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theblogofdurin · 2 years

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Cloaked in Green || Pt.2 || Chp. 22: Dazed

word count: 2.1k

summary: the company is captured

warnings: mentions of, imprisonment, bullying, bleeding head wound.

a/n: Yes. There is another Flash forwards moment at the end of the chapter, There isn't really a whole lot of Aranea in this fic. BUT STILL please like, comment or reblog if you enjoy this chapter, it's helps keep me motivated.

Thorin Oakenshield, Fem!OC

Links: series masterlist, chp.21, readers guide

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Estel! Erthil!

The poor Elven maids chasing after the giggling 6 year-olds. Shouted about the star pavilion, frantically searching for the human children.

Smiling softly on the steps leading away from the building. Elrond, chuckling to himself as he looked down at the two twins hiding in the flowerbed below.

As the school maids, scurried away to continue to look for the children. Moving closer to the tiny bodies without either of the two's knowledge. The Elf bent a knee to whisper in between them.

"And what do we have here?"

The babes screamed loudly as they turned to see the grinning lord.

"Elwond!!" Estel groaned not completely pronouncing the 'r' due to missing his front teeth. The Elf softened, as both twins turned bright red at being caught.

"Come with me." He smiled as he stood back up , holding a hand out to each of the siblings, tiny ones grasping his own as he began to lead them away to his study. "I have the perfect place, where we can hide."

Once the trio reach their destination, The Elf-lord lead the small duo to the tufted love-seat in the middle of the room.

"Now tell me," he said as he moved to sit in the chair opposite of them. Naturally both children looked at each other immediately, their silent conversation excluding the elf in front of them. Elrond only smiled briefly and knowingly. How he and Elros used to do the same thing, and how he watched the same look pass between Elladan and Elrohir.

"Out with it." Elrond added with an eyebrow lifted, when the memories hit his chest. "You have been missing your classes for 4 days now."

Both of the twins were still deep in the conversation causing Elrond to sigh. "Don't make me tell your Mother, what you've been up too." Both of their head snapped up to look at him, keeping a straight at they studied him.

Erthil was the first to break,"The other kids are mean." Nodding, next to her Estel added, "They say we don't belong." Erthil continued, "Is it true that Erthil and Estel means Mud and Dirt?" Estel continued again, adding "There is no one else like us here."

Raising a hand, causing the twins to stop talking immediately, Elrond spoke softly again, "No, Erthil, your sindarin names do not mean, Mud and Dirt I can reassure you. " The little girl looked relieved as her brother patted her on the back "I told you." Estel gestured, causing the girl to roll her eyes.

Elrond laughed at the pair, waving a hand for both of them to get up, "I have some people I like you two to meet."

Later that evening, Elrond knocked gently on the door to the healing bed. "Please come with me" Elrond smiled at the pale woman, still slightly under the weather from her now yearly ailment. "I have something dear to show you."

Gilraen held onto his outstretched arm as they made their way to location. Finally turning a bend to see into the small pasture beside the horse stables, she saw the odd quadruple.

Aranea and Aragorn were giggling fits on top of two horses, as they were being led around the small inclosure by Elladan and Elrohir, Elrond's twin sons.

The now grown adults were laughing along at the pure joy in the little ones' faces as they challenged each other from across their circle. "Elladan and my horse is so faster than your horse" Aranea's tongue stuck out as she finished her point. "No offense Elrohir."

The parents, still quite about away from them, laughed along at the sight in front of them.

“Search them.” The blonde voices as to the others elves, as he lowers he’s bow. Turning to talk to a bright red she-elf.

The elves approach the dwarves and start searching them. Discouraged, Fili hands up two throwing knives to the elf in front of him. With a skeptical look, the elf reached over him to pull out another knife from his back.

“Are the spiders dead?” Legolas asked the she-elf in Elvish, hiding their words from the dwarves. Nodding at the Prince, Tauriel sheathed her weapons. “Yes, but more will come. They’re growing bolder.”

Behind them Fili opens his jacket to show the elf searching him that he has no knives left; however, the elf reaches inside the dwarf’s fur coat finding another one hidden in Fili’s hood. One of their other elf hands Legolas, Thorin’s sword, causing him to walk over the dwarf as he inspect the long blade.

“This is an ancient Elvish blade.” He twists the handle, letting the blade glisten on one of the few streams of light. “-Forged by my kin. Where did you get this?” He glares down.

“It was given to me.” Thorin answered shortly. Legolas smirked, pointing the sword at Thorin, replying in a similar venom. “Not just a thief, but a liar as well.”

“Take them!” he yelled, swinging the sword to rest on his shoulder as the elves began to lead the dwarves away. As they continue down the road, Bofur turns and whispers to Thorin.

“Where’s Bilbo?”

Thorin and Bofur both shared a look; they were pushed to continue moving, finally reaching the long bridge into the Woodland Realm. Ordering the guards to shut the gates behind them as he and Tauriel took the rear.

Giant trees drew together, forming the various levels of bridges and passageways. The dwarves of the company look around them in mild distaste, both impressed and disdifferent.

All the dwarves were pushed into different cells, with only 2 sets of brothers being placed into the same cell to save space. Dori and Ori and Bifur and Bombur.

“Aren’t you going to search me?" Kili looked up at Tauriel as she started to push him into his cells. "I could have anything down my trousers.” he winks

Unaffected, the captain smirks down at him “Or nothing.” With a hard shove, before haughtily slaminh the cell door shut and the she-elf walks away, Kili looks after her and a small smile.

It wasn’t long after the doors were locked and the guards made their way back up the stairs that dwarves tried to escape.

“Let us out of here!” Gloin shouts echoing against the walls.

"This is not the end of it!" Dwalin growls, banging his head against his cell door. "You hear me?”

With an eye roll, plopping onto the carved out bench bed in his cell, Balin yelled. “Leave it! There’s no way out! This is no Orc Dungeon. These are the halls of the Woodland Realm. No one leaves here but by the King’s consent!”

"Well we can't just do nothing!" Ori whined as he banged his head lightly against the cell door.

"I don't believe we have a choice, Laddie." Balin sighed, still speaking loudly so he may hear.

Thorin shook his cell door once more, before walking to the back, letting the darkness of the space hide him.

So much has happened in the last couple days. Something wasn't settling right for him. Even for him, he could tell that his emotions were one extreme for the other. He couldn’t seem to focus on what was in front of him. If he had read the situation with Aranea…then maybe.

It was the sound of his cell opening that caused him to stiff in his spot. The Elf gestures for Thorin to step out in slight annoyance.

Making sure to take his time, Thorin took small steady steps out. Causing the elf to push him forward. "King Thranduil requests your presence."

=//=//=//=

In his cell, Kili inspects the shiny black stone his mother had given him, tracing the engraving with his hand. He flips it in the air and catches it on the back of his hand. Sighing loudly as he looks back down at it in his hand. 'If Mother was here, everything would be so much easier.'

The long haired she-elf was checking on all the prisoners; paused when she saw Kili rolling something in his hand “The stone in your hand, what is it?”

“It is a talisman. " He spoke, his voice darker than she was used to. "A powerful spell lies upon it." He glanced up at her. "If any but a dwarf reads the runes on this stone, they will be forever cursed.”

Kili quickly holds up the stone toward the elf and she staggers back slightly. As she begins to walk away, Kili speaks again, chuckling his voice back to its teasing manner.

“Or not," he giggled, "depending on whether you believe that kind of thing." He held the talisman again, " It’s just a token."Kili smiles, and she smiles as well.

With a sadder smile, he continued. “A runestone. My mother gave it to me so I’d remember my promise.”

“What promise?” she breathed, her voice light

“That I will come back to her.”

The elf-captain looks down. Guilt eating her

“She worries." Kili explained as he didn't know why he didn't like that look on her face. "She thinks I’m reckless.”

“Are you?” she asked with an eyebrow raised.

“Nah.” Kili shook his head, smiling and tossing up his stone. He misses when he tries to catch it, and it rolls out of his cell, but the elf stops it with her foot before it can roll into the deep pit outside the cells.

She picks it up, twirling softly in her hand. Kili goes up to the bars of his cell to ask for it but then hears elves laughing in the distance.

“Sounds like quite a party you’re having up there.” he grunted, of course they would party the night they captured Dwarves.

“It is Mereth-en-Gilith" the she-elf smiled dreamily, as she explained "- the Feast of Starlight.” She handed Kili the stone back, She stepped slightly away.

“All light is sacred to the Eldar, but Wood Elves love best the light of the stars."

Kili furrowed his eyebrows as he looked over at her “I always thought it is a cold light, remote and far away.

The she-elf, who had walked a few steps away while speaking, approaches Kili again and speaks earnestly.“It is a memory, precious and pure. Like your promise. " She gestured to the stone with a small smile before adding,

“I have walked there sometimes, beyond the forest and up into the night. I have seen the world fall away and the white light forever fills the air.”

Smiling broadly Kili states “I saw a fire moon once. It rose over the pass near Dunland, huge; red and gold it was, filled the sky. We were an escort for some merchants from Ered Luin, they were trading in Silverbuck for furs. We took the Greenway south, keeping the mountain to our left, and then, this huge fire moon, right in our path. I wish I could show you...”

They continue talking; with the she-elf sitting down on the stairs by Kili’s cell to listen as he explained to wonders that he's seen. It wasn’t till Thorin was brought back to his cell that she left. This time however Kili wasn't the only one with a small smile on his face.

In the cell next to him, Fili smirked as he spoke loudly through the bars,"You know Uncle would never approve."

Kili scoffed loudly as he moved away from the door, sitting back down at the weird bench in his cell. "Uncle doesn't have a place to talk right now."

Fili nodded in agreement.

"Papa?"

The tired voice spoke through the darkness of the wooden home. Having been woken up from loud banging in the adjacent tent, Sigrid was rubbing at her eyes when she was frozen by the sight in front of her.

Bended over the table, her father and the tall elf were pressing wet bandages to nice woman's head. The slight red hue of the used to be white cloth quickly snapped her of her shock as she rushed forward to help.

"Sigrid." Bard sighed, as he looked over his shoulder. As his eldest began pulling various linens from drawers as well as quickly filling the kettle with water and hanging it over the makeshift fireplace to heat up.

"What happend?" She asked as she replaced her father's hand to replace the line. Wiping his hands over his coat, Bard breathed heavily through his nose as he looked down at the tall woman, unconscious on the table. Thranduil, still slightly in shock, peered angrily at the man.

