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The Fellowship of the Ring was in Lothlorien. Gandalf the Grey-the oldest, wisest member of your company had fallen in the Mines of Moria while attempting to protect the rest of you from the demon-the Balrog. The foe had been far too great for any of you to contend with, so Gandalf had sacrificed himself to save all of you. You would never have survived if it hadn't been for him and what he did.

You were shocked, and confused, and saddened. It was so sudden, so unexpected, and none of you had seen it coming. But there was one member of the Fellowship, who was having a harder time than others: you.

You were a woman from an alternate reality-an alternate dimension, who had one day woken in Middle earth with no idea where you were or how you'd ended up there.

Gandalf had been the very first person you'd encountered in this world, and he'd taken you under his wing, so to speak. With important errands to run one day though, he'd left you with Frodo in the Shire. Not long after that, the two of you, along with Sam, Merry, and Pippin, had made your way to Bree where you were to meet Gandalf.

The strange, Black Riders hadn't exactly on the program, and neither had Gandalf not being at the inn, though the Ranger Strider had been a good replacement, even if Frodo ended up injured.

Still, you'd been more than a little relieved to see Gandalf in Rivendell. You hadn't expected to end up involved and included with the whole 'Ring' thing, let alone become the tenth member of the Fellowship, but there it was.

While not everything since heading out had been a walk in the park, the Mines-the mines had been the worst. Losing Gandalf was like losing your safety net, but worse since he wouldn't be coming back.

You'd been the first to break down after it happened, and the others were left to support you, in more ways than one, despite their own grief. And yet, all this served to do was remind you of just how helpless you were. It reminded you just how much of a burden you were on the others.

These weren't new thoughts though. Not at all. You'd felt like this back home in your own world too. They were just magnified here because you had no way of supporting or helping yourself. Or so you thought, at least.

Drawing your knees to your chest, you tried to push back the tears that threatened to fall. You didn't want anyone to see you making a fool out of yourself. You were alone at the moment, yes, but you still didn't want to risk it. You couldn't.

Besides, having to explain everything would be humiliating and complicated enough anyway.

...Why were you like this?

Tears pooled in your eyes. Why did you always have to think like this? Unable to stop the thoughts, and beginning to feel even worse, the tears started to fall.

Why were you so damn worthless?

You tried to bite back a sob, but it escaped anyway, and once it did, you couldn't stop others from following suit. And before you knew it, you were quietly sobbing away, tears streaming down your cheeks, shoulders shaking, chest heaving.

You couldn't stop, couldn't force the thoughts away, even as you tried to press your hands to your mouth to muffle the sounds.

A hand on your shoulder had you jumping in surprise and choking on a sob. Your head snapped up and you found Aragorn standing over you, grey eyes looking down at you in concern.

You froze. This man was the last person you wanted to find you in such an embarrassing state. But he didn't laugh. He didn't mock you in any way. Instead, he lowered himself down next to you, his hand still on your shoulder. It was warm. Comforting.

Undeserved.

"(Y/N)?"

He was worried. Worried about you. Oh look, yet another person you were causing to feel concern for you. You really couldn't do anything, could you? You couldn't even angst properly without worrying someone!

And these thoughts led to more, which had more tears falling. You sobbed again and brought your hands up to cover your face. "God, I'm so worthless!"

But Aragorn didn't move away or leave you. He eased you closer and enfolded you in a strong embrace. "You are anything but worthless, (Y/N)! You cannot say that of yourself!"

...Had you said that out loud? You certainly hadn't meant to. And now you were crying all over him. Wasn't that fantastic?

Aragorn ran his fingers through your hair. "Hush, Ithil nin, hush." He tightened his hold on you. "You are not useless, (Y/N). You are strong." (my moon)

"I'm not!"

"You are," he said calmly. "You are strong." His tone was gentle but there was a firmness to his voice that you were trying to ignore.

"One of the strongest members of our Fellowship."

The second voice had you freezing again, then releasing a half sob, half groan when you recognized who the voice belonged to.

Legolas stepped over to the bank of the spring before gracefully lowering down to his knees on your other side. He reached out and brushed your hair back behind your ear. "You are the one who has been keeping all of us together this entire time. Someone weak would not be capable of such a great feat."

Unwilling to believe the words, you shook your head in denial. "You're lying! Both of you! I'm always getting in the way! I'm always letting everyone down! I'm worthless. Completely and utterly worthless. I always have been. I know that!" you exclaimed with an anguished cry.

The words spilled past your lips against your volition as for the first time in your life, you confessed what you'd been thinking-been feeling for a frustrating number of years.

For a moment it was silent, the gentle lapping of the water of the spring nearby and the lightly blowing breeze the only things audible in the air around you along with your too-loud breathing.

"Who has been poisoning your mind with these lies, Ithil nin?" asked Aragorn, suddenly breaking the heavy silence. (my moon)

"They are all false, (Y/N). Each and every one of them," Legolas agreed.

"But-!"

"Hush." Aragorn shifted his grip on you, even as Legolas shook his head.

"Now we will speak and you will listen, Sadril," said Legolas. (loyal one)

Slowly, you nodded hesitantly as both moved closer to you, their eyes intent. They each took one of your hands-one calloused and the other smooth, firm and gentle.

"Whoever has spent years telling you these lies was a fool," said Aragorn.

"I was not jesting or lying when I claimed you are the one who has been keeping the Fellowship together, (Y/N)," said Legolas, taking over. "You have been doing so since the very beginning-since we left Imladris, and from what I have heard, before that as well. Though it pains me to see that you've yet to notice this yourself."

No, you hadn't noticed. Not at all. Hadn't even considered the notion, honestly. Hadn't dared to. How could you? You were you.

"You have never been a burden on any of us," said Aragorn, as if understanding what you were thinking. "Thrust into a strange world without your knowledge or consent, surrounded by races that do not exist in your world, caught in battles against beasts that wish for nothing more than to end your precious life."

"Your own world is nothing at all like ours," said Legolas. He smiled slightly. "Given the circumstances, any...complaining you may have done is warranted, is it not?"

"And who else in the Fellowship has been working so hard to learn to wield a sword?" said Aragorn with a tiny smile of his own.

"Certainly not the hobbits," replied Legolas, despite knowing the question was rhetorical. "Though you cannot deny the four have been practising hard as well."

You cracked a smile, unable to help yourself as you remembered the hobbits' many sparring sessions with the surprisingly patient Boromir.

"There we are. There's that beautiful smile we have all come to love."

Your cheeks heated slightly at the words, but you didn't say anything. Couldn't bring yourself to. Couldn't trust yourself or your voice.

Aragorn sighed softly, though it wasn't a sound of irritation or boredom. He cupped your face in his calloused hands. "You are a burden on no one, (Y/N), and you have never once let any of us down."

Legolas reached out now too, setting a hand on your back. "And what this means is that you have never been worthless, (Y/N). Nor will you ever be so."

You stared in disbelief. "...R-really?" You hated how meek and pathetic you sounded at the moment, despised it honestly, but this really was the closest you had ever gotten to acceptance of some kind-of any kind.

