after the arrow was removed from your shoulder to pick you up and carry you in his arms telling the Hobbits that they had to get a move on for your sake. With hushed complaints the group was off to Rivendell in the dead of night.

It must’ve been the pain overtaking the adrenaline that had subsided that made you fade out of unconsciousness. As your body stirred awake the sun rose in the sky before you. Strider only cradled you closer to his chest when he felt you squirming beneath him. A rather large sigh of relief escaped him as he looked down seeing you slowly blink your eyes back into reality.

“Did you enjoy your rest then?” Strider smiled most genuinely down to you for as much as he loved teasing you it sure made him happy to see you awake once more.

You cracked your own smile at his sarcastic words, “It was nice, thank you for inquiring.” You hummed squirming once more in his embrace. When he locked his hands around you it was only then that you realized he was carrying you like so and he had no intention of letting you out of his grasp.

He chucked seeing your startled expression. It was also new to him too and he really did not want to admit just how much he had enjoyed holding you close to him. It put his normally anxious heart at ease. He had long since found you beautiful. He knew he had loved you when he first heard you speak your mind to a superior all those years ago. For nobody, not a single man, had the courage to speak the way you did. And you had the skill to back it up. That was why he panicked seeing your injured silhouette in the forest. For if you were to go down he had no idea what he would do. You were so deeply embedded in his life he could not even begin to fathom a life without you in it.

He ran faster than he ever had before when Sam and Frodo found him foraging for plants. When they came in blabbering that you had been hit by an arrow he began sprinting in autopilot. It drove him mad feeling like it took longer to get to you. He was there in no longer than a minute to kill the ten or so orcs that were hunting you, the one he loved. He was a maniac when it came to protecting you. He hadn’t meant to yell so harshly at you but he was scared. Terrified of the thought of losing you, his person.

He noticed the pink beginning to return to your face and more relief flooded his overstressed system, “You are getting some color back.” He noticed as he held you closer, “That is a good sign. The poison must not be spreading.”

You let out a long yawn feeling the effects of it all starting to come over you once more, “That is good. It does not hurt as bad either. Just aches a bit.” Your eyes drooped as you tried to fight off the sleep that was overcoming you.

“Rest. Go to sleep, nigol.” He smiled down to you with nothing but love in those striking eyes. He’d been carrying you for hours already, what was another few anyway?

“Nigol.” You hummed remembering the times he called you that all the way back when you first had met him. He refused to tell you what it meant and by the time you finally met an elf you’d forgotten the nickname altogether, “What does it mean?” You inquired hoping he would indulge you this time as you were on the verge of unconsciousness.

He laughed, throwing his head back and all. You admired the way his dark hair framed his fair face as he looked back down at you. He was truly so handsome. It wasn’t fair he was placed in front of you like this and yet, was so unattainable, “I did not tell you fifty years ago, why would I tell you now?”

“I thought I would try.” You sighed, “Does it mean something bad? You only use it when I mess up.” You asked him once you concluded the worst. He often used that nickname early on when you two had been partnered up. It’s use seemed to fade as you had gotten more competent. Yet now when you had a bum shoulder rendering you useless he used it once more.

He shook his head quickly, “It is not bad. I can promise you that.” He eased your worried face quickly with his words.

“Well, I suppose I can accept that.” You didn’t want to push feeling oddly unlike yourself in his arms. Usually combative and wanting to pick a friendly fight you felt like doing anything but that. You just wanted to enjoy yourself in his embrace as you knew this moment would likely never occur again.

He knew you better than anybody else. He noticed how shy you were suddenly acting. Was it the nickname? Were you tired? Was the poison moving faster than he could? He looked down seeing you continue to fight sleep. Usually so powerful you looked helpless in his arms. His eyes softened as he realized how much trust you had to have in him to relax into him like so. You were always on guard, always ready. Frodo was alive because of that instinct. But now you were at his will and he felt more responsible for you than he had ever before.

“It’s Sindarin.” He admitted wanting to give you something more as you had given him exactly what he wanted, you.

Feeling your eyes getting heavier you replied with tiredness in your voice, “I had concluded that Strider. You did tell me you were raised by elves, remember?” Lazily, you smiled up to him laughing as best as your body would allow you.

“It is Sindarin for little one.” He finally admitted to you, “Or mouse.” He looked down at you nervously hoping you’d have a decent reaction to it.

“Mouse? Little one? I should be offended.” You grinned not taking offense in the slightest for you found it oddly adorable he had given you such a sweet nickname.

“Do not take offense.” He spoke quickly, “I did not mean it that way.”

“Relax, Strider.” You yawned once more feeling your head rest of his chest heavily. Sleep was coming on quick, “I am just teasing you. You are so easy to mess with.”

“Sleep now, little one.” He gave you another gentle squeeze letting you know he had you. It was alright. You could trust him as always. And trust him you did as you found yourself in a quick sleep right back in his arms.

“There you are.” Strider’s voice pulled you from the sleep that had overcome you on the road. When you blinked you were stunned to be laying in front of a fireplace in a rather grandeur room. You must have made it all the way to Rivendell which meant you had been out for days at this point.

“Are we in Rivendell?” You tried to sit up before his hands pushed you back down, gently, into the plush elven bed.

“You must lie still.” He ordered before answering your question, “Yes. You have been unconscious for nearly four days. Lord Elrond was unsure if you were to make it.” His eyes were laced with something you had hardly seen on the man in your many years of knowing him, fear. He looked scared, terrified. Yet almost relieved seeing you awake.

“Four days?” You swallowed back your surprise.

He gave you a quick not, “Almost, you even have Lord Elrond worried.”

You sighed, “I did not mean to do that.”

He moved closer, sitting on your bedside. Taking his chance he brushed your stray hair away from your face, “You always do that.”

You just looked up at him, “What?”

“It is just that you always care for others before yourself. As much as I love that about you. Think about yourself for once. Care for yourself. You are far too kind.” He spilled his thoughts to you for he was too tired. Too scared at the thought of losing you he was not going to hold back his tongue anymore for he knew he loved you. He wanted you. He couldn’t see you with anyone else but him.

You blinked back surprise at his outright confession. Sure, the two of you had danced around any feelings for quite literally years. But you would have none of that, as sweet as it was, “You did not say that when I slayed half an orc army with you.” You spoke with a hint of playfulness in your tone. It was your favorite game to play with the man.

He laughed a full hearty laugh. A laugh so pure, one you’d heard so rarely from the man. He only laughed like that when he was at peace. Happy. Comfortable and relaxed. A sight that you could really get used to.

“For that is true.” His eyes searched your for any sign of pain. Any sign that something was wrong. He could not quite believe you were finally awake and chatting with him like nothing had happened. Like you hadn’t been knocked out cold for that long. When Lord Elrond had started to get nervous. Strider was not dumb. He grew up with Elves and knew their tells. When an elf grew worried he knew things were not boding well.

You felt yourself shrinking under his gaze, “What? Is there something on my face? Because that would be embarrassing. I have been asleep for three days and you let something stay on my face for that long?” You rambled not quite sure what you were doing. He was making you nervous. Strider never made you nervous. But when he gave you that earnest look you completely lost yourself to him. How fickle your brain was behaving.

He bit back a laugh sensing your nerves, “No. There is nothing marking your face. I was simply admiring you was all.”

Was he trying to kill you? Your cheeks were sure to be a bright rosy, red for his second confession was bolder than his first, “Admiring me?”

“Indeed. I would not be the man that I am had you not been by me all these years. I thought I was going to lose you. But now that you are back I get to admire you.” He spoke with that soft voice he only used ever so often. It was fascinating to get to know an entirely different side of the man you thought you knew through and through.

“I deserve no such thing.” You laughed trying to shake off the seriousness of his gaze down on you. He did not find your statement the least bit humorous.

“While I do not agree I also do not wish to argue. How do you feel?” He changed the subject even though he might have enjoyed watching you squirm. Placing a cool hand on your forehead, he did not miss the small jump you had in response to his contact. Touches he had given you so often before had changed. Things had shifted between the two of you and for the first time in a long time he was excited. He had a purpose. His purpose.

You gulped back your argument and nodded in agreement, “I feel fine, will you let me sit up now or must I stare up all afternoon?” You quipped hoping your quick mouth would let him know just how fine you really felt.

Shaking his head, he held out a hand for your to take, “You may sit up, but take it slow.”

“I was shot by an arrow Strider. I did not get my legs cut off.” You took his hand letting him pull you up to sit next to him.

He rolled his eyes yet still held admiration in them, “That mouth will get you in trouble one day.” His eyes traced your face as you too just looked at him. It didn’t feel quite real that he could have admired you just as you him. Had you been blind?

You hummed in agreement not being able to take your eyes off his, “Not if you are there to protect me.”

It was he who broke the staring game going on between the two of you as he collected his thoughts, “Indeed, little one. There is nothing truer than that statement.” Gaining some courage, he took your hands in his giving them a gentle squeeze, “Please never scare me like that again for I cannot bear it.”

“I will try my hardest, as long as you promise to do the same.” You nodded towards him feeling bashful in front of the man you’d grown to love. The man you had only hoped to love you as he did. The man you never could have imagined felt the same. Yet here you were.

Giving your hands a reassuring squeeze, he simply nodded to you, “I promise, little one. I promise with my whole heart.”

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phonydiaries · 6 months

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Darling, Dearest, (Dead) - P x Reader

Warnings: MEGA-ANGST. DO NOT continue if you don’t want to see P bite the fucking dust or if you’re generally put-off by kind of graphic descriptions of death or injury. Also, once again set way early in the game because I am slow and just can’t confidently write environments and enemies that I haven’t encountered yet. If that all sounds cool to you, read on!

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The inner chambers of Venigni Works seem to you an absolute nightmare to traverse, and quite frankly a shitty way to organize a factory. You wonder if it could’ve been much easier to navigate back in its glory days, you know, before it was crawling with frenzied puppets lurking in each shadowy corner. In its current condition, you don’t much care for the constant flickering of lights or the disorienting heat of steam which blasts unceremoniously from faulty pipes as you pass them by. You’re almost annoyed at the ease with which P navigates, head held high as he ushers you down a creaking fire escape.

“If I’m being honest, I’m not entirely convinced that some puppet is worth all this…” you mutter under your breath, your grip tight around the rusty rungs of the ladder. The back of your mind anticipates a surprise attack any minute now; the factory is huge and cavernous and home to some of the most vile creatures you’ve had the displeasure of meeting. Personally, you would be thrilled to pack up and book it out of this place, dragging Mr. Venigni by the scruff of his beard but no. No, Pino is of course the more honorable and dutiful of you two, politely accepting the man’s fetch quest for his missing butler.

P looks at you over his shoulder and gestures between the two of you with one finger, his brows crinkling in accusatory question, mouth pulled into a pout. You groan, rolling your eyes.

“Obviously you would be a different story, don’t be daft. I’d sooner die than leave you in this dismal place.”

He huffs a bit at your response, shaking his head, but you know he’s grinning slightly beneath it all, pleased to know you think highly of him. Your feet meet the ground with a damp thud and you allow P to take up the lead again, starting down a winding tunnel. The sound of your steps carry here, and ripple like ghosts through the thick air. It’s dimmer here as well, and makes you a bit uneasy, though you would not admit this to P. Instead, you pipe up, hoping to distract yourself from the eerie feeling which settles uncomfortably in your stomach.

“I think when we get back home the first thing I’ll do is sleep. All day.” You say, imagining that you are not here in this sweltering labyrinth of rust, but instead wrapped in cool silk sheets at the hotel, lazy and dozing. Any excursion for stalking purposes was bound to tire you out, and you often yearned only for rest upon returning home. Being a puppet, P couldn’t fully appreciate this, but he seemed happy enough to stay with you while you slept, reading at your bedside or sometimes even curled up with you, an arm thrown lazily around your waist.

“What will you do?” You ask. Your puppet thinks for a moment, then holds both hands out in front of him, fingers splayed in playing position, thunking against the air. He presses his lips together and hums a few somber notes, his eyes lighting up at the idea.

“Of course, you and that piano. Ever the tortured artist, you are.” You tease, nudging him in the ribs. He nudges back. You both chuckle softly and allow your gazes to linger on each other, just barely, before your attentions snap swiftly back to the task at hand.

As you endeavor through the claustrophobic halls, a hollow sound of tittering stops you in your tracks. Your head turns, but you see nothing moving in the dark. You tug at P’s coat and place a finger over your lips. He heeds your warning and glances around, eyes narrowing as he peers down the hall. The tunnel is all echoes and distorted reflections. It’s quiet suddenly, too quiet, as if whatever you’d overheard was now acutely aware of your listening.

P’s hand hovers over his weapon, and you follow suit, both drawing your blades slowly. A few beats of silence pass. Then a few more. At last, P’s posture relaxes some, and he motions down one of the winding paths with a tip of his head. You nod along and move carefully, but with the echoes of your steps the tittering returns, louder, faster, reverberating ceaselessly through the cramped space. Looking over your shoulder you’re met with the chilling visage of several bisected mannequins crawling towards you, their time-worn faces turned up in mindless anger. One clammy hand reaches for your foot and you frantically crush it beneath your boot, the sick crunch of fingers ringing in your ears.

As P’s eyes dart back at you, more of the wretched creatures are already piling upon each other, their creaking limbs tangling together like spider’s legs as they stretch towards you. You lurch forward, shoving your puppet sharp in the back shouting, “Shit! Go!”

The two of you sprint down the hall, the ugly click-click-clicking of the mannequins trailing close behind. As you nearly crash head-first into a dead end, a standing enemy, fully formed and armed, makes a swing for your head. With a yelp, you smash the hilt of your sword through its head, leaving a deep crater in place of its dead eye.

P whistles quick and sharp and points in the direction of a flashing light in the distance, offering refuge from this particular chamber of darkness. He ushers you towards him, frantic and wide-eyed with concern. You waste no time making a mad dash for the exit, your feet close on his heels. Just as you’re about to escape miraculously unscathed, practically touching the end of the tunnel, something pushes you to the ground.

The thing lands on your shoulders, a mechanical hand shoving your head against the floor, its worn-down fingers snagging in your hair. You make a cheap grab for your blade, but it’s knocked out of your grasp, skittering across the floor and away through a grate. A dull and throbbing pain begins to radiate from the center of your face. You reach madly behind your head, clawing away at whatever nightmare is currently wailing on you from above. As it lifts your head, rearing back and preparing to slam your face into the floor once again, it’s ripped away from behind.

Gasping, you push yourself up onto your elbows and watch as P grabs the mannequin by its arm, bashing it brutally against the wall. It shatters to bits in front of you. You scramble out of the tunnel, still reeling to catch your breath.

As your palm presses into the ground, seeking stability, P approaches and extends his arm to you. His face is streaked with worry, but he offers you a familiar twinge of a smile, oil-specked cheeks rising just-so. You know it’s meant to be soothing, and in a way it works; you do feel safer with him around, even at the worst of times. A thick curtain of dark hair falls over his eye and you resist tucking it away behind his ear. You grab him by his outheld forearm in a less-than-elegant roman handshake and he hoists you swiftly to your feet. His face hovers around yours, inspecting it meticulously for signs of harm. He pauses for a moment, and his finger sweeps delicately across the bridge of your nose, coming away bloody.