"That dwarf shall pay."

---

"Elves feel things in a very deep way,deeper than a human. They’re very far from humans.Those emotions, that love is profound." -Lee Pace, (unknown interview?)

taglist still open! @lokigirlszendaya @caelum-the-part-time-nihilist @emrfangirl @lathalea @hr-nm-grnd-zr @markosgirl @demigoddesofchimichangagod @imaginesfire @kaysteahouse @tamnight @mithrandirssidehoe @panhoeofmanyfandoms @petrelrose @irisv-x @fandoms4everyone @Leabeiersdorf07 @nunyobuisness @fallinloveinoctober @mysterypotatoink @whore-of-many-hot-men @generalgoldfishldrm @thevanillahorizon @cloudcatchingstark @wolfers-stuff @depressedemo-152 @triffidgurl @nessarosefiction

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tilions · 3 years

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hey! yo! you mind talking a bit more about the extended fëanorian family ocs you have? how many there are, how they’re related, when they’re born, the rough arc of their life?

Hello thank you for your ask! No I don't mind talking about them at all! I love them all very much but please be prepared that this is going to be a long one and that I couldn't even fit everything I want to talk about in here

I have talked about Maglor's, Caranthir's and Curufin's wives before so I left them out on purpose. So I'm just going to talk about the third and fourth generation here.

If you exclude Elrond and Elros Maglor and his wife Cellin have four children and in order of their birth their names are Gilloth, Nelladon, Gilrin and Belegur. Gilloth has a son named Arrod, none of the other three are married or have children. Curufin and his wife Aiwë have one more child besides Celebrimbor, Aracundo. Celebrimbor himself has a son named Aenion. Caranthir and Calairie remain childless. I'm not sure yet where Gil-Galad belongs family wise in my headcanon but let's just assume he's Orodreth's son for convenience.

I don't exactly have stories for them all. Aracundo, Nelladon and Aenion are probably the most fleshed out one's when it comes to their stories but I love them all regardless.

A badly drawn family tree for reference. If you want some more details there are about 2k words of bullet points under the cut :)

Gilloth

Daughter of one of Maedhros's guards and Maglor's second in command

Born some time before the Nirnaeth Arnoediad

Both her parents die in the Nirnaeth, and she is taken in by Maglor and his wife Cellin and is raised as their daughter

Loses her voice during the War of Wrath but refuses to tell anyone how it happened (possible Trauma related?)

Helps Celebrimbor run Eregion in the S.A

Is very interested in architecture and has great talent

Also helps with the construction of Rivendell and moves there after Eregion falls

Has great impact on her siblings upbringing

She and Erestor start courting after Glorfindel locks them in a room together and only allows them out after Erestor confesses his feelings

They marry mid Third Age

Their only child is called Araráto or Arrod in Sindarin

Because Maglor has given all his children a father name (be they his real children or not) she got one as well

It's Tintanárë (Sparkling Fire)

She's very close with Aracundo especially during the latter half of the second Age and the early Third Age

Her favourite people in Middle Earth are dwarves. She gets along well with them and even learns some Khuzdul from Narvi because she can't just reveal the secret

She is very strong at Oswanë and uses is constantly to communicate

Elrond has a lot of headaches because she directs her absurd thoughts at him to annoy him

Arrod is her sunshine and she would die for him

Not a very good warrior but she's doing her best

Aracundo

Second Born son of Curufin and Aiwë of the Teleri

Fathername: Artafinwë (Exalted Finwë)

He's my depressed disaster gay

Tall boy™ (maybe even taller than Maedhros?)

Born: 464 F.A (same year as Turin because reasons) in Nargothrond

He doesn't remember his dad because his parents parted ways after the Lúthien incident

He grows up in Cirdans care because that's where his mom took him

His best friend growing up was Ereinion even though the other is several years older than him

He doesn't have a lot of temperament and is more like his mother, calm and sensitive

Fights in the War of Wrath as Ereinion's second in command but is more known for his strategies and not for his actions on the battlefield

He and Ereinion get married early into the Second Age (yes he's Gil-Galad's husband and they love each other very much fight me)

He goes absolutely berserk once he sees his brother used as a banner of Sauron's forces after Eregion falls and probably takes down half their army by himself

People who knew Maedhros had a very very vivid flashback that day

When his mother sails not long after he remains in Middle Earth to fight Sauron

He gets much more quiet and reserved after losing his brother, mother and nephew in one go

He is very much pro Last Alliance and openly supports Elendil but mostly because he wants to avenge Celebrimbor's death

Uh… you know who dies during that battle? Ereinion and Aracundo blames himself for it

He stops speaking and becomes a shadow of himself afterwards

Refuses both the crown and Vilya

Lives with Cirdan for some time but moves to Rivendell after Celebrían sails to support Elrond

Has no big part in the second ring war

He sails alongside Cirdan and Celeborn

His life gets from good to worse to tragic to suffering

But he gets reunited with Ereinion in Valinor so it's not a total tragedy

Nelladon

Maglor's and Cellin's first biological child

Born: 1700 S.A

Died: 2770 T.A.

Has Nerdanel's signature red hair but otherwise full on takes after his mother's side of the family

His fathername is Russanáro (copper fire)

Aso has the epithets Copperhead from the dwarves, Pityatinto (Little Sparkle) from his grandfather and Tyalmahto (Toymaker) from the Numenorians

Self sacrificing idiot (we'll get to that later)

His passion is toymaking but also woodworking but he's also a great singer and loves storytelling

For every new baby family member he makes an abundance of toys and when all of them grow up he travels the world to make toys for the children of other families

The only members of his own family to never receive a toy from him are his younger brother Belegur, as well as his cousins on his mother's side of the family (all of them are born after his death)

A very good boy, only wants to make the people happy

He finds Aenion again with the dwarves of Erebor after they establish their kingdom there

Tries to talk him into visiting their family but stays unsuccessful until his death

Speaking of his death and self sacrificing

He dies during Smaugs attack on Erebor while he tries to make time for Thrain and Thror to escape. He faces Smaug in the throne room with nothing more than a iron shield on him

And burns

He fully knew he was going to die but he did it for his friends

Probably aroace

Also the first member of the House of Fëanor to get re-embodied

Gilrin

Maglor's and Cellin's only biological daughter and Fëanor's only biological granddaughter

Born: 20 T.A.

Like Celegorm she takes after Miriel in terms of appearance but inherited her grandfather Tinwës blonde hair

Not the tallest but still like half an inch taller than Fëanor and Curufin

Has a lot of artistic talent and can paint life like images

She painted the wall painting of Isildur cutting of Sauron's finger only with a very bad sketch from Glorfindel and a mental image provided by Galadriel as a reference

Basically always happy and smiling

Hates it when she has one-sided conversations, feels like she's intruding somehow

Celebrían is her big idol and she was devastated when she got hurt and had to sail

Was even more devastated after Nelladons death and isolated herself for a while

Starts traveling with Gildor and his group from that point on to get some distraction and is among the elves who meet Frodo, Pippin and Sam in the Shire

Will not sail until her parents do

Does her best to support Aragorn as the new king of Gondor because she feels like that's what's she owes to Elrond and partially also Elros even though she never met him

The most Avarian out of her siblings

Belegur

Finwë 2.0

Seriously the boy looks like Finwë as much as Arwen looks like Lúthien

People find it quite disturbing (People are Maglor, Glorfindel and Cirdan)

Fathername: Cuináro (living fire)

Born: either 3019 T.A. or somewhere between 10 and 50 Fourth Age

Youngest member of the House of Fëanor even younger than his youngest nephew

Elladan, Elrohir, Arwen and Arrod call him little uncle and he hates it (he loves it but pretends he hates it)

Spends most of his childhood in Gondor because his parents moved the like almost immediately to be with Aragorn and Arwen

Has a deeper connection to men than all of his other siblings (aside from Elros for obvious reasons)

He feels weird when he sees his best friends from childhood grow up, get children and then see those grow up and have children of their own all while he himself is still a child/teenager/going adult

When Elfwinë's son Éomund II. who he was closest with dies, Belegur is devastated

His relationship with mortality becomes rather complicated afterwards

Dedicated scholar and historian

Also only sails when his parents will

Has a very easy time befriending people

Probably the best warrior out of his biological siblings just because Gilrin hates fighting and Nelladon just doesn't care about weapons

In possession of the one Feanorian Braincell might as well have inherited it from his mother)

Aenion

Celebrimbor's son

Born somewhere between 1620 and 1680 S.A

I have no idea who his mother is, any suggestions?

Thought about making him the love child of Tyelpë and Annatar but this feels kinda weird but also hilarious

Looks like Curufin acts like Caranthir

Cantëacurufinwë™ (blame the fact that Tyelpë is called Nelyacurufinwë)

Aenion probably isn't his real mothername but he calls that himself and everyone just does the same

Grumpy cat™

Raised by dwarves after Eregion fell and stayed with Durin's line until the Sacking of Erebor (Thrain brought him to Rivendell)

Speaks almost no Sindarin but is fluent at Westron and Khuzdul

Has no interest in learning Quenya

Creative use of swear words

A Smith like almost everyone else in his father's line

If he is Sauron's child, he has very much cat eyes and you can't convince me otherwise, also the Ring would probably love him

He goes back to Erebor after the dwarves retake it and helps them rebuild it

Feels very guilty for Nelladons death because he couldn't convince him to flee with him

Can't look Cellin or Maglor in the eye because of this

Fights during the War of the Ring alongside the Dwarves of Erebor

Sails with Gimli and Legolas

Arrod

Son of Gilloth and Erestor

Born sometime after his parents wedding

Takes more after his father in terms of appearance but has been influenced a lot by Glorfindel growing up

A total goof

One of the elves who 'greet' Thorin and company when they arrive in Rivendell

Gets into unnecessary fights very often

Very protective

Loves Estel to death and is very sad when Aragorn grows up and doesn't want to be carried around piggyback style anymore

Does it anyways

Idk I have not thought about him a lot

Here and here are Picrews that visualise them :) || Tolkien OC Overview here

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meteor752 · 3 years

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I made a joke post about Legolas and Aragorn adopting a baby Geralt and raising him a few weeks ago, but I can’t get it out of my head, so I’m gonna expand on that AU. First post can be found here

So Legolas and Aragorn are basically just out on a vacation in the eastern part of Middle Earth, just taking a break and chilling around you know, when they stumble upon a child just outside the kingdom of Rivia (Yes I am keeping that)

The child is about three or four years old, with the peculiar outward appearance of big Yellow eyes and almost white hair, and it doesn’t seem to mind being out alone in the middle of the forest.