"Yes," the other two echoed together, eyes boring into yours. It was all too clear that they were determined to get their point across.

And the strange thing about all this was that you were actually beginning to believe them. You wouldn't have if it was anyone else telling you, but these two... Aragorn and Legolas weren't the types to lie. Especially not about this sort of thing. They were too honourable for that.

...Maybe they really were right.

You felt yourself relaxing as years of pent-up stress left you all at once. "Th-thank you!" you half sobbed, though even you were able to hear the relief in your voice.

"There, there. No more tears now, Sadril," said Legolas soothingly, as Aragorn used his thumbs to brush them off your cheeks. (loyal one)

You breathed in, held the breath for a few seconds, and let it out just as slowly, relaxing even further. And then you smiled.

You weren't sure who moved first, but suddenly, Aragorn's lips were pressed to yours. You froze yet again, mind slow to process what was happening. Your lips parted slightly as you released a sound of surprise, but the man's tongue swept forward, barely touching your own before it pulled back and the kiss came to an end.

You only managed to take a single breath before a second pair of lips, these softer than Aragorn's chapped pair, were on yours.

Legolas' kiss went much like Aragorn's did-over before you could even understand what was happening. When he pulled away too, you opened your eyes, absently wondering when you had closed them in the first place.

Both of them were watching you with gentle expressions, as if waiting to see what you would do or how you would react. Well, that was a bit of a head-scratcher, wasn't it? Because you had no idea what to think, let alone say or do.

"Er-I..."

"Let go, (Y/N)."

You blinked. "I thought I already did." Wasn't that what you'd been doing while crying your eyes out earlier?

"Let yourself fall, Ithil nin," said Aragorn, running his thumb across your bottom lip. "For once, allow yourself to fall." (my moon)

"We will be here to catch you," said Legolas gently.

You weren't naïve. You knew what they were implying. You knew what they wanted to do-what they wanted you to do.

But at the same time, you also knew that if you said no, they would back off and continue to comfort you in the way they were doing before. Saying yes would just bring a different sort of comfort to the table.

You certainly weren't averse to the suggested advances, just a little confused at how these two of all people could want someone like you.

...Okay, so maybe you hadn't completely changed your way of thinking just yet. That was probably still going to take a while.

You took a deep breath, steeling yourself, and then reached out to Legolas, grabbing him by the collar. Yanking him closer, you pressed your lips to his firmly, feeling him smile against you.

Legolas responded to the kiss immediately and cupped your cheek to deepen it, causing you to hum in response. When you separated, you sucked in some much-needed air and then turned to Aragorn. You fisted your hands in his tunic and pulled him closer before kissing him as well.

He chuckled before he tangled his fingers in the hair at the base of your skull, tipped your head back, and deepened the kiss expertly. You moaned softly, grip on his tunic tightening.

While Legolas smelled of summer and tasted of sweet fruits, Aragorn smelled like the rain and tasted of heady mead. It was intoxicating.

They both were.

Even as you and Aragorn broke apart to catch your breath, you felt Legolas move in closer behind you. His hands landed on your shoulders before trailing down your arms. His long, slim fingers skimmed over your clothed stomach as they travelled back up, and he cupped your breasts boldly.

You moaned and arched into Aragorn, who kissed you breathless again. But it broke off abruptly as both of them rose to their feet, helping you up as well.

They undressed you now, working together to do so, and soon had you bare-a feast for their eager eyes. You flushed slightly, feeling a little embarrassed, but helped them out of their clothes as well, feeling just as eager even despite your awkward embarrassment.

Once both of them were naked too, you found that you couldn't tear your eyes away. A male body was a male body, was what you'd always thought, but even though these two were obviously male, they couldn't have been more different.

Aragorn was the taller of the two, and though lean, Legolas was the slender one. The Man was tanned, the Elf pale, and the former was covered in scars, some old some new, while the latter was flawless, skin all but glowing under the sunlight.

You loved them both.

They seemed to notice which way your thoughts were straying because they both smiled and stepped closer to you. Legolas stopped in front of you while Aragorn moved in behind you, both close enough for you to feel the heat from their bodies.

Aragorn wrapped his arms around you as Legolas kissed you. Aragorn cupped your bare breasts in his rough, calloused hands, while Legolas' softer ones moved down to grip your hips.

You moaned into Legolas' mouth as Aragorn's thumbs stroked over your nipples, which pebbled under his touch. Legolas trailed his lips down your neck, butterfly kisses lingering. You ran your own fingers down his smooth chest, arching into Aragorn's hands.

Moaning when he pinched your nipples, the sound turned into a gasp when he pressed himself flush to your skin. You could feel his large, hardened length against you.

Curious to see whether Legolas was enjoying himself just as much, you trailed your fingers down his chest and over his abdomen, smiling when you felt the muscles contract under your touch, before going even lower and curling your fingers around his erection.

Legolas groaned, teeth nipping your lower lip, then engaging you in another kiss. Pleased by the sound, you squeezed, and Legolas groaned again, hips bucking into your hand.

Aragorn trailed kisses along your shoulder, up your neck, and to your ear, his stubble tickling you as he went. "That's right, Ithil nin. Take him in your hand, just like that. You want him to feel pleasure too, don't you? Go on then, stroke him-yes, like that." He removed a hand from your breast and brought it down to the junction between your slick thighs. (my moon)

You gasped as his fingers stroked your wet flesh, hand inadvertently tightening around Legolas, who buried his face in your neck with a moan. You pumped the hard length while Aragorn focused on your core, a single finger sliding inside you, his thumb passing over your clit.

Your motions on Legolas faltered as Aragorn brought you closer to your peak. When he stopped suddenly, you released a whine before you could stop yourself, prompting two very different laughs.

"Put your claws away, Ithil nin. We merely wish to make this more comfortable for you." (my moon)

Aragorn and Legolas lowered you down onto the grass, the former remaining behind you, and the latter in front.

Legolas leaned down and latched onto a breast, taking the stiffened nipple between his teeth, one of his hands splayed across your upper back, pushing you into him.

Aragorn's focus returned to your core, a finger, and then a second, easing into you. They met no resistance-you were far too wet for that, and began pumping in a steady rhythm while he pressed scratchy kisses along your neck.

"Would you allow Legolas to taste you?" Aragorn asked in a whisper directly into your ear, thumb rubbing over your clit, causing you to shudder-though perhaps that had as much to do with his words.

"Yesss," you hissed out in reply, sure you'd gotten wetter by the mere suggestion.

Aragorn shifted around until you were reclining against his chest and between his legs. Legolas meanwhile, lowered himself down further, spreading your legs apart. He cupped your thighs to keep you in place, and you squirmed at the feel of his hot breath against your sensitive skin.

"Oh, Legolas, please!" you moaned, one of your hands coming down so your fingers could tangle in his perfect, blond hair.

Legolas smirked, and then lowered his head. He parted your folds with his tongue, tasting what you had to give immediately. His tongue dipped into you, and then he latched onto your clit and sucked.