“Dammit…” you mumble, and swipe the back of your hand across the broken skin, leaving a thin smear of blood in its wake. You grimace, unsure if it's broken, but you wouldn’t be surprised. P tips your chin upwards in both hands, tilting his gaze every which way. His brows knit in concentration, assessing just how much he should be fretting over what is -in the grand scheme of things- a miniscule injury. You capture his hands in yours and squeeze gently.

“Pino, it’s fine.” You assure him. “And could’ve been much worse. If not for you.”

At this, his eyes waver towards the ground, humble as ever as he offers a one-shoulder shrug. His modesty is infuriating. Your palm cups his cheek, turning his face back in your direction.

“I mean it.” You say, with fierce sincerity. You’re not sure he ever truly grasps the scope of his own bravery. Perhaps to him it seems only the dutiful thing to do, but you hope some bit of your appreciation, of your deep fondness for him is conveyed. He has stood between you and death more times than you can name.

Your thumb drags softly along his cheek and your head dips in to meet him. From so close, you can feel his breath just barely grazing your skin, and as your lips brush there is an awful succession of sounds one after another.

First, is the dreadful creaking of a long-worn machine, rippling along the walls in fruitless warning.

Next is a gut-wrenching crunch, and the awful scraping of metal against metal.

Last is a voice haunting and hopeless, some pained cross between a gasp and a choke, forced from Pinocchio’s lungs.

The chilling sound touches your lips, and for a moment you’re not sure if you or he are its origin. But this soon becomes achingly clear as you look down at the gruesome scene before you. A great rusted hunk of scrap, at least a foot wide, protrudes from P’s chest. The very edge of it grazes your clothes, just barely piercing your skin. You turn your gaze upwards and your heart falls. P looks back at you, through you, his eyes wide, mouth agape, the corners of his lips twitching in shock. You can’t recall ever seeing him so frightened, not even once.

The hand that’s still holding you tightens to such a degree you feel bruises begin to form along your arm as the weapon is yanked cruelly from its lodging in the puppets chest. A deafening shing reverberates around you.

P crumbles to his knees immediately; the weapon being the only thing holding him upright. A hulking enemy emerges from behind, spurting steam, it’s heaving limbs clanking together in awful dissonance. You reach instinctively for your weapon but find it missing from your previous dust-up. Thinking quickly, you pull P’s sword from his belt and land a blow to the monstrous head of your attacker. It’s not fatal, but you have not the time nor wherewithal to execute a proper hit. The thing staggers backwards long enough for you to haul P’s arm over your shoulder. You kneel beside him and lift with all the strength you can muster, grunting at the exertion. As your enemy advances, you manage enough of a standing position to move forward and you. Fucking. Run.

You don’t know how you do it. You can’t explain what numbs the burning in your legs, the throbbing pain in your head, or the sandpaper-rough raggedness in your lungs as you book it down the hall. You’re still terribly lost, and in a frenzy you duck frantically in and out of alleyways, taking your turns sharp and reckless. Frequently your clothes catch on the lip of a door or a bit of exposed machinery and your skin is quickly rubbed raw, paper-thin streaks of crimson cross-hatching your limbs.

As you move, your surroundings begin falling into a haze, your mind slowing to accommodate the wickedness of physical strain. Puppets creep out of the darkness and you raise the sword of your fading companion in defiance, hacking away with a blind fury. You’re plagued by faraway cries of anguished exhaustion and far too late realize that they hail from your own mouth. Oil spatters across your face, stains your hands and clothes, mixing so easily with the streaks of blood which run from shoulder to wrist.

As the unceasing sounds of the factory’s monstrosities die down, finally outrun, you collapse against a wall. You throw your head back as you gulp down air, and even this stings. Hair clings to your face, sticky with sweat, and you tremor under the weight of Pinocchio’s body. You look at him, struggling to stand, and imagine him a staggered princeling, a circlet of blood and silver dripping from the crown of his head. You push his hair back away from his face. He’s in a state like you’ve never seen him. The vibrant blue of his eyes is dulled, a stormy gray overtaking them as they peer bleakly at everything and nothing. His mouth comes in and out of a tight grimace, allowing only staggered breaths which sound to you more like the wheezing of a dying machine. His head lolls against your shoulder, his eyelids fluttering. At this, you swat at his cheek with your open palm.

“Hey- stay awake, now! I’m not done with you!” You snap, shaking his heavy head in your hand. He shudders with exhaustion but obeys, his weary gaze falling to you. The guilt swelling in your gut nearly kills you. It’s torture, you think, bearing witness to the condition of this poor boy, hardly conscious. You wrack your brain as your eyes dart wildly from wall to wall. There must be a way out, a path to safety, somewhere he can be tended to before it's too late. With a start you realize you recognize one of the winding paths before you. You’ve seen it before, yes, yes! You came this way at the beginning; the stargazer can’t be far away.

“I’m getting you out of here.” you mutter, in honesty more to yourself than to him. “Everything… everything is going to be just fine.”

Groaning, you heave yourself away from the wall, P tumbling unceremoniously along with you. You feel sorry for making him stand, much less run in such a fractured state, but you have no choice. You persist, and his heels drag heavier and stiffer with each step. The enormous weight of it all staggers you both, practically doubled over. You trudge through a tunnel which eventually lets out at a murky pool of corrosive water. You stumble through the shallows, readjusting your weight in a fruitless attempt to find some configuration that doesn’t feel so unbearable to the both of you.

As you do this, P’s arm slips from its place over your shoulder and he crashes into the water below, knees buckling. Panicked, you crouch in the muck, wrapping both arms tight around the puppet’s chest. You heave him out of the water, the tendons of your fingers straining as you claw at his soaked clothes. You manage to drag him onto the gravelly shore and immediately collapse beside him. Breathing hard, you cradle his head in your hands, wiping his face clean of all the grit and grime you’ve endured. He hardly responds to this, a miniscule twitch in his eye the only sign of life. Your chest tightens. You’ve come so far, gotten so close, and yet a terrible truth is beginning to dawn on you.

“Can’t you get up?” You beg, your voice wavering. “It’s not far I can-I could-” you stammer. You can what? What can you do in your condition? The puppet lying before you doesn’t budge, though you swear in his eyes there is something, a longing, a desperation to live; a fear of what awaits him should his story end here. Your eyes sting. “Fucking get up, please!”

Your throat burns as your idle cries echo across the dark pond. Beleaguered sounds leave P’s cracked lips, pained whimpers, breaths that seem to catch on the mechanical gore in his chest, strained and splintered. His face is that of a strangers, glassy silver eyes and pallid skin, the color in his lips shifted from pale pink to a frigid blue. His gaze doesn’t meet yours, eyes pointed upwards at the cavernous ceiling, seeming to stare past everything. You press your forehead to his, cold and clammy. In your mind you recite prayers, half-remembered, in panicked worship of whatever god cares to listen.

“Please. You can’t leave me alone.” Foolishly, you hope that guilt, pure obligation will keep him tethered here; perhaps strike up that deep-rooted sense of crushing responsibility. It’s a selfish appeal. You don’t care.

Suddenly, P gasps and his hand searches frantically for you, tremoring as it clambers blindly up your arm. His fingers bump against yours. Before he’s able to thread them, you feel them fall limp.

Little by little, so does the rest of him. His limbs go slack and his head rolls to the side, chin just grazing the edge of his shoulder. His eyes freeze half-lidded and cloudy, his lips part barely in echo of a final breath. He is the striking image of a fallen angel, lying pale and languid in a puddle of pitch darkness.

Time screeches to a halt. The air stands still and acrid around you, the unceasing sounds of motors and the turning of gears fade into a dull buzz. There is a dead boy in your arms.

Where you expect a piercing and unrelenting grief there is nothing. Numbness. An absence of thought or feeling or sense. In an unthinking daze your fingers fold together over his chest, trembling and cold and marred with viscera. The crater of a wound is large enough that it swallows both your hands up, and you stare into the ruins of your companions heart blankly. This feels wrong, violating, like the desecration of a fresh grave. It turns your stomach and still… you press down once, hard. Something cracks under the weight. The boy is still. You push again. Nothing. You push again.

And again.

A sickening thunk accompanies each futile chest compression, along with a shooting pain in your wrist, a hitch in your breath. You don’t let up until the palms of your hands come away sliced and bloody, your face wet with salt and oil and mud. What an awful shame; despair has made a madman of you.

It’s pure bodily exhaustion which finally forces you to cease this miserable ritual. Your head crashes, throbbing, against your departed’s cold stiff chest. Your hair falls in a matted sweep over your eyes, and you stare through the curtain at nothing. The scene is haunting and dismal in its strange beauty. Your bodies both lie limp, entangled at odd and unnatural angles.

You hold no concept of what’s to come. Returning to the stargazer alone is simply not an option. The thought of facing Sophia, much less P’s father after this makes you want to vomit. Your eyes fade back into focus. The silhouette of your puppet’s discarded sword in the water whispers to you intelligibly, bloodthirsty and cruel. Your hand, now numb to the dull pain the water inflicts, closes shaking around its hilt. Wrecked beyond recognition, you stagger to a standing position and will yourself not to look at the dead boy at your feet. You can’t bring him back. You may not make it out of here alive. You may not make it out of here at all.

But you are armed.

And you are angry.

And you will kill whatever unfortunate thing crosses your crimson path.

#cpr doesn't work on puppets #fic brought to you by the cutscene where joel is impaled in tlou #and when frodo gets stabbed in fellowship #lies of p #lop #lies of p x reader #pinocchio x reader #angst #my writing #lies of p fanfic #hurt without comfort

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mads-weasley · 2 years

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By Your Side

Aragorn x Reader

A/N: Hey y'all! This is my first ever Lord of the Rings fic so I hope you like it! I do not own any rights to these characters!

Summary: Aragorn and (y/n) keep their feelings hidden until the battle at Helm's Deep makes them realize how important the time they have is.

Warnings: mentions of war, blood, death, fluff, gore? idk

Helm's Deep was overwhelmed with frantic people trying to prepare for the battle ahead of them. The Uruk-Hai were on their way, and much needed to be done. After rounding up the able-bodied men, the remaining members of the fellowship began getting themselves ready for war.

(Y/n), one of the last remaining Dúndain and the 10th member of the fellowship was sharpening her sword in the armory when Aragorn silently entered. He decided to watch her, leaning against a wall out of sight. When he almost encountered death a few days before, the only thing that kept him going was her face in his mind, reminding him he couldn't give up.

Over their journey, he had unexpectedly fallen for the young (y/h/c). Her kindness, beauty, and amazing personality drew him in, and her skills in battle were the nail in the coffin for him. He knew he loved her from the moment they fought the Uruk-Hai the day they lost Boromir.

"I thought you were gone," she said softly, sheathing her new blade.

With a sigh, he stepped out from his hiding place. "Me, as well."

Her eyes raked his frame, studying his ruggedly handsome appearance as if it might be the last she'd see it. Her world had shattered when they'd assumed him dead, and now that he was here, all she wanted to do was tell him how she felt. Snapping out of her trance, she grabbed chainmail from the rack, sliding it on quickly.

"10,000? Are there really that many?" She asked uncertainly as she peered into his icy blues.

Aragorn walked closer, stopping directly in front of her. "Yes. Isengard has emptied."

With a slow nod, she reached for her jerkin, but he beat her to it. Giving him a look of confusion, she tried to gently take it from him.

"Let me help you. Please." He pleaded, eyes soft.

"Alright."

He held it out in front of him, allowing her to slide each arm through it. After it was on, she turned to face him, her eyes never leaving his as he slowly tied the jerkin together. She tried to not let their close proximity get to her, but she could feel the warmth of his touch through the mail she wore.

When he got to the top tie, (y/n) gave in and placed her hand atop his. Aragorn's face lifted, realizing they were merely inches apart. His eyes flickered to her lips, and his heart began to race when she did the same.

Both leaned in slowly, but just before their lips met, Gimli's loud voice could be heard from the stairwell.

"I shall beat you this time, elf." He announces with a chuckle.

Quickly backing away, (y/n) grabbed her belt and sword off the table as she muttered, "I-I've got to go make sure the men are ready," refusing to meet his eyes.

The woman couldn't stop the pounding of her heart as she bounded up the stairs, passing Gimli and Legolas without a second glance. Aragorn watched her figure disappear, cursing under his breath. At that moment, he vowed to share his feelings with her if they survived the coming battle.

Atop the wall, overlooking the hordes of Orks marching towards the great city, (y/n) stood beside Gimli, and found herself thinking back on the moment she shared with Aragorn hours earlier. She chewed on the inside of her lip, deep in thought. Having caught on to the woman's anxious habit, Gimli gently reached up and took her hand, causing her to look at the dwarf.

"Don't worry, lass. We'll be alright as long as we've got each other's backs." He said, staring up at the darkening sky.

Sighing, she ran her free hand down her face. "I'm not worried about the battle...well-I am, but..."

Gimli smiled softly, suddenly understanding. "Does yer worry have to do with a certain Ranger?"

(Y/n) didn't respond, only taking another deep breath as a blush crept up her neck.

He chuckled at her attempt to ignore him. "I knew it. Don't ya worry, (y/n), my lips are sealed."

"I know how I feel towards him, but-"

"But what?" the dwarf asked.

"I don't know, Gimli. Perhaps I am scared of where it might go."

"You are one of the most fearless warriors I know. Do not let something like love scare you, lass. Yes, it can be uncertain in the beginning, but it is completely worth the jump."

Looking at the dwarf, a small smile appeared on her lips. "Thank you, friend."

Hours later, Sauron's army could be seen in all of its terrible glory. The remaining fellowship members stood on the wall once again, surrounded by Elven archers. As the enemy got within a hundred feet of the wall, rain began to fall, soaking their armor and chilling them to the bone. (Y/n)'s mind drifted but was snapped back to focus at the sound of Aragorn's voice speaking elvish.

"Show them no mercy, for you shall receive none."

A loud roar was heard, and Gimli began to hop, trying to see over the wall in front of him.

"What's happening out there?!" He asks Legolas, continuing to jump.

The elf suppressed a smirk. "Shall I describe it to you?" Gimli looked up as he continued. "Or would you like me to find you a box?"

Gimli stared at him for a few seconds before breaking out in a laugh, and soon the other two joined in. Their fit of laughter was interrupted as Aragorn appeared to (y/n)'s right, gently tugging her towards him to speak privately. She tried to ignore the sensation of his touch as she allowed him to lead her a few feet away from Gimli and Legolas.

"Here," he said softly, handing her a beautiful and lightweight elvish blade. "I know your sword was destroyed when we fought against the wargs on our journey here."

She took it from him, inspecting its craftsmanship. "It's beautiful. Thank you," she whispered looking at it in awe.

"Look, (y/n/n)," Aragorn started, placing his hand on her upper arm. "Be careful, please. I know you are more than capable of defending yourself, but I don't know what I would do if something happened to you."