Both Legolas and Aragorn decide though that they will try to find the child’s parents, and they spend two days in Rivia searching for the parent of the child, or just someone who knows something, but they get no results. Most people are repelled by the child, saying that it’s cursed or the result of witchcraft, and both Aragorn and Legolas take offense by that as they had gotten attached to the child.

On the third day they eventually give up, and after a long discussion they decide to adopt the child, as again, they both got attached real fast.

When the two return to Gondor with the small boy whom they named Geralt, a lot of people get quite surprised, mostly because what and why. Their respective families have the same reaction.

The two realize quickly that Geralt is not a normal child.

First, they have no idea what he is. They first thought human, but when small bursts of magic started to come from him, and when his acute sense of smell was discovered, they scratched that idea.

Second, he refused to part with his wolf medallion. They didn’t know why, it had been inspected by a lot of people, including Gandalf himself, but it didn’t seem to have any type of spell or curse on it that made him so fiercely attached to it. And he couldn’t tell them anything about it because-

-Three, he barely speaks. At first they thought he was mute or deaf or something alike, but that didn’t seem to be the case as he could hear, and he did utter a few words here and there. He just chose not to speak, and mostly made cute little grunts when people spoke to him.

Legolas became a mother hen very quickly, and was very loving towards his strange child, and as a child Geralt didn’t mind it too much. As an adult however, then he just wishes his ada would stop smothering him (He secretly loves it).

Aragorn is a lot less lovey dovey, but still very caring and Geralt loves to be around him. He was very quick with teaching his child both sword techniques and manners, but his major priority was teaching him how to care for a horse.

Geralt was not a shy kid as many people believed, When it came down to it he was more than able to voice his opinion. He just, doesn’t like to talk. And because of that fact, he also grew up to be very poor with words and having a problem formulating himself, which backfired a few times in his life.

The thing is, he doesn’t like when others talk either. He just wants to sit around and brood in silence like the angsty boy he is, but none of his family members allow him to, as they are all very chatty and cheery.

Especially his two uncles Elladan and Elrohir and his aunt Tilda, like whenever either one of them are around he can kiss peace and quiet goodbye for at least a few days. It’s even worse when it’s all three.

Geral’t strange magic became a problem early on, as it was very unpredictable. He could do more simple things like start fires and create a protective shield, but also literally manipulate minds, which was not a pleasant thing, especially as he had a hard time controlling it in his youth.

Gandalf tried his best to teach the boy to control his magic, and he did manage to get a hang of it, but sometimes it could still act out in his adulthood when he felt particularly stressed out or angry.

That wasn’t the only problem that came with Geralt being of unknown origin, as sometimes Aragorn and Legolas didn’t know how to properly raise the boy, and what he really needed.

For example, when Geralt was around seven he fell ill. And with that I mean really ill, many feared that he would not survive.

Both Legolas and Aragorn were devastated and the former spent nearly all his time holding and cuddling his shaking and whimpering baby who was in too much pain for the caring parent to handle, and he started to stop eating just to always be able to be by his son’s side.

Aragorn couldn’t afford to drop all of his duties as king, even though he wanted to, but his mind was very absent during everything he did that did not involve caring for Geralt.

Geralt eventually got better, thankfully, but neither Aragorn nor Legolas would ever forget the fear they had felt for almost five months of their still small and fragile son being so close to death.

Geralt’s magic wasn’t only a bunch of negative stuff, it did also come to some benefits in his youth, especially when it came to worrying his Ada.

At around nine Geralt found out that he could temporarily vanish, aka become invisible, if he focused on it enough, which meant that his parents were forced to place a bell on him just to make out where he was. He took it off quite often and would usually be hanging around his frantic Ada, sipping his juice box and watch the scene unfold,

(And I know that’s not really in the Witcher canon, but I just thought it would be cute and this is my AU so fuck off)

Not too long after Geralt got a half elf cousin by the name of Brand, at at first he was confused by the small thing and why he was supposed to care, but as Brand grew older and learned to sit up and make noise, Geralt hated the small thing and just wished for it’s demise. It did not help that his parents loved the kid and would gladly babysit when the thing’s parents were busy, which meant he was forced to be around it.

When Geralt turned twenty two he left Gondor to find his own path (Much to his Ada’s terror because there’s so many ways for him to get hurt Aragorn how are you so calm about this), only equipped with the bare essentials for a life on the road, including a mare he named Roach, a descendant of Brego.

Geralt was very quick to pick up on his father’s habit of having conversations with his horse, and Roach was quite a good listener.

Geralt found his purpose when a child ran up to him while in a village and asked if he could slay the monster that had killed his sister in exchange for money, as his family had seen his swords.

Geralt complied, partly because he could need the money and partly because it would be nice to help, even though his facial expression remained a grim scowl.

And after killing the thing and nearly dying himself in the process, he figures that he needs to do some research on different types of monsters and how to beat take them down before he starts going about.

He also starts carrying potions with him that he acquires from mages and witches across Middle Earth, just to make it easier to hunt and to heal himself after the fact.

But it is not everyone who appreciates his help unfortunately, as many turn him down just by his strange and uncanny appearance, and by his grim attitude that often scare people off.

It does not help that he introduces himself as Geralt of Rivia instead of Geralt Greenleaf of Gondor, just so people wouldn’t know who he was and treat him differently, but it does result in people having no idea he’s the son of a king and a crown prince so they treat him like shit if they want to.

It does not get better by the events in Blaviken, that Geralt would rather not speak off, especially to his parents.

It is first when he meets a young cheery bard that reminds him of an annoying bird that people start to respect him more, after the bard creates a ballad about him.

(Toss a coin would obviously sound a little different since in this AU the term ‘Witcher’ doesn’t exist and I doubt he would “Thrust every elf far back on the shelf” if he himself is part elf by adoption, but it is till toss a coin)

And both Aragorn and Legolas are just delighted at hearing the song because they are just so happy for their son, if not a little confused on why he is called Geralt of Rivia, but still yay!

(The bardlings love singing it together when they are around each other, as they love their nephew and is also all music loving people)

There’s also the mage that he encounters from time to time (And with encounter I mean they fuck, because well, Geralt is related to both Legolas and Tilda after all), whom the Bard, Jaskier, hates.

And then he gets an invitation to the wedding of Arwen and Éowyn while around both Jaskier and the mage, Yennefer, and they both are just as confused because “Wait you have a family?”

And the minute they find out about Geralt’s large, loud and quite famous and royal family, they are both pestering him about following to the wedding because they want to meet the people who raised Geralt, and he gives in after a lot of nagging and begging.

So when Geralt shows up in Rivendell with a brightly dressed bard and a gothic mage, well let’s just say it’s interesting.

Legolas is delighted that his little Gerry has made some friends while also checking on him that he is alright and Geralt hates in while Yen and Jaskier are having a blast.

Jaskier is really smug about the fact that Geralt is actually related to a bard in a way, with his Ada’s step siblings mother being one, and the three take after her with their own musical talent.

Jaskier and Sigrid gush a lot about different songs together.

And Tilda is just shamelessly flirting with the sexy gothic mage while Geralt regrets every single decision he’s ever made.

And of course Brand is there being an asshole while flirting with Jaskier, and again, Geralt regrets everything.

A betting pool is set up on who they think Geralt will end up with, Jaskier or Yennefer.

Geralt just craves death.

***

I tried to incorporate as much of the Witcher lore as I could, but I also had to take into account how Middle Earth works, which is very hard.

I mean, one is Polish and the other from New Zealand.

I don’t know what Geralt is supposed to be exactly, maybe some sort of Fae or Elf half breed, or maybe he is a mutant like the actual Witcher’s.

Anyways, this was fun, and I really wanna make more of this AU, because I love it. It’s not canon in my Universe though, sadly, because it just wouldn’t work.

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beaflower77 · 6 years

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But What Is The Ultimate Joy?

She sat in the library trying to read one of Galearon’s toddler books. The small, baby words were all she could master when reading. Using a piece of paper and ink, she drew her own pictures to match the words. Master Maimen snuck upon her. Placing a tray before her, he sat himself down and dished out a cup and saucer. Poured tea, sat and sighed. Baffled, looking up as he place a light blue cup before her, moving her papers out of the way, “What is this?,” Beatrice asked in whisper. “Tea.,” Maimen replied. “Time for tea.” She gave him the strangest of looks. “Master.,” Beatrice hushed, “We are in the library.” He sat back, sinking deeper into his chair. “I know.,” he said. “I am the library’s caretaker. And, now, it is time for tea.” Even as other elves observed from their seats, they left the two alone.

“This is horrible.,” she said, setting her cup down, making a grimace of a face. “Sorry.,” Beatrice reiterated. “But it is really bad. What is this stuff?,” pointing to her cup. The tea steamed away, smelling like old tires melting. Maimen smiled, a tiny bit offended, however he realized the tea did indeed stink. It was supposed to stink, and the taste wasn’t that great either. “Drink it Beatrice. It will do you good.,” he gave her, and he sipped carefully of his own tea. “But what is it?,” again she plied. He looked at her. “Never you mind. Drink.”

Sitting there, sipping the hot and horrid concoction, Beatrice noticed Maimen watched her. His scrutiny bothered Beatrice. She felt conspicuous, exposed and her feet began tapping the floor. Swallowing a gulp of the horrid liquid, “Have I done something wrong Master Maimen?,” she whispered. Coming out of his stupor, “What? No. Why do you ask?” He continued to sip and seemingly enjoy his drink. Not getting an answer, Beatrice plied again, “Have I said something? Offended you in some way? Said something to someone else? Have I done something wrong? Again.” Beatrice wanted to get to the bottom of whatever it was causing Master Maimen to bring her afternoon tea, in the library, against his own rules. “No. You have done nothing.,” he reiterated. He sat back and continued to observe.

Beatrice, confused, not to mention starting to feel miffed, not understanding what all the fuss was for, wanted, needed to know what was on his mind. “Um. I am just not understanding, what is all this for?,” she asked a little louder than a whisper, leaning in against the table, circling her fingers over and around the tea paraphernalia. Other elves turned toward Beatrice at the sound of her voice. Maimen looked at them, the elves returned to their own attentions. Due to the smell, some stood and left.