"Fuck!" you cried out, head falling back against the one behind you. You tried to buck your hips up but remained pinned down. "Fuck, dammit, Legolas! Please!"

It was Aragorn who replied to you though, chuckling lowly into your ear. "Our friend knows some naughty words, doesn't she, Legolas?"

Legolas hummed in agreement, the vibrations only causing more pleasure for you. "Yet she is as sweet as they come," he managed to pull away long enough to say, going back to work once he had.

Aragorn pinched both of your nipples while he sucked on your pulse point, and you reached back behind you with the hand that wasn't buried in Legolas' hair. You found Aragorn's thigh and followed it up until you found his hard cock and took it in hand.

He was bigger than Legolas-broader than Legolas like he was in every other way, and you groaned as you attempted to close your fist around him. You heard his breathing stutter slightly and grinned, only to moan suddenly when Legolas slipped two of his slender fingers inside you.

While Legolas worked his fingers in and out of you, continuing to suckle your clit, you fisted Aragorn's cock, enjoying the low grunts you could hear in your ear. It was almost fascinating to hear him like this.

Your pleasure grew, and your hand froze around Aragorn as the arousal caused your brain to stop working. You were sure you were speaking, but couldn't focus enough to make out what you were actually saying.

Aragorn suddenly bit down on that always sensitive juncture between your neck and shoulder-bit down hard. The sudden pain sent a jolt of pleasure straight to your clit and you cried out as your climax hit out of nowhere.

Your head fell back against Aragorn, and your hips surged up against Legolas' face, body jerking once, then again. Legolas continued his motions, slower now, and Aragorn soothed the bite mark with gentle little kisses.

You caught your breath and sighed in bliss, feeling more relaxed than you had in years. The other two just laughed again, their voices low, their hands still on you.

"Oh, we are far from finished with you, Sadril," said Legolas, rising along your body until he was face to face with you, blue eyes glimmering and his lips still wet. (loyal one)

Aragorn's lips touched your ear. "We still have much more to offer you, if you will have it."

You understood that they were asking for permission to take this even further, and moaned softly at the implications, visions of what could come flashing through your mind and before your eyes.

"Well, Sadril?" (loyal one)

"Will you have us, Ithil nin?" (my moon)

You thought back to everything they'd done for you-to the comfort and confidence they had instilled in you when you'd accidentally, and with great embarrassment, confessed your hidden fears to them earlier.

"(Y/N)?"

"Yes."

And that one, three-letter word was all it took for them to take action.

Legolas kissed you, and you could taste yourself on his tongue. When you broke apart, he and Aragorn communicated silently for a moment, various emotions passing through their eyes, before Aragorn moved to lie on his back in the grass. Seeing where this was going, you shifted around to straddle that strong, hard body.

Wanting this just as much as he did, you didn't wait long. You were still so wet, and he was still so hard, so you took him in hand and guided him to your entrance. You both hissed as he breached you, both in pleasure.

Adjusting, you braced yourself on Aragorn's chest and lowered down until you were fully sheathed. You threw your head back and moaned. He stretched you deliciously.

Aragorn's eyes had fallen shut, and his large hands came to grip your hips as he fought not to thrust up into your tight heat. Hurting you was the last thing he wanted. The growl he emitted was audible only to Legolas, who was watching the proceedings with curious interest.

Splaying your hands out on Aragorn's chest, you began to move, rising until the head of his cock was all that remained inside you, before slamming back down-fast.

You set a quick rhythm, enjoying the stretch and slight burn that accompanied it, moaning deliriously as he filled you again and again.

Legolas simply enjoyed the sight for a moment before walking around you and stopping to stand by Aragorn's head. You saw this and reached out immediately, taking his cock in hand.

When Aragorn adjusted his grip to support you, you leaned forward to lap up the pre-come from the head of Legolas' erection before taking it past your lips and into your mouth, trying to relax your jaw as you did so.

Legolas curled his fingers in your hair, his eyelids fluttering shut, and he groaned softly at the wet heat around him, your lips stretched around him. His moan became louder when you took him in further, your hand pumping what you couldn't manage to taste.

Unable to focus on both of them at the same time, your rhythm faltered, so Aragorn took over, blunt nails digging into your hips while he fucked up into you. You moaned around Legolas, who did the same at the feel of the vibrations around him.

Getting closer to your peak, you wanted Legolas to reach his first. You reached down and took Aragorn's hand, raising it so he knew to hold you up. Once he was, you grasped Legolas' thighs, nails digging into him. Opening your mouth wider, you relaxed your jaw further, hollowed your cheeks, and took him in as far as you could without gagging.

Legolas groaned something then-something in elvish that you weren't able to understand. His hands tightened in your hair, his hips surged forward, and then he froze. You pulled back, his release coating your tongue, and were surprised that it tasted rather sweet. How strange.

Pulling himself free, Legolas dropped down to his knees and pulled you into a kiss, clearly unconcerned with tasting himself on you, his tongue coiling with yours.

You broke apart, and you were only able to suck in a single breath of much-needed air before Aragorn wrapped his arms around you and pulled you down, bringing you flush to his chest.

Still thrusting up into you, he reached up, cupped the back of your head, and pulled you into a hungry kiss, your moans melding.

You were the first to pull away, breath catching and then stuttering. So close! You were so close! You could feel your climax clawing to the surface. "Please, Aragorn, oh fuck, oh please!"

"That's right, Ithil nin, let go. Fall-fall for us." (my moon)

"We are right here to catch you, Sadril, right here." (loyal one)

It was almost as if you'd been waiting this entire time to hear those words. Your release hit instantly, your back arching and your head falling. You cried out as your body jerked once, twice, three times, four times, five-

The convulsing had your inner walls tightening around Aragorn, causing him to finally reach his own peak. His arms tightened around you and he grunted out your name as he stilled.

You moaned, feeling him fill you even as you went limp. Trembling slightly, you sighed when you felt Legolas' fingertips skimming over your back soothingly.

Aragorn relaxed his grip and pressed his lips to the crown of your head. "Feeling all right, Ithil nin?" (my moon)

"No pain?"

Their words had more than one meaning behind them, you understood. You'd felt so heavy when you had entered this clearing, but now, now you felt so...light.

You rolled over, off of Aragorn, feeling him slip out of you, and sat up so you could look at both of them. You were going to answer them honestly, you told yourself-honestly. They deserved that much, at the very least, especially after all you had done together.

"I'm...going to be okay," you told them. "It might-it might take a while, but I think I'll be fine."

Aragorn and Legolas smiled gently, eyes showing how pleased they were with your words. They reached out simultaneously, both wrapping their arms around you, sandwiching you in a tight, but gentle embrace.

"We will be here for you, Sadril." (loyal one)

"For as long as you will need us, Ithil nin." (my moon)

"...Thank you."

You'd been living in Lake-Town your entire life, and in this place, everybody knew everybody. And yet, despite this, it was surprisingly easy to keep secrets. You had both good and bad experiences when it came to this.