His touch, along with his loving words sent warmth through her body. (Y/n) reached up with her free hand and cupped the underside of his jaw, causing his eyes to flutter shut at her touch.

"You as well. We have much to discuss after this."

Aragorn's grey-blue eyes shot open, a small smile finding its way onto his face. "Yes, we do."

He moved closer, leaning his forehead on hers as they simply took in the presence of the other. (Y/n) could feel her heart racing from both fear and excitement, but she just closed her eyes, relishing his touch. Both knew this could be the last time they'd be this close and didn't want to pull away.

Another Orc horn sounded in the distance, and Aragorn pulled back slightly, cupping her cheeks. "Be safe. I shall see you after the battle."

Planting a soft kiss on her forehead, he backed up and focused back on being a leader. He unsheathed his sword as the Uruk-Hai began beating their weapons against the ground.

By the time (y/n) got back to her position beside Legolas and Gimli, one singular arrow had been released, embedding itself in an Orc's neck. There was silence until Aragorn's voice broke through.

"Hold!" He yelled, trying to reign in his frustration.

Within seconds, the Orc's body collapsed, and with a shrill battle cry, their commander ordered them to march.

The battle for Helm's Deep had begun.

The battle was raging around (y/n) as she kicked an Uruk off a ladder, sending him to his doom. Hearing the war cry from another, she spun around, blocking its strike that was aimed at her head. With a quick slash to its legs, she brought it to its knees before taking its head with her new sword.

Glancing up at the rest of the wall, she sighed in relief to see Aragorn driving his sword through an Uruk's abdomen. She watched as something caught his eye from the ground before his attention turned towards her. Making eye contact, she could see the worry on his face from their distance. He started running towards the woman, yelling elvish.

"Bring him down, Legolas!" He cried, looking down at the Uruk with the sparking torch.

Following his line of vision, (y/n) cursed under her breath when she saw where it was headed: straight for her position on the wall.

She wanted to go to Aragorn, but she had to try and get everyone near her to safety first. "Everyone get back! Move!"

As she shoved men away from the area, she glanced down to see an arrow land in the Uruk's shoulder, but it did not stop.

Aragorn's voice pierced the air again. "Kill him!"

Slicing through multiple Uruk coming over the wall, the woman ran one through with her sword, throwing a dagger at another, hitting it square in the chest.

"Kill him!"

Another arrow in the opposite shoulder had no effect on the creature, and right before it dove towards the wall, (y/n) heard Aragorn call her name. Meeting his eyes as he ran towards her, she smiled softly just before a loud boom filled the air and everything went black.

Ringing. That's all that filled (y/n)'s senses. Her body ached seemingly everywhere as she opened her eyes. Vision swimming, she flipped over onto her back, struggling to breathe. When the movement made a splash, she became aware she was laying in a pool of water.

She lazily glanced up and saw the wall high above her. She then realized she had fallen from the top, and sat up slightly to look at the damage the bomb caused.

She was dazed, but when she saw the large part of the wall missing, her mind cleared instantly.

Glancing at her surroundings, her heart dropped when she saw Aragorn's unmoving figure in the distance. She wobbly stood to her feet and she was so focused on getting to the lord that she didn't notice the Uruks gaining behind her.

"(Y/n)!" A voice shouted from above. Spinning around, she looked up in time to see Gimli jump off the remaining wall, landing on a group of Orcs that were mere feet from her.

She rushed towards the dwarf, ready to fight the hoard with him. Thankfully her sword hadn't landed far from her, so she picked it up and began slashing at the Uruks. The water came to just below the woman's knees, making it hard for her to move.

They were soon outnumbered, and Gimli was kicked down into the water. Trying to get to him, (y/n) became distracted and didn't see the large shield coming her way. It roughly made contact with her chest, sending her down into the water with a splash as she gasped for air.

The Uruks continued to advance and she struggled to stay above water as they stepped on and over her to get deeper into the fortress. Everything sounded muffled to (y/n), whose lungs began to burn from being deprived of much-needed oxygen.

Just as darkness was about to overtake her, a strong hand grabbed her by the front of her jerkin, pulling her up out of the water. She gasped for air as her rescuer called her name, placing their hands on either side of her face.

Coughing and sputtering, she looked up to see Aragorn with worry etched on his face.

"Are you alright?" He asked softly, eyeing around them for any Uruks that slipped through the elves.

(Y/n) nodded slowly as she got used to the familiar feeling of air in her lungs.

He began scanning her body, looking for any obvious sign of injury. When he pulled his right hand away from her cheek, a sticky crimson substance coated it.

"You're bleeding," he said, panicked.

Finally getting her full composure back, she shook her head and smiled softly before looking back at the battle. "I am a warrior. A little blood won't hurt me. We still have a battle to fight, Aragorn."

He tucked a stray piece of her blood-stained hair behind her ear. "Be cautious. We still need to have our talk after this."

"I can't wait, my lord."

(Y/n) found her sword and began walking back into the fray as he did the same.

"Fall back!"

At the order, (y/n) followed her friends into the throne room. They quickly barricaded the door with whatever they could find as Aragorn spoke to King Théodan.

Before they knew it, the remaining leaders were mounting up to ride out into the Uruk-Hai. (Y/n) looked to her right at Aragorn, who was already staring back at her. The reality of the situation hit her suddenly, and she fought the tears that filled her eyes.

"If this is it, my King, it has been an honor fighting beside you," she whispered, leaning over to kiss his cheek gently.

As he opened his mouth to reply, the doors were opened, and Theoden led them out into the chaos. After fighting their way to the bridge, Aragorn lost sight of her (y/h/c) hair as they rode toward the horde of Orcs. When he saw the Rohirrim come charging down the hill, he sighed in relief, hoping that everything would be over soon.

When the sounds of orcs finally died out and the battle ended, there was one thing on the Ranger's mind: (y/n). His heart was beating out of his chest as he rode by each dead body on the battlefield. He kept an eye on any flashes of her (y/h/c) hair, trying to keep his composure.

After searching the battlefield, he didn't see her anywhere. He didn't know if he should feel more worried or relieved, but what he did know was that he had to find her. Rushing through the fortress to the throne room, he burst through the doors.

"Has anyone seen Lady (y/n)?" he questioned loudly.

Before anyone could answer, a flash of (y/h/c) caught his eye, and he let out a shaky sigh as he looked her way.

"(Y/n)."

She quickly looked over at Aragorn with ab unreadable look which soon turned into a radiant smile that filled his body with warmth. The young woman was covered with dirt, sweat, and blood, but she still looked beautiful.

Without wasting another second, he quickly marched over to her and cupped her face, pulling her into a long overdue kiss. She immediately reciprocated the kiss, wrapping her arms around his neck as she pulled him closer.

Pulling away, she rested her forehead against his, slightly out of breath. She was about to speak but was interrupted by the voice of Gimli from behind them

"Aye, lad, it took you long enough!"

The pair looked at each other quickly before breaking into laughter as they embraced, ignoring the aching of their bodies.

Soon everything settled, leaving (y/n) and Aragorn a moment alone.

"Alone at last," she whispered, caressing his cheek lovingly. "I believe we have something we need to discuss, my lord."

A smirk appeared on his face as he snaked his arms around her waist, pulling her body closer to his. "I believe we do."

"I cannot-"

"You are-"

They both started at the same time. Smiling softly, she gestured for him to go ahead.

"I have never been able to imagine myself as King, but when I met you, I could. I could because I saw you beside me. I love you, (y/n)."

She slowly tugged him down, connecting their lips softly. Parting, he searched her face for a reply as he spoke quietly. "What does that mean?"

"It means I love you, too."

#lord of the rings #mads' fandoms #aragorn #aragorn x reader #aragorn imagines #the fellowship of the ring #aragorn son of arathorn #aragorn fanfiction #aragorn x you #aragorn x y/n #aragorn lord of the rings #the fellowship #the two towers #lord of the rings: the two towers #aragorn fluff #aragorn angst

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niamhcinnoir · 5 months

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I wonder how long it took them to find Celebrían.

So either she went by herself, which is implied, or Elrond sent a few guards with her, or she travelled with some of Galadriel's people that came over specifically to escort her to Lothlórien. Was the trip planned in advance? Was it a regular thing, that she went to Lothlórien once every few years to see her parents? Did she take Arwen or the twins with her occasionally? Obviously not this time, otherwise they would have been "waylaid" too. If anyone else was with her they would have been killed, no doubt, and the only reason Celebrían herself survived her "poisoned wound" and whatever else the orcs did to her was because of whatever high-elf ancestry light-of-the-two-trees Daughter of Galadriel inner powers she had going on.

So it took the Fellowship approximately two months to get to Lothlórien from Rivendell, but that's accounting for their massive detour through Moria. Celebrían took the Redhorn Pass (side headcanon: the Redhorn Pass became impassable only after this incident), and because she was an elf and (presumably) by herself we can knock off about a month, if she was on a horse.

So in the Appendices Celebrían is referred to as Daughter of Celeborn, not Daughter of Galadriel, which seems more likely given Galadriel's importance in the Lord of the Rings and the history of Middle-Earth in general. That leads me to assume that Celebrían took after her father way more than her mother - it's likely she couldn't mind speak to the same extent, perhaps she didn't even have the same level of Foresight.

Assuming she would have sent Elrond a letter the moment she was in Lothlórien, and Elrond was expecting this, it would have taken maybe a week or two or maybe another month more for Elrond to think something was wrong - maybe she was delayed somehow, by weather etc, maybe the letter was lost on the way, whatever. If her parents were expecting her, it would have taken them equally long to suspect something was wrong.

So then I'm guessing Elrond mind-spoke with Galadriel if he hadn't done so before to ask if Celebrían had arrived, maybe Galadriel saw something in her mirror and alerted Elrond the same way, whatever. Then finally, after about two months to my reckoning - the 24 hours you wait to file a missing persons report converted to Elf conceptions of time - Elrond sent out the search parties.

(By the way, if her horse somehow survived and found its way back to Rivendell, it would have taken a similar time).

Anyway, if it took her approx. 3 weeks (3/4 of the way from Rivendell to Lothlórien) to get to the Redhorn Pass, it took the rescuers the same amount of time - less if they were in a hurry, but they also had to physically look for her. Then they had to bring her back to Rivendell, and I read somewhere (maybe a fanfic, don't quote me on this) that it was the twins that found her - traumatic enough, but imagine travelling home for a few weeks with your half-dead mother beside you on your horse.

Maybe the eagles helped. Idk.

In conclusion, I believe Celebrían was lying poisoned and half-dead from torture in a cave (presumably without food or water) for at least two or three months before she was found and taken back to Rivendell.

This whole scenario is based on the assumption that nobody saw the attack coming, which, unlikely as it seems, must have been the case as there is no way either Elrond or her parents would have let her travel (alone or otherwise) if this outcome was an option.

This is my Roman Empire.

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ransprang · 2 months

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thank you @tolkien-fantasy we hope you like your match ups <3

if anyone else wants a personalized fic this is our ko-fi

your lotr match up is....

ARAGORN!!!

SFW

How you met: In the tranquil corners of Rivendell, Aragorn, son of Arathorn, found himself drawn to the sanctuary of books and knowledge. It was a day much like any other, with the soft hues of dawn painting the sky as Aragorn ventured into the library, seeking solace in the written word. Amidst the towering shelves and hushed whispers of parchment, his eyes fell upon a figure, small in stature yet radiating an aura of boundless energy. You were friendly to him when you saw him, surprised to see someone at the library at this hour and happily helped him find whatever book he was looking for. Your chipper personality cheered him up and he found himself drawn to the library more often. He preferred to come when there were fewer people around which gave you both a chance talk in peace. He began to open up to you more eased by your wise and mature personality, and eventually fell in love.

Aragorn is to be a king, so your wisdom and intelligence would be indispensable to him in his ruling years. Your ability to think quickly and offer practical solutions to complex problems proves invaluable as he navigates the challenges of governance.

Aragorn isn’t the type to give you extravagant gifts even once he becomes king. Instead he tries to find you small, sentimental pieces which remind him of you, like delicate necklaces with meaningful words inscribed upon them.

Your wisdom and cheerful personality would be a guiding light in Aragorn's darkest moments, reminding him to find joy in the simple pleasures of life and offering him respite from the weight of his responsibilities. If he ever saw you were upset he would try to return the favour and cheer you up.

Together, you and Aragorn create cherished traditions that strengthen your bond, such as sharing quiet moments in the garden at dawn, or exchanging heartfelt letters whenever duty keeps you apart.

Aragorn is a selfless man. He would often puts the needs of others before his own, sacrificing personal comfort and safety for you or the greater good in a heartbeat.

Aragorn likes going on adventures. He rarely every sits stills and would take you to different countries or cities. You would become a very well travelled person after a few years of dating him.

Aragorn would struggle with the idea of you dying before him, since his extended lifespan would mean he would have to spend his twilight years alone, living only with your memory. Your work as a death doula would equip you with the skills necessary to prepare him to deal with your loss.

When your hair isn’t covered, you catch Aragorn staring at you often, admiring your beauty. He is dazed by the way the sunlight dances off your auburn hair and the rakes his fingers gently through your waves before giving you a kiss.

Learning that you are a witch doesn’t freak him out at all. Instead it piques his curiosity. He’ll take the opportunity to learn about witchcraft from you and ask you many questions. When he’s out and about if he recognizes any materials that you use for witchcraft he’ll bring them back as little gifts.

N/SFW

All heavy makeout sessions first start with sweet, innocent kisses on your face. The kisses start moving south with Aragorn’s hands exploring your body as if he’s never touched you.

Aragorn keeps sex positions tame as he doesn’t want to overexert your body. He’ll always try to make sure you are comfortable and of course you both have a safe word to make sure you can tap out or take a break. He’s always very sweet about it, giving you a worried look.

He’s the king of aftercare. After you both cum he rolls over and strokes your auburn hair looking at your flushed face. Aragorn gives you kisses on your forehead and the back of your hand like a gentleman with a smile, happy to be able to share intimate moments with each other.

Aragorn enjoys making love to you on the soft grass, surrounded by flowers under the open sky. As he kisses your skin and you tangle your fingers in his hair, he slowly thrusts his penis deep inside. You two become one with your surroundings and a part of nature.

Aragorn eats you out, gently and picks up the speed as you pant faster. He grips your thighs, as he feels your skin against his finger tips and your soft folds on his tongue.

He likes to give you deep kisses, as he touches you all the way down, before playing with your clit and eventually inserting his fingers in, while still using his thumb to rub your sensitive bean.

Aragorn would carry you with your legs wrapped around his body, straddling him. He would thrust his cock deep inside while carrying you and fucking you around the house like this, knocking small items over in a moment of passion.

He would whisper reassurances in between grunts. “My darling, you are doing great.” he would say as he slowly increases the pace of his thrusting.

