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#the fellowship x reader
She’s the Man (Fellowship x Disguised as Boy! Reader)
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Requested by anon
Warnings: mentions of domestic/sexual assault, nudity, awkward public bathing. Might trigger a gender identity crisis in some of you folks, but don’t worry, join the club—we’re getting jackets made.
Synopsis: after having run away from your noble family and horrid husband, you cut your hair short and start dressing like a boy, presenting yourself as one throughout all of Middle-earth. This becomes hard, though, as you start travelling with the Fellowship, where they start to suspect something is up with their young “boy” comrade.
Restrictions, restrictions, restrictions—that’s all you’ve ever known. You first noticed the tight chains on your soul when you were five, when your mother forbade you from playing with the local stable-hands.
You next noticed it when you were ten, being forced to wear tight corsets to shape your body before it even began blooming.
The final nail in the coffin, however, was when you turned fifteen, and were married off to a local, and quite old tradesman.
Though he dealt in silken fabrics, he was anything but smooth or soft. The night of your wedding was painful in all regards, for at fifteen you weren’t even sure if you were allowed to remove the tight corset during the act.
Five years more of total misery accompanied you, as you were forced to attend noble banquets and celebrations.
You encountered a wide range of people, from the likes of Denethor and his two sons, to the sickly Rohan King. Of course, they did not encounter you, for you were not allowed to speak unless spoken to, which was rare.
The two sons of Denethor and King Théoden’s own son, Théodred, as well as his two cousins, Eowyn and Eomer, were the only ones to initiate conversation with you.
You quickly realized they were better-spirited than their parents, but didn’t have the chance to explore more. A tight grip on your wrist from your husband silenced you, as he tore you away from the circle of new acquaintances quickly.
That night, life in your guestroom with your husband was a living hell, as he reminded you whom exactly you belonged to.
That was the night you snapped.
Bruised and sore, you wept into your sheets. Your husband had long-gone to drink more wine at the party, leaving his young wife alone in a state of mess.
It was around the third hour of crying that you studied the tapestry on the wall above your bed. With hair wettened by your tears clinging to your puffy cheeks, you ran your reddened eyes along the art.
It depicted a strong soldier atop a horse, riding into battle. A sword was drawn, and his short hair flowing in the wind behind him.
Subconsciously, you reached up to your own hair, long in length—your husband’s desire—and pulled on it.
As mounted in every room, two swords crossed each other over a shield, making a pretty decoration above the mantle.
Looking between the bruises inside your thighs, the tapestry and the sword, your jaw quickly set. Your eyes hardened, as you threw the sheets off your frame and stalked towards the mantle.
Glancing over your shoulder, you ensured no one was entering your room. With an emotional mind made up, you removed both swords from the shield.
Hastily, you used one to bar the door shut, and walked to the centre of the room with the other. With no candlelight around, you knelt on the fur rug under a square beam of moonlight, which poured in through the bedroom windows.
You looked at your reflection in the sword, and studied the state of your misery. Despising your parents, your husband and your life, you quickly put the sword to your hair.
With only a second to build the courage, you sliced all long locks from your head, springing forward a boyish look—instantly freeing yourself from your lifelong chains.
Breathing heavily in shock, you looked at the clump of hair on the floor, and picked it up. One hand ran through your now very short locks, and the other fingered the cut clump.
However, shocked breaths soon turned into joyous laughter, as your chest swelled with pride and your eyes watered.
Standing up swiftly, you ran towards the bathroom and opened the drawers. Finding a pair of scissors, you got to work and began styling your hair further.
Soon, you were left looking like a boy, by Middle-earth’s human standards. Your hair barely scraped the nape of your neck at the back, and in front, you had a fringe swooping to one side.
Grinning brightly, and now on a roll, you ran back to the mantle. Opening your husband’s drawers, you quickly discarded your nightgown and slipped his tunic on.
Shrugging the loose fit over your form, you secured it with a thick brown belt, trousers and used your own boots.
Studying yourself in the mirror, you realized this must be how you would’ve looked if born a boy, and you were surprised within yourself over liking it.
Throwing your clump of cut hair into the fire, you soon began tying sheets together. That night, you escaped down the window and fled the city atop a stolen horse, riding towards your new life.
Five years passed by, and you had been on the run ever since. Life was never easy for you, but at least now you were calling the shots.
You had taken to your new life as a boy, like a duck to water, presenting yourself as the rather quiet and distant “Arlo”.
You kept your head down and worked hard wherever you went, whether as a blacksmith’s apprentice, baker’s boy or stablehand.
Your most favourite part of the road, however, was learning to use a sword. With a book stolen from a library and five years’ worth of nights to practice, you had become quite skilled. The spite drove you forward.
You vowed no one would ever best you in combat again, pushing you harder every day. Your best friend and only companion was your horse, Paxton, and together the two of you explored Middle-earth to its very ends.
Along your travels, you had taken to competing in swordfight competitions, where you earned most of your cash. Swindling them, you presented yourself as a weak and frail boy, but in the end ultimately beat them all.
You gained a reputation quickly, and were slightly infamous for your swordsman skills, despite being so small.
It was this reputation that led you to Elrond’s secret council in Rivendell.
Your eyes had gone wide in alarm upon entering the petal-strewn area—where the council was set to be held—for Boromir, one of Denethor’s sons, was there.
You almost turned and ran, but he caught your eye quickly. You didn’t know whether or not to avoid his gaze, but that would bring about suspicion.
He instead smiled warmly at you, and thought nothing of your appearance. You nodded back tightly, and took your seat far away from him.
You ended up sitting next to an elf, for you knew their gender worked differently from yours. He himself looked a little girlish, so you believed he’d think nothing of your appearance.
He studied you with a side-glance as you sat down, and nodded curtly. You clenched your jaw and nodded back, moving your eyes forwards again.
You discreetly let out a sigh of relief, as you found the coast to be clear. No one figured you to be a girl.
Soon, Elrond joined the council. You felt your breath hitch in your throat, as you realized his puzzled eyes lingered on you a little too long.
Worried he’d rat you out, you looked away. Knitting his brows, Elrond slowly tore his eyes away from you, and began the council.
Long story-short, you had been invited to participate on a dangerous quest, all food and expenses paid for. Unable to pass up such a good opportunity for you and your horse, you reluctantly agreed, offering your sword to the hobbit sworn to carrying Sauron’s ring.
The first few nights you kept to yourself, as an awkward air befell the Fellowship—none really knowing each other nor knowing how to interact.
Very quickly, cliques formed.
The hobbits kept to each other in a pack, Gandalf joining them. Aragorn and Legolas joined forces, and Boromir, Gimli and yourself found ranks in solitude.
However, this was not to last forever.
Boromir had attempted many times to strike up conversation with you, as besides Aragorn, you were the only other “man” there.
You kept it short and courteous, but made it apparent very quickly to everyone there that you were in no position to begin friendships. This was a job to you—nothing more, nothing less.
That still did not stop anyone from trying, though. After Boromir, Gimli was next. The topic of the night around the campfire was “women”, as they all discussed their perfect partner.
The conversation divided the group in half, over those choosing to go more physical in nature a direction, and the other half preferring emotions.
Gimli laughed heartily and elbowed you in the shoulder. “Forget this lot, eh? I bet you and I are exactly alike, laddie! Thick thighs and body hair all over! Am I right?”
Laughing nervously, you rubbed at the back of your neck. “Uh…not really…”
He blinked up at you in surprise for a moment, before shrugging his shoulders and pressing on in the conversation. Legolas studied you from across the fire, and made a mental note of your words.
Later on, when you were all setting up your rugs, Legolas approached you. He crouched down by your side and began helping to unroll your pack.
You recoiled from him slightly, and stared up in alarm. He looked back down at you briefly with a tight-lipped smile, and spoke.
“I agree with you from earlier,” he said. “I believe partnership should be about romance and emotions, not physical acts. How about you, mellon nin? Have a lady waiting back at home for you?”