You had a very big, very uncomfortable secret and so far, very few people knew about it. You were always careful when it came to this secret, but there were times when you slipped up unintentionally. And unfortunately, today ended up being one of those days...

Today, you were working in the local tavern. The usual barmaid, a friend of yours, had taken ill, and since you would never say no to a bit of extra coin, like everyone else in Esgaroth, you accepted the offer to work that evening in your friend's stead.

It was busy tonight, but that was good. More patrons meant more coin after all, even for you. Who were you to stop men from wasting their money away like this?

"Give us another pint here, lassie!"

"Coming up!" You filled up a tankard and were bringing it to the customer in question when some drunk fool suddenly came into your path and bumped right into you.

The tankard tipped over, sending ale sloshing over the rim and onto the bodice of your dress and your left arm and hand, which you'd brought up in a vain attempt to straighten the tankard before it fell.

"Sorry!" the man called, not even bothering to stop.

"It's fine," you said, though you doubted he'd even heard you. "Damn," you muttered. You went back to refill the tankard with ale and took it to where it needed to go.

The man, an elderly one who continued to work hard despite his increasing age, as most around here did, frowned when you set his drink down. "You should wash up before that dries, lassie," he said kindly. "I'll have a word with the lad later-he's one of mine."

You smiled. "Thank you, sir. I'd appreciate it. Give us a shout if you need anything else." You headed back to the bar, only to find the younger barmaid, the owner's daughter, waiting for you.

"Here," she said, holding out a wet washcloth. "It's wet-water. And here's a dry one too, for after."

"Thank you, lass." Accepting the wet one, you dabbed at your bodice with it, and then your sleeves. Then, after pushing them up, you wiped both arms and hands clean, relieved because the ale had begun feeling a little sticky on your skin.

Setting the wet cloth down, you reached out to take the dry one from the girl. You blinked. "Tali? What's wrong, lass?" The girl was just standing there, staring down at something. "Tali?" You repeated. "Hello? Tali?"

Tali stared, and then blinked as if she'd suddenly been pulled out of her thoughts. "Your arm," she said, pointing.

You cocked your head, confused. "My arm? What about it?"

"Those scars..."

You froze, Tali's words finally registering in your mind. Caught off guard, you gasped and yanked your left arm away, hiding it behind your back. Your expression closed off and your jaw clenched. "I- Leave it, Tali."

"But, Miss (Y/N), those look like-!"

"She said to leave it be, Tali."

You both jumped at the sudden voice and looked up, finding a man had arrived. He stood over you, his expression hard.

"But, Mister Bard! She's been-!"

"Leave it be, Tali," Bard said again. "It has nothing to do with you."

"But-!"

"Tali!" For the first time, Bard raised his voice. Reaching out, he took your left arm, closing a hand protectively around your scarred wrist. "I'm sure (Y/N) appreciates your concern, Tali, but it isn't your business. Please keep what you've seen to yourself."

Tali finally seemed to realize that it was best for you to back off, and nodded slowly. "I'm-I'm sorry."

You'd been standing there with your head down while they spoke, but you finally looked up, smiling gently. "I really do appreciate it, Tali. Really. I just...don't like talking about it."

"Can I get another ale here, lass?"

"Aye, coming up!" Tali called without thought. Then she frowned and looked at you again. "You-you don't still..." she trailed off hesitantly, concern painted across her face.

"Tali." There was warning in Bard's tone now, hand around your wrist tightening.

"It's all right, Bard. No, Tali, not anymore."

The girl looked faintly relieved. "Good. That's-that's good."

"Get us some mead and bread here!"

"A-aye!" With a final glance down, Tali mercifully rushed off.

You sighed. When you'd taken your friend's place that night, you'd never expected that this was going to happen. Your biggest secret, out in the open once again. Hopefully, Tali would keep all of this quiet. You didn't need all of Lake-Town knowing.

Calloused fingertips gently running over your scars drew you out of your thoughts. Bard was gazing down at your wrist, eyes somewhat saddened-a sight that was more common than you wanted it to be.

"(Y/N)..."

"I'm sorry," you said immediately, mostly out of habit. You'd never forgotten how shocked and angry Bard had been when he'd first discovered what you were doing to yourself.

"Shh." Eyes locked on yours, Bard raised your arm up and brushed his lips over the scars tenderly, bringing tears to your eyes. Just as it always did.

"Bard..."

He shook his head to silence you, cupped your face in his hands, and touched his lips to yours so softly that you weren't even sure it happened.

When you looked at him again, you noticed he was still focused on your face-your eyes. He didn't look away. "Bard-" you repeated, softer this time.

He shook his head again, thumb trailing over the raised scars gently. "I'll be here."

You had no idea what you did to him. It wasn't something as simple as lust, no. It was far more important than that, though others would not agree with him, perhaps.

Aragorn sat on a large rock, watching you, hiding a smile behind the stem of his pipe.

The Fellowship was on their way to the Mines of Moria. They had attempted to take the Pass of Caradhras, but that ended in failure because of the interference of Saruman the White. Boromir wanted to go on to Gondor, but that would have taken them too close to Isengard, which was not an option right now. And so, Moria was the only choice they had left.

They'd been walking for hours and had decided to take a break. Boromir chose to continue training the halflings while they were here, since they didn't really have anything better to do anyway. The halflings, and you.

You were a strange woman from an even stranger world of the future. Aragorn had been told that you'd woken just outside the Shire a few months before, and that you had no idea how it happened. Gandalf, who'd been the one to find you, chose to help, though that resulted in you ending up a part of their Fellowship.

Lord Elrond believed it had something to do with Sauron.

Apparently, the last thing you heard before arriving in Middle earth were dark words spoken by Sauron And you had continued hearing those words, along with far more, after having woken.

It was certainly worrying, to say the least.

Looking at you though, it was impossible to tell that you were hearing the Dark Lord's voice in your mind-that Sauron was all but haunting you, and had been for all these months.

No matter what they saw or what they went through, no matter how frightened you must have been or how frightened you were, you always had a smile for them.

Even now, as you struggled to overpower Boromir, a man far larger and stronger than you with the elvish blade gifted to you by Lord Elrond, you did so with a smile on your face.

Smiling, you were always smiling, always doing what you could to make sure they remained light-hearted, to make sure they didn't panic or worry. You always tried your hardest to make sure they were smiling.

"Yay!"

The sudden exclamation of joy brought Aragorn out of his thoughts, and he found you grinning where you stood, Boromir's sword on the ground at your feet. It looked like you had finally managed to disarm him and you were clearly ecstatic about it.

Aragorn smiled from around his pipe at your obvious happiness. This was not something that could be faked. Not with the light he could see in your eyes.

"You should try fighting Strider now!" said Pippin with a large grin of his own.

Blinking, Aragorn watched as you glanced over at him somewhat cautiously. He knew you weren't frightened of him, so he wasn't sure what that expression meant.