Giving a soft snort. “It will help you with your issue Beatrice.,” Maimen said. Listening to him, Beatrice couldn’t but think, what issue? How many issues does he think I have and does he know about the issues I think I am having? I don’t think I have any issues. Do I? Expect for possibly that one or that one. Her mind spun round, circling and circling. Beatrice wanted to know exactly what was happening here. So she asked again, not too politely. “What are we talking about? What, issues?” Maimen seemed to think Beatrice was funny, he smiled as if he were explaining the beginnings of the universe toan a small, brainless child. He opened his mouth in an attempt to explain. However..

“Lady Beatrice.,” Elrohir whispered, stooping down to her level. “Will you please come with me?,” he asked, interrupting her and Maimen’s not so important discussion. Maimen waved Beatrice away, took her cup, replacing it on the tea tray. He offered to bring her papers to her later. Beatrice proceeded to follow Elrohir down the corridors to his and Elladan’s chambers. “Where are we going?,” she whispered still, even as the fresh and open wind blew against their direction. “You will see.,” he replied. She didn’t. However she was curious.

Upon entering their chambers, Beatrice saw Elladan cradling a small, small bundle in a little green blankie. He was not smiling. Beatrice decided she wouldn’t either. Wondering what was in that small bundle, she stepped over the carpet to take a peek. And tiptoed up. What she saw left her astonished. Something which Beatrice had absolutely never seen before. As Elladan and Elrohir watched Beatrice, as the bundle was fiercely and protectively held, Beatrice whispered. “Oh.,” and Oh was all she could say.

“What do you think?,” Elrohir asked. “What are you thinking?” He continued to prod her, questioning and questioning. “Is it alright? What do you think? What are your thoughts?,” he wanted to know. Elladan continued to watch with purpose.

She wanted to pick it up, hold it, coddle it. Beatrice wanted it. However, Beatrice did not want to upset any apple carts either. So, she asked, “What do you want me to do about this?” Elladan looked at his brother, as Elrohir played with the tips of the blanket. “Would you take it?,” he asked. Surprise struck her face, as she looked from one brother to the other. “Would you take him Beatrice?,” Elladan calmly, quietly asked of her, mirroring his brother’s question. “Oh, Elladan.,” she gave a breathy answer, looking from one to the other in concern. Why did they want to ask her? Lindir would say No. She knew he would most likely say No, probably. Oh yes, No would be his answer.

Yes, she wanted it. Yes, she could take it. Yes, Beatrice would adore and love it. No, Lindir would not. Lindir would take one look at the poor creature, Lindir’s eyes would widen, his heart tighten, he would panic. Lindir would think Beatrice had flipped out, freaked out, gone wild, mad, nuts. They already had two. That was two more than Lindir ever wanted. But this one, this tiny, perfect, sightless creature, happily, contently stretching its’ little furry paws out with a wide yawn. This little baby kitten was so sweet, so precious, a dearest, rare gem in an otherwise painful world. Beatrice thought, she concentrated on a response. Her decision culminated round her brain and came out as, “Lindir would throttle me.” Their hearts sank. Elladan and Elrohir were never around long enough to be able to care for it. Who else could they entrust the poor kitten to?

Still, knowing Lindir would not in the slightest be pleased with her, Beatrice said. “Okay. I’ll take him.” And Elladan breathed deep and smiled, handing the offered bundle over. She accepted it willingly. Beatrice knew, but didn’t worry of what Lindir would say. At all. At the moment. Just yet. Beatrice would just not tell him. Yet.

The other cats hissed. They walked away and hissed. Or, they sat making themselves comfortable on the floor, and hissed. Two adult cats sat and watched as one tiny kitten wobbled, bobbled, rolled and collided with its’ own feet, narrowly falling over. She kept her hands on either side of the kitty, prodding it to move in minute parameters, while keeping it steady. Hissing, batting, more hissing, larger, older cats jumping on large, high pieces of furniture, keeping themselves out of wobbling, bobbling range. Hissing, low growls, overall cat frowns of disapproval, reproof at the tiny creature, gave way to Beatrice scooping up the kitten, wrapping the blanket round, swaddling it like a small, gray, furry taco and sat in the sun, warming herself and the kitten, talking in soothing tones, rocking, coaxing it into sleep.

As the kitten seemingly fell asleep, it was a little hard to tell, the oldest of the cats came to sniff. Giving small pats to the blanket, “Stop.,” she said, it sniffed, gave an empty threat of a low growl and frowned, gave up, curled himself against Beatrice’s legs claiming them as his own, and fell asleep himself. Beatrice looked at the younger one across the room. “No dice yet, huh?,” she asked. The cat just frowned, turned its’ head, closed one eye. “Fine. Be that way.,” Beatrice said to it. “You’ll see. You’ll come to love and adore it too.” That cat also put its’ head down and gave in. She could hear it sigh.

The problem with keeping a blind cat, especially a blind kitten, was the fact you couldn’t just put it down and walk away, or go to sleep yourself and leave it unattended. Not with two cranky, frowny, older cats. So Beatrice sat and watched the kitten, thinking, wondering what was best for it. How long she could keep it, contain it, without anyone, specifically Lindir learning of its’ presence. How to give this gem a safe, comfortable, loving home. A protected home. Perhaps, Beatrice thought, it should go to an elf. An elf who would love it best. An elf who would not tire of it, or its’ wobblyness and special attention it most likely would need. An elf who would be around for the long haul. Beatrice knew she wouldn’t be able to keep it permanently. She did want to, wanted a whole house load of cats. But this wasn’t her house, it truly was not Beatrice’s decision ultimately to make. When Beatrice had thought enough, did decide the hopefully best option she could in her opinion, she stood, packed a few trinkets, a fresh, unused blanket into a basket and was just about to go.

Turning to make her way from the chamber and down the hall, Beatrice came to a halt. Lindir appeared, stood to the side of the doors, seemingly to be blocking her way out. Why did he almost always seem to know what was happening before it happened, Beatrice thought. Doesn’t he have somewhere he should be? Oh, that look again? What a fine day, she thought. His brow is creased. Who told him what? Shoot, she fussed. He knows something he shouldn’t.

“Oh.,” Beatrice said. “I was just about to go out.” He didn’t budge, instead Lindir gave her a slight smile. “Where were you going Sweatheart?,” he lovingly asked, but still didn’t budge. He called me Sweatheart in the middle of the afternoon? Why? A slight instinctive pull back against her chest with her bundle, and Beatrice tightly protected the object of her affection. And began to wonder if Lindir had somehow found her out or if she would have the sole pleasure of introducing this tiny purr to him now. As Lindir approached, he gave no signs of acknowledgment, agreement, or disapproval. Only curiosity. Curiosity killed the cat, Beatrice thought. Go away cat monger. Leave me and my bundle be.

Coming closer, “Let me look at it.,” Lindir suggested, as he lifted the edge of the blanket from its’ little face. “Look at what?,” Beatrice instinctively asked. Now she was stuck. So he did know. Who ratted me out, she demanded. Beatrice waited. Lindir looked. He gave away no emotions as he glided his hands softly, slowly over the tiny kitten’s head, rubbing, tickling an ear here, its’ slight neck there. Softly, serenely Lindir smiled. “It is very small Beatrice.,” he said, picking it up, holding it close. “Very tiny, very little. What will you do with it?,” he asked, wanting to know her thoughts, but not looking Beatrice in the face yet. At least, she thought, he hasn’t come right out and told me No. And he’s holding it too! Still Beatrice hesitated.

“Well.,” she began. “I have just decided who this cat would be best suited for.,” Beatrice replied. “I was just on my way there now.” She saw a slight twitch of his mouth. Who told him, Beatrice wanted to know. She waited for Lindir’s response, he gave none yet, still Beatrice knew Lindir was curious and sometimes too cautious with her decisions. Since he did not push a negative issue concerning the kitten, she just had to smile, just had to perk up a bit, playing with its’ swanky tail, saying almost to herself and well as him. “Isn’’t he beautiful?”

However it was Lindir who would most definitely give Beatrice the most unequivocal, unmistakable, unquestionable, straightforward answer. And Beatrice was always so glad to hear it. “Yes.,” Lindir said. “And No.”

She didn’t look up. She knew what that meant. Yes, the kitten was lovely, perfect in every way. No, Lindir would not allow it. And there was no changing that. No changing his mind. Not because it was blind, but only because he had allowed two already to invade their chambers. Their bed, their bath, their wardrobe and everywhere else the cats hibernated in, and on, or between, under and on top of. So No, Beatrice would have absolutely have to go ahead with her plan.

Wondering, waiting, “And whom will you give this little one to?,” again Lindir inquired. Smiling, beaming up at him. “Easter!,” she said. “I will give him to Lord Easter.,” and taking the kitten back, Beatrice wrapped the tiny burrito tighter in his blanket. “He keeps saying he wants one. He has fussy requirements this time. Every time. And he wants one that doesn’t move much. So I think, this little guy might just work.” Looking over Beatrice, hearing her surmising of Lord Erestor’s requirements, he relaxed a bit. “Shall I go with you?” Before Beatrice could protest, Lindir had gathered the basket with toys, added a few more blankets. “Let’s go to the kitchens first and find a few supplies he may need, before we just dump this kitten off. For fussy as Lord Erestor is, requirements or no, he may just not want this kitten. And I will not ask what you will do then.” And Lindir cautioned Beatrice with a certain look. “Who could not want him?!,” Beatrice complained. No reply, but a smirk. Another look. “Don’t say it.,” she cautioned.

As Beatrice and Lindir left their chambers to find Erestor and give him a new bundle of joy, she couldn’t help think, Exactly what issues does Master Maimen think I have now?

#Lindir And Beatrice Fiction #Beatrice Is Given The Ultimate Bomb Of Joy #Elladan And Elrohir Fiction #Blind Kittens #A Joy For Erestor Perhaps

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reality-warp · 6 years

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Point That Thing Somewhere Else: Bonus

Part 1 | Part 2 | Bonus

A/N: In answer to the very popular AU question in my inbox: what would it have been like if Eleanor had woken 65-ish years earlier in The Hobbit timeline, and joined the Company of Thorin Oakenshield instead of the Fellowship? Well…

(Bonus: Legolas’ POV)

It was a trick.

That was all Legolas could think as he flew back up the stairs from the dungeons, taking the steps two, sometimes three at a time.