He would tangle his fingers through your hair and look deep within your eyes as you both breathe in rhythm with your heart, observing every breath you take. Aragorn pays close attention to you during intercourse, always looking out for signs of discomfort, or pleasure

Aragorn would kiss your neck softly, leaving you feeling almost ticklish. He smiles with joy watching you giggle beneath his touch, as he would continue kissing your flushed cheeks and cuddling you in his arms.

your books,

admins sar, san & sav

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miseries-mistress · 1 year

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FIDELITY | ARAGON

Synopsis: The burden of sleep weighs heavily on your body and consciousness while you and Aragorn are forced to attend a banquet after a long day of riding. The only thing that makes any of this bearable is the company of each other, lost in your moment of careless whispers.

Warnings: gender-neutral reader, kinda angst ig, but also fluff???, i know this didn't actually happen before the battle in rohan, but this is fanfiction, so who cares, no spoilers. W/C: 872

Notes: This is just a little drabble while i work on actual oneshots. also, i do plan on getting to my requests; it's just taking me a lot longer than i imagined. (thank you guys so much for 200 followers, ily)

lotr masterlist

The smoke of pipeweed drifted from the slight draft, curling upwards before dissipating into the stale air. Laughter rang out; chatter boomed as the distant language of lovers remained a faint whisper, hidden behind the shadow of feelings. As each moment passed and the night grew bitter, the people grew weary, their bellies full of brew and rich food. However, you and Aragorn remained silently seated, your plates barely touched while others danced and sang with fat smiles blistering their faces.

He inhaled and exhaled, the pipe loosely caught between his forefinger and thumb, his fitted shirt clinging to his biceps while he rolled up the rest of the sleeves to his elbows, exposing the artwork of veins spiraling down his arm. His posture is loose, an arm lazily propped up while the other is slung over the polished wood, an almost foreign demeanor from the battle-hardened man you are used to witnessing.

Words evade you as you admire the details of his figure, watching his face for any hint of emotion to pick at and dissect, knowing far too well his reluctance to share his woes with you.

It's not only him that is dispirited but you as well, for you are too weary to care about much else. The two of you had battled orcs and traveled across roves of land to scout, all while you prepared Rohan for something much more fierce than anything they had ever encountered.

Both of you are beyond drained, reduced to silently basking in the presence of one another for the brief time you get to indulge in the simplicity of understanding before you must part ways. Secrecy is of the highest importance, for rumors would drag a freshly sharpened blade through your bond, which runs more profound than any mere friendship. He's a future king, and you are a hopeless romantic with a dream.

Your head comes to rest on his shoulder, and the heaviness in your eyes, threatening to pull you under is like fighting an uphill battle. Each moment you strain to stay awake, but the pressure that settles over you is too great to ignore. As each moment passes into eternity, and you fall further into the creamy fabric of his freshly washed clothes, the smell of musk integrated with the woodlands wafts to your nose, and with each breath fall, you can't help but inhale more of his homely aroma.

Aragorn moves his arm to settle around your waist, simultaneously pulling you into a more comfortable position by his side. Your eyes betray you by fluttering closed as you melt into the tenderness in which he holds you.

The chatter is white noise, and his chest's steady rise and decline is your guide to the pitfalls of sleep that claim your dreary form.

Aragorn cannot help but let his eyes wander to your stature as he grimaces. In the next hour, he would have to sneak away from the festivities with you in his arms, tucking you into your makeshift bed, only to mesmerize your face as if it would be the last time he would ever see it before leaving. Aragorn would then carry on with the charade that every waking moment he didn't spend at your side was not pure agony, ripping his soul into bloody, gruesome shreds over his yearning to be near you once more. He was resigned to being a mere bystander as you unwittingly devastate his stone heart over the laughter you share with other men- men who could provide you with the life you merit.

It's a cruel game that fate is playing with his heart, and he tries to remain impassive to his internal struggle every time he can whisk you away from prying eyes, but he's cracking under the weight of his own facade. He can tell by the way your eyes carry a concern for his sake that you know of something of that which troubles him, but he can't bear to place that burden onto you. After all, there's nothing either of you could do to ease the pain.

Aragorn brushes the hair straying into your eyes, letting his irises wander a moment longer before tearing them away. His heart longs to keep you for a moment longer, but his mind insists he takes his leave and ends your moment of tranquility, but by fault, he is a selfish man. Despite all of the caution both of you heed, his worries seem to fall away like rainwater off a building, and the consequences of indulgence become too enticing to ignore. His rational mind, just for a second, gives way to senseless logic.

Aragorn's hand stutters for a moment before falling to your head, stroking down your hair in the cover of the shadows far from the senses of anyone who might bear witness to his devotion to someone who deserves more than he could ever offer, no matter what his blood might claim. His hand pulls your hair back, only to place the barest of kisses upon the crown of your head, not enough to disturb you but enough to offer him a second of solace before your inevitable separation.

"Losto mae, meleth nin."

(translates: sleep well, my love.)

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thedelusionreaderbitch · 1 year

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Legolas Greenleaf x gn! human! Reader - Never be

*NOTE: I don't normally write for this fandom because I am not confident enough that I can capture everything well enough, though I will be able to soon (when I finish reading/watching all the books and movies lol) have this little snippet for the time being*

A/n: Sorry, I know this is late but I was really sick (still am, but that doesn't matter so much does it?) so it's here now!

Heartbreak week masterlist?

Summary: You love the Elf that was in the fellowship with you, but that did not mean it could ever be

Warnings: unrequited love, why is he so pretty??? Like the way I'm attracted to all the elves that really brings my bi ass out doesn't it? I think that's it? You have been warned!

The three P's:

[Pronouns used: you/your] [Pov: 2nd person] [Pairings: (romantic!) Legolas x reader]

A drop of water, never touching always there but never close enough.

His doe eyes, never straying from the path ahead, always protecting, he really was an eleven princes of grandeur.

Beautiful blonde locks of hair fall over his shoulder as he turns his head to glance over at you. Taking your breath with him as he smiles and you quickly look away as to not be caught staring too long.

An elf that took your breath away, without even meaning to.

Glimpsing over to him, you feel like weeping at the sight of him. He's beautifully gentle, and you can't grip onto why you feel this way.

He is an elf though, and you are a human.

So you avert your gaze from him and close your eyes to make sure the true tears wouldn't show the feelings you held close to your heart.

A drop of water, never touching always there but never close enough.

You were just that, a drop of water of the thousands he would drink in his lifetime. He is your tidal wave making you burst, but you were not his.

You hold your head high as you walk and don't even glance at him once. You remind yourself that he would never look at you as anything other than friend. It must have confused him your actions, because the both of you were close, but in his eyes you were a fleeting leaf on tree that was destined to fall and wilt.

You kept your mantra close to your mind even though you kept your feeling buried in your heart.

He is an elf, and you are oh so very human.

It would never be.

Words 282

-thedelusionreaderbitch

Heartbreak week: @igotanidea @hawkinsbaby

#legolas #legolas greenleaf #legolas x reader #legolas greenleaf x reader #angst #delusion writes #lord of the rings #lotr #fellowship #lotr fellowship #legolas x gn! reader #legolas x human! reader #heartbreak week #yes I know it's fucking short #but that's kinda the point my guys

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frodo-cinnamonroll · 1 year

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Hi! I know this isn't one of your prompts, but would you mind doing a Frodo x human reader fic in which she's worried that she'll succumb to the Ring like Boromir did and Frodo will despise her for it, and Sam comforts her? Whether or not Frodo hears this is up to you (plus, I feel like how the ring would affect the reader isn't really talked about enough)

Torn in Two

Word count: 4.2k

Warnings: none, a little angsty

A/N: This is my first ever request and I had a blast writing it! Thank you! ♥

_________________________________________

“You will destroy us all! Curse you! Curse you!”

The shout came not far away. That alone was worrying, but even more, it was a voice you knew and that was worse. Much worse.

You dashed through the forest, a panic rising in your chest. Your sword was drawn. You feared what lay ahead. You knew not what you might face. Even so, you ran. At last, you caught sight of a figure kneeling on the hill. He was mumbling to himself and seemed to be greatly distraught. You stopped and sheathed your sword.

“Boromir?” You stepped forward and placed a hand on his shoulder. “Boromir? Brother, what is the matter? Where is Frodo?”

Boromir said nothing. He didn’t look up.

“Where is Frodo?”

You had almost never seen Boromir so troubled. Your brother was strong and fearless. You knew something terrible must have happened.

“He’s gone,” Boromir said, trembling, his voice barely above a whisper. “He’s gone.”

“Where to? What happened?” You looked into your brother’s eyes but he did not keep your gaze. Guilt and pain you saw.

“I . . .” he started. “I do not know. He disappeared.”

Your eyes widened. “He used the—it?!”

Boromir nodded and clasped your hands, pressing them to his forehead. “Forgive me! Forgive me!”

“For what? What has happened? You must ell me!”

“I tried to… no!” Boromir shook. “I tried to take it from him! I do not know why. A trance came over me, stronger than any will! I could not resist it! It was as if nothing in the world was of value except that thing. Frodo ran away. He was not hurt. But I tried to take it from him, Y/N!” And with that he wept. You were stunned. Even as you pondered these words Boromir’s face changed and he managed a smirk. “But why not? Why shouldn’t I have taken it? After all, we are doomed if the Ring is in the hands of that…rat.”

“Boromir!”

“What?” Boromir’s face was dark and fell to look upon as he stood over you. “Would you too take us all to our death? Would you march the One Ring straight to Sauron and have us all destroyed? The quest is hopeless! Yet you would counsel that we give the Ring back to the Evil One! No! I will find it! I will have it! I must have it! It is mine!”

“Boromir, no!” You grabbed at his cloak as he started away.

Boromir drew his sword, his face filled with rage and darkened passion. He lifted it high above you, gleaming in a red fire that reflected his face. Then it came down. You screamed.

_________________________________________________

“Boromir!” You sat up with a jolt, your hand over your side where the sword had pierced you . . . or where you thought it had.

The night was dark around you and the world was mostly silent except for the invisible winds whistling quietly over the rocks and lonely clumps of grasses nearby. There was no wound and no Boromir. You sighed, laying your head in your hands. It was all a dream, well, partially. You, Y/N, a daughter of Gondor, Boromir and Faramir’s sister, was one of the Fellowship of the Ring. You had insisted on coming with your brother. Though many laughed at your attempts to fight for greater things because you were a woman and “not a warrior,” you kept on. Mainly that was because you were tired of the dreary, hopeless waiting in Gondor that grew as the days went on, but also you wanted to keep your brother in check. He was dear to you, yet you knew he could be too proud sometimes, and you were one of the only ones who could remind him and keep him steady. And you were one of the only ones he would tell his mind openly to. Yet most of those in Gondor still doubted you.

“One does not need to be a master of the sword to change the world,” you had told them, “one only needs wisdom, courage, and endurance.” Even then, you were very skilled in the ways of swordsmanship, but you did not like to show it unless the need arose. Your brothers had trained you well. Strong and mighty though they were, they still treated you with love and respect and you loved them for it.

But now you were far away from your brothers, though it had pained you to leave them. Faramir had stayed behind in Gondor under his father’s wishes. And Boromir . . . you did not know where he was. Aragorn had sent you to find Boromir since you were his sister and that you did, but Frodo had been nowhere to be found. After Boromir told you what had happened, he was too distraught to go anywhere for a while. You had gone in search of Frodo, and you had found him just before he had left. He couldn’t convince you to stay, and you, Sam, and Frodo had left the company. Now it was your second night since the Fellowship was broken.

You sat back against the cool ledge of rock under which the three of you had taken refuge for the night. Rest seemed far away, for you at least. You looked over at the two hobbits who were sleeping nearby. Sam was unmoved, snoring lightly. His sword was still on his side in case of an emergency and he needed to protect his master. Frodo slept less easily it seemed. His face looked worried, as if he were in a troubling dream. That you did not doubt. Often on your journey since Gandalf had fallen, Frodo had been disturbed by unhappy dreams. It hurt your heart but there was nothing that could be done about it. Even now he mumbled Gandalf’s name, tossing and turning slightly. You watched them, your heart ever filling with love for the small creatures. You could easily see, as you had when you first saw them, how Gandalf so loved hobbits. They were small yet had such courage as many men lacked. In fact, you believed what they lacked in size, hobbits made up for in character. You were thankful to be a part of the journey with them and the others of the Fellowship and to have gotten this far.

As you looked, Frodo turned on his back and you could barely see the cold silver of the chain that he wore, the chain that held the fate of Middle-earth. You flinched when you saw it. So easy it would be to take it and rid the hobbits of the torment and horror that might lay ahead. A valiant deed it would be. Yet, as you thought about these things, something seemed wrong about it all. If you were to take it, trust would be broken. How long could you resist the ever-growing pull of the Ring? How long until you, like Boromir, were driven mad with the desire of it and harmed the very ones you claimed you were helping? Maybe it would have been better if it had just been Sam and Frodo left to take the Ring. Maybe you weren’t meant to be here at all. Maybe . . .

“Worrying about what-ifs is not going to change anything,” you whispered to yourself. “You mustn’t despair now. They need you. It would be foolish to leave them.”

But is it just as foolish to stay? How long can you hold out? How long?

You shook your head. It was as if another voice was whispering into your ear, low and menacing yet almost sweet to hear.

Spare them the pain. Spare them. Take the Ring and spare them of what lies ahead. You know it is the only way. Maybe Boromir was right. Is there any hope with things going the way they are now? Spare them.

“No!” you said to the darkness, as if someone stood before you. “I will not. Indeed I would spare them if I could but it is not my choice to make.”

Think of Gondor. Its power is failing. Think of the deeds you could do to save your people. What honor you would receive!

“I heard what Gandalf said. Only the Dark Lord can use its power and I cannot. The Ring-bearer was chosen and it was not me for a reason. Leave me, you foul voice. Leave me in peace.”

Your head was silent once again. You felt weary in your spirit yet as if you had won a victory, though it seemed small whatever it was. You did not doubt that the temptation would come again. How long could you hold out?

You sighed and laid back down, watching the hobbits rhythmic breaths. Frodo moaned in his sleep, clutching his elven cloak. Sam was motionless and seemed peaceful. Slowly, sleep took over you and you drifted away into dreamless darkness.

________________________________________________

“Miss Y/N,” it was Sam’s voice that pulled you into the morning. “Miss, the sun’s up. I think we best get going as soon as we can.”

You opened your eyes and sat up. The day was dull and soundless but for the Great River roaring not far away. Sam had made a small fire and three small fish were cooking in one of Sam’s pans. Frodo was silent, watching the fire. He seemed deep in thought.

“How did you manage to catch fish?” you asked.

“I happened to find a net in my pack,” Sam said. “I don’t know what from but it’s a blessing for sure. It’s a shame I won’t be able to use it much, considering where we’re going and all, but I thought we should have a good meal before all we have is lembas. It’s not too risky to make a fire, is it?”

“If it smokes,” you looked up at the dreary sky, “but it isn’t. It might be the last fire we will get in a long while, so enjoy it. We should reach those barren hills today.”