Your smile persisted as they travelled through the deep darkness of Moria, fading only as you made a show of respect for the fallen Balin, Oin, and Ori, Gimli's kin, and friends of Gandalf.

When they were attacked, you fought bravely, encouraging the hobbits as you did so. Yet seconds later you cringed, a hand coming up to grip your head. Sauron was speaking to you again, it seemed, which worried him more than he cared to admit.

"Oh fuck you, you stupid eyeball!" you cried out even as you stabbed an enemy. "I hope you get an eyelash stuck in you!" You yanked your blade free, then you cocked your head slightly. "...You don't even have eyelashes."

Aragorn laughed lightly, spinning in place to kill the beast behind him. Somehow, even in the midst of battle, you managed to bring a smile to his face. How was it that you could do that when no one else could?

That wasn't to say he never smiled. No, you simply appeared to be the only one able to make him smile no matter the circumstances. And that was certainly one of the many things that drew him to you.

"(Y/N)."

You'd ended up near him again, and you defeated the enemy closest to you before looking up at him. "Hmm? What's wrong, Aragorn?" you asked with another one of those beautiful smiles of yours. How could you still smile right now?

Adjusting the grip on his blade, Aragorn reached out, cupping your face in his large, calloused hand. He watched you blink, confusion wiping the smile off of your face. Well, that wasn't what he wanted. So, he smiled himself, surprising you with the sudden sight.

"I love you."

"...E-eh?"

Ducking down, Aragorn pressed his lips to yours. They parted under his almost immediately as you released a muffled sound of surprise, his tongue brushing over your own briefly before pulling away.

The kiss only lingered for another second or two before he broke it to stab a beast approaching behind him.

When he heard nothing from you, Aragorn glanced at you. "Will you say nothing in return?" he asked, more with amusement than anything else.

"Do you know nothing about timing, lad!?" questioned Gimli, as he threw one of his axes over his shoulder.

"But he said he loves her!" said Sam, smashing another face in with his frying pan. He'd been near enough to hear the confession firsthand, much to his embarrassment and delight.

"Aww!" Merry and Pippin exclaimed together, shooting gooey faces at the both of you.

"Ambience is a thing that exists, Aragorn!" Boromir half scolded, beheading an enemy.

Gandalf's laugh echoed in the chamber, audible even above the din, and Legolas sighed, shaking his head in exasperation, both of them slaughtering more foes as well.

"Well, (Y/N)?" called Frodo, as he dodged around a pillar quickly.

You didn't answer at first, busy shoving your blade through another enemy's gut. Yanking your sword out once it was dead, you turned to look up at Aragorn and grinned. "I love you too!"

Despite being in the middle of a very dangerous battle, everyone reacted with sounds of joy, and you laughed cheerfully, the sound ringing through the underground room.

Aragorn smiled. Yes, you truly were the only one in Middle earth capable of making him smile no matter what.

And he loved you for it all the more.

It was a cool night a couple of days out from Bree when Kili found himself on second watch, having been woken up some time ago by Dori so he could replace him for the rest of the night watch.

He sat on a fallen log by the fire, toying with one of his arrows, looking around occasionally. While he fully understood why look out was necessary, it couldn't be denied that it was a boring event more often than not.

Though he wasn't about to tell uncle or Mister Dwalin that. They would scold him for sure! Honestly, it was probably a good thing when watches were boring.

Kili sighed softly, then glanced around at the rest of the Company. Everyone was fast asleep, many of them snoring away carelessly. He had to grin at that-no one snored like a dwarf. The Burglar was quiet though, huddled into himself. He wasn't used to this yet, that much was obvious, even to Kili.

Kili's gaze then landed on the only woman in their group-the ever mysterious (Y/N).

Nobody knew a thing about you, but in return, you knew nothing about them either. You'd told them that wizards, and elves, and hobbits, and dwarves didn't even exist where you came from. Neither did dragons, or orcs, or wargs, or goblins, or trolls.

...How strange!

But he still really liked you. You were so kind, so eager, so bright, so smart, so beautiful. He liked that you always walked at the back of the group, because it gave him so much more time to speak to you. He couldn't say he understood a lot of what you had to say, but he loved listening to you anyway.

Like the others, you too were asleep, curled on your side. He frowned slightly when he noticed you were shivering. You were cold. Unlike the others, you didn't have any sort of blanket, relying instead on your cloak. If the night air wasn't so chilly, he knew you likely would have been fine.

Quietly, Kili got to his feet, moving to his bedroll to grab his own abandoned blanket. Then he walked over to you, knelt down beside you, and carefully draped the blanket over you. He wasn't going to need it while he was on watch, and it would be of far more use here.

He tried not to make any noise, yet despite his caution, you woke immediately, eyelids slowly fluttering open.

"M-mng, Kili?" you murmured sleepily, peering up at him with tired eyes. "Did something happen?"

Kili forced himself to bite back a groan at the sound of your voice, low and thick with sleep. Heart thumping wildly in his chest, he gave you a smile. "Nothing's wrong," he assured you quickly. "You were cold," he said, gesturing at the blanket he had placed over you.

You blinked. "Oh. Thanks," you said with a smile.

Kili laughed lightly, and then returned to the log he'd been sitting on, glancing around to make sure everything was okay. When he looked over at you again, he found that you'd fallen back asleep, cuddled into the blanket.

You weren't shivering anymore. That was good...

It was once dawn broke a handful of hours later that you woke. You sat up with a yawn, then blinked when something fell off you. Looking down, you spotted a blanket. One that smelt comfortingly like cinnamon, but most definitely wasn't yours.

You blinked again, then remembered what'd happened a few hours before. Kili had given you his blanket for the night while he'd been on watch duty because he'd noticed you were cold.

How sweet of him.

You got to your feet and began to pack up like the others. Gathering the blanket, you folded it as neatly as you could and approached the one who'd lent it to you. "Kili?"

Kili turned to you so quickly he gave himself whiplash. Wincing, he rubbed the back of his neck and grinned. "Good morning, (Y/N)!" he greeted cheerfully.

"And the same to you," you said with a small smile. "Here." You passed him the folded blanket. "Thank you for letting me use it." Leaning in, you touched your lips to his cheek in a soft kiss, before pulling back.

Kili's grin widened adorably. "Any time!"

The Fellowship of the Ring was approaching Lothlorien, and even after everything that had just happened in the Mines of Moria, you were feeling increasingly apprehensive.

Lorien was your home and at this point, you'd been gone for just over three centuries. It wasn't that long for an elf, but still, time added up for all, and you weren't really sure how you felt about finally returning.

Lady Galadriel and Lord Celeborn had sent you off to Imladris for work purposes, and you'd been there until you'd ended up joining the Fellowship just the other month. But as much as you loved Rivendell, Lorien was your true home.

This was where your heart was, in more ways than one.

You were sure you were probably the first to realize you were all being watched. The Marchwarden had only improved during the time you had been gone. That was good to see, though you couldn't say you'd been expecting otherwise.