You sputtered up at the prince, before averting your eyes and rolling your pack out faster. “No, I…uh, that’s not really my area…”
Legolas knitted his brows for a moment in confusion, before his lips parted in sudden understanding.
“Oh. Oh! Well, um…do you have a gentleman waiting back at home for you, then?”
Snapping your eyes up at him once more, you flushed.
“No! No! I, look—I’m really kinda tired.” You made a show of yawning loudly. “And I think I just wanna get some rest. I’ll see you in the morning, though…brother?”
Legolas blinked down at you a few times, before speaking and rising to his legs. “Oh! Uh, sure…that’s no hassle. Rest well…brother?”
“Will do,” you drew out, laying down.
He threw a glance over his shoulder at you, before walking away. He caught Aragorn’s eye as he walked past, with the ranger sat there puffing away on his pipe.
They both tightened their lips, looked away and raised their brows, figuring you were just a moody boy.
The most awkward situation of all, however, came a few weeks later. Having managed to sneak away from the Fellowship, you found a nice river, of which you could bathe in.
Paxton followed suit, keeping your towel wrapped over his saddle. He snorted in worry as you began to undress, revealing your body to the running river.
“It’s fine,” you laughed, girlishly. Your voice had returned to its normal pitch, for the first time in a long time. “Just because I’m pretending to be a boy as I travel with them, doesn’t mean I have to smell like one!”
Paxton snorted, and you knew he was telling you to hurry.
“All right, all right,” you laughed again, stepping into the water. You hugged your chest as you dipped below, submerging yourself fully.
Rising again, you exhaled a sigh of relief, and began washing the grime from your hair and face.
You were only in there for so long, however, for soon boyish laughter came from up the forested incline.
“Out of the way!” Pippin called, stripping off his clothes.
“No! You move!” Merry shouted back, also stripping down.
Behind them both, was the rest of the entire Fellowship, save for Gandalf.
Your eyes grew wide in alarm, as you watched them all meet the river’s bank. They then began undressing—Aragorn, Boromir, Gimli, Legolas and the hobbits included.
Soon, they each all jumped into the water, splashing one another and laughing loudly. You found a large boulder within the river nearby, and swam behind it.
Peeking out from the side, you watched them all swim closer in a group to where you were. They began cleaning themselves, and soon just started to wade around—relishing in the cool feeling.
However, as you tried to swim away discreetly, Legolas’ elven ears caught you. He narrowed his eyes, and began swimming over to your rock.
Knowing you would be caught if you tried to flee, you pressed your back firm against the rock, lapping up against it.
Legolas was now upon you, and looked around the corner to find what was behind it. Once he saw it was only you, he beamed brightly.
Rising up out of the water, he folded his arms over the rock and leaned over, looking down at you.
You tried to not let your eyes drift or slip, as you stared back up at him. However, mistakes were made (but clearly not on his parents’ behalf).
“Hello, Arlo!” he announced merrily. “We didn’t know you were also in here.”
Upon hearing your name, the rest of the Fellowship waved you over, asking you to join them.
You chuckled nervously and began swimming backwards and away, speaking as you did so. “Oh, no…that’s quite all right! I, uh…just remembered I actually have something to do—”
“Oh, no! Don’t be like that!” Boromir chastised. He grabbed your wrist gently and reeled you back in towards him and Legolas.
Your shoulders went rigid, as you nearly brushed up against their bare bodies.
Soon, the hobbits, Gimli and Aragorn swam over to you, and you were more thankful now for the darkness of night than you had ever been.
Though, with one slither of moonlight in the right spot, you’d soon be exposed.
“Please don’t leave on our behalf, Arlo,” Aragorn encouraged, placing a hand on your wet shoulder. “It is good for team morale to bond like this. Besides, we’re all men here.”
“Some more than others!” Gimli announced. You looked up in the direction of his voice, and immediately covered your eyes.  
Gimli was stood with his hands on his hips, proudly naked atop your boulder.
“I am the king of this rock!” he announced. “Any competitors who’d like to have a go at pushing me off?”
“Please,” Legolas rolled his eyes, before he, too, swam over to the boulder and climbed atop it. “This will be the easiest fight of my life.”
Catching more than you wanted to see, you made a squeal of rejection, before forcibly pushing your way through the group and heading towards the bank.
Paxton met you quickly, and you swiftly wrapped the towel over your shoulders like a cloak, as to not make it obvious what you were covering, but doing so nonetheless.
“I’m sorry,” you said to them, “but I truly do have something else to do…literally anything else. I’ll see you all back at camp.”
They watched as you left in a hurry, and shared glances with one another. Thinking nothing of it, besides your usual mood, they shrugged and returned to what they were doing.
This continued on for quite some time, throughout the entire Fellowship journey. Though, you never again attempted to bathe with them all around.
Fortunately, your travels soon took you out of the woods, and into the cities. Many fights had passed your small group, smaller now than before, by.
The most recent of battles saw many great feats—the “Battle of the Pelennor Fields” it was called.
In this battle, you had fought formidably. However, the true victory for women that day went to Eowyn. She had removed her helmet in the middle of the fight, pronounced she was “not a man”, like you had wanted to do so many times, and slayed the Witch-king of Angmar.
You were inspired greatly, but also so furious at yourself. You were also slightly jealous over the attention she got.
“What a brave woman,” Gimli would say.
“I’ve never met a woman so bold,” Merry added on.
“Truly remarkable,” Legolas agreed.
The six of you were sat in a stone courtyard together, camping out in the aftermath of the fight. Your jaw was rigid with fury, as you listened to them praise Eowyn over something you had been doing for the past few months.
Rolling your eyes, and making a show of turning over in your sleeping bag harshly, you quickly gained the Fellowship’s attention.
“Oh, and what is your problem, laddie?” Gimli snarked.
“Upset you were outshined by a girl?” Legolas taunted as well.
“You’re not that misogynistic, are you?” Merry chortled.
Aragorn glanced between your turned back and the laughing boys, before taking his own turn at scolding you.
“Arlo, Eowyn was a great asset today, and we are guests in her company. I will not see you sulking towards her remarkable feats.”
You glared at him over your shoulder, before huffing and returning to sleeping on your side. Your arms were folded over your chest, and your body burning in jealous rage.
“Gosh, what is the matter with you?” Legolas asked next, truly fed up with your attitude. “Why are you always in a bad mood?”
“Wouldn’t have taken you for a misogynist either,” Gimli remarked, smacking his gums as he ate a chicken leg.
You stayed on your side with your back turned to them for a few moments, glaring at the wall. However, the rage in your chest soon gave way to a lump in your throat, as you soon felt your secret burst within you.
“I’m not a misogynist…” you spoke up.
“Poppycock,” Gimli called you out.
Sighing, you sat up and looked at them to your side. “I’m not a misogynist, because…I’m not even a boy.”
Silence echoed around the courtyard, as your travel companions blinked back at you.
“What?” Pippin asked, squinting his eyes. “What do you mean you’re ‘not a boy’?”
Groaning through another sigh, and rolling your head, you pressed on. “I mean I’m NOT a boy! I’m a girl, for Eru’s sake…I’ve just been…presenting myself as one, for…reasons.”
“What reason could you possibly have to lie about something like that?” Legolas asked, not entirely believing you.
Feeling the urge to cry rising within you, you inhaled a deep breath and answered. “Nothing you men would understand.”
“I’m sorry,” Merry laughed, “but I don’t believe you at all. There’s no way you’re a girl.”
Glaring at him, you knew his words to be true. Knowing how to prove you were indeed a girl, you reached into your loose tunic, and began unwrapping the bind around your chest.
Pulling it out, you threw it down in front of the now gaping group. Without a shred of chivalry, still disbelieving you to be a girl at all, they glanced between the fabric and your chest, which indeed proved your gender.
“I don’t believe it…” Pippin whispered, staring with wide eyes.
In fact, they all did. With six pair of male eyes on your chest, you felt very vulnerable and covered yourself.
This seemed to jolt them back to their senses, as they coughed uncomfortably and looked away.
The only one still looking into your eyes, was Aragorn. “Why did you feel the need to lie, my lady?”