Sam nodded and served the fish as best he could manage with the meager spices he had. The three of you ate as slow as time allowed, but you needed to be off soon. When you finished, you packed up what belongings you had and continued your journey once more. You led the way with Frodo behind you and Sam bringing up the rear, not that you knew much about these lands, for it was far away from Minas Tirith and was largely unfamiliar.

The vast terrain before you between the Great River and the Dead Marshes was lifeless and unfriendly. There seemed to be nothing but the brown-gray rock in many forms of jagged hills. You cautiously picked your way between the sheltered clefts, sheer drops, and rugged boulders. For now the Ring was forgotten to you and your mind was only focused on picking the right path, and the safest one at that. Every now and then, you would reach a dead end, some high wall that none could scale or some drop that led to an end that you could not see. However, you did not give up hope and the three of you worked your way backwards and came upon another route that seemed to have appeared only then which had hidden itself from you before. Thus, slowly, you worked towards the Land of Shadow.

But even as the day went on a fog began to grow in the deep crevices of the hills and worked its way slowly upward until it covered everything. You could not see much farther in front of you and it was only thickening. It was as if someone was building up the mist to stop you from going forward, and maybe someone was. It didn’t dampen your spirits entirely, only making the way harder and more troublesome.

Even so, the three of you spoke softly of your homelands far away. You were very interested in life in the Shire and Sam and Frodo told you of what things were like there. They told of the land, their heritage, and happenings of their childhood and whatever they could recall had happened before they left. They spoke lovingly of their home and as you looked at their faces you could see their longing to return to its comforts. Frodo especially seemed saddened and when he spoke of his home, you could see in his eyes that he feared he would never return.

Then you all fell silent for a while, walking in the ever-thickening fog. The end of the day was coming near and the light was beginning to fail. For some reason or another, your heart felt heavier as the day faded. A light rain began.

“We should find somewhere to rest for the night,” you said, peering around you in search of some form of shelter. “I don’t think we shall be able to see much further.”

“I don’t think I can walk much further either,” Frodo said. He swayed a little where he stood. Sam put a hand on his arm to steady him.

“Come, this way.”

You led them to a shallow cave-like opening in the rock and made yourselves at home to the best of your ability. After eating a little lembas, you settled into silence and laid down. Frodo was asleep almost instantly and Sam followed soon after, but you couldn’t shake a rising feeling of dread that seemed distant and near at the same time. An hour or two passed, and you looked out into the fog, waiting for something or someone dreadful to appear. Then suddenly you heard what sounded like the beating of wings coming nearer. The dread was so strong you couldn’t think at first. Forcing yourself to move, you shook Sam and Frodo awake.

“Frodo, Sam, wake up,” you whispered as quietly as you could manage. Your hands were shaking.

The hobbits started awake and the three of you crouched against the rock as far back as it would allow.

“They’ve come,” Frodo whispered.

“It’s only one,” you managed to say.

“But that’s more than we can handle,” Sam said, shaking.

Then out from the darkness there came a cry so piercing and full of hatred and evil power that the three of you covered your ears and lay on the ground in terror. Now you could hear the Nazgûl on whatever evil creature it rode not far above. It shrieked again and Frodo cried out, clutching where his old wound had been. He slowly reached for the Ring on its chain but Sam stopped him. You saw It now, right in front of you and not far from your grasp. Then, in some dream, your hand reached for the Ring under some will that was not your own. You felt the chain cold and heavy in your fingers against the warmth of Frodo’s body. Sam was staring at you with wide eyes but made no move.

Take it. Take it. The voice from the night before was back, luring you. Take it and have it for yourself. Put it on and you can run, invisible and mighty. You can escape the death that awaits. You can escape. Take it now.

Your fingers were inches away from the Ring. All you had to do was take it. But the image of Boromir in your dream flashed through your mind and another of him lying in one of the boats of Lothlorien still and unmoving, floating away to be swallowed up by the sea and stars. Then in an instant something awoke inside you and you reeled back and the voice and terror and evil will passed. The Nazgûl was gone.

You sat back against the wall, breathing heavily and staring out into the distance. Frodo sat up now and looked at you. You covered your mouth with your hand as tears welled in your eyes.

“Forgive me,” you whispered. “Forgive me.”

You stood and, without another word, walked out into the fog. You didn’t go very far, so as to not get lost, but you went as far as you dared. You sat down on a small boulder, heedless of the cold, and let tears fall down your face. You wrapped your elven cloak around you and cried softly to yourself, drawing your knees to your chest. What was the point of all this? The struggle? The pain? Why were you even here in this desolate land? Then your mind went back to the day you had left Gondor with Boromir.

“I’m still not sure about all this,” Boromir said, saddling his horse.

“There are many things we do not yet know, brother,” you answered. “I think we will learn much more in the days to come. Who knows? Maybe one day tales will be sung about us, whatever we are about to do.”

Boromir shook his head with a smile. “Ah, sister. Still dreaming of valor and tales? You may have your chance to be in one yet. But whether or not we are, we must do what is right, honor or no.”

“So you have learned a thing or two from me.”

“Indeed. I have a feeling that more than the lives of our people depend on this.”

“Then let us not forget. Let us not fail. Let us fight to the end.”

You looked back up into the fog, resting your chin on your knees. You breathed the night air deeply. Though it wasn’t fresh or pleasant, you felt a little lighter somehow.

“Miss?”

You turned around wiping the tears from your eyes. The hazy figure of a hobbit stood behind you. “Sam! What are you doing?”

“I wanted to make sure you were alright,” Sam said. “It’s getting quite cold I think. Mr. Frodo’s already out. We should probably get the most sleep we can too.”

“I don’t know that I can,” you said, not looking at him.

Sam sighed and sat down next to you. “I . . . I know you think you . . . well, I know you feel bad for it.”

“For what?”

“What happened . . . with the Ring . . . when the Black Rider came by.”

You looked at Sam and then buried your face in your hands. You couldn’t stop the tears and you didn’t try.

“I’m so sorry!” you cried. “I don’t know what came over me. It was so . . . strong, whatever it was. My mind filled with thoughts of the Ring and some foreign desire made me want it! I do not want it, Sam! I do not! Yet ever since we left it’s tempted me. I understand now why Frodo told me not to come. He saw in me what I could not see in myself. I thought I could resist it, more so than Boromir, but I was wrong. I fear I may succumb to it and be taken by it and who knows what I will do then!” You could say no more and your words were buried in sobs.

You felt Sam’s hand on your arm. “Miss Y/N,” he said, “with all due respect, you seem to have missed something. I’ve noticed how it’s tempted you and made you torn in two. Mr. Frodo has too. But, Miss, you resisted it. When that Black Rider came by, you were drawn to it, sure, but you didn’t let it get a hold of you. You said no. When you did that—now don’t take me for a loon—but when you did that, I saw a light around you. It was as if you had finally overcome it’s call to you and you won, if you understand me. You don’t need to worry about it any more. And even if it does still draw you a little, you’ve got something stronger than it. I don’t know what, but it’s there. Mr. Boromir, he had strength, but he didn’t have all of what you do. It would be more than a shame if you left. I think we’ll be needing you down the road, so that’s why you’d better not leave.”

You looked at Sam in shock and admiration. “Do you really mean that?”

“Yes, ma’am, I do. I may be a bit of a ninnyhammer sometimes but I’m no liar.”

“Oh, Sam!” you hugged the hobbit tightly. “Thank you! Thank you. Bless you, dear hobbit! Gandalf was right, there is more to halflings than meets the eye. Come, let us rest now.”

“Just a minute,” Sam said. “I just want to say, too, that Mr. Frodo, he doesn’t hate you, Miss. He told me just now that when you came back he was going to say something similar to what I just said now, but my poor master can hardly keep his eyes open whenever we stop for the night. He’s fond of you and I am too. Mr. Frodo and I would trust you with our lives, and everything else besides.”

“I’m glad to hear it,” you said softly. “I have never really had friends so close as I have you and Frodo. Thank you for that.”

“Of course, Miss, it’s a pleasure.”

The two of you went back up to the cave where Frodo was at rest. You felt at peace now, at least enough to get through the night. You laid down and closed your eyes, humming a song that you had learned many years before. Such a song had never been heard in those parts in many many years, if ever at all. And over the dreary hills it floated, a sign of hope sailing the wind.

____________________________________

The next day came quietly, and your small group got an early start when the light was still new. The fog still lay thick around the land, but it was thinner than the day before. The misty whisps curled around the shapeless rock forms like ghostly white snakes. Although the day was just about as dreary as the last, you felt more hopeful. You had hardly spoken to Frodo and Sam at all, as there was nothing much to say. You had wanted to say something to Frodo but you couldn’t find the words. You kept glancing at him and opening your mouth to speak but no words would follow.

Just before you thought you couldn’t bear it any longer, the three of you stopped to rest. You sat on a small rock with withering moss clinging to it and looked out into the dissipating fog. You could barely see a glimpse of the Dead Marshes far away. You could smell them too. Nearer by, you could hear what sounded like a trickle of water.

“If my ears aren’t mistaken,” Sam said, breaking the silence, “I think there’s a stream nearby.”

“I believe you are correct, Sam,” you said, glancing around.

“I’ll refill our bottles,” Sam said, grabbing the three flasks you had. Not waiting, he started off with a quick look in Frodo’s direction.

An awkward silence ensued.

“Frodo,” you said at last, forcing the words out.

“Yes?”

“Please . . . please forgive me for what happened last night with the Ring. Sam already spoke with me about it, but I need to tell you myself that I am sorry, terribly sorry, for what happened. I do not think it will happen again but . . .” Suddenly, everything Sam had said the night before was forgotten to you and the tears ran down your face again. “Oh that it should be I that is your worst enemy, and whom you have most cause to fear! It would be better if I stayed here while the two of you went ahead! It would be better if I rotted alone in this desolate place than brought any harm or trouble to you!”

Frodo’s face was filled with sadness when you said this. He squeezed your hand, looking into your eyes with empathy. “No,” he said. “That is . . . nonsense, Y/N. It is a shame to me to hear such a word. I would not hear it of you, and I shall not hear it from you. May Eru judge me by my deserts, and punish me with more bitter suffering than even this hour, if by any act or will of mine anything shall ever come between us!”

“But it is not your act, Frodo,” you said, looking away. “It is mine. It is all my doing.”

“No. No it is not. It is not your fault that we are here. It is not your fault that the Ring came to me. It is not Bilbo’s fault that it came to him. I do not believe it is Gollum’s fault that it came to him either. When we were in the mines of Moria, Gandalf told me this: he said it is not for us to decide the times we see or what we face, but all we have to decide is what to do with the time that is given to us. You are not succumbing to the Ring, Y/N. If any of us is, it is me. Last night you resisted and overcame the desire for it. I wish I had the strength to do the same. You have more to you than meets the eye, a hidden strength, I think. I trust you, Y/N, and I believe I always shall. Please don’t forget it.”

You said nothing. You couldn’t. You wrapped Frodo in a hug and cried. Frodo said nothing else and patiently returned the gesture, holding back tears himself.

“So there is hope for this journey after all,” you whispered. “We just might not see it yet.”

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nimbusnight28174 · 5 months

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At the end of the journey

@lotr20 | day 6 | Triumph | Hope | Healing

read on ao3

The reign of Sauron the abhorred had come to an end, and the days of peace where upon them at last. Many had been lost, but through their triumph they would be for ever honoured and remembered by the free peoples of Middle-Earth, in every laugh and every stone rebuilt for their hope and their bravery as they fought against the shadow.

Frodo, the bravest of them all, and the loyal Sam who had followed him into the darkest places of the world, had prevailed; and even as all hope seemed lost, they lived to see it healed. The fellowship was gathered again, for all but one, but together with his brother they kept his memory alive. Boromir had been a good man, who had wanted nothing more than to see his family and friends and people safe, and his memory would not be forgotten.

Though victory was theirs, it had been hard won, and it weighed heavy on them all, for they had lost so many and also themselves, for no one walks out of a war unscathed. Legolas had heard the gulls call during the Battle of Pelennor, and would have to sail West, and though he did not want to worry his friends, he would sometimes seem so very far away. But he had told Aragorn that he would stay to see his reign to an end, and when his friend died after many peaceful years, Legolas was there by his side, and Gimli too

The hobbits, who had seen little of the world outside of the Shire before the journey and been sheltered from its darkness, had changed most of all. For though Merry and Pippin were still quick to laughter and mischief, they had also grown serious, and Sam had become anxious to keep his friends in sight.

There was a shadow over Frodo, and he was distant even as he talked and smiled with his friends. Elrond had confided in Gandalf that he did not know if he could be healed, here in Middle-Earth; and the wizard had closed his eyes and despaired for the young hobbit he had once known, so excited for tales of adventure and fireworks.

But for all of this, days of joy now lay ahead of them; and though the hobbits were eager to get back home after everything that had happened, and to see what had become of the Shire, they stayed to help with the rebuilding and to see their friend crowned King.

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elrondsimp · 1 year

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P! Tauriel x GN! Human Reader

“Grief together”

Warning: small angst, kili’s death

Y/n noticed Tauriel sitting alone on the ruined steps of the city, tears streaming down her face. Y/n walked over to her, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder. "I'm sorry," Y/n said softly.

Tauriel looked up at them, her eyes red and puffy. "He was everything to me," she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

Y/n sat down next to her, wrapping an arm around her. "I know how hard it is to lose someone you love," they said, her voice gentle. "But remember, he died fighting for a noble cause. He died protecting his friends and his people."

Tauriel nodded, wiping away her tears. "I just wish he didn't have to die. It hurts so much," she said, chocking on her sobs

"I know," Y/n said, squeezing her shoulder. "But know that he will always be remembered and honored for his bravery and sacrifice."

Tauriel leaned her head against Y/n's shoulder, grateful for the comfort. They sat in silence for a while, watching as the sun began to set over Erebor. Despite the loss and the pain, they found solace in each other's company.

#lotr #the hobbit x reader #the hobbit #the fellowship of the ring #y/n #lotr x reader #tauriel #gn reader #Angst #kili x tauriel #tauriel x reader

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foolsfarseer · 7 months

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Rose Quartz

Gimli owns a crystal shop, Legolas owns a flower shop. The rivalry basically wrote itself.

#gimleaf #lord of the rings #legolas #gimli #the rings of power #rings of power #trop #the hobbit #rivals to lovers #fluff #angst #lotr fanfic #wip #lotr movies #the fellowship of the ring #modern day au #flower #crystal #rose quartz

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thewulf · 3 months

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My Queen || Aragorn

Summary: Request - Can I pleeeease send you an idea where he finds a girl in the woods, hurt and not conscious but he feels the need to help her and be close to her. So he takes care of her wounds till she wakes up and it's like true love at first sight for both of them... Read Rest Here

A/N: OH WOW, this got out of hand QUICK but I had SO MUCH FUNNNN writing this way! It was a challenge but it felt invigorating to write. I am obsessed with Aragorn and I just love him. Margot Robbie is so right for her cinematic crush! Thank you for the request anon, hope you love it :)

Pairing: Aragorn x Reader

Word Count: 10,000 +

TW: Violence, orc violence, poison, death, blood, crying, angst, lotr warnings, Aragorn being hot af

Just a few more stumbling steps. You could do it. Glancing down you grimaced at the crimson coated and tattered dress that you’d been wearing for the last five or so days. It used to be so gorgeous, a gift from the man you were meant to wed. Truly it was the only exquisite gift you’d ever received in your entirety. However now it looked as if it’d seen a thousand lives, just like the elves had. It bore this resemblance due to the attack on your home. You ran. Running far away from everything you knew. It was tough to grasp just how much you’d been through in the five days since you had to flee your small village just outside of Eriador.