Unsurprisingly, it came as a shock to everyone but you when you all found yourselves surrounded, arrows aimed directly at your faces, the Marchwarden himself at the head of the group now threatening you.

"This dwarf breathes so loud we could have shot him in the dark."

Well, someone certainly hadn't changed. You smiled from beneath your hood at the familiar voice. It had been so long since you'd last heard it. Valar, you had missed it-missed him.

Haldir, the Marchwarden, greeted both Aragorn and Legolas by name, though he refused to allow any of you entry. It was frustrating but understandable, of course. You brought great danger with you, after all.

You simply watched as Aragorn and Haldir stepped away to argue, though you knew it would be fruitless. They were both too headstrong to come to any satisfying conclusion. Perhaps it was finally time for you to intervene. Your group would have better luck that way, you thought.

You stepped forward. "We have suffered great loss," you said softly, finally lowering your hood and revealing your face. "Will you not allow us time to gather and grieve in safety, mell nin?" (my beloved)

Haldir whipped around, wide-eyed. "(Y/N)...?" he whispered in disbelief.

You smiled. "I'm back, Haldir."

Slowly, almost cautiously, Haldir reached out and cupped your face in his large hands. "Na vedui," he murmured. "Mae tollen na mar, hervess vuin." Leaning in, he brushed his lips over yours gently. (at last, welcome home, my beloved wife)

You smiled again but didn't get the chance to speak, for Frodo cut you off inadvertently.

"Wife? You never said you were married, (Y/N)!" he said, momentarily forgetting his grief like the rest of them.

The other three hobbits, Gimli, and Boromir, who hadn't understood a word being said, all blinked in various degrees of surprise. Legolas and Aragorn, both of who already knew about it, merely looked on in amusement.

You laughed softly. "Yes, Frodo, I am married and Haldir is my dear husband. This is my home. I have not seen it or him for a long time now."

Aragorn looked to Haldir again. "Will you not allow your wife's companions to join in her joy of returning home for the first time in three centuries?" he asked with a smile that may or may not have been ever so slightly smug.

Haldir looked over each of you one at a time, really paying attention now. You were all wary, and weary, and filthy, and pained, in both body and mind. His precious wife included. He sighed, coming to a decision. "You will come with me."

The relief that passed through the Fellowship was obvious to all, and as everyone turned to follow the elves, Haldir took your hand in his own, marvelling in the warmth he hadn't even realized he had missed-had needed.

"Haldir..." you whispered softly, your eyes searching his face.

But Haldir simply raised your joined hands and kissed yours, the touch of his lips gentle and lingering. "Tolo ar nin, Aduial nin. Come home. Even if only for today." (come with me, my twilight)

Hand in hand, you and Haldir followed after the others and walked towards home.

If there was one thing you had never, ever envisioned doing in your life, it was travelling to an alternate dimension, getting roped up into helping a group of dwarves take back a mountain from a dragon, and end up locked in a cell by some really grumpy, but attractive elves.

And yet, all of this was exactly what happened! ...God, and you'd thought your life was a mess before you'd shown up here!

"You doin' all right there, lass?" asked Bofur from the cell across yours.

Sighing inaudibly, you tried your best to smile. "I'm fine, Bofur. Don't worry about me. Worry about-" you broke off and frowned.

No, it was Bilbo you needed to be concerned about. You hadn't seen your little friend since the spider attack in the forest before the elves captured you all. He'd simply vanished, which was certainly disconcerting, to say the least. Even more so because he hadn't seemed to be able to do that before, as far as you knew.

The rest of you had been locked in these stupid cells for what felt like days, and it was boring and annoying. You didn't have too much time to spare until Durin's Day, and if you didn't make it, you were going to have to wait an entire year before trying again, and all of this would have been for nothing!

"(Y/N)? Will you sing for us, please?" Ori asked suddenly and almost desperately.

You blinked in surprise, caught off guard by the sudden request. You weren't much of a singer, but Middle earth brought something out in you that your own world didn't. Or maybe it was just that everyone around here sang whether they could or not. It was the song that mattered to them, not the ability.

That didn't mean you couldn't sing or anything, though you weren't the best. You were just a little shy.

But what the heck else did you have to do in this stupid cell? So, you simply agreed and tried to think of a song you actually had memorized.

Legolas had just finished his rounds and was heading down to see those imprisoned in the cells below when a sweet voice met his ears, causing him to pause in place.

Someone was singing, but who was it?

The song was a slow one, and sounded somewhat bittersweet, happy yet sad at the same time, wistful yet sorrowful at once. And he could hear every emotion in that soft, beautiful voice. It was almost haunting.

Curious to know who this was, he continued walking, following the voice, still listening intently. It was quite surprising when he was led down to the cells. Was it one of the guards, perhaps? A single glance said the answer was no. It certainly couldn't have been any of the dwarves. So that just left...

He silently approached the cell containing the only woman in the area and found that he was right. It was you.

You were seated on the floor of the cell, your back to the wall, hair pushed behind your cute ears. Your eyes were shut, but if they had been open, Legolas could only imagine the emotions he would have seen in them.

You were beautiful, he realized suddenly. He wondered why he hadn't allowed himself to see that earlier?

Confused now, he stepped away from the bars of the cell and over to the side, where he leaned against the wall. From here he could listen to you without you realizing he was there. ...Well, as long as the dwarves stayed quiet about it.

He felt as if he could hear you sing forever.

You loved the Shire very much, but for someone as oddly curious as you, imagining you were going on adventures eventually wasn't enough for you, wasn't satisfying enough, wasn't fun enough.

This was why you were so intrigued and pleased when Gandalf the Grey arrived at Bag End to coax your older brother Bilbo into joining a group of dwarves on a quest across Middle earth.

After a fair bit of convincing, you ended up joining them all as well, much to Bilbo's concern.

You were very excited to go on this journey. At first.

Things didn't remain fun for very long, and your excitement faded somewhat, though you only became even more emotionally invested in the quest, so there was no way you were just going to give up and return home now.

And somewhere along the way, you found yourself falling in love. With a dwarf! A royal dwarf no less! And what was more, said dwarf loved you in return.

What in the world Kili Durin found appealing about you, you still didn't understand, but you were so happy to accept when he asked you if you would allow him to court you.

The two of you had been together for the last few months and as time passed, your love for him only continued to grow, just as his did for you.

You were all in Esgaroth now and Kili, who had suffered a grave injury that was slowly healing (thanks to Legolas), was getting as much rest as possible so you could leave as soon as you could. It hadn't been easy to convince Thorin to wait a few days though.

The way things were going though, you weren't going to be surprised if you would be able to leave in the next day or two...

You walked into the bedroom you knew Kili was in to tell him what Thorin had said a few minutes ago, only to find him standing by the single window, gazing outside somewhat solemnly, which certainly wasn't normal for your precious dwarf.

"Kili?" you said curiously as you walked inside the little room.

He turned as you approached, his eyes searching your face. And then suddenly, completely out of nowhere, he grabbed you around the waist and pulled you into him.