Being called a “lady” for the first time in five years opened up a floodgate of emotions, as you wept into your hand.
“Yep, definitely a girl,” Merry rolled his eyes. A swift punched to his arm from Legolas silenced him.
Now knowing exactly how to deal with you, Aragorn stood up and crouched before you. He placed a tentative hand on your shoulder, and encouraged the other boys to come forwards, until they were sat all around you in a comforting circle.
“What is your real name, young maiden?” Aragorn asked softly.
Still sniffling into your hand, and bearing a downcast head, you spoke up in a barely audible voice.
“Y/n…” you revealed.
“What a beautiful name, Y/n,” he smiled warmly.
Like a turn of the tides, the boys all around took you under their wing, as if you were their own little sister. Everything about you now made sense, and they felt at ease with you instantly.
And, surprisingly, you found the same about them, regarding yourself. You didn’t at all feel threatened by their presence, but instead protected.
“I’m sorry,” you wept, shaking your head. “I had no choice, they made me marry him, and I-I couldn’t stay there, and then I had to make money so I ran with the lie and—”
They shushed your incoherent crying quickly, and rubbed at both your knees, back and shoulders comfortingly.  
They gained more information about your previous life in those few seconds than they had before in the last few months. They didn’t need to know anymore, nor wanted to, from the sounds of it all.
“Please don’t kick me out of the Fellowship…” you sniffled.
“Why would we do that?” Gimli laughed. “We now have TWO remarkable women in our ranks! Eowyn AND Y/n!
“A great win for us, indeed!” Legolas agreed brightly.
A smile broke through your tears, as they shook you softly and commended your swordswoman skills excitedly.
This carried on for a few moments, before you spoke up again, now smiling around at them through almost dried tears.
“So…you don’t mind about me lying? Or being a…woman?”
They shook their heads and returned your smile. “Not at all, lassie.”
Before the conversation could progress, however, Legolas suddenly recalled something.
“WAIT!” he gasped loudly, thinking back to the river. “THAT MEANS YOU SAW ALL OUR—”
“Let’s agree to never speak of it again, okay?”
“Aye, never again…sister.”
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claraofthepen · 9 days ago
Hello hun! Long time no see! I was wondering if you could please write something about how the Fellowship might react to meeting a Dwobbit, a 1/2 Dwarf and 1/2 Hobbit girl. So her mother was a Hobbit and her father was a Dwarf, so she's around 4 feet tall with the bare feet and thick soles of a hobbit, and the muscles and body hair of a dwarf. And she's very polite and friendly like a Hobbit, but stubborn and good in a fight like a Dwarf. I've had this idea for ages, and I'd love to see your thoughts on it. Oh, and bonus points if she's a Blacksmith or Craftsman too! Thanks so much, really hope you're doing well!
I’m so sorry this took so long. It was at the bottom of my asks and... out of sight out of mind. Pls forgive me.
The Fellowship with a Dwobbit includes:
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He finds it a bit odd, but at the end of the day, he’s a ranger who’s seen too much and just shrugs “half-breed? cool. Wanna go hunting?”. Sometimes, he’ll get a bit annoyed at how politely stubborn they would be, like, at this point he’d rather you just yell like Gimli, because he didn’t know it was possible to refuse to clean the campsite in a million different nice ways. However, he does very much appreciate her being good in a fight, and not completely useless *cough* like Frodo *cough*. He definitely rests his arm on her head, much to her annoyance. She gives him death stares from her 4 ft height and Aragorn just laughs because he can barely see her eyes. She retaliates by elbowing his jambags. Perfect height to do so.
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Confused at first. The only half-breeds he’s ever heard about before now are half-elves. He’s also confused about the beard, and maybe tries to touch it, only for Gimli to almost murder him with his axe. “NOT THE BEARD, YOU LEMBAS-MUNCHER!”. it’s very endearing. But over time, he thinks its really cool, especially since this 4 foot tall person can lift him up and sling him over her shoulder like a potato sack.
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Feels compelled to protect her, like a little sister, because she’s so scrawny compared to other dwarves. Almost has a heart attack when she runs barefoot through a thorn bush. He’ll 100% teach her all about ‘proper’ dwarven fighting, and always has the best advice for crafting and metal-working. Will definitely bring her to erebor post-quest and have her train with some of the masters. Since he doesn’t want her to be left out of the dwarven braiding traditions, he sits down with her every few days and teaches her a bunch of different techniques and styles. He’s the best big dwarven brother ever.
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A bit frightened at first. It’s unheard of in the Shire, to have a mixture of two races. He was afraid of her beard, especially since hobbit males rarely ever get facial hair. But as time goes on, he very much appreciates having a big strong half-breed lady to help protect everyone in battle. 
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Thinks it’s magic. 
Merry and Pippin: 
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Fascinated by it. Especially how she’s taller than them, has huge muscles, and killer foot hair. Super sexy for a hobbit. They have challenges where She lifts them like weights, and she can do both of them at a time if she has the energy. They appreciate how polite she is (they are still upperclass), but enjoy her ability to drink 10 shots without passing out, smoke pipeweed with them, and put everyone in their place if need be. Merry asks for smithing lessons (even if he only ends up using them to sharpen his own decorative swords), and Pippin does too. Only thing is, she doesn’t let pippin anywhere near a forge. She may be a cool half-breed, but she’s not a stupid one.
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Doesn’t even surprise him.
“If you can fight well, you’re very welcome to join us”
Basically that’s all the conversation she has with him. Excepting the nights where everyone in the fellowship gets high to try and forget about problems, then they have insult wars. It’s pretty epic.
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lilyofthesword-writes · 9 days ago
Continue - Part 2
Summary: You have been ripped away from your world and tossed into one that is supposed to be pure fiction. You know the stories, how they are supposed to go. Despite your knowledge, you are unable to change the fates of the Fellowship you had grown so close to.
Pairing: Legolas x Modern!Reader
Word Count: 853
Warnings/Disclaimers: Boromir’s death. Anxiety issues.
A/N: Direct sequel of Continue. So I guess this will kind of be a series now. My thought is to hit specific scenes rather than rewriting the whole book series.
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Pulling the boats ashore, the blonde archer kept true to his word and was sticking close to you, helping you unload the small amount of extra baggage. Now that the Fellowship was away from the safety of the Golden Wood, things could go south quickly, and should the binding magic activate in a battle again, you would be defenseless. Legolas was not about to let you be hurt over something you could not control. It was certainly a weight off your shoulders that someone else knew and understood. Now if you could just get him to be a bit more subtle.
In the lineup where Galadriel was gifting each member their special items, he had made sure you were between him and Aragorn, earning looks from everyone. Merry and Pippin were especially curious, unable to tone down their excited whispers. When it came to boarding the boats, he had you in the same boat as him and Gimli. The dwarf merely chuckled at Legolas’ antics.
With the last bag settled on the ground, you turned just in time to see Frodo meander into the forest. Another pivotal moment in the story was about the play out, a light tingling in your chest to remind you about attempting to interfere. The feeling washed over your entire body, your heart stuttering, when Boromir entered the forest under the pretense of gathering wood. The confrontation that would take place between the man and hobbit was necessary, you supposed, but you still felt for the both of them. Your heart broke a fraction just thinking about their own internal turmoils and how this would push them to the brink.
A feather-light hand grazed your lower back, grounding you in reality. You hadn’t realized how long you were staring off at nothing in particular, or that you were doing it in the first place. Legolas’ blue eyes held a curious worry.
You tried to tell him you were fine, but no sound left your throat. The magic wasn’t choking you this time, just a warning to spur you away from temptation. Clearing your throat of the lump that was forming, you gave him a small smile.
The gears in his head seemed to click into place. Legolas’ gaze locked onto Aragorn across the way with such an intense seriousness that you were surprised no one else noticed. The ranger seemed to understand and slinked away into the forest as well.
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The Uruk-hai and orcs had thinned out and disappeared amongst the trees when Legolas, Gimli and you found Aragorn kneeling beside Boromir’s near lifeless body. It was still happening. Despite Legolas stepping in for you, the Steward of Gondor’s son was still trading his life for that of the hobbits who had grown so dear to him.