You’d had a good life. Good but rather simple. Almost too simple for your taste. You were engaged to be wed to the local jewelers son at your father’s doing. He had assured you over and over again that going through with the wedding would lead you to a life that he could not provide you. A life you were destined for. Your mother, Valar rest her soul, had been killed a few years prior in an attack on your village leaving you with your father and a small place to live. But it was home.

The local jeweler boy, Newall, had asked you to take a walk around the village right before the tragic events occurred. One moment you were giving him your kindest smile. The next he pushed you into the woods after hearing the screaming coming from the village center. Not making your most brilliant decision you decided to follow behind him only to come to the horrifying realization that your seemingly insignificant village was being brutalized by Orc’s. You stood there frozen in fear as you witnessed men, women and children being slain as if they meant nothing.

It was only when you came face to face with one that you realized how much trouble you were in. Valar save you. He must’ve listened because the Orc simply look at you, growled and pushed you into the side of the house you were standing next to. But then it dawned on you that he wasn’t done. The creature walked to you terrifyingly slow, standing over you before driving it’s sword into your side. Before you could even yelp out in pain the orc vanished leaving you to die presumably. But it was a shallow wound. It didn’t seem like it was trying to do too much damage. Orcs knew one thing, killing. It was odd that one would have spared you.

When you finally came back to the reality of the situation you knew you had to go. Run to Bree. Your dad always instructed that’s where you needed to go. You had an uncle up there that could look after you. Deciding not to waste another second you rushed inside the house grabbing whatever clothing you could find. Tying a pair of Newall’s pants around your waste to hopefully stop the bleeding you only grabbed a little bit of food before you made for the forest. You’d have to find something along the way. The trek to Bree would take nearly a month on foot.

Using the stars as guidance you moved through the forest you knew very well. It started out fine. You were trained to do just this. Your father had made sure of it. What you hadn’t considered was the poison from the orc blade that was slowly taking its toll on your body. It was the fourth night that you realized you were in serious trouble. On the fifth day you decided you weren’t going to be able to go any further. No wonder the Orc didn’t just kill you there. He left you to suffer. What a vile creation.

It didn’t take you long to decide on where you wanted to die. You found a nice tree under the shade of the leaved with a comfortable base. You were just going to go to sleep and hopefully never wake up. Hopefully the poison would just do what it wanted to and let you finally go.

That did not happen though. You felt a light kick on your boot forcing your eyes to open. What you weren’t expecting was a rather handsome looking ranger with ice blue eyes to be staring right at you. Considering what to do.

“Miss,” He knelt down after whispering something to his horse, “Are you injured?” His surprisingly concerned eyes spotted the blood that coated your worn-down dress.

Taking a long breath, you mustered enough strength to answer the stranger, “Yea, Master Ranger.” You let your head lean back on the trunk of the tree relieving the strain it seemed to put on year mere consciousness.

“Forgive me, but you do not look it miss.” His head was level with yours as he moved closer to you. He didn’t dare touch you without your permission, but he wanted too, you were not all right like you so miserably tried to convince him.

A shallow breath escaped you, “I fear I have been stabbed by an Orc blade Ranger. I do not have much longer.” Your eyes flicked away from his in a pathetic attempt to rid him of the conversation. He would have no such thing though. Leave a fair maiden to perish on her own? Not on his accord.

“Strider.” He corrected you. It wasn’t often he’d give out his Ranger known name to strangers, but you seemed harmless enough. What could a human woman such as yourself have done to deserve such a fate he wondered before continuing on, “We are but a half days journey to a small town called Sarn Ford. Have you heard of it miss?” He asked in hopes of seeing your eyes open once more.

You did as he wished and looked at him again, “Sarn Ford? Oh dear. I’ve gone the wrong direction.” You grimaced in pain as you tried to sit up higher on the tree trunk.

��Where are traveling to miss? On your own?” He held out an open hand for you to take. He left the decision on if you’d accept the help up to you.

Eyeing his hand, you knew he was prying. But he seemed trustworthy. The Rangers of the North were meant to be. Strider as he called himself. Your eyes met his again and you caved right then and there. He looked genuine, like he thought he could actually help you. Like you were not too far gone. With all the strength you could muster in your quickly fading body you put your hand in his, “Aye. My village was attacked by orcs. Third time in the last five years. They got me this time.” You sighed trying your hardest to stay conscious, “I was meant to travel to Bree. But I must have taken to the wrong direction. I will be blaming the Orc poison for the misdirection.” You let out a pained laugh trying to lighten the tone of the conversation going on between the two of you.

“All right. Off we go. What is your name?” He asked you needing to know to continue.

He watched you intently sputter out the words you were trying to get out. His fear of orc poison was right, you truly did not have that much time left. With your permission he scooped you up in his arms, called his horse over and positioned you in front of him while he rode. He knew you did not have enough strength to hold on from behind. He knew It would be a challenge to keep you upright on the journey back to Sarn Ford. He was meeting Gandalf there, anyway, might as well help the woman who he had taken a fast liking towards. Even Strider could see the beauty in things, and you were mighty beautiful in his eyes. Even coated in layers of dirt and grime he knew you shined like a star above him.

“Y/N.” You admitted to the man not feeling up to lying to him. You would likely be dead before dawn anyway. You would have hoped he would find a way to let anybody surviving know of your unfortunate fate. But in reality you were just another causality of war. A human life cut far too short.

“Lovely name.” He smiled lowly as he held you into him. He could feel you were fading in and out of consciousness as he held onto your waist tightly.

You hummed in thanks not having the strength to reply to him.

“Hold on miss Y/N. We will be there soon.” He spoke into your ear startling you back onto the middle earth side of consciousness.

But as much as he tried you had succumbed to your own fate. Blackness took over before you reached the village of Sarn Ford.

Much to your own surprise your eyes opened once more. You peaked around seeing all sorts of supplies. You must have been in some sort of healers room you concluded quickly. Looking down you were not in your attire you had been found in but a simple dress that you were more accustomed too. Being so caught up in your own accord you had yet to see the two men. Well one man and one wizard standing off to the side conversing as you came back to reality.

“Welcome young one.” The wizard spoke. You had never seen one before. Thought they were the thing of legends. But sure, as it would be one stood before you. They were easy to spot. Had an aura about them.

Your eyes snapped back to Striders looking at him in surprise. He was more handsome than you remembered as the sun beat down on his features through the window in the hut you were in, “It is all right.” He nodded at you, “This is Gandalf the Grey, he is an old friend of mine.”

“Hello Gandalf.” You broke your eyes away from the stranger your somewhat knew and turned your head towards the wizard.

“How are you fairing?” He asked whilst leaning onto his cane.

“Fine now. Thank you.” You turned toward Strider who made his way closer, “Thank you Strider. For without you I fear I may have been dead by now.” A shiver of realization ripped down your spine as you admitted it out loud.

He bowed his head, “I am honored to have been of service miss Y/N.” You looked over to him giving him a bashful smile. He was really so handsome. More handsome than any of the boys or men in your small village.

“Are you well enough to travel?” Gandalf asked breaking the trance the two of you had been locked in for a moment too long to be just friendly glances. Gandalf was considered wise for a reason. He had an inkling feeling there was something budding between his usually broody friend and the pretty human girl he had found in the woods. Maybe you were his gift from Valar. Every great leader needed one. Who was Gandalf to question the gods.

“I believe so.” You sat you wincing only slightly as the wound in your side. Strider wanted nothing more than to push you back down and curse the wizard who suggested you move so soon.

“Miss Y/N. You need to rest a little longer.” He insisted placing a gentle hand on your shoulder preventing you from standing.

Gandalf grumbled, “You must get to the Prancing Pony Inn. I’m going to meet Frodo now. Time is of the essence Aragorn.”

Your eyes crumbled in confusion. Who was Aragorn?

He did not leave you time to question as he grabbed at your hand, “Come miss Y/N. We have a ride to take.”

You sat at the bar table with Strider who had hood of his robe covering his face. You grew more uneasy as the night wore on at the Prancing Pony. The horse ride was quick thankfully. And much to your delight the Hobbits Gandalf was speaking of finally appeared. Right on time.

Strider shot up from his seat, “Wait here miss Y/N. I must save the Hobbit.” He sighed before bounding off into the depths of the bar. You felt even more uneasy as the eyes around you made their way to your shaking frame. You were nervous.

After far too many moments alone he grabbed you by your arms, “Come Y/N. We must hide.” He directed you to another room than the ones you had planned on staying in.

“Strider?” You asked following him up a set of stairs you were unfamiliar with.

“Nazgul. I’ll explain later. For now, you must sleep. We have a long journey to Rivendell. Especially with the Hobbits.” He let a long breath while opening the door for you. Quickly, you were attacked by questions from the four little Hobbits. Happily, though you answered every single one before lying next to Strider who promised to keep watch.

“You should get some rest too.” You whispered hoping not to wake the sleeping Hobbits.

He nodded, “I shall. In due time. I fear we have something coming.”

Your frown was evident as he continued to try and comfort you, “Do not fret. I am keeping watch for a reason. We are safe.”

“I believe you Strider.” You yawned not being able to keep the tiredness away for much longer.

“Rest.” He commanded.

You were far too tired to argue that as the darkness crept in.

You were woken when the screeching next door commenced. The Hobbits must’ve had more sensitive ears as they were already up and staring at Strider who looked glum.

“What are they?” Frodo asked.

He sat at the window looking at the five of you, “They were once men. Great kings of men. The Sauron the Deceiver gave to them nine rings of power.” You felt a shiver ripple across your body. You’d heard the legends and did not believe those either. Yet again, another thing coming true right before your eyes.

“We must move.” He commented seeing the Nazgul retreating away from the inn.

You must have walked for miles until Strider had the five of you rest at the old watchtower of Amon Sul. You stood there behind the Hobbits staring up the decaying rock structure before you. It must have been grand in its time.

Once you were seated next to the Hobbits he stood and tossed each of you a weapon, “These are for you. Keep them close. I’m going to have a look around. Miss Y/N, will this blade be too large for you?” He handed you a smaller sword for you to try.

“I fear you have too much faith in me Strider.” You unsheathed the sword holding onto it carefully, “But this will work.” You nodded towards him.

“You shall not have to use it. In case only.” He pointed at each of you, “I will be back. Rest. Make no noise or sound.” His command was easy to follow. A natural born leader it seemed.

You woke when you heard Frodo yelling from beside you, “What are you doing?” He yelled a little too loud. You rose from the ground you had managed to sleep on and watched the interaction unfold. You cursed when you saw the fire going. He had not explicitly said no fires, but the intention was there.

“Put it out you fools!” Frodo cried. You rose from your slumber and haphazardly helped him put it out.

The horrifying cry you heard from the Nazgul the night before rang out from outside the watch tower.

“Oh no.” You spotted them coming towards you, “No Strider?” You turned to Frodo with a horrifying realization.

He shook his head, “Go! Up!” You followed the Hobbits to the top of the tower and waited. You shivered when you saw them come from the shadows. You heard nothing but your hammering heart in your chest. This was it. This could be the end. You sword was shaking in your hand.

“Back you devils!” Sam screamed trying to shield them off. You blocked a shot but was stopped when Frodo pulled the ring out. You gasped when they all ran from him. To your horror when he put the ring on he disappeared.

Strider came out of nowhere blocking back the Nazgul from all of you. You ran to Frodo in horror seeing the man defend the five of you with ease. A few of them went up in flames as kept fighting them off. They had enough when he got another went up and flames and ran off. Strider quickly came over to the five of you surrounding Frodo. You had your hand on his horrifyingly black wound. You’d never seen poison like that before.

“Help him Strider!” You cried in a shaky voice once he kneeled down next to you.

He picked the sword up shaking his head slowly, “He’s been stabbed by a Morgul blade.” The blade vanished in his hand as Frodo writhed beneath you, “This is beyond my skill to heal. He needs Elvish medicine.”

You looked down at the Hobbit in pain and let a single tear fall, “We will get you the help you need mister Frodo. Rest assured.” He picked the Hobbit up and began running, “Let us go.”

The four of you trailed Strider in a daze. The Nazgul screams seemed to ring out from every direction as you ran, “Hurry!” he shouted at the four of you with Frodo crying in his arms.

“We are six days from Rivendell! He will never make it!” Sam cried sending a shuddering realization through you.

You simply heard a faint whisper come from Strider ahead of you, “Hold on, Frodo.” From Strider who kept running and did not acknowledge Sam. As tired as you were you had to keep moving for Frodo’s sake. You ran and ran until you could no more and then you ran some more.

He only stopped when he ran into three petrified trolls. He set Frodo down looking around frantically. You and Sam went over to look after him. Same placed a gentle hand to the despondent Hobbit.

Sam shuddered at the touch, “Mr. Frodo! He’s going cold.”

“Is he going to die?” Pippen chimed in. You stood back looking over the shivering Hobbit who long since stopped crying out in pain.

Strider turned to the five of you with a concerned look crossing over his features, “He’s passing into the Shadow World. He’ll soon become a Wraith like them.” He stated so calmly. Your face grimaced at the horrifying realization. Frodo becoming a Nazgul?

Strider continued, “Sam, do you know the Athlelas plant?” You listened in but bent down to hold Frodo’s hand hoping some comfort would help the gasping Hobbit. His eyes were glazing over with something of a blue sheen that sent shivers down your body.

“Athelas?” Sam asked confused by the question.

“Kingsfoil.” Strider tried a different name.

Sam nodded, “Kingsfoil, aye, it’s a weed!”

“It may help the poisoning. Hurry!” He pushed the Hobbit off, “Miss Y/N. Stay with Frodo. We will be back with help.” You nodded holding onto his hand dearly.

Not a few moments later you saw the help arriving. A beautiful elf strode over and down to the quickly fading Hobbit. You took a step back as she took a step towards him. You gaped at the beauty that she was leaning down to your newfound friend. An elf in real life. She was beyond your wildest imagination. You had been told of their beauty, but this was bordering on ethereal.

“I am Arwen. I have come to help you.” She whispered into his ear, “Hear my voice. Come back to the light.” She grabbed at his hand while Strider handed her the plant.

“Who is she?” Merry asked quietly as Frodo was tended to.

“Arwen, an elf.” You whispered repeating what you heard her speak to Frodo not seconds ago, “She’s going to save him.” You said out loud to convince yourself more so than the group of Hobbits.

“Frodo,” She whispered, “He’s fading.” She sounded concerned as she looked over to Strider, “He’s not going to last. We must get him to my father.” The two of them stood as Strider grabbed at Frodo, “I’ve been looking for you for two days.” She said to Strider. You watched as the scene unfolded before you not wanting to get in the way of whatever was occurring.