It had to be a trick. A cruel, heartless, faithless trick.

And yet…

The memory of what had just occurred down in the cell blocks lanced through him like molten metal poured into his blood. He hadn’t even thought about the fact that he’d been wearing gloves when he’d pushed back her hair in the forest, but the second the bare skin of his palm had touched her wrist just now…

Warm pins and needles still prickled up his arm from his right hand.

He tried to ignore it, shove the feeling down beneath his panic. But it still felt as if the limb had been frozen all this time, and only now was it coming almost painfully back to life after being dunked in a warm stream.

Only it wasn’t water that had sparked that reaction.

It had been her.

The next few minutes passed as a blur for Legolas. He couldn’t honestly remember specific details when he thought about them. Only that after escaping the dungeon stair cases, he’d gone straight back up to the feast — which was still in full swing — and downed an entire bottle of the king’s top shelf wine.

No glass. No breaths.

He just drank straight out of the bottle in a few long gulps.

He vaguely remembered Tauriel and several other guards gaping at him like he’d lost his mind. To their credit, perhaps he had. Orelion, however, had taken one look at him, set down his own glass, pulled the empty bottle out of his hands, and yanked him out of the hall into an antechamber.

“What has happened?” he asked, shutting the door behind them.

“She…” He started, but damn everything, words and speech itself had all but abandoned him. “Her… she’s… she’s my…”

Orelion’s dark brows furrowed over inquisitive brown eyes that had barely changed since they were elflings.

“Who?” he asked. Legolas gestured somewhat clumsily in the direction of the dungeons. Orelion’s brows furrowed even more. “You mean that tiny elleth travelling with those Dwarves? What about her?”

“She’s… s-she’s mine, Orelion.”

His longest childhood friend just looked confused for an agonisingly long moment. Then slowly, his eyes widened to saucers as comprehension finally dawned.

“Oh… shit.”

Something of an understatement, in Legolas’ opinion.

He might have been a fumbling mess on the outside, but on the inside his mind was racing. How could this even be possible? He’d always been given to believe when an elf discovered their Intended, it was something incredible, beautiful, wondrous to behold. It had certainly been that way for Rȋnwen and Celemir, their dominant senses showing them clearly who their best match truly was. He’d almost been envious to the point of depression of his two close friends in their mutual joy, back when they’d first discovered that unique bond Iluvatar had crafted for them before they’d even been born.

But he wouldn’t envy anyone this feeling.

She wasn’t anything like what he had let himself hope for in those few weak moments of loneliness; when he was constantly surrounded by younger, joyously paired friends and acquaintances, and he past the “typical age of bonding” as Himeleth liked to say.

But this elleth… she wasn’t graceful, poised, patient, kind spoken, or any of the other things he’d once believed his match would be. As far as he could tell, she was a barb tongued she-wolf wrapped in a young woman’s skin.

And now that he thought of it, from what he’d seen of her reaction, did she even understand what had just happened between them…?

Without a word, Orelion stood, and walked from the room. A minute later he returned with another full bottle of red, and two extra large glasses. He filled one to the brim and pushed it towards his friend.

“Here,” he insisted, pouring one for himself too. “Drink, and tell me everything.”

So he did just that.

The next morning, Legolas woke face down on the dining table in that same antechamber, with a snoring Orelion slumped in the chair opposite him, a table littered with empty bottles, and a raging hangover.

Despite his modest age by elf standards, he’d always been rather proud that drinking to the point where his body rebelled had only ever happened thrice before. The first had been after his first official hunt when he’d been a but a hundred and seventeen, barely an adult at all, and not half as wise as he believed himself to be. He’d woken slumped in a broom cupboard to the sight of his father just shaking his head, and closing the door quietly on him.

The other two times had all been joint efforts between Orelion, Elladan, and Elrohir — Lord Elrond’s twin sons, who’d seemed intent on corrupting his innocence in increasingly inventive ways since he was an elfling.

However, none of those times compared to this.

It wasn’t so much that he’d woken with a screeching headache that made it so bad, the slightest sound of a passing maid or a closing door all but breaking open his skull. Nor was it the fact that when he tried to peel his cheek of the solid oak table his head spun and the floor tilted.

No.

It was because despite the table littered with empty bottles, and the company of his passed-out friend, he still had that Valar damned tingle in his right hand from where he’d touched her.

A soft knock came at the door, and it was the loudest thing Legolas had ever heard. He tried not to wince as he sat up, a half conscious Orelion groaning in pain opposite him.

“Yes?” Legolas grunted, trying to sooth the throbbing in his head. “What is it?”

The door swung open with a clamouring screech that probably wasn’t much louder than a whisper, and a distinctly nervous looking guardsman peered in; one of the newer, recently promoted trainees.

“My prince? Are you well?”

“I will be once you’ve stopped talking so loudly,” Legolas growled, unable to feel as bad as he normally would about being so rude to one of his juniors. He was simply in too much pain. “Again, what is it?”

The young guardsman shifted uneasily, peering back down the hall as if contemplating his chances of fleeing.

“It’s the Dwarves, my prince. They’re… gone.”

“What?!” Orelion’s head was instantly up off the table, and in a split second they were both barrelling out of the room and down the hall, straight for the dungeon staircase. When they reached the bottom, they were greeted with the sight of every single cell door wide open, and a pack of frantic looking guardsmen trying to establish how in holy Aman this had happened.

“Where is the keeper of the keys?!” Tauriel was bellowing, a couple of the greener guardsmen actually flinching back at her flaring temper. Head still pounding, especially at the noise, Legolas just stared in disbelief at the baffled expressions on his guardsmen’s faces. Even Rȋnwen — by far their best trapper and tracker — looked utterly stunned by the sight of the entirely empty jail cells.

“This is the securest cellblock in the Woodland Realm! How in Nienna’s mercy did they just break out?” Orelion had the sense to demand.

“One of them must have lifted the keys. The cells weren’t forced. They were all unlocked from the outside,” Celemir answered from where he was examining one of the locks.

“Well they cannot have gone far. Half of you sweep the upper floors, the other half come with me and sweep the cellars,” a still fuming Tauriel ordered before storming down the stairs towards the basements with half the guard in tow.

“Ur… my prince,” one of the younger guardsmen said slowly, and Legolas turned to find him peering into the cell at the very end of the ledge, and peculiar expression on his face. “I think you should see this…”

The second Legolas saw which — or rather who’s — cell the young guard was standing before, he knew what he was going to find…

She’d jammed a small throwing knife into a crack in the mortar, right at the back where no one could miss it. An exact twin to the one he’d managed to take from her the previous evening. The one he still had tucked away in his tunic now.

For a long moment he could do nothing but stare at it, head throbbing, eyes narrowed.

How in the abyss did she even…

“I took a blade off her last night, exactly like that one,” he heard himself muttering.

“She must have had a second one,” Orelion groaned, giving him what might have been a consolatory pat on the shoulder. And damn everything, he was right. The one he’s managed to take when he grabbed her hadn’t been the only one she’d stashed. Just the one she’d intended him to see.

Because right below the embedded knife were a few jagged words she’d left carved into the smooth stone of the cell…

Get over yourself and tell her, Prince Charming.

E. x

Orelion squinted for a long moment at the words, then slowly turned to look at him, both brows raised in incredulity.

“Prince Charming?”

Legolas decided then and there that — Intended or not — if he ever saw that infuriating tornado of a she-elf again, he was going to cheerfully dump her off a cliff. And yet, even as he thought the words…

He couldn’t help but find himself grinning ever so slightly at the idea of seeing that wicked smile of hers again, and getting his own back.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Bonus

A/N: Well that was fun. :) Hope you guys enjoyed reading that half as much as I enjoyed writing it. I still stand by the decision to set RB during the LotR timeline, but I can’t deny setting it during the Hobbit would have been a blast too.

Rella x

#mine #my writing #ravame's bane #ravame's bane trilogy #hobbit au #au #alternate universe #alternate timeline #eleanorxlegolas #eleanor dace #legolas #fili #kili #tauriel #orelion #ocs #mirkwood

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azaisya · 6 years

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stars in our veins

I have a modern fantasy au?? I don’t want to post this to ao3 bc my timeline has changed but , , , i still like it and also the Peredhil kids and Aragorn are Good

Whispers shifted at the edges of Aragorn's consciousness, pulling him from the dark mists of his dreams. With great reluctance, he found himself awake.

Brow furrowing, Aragorn twisted in his blankets, instinctively reaching for his girlfriend. When his fingers grasped nothing but empty sheets — startlingly cool despite the warm night — Aragorn sat up, blinking bemusedly in the dusky light.

New York — eternally awake, even when in the throes of night — glittered faintly beyond the gauzy white curtains that covered the windows. The quiet felt pervasive and unnatural; it felt as if a haze had fallen over the normal honking and nightlife of the city.

Aragorn had just opened his mouth to call for Arwen — their apartment wasn't very big, after all — when he heard her voice, lowered to a whisper.

"—won't tell Ada, and that's why you're here, isn't it?"

Another voice, lower and indistinctive, responded. Aragorn's frown deepened. That vice, muffled though it was, tugged at something in his memories, like a once beloved dream.

Arwen's soft murmur sharpened into something more dangerous. "I said I wouldn't. But I still think you should tell him."

Another indistinct reply sounded, different from the first but still eerily similar. It was like listening to an echo, or a memory.

"I don't care," Arwen's gentle voice replied, "He worries. He deserves to know that you're still alive."

With mounting concern, Aragorn kicked his legs over the side of the bed and padded silently into the living room. The shadows in the apartment seemed to come alive at this time of night, twisting and fumbling and seeking to tear themselves away and join their fellows in the night sky.

It's the witching hour, Arwen always said, voice glittering with traces of star-bright laughter.

Without a sound, he poked his head through the hall, seeking his girlfriend's dark hair and summer-blue night gown. He found her easily, a brilliant wisp of a dream in the quaint lamplight of their almost painfully mundane living room. She sat on the arm of the couch, bent over another figure, her pale fingers flashing as she wrapped a strip of gauze around pale flesh.

For a second, Aragorn thought he was seeing double. Two seemingly young men sat perched on the couch, long limbs sprawled carelessly on the suede. They were raven-haired and fair of face, with slate-grey eyes and danger in their footsteps. There was a strange feyness to the slant of their eyes and the overwhelming grace of their bodies, a trait they shared with the lovely girl standing over them.