This hurt worse than when Gandalf fell. He would return, reuniting with you all in Fangorn Forest. Boromir would not. He would never return to Gondor. He would never see his brother or father again.
Legolas somberly watched the scene unfold at your side. Lacing his free hand with yours, he squeezed gently to break your reverie. You reciprocated his grasp and glanced up at him, his form a touch blurry. That was when you noticed the tears about to break free. Wiping them away with your sleeve, you let out of quiet huff.
From where you were standing, you had a clear view of the two men of Gondor. Boromir’s mouth was curved... up? He was smiling? That was different.
“He’s thanking Aragorn,” Legolas spoke low so only you could hear him.
Your brow furrowed as you stared at the elf.
“For preventing him from making a mistake,” he answered your silent question.
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Legolas was beside you, holding your hand again, the pad of his thumb comfortingly gliding over your knuckles. The now funeral boat was ready to be pushed offshore, Gondor’s pride adorned with his sword and armor. If you didn’t know any better, you’d say he was in a peaceful slumber.
Aragorn rounded the boat and sidled next to you.“Thank you,” he started quietly.
Was that directed at you? “Pardon?”
“It’s fairly clear you know a few things. If it hadn’t been for you and Legolas, Boromir would have met with Frodo. I fear what the consequences of his actions would have been had I not been prompted to follow.” He patted you on the shoulder solemnly before returning to the other side of the boat.
So he did manage to prevent their skirmish... And Frodo... Frodo was able to deal with his own inner demons, deciding for himself to leave without being pushed over the edge through the Ring’s induced betrayal. Did he feel more at peace with his decision than he would otherwise?
Boromir’s body was sent down the river and over the waterfall. Frodo and Sam still separated from the group, heading for Mordor on their own. Merry and Pippin were still carried off by the enemy. The end result was still the same, but the sting of it all was dulled. At least there were still some events that could change.
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The Road Less Traveled (Fellowship x Pregnant!Reader)
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Synopsis: Left by a man who took you out of wedlock, you discover halfway through the Fellowship’s journey that you are, indeed, pregnant. Not wishing for you to face motherhood alone, the Fellowship conspires, regarding whom gets to marry you and help raise your child, leaving you with a tough choice.
🍃 🍃🍃🍃🍃🍃🍃🍃🍃🍃🍃🍃🍃🍃🍃🍃
This was not at all how you saw your life going—both the man leaving you for another woman, and finding out you were pregnant with his baby on a perilous quest, miles upon miles away from the nearest dwelling.
You had been madly in love with this man, unaware he had eyes for another. Your copulating love was taken out of wedlock, a choice you knew had its risks, but Brander had a charming way about him.
You never would have thought he’d leave you. However, one morning, Brander announced the conclusion of your relationship with another woman on his arm.
Heartbroken and enraged, you threw all his clothes from your shack, and took to a horse. Riding swiftly, you headed to the one place you knew hearts were healed; Rivendell.
Upon your arrival, a council of sorts was taking place. One thing led to another, as per usual in your life, and you found yourself on another journey—this time with a higher purpose, and nine other guys.
Things were difficult, but honestly relieving. The fresh air cleansed your soul, as did the healthy relationships you built up with the nine males—proving to you that they weren’t all bad, right on time before you could curse the entire species of XY chromosomes out forever.
However, this was as far as the fun went.
It started with a tiredness the Fellowship brushed off due to your inexperience, and then the lateness of your period. Next, early dawns were spent throwing up in the woods, with whomever was on night-watch holding your hair back, usually Aragorn, Legolas or Boromir.  
You wept slightly when a sparring match with Boromir resulted in a shield hitting your breasts, for they were very tender as of late. The final nail in the coffin was the snubbing of Sam’s usually delicious bacon making you hurl.
Gandalf had taken to speaking with you privately, and asked, in the politest manner possible, if he could assess your womb to find confirmation of another soul.
Legolas approached slowly, crouched down by your side, and spoke responsively in the most apologetic of voices.
“There is no need—I can hear their heartbeat…I am so sorry, Y/n.”
You broke down into tears quickly, and everyone soon knew your predicament that evening. You apologized over and over, and felt utterly mortified. How embarrassing.
They now knew the choice you had made out of wedlock, and were pregnant as a result—something highly frowned upon in human society, and many others in Middle-earth, for that matter. You would no doubt be branded as a “whore” upon your return to society.
You told them all about Brander that night, and opened up to them fully. Jaws were clenched, nervous glances were flashed, and brows were furrowed.
They now had an expectant, first-time mother in their midst, on their way to quite possibly the worst place in the world to take a pregnant woman. Adding onto this, their poor friend, whom they had grown quite close with, was in a horrible situation.
But perhaps it was one they could help with?
Driven by noble blood and true chivalry, the Fellowship started to discuss their options.  
“It’s just awful, what that ‘Brander’ fellow has done to her,” said Boromir, discreetly nodding over in your direction.
You were sat with your head in one hand on a log by the fire, face contorted in misery. Your cheeks and eyes, as well as your nose, were all pink, due to a long while of crying.
Sam sat on one side of you, and held your hand. He reassured you with bright words of soothing promises.
“Don’t worry, Miss Y/n! All will work out! You’ll see! You’re bringing a new soul into this world! That’s nothing to be ashamed of!” Sam would say.
Merry, Frodo and Pippin were on your other side, rubbing your back and holding your shoulder.
“He’s right!” they’d agree, nodding profusely. “You’ll see! This is a wonderful thing. You just can’t quite picture it yet, but you will!”
Gimli, Boromir, Aragorn and Legolas were all huddled in close, standing in a circle. They stood a little further off from the fire, but still caught its glow.
Gandalf was sat on a log himself, puffing away on a pipe. The affairs of human society were not his responsibility, but he offered guidance from a distance nonetheless. He already knew all would work out, but was the only one there oldest and wisest enough to realize so.
Legolas’ arms were folded over his chest, as were the three others’ he stood with. “She’ll be shamed wherever she goes, and her child will be considered a bastard. Truly awful…I feel compelled to help. What can we do?”
“Well, to avoid public slander,” Aragorn spoke up knowingly, “she’d have to be married.”
“Very well and all,” Gimli whispered back, “but were you perhaps not present when she said the scoundrel ran off with another filly?”
“He was not whom I was referencing,” Aragorn mentioned. He threw a studious glance in your direction, and spoke again. “She is a fine young lady, with a strong heart and homely nature. She would make a wonderful wife, and I feel it our duty as her friends to make sure she becomes so.”
“You mean for us to marry her?” Legolas asked, incredulously. His head lowered in shock as he spoke, and a brow arched.
The guys, save for Aragorn, who overlooked it all, glanced between each other tensely, unsure if the alarmed glint in their eyes was competition or fear.
Boromir was the first to speak up.
“I will do it, in a heartbeat!” he said. “You are right, Aragorn—she is a wonderful young lady, and deserves to be wed in time for her child. I will care for them both.”
“Well, now hold on a moment,” Legolas snapped, glaring across at Boromir. “Why do you get to marry her? I am much closer in age to her than you are…figuratively speaking, at least. I should be the one to marry her—we get along best.”
“You?” Gimli snorted. “You will outlive her in the blink of an eye.”
“Oh, and you won’t?” Legolas said back. “None of us implied romance anyways, Gimli. I’d merely be a lifelong friend and guardian for her and her child. I’m the most suited out of everyone here to provide for her—”
“Because you’re a prince?” Boromir interjected, narrowing his eyes.
“Not just because of that,” Legolas bit back, squaring up with Boromir slightly. “But what of it regardless? What does it matter how I provide for her? I plan on renouncing my title and making a life of my own anyways. I might not get the chance for a child of my own, and I can help Y/n raise hers.”
“She’s not some puppy, laddie,” Gimli snorted back. “You both want to store her away in a little cottage or unit somewhere drab. I can provide her with culture! Dwarven culture! Her little one deserves to grow up in grand halls and eat ripened meat!”