“Where are you taking him?” Sam asked confused and terribly concerned for his friend.

He was ignored as Arwen continued, “There are five Wraiths behind you. Where the other four are, I do not know.” You watched as Strider put Frodo onto the horse with ease.

Suddenly Strider started talking in what you assumed to be Sindarin as you could not understand what they were saying. They must have agreed upon something as Arwen hopped onto the horse and took off with Frodo. Your mind was sent into a spiral as you guessed where he was going and off so quickly.

“She is taking him to Rivendell. To Lord Elrond for him to be healed. She is the faster rider and will get him there sooner. Come, we must go.” He motioned for the group to keep moving, “Miss Y/N, will you walk with me?”

You nodded speeding up your pace to match his, “Master Strider.”

“Strider is fine.” He hummed as he led the group out of the forest somehow knowing exactly where to go.

“Is he going to make it?” You had to ask him. The thought of his passing was eating at you.

He nodded, “His best chance is with Arwen. The sooner we get to Rivendell the sooner we will find out.”

“Well then let us speed up our pace then.” You smiled up at him.

He chucked and nodded. The two of you walked in a comfortable silence as you occasionally made sure the chatty Hobbits behind you were faring all right.

“She is pretty.” You spoke after a while of not being able to get Arwen’s face out of your mind.

“Arwen?” He questioned you giving you a curious once over seeing that the statement seemingly came out of nowhere.

“Aye. She is beautiful.”

“She is. Most elves are.” He agreed with you, “She is wed to another healer. Her father set the marriage up ages ago before you great great grandmother was even a thought.”

“Oh, to have the lifespan of an elf!” You laughed feeling the weight of whatever tension you were holding onto about Arwen be lifted.

“I bet it is not all that it seems to be.” You nodded as the two of you continued on the trek to Rivendell occasionally chatting about random things back and forth. You were so caught up in him you failed to notice the Hobbits watching the two you of converse the entire journey back as if you were already a married couple just strolling the lands.

“Welcome to Rivendell miss Y/N.” Aragorn smiled when he saw your gaping face taking in all the scenery stretching beyond your wildest imagination. He too was struck in awe by its beauty the first time he had come across it all those years ago.

“This cannot be real.” You gasped as he took your hand, pulling you along to look along the city.

“Aye. It is. Come, I want to show you your living quarters for the time being.” He pulled you along knowing exactly where to go in Lord Elrond’s castle. He stopped in what you assumed to be the center seeing two people walking towards the two of you. The wizard and a dark-haired elf stopped just short of you.

“Ah, welcome young one.” Gandalf walked up with who you assumed to be Lord Elrond, “It is wonderful to see you in one piece. Unlike our young Frodo.” He chuckled not realizing what he had said sounded bad without knowing how he was.

Your face dropped, “Oh no, did he not make it?”

Gandalf shook his head hastily in realization of his error, “He is fine young one. A few more hours and he would not have made it.” Gandalf stepped forward, placing a hand on your shoulder in reassurance, “Aragorn here will show you to your chambers.”

You cocked your head to the side, “Aragorn? You said that back in Sarn Ford as well. Who is Aragorn?” This really was not your place to speak in front of so many important people. But you were always a curious one, so you had to ask. The worst they could do is refuse to elaborate any further and you would not press. You did understand boundaries even if you pushed them.

Strider looked at Gandalf with a question in his gaze. Gandalf always had a plan. He could see the feelings bubbling to the surface for Aragorn for his newfound human companion that had to be a gift from Valar himself. Gandalf knew the longer he kept his identity from you the harder the breach of trust would befall the two of you.

Gandalf nodded giving his friend a push towards you. He knew Aragorn had to admit this to you himself. You saw Lord Elrond cock his head in confusion watching the interaction go down. He must not have been privy to what had been going down in Gandalf’s mind.

“Ah, miss Y/N. Strider is my Ranger name. It is my identity. As is Aragorn. Son of Arathorn.” He spoke slowly watching as your face twisted from confusion to realization. You may have been from Eriabor, but you surely knew who Arathorn was.

He continued, “I am also called Elessar, the Elfstone, Dúnadan, the heir of Isildur Elendil's son of Gondor."

“A rightful King?” You asked him with widened eyes. You had no clue that you had been traveling with such a company. You had been so crass it made you want to run away right then and there, especially with Gandalf and Lord Elrond’s amused gazes watching the interaction between two humans.

He nodded, “You are correct.”

“Aragorn.” You spoke for the first time giving him a wide smile, “I do like it. It suits a King such as yourself. Would you mind if I continued to call you Strider though?” Bowing your head slightly you felt a rush of embarrassment pulsate through you. Why were you so unladylike? It was all so thoughtless when he was just a Ranger. Not a bloody King of Gondor.

He waited until your eyes met his again, “No need to bow miss Y/N. And thank you. You may call me either.”

A quick head nod was interrupted by Gandalf, “We must be off. Aragorn drop the young one off at her residence. You are free to explore the castle and Rivendell. But we will need you to meet us in the gardens. We have much to discuss before the Council of Elrond shows up in a few days.” Gandalf spoke directly to Strider who just nodded in agreement.

“Come miss Y/N.” He took your hand and pulled you along quickly, “You will enjoy your stay here. It is a wonderful place. There is quite a bit to do, and the elves are very kind.” He tried his best to reassure you knowing that Gandalf was right. You could not go on. You were not prepared for this kind of journey to any extent. Gandalf also revealed of Aragorn’s known feelings for you. You would be a distraction he could not have along the journey.

“It seems like it.” You grinned thankful you were able to do your own thing for the afternoon. You felt bad for Strider or Aragorn. He seemed to have quite a bit of business to attend to.

He stopped at a door letting you inside. It was small but quant and rather extravagant. Fine details laced every surface. You’d come to expect nothing less from the elves, “I will find you later. Enjoy your day miss Y/N.”

The days went by slowly as you got acquainted with Rivendell. You had the sneaking suspicion your journey was also stopping as Strider was not so keen on giving you any information even though he was gone for days on end.

It was on the day of the gathering of the Council of Elrond that you had all but given up. That was until there was a rapid knocking at your door. Thankfully your elf maiden Nimloth had made sure you were dressed as Strider stood before you with a smile on his face, “Come miss Y/N. The Council of Elrond is starting soon.”

“I am invited?” You were sure there was a dumb look on your face.

He nodded slowly, “Gandalf insisted. Lord Elrond relented.”

You followed him in silence to the gathering of the council. You sat behind Frodo closer to Lord Elrond and away from all of the action that was sure to go down.

It was not long after you took a seat that Lord Elrond stood gathering the council to begin, “Strangers from distant lands, friends of old and new,” His eyes met yours giving you a small wink before continuing on, “You’ve been summoned here to answer the threat of Mordor. Middle-earth stands upon the brink of destruction. None can escape it. You will unite, or you will fail. Each race is bound to this fate, this one doom. Bring forth the ring, Frodo.” A shiver ran down your spine at his straight to the point opening. This was not good.

You watched as Frodo stood and dropped the ring on the stump in the middle of the council.

You heard the man called Boromir speak up, “So it is true.” He looked at the ring with something of desire lacing it. You looked at Strider who was watching the man skeptically. He continued, “The doom of man. It is a gift.” Your heart raced at such a senseless statement. You watched as Strider grew angry at his arrogance.

Nevertheless, Boromir continued, “A gift of the foes of Mordor. Why not use this Ring? Long has my father the Steward of Gondor kept the forces of Mordor at bay. By the blood of our people are your lands kept safe. Give Gondor the weapon of the enemy. Let us use it against them.” He passionately spoke hoping to gain the agreement of the Council.

But Strider would have none of that false speak, “You cannot wield it. None of us can. The One Ring answers to Sauron alone. It has no other master.” Your heart rate sped down at the sensible statement to the man you had grown quite fond of in your week or so of traveling. You had grown a strong liking to the handsome Ranger who saved your life without a second thought.

Boromir looked skeptically at Strider, “And what would a Ranger know of this matter?” He asked with a smug look to his face. You wanted to slap that look right off of his face for he had no clue who he was talking to! A king!

But the elf called Legolas stood quickly in his defense, “This is no mere Ranger. He is Aragorn, Son of Arathon.” You watched as his face scrunched up in a minor irritation. He had tried so hard to keep that a secret and now it was out, “You owe him your allegiance.” He finished looking just as irritated as Strider did. It still felt weird to call him Aragorn. So, you kept up with Strider.

Boromir turned back to him, “Aragorn.” He spoke with a hint of shock in his tone, “This is Isildur’s heir?”

“An heir to the throne of Gondor.” Legolas spoke earning a glare from Strider who spoke to him in Elvish quickly. You wondered what he said because Boromir looked suddenly very angry.

Boromir nearly spat with vengeance while looking at the blond elf, “Gondor has no king.” He turned to look back at Strider and shook his head, “Gondor needs no king.”

Gandalf spoke up breaking the tension among men, “Aragorn is right. We cannot use it.”

Lord Elrond stood, “You have only one choice. The Ring must be destroyed.”

The dwarf called Gimli stood then, “What are we waiting for?” He grabbed his axe and sliced at it in attempt to shatter it. Of course, that did nothing but startle the entire council into submission.

“The Ring cannot be destroyed, Gimli, son of Gloin... by any craft that we here possess. The Ring was made in the fires of Mount Doom. Only there can it be unmade.” Lord Elrond spoke matter of factly. You watched as Frodo nearly collapsed from the pain and realization. You laid a gentle hand on his shoulder hoping he would find some solace in the touch.

Lord Elrond continued, “It must be taken deep into Mordor and cast back into the fiery chasm from whence it came.” Your heart was hammering in your chest at the realization. This would be no easy task for anybody let alone a Hobbit and human group, “One of you, must do this.” Lord Elrond commanded sending your head into so many different directions. Would Strider go? Would the Hobbits? Surely you would never be able to go. No, Strider would never allow it. He had made that very clear.

Boromir sighed, “One does not simply walk into Mordor. It’s Black Gates are guarded by more than just Orcs. There is evil there that does not sleep. The Great Eye is ever watchful. It is a barren wasteland riddled with fire, and ash, and dust. The very air you breathe is a poisonous fume. Not with 10,000 men could you do this. It is folly.”

Legolas was angry now. He shot up from his seat spitting his words at the man, “Have you heard nothing Lord Elrond has said? The Ring must be destroyed.”

Gimli spoke up next, “And I suppose you think you are the one to do it!” The tension grew in the air as everyone began to feel uneasy of the task at hand.

Boromir stood next, “And if we fail, what then? What happens when Sauron takes back what is his?”

Gimli continued, “I will be dead before I see the Ring in the hands of an Elf!” He shouted. Your eyes went wide as everything seemed to be going away from the goal at hand, “Never trust an Elf!”

The group erupted in bickering as you and Frodo sat back in fear of what was going to happen. All but suddenly you watched as Frodo stood. He shouted, “I will take it.” It took him a few attempts before the group heard him.

“I will take the Ring to Mordor.” He said again once everyone had quieted down. You gulped as you watched the scene unfold.

He spoke again, “Though, I do not know the way.”

Gandalf nodded, “I will help you bear this burden, Frodo Baggins as long as it is yours to bear.”

You sat further back into your chair as you watched Strider stand, “If by my life or death I can protect you I will.” Your heart sunk at his words. He caught your forlorn gaze and gave you a simple smile. He walked to Frodo and knelt before the small Hobbit, “You have my sword.”

Legolas stepped forward, “And you have my bow.” Your heart raced seeing the elf walk forward. Thank goodness he volunteered. You had heard stories of the mighty elf warrior of Mirkwood.

“And my ax.” Gimli agreed as he walked towards the growing group. You stood from your spot away from the group, closer towards Lord Elrond. Almost as if you had already known your assigned fate.

Boromir joined slowly, “You carry the fates of us all, little one. If this is indeed the will of the Council then Gondor will see it done.” He stood by the group.

Suddenly the other hobbits joined in earning a hard-earned smile from Lord Elrond.

“Nine companions. So be it. You shall be the Fellowship of the Ring.” You watched as Elrond anointed the group complete. Your downcast eyes found Striders who looked at you with all the care in the world. You were more than nervous for the man you had grown so fond of so quickly. Dare you say you might actually have real genuine feelings for the man standing in the group of nine.

“The journey is no place for a lady.” Strider insisted as he pulled you away from the fellowship. He had conjured up a hundred scenarios in his mind and decided you could not come after seeking the guidance of Gandalf. It was far too dangerous for someone as delicate as you were. He shuddered at the thought of seeing you with a sword far too big for you trying your best to defend not only yourself but the Hobbits from the Nazgul. He never wanted to see or put you in such a situation as that ever again.

Your look broke his heart ten times over. It is not like he wanted to leave you in Rivendell with the elves. He would do anything to take you, but it was just far too dangerous. The encounter with the Nazgul did it in enough for him to hold firm on the decision, “I’m not a lady Aragorn, and you know it! But I understand.” You countered but admitted your faults. You were nothing but a lowly peasant from a tiny village near Eriador. You didn’t mean much to middle earth, a place holder for whatever Valar had planned.

He twisted his head to the side giving you a once over and a sly smile, “Not yet anyway.” He walked towards you, stopping right in front of you. Wanting to say the next word so all the elves and Hobbits behind him couldn’t hear. Having to turn your head up to make eye contact he leaned forward and whispered in your ear, “I have every intention of making you one, my lady.”

Your eyes growing wide and the rosiness that formed on your neck and cheeks made the elves behind him laugh in unison amongst themselves. You noticed the confusion lining the Hobbits faces, no doubt wonder what he had said to you to illicit such a reaction.

You looked back to him with the hint of smile dancing on your lips, “They can hear you Strider.”

He brushed the pads of his fingers along your jawline, “Let them.” He had yet to be so forthcoming with his feelings so far. Sure, you had only known him a little over a week but you had not left his side since you met him. It had already felt so long ago. And when the heart knew it knew. It knew it had feelings for the handsome man with the most beautiful blue eyes that looked at you so kindly standing before you.

“Please be safe.” Your eyes welled with unshed tears as you accepted his command. You could not go along with them. You’d be nothing but the burden you so desperately wanted to avoid. But you also did not want to stay in Rivendell. The elves seemed welcoming enough but who knew how long he would have to be gone. You would surely overstay your welcome.

A curt nod came from the man you’d grown to love in such a short amount of time, “As you wish.” He moved his fingers to your eyes brushing away the tears that had managed to spill over, “Do not cry. I will be back as soon as I can.” The moment felt far too intimate to have the whole company trying not to watching but paying close attention anyway, they were not being sly about like they thought they were. They had all grown to adore you in some capacity, more some than others. Pippen was especially sad your journey had ended there. He had quite enjoyed getting to know you along the short trek from The Shire to Rivendell. You were unlike any other mortal he had met.

“I know. But you will find me in Bree.” You answered him letting the tears fall even as you tried your best to stop them.