But unlike Arwen, there was a haggardness to their faces, a terrible sickliness that seemed to cling to their bones and seep from their pores.

Aragorn knew them both, knew their every mood and jibe, and their state both startled and worried him.

Now content that Arwen hadn't summoned a demon while he'd been sleeping, Aragorn entered the room fully, scuffing his heels on the floor as he did so.

Arwen looked up, the movement bird-like in its abruptness, and her lips twitched into their customary smile: brief but genuine, like the moon at its height.

But the twins reacted as if they'd seen a ghost, faces paling and jaws falling slack. "Estel?" Elladan asked, puzzled, "What are you doing here?"

Aragorn leaned against the couch beside Arwen, dismayed at seeing the bloody cuts that covered both twins. The first-aid kit was propped open on Elrohir's lap, and the younger twin twisted around to stare at Aragorn.

Arwen made a clicking sound in the back of her throat. "Don't move unless you want me to make this hurt."

Elrohir dropped back into his previous position, watching Arwen warily as she stitched up a particularly bad cut on his arm.

"What happened to you two?!" Aragorn demanded, shocked. He'd grown up sparring with the twins, and he'd never seen them with anything worse than minor bruises.

Elladan, who was not being tended to and thus could move however he wished, swiveled his head to stare at Aragorn, fathomless grey eyes narrowing. "Why are you here?"

"I live here," Aragorn replied patiently, already reaching for the alcohol swabs to clean the cuts on Elladan's face. "Now tell me what happened."

Elladan was as poor a patient as ever, twisting out of the way when Aragorn tried to clean his face. "But why do you live here?"

Arwen finished her task and fixed her oldest brother with a sharp stare. "I'd like to know what happened as well."

Elladan ducked under Aragorn, who mumbled something inappropriate under his breath, and protested, "But, Arwen, why is Estel living with you?"

For the first time that night, the vicious creature that dwelt beneath Arwen's skin was revealed. Eyes piercing, she smiled deliberately, teeth suddenly sharp beneath her thin lips. "Elladan."

Elladan immediately sat still, and Aragorn happily began cleaning the grime from his cuts. Stripped from his humor and bristling, he felt suddenly brittle, as fragile as a fledgling fallen from the nest. His skin felt papery beneath Aragorn's fingers, and he frowned to see the thin black threads — like forgotten shadows — that twisted beneath Elladan's skin.

Elrohir shifted until he was at his twin's side, gaze oddly defiant. "We've been putting to right what is wrong."

Aragorn tossed his swab into the trash and replied warily, "Righting wrongs is not always your right." He knew his brothers, knew how quick to anger they were.

They made a sorry sight, sitting on the couch with their marble skin marred by strange cuts and all-too-human bandages. Darkness lurked beneath their eyes, and there was a stalwart defiance in the sets of their shoulders. But exhaustion exuded from them both in waves, and Elladan seemed nearly sick with it.

There were those who said Elrohir was the gentler of the twins.

They would be wrong.

Elrohir's lips drew back into a feral snarl, and a streak of raven feathers erupted across his skin. "We did not come here to be judged by you!" The feathers faded, and his skin returned to its unnatural whiteness. The cuts that Arwen had not covered stood out, starkly scarlet against his star-pale flesh. "By either of you," he added, almost as an afterthought.

Of the three blood siblings, Arwen had always been the intellectual one. Elladan and Elrohir were the ones with their souls forged in flames; Arwen had always belonged to the stars, distant and cold. "Yes, but you came anyways and knew we would.” She paused, considering, and amended, “Or, you knew I would. You didn’t know Aragorn was here. Tell us what happened, El."

Elrohir looked down, unexpectedly chastised by the childish nickname. Aragorn seized the lull in the conversation and extended his hands towards the younger twin, fingers brushing feather-light above his injuries. A power — as natural and unexplainable as the universe itself — shifted, pooling at Aragorn's fingers and spilling into Elrohir. The burning of his cuts calmed, and his flesh knitted itself back together.

Elladan raised his head to look at his sister, allowing her to see the emotions that stormed beneath his glassy grey eyes. "We need somewhere safe to stay, Arwen."

There was history in those words, history that Aragorn didn't understand, and he paused in his work to frown at his girlfriend.

A shadow passed over her face, and her voice was carefully neutral when she spoke. "You've been hunting the Corrupted?"

Elrohir felt the shock that lanced through Aragorn at those words, and his eyes flashed fleetingly to him. "It's not as bad as she makes it sound."

"No," Aragorn agreed, "It's not. It's worse." He drew his hands away, for his hands were shaking now, and he didn't want the healing bond to be active when he was so distressed. "The Corrupted are twisted abominations of that which was fairest. They’re dangerous." There was some resentment in his tone, just the barest whisper of anger. He loved the twins, but he would forever be angry with them for vanishing without a trace on his eighteenth birthday, taking nothing but the clothes on their backs and the ceremonial longswords that hung in Elrond's study.

Elrond had been shattered to discover his sons had left, vanished into the night as they had decaded prior, and Aragorn had missed them terribly.

A bright light — foul and foreign — entered Elrohir's eyes, and he insisted, "We're dangerous too, Estel! Elladan and I— it is our sacred duty to keep the streets free of those monsters."

"But you needn't vanish for years on end!" Aragorn said abruptly, louder than he'd intended to.

Both twins flinched, for Aragorn so rarely raised his voice. He'd always been a happy child, and he'd grown into a noble adult.

"You don't understand!" Elrohir cried, making to stand. But Elladan grabbed his arm and kept him down.

"We have other people to fight," Aragorn protested. "Glorfindel has always kept the peace in Imladris—"

"But Imladris' borders don't even reach Maine," Elladan said quietly, "And Glorfindel cannot protect everybody."

Confused, Aragorn asked, "So you take it upon yourselves to singlehandedly hunt down all of the Corrupted?"

"If that is what it takes to protect innocents, then yes," Elrohir snapped.

Frustrated, Aragorn demanded, "Do you know how many of them there are on the East Coast alone?"

Arwen's voice, soft but powerful, cut through their argument. "Naneth died to give us a second chance."

The twins flushed angrily and, for a second, something foreign and ugly and dangerous filled their eyes. Elladan exclaimed, "And we're taking it by avenging her!"

Arwen's eyes flashed, and something very old awoke within her. "She didn't die so you could waste your souls on something as foul as revenge! Did you learn nothing from Ada's lessons? Would you honor her memory by squandering your souls on killing?"

"What else would you have us do?!" Elrohir cried, voice cracking. "Go to a school that can teach us nothing? Buy an apartment in New York? Live with our little brother?"

Arwen stood still as a statue, but there was something darkly angry under her passive expression. "Aragorn is not my bother. I was not raised with him, and what little blood we share has been diluted enough that I don't care. I don't care if you think college is useless! I'm not telling you to live my life. I'm telling you to live. You deserve so much better than devoting your life to vengeance."

Aragorn murmured, "Ada will be happy to see you again. He hasn't been the same since you left."

Something crumpled beneath Elladan's eyes. "I- I don't know if I can do that," he whispered, and everybody in the room noted his switch from we to I.

"You can," Arwen said fiercely, reaching forwards and grasping his hands, "You can let go of your anger and your revenge and even your oath!"

Elladan just stared miserably at her. "You don't understand," he said, but the words were weaker than before. "We've spent so many years hunting. If we give up now, what was it all for?"

Elrohir cut off whatever Arwen had been about to say, eyes blazing. "We can't just stop! We swore an oath, Arwen!"

"Then break it," she replied, matter-of-factly.

Elrohir's lips curled into a sneer. "You don't understand."

"But I do!" Arwen exclaimed, her frustration finally breaking her calm mask. Something swift tore across her face, and she leaped from the couch and turned away from them. "You don't! I loved Nana just as much as you did, but I don't go on a massacre because she died!" She turned abruptly, star-bright eyes suddenly glittering with tears. "Can't you see that you're doing nothing but hurting everybody?"

Taken aback, Elrohir could only stare. Aragorn scowled at his brothers, and raised his head to look at Arwen. He felt her mind, feather-light, touch upon his, and he sent a wave of reassurance to her. The panic in her eyes faded a little, but she didn't stop crying.

Elladan slowly stood, and it didn't escape Aragorn's notice that he was favoring his right leg. "Oh, no, don't cry." Dismayed, he tried to step forwards, but Arwen stopped him with a look. "Arwen, please. We're sorry. I'm sorry. I just—" He trailed off, clearly miserable.

Quietly, Elrohir murmured, "I'm sorry too." He looked sheepishly from his blood sister to his foster brother. "We've been idiots, haven't we?"

"Yes!" Arwen cried, tearfully furious, "You need to grieve, not kill." She sniffed and rubbed at her eyes.

Aragorn perched on the opposite side of the couch and asked, "You'll stop disappearing now?"

Elrohir shrugged. "We'll try. We can't break our oath."

Aragorn only knew bits and pieces of the twins's story. He'd picked up hints and whispers and sorrow from his foster father and from Arwen, and it horrified him to learn that his brothers had truly sworn to wipe out the Corrupted.

"But you can visit home more often," he suggested, tactfully not mentioning the last three years that had passed without a word from either twin.

"Or not bring swords to Thanksgiving," Arwen added, "And . . . I know I cannot ask you to break your oath. Just . . . please don’t be so reckless." She alighted on the suede, hair fanning out on the back of the couch, and Aragorn instinctively reached out to rest his hand o her shoulder.

Elladan closed his eyes. "I don't know if we can stop, Arwen."

"You can," she said decisively, "Hunting the Corrupted is not a bad thing, El. But to do so out of hate? For revenge? That will destroy your souls."

Both twins flinched and Aragorn's eyes widened. "It has, hasn't it?" His grey eyes suddenly flashed silver, and the sleep-mussed human man that had been sitting there moments ago was replaced by something otherworldly. To his eyes, Arwen gleamed with starlight. She was pure and beautiful and whole; she belonged here. But the twins. . . .

Their souls were torn nearly to ribbons, blackened feathers drifting from pale strings that strained to hold skin onto bones and life onto flesh.

Horrified, Aragorn reached out. "You can't Phase anymore, can you?" His fingers touched Elladan's knee, lightly, and the older twin flinched as though struck. Milky light streamed from Aragorn into Elladan, soothing the rifts in his soul.

Elladan relaxed against the couch, eyes fluttering shut. "Estel, we haven't been able to Phase since Nana died."