Aragorn looked between the unfolding drama, and soon raised a hand before you could become even more distressed. Fortunately, you hadn’t heard a thing of their hushed conversation.
“That is enough,” Aragorn said. “I’d offer to marry her myself, but…well, I do believe you three are better suited than me to provide a stable life for her. It is ultimately up to Y/n. All either three of you can do is offer your hand in marriage to her, and see what she says.”
Glares were thrown between the three potential suitors, as each wondered who’d be the first to turn around and run towards you.
As it turns out, all three turned on their heels at the same. They nearly tripped over one another. However, they stopped almost immediately, for someone on the other side already had the same idea.
“It is quite all right, Y/n,” Frodo said, down on one knee before you, and holding your hand. “The Shire will accept you, and I can just say I fell in love on the road and married you immediately. I have a big house now left all to myself, with many rooms. You can have one to yourself, as can your child. Bilbo did the same for me when I was young.”
You were crying again, but this time out of happiness. Your other hand was placed over your chest, as you smiled down at the kind hobbit with a wavering lower lip.
“Oh, Frodo, that is so incredibly kind, I can only say—”
“DON’T SAY ANYTHING!” Legolas shouted, rushing forwards. He nearly shoved Frodo out of the way, and took his place holding your hand swiftly.
“Y/n,” he began, sincerely, “I’ve always felt that you and I have had a…special bond since beginning this journey together. I can provide you with a cottage in the forest, and true protection. I’m an archer and an elf—your child will learn many life skills with me as their parental guardian. And, furthering this, after you’ve moved on from our world, your child will surely be left behind. I can ensure they are well-cared for up until their own departure!”
“Oh, Legolas, I don’t know what to...” you went to say, holding his hand with both of yours. You were truly starting to get overwhelmed with happiness and relief.
“Oh, shove it, pixie!” Gimli shouted from behind Legolas. He, too, stole the snarling elf’s place, chivalrously removing his helmet as he did so. “Lass, I know I may not be your usual type, or blonde, but I am asking for your hand as well. I can offer you so much in Dwarven society. The women are strong, and you will find ranks in them! Your child will be given an equal chance, no matter the gender, to be themselves! Life in the halls is a true marvel—”
“Enough, the both of you!” Boromir shouted next. He tugged Gimli by the beard and threw him away. “Y/n, you and I are both humans. I understand you and our shared culture better than anyone else here! Please, nothing would make me happier than to provide for you as my wife. Not to mention, the child will look most like me, racially-wise.”
The hobbits all looked between each other with shocked smiles, intrigued by the situation, and Gandalf and Aragon merely shook their heads.
Legolas grabbed hold of Boromir’s shoulder and stood him up. “Race has nothing to do with it! If we’re really going to narrow this down to looks, I am the tallest! That is highly desirable in a husband! Y/n and her child will live a wonderfully secure and safe life with me. You need to back off.”
“Why don’t you make me?” Boromir bit back.
Before a fight could break out between the two of them, Gimli hopped into the middle and added his own string of harsh words.
The three suitors of differing races soon began to bicker between themselves, leaving you sat on the log very stunned indeed.
However, after a long while of listening to them argue over who gets to marry you, you put up your hand and silenced them. Although, it took a good few shouts until they shut up completely and curiously blinked down at you.
“Boys. Boys! BOYS!” Once the attention was on you, you spoke again. “I am so incredibly flattered by your equal devotion, it has truly made me feel better about everything, I not get a say in whom I marry out of everyone here?”
Legolas moved his body slightly, so he stood facing you straight. “Well, whom do you choose, my lady?”
Frodo had backed off entirely, but shared a lipped smile with you, ultimately letting you know the offer was still on the table regardless. Boromir, Gimli and Legolas all stared at you optimistically, leaning forwards as they waited for your reply.
Stumped by so many choices, and considering you didn’t even know this would be a part of your life plan up until five hours ago, you went with the smartest choice; waiting.
“These are all very early days…” you began. “I’m very overwhelmed by all the offers, and still getting used to the idea of motherhood, and now marriage—”
You took a calming breath.
“You’re all so sweet, and I truly appreciate your support, but…could I perhaps sit on it for a while, and return with an answer at a later time? This is a very big decision, as you can all imagine.”
They quickly agreed, and nodded their heads vehemently.
“Take all the time you need!” they said reassuringly, in one form or another.
That night, they all waved sweet “goodnights” over their shoulders to you, and even gave up their cloaks and packs to create what they deemed the perfect “mother’s nest” for you to sleep on.
It was all very sweet, and warmed your heart. However, although half the problem was solved, you were presented with another; who on earth were you going to choose to marry and raise your unborn child with?
Actually, the more you thought about it that night, as you fell asleep with nine friends protecting you as you slept in the middle, like a herd of animals keeping their mother-to-be safe, the more you realized you already knew exactly whom you wanted to live with.
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beenovel · 21 days ago
The fellowship responding to you, a gen z that fell to middle earth, saying “I’d die for you”
Aragorn: *grabs you by the shoulders and looks deep into your eyes* "You will not, I promise you that"
Legolas: *visibly confused* *thinks he misheard you* "I- what?"
Boromir: *Hugs you tightly to his chest* "I would rather you didn't"
Gimli: *Looks sort of frightened and puts his hand over yours* "
Frodo: *immediately starts crying*
Sam: *staring at you with mounting horror* *whispers* "please don't*
Merry: *the facial equivalent of "?????????!?!?!?!?!"*
Pippin: *nervous laughter* "What the fuck?"
Gandalf: *you’re not entirely sure how but he knows the meme* Then perish
Rest of the fellowship: *staring in horror as you cackle*
Inspired by this amazing post by @trxblemaker.
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tolkien-fantasy · 23 days ago
Lotr Imagine; Being an Oracle and meeting up with the Fellowship of the Ring
You had met up with the Fellowship shortly after they departed from Rivendell. Headed to Lothlorien yourself, it felt right to travel with them, given that you likely would’ve kept meeting up anyways. Besides, it was safer this way - an orc that kills the oracle was an orc to be feared, so this offered you extra protection. When they met you, many were mildly suspicious, yet Gandalf insisted they let you camp with them regardless. Your reputation seemed to proceed you.
“I too have heard tell of the Oracle who speaks with the Gods.” Gandalf chuckled as you sat around the fire. Heads turned in your direction.
“So it is true, then? This is the young woman who brings word from Eru himself?” Aragorn asked.
“Yes.. I was unaware that I was that well-known.” You smiled sheepishly.
“Speaking with the Gods is no meager feat, young lady. Naturally folks are going to talk.” said Gandalf.
The next couple hours, and soon the next day, were filled with questions. Particularly from the Hobbits, but some from the others as well. What were the Gods like? Have you really spoken with Lady Nienna herself? Are there other Gods we don’t know about?
“One of my favorites to speak with is Thor.” You giggled as the Hobbits huddled alongside you.
“Who’s that?” Pippin asked.
“He is the Norse God of Thunder and Storm, protector of Humanity and slayer of Giants.” You smiled knowingly, before turning to look at Gimli, “And, his mighty hammer, Mjolnir, was forged by Dwarves.”
Gimli looked down bashfully, but smiled all the same.
“Thor’s a massive flirt too. Just a fun fact.”
“You’ve flirted with the God of Thunder?” Merry asked, bewildered. The idea of someone communing with Deities was all too confusing, but undoubtedly fascinating.
“Hell yeah I did.” You laughed. Gandalf chuckled too, knowingly.
Night had fallen once again as you drew closer to your next destination along the way. Sitting around the fire with the Humans, Legolas and Gandalf, while the Hobbits slept soundly nearby.
“Lady Nienna was right about you, Gandalf.”
“You’ve spoken with Lady Nienna?” Boromir asked.
“Yes, I think. I saw her in a dream. Very tall and beautiful, cloaked in a veil, with glowing tears and eyes?”
“Yeah, that certainly sounds like her.”
“We talked for a long while. She told me to come here. She told me about you, Gandalf. She’s very proud.”