He shook his head quickly, “No, you will stay here. In Rivendell. You will be protected here. Lord Elrond has assured me of that.” That sounded more like Aragorn than the Strider you knew. It hit you that the rightful King of Gondor was standing right in front of you. No wonder he had seemed so effortless in leading the group to Rivendell. It was in his blood.

“I do not belong here Aragorn.” You spoke in a plea muttering his actual name for just the second time. It still felt foreign, but you welcomed it on your tongue. Aragon, King of Gondor.

His eyes piqued up in utter curiosity at the sudden name change. You had seemed so adamant on continuing to call him by his Ranger name despite finding his true identity through Gandalf, “You can find an identity here my lady. Lord Elrond will not let that falter. Do you not believe me?” He frowned not enjoying seeing you in such a distressed state. He too had grown to have deep feelings for you. You were kind and compassionate. Smarter than you knew. Made him smile more than he ever had in his life in the short time he had known you. You kept him on his toes, and he adored that about you. He grew to like maybe even love you in mere days.

“I am a burden here. Useless. They will get sick of me.” You were pleading to him now. If you knew better you would not be pushing somebody of such high stature.

He gulped not knowing what to say. He could pick up on your stress through your expression and the way you picked at your fingernails. A habit he’d seen both at the Inn and when the group was attacked by the Nazgul. Just as he was about to open his mouth he heard Elrond from behind him. And bless him he thought for he had no idea how to calm your racing mind.

“Have you not enjoyed your stay here at Rivendell? Do you not wish to stay?” Lord Elrond spoke up after hearing the concerns you had spoken in private to Aragorn. He knew he likely should have just stayed quiet and let Aragorn handle the situation. But his overly sensitive ears could pick up the frantic panic in your voice towards the man.

You shook your head quickly, “No my lord. I wish to not be a burden to your home. You see I… I do not have much to offer your city.” You hung your head in shame hoping you did not fully insult Elrond. He had already been so kind to you.

“A burden?” He shook his head walking over to the two of you. All eyes still watching the interaction with the utmost curiosity, “You would hardly be a burden. I will be honest with you. With many of the elves planning to take to the sea I will need some help preparing. You will have a place here. Rest assured.”

A small sigh let out from your chest. Aragorn watched you intently with a bright smile on his face seeing the Elf relax your mind in mere moments. Leave it to Elrond to calm you down so easily. He needed to take a page or two from his book.

“Are you sure Lord Elrond?” You asked timidly to the much, much taller elf. Why’d they have to be so beautiful and intimidating at the same time?

He gave you a quick nod before turning, “I have already made up my mind child. Now let us go. The Fellowship has much planning to do before they are off in a few days.” He motioned for you to follow him.

You turned back to Aragorn before you left, “I wish you luck. I will see you soon. Be safe.” Taking a risk, you grabbed for his hand giving it a gentle squeeze.

“Anything for you my lady.” You caught the brief wink he had given you before bowing his head.

You walked over to the rest of the group, “I wish you all nothing but the best. Please take care of each other. I want to see you all when this is over. Yea?” Your voice broke at the end.

The Hobbits crowded around you giving you one last hug, “We will take your word to heart Lady Y/N.” Pippen smiled as he hugged your side.

“I am no lady.” You laughed once more. Where had they all gotten this ridiculous notion from?

“That’s not what Legolas told us.” Frodo smirked while looking over at Aragorn was deep in conversation with Boromir not paying a lick of attention to the goodbyes you were giving. It hurt him just as much as it was hurting you so he distracted himself with the other man in the Fellowship.

Your eyes found the blonde elf who attempted to feign innocence for the second time that afternoon, “You are a rightful menace Legolas.” You muttered to him almost finding enjoyment out of his butting in.

He shrugged innocently, “I am not sure what you are talking about Lady Y/N.”

You smiled shaking your head while giving each Hobbit a quick squeeze, “Good luck Legolas. Please watch out for him?” Your request may have been too much for the elf and you knew it. A big ask that you would have never of done had you not fallen for him so quickly.

But he agreed, “You have my word, my lady.” He smirked sensing your aversion to the formality you so desperately tried to avoid.

A quick shake of the head and you went off to follow Elrond you was waiting for you patiently in the distance, “I will see you all soon.” You waved, not waiting for their response as it felt to be too much in the moment. It amazed you

“Thank you for your hospitality Lord Elrond.” You said quickly once you caught up to the dark-haired elf.

He gave you what you was sure was a genuine smile, “It brings me a great pleasure to host you Lady Y/N.”

Your mouth gaped, “Is he forcing you to say that?” Surely you were going to have to get used to the title if Elrond had agreed to it. It would be shameful to try and correct the ruler of the land. Even you had some semblance of sanity and preservation.

Elrond shook his head quickly. He gave you a serious expression, one that you were not used to seeing from elf, “Aragorn is the rightful heir to the Throne of Gondor. We recognize the title here in Rivendell. I respect what he wishes. If he has given you that title you should wear that as a badge of honor.”

“You think so?” You thought you might have been pressing your luck with the lord. But he had the patience of somebody you had never met before. He was like no human you knew even if he was half of it.

If he was offended at your questioning he hid it well. A small smile adorned his features as he led you down the path to an empty room in the castle he had placed you in earlier, “I know so. When you have been around as long as I. You tend to notice these small things.”

He stopped in front of a door you had not been privy too in your prior explorations, “Your quarters for the time being. I had Nimloth move your belongings from your previous room to here. I suspect you will find it adequate.”

Your eyes nearly bugged out of their sockets when he opened the massive wood doors. The most intricate carvings of wood was placated on every surface of the room. The detail and craftsmanship was beyond anything you had seen in your tiny little village. You ran your fingers along the different sets of furniture admiring the fine detail that was crafted into every surface, “More than adequate Lord Elrond. Thank Nimloth for me?” You asked after finding all your belongings neatly put away.

He bowed to you. An elf bowed to you! What had this life become? Once so lost now you were somebody a lord found pleasure in conversing with.

“I will see to it. She will fetch you for dinner as well. Welcome to Rivendell.” Without waiting for a response, he shut the doors behind him letting you be with your thoughts. And oh, were they racing beyond your wildest measure.

It had been 414 days since Aragorn and the Fellowship had set out to destroy the ring. You refused to give up any sort of hope as you heard bits and pieces of information from Lord Elrond. You had grown close to elf in your stay at Rivendell. He had given you sage life advice time and time again. You were there for him when Arwen and his sons went off to sea not to be seen again until he were to take his trip. You knew he was utterly lonely and wanting nothing more than to go be with his wife and children. But he had a duty to middle earth that he would see too. He would see that the age of man had a true leader in Aragorn to guide peace and prosperity forward. He knew the age of elf was done and good. Frodo just had to finish it by destroying the ring.

You were sitting in the study reading a text in Sindarin, Lord Elrond had taught you enough of the language to get by, when you heard the doors to the study open with a loud thud. You set the text down on the desk as you peaked your head towards the door.

“Lady Y/N?” Lord Elrond’s voice called out.

You stood from your chair, “Yes my lord?” You caught him smiling ear to ear at the front of the study. A giddy feeling of shock shot throughout your body in anticipation for what might come next.

“They are back.”

You felt like your heart might have actually stopped beating there for a second, “Aragorn?” You asked breathlessly.

“Alive and well. Come.” He motioned you to follow him just like he had all those days ago when you first got to Rivendell.

When you spotted him out in the courtyard you did not give a second thought about being a lady anymore. You all out sprinted to the man who had consumed you whole in his time away. He wrapped you in his arms once you ran right into his chest. Letting out a small grunt from the impact he started laughing. A full-on belly laugh rang out from the man as he held you in his arms once more.

“You came back.” You felt the tears forming in your eyes as you buried yourself in his chest.

He held you in his arms as tightly as he could relishing in the moment of just being there with you, “I gave you my word, my lady. Did I not?” He pulled you back so he could look at you. Ethereal. Rivendell had been nothing but good to you he concluded. He would have to thank Lord Elrond for being so hospitable towards the one he had loved.

“You did. Thank you.” You grasped him a little tighter as he clinged onto you just the same.

You gasped opening the letter from the Shire, “Sam and Rose!” You ran over to Aragorn with a gleeful smile on your face, “Look, they are to be wed in six months! Long after you are crowned King. I would like to go.”

“Ahh, finally.” Aragorn grabbed the letter from your hand with a smile on his face. You admired him as he read the joyous news of the union. He was so handsome. And he was soon to be crowned King of Gondor, Gandalf had shared with the group the night they came back. He was due to be crowned in two months’ time in Minas Tirith. It gave time for all parties to travel to the desired destination to see the rightful heir be crowned king.

“I was worried he would never go for it. We shall go if you will have me?” Aragorn noted as he smoothed out the robes for tomorrow’s crowning. He had felt more nervous of the thought of proposing to you than he was about being crowned King. Valar calm his nerves.

“Aye. I would love to go with you Aragorn. But is that so? Had he been shy about her?” You asked your love that you were almost afraid to admit to.

He nodded recalling all the time Samwise made comments about the Hobbit he had loved from afar, “He was never the most risk adverse. I think the journey changed him.”

“Yea.” You nodded, “It was good for him.”

He nodded his head. His soft expression hardening just a tinge as he took you in, “You are so beautiful. When I did not think that I was going to make it… the thought of you kept me going. I am so honored to have you by my side.”

You leaned your head back into his chest letting the sun beat down on the two of you as he had helped you prepare for the journey to his rightful home. He had been to Minas Tirith many times before, but never as the King. He was overjoyed at the thought of bringing you to his home. He was not lying before when he promise to make you his lady. He was planning to wed to you not too long after he was crowned King.

“It is my honor Aragorn.” You felt him squeeze his hand along your waist.

He had taken you to his new home by horse. Just the two of you heading to his Kingdom. He wanted to spend the time with you and get to know you. And he was more than glad he did. He did not think it to be possible, but he had fallen more deeply in love with you on the month-long trek to Gondor. It had solidified what he had planned to do, propose to you as soon as he was crowned King. He had gotten Lord Elrond in on the plan as well. Surely, you would be more than irritated at the public display, but he knew you would soon get over it.

Your eyes lit up in amazement at the city that had spring up before you once you had finally made it after a little over a month on the road. It was more massive than even Rivendell had been. You had no idea such structures existed within the human world and was slightly ashamed you knew so little about your very own brethren.

“Welcome to Minas Tirith my lady.” A breathy whisper in your ear he watched below as you took in the city.

“This is… incredible Aragon.” Your eyes traveled everywhere in awe as he rode up the main street on his horse. You were pleasantly surprised at all the greetings even you were getting from all the citizens that resided within the city.

He led you straight to the castle at the center of the city knowing you were probably more than overwhelmed. Sure, he had warned you but actually seeing it and doing it was entirely different thing. He bowed to his guards as he made his way to his, and soon to be your, chambers.

“You will sleep here tonight.” He said matter of factly as you explored his chambers.

You shook your head, “I cannot. This is your room. You need to rest before tomorrow! You are being crowned King. That does not happen every day Aragorn.” You protested but he simply shook his head.

“It is all right.” He led you to his bed, “I insist my lady. I have made up my mind and you will not be able to change it.” He grinned beautifully as you sat down on the bed, accepting defeat so easily.

“So stubborn you are.” You mused at him with a delighted look on your face. It felt like a step was being taken as he insisted you stay in his quarters. Protected by the best of the best. He saw you as nothing but precious to him.

He chucked softly, “I must leave you to it. Feel free to explore. One of the guards can show you around if you would like. I must see to a few things before tomorrow. I will see you after the ceremony?” He asked watching you carefully. He wanted you to be comfortable before he left you. He knew it would be tough to go a night without each other after spending so much alone for the better part of a month.

“All right.” You nodded quickly, “I will see you tomorrow, my King.” You grinned right back at him knowing you would never tire of calling him that. It was a far cry from the Strider you had met so long ago now.

He brushed his hand along your jaw. Giving you a brief bow, he spoke once more, “My lady.” Before walking out his chambers and leaving you too it. A wave of exhaustion coupled by the softness of the mattress below you sent you into a slumber much sooner than you were expecting. Maybe you would get the grand tour another time. For now, sleep overtook you..

You watched in awe as Gandalf crowned Aragorn with amazement in his own eyes. You had truly never seen anything so grandeur in your life. All this for your Aragorn. Yet, you felt he had deserved this and so much more.

“Now come the days of the King.” Gandalf’s voice boomed throughout Minas Tirith as thousands stood to watch Aragorn be crowned. You felt your eyes well up with proud tears as the crown laid atop his head. He was so striking. So Kingly. Your breath was taken away as he turned to the crowd. He was your King.

“This day does not belong to one man… but to all.” His voice now boomed filling your chest with the utmost pride for the man you loved, “Let us together rebuild this world… that we may share in the days of peace.” He smiled as the crowd erupted in cheers for their newly crowned King. You joined in happily clapping and cheering along with the city folk.

He sang as the flower petals began to fall. You watched as his company and all those around him bowed to him as he walked amongst the crowd. Your heart sped up rapidly as he was moving along closer, and closer to you.

Elrond pulled you back behind a shield at your protest as Legolas stepped forward. Being none the wiser you shot your elder a precarious look as he told you to be quiet and wait a second and you would see what was going on. He did not lie to you. Lord Elrond never did.

The elf beside you pulled the shield away leaving you staring right into the icy blue eyes of the man you had loved so dearly. You gulped but stepped towards him. He looked just as entranced as you felt.

Feeling overwhelmed at the entirely of the situation you bowed your head to your King once you were mere inches in front of him. Never before had so many eyes been on you. Yet he had made it feel like it really was just the two of you at that moment.

He would have none of that though. He took his hand under your chin and pulled it up, so you were looking at him. He too forgot that thousands of people were watching. It felt like it was just you and him. You had that effect on him. Your doe eyes staring up at him so desperately is what did him in. He could simply wait no longer to have what he wanted… you.

When you smiled at him he did not care any longer. He went straight in for the kiss. You wrapped your arms around him as he spun you around, happier than ever before. He had let his intentions be known. You were his for forever, his forever.

You would be embarrassed later but now it was just you and him. A giggle erupted from you as you hugged him once more. He grabbed your hand and pulled you along as he went to search for the Hobbits.

You took a knee after Aragorn spoke, “My friends… you bow to no one.” A smile erupted on your face as you watched the kingdom take a knee for them. Frodo’s face told the story. Aragorn gently wiped off the tears that were streaming down your face.

“I love you, my Queen.” He whispered in your ear.

“Your Queen?” You gasped looking up to him. Surely you did not think you would take

“Are we to be wed no?” He asked curiously.

“Aye.” You nodded, “I just did not believe to have such a title.” You looked away from him as he directed everyone to stand once more.

“I am King. You are to be my Queen.” He said so matter of factly you could not believe you were questioning yourself.

“As you wish.” You smiled so gleefully not truly believing this was actually your life now.

He leaned in for one more gentle kiss to please the crowd, “My Queen.” He whispered letting you know he had every good intention in the world with you. For the first time in his already long life, he could not wait to get his life started with you.

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