His dark hair tickled your soft cheeks, his rough scruff brushed your forehead, while his large hands pulled you yet closer, slowly but gently moving up and down your back.

"...Kili?" you said softly, unaware of why you were even whispering. Your small hands were pressed to his firm, warm chest, and you could feel his heart beating steadily under your palm.

But Kili didn't answer. He remained as he was, holding you close, enveloping you in his warmth. Despite not really understanding it, you mentally shrugged and simply allowed yourself to be held in silence.

This was comfort. This was peace.

Rivendell was always so peaceful. You'd never been anywhere like it, despite all your travels through Middle earth. You were born in a small elven village just west of the Misty Mountains centuries upon centuries ago, though that place had long since been destroyed by the enemy, its denizens either slaughtered or scattered across the map.

With both of your parents having fallen, you'd been left on your own, which was when you'd begun to travel. You'd been to Rivendell more than once, always finding yourself returning for some reason or another, and eventually, you decided to just stay in the beautiful valley forever.

And if your hidden feelings for the Lord of the Valley had anything to do with it, well, no one else needed to know about it.

It was late one night when you found yourself seated alone at the top of a tall hill, gazing up at the starlit sky. Things had been very busy recently with the Council of Elrond and the formation of the Fellowship of the Ring-which you had joined impulsively. You didn't see any reason not to, and you wanted to help protect your home. And...perhaps you wished to escape your feelings as well.

You knew those feelings were never going to be returned. Why continue to think otherwise? Why continue to hope? Why continue to delude yourself?

Deciding it would be for the best to not focus on these thoughts at present, you turned your attention back to the strangely nostalgic sight of the night sky.

Elrond was exhausted. He'd been trapped in his study for hours, and he still had so much more work to do. Sighing softly, he pushed himself away from his desk and up to his feet. Needing a break and wanting some air, he left the study and made his way outside.

It was a cool, crisp night, and he breathed the chilly air in deeply, already feeling more relaxed. He walked slowly, inclining his head at the few he passed, though he made no move to stop and speak.

He paid no mind to where he was going, allowing his feet to lead him where they willed. The only place he had no desire to be in right now was his study, after all.

Eventually, deep in the familiar forests, he found himself standing at the base of a tall hill. The top of this hill was the best place for stargazing, and with it being a clear, cloudless night, he decided it was worth the climb.

Elrond was only halfway up when he suddenly began to hear something: singing. He paused, listening. The voice was sweet and high, distinctly elvish, and familiar yet foreign at once. He didn't recognize the song, though it made him both content and saddened at the same time.

He continued climbing, needing to see who this was, needing to see who was making his heart sing and weep. Elrond paused when he came to the top of the hill, grey eyes searching, and he found who he was looking for at once.

It was you.

He'd known you for centuries, had helped you after the death of your parents, had encouraged your travels, had trained you when you had expressed an interest in battle, had healed you whenever you'd returned injured, and if he had coaxed you into settling down in Imladris for his own selfish reasons, well, no one else needed to know.

Unable to bring himself to say anything to reveal his presence, he stood where he was in silence, watching and listening. You didn't notice him and continued to sing softly, the moon and starlight shining off your (H/C) hair and (S/C) skin.

Your voice softened until Elrond was sure he was the only one who could hear you now. It almost felt as if it was a privilege. He'd never heard you sing before. At the same time, however, he felt as though he was intruding on something personal. And yet, even despite feeling that, he wasn't able to look away.

He wondered what this feeling was. It was familiar but unknown at the same time, almost as if it was something he hadn't felt for a very long time now.

No, that couldn't be possible, could it?

Elrond's eyes fell shut as your sweet voice washed over him-as that strange emotion filled him. It was odd, even for him, that he had the courage for everything else, but none to even...acknowledge this.

He sighed softly and finally, you became aware of his presence. Your singing cut off abruptly as your head snapped up, pretty (E/C) eyes widening and then softening at the sight of him.

"Lord Elrond!" you said in surprise. Then you smiled gently. "Would you not prefer to join me instead of lingering behind in the shadows alone?"

Courage, hmm?

Elrond moved across the hill and lowered himself down next to you in a swift but graceful motion. "Aduial vaer, (Y/N)," he said in greeting. (good evening)

Perhaps you would be the one he would draw courage from. Perhaps one day he would understand what all of this was.

Perhaps one day he would tell you how he truly felt.

Relieved from watch duty on the newly created wall of Erebor, you yawned and were making your way to your room when Kili, your betrothed, approached, a familiar mischievous look in his eyes. You only had the chance to blink before he took your hand and began tugging you away from the path to the bedroom chambers.

"Ki?"

"Shh!"

"What's up? Where are we going?"

Kili glanced at you from over his shoulder, grinning. "You'll see."

"...Okay?" Curious about what was going on, you allowed him to drag you through the empty stone halls of Erebor. You were never going to get over how amazing this place was.

When you reached the throne hall, you blinked and then cocked your head as Kili led you up to the massive throne where you came to a stop.

You looked around, noting there was no one else here, which really wasn't all that surprising. Everyone else was up on the wall or in the treasury, as was normal now. "Kili?"

Kili turned to you now, eyes glittering. "There's something I've been meaning to do ever since I saw that-that magnificent stone structure," he said, nodding towards the throne.

You frowned, confused. You couldn't deny the throne looked amazing, but you had no idea what he was thinking. "What is it?"

Kili grinned at you. "I want to defile it."

"...What?"

"Or rather," Kili's grin became a smirk, "defile you on it."

You blinked once more, and then groaned as heat pooled between your thighs. "Fuck, Kili. Someone's feeling bold today." You'd long since lost track of how many times you'd laid together since he'd begun courting you, but he'd never been quite so brazen before, maybe because you'd always been on the road, catching whatever moment you could, whenever you could, wherever you could.

Kili tugged you closer until you felt the heat rolling off him in waves. "Oh aye, very bold. I told you before, didn't I?" he said in a low voice, lips brushing over your own. "I would take you again, and again, and again." He kissed you once more, firmly, hungrily, and it made your toes curl in your boots. "I intend to follow through with those words."

Gripping his tunic tightly in your fists, you dragged him into you again, remembering the occasion in which he had first said those words to you, and your sudden arousal only grew. "Oh, please do," you gasped against his skin.

Kili laughed, and slid his hands between your bodies, unclasping your cloak, pulling it off, and tossing it aside. "Arms up," he instructed, yanking your tunic off your head and then undoing the bindings wrapped around your chest.

While he did this, you shoved his coat off his shoulders and tugged at his tunic until he shucked it off, leaving you both bare from the waist up. Well, at least until he all but attacked your trousers, shoving them and your underwear down, at which point you kicked them off.

Kili pushed you down onto the throne, ignoring your hiss of surprise (the throne was cold against your bare skin) before leaning over you, tipping your head back so he could kiss you again. You stretched up, wrapping your arms around his neck as you returned the kiss, your tongue coiling with his, tasting cinnamon.

"Being naughty again?"