Gandalf smiled sadly.
“I’m glad to hear that.”
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lady-latte · 28 days ago
Hi hun, I don't know if your requests are open right now, but I could really use some sort of comfort Imagine right now and I was hoping I could come and ask you. It doesn't even have to be a full set of Headcanons, just a short blurb about some Characters will do if that's fine with you.
I've been really struggling with my chronic illnesses lately, and I keep imagining the Fellowship taking care of me, so I thought I'd ask for an Imagine about that. I have a really weird condition where my right leg is physically longer than my left, which causes really intense pain in my hip and leg and also difficulty walking, so I've been really struggling with that lately. There's also the chronic fatigue from my sleep apnea, I'm absolutely covered in bruises that I don't remember getting, the classic anxiety and depression and executive dysfunction.. it's just been a difficult week tbh.
I'd appreciate any kind words right now. Thanks for being so kind and supportive to me, it means more than you could ever know. I hope it's alright that I ask this of you. Godspeed, hun 💕
Comfort HC’s
Platonic!Fellowship x Reader
Post LOTR; Comfort
Warnings: Mentions chronic pain, anxiety, depression, PTSD
A/N: Hello Ro! I’m sorry this took a while, I hope the pain eases soon and that these headcanons help. If you ever need to talk, my DM's are open anytime!
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You’ve known the Fellowship ever since you were a little girl. You met them when your parents sent you off to Imladris to seek the aid of Lord Elrond, one of the greatest healers in Middle-Earth. For you had an unusual physical condition, where your right leg grew longer than your left. It made walking difficult and a burning pain to spiderweb from your hip down.
Lord Elrond tried everything he could in his power to help you, and yet there was little he could do except ease the pain. No amount of magic can prevent physical growth.
The tears that welled up in your eyes that day pained him more than any wound can. A child, barely twelve years old, experiencing such excruciating pain right in front of him, and yet he can’t do anything about it. And from that moment on, he promised to you that he’d do anything he can to help you, and care for you.
So with the permission of your worried parents, Lord Elrond gave you an offer to stay in Imladris for as long as you wish. To heal and receive the care you need. Which you kindly accepted.
For years up to adulthood, you lived in Imladris; drinking Athleas tea every morning and night for the pain and sleep apnea. While it wasn’t a cure, it helped make life much more bearable. Allowing you to enjoy certain activities and walk around with only half the pain.
During those years you became great friends with the Fellowship. For they travelled often to Imladris to visit and rest between trips. They became your family, always joking and telling stories of their travels; teaching you new tricks and how to defend yourself. And in return you’d tell them stories of the elves around you. How the Ellon in the smithy loves to tease the Elleth in the bakery. Or how the children would braid flower crowns for you.
The boys know of your difficulties with your leg and illnesses. They’re constantly worried for you; asking how you are, helping when the pain begins to spike and holding you when you begin to cry. Everytime it starts getting bad again, they tell you it's okay to feel weak and to cry. That you don’t have to be strong all the time.
Aragorn is surprisingly soft despite his tough exterior
He believes that crying and venting about your frustrations is the most healthy way to deal
So on days you are having a rough time he’ll sit down with you in his lap, holding you tightly into his chest. One arm around your body and one hand in your hair
Aragorn will let you cry and yell into him, all while pressing small kisses into your hair
He’s not a very wordy person, so it’s not often he will whisper sweet things, but when he does. It’s always so soft and helps relax you
“Deep breaths Hun, It’ll be okay”
A soft baby- an absolute angel when it comes to comforting you
Legolas is very big on grounding yourself and staying focused on your surroundings
So when he notices you’re beginning to have a rough time, nearing a panic attack, He preps a cup of Athleas tea and brings you to a private area
He’ll have you sit between his legs, and his arms gently wrapped around you torso
Legolas will have you ground yourself by telling him 3 things you smell, feel, hear and see
“Close your eyes, little one and listen… Listen to the birds sing”
As you begin to relax, he whispers praises, proud of how strong you are
“You’re doing so well, I’m proud of you”
I love this man oml
If you’re bedridden due to the pain he’d 100% do whatever you ask of him
Need more pillows? Steals them from every. Single. Bedroom.
“Boro- holy crap how many did you take!?”
“Uh.. all?”
There is now a national shortage of pillows
Need more warmth? Will make a nest of blankets and wrap you up in his cloak
Boromir is there for you every step of the way
If you start crying, He might cry with you- absolutely hates seeing you in such pain
“I’m sorry- Im so sorry Darling. I wish there was more I could do for you”
In true Gimli fashion, when he notices your anxiety he 100% wants to fight whoever triggered it
He gets a bit aggressive in the beginning, insisting to fist fight your problems away
but when you tell him that it’s something that can't be fought off, that its a constant thing, he calms down and just
“Oh oh wait Im so sorry”
Cue soft Gimli
Will rub your back affectionately while speaking softly
Asking if there is anything he could do to help
Another babe who will do anything you ask of him
If the panic attack happens in public, Gimli will bring you somewhere more private
He’ll shield you with his body from the eyes of the public and glare at anyone who dares stare
Not very good with soft comfort but if you ever need to feel safe and protected go to him
“Dont worry Lassie” (head pats) “I’ll protect you, You’re safe now”
Sweet darling baby angel bean
He completely understands your anxieties and pain
Frodo did carry the one ring across middle earth after all
He absolutely has PTSD from it, so there have been many times the two of you would stay up late together when you can’t sleep, drinking tea
You find comfort in the fact that he’s quite similar to you, and vice versa
Most often, you guys will talk about what's going on and comfort each other
On the nights the two of you don’t wish to talk, Frodo will read stories to you
His voice is so soft and comforting, It never fails to lull you to sleep
“None of them noticed a large, tawny owl flutter past the window” He reads aloud, peaking up at you and notices the way your lips part, a soft snore emitting. He hums, “Goodnight Y/N, sleep well”
This hobbit is such a softie
He understands that with mental disorders, you may forget to eat or care for yourself
So he always watches you, making sure you’re eating and you aren’t
Oh boy
Will cook your favorite meals and make you sit with him to eat breakfast, lunch and dinner
“Ah, I hope you enjoy the meal. I made your favorite!”
“Thank you, Sam..”
Ensuring you drink your water
Or if you don’t like plain water, make some tea. Anything really to make sure you get your fluids
As a gardener, Sam is busy quite often, tending to, well, gardens
He’ll set up a picnic nearby for you with finger sandwiches, drinks, and fruit that way you had company and can relax fully in the peacefulness of nature
Definitely will give you a bouquet of flowers at the end of the day
“I picked these for you Y/N!”
Merry and Pippin
Okay so these two are together cause well. They’re always together
Except that one scene
Absolute kings of distraction when you’re feeling depressed
You might want to just sleep it off- but we all know that never really helps
They’ll make so many jokes and sing and dance around just to make you laugh
Which often leads to them singing even louder and cruder, annoying every elf in the area
“Lucky Annie was a lady who’d been pleased by many men- They all would sail away but then they’d come right back again”
Yes they sing sea shanties
On days that you don’t have the energy to deal with such shenanigans, they’ll tone it down
The three of you will often be found in the field during these days, Tossing a ball back n forth
Or giggling amongst yourself, gossiping about the rest of the fellowship
“I don’t know Merry, Gandalf is kinda hot in an old man way”
“Pippin what the hell”
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lilyofthesword-writes · a month ago
Continue (Legolas Oneshot)
Summary: You have been ripped away from your world and tossed into one that is supposed to be pure fiction. You know the stories, how they are supposed to go. Despite your knowledge, you are unable to change the fates of the Fellowship you had grown so close to.
Pairing: Legolas x Modern!Reader
Word Count: 1,378
Warnings/Disclaimers: Starts off with angst but there is fluff at the end.
A/N: I didn’t realize what I was really doing until I was about halfway through. This is entirely self-indulgent, pulling bits of my life into the writing. Not sure why both of my Legolas oneshots have been starting angsty. I guess writing with him in mind is helping through my own chaos?