Arwen shuddered and ran her hands over her bare arms. "I can't imagine being trapped in my own skin."

Elladan cracked one eye open. "It's not fun," he said miserably.

Aragorn maneouvred around Arwen to repeat the process with Elrohir. Elrohir protested at first, but Aragorn firmly placed his hands on the younger twin's shoulders. "I've gotten better since last time," he said mildly, "I won't turn your skin blue."

"As if I'd trust you," Elrohir said, his voice trembling with the memory of the banter they'd once had.

Aragorn flashed a brief smile, unsure if he had forgiven his brothers yet, and sent his power into Elrohir. The younger twin immediately sighed and fell limply against Elladan, eyes slipping shut as well.

Arwen unfolded herself from where she sat, eyes lidded with exhaustion. "They'll fall asleep soon," she murmured.

"That's good," Aragorn replied, holding his arms out to her. "They need healing, and lots of it. How long have they been hunting?"

Arwen threw herself at him, her form shifting into a raven halfway through her leap. He caught her and held her close to his chest, taking comfort in her familiar feathers. In his mind, she said, Too long.

"That's true enough," he agreed, checking one last time to make sure the twins were alright. They were both sound asleep, expressions peaceful for the first time that night. "They'll need Ada to see to their souls. I'm not sure if they'll ever be whole enough to Phase again."

In his arms, Arwen trembled, and he ran his fingers over the soft feathers on her head. They wouldn't have come to us if they hadn't been injured. Their promises tonight might just be their exhaustion.

"I'll text Ada in the morning," Aragorn said decisively, turning to head back to the bedroom, "And I'm linked to them right now. I'll notice if they leave."

They'll be angry, she murmured, They've spent so long avoiding any sort of comfort.

Aragorn shrugged. Arwen shifted and took to the air. By the time she hit the bed, she was human again, her night-dress stained pitch black, and she curled up in the covers and closed her eyes.

Smiling softly at her, Aragorn settled in beside her. "They'll be alright though," he murmured, burying his face in her hair, "We won't let them fall into darkness again."

She turned to grasp his hand, and he could feel the stars beneath her skin. "Not ever again."

(The Peredhil are shape-shifters in this world. Aragorn, who’s descended from Elros, isn’t able to Phase like Arwen can because his “other” blood is too diluted by “human” blood, but he has enough “otherness” to heal)

#aragorn #arwen #elladan #elrohir #lord of the rings #modern fantasy au #siov #more words #lotr fanfiction #elrond and celebrían are mentioned only #i might write their story one day #candleswriting #here down in the valley

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the-dan-in-high-castle · 7 years

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The Lord of the Rings: Were some film changes justified?

Hi there, peeps. So this is the first time I’ve done something like this, but I thought I’d dig into something a little juicy and which often provokes a lot of debate in the literary sphere: whether or not the changes made from the original LOTR books to the film trilogy by Peter Jackson were justified or not.

Every book-to-movie translation features changes, and I mean every single one. We see it all over, with movies like the Harry Potter franchise, The Golden Compass, Alice in Wonderland, The Chronicles of Narnia, and perhaps most famously with Lord of the Rings.

The reasons for these changes vary greatly. Some directors choose to erase aspects of the source material to shorten the overall length of a film, or to stop a film becoming clustered with too many plotlines or characters. Others may change a certain scene, location or character to better suit their vision of the adaptation, and some go as far as re-writing the plot to end differently altogether. For this post, I’m going to split LOTR changes into three categories:

The erasure of characters included in the novels

The change of characters included in both the novels and the films, either in actions, context or personality

The alteration of certain plot-lines and stories

Character removal

Yes, we will be talking about Tom Bombadil here to start with. The singing, dancing forest-lurker introduced in Chapter VI of Fellowship of the Ring, Tom acts as a seemingly random inclusion into the story, guiding the four Hobbits through the Barrow-downs and saving them from the undead Barrow-wights, while gifting the Hobbits the Númenorean daggers, one of which Merry uses to help kill the Witch-King in Return of the King. Bombadil has become the butt of many jokes among fans for his spontaneous appearance in the storyline, his apparent lack of significance in the plot as a whole, and simply because all he does is sing to trees and dance around his house. With this in mind, it makes sense entirely that Tom isn’t included in the films. He doesn’t appear for the rest of the films, he has minimal impact in the overall story, and he’s a bit of a joke character.

One more aggravating removal is that of Elladan and Elrohir, the sons of Elrond, as well as the Grey Company. The Grey Company, a group of elite Dúnedain soldiers led by Aragorn’s close friend, Halbarad, appear first in Return of the King, following Aragorn through the Paths of the Dead and helping him reclaim Pelargir and then the Pelenoor Fields. Elladan and Elrohir accompany the Grey Company, though also appear earlier in Rivendell in Fellowship of the Ring, and are also responsible for re-forging Anduril for Aragorn. The characters did not diminish at all from the overall story, with the Grey Company allowing Aragorn to show his leadership and control before his eventual succession to the throne, while Elladan and Elrohir gave more representation to the Elves, while also furthering the family of Elrond further, as in the books. Erasing them not only removes the Dúnedain from any mention save a conversation between Aragorn and Eowyn, but also erodes Elrond’s two eldest children from existence.

There are other exclusions which do make some sense, in my opinion. Quickbeam, an Ent that befriends Merry and Pippin, is quite a humorous character in the books, but also does little to the story and would simply take up time and budget. There is also no mention of Bill Ferny, the corrupt Northmen who tells the Nazgul of the Hobbits being in Bree, though he wasn’t necessary in this regard either. Finally, there is the absence of Glorfindel, though I’ll explore that one when we look at the next section.

The alteration of characters

Faramir. Good grief, how they annoyed me with the depiction of Faramir in the films. Book-Faramir is genuinely one of the most noble and generous characters in the entire trilogy. He shows care and attention to Frodo and Sam, and while he is suspicious of Gollum, he never abuses him as is shown in the movies. More importantly, Faramir never attempts to take the Ring from Frodo, identifying it immediately as a source of evil. However, most significant is that Faramir aids Frodo in his journey by giving him food, as well as advising him not to trust Gollum nor to pass through Cirith Ungol. The contrast with Movie-Faramir, who at first acts out of greed and desperation to bring the Ring to Gondor, while also mistreating and abusing the trio travelling to Mordor, is a crude corruption of the noble Captain seen in the novels. Faramir’s actions seemed only to justify the scenes in Osgiliath, though these would much eagerly be replaced by the scenes involving the Window of the West in my opinion, which featured some of the best settings and dialogue in the entire trilogy.

Next, we move to Arwen. Arwen is one of the few characters to actually receive a greatly expanded role in the movies. Not only do we see her far earlier in Fellowship of the Ring, bearing Frodo to Rivendell, but we also see her struggles with journeying to Valinor and her romance with Aragorn, which is only ever mentioned in the books. Arwen’s expansion does help give some depth to one of the few female characters in the series, but also comes at the expense of other characters. Not only do the scenes detailing her inner turmoil and her relationship lead to the removal or cutting down of some characters, but her inclusion in some parts usurps the role of other characters, such as when Glorfindel rescues Frodo in the novel. Arwen’s changes are 50/50, as while the exploration of a character we know little about is somewhat appreciated, part of her appeal in the novels was her mystique, if Frodo’s perspective tells us anything, and her expansion comes at the cost of many other side characters.

Other character changes are somewhat minimal. The age of the Hobbits is greatly reduced, with Frodo being shown as a young adult, even though he is middle-aged in the books, though this comes down to a narrative change. Denethor is slightly differed also: while the books present him first with cunning and wit, which gradually descends as the story progresses, the movie presents him from the start of Return of the King as a man already lost to grief and madness, denying the audience the chance to see why he became the twisted and desperate man we see in the novels.

Alteration of the plot

In respect to Jackson, he did a far better job than most book-to-film directors in keeping to the plot of the trilogy (more than I can say for the Hobbit cough cough) but he is not without his blunders.

Remember the Scouring of the Shire? Peter Jackson doesn’t. One of the final chapters of Return of the King, the Scouring of the Shire was the takeover of the Shire by brigands loyal to Saruman (no, he didn’t fall off Orthanc at the start of RotK) and their subsequent defeat by the rebellious Hobbits, with Saruman being murdered by Wormtongue in the aftermath. The Scouring is definitely an usual addition, seemingly placed in the novel to close out Saruman after his escape from Orthanc. It did make some sense to cut out the Scouring, since it would have taken up time in an otherwise lengthy movie, and Jackson does well to allude to it with the Mirror of Galadriel in Fellowship, but getting to see an army of Hobbits beat up a bunch of bandits and thugs to round out the trilogy would have certainly been entertaining. Still, it makes sense to cut it.

What doesn’t make sense is the inclusion of Frodo, Sam and Gollum in the Battle of Osgiliath in Two Towers. Why were they there? The inclusion was practically nonsensical, since not only did it draw out the scenes where the audience was met with an (unsuitably) arrogant Faramir who they weren’t growing to like, but the battle scene never even included the other three characters fighting. If you want to add in a battle, go ahead, but don’t add a battle that nobody takes part in except extras. The battle wasn’t even that special, with the battle scenes themselves being clunky and the inclusion of the Nazgul being completely unnecessary, since we had not only seen them not long before over the Dead Marshes, but would later see them rip everything up in Minas Tirith. It’s a clunky addition that also deprives us of the scenes of respite that the novel chapters with Faramir provide. The last thing we really need at this point is turmoil and battle, and it only adds to the cluster of action going on at the end of the film.

Some smaller changes connect to the past two categories, such as the Grey Company coming to aid Aragorn and the complete removal of the Old Forest or the Barrow-downs, as well as the scenes in Buckland we see in the book where the reader learns that the Hobbits are being spied on. One of the more egregious changes in my personal opinion is the removal of the meeting between the Elves, led by Gildor, and the three Hobbits; Frodo, Sam and Pippin. The meeting is diminished to the passing of a group of Elves by Frodo and Sam in the film, and takes away from the mystique of the Elves that Jackson later tries to build in Rivendell. The meeting is one of the lighter-hearted portrayals of the Elves in the series, and the absence of the meeting does nothing but maintain the presentation of Elves as sullen, miserable warriors without any cheer or heart.

Conclusion

So which changes are justified from book to film?

Definitely the removal of Tom Bombadil. While I enjoyed the Bombadil chapters in the book, they wouldn’t have done much good for the movies.