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The calm breeze that flitted through Caras Galadhon cooled your skin but did nothing for your mind. It all hurt so much. You knew what would happen to Gandalf - how he would fall. The books and movies all depicted him returning as Gandalf the white. Yet, it did nothing to soothe the torment you felt as he spiraled into darkness with the Balrog. You knew and could not do anything to help the wizard who had taken you in when he found you on the roadside.
Only one person truly understood your plight: Lady Galadriel. As she locked eyes with each of you when you had arrived, entering your minds, she stayed in contact with you the longest.
You have forbidden knowledge...
Your mind would not answer her back. All you could do to confirm was stare back with pleading eyes.
You are not from Middle Earth, and yet you know for certain what has yet to pass.
As your company was released to go and rest, Galadriel had stopped you, wishing for a continued audience with you. Who were you to deny her?
You didn’t miss the way your friends worriedly watched you depart with her, especially Legolas. Both he and Aragorn were highly observant. You knew they could tell something was off with you, but they were trusting you enough to say something when you were ready.
Galadriel led you across various stairways to her private space containing her mirror. Nervous anxiety washed over you as she circled you intently.
“You knew Gandalf’s fate, yet you did nothing. Why?” Her voice was cold, understandably so. They had been close for hundreds of years. Of course she was upset when she figured out that you could have saved him and did not.
“I couldn’t,” you spoke softly, afraid to raise your voice in case your body decided to revolt.
Her head angled as she observed you, soft blonde hair gliding across her shoulders. “Tell me, what is the future of the ring?”
“Fro-” Your throat immediately closed up, nearly choking you in the process.
Galadriel’s hand flew to her chest in surprise before she rushed to your side. “Breathe, child,” she spoke barely above a whisper as she urged you to sit.
Once you were able to take in air without it feeling like sand grinding within your windpipe, Galadriel started again. “I have not felt magic quite like that before...”
“I want to tell you, tell you everything,” you rasped, trying to keep the tears at bay. “But... I can’t.”
The ethereal elf in all her grace settled before you. “This form of binding magic is not one I can undo. It is not of this world. When I learned you were not of Middle Earth, I hardly imagined you were of an entirely different realm.”
You stared at the lush grass and moss beneath you and chuckled. “You know... Thousands upon thousands of people where I’m from know the stories of this world. Most would give anything to live it. Maybe fix things. Bet none of them ever thought about this.” You gestured to your throat. “If I can’t change anything, then why am I here?”
Taking your hands in hers, Galadriel beckoned you to meet her gaze. “No, you may not be able to change what has been written. Perhaps your true purpose lies where the story has ended.”
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Your meeting with her ended shortly after, and she escorted you herself back to your companions. They had all waited for your return before retiring to bed, or at least they all tried. Pippin was the sleepy straggler. When you thought they were all out like a light, you quietly meandered off to the river in a more secluded area which is where you found yourself currently, staring at the water continuing down its path unhindered.
“What are you doing all the way out here?” a soft voice came from behind you.
“Legolas!” You sucked in a breath and chided, “Don’t scare a person like that!”
“My apologies,” he sniggered, taking a seat next to you. “My question still stands.”
“I guess... I guess I just wanted to think,” you sighed, returning your attention to the river.
“Think about what?”
Without even looking, you knew his eyes were sparkling with curiosity. They always were when he spoke with you. Although you suspected that this time that curiosity would be at least partially dimmed by recent events.
“Gandalf and what comes next...”
Legolas fell silent as though he already anticipated that answer. As you lost yourself watching the shimmering water, a warm hand laid overtop of yours on the grass beside you.
“Do not blame yourself, Mellon nin. We all regret his fall, but... For his sake, we must continue onward.”
You couldn’t bring yourself to answer or even look at him, feeling the tell-tale tightness of your throat. You desperately wanted to tell him, warn him of the following events, but that was not going to happen.
“There it is, again,” he muttered under his breath.
Chancing a glance at him, you chirped, “What?”
“I-it is nothing. Nothing you should concern yourself over.” His smile did little to hide his concern.
“Legolas,” you warned.
“I- I don’t-,” he stumbled over his words. “I didn’t want to worry you. At certain moments, there is a change in the air about you... Almost as though it is constricting your being...”
Your eyes nearly bulged out of your head, and you turned away from the river to face him directly. “You can feel it?”
His surprise painted his porcelain face. “Yes... I did not wish to say anything for fear of frightening you in case you did not realize what was happening.”
“Lady Galadriel called it binding magic. It makes itself very well known...” you shuddered.
“By keeping you from acting on what you know will come to pass?” he finished.
“How did you-”
“It was more of a guess, and you confirmed it. Back in the mines, there were multiple times where you would have revealed yourself but that magic stopped you. I felt the energy when you turned to Frodo as he was attacked by the cave troll. It was the same, if not amplified, when you tried to run after Gandalf as he distracted the Balrog. Your actions seemed... Early. Though I suspect Aragorn may have been the only other person to take notice.”
You turned away, guilt rising in your stomach. “Are you... Angry with me? Angry that I didn’t save him?”
“No,” his answer was immediate. His free hand found purchase under your chin, turning you to look at him again. “It’s not that you did not save him. You could not save him. When you froze going to Gandalf’s aid, the look in your eyes... It was not fear for your own life but fear for his. Had it not been for the magic that binds you, you would have been at that bridge before we could stop you.”
Closing your eyes, you pulled in a deep breath. “So, what comes next?”
“I suppose that depends on you. What do you want to come next?”
“I... I want to continue ahead with all of you. Lady Galadriel may be right. My real purpose may be what happens after all of this is done. I want to be there for it.”
Legolas’ hand moved from your chin to your cheek, stroking it with his thumb. A bright smile painted his lips. “Always so determined. You have fascinated me since Imladris.” The hand that remained on yours traveled to the other side of your face. “Should you wish it, I will remain by your side to help you through whatever the fates have in store for us and what may come even after all is said and done.”
Heat rose up your face to your ears. The elf you had fangirled over in your world was saying these things to you, lifting you up from the creeping depression that threatened to over take everything.
“I would like that.” You smiled as he rested his forehead against yours, thinking of the Lady of the Woods’ words.
Life continues beyond a story’s ‘Happily Ever After’ and ‘The End’. You decide what happens from there.
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game-ofthe-company · a month ago
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Aragorn looked your way as you and the hobbits broke down crying after loosing Gandalf.
They had lost a friend but to you it was like losing family as you had spent most of your life traveling with Gandalf.
Aragorn felt sad seeing you like this, he always hated seeing you upset.
Any normal time he would’ve done anything to comfort you, but with uruk-hai following behind he knew you all would have to keep going.
“We have to keep on and make for Lothlorien.” He spoke trying to keep a steady voice.
“Give them a minute!” Boromir exclaimed.
“No, he’s right. We are still being chased, we’ll have time to mourn when we’re safe behind Lothlorien borders.” You replied defending Aragorn’s words.
He gave you a weak smile as you wiped away your tears and help the hobbits up from the ground. He could still feel the tugging in his heart to comfort you and be there for you as he always was.
Yay gif imagine 2 😊
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“Thanks, I owe you guys one.” (Fellowship x Reader)
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Synopsis: you’re being chased by men who enjoy hunting down humans, but fortunately, you run right into the middle of the Fellowship’s camp.
The night was dark and barren throughout its snowy wasteland—a temporary home for the Fellowship to call that evening, as they set up camp around a flickering fire at the base of a pine tree-lined slope.
Low hushes made their way across the cold camp, as each tired member spoke of their glum day through the snow. They had since trekked through the forest to find their little snowy slope—a haven for mortal and immortal eyes alike to observe the stars above.
It was almost as if you could see them clearer in the piercing cold, Pippin mused at one point. Legolas softly agreed, and confirmed that to be true.
However, for all the distant howls of wolves and hoots of owls, none could possibly expect nor imagine what was happening on the other side of the slope.
Y/n ran desperately through the snow, chattering through her teeth as every inch of the white powder slowed her down. The stars above taunted her and reminded the girl of another wasted night.