The Scouring of the Shire. An interesting little storyline, but not significant enough to add to the films meaningfully, especially not a movie as long as Return of the King

The expansion of Arwen’s character. Tolkien admittedly included very few significant female characters, and so it is good of Jackson to expand on Arwen as a strong female figure.

Which changes weren’t justified?

Faramir. Changing Faramir into a near-antagonist for the entirety of Two Towers did nothing but give the audience a character to hate other than Gollum, which wasn’t necessary, since Gollum acts perfectly as a troubled, two-faced villain for the audience to be indecisive on. Faramir should have stayed as the strong source of hope in an otherwise troubled kingdom.

The removal of various Elf characters. This includes Glorfindel, Elladan, Elrohir and Gildor. Four Elf characters that show far more heart and charisma than other Elves, yet are left out. Their inclusion could have added another dimension to the Elf race, but this is unfortunately avoided by Jackson.

How Denethor is presented. Denethor in the books started as witty and cunning, if not also paranoid, and over the course of Return of the King the reader sees the paranoia slowly take over his more respectable aspects. From the start of the movie, however, Denethor is depicted as broken and shallow, and so the audience misses out on that immersive transition.

Did Jackson mess up some stuff? Yeah, absolutely. If you’re of the belief that the books are absolutely perfect, you’re never gonna think a film adaptation will be as good since things will definitely change. However, as far as film adaptations of novels go, Jackson did a respectable job. He contained all the vital plot aspects, maintained the personalities of most characters while expanding on others, and gave us some absolutely gorgeous settings and art designs. Not bad, PJ. Not bad.

#tolkien #jrr tolkien #lord of the rings #lotr #middle-earth #middle earth #film #adaptation #book #films #long post

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brazenbells · 7 years

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snippet of loathing: the peredhel page

I sent @imindhowwelayinjune the first half of this with the subject line “I’m using this as evidence in the divorce hearing.”

This shit is why I don’t sleep at night.

The horse lords usually received them with a great deal of enthusiasm. This greeting wasn’t precisely...unethusiastic, as greetings went, but there was a strange tension in the air that made the brothers look to one another in concern.

The reason did not immediately reveal itself. They were welcomed as usual, given lodging and supper and a promised audience on the morrow, and Elladan was just beginning to think that maybe they’d imagined the odd atmosphere when the old man knocked on the door.

Elrohir had gone to the stables after their supper—he always liked to speak with the stablemaster when they came, trading knowledge and suggestions—so Elladan was the only one to hear. He rose and opened the door, and was a little surprised at the keen, slightly hostile gaze that greeted him there.

“Which one are you?” The man, white-haired and stooped a bit though hale still, pointed a finger at him as if he were a misbehaving child.

The rider-folk were often forthright, but rarely so rude; Elladan was a little flustered. “I am called Elladan. Elrohir is my brother.”

“Just the one I’m looking for,” the man snapped, as if Elladan had offended simply by being the correct twin. “Come along then.”

Elladan, entirely bemused, followed him. It wasn’t as if he had anything better to do than unravel the mystery of this odd old man’s arrival.

They went out of the main hall, down the main thoroughfare of the city, down and down until they broke off onto a darker way—if Elladan hadn’t felt entirely certain of the horse-lords’ friendship, he’d be worrying about an ambush. But it seemed the man was only leading him to a cottage after all.

He threw the door open with some relish, as if winning an argument Elladan didn’t know they’d had. Inside, clustered about a sturdy table, was a family that seemed perfectly unremarkable to Elladan’s eyes. An old woman who was likely the man’s wife; a younger man and woman who he could guess were their child and child’s spouse, though he could not tell by looking which was their blood; and a brood of children all laughing or teasing one another or working at some mysterious childlike task of their own. It seemed very dully domestic.

The adults had paused at their coming, and were now each staring at Elladan. He did not quite know what was expected of him. He looked blankly back, and at last the younger woman seemed to take pity on him.

“Here he is,” she said softly, plucking a boy of maybe three out of the child-horde, setting him down in front of Elladan. The boy was fair-haired and chinless and smiled up at him in a way that was more than a little unsettling.

“I’m sorry,” Elladan said at last, “I think I have missed something.”

“Hi there, Father!” the child said, in the worst-accented Sindarin Elladan had ever heard.

“A cough took her last spring.” Eadlin, the younger woman, turned out to be the boy’s aunt. Faline had been her older sister; Elladan remembered the name well enough. Eadlin poured him a cup of mead as she spoke—doubtless he looked like he needed it. “We thought she’d sent word to you about the boy. I’m sorry Father sprung it on you unawares.”

Elladan took the cup with thanks, and drained it faster than was strictly polite. He imagined she would understand. “I mean this in the most respectful way—from the little I knew your sister, she was a fine woman—but are you certain he’s…?” He couldn’t quite bring himself to say mine, knowing the insult it would be. “There isn’t much resemblance,” he said instead, after an awkward pause.

Eadlin was a good sort, and did not take umbrage. “You’ll see when you get to know him. He’s...strange. Begging your pardon.”

Elladan could hardly take offense at ‘strange’ being a way in which the boy resembled him. He and Elrohir were strange everywhere but in their father’s house; too much Elf for men and too much Man for elves, always set a little apart. Still, he was skeptical.

Eadlin clucked her tongue at his expression. “Anyway, if you knew anything about Mannish children, you wouldn’t look so disbelieving. It’s fifteen years since you last visited the Riddermark—I was just a girl when you made eyes at my sister! If Cen were a mortal’s son, he’d be breaking colts already, or training to join the King’s Riders.”

Elladan’s heart sank. He hadn’t realized it had been so long. He couldn’t very well dispute the logic. “Cen?” he asked, because he wasn’t sure what else to say.

“She named him Annrochmacenneth Ellon.” Elladan choked on his mead, and Eadlin nodded sympathetically. “She was so very enchanted with your people, you know. There’s a man from Gondor across the way who would trade her Elvish lessons for mending, and she wanted to give the boy a proper Elvish name. We just call him Cenneth, it’s less of a mouthful.”

Elladan tried to disguise his grimace when she said proper Elvish. “Well.” He paused, searching for words. “I’ll take care of his expenses, of course. When he’s old enough, he might be educated in Gondor—not that there’s anything wrong with Rohan, that is,” he amended quickly. “I mean, if his mother would have wanted him to have a Sindarin education.”

Eadlin arched an eyebrow. “I expect he’d get a better one in Rivendell,” she said pointedly, and Elladan realized with sudden awful clarity what it was they wanted of him.

“He should be with his people,” he protested, knowing before the words left his mouth that it was a pitiful argument.

“Yes.” Eadlin stared him down. “He should.”

Elladan sighed. Elrohir was going to kill him when he found out.

#did you want a lotr/30 rock crossover?#no neither did i #why am i writing serious fic for this crack prompt #because june is awful that's why

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twilight-deviant · 5 years

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Hey hi! Um so (correct me if I'm wrong) Legolas is younger than the twins, right? Maybe even younger than Arwen? How much younger do you think he was?

Hey hi, Anon!

I cannot correct you if you’re wrong. o___o

I wasn’t sure which Tolkien twins you meant until you mentioned Arwen. Gonna assume you’re talking about Elladan and Elrohir.

I regret to inform that, due to Legolas being a last minute addition to the Fellowship, Tolkien never really fleshed out his character. We have no idea how old he is. We don’t even know his hair is blond with certainty. We just assume it is because his father has blond hair. (Also it is a pretty prevalent theme with Sindar royalty. Then again, twins/Arwen did not get Celebrian’s silver/blonde hair. I guess we really can’t make assumptions on Legolas’s hair color… especially not without knowing his mother. Gonna go with blond though.)

There are mentions of Thranduil and his father Oropher in the Second Age, like settling into Mirkwood/Greenwood. Legolas isn’t mentioned here, so maybe he wasn’t born yet?

Thranduil/Oropher were also at the Battle of the Last Alliance against Sauron, but Legolas isn’t mentioned in it either. Meaning if he was alive at the end of the Second Age, maybe he wasn’t old enough to go to war. I’d wager saying he wasn’t alive yet though. Because Elves only have children in times of peace, so they may enjoy raising them in happy times. And there definitely wasn’t peace in the 100 years leading up to the Last Alliance. (100 being the age when Elves are considered adults and Legolas perhaps could have gone to war with them.)

So let’s say he was born during the Third Age. Which makes sense. That really was when people felt a little optimistic that evil might have gone, at least for awhile. It’s when Elrond/Celebrian get married and have their children, after all.

Elladan/Elrohir were born in 130 TA.Arwen was born in 241 TA.

Let’s just say for now Legolas was born in the Third Age. But when?

In The Two Towers, this is written in comparison to the fallen kings of Rohan and its founding:

“Five hundred times have the red leaves fallen in Mirkwood in my home since then,” said Legolas, “and but a little while does that seem to us.”

So by the sound of it, even though he is speaking about Elves in general, Legolas considers himself much older than 500. That many years is “a little while.” But again, he uses “us,” talking about Elves as a whole.

And honestly? That’s about where logic fails here. I don’t, Anon. I just don’t know. No one does. Tolkien didn’t give enough clues. All we can do is make a wide assumption on Legolas’s age. I personally like to go with the above rationale, meaning he is at least 500 but may have been born as early as the end of the Second Age (99 years before the Last Alliance). So, imo……

Legolas is anywhere between 500 and 3,128.

So yes, he could be younger than the twins or Arwen. Or he could be older. We just don’t know. He can fall anywhere between 500 and 3,000+. He might even be older than 3,000 and Tolkien just forgot about him again and didn’t think to include him in Last Alliance talk.

Just don’t know…………..

__________

This got much longer than I intended. But Legolas’s age is an interesting topic to pursue. Because we really don’t have an answer and very likely never will. (Unless Christopher Tolkien finds an errant note somewhere???)

If you need the information for fanon reasons, make Legolas whatever age you want within reasonable parameters. Have at. If you’re trying to win a dispute with someone, tell the person you’re both right (in that neither of you can be proven wrong). Hope this may have helped in some way.

If anyone has information that could expand on Legolas’s supposed age, please feel free to comment and help Anon. (Just, ya know, make sure you’re speaking with a canon source.)

#Anonymous #Ask #Legolas's age is so effing frustrating for Tolkien fans #A mystery #Never to be solved #*X-Files Theme*#Tolkien #Lord of the Rings #Legolas Greenleef

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