Three days she had been on the run from these cruel hunters—hunters well-versed in the game of mounting human heads on their log cabin walls.
Naturally, as to be expected of a fatigued human, Y/n’s strength failed.
She could hear the thudding of the hunters’ dogs behind her—gaining with every second she slowed. They were unmistakably some variation of wolves, as evident from the gnashing teeth and vicious growls.
She next made the mistake of looking over her shoulder. She barely had time to dodge, as a homemade arrow whizzed past her ear. It caught the flesh and produced a new wound. It matched the dripping gash on her temple, leaving a clear trail of red in the white for them to track.
A sharp gasp escaped Y/n, as she ignored the arrow and instead paid attention to what it meant—they were gaining on her, and very fast, too.
“You can run, but you can’t hide!” one of the cruel men laughed out. He had his bow forever ready in his hands, always pointed at Y/n.
The other two also had bows, as well as long hunting knives. They glinted bright in the moonlight, brighter than the teeth of the wolves.
Y/n willed her legs to go faster up the slope, praying for it to descend soon. However, the snow was thick—up to her knees. She would not go any faster, not at this rate.
“Back off, you spooky bastards!” Y/n shouted in vain. It sounded more annoyed at this point, though, but fear was evident in her tone.
At the bottom of the slope, Legolas lifted his head and knitted his brows. He sat on a log before the fire, and looked at all his friends to see if they had heard what he did.
Aragorn caught his blonde friend’s antics, and questioned him aloud. “Legolas, what do you sense?”
At this, all in the camp lifted their own heads, and paid attention to the elf.
“Foul language and foul omens approaching,” he replied.
Legolas threw a glance over his shoulder and up at the slope, where he eyed it off apprehensively. With the dawning of hunting howls, he quickly shot to his feet, as did everyone else in the camp.
“Is it wargs?” Boromir asked, breathlessly.
“No,” Gandalf answered, drawing his staff at the ready. “These are no wargs…but they are not entirely friendly, either.”
The Fellowship, practiced in their stances, formed a protective huddle around the hobbits, and drew all their weapons. Their eyes, either wide in alarm or narrowed with precision, sized up the snowy slope, where the howls were growing from.
Now at the top, Y/n gasped—for two reasons. At the same time a wolf lunged at her from behind, she tripped over her feet, and fell down the long slope. The wolf did the same and skidded to the side.
Both tried desperately to find their footing again, to which Y/n did. She ran down the snow at a rapid pace, yelping with every snap at her ankle.
“There!” Gimli shouted, pointing up at the approaching girl.
“Shoot the wolf, Legolas!” Aragorn ordered.
In a swift manner, Legolas did as told. The next yelp upon the slope came not from Y/n, but from the nearest wolf, as it tumbled down the slope behind her—dead and leaving a reddened trail of its own.
Y/n caught this exchange and snapped her gaze down at the campfire. Before she could register the ushering hands of the hobbits for her to hurry towards them, the shouts of the men from atop the slope caught her ears.
Her heart hastened in its pace, as did her legs, as she realized they were angrier than ever at the shooting of their hound. They yelled louder and drew more arrows, running faster now downhill to catch up with her.
Y/n looked away from the men and continued running down the hill, where she soon met a flatter surface again. With the acceleration of her descent thrusting through her legs, Y/n, melting in her knees like jelly, flew through the huddle of foreign men.
They welcomed her quickly with a parting of Aragorn and Legolas, as they herded her in with protective ushers of their arms. She then soon found her way to stand with the hobbits in the middle.
In a warrior’s instant, the front line of the Fellowship’s weapons were drawn again, this time pointed at the hunters, rather than their hounds, which had since been called off.
The men slowed their gait to an arrogant strut at the bottom of the slope, and they upheld two fingers each to halt their snarling wolves.
“Good evening, gentlemen,” the leader of the hunters greeted. He had a coat made of animal fur, and a flappy hat of the same material. A row of human teeth crafted a necklace around his collarbone.
“We are not looking for trouble, but we have no issue getting involved,” Aragorn cut to the chase. His sword was drawn idly, and his expression unnervingly neutral.
Y/n creased her brows and sucked on her lower lip, with a quick glance thrown at the back of Aragorn’s head. She soon looked back at the leading hunter, however, the moment he cracked a breathless smile and spoke again.
“I can assure you; we’re not looking for trouble either,” he began. “Just hand over the girl, and we’ll call it even for killing our dog.”
“Try it, I dare you,” Legolas warned, tightening the drawstring of his bow. “I’m in the mood.”
The man huffed a laugh again, and momentarily looked back at his two comrades. They, too, had bows drawn, and were looking to their leader for direction.
He, in turn, slowly rolled his tongue over the inside of his cheeks, and nodded with a faltering expression. He knew they were outnumbered by the Fellowship, wolves or not.
He looked at Y/n, who stiffened in response. Lifting his crusty hunting knife, the man gestured to Y/n. On cue, every member in the Fellowship huddled in closer, and darkened their eyes.
“We’ll be seeing you around, runner,” he said.
Reluctantly, and with a prolonged stare held on Y/n, the man turned on his feet. Snarling, his wolves followed, as did the other two men.
Once they were far enough away up the slope, the Fellowship collectively sighed, eased their shoulders and dropped their weapons.
Y/n shifted uncomfortably and nodded around at all of them, as they looked to her with softened eyes and gentle smiles, as if to say, “You’re safe now.”
“Thanks, guys,” she said, sincerely. “I owe you one.”
“Think nothing of it,” Gandalf promised, nodding his chin high. “An occupational hazard at this point.”
“Exciting careers?” Y/n laughed.
“You could say that,” Boromir laughed back. He walked back to his spot on the log, and ran a tired hand through his hair.
“Going anywhere exciting?” Y/n asked next, shrugging slightly in hope.
“You could also say that,” Frodo answered, sharing a nervous smile with Sam.
Smiling, and considering all her options, Y/n tried her luck.
“You’re not going east by any chance, are you?”
“Welcome aboard.”
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fairytalelover33 · a month ago
LOTR/Hobbit Incorrect Quotes #10
(The company in a large crowd)
Aragorn: “Where’s Gandalf?”
Pippin: “ I’ve got this. ‘Sorry for bumping into you Merry!’”
Gandalf in the distance: “FOOL OF A TOOK”
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fairytalelover33 · a month ago
Lotr/ Hobbit Incorrect Quotes #5
(Boromir and Aragorn watching Pippin for the day)
Boromir: ..... “You want a beer?”
Aragorn: “ HE’S FOUR”
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fairytalelover33 · a month ago
Lotr/ Hobbit Incorrect quotes #3
Frodo: I’m going to play a little song I wrote about my life so far, it goes like this.
Frodo: plays a chord
Frodo: takes a deep breath
Frodo: *screams*
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fairytalelover33 · 2 months ago
Lotr/ Hobbit characters as vines:
Aragorn: (walking towards the hobbits) I WANT TO SEE MY LITTLE BOY. Boromir: here he comes
Legolas: I spilled lipstick in your Valentino bag. Thranduil: WHAEHAHAHA LIPSTICK IN MY VALENTINO WHITE BAG?!
Gimli: We all die you either kill yourself or get killed (whatchu gon do)
(Gollum and Sam fighting) Frodo: Can I get a waffle? can I please-
Gandalf: Did you wash the dishes? Pippin: I-I thought you wanted to do that... Gandalf: hahaha you were WRONG
Smeagol: How do you know what’s good for me? Gollum: That’s my OpInIonNnN
Bofur: Hi, I’m ranasha bliss, and I’m your freestyle dance teacher.
Bombur: gUaCaMoLe, guac guac AMOLE
Radagast: Judy here, on college street, with a raccoon
(Fili and Kili scaring thorin) Thorin: *battle stance* I’ll kill you. I will I’m not even worried about it
Tauriel: hi Kili: ok
Lindir: Hi welcome to chilis
Thorin: Remember one time I liked you? Elves: no Thorin: Good cause NEVER HAPPEN. Hheheh
For Pt 2 click here:
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