You slowly ended the kiss before looking round curiously, watching Fili approaching the throne, his gaze passing over you both. You shrugged in unison and he laughed, finally coming to a stop.

This was hardly the first time he'd caught you going at it. He'd even joined you once, which had been absolutely delicious.

Fili reached out, dragging thick fingers through your hair, and when his thumb ran along your jaw, he looked to Kili questioningly. Despite knowing you were okay with this, he wanted his brother's permission as well as yours. It wouldn't be fair to do something like this without it.

"Yes."

Fili wasted no time and leaned down, kissing you hungrily, and you moaned, tugging at his sleeves, silently asking him to take his coat off at least. Breaking the kiss, Fili did so, stripping off his top layers while he watched his brother kiss you in front of him.

Both of them had a hand fisted in your hair as they took turns kissing you, their other hands smoothing, and pinching, and tugging at your hardening nipples. You moaned at the dual assault, hands gripping their shoulders, fingers curling into warm skin and hard muscle.

"What is this? What are you doing?"

The sudden gruff voice surprised everyone, and Fili and Kili moved apart when they looked over. Thorin was nearing the throne, apathetic blue eyes passing from his shirtless nephews, to you, who was naked and seated on his throne between them. He locked onto you, the goldlust in his eyes and mind changing to a lust of a very different kind.

"What are you doing?" he questioned again, coming to a stop in front of you three.

Fili and Kili said nothing, but you, not at all abashed or intimidated, raised a brow. "What does it look like?" You'd always been quite bold around the uncrowned king, always talking back and arguing with him. It was his fault for being so frustrating, after all.

Despite the rhetorical question, Thorin responded anyway. "It appears to me that you three are in the middle of defiling my throne."

"Well, no shit, Sherlock. Glad you figured that out." You glanced at Kili, silently posing an inquiry, and it wasn't until he gave you a minute nod that you continued. "Now, either join us or go away, 'cause we're busy and I'm starting to get cold."

For a moment there was silence, and then Thorin growled lowly, beginning to take off his majestic fur coat, and then the layers beneath. "Then allow us to warm you, (Y/N). Fili."

Fili lowered down to his knees and spread your legs as he situated himself between them. He shot you a grin, and then lowered his head.

His motions were slow, languid, lazy, and very determined. It was clear he knew how to pleasure a woman, and had done so more than once. He worked you, lapping and sucking gently, and you moaned at the feel of those mustache braids against your skin. It was so strange, and so good.

Fili brought you right up to the edge, but instead of taking you over it, he stopped and backed away, his lips shining. An involuntarily whine left you as the dwarves deliberately avoided touching your core, taking the next few moments to toy with your breasts and kiss you, waiting for your orgasm to die down again.

Once it had, it was Thorin who replaced Fili, lowering down before you. He didn't start out gently like Fili did. He licked you from bottom to top, before taking your clit between his teeth and sucking on it.

Crying out, you immediately fisted your hands in his dark hair. Thorin wasn't eating you, he was devouring you. Eru, you could see where Kili got his intense side from!

It didn't take Thorin long to begin driving you insane, his tongue in you, around you, and in you again, seemingly everywhere all at once, furthering your arousal with each passing second. Gasping and panting, you pushed him into your dripping cunt, desperate to come.

But just like that the movements stopped abruptly and Thorin pulled away from you, leaving you whining, only to have Kili drop to his knees before you, his gaze smouldering. He pushed your legs apart further and his mouth was on you instantly.

He didn't start out teasing and playful like he usually did. He buried his face into you and sucked at your clit harshly, that primal, intense side taking over immediately.

You grabbed hold of his hair and cried out as you finally came, body tightening and doubling over, before finally relaxing again a minute later.

Panting, you opened your eyes, which you hadn't even realized had fallen shut. Fighting to catch your breath, you watched all three dwarves stripping off the rest of their clothing, and groaned approvingly at the sight of three, thick, hard cocks. Gods you wanted those inside you.

His own eyes dark, the ring of blue barely visible, Thorin bent down to kiss you harshly, letting you taste yourself on his tongue.

"We are going to consume you," he said in little more than a growl, his voice rumbling deep inside his chest. "We're going to take everything you have, and fill all three of these perfect, pretty holes of yours."

He cupped your jaw, leaning in closer, eyes flashing. "We're going to fuck you until you remember nothing else, until you are filled to the brim with the seed of the line of Durin."

Pupils dilating, your breath caught in your throat and a low, desperate whine escaped you. "Yes," you gasped. "Oh, fuck, yes. Please!"

Taking you by the hand, Thorin pulled you off the throne, then nodded at Kili. "Sit."

Kili did so, taking a seat on the stone structure, and once he had, you were guided to his lap, straddling him, your chest to his.

He kissed you like a dwarf starving while he reached between you, taking his cock in hand and guiding himself to your slick entrance. You both groaned as he slid in, inch by inch until he bottomed out, but he didn't move after that, much to your frustration.

Instead, Fili set a hand on your back, gently pushing you. "Lean forward." Going through his belongings, he grabbed a small vial of oil and used it to slick his fingers, one of them circling your tighter entrance.

He took his time in stretching you, half to make sure you were fully prepared, and half to tease you into a desperate, panting, quivering, needy mess. "Ready?"

"Yesss!" you hissed. "Fuck me!"

Fili slicked up his cock, and then slowly eased into you. "Relax, relax," he said gently. He slid in deeper and deeper, until he couldn't go any further.

You threw your head back and gasped breathlessly. "Fuck, fuck, oh fuck." Fili and Kili were buried balls deep inside you, and you could feel every single thick inch of them. "Move, move!" you begged shamelessly.

They did so, setting a slow but steady rhythm that was quickly picking up the pace. Gripping Kili's shoulders tightly, your nails digging into his skin, you turned your head to look at Thorin. He was standing nearby, slowly fisting his own cock, gazing at you with heavily lidded eyes.

When he realized you were watching him, he stepped forward and grasped your jaw, thumb stroking your bottom lip. "I'm going to fuck this insolent mouth of yours, see these pretty lips stretched around my cock," he said, his voice lowering even further.

"Yes...yes...!" You reached out for him as he braced himself on the arm of the throne, guiding himself to your mouth, your tongue flicking out to taste him.

All three of the Durins were inside you now, and it took them no time at all to set a proper pace, sometimes thrusting in together at once, which had you crying out, and sometimes moving one at a time, which was beyond dizzying.

You remained as you were, not having to do much yourself, moaning incoherently around the thick cock in your mouth. The sensations were overwhelming, and like Thorin had promised, you felt completely and utterly consumed by them as they took everything you had to give, and gave back what they could in return.

Your orgasm snuck up on you, and you came hard enough that spots erupted before your eyes, and though the three Durins groaned at the sight and feel, they fucked you straight through it, chasing after their own.

Thorin came first, all but growling your name, coating your tongue with his thick, salty release, before moving back and watching as Fili and Kili only sped up, bringing you to another, even stronger orgasm.

You cried out this time, the sound echoing throughout the hall, and the young princes came together, filling you with their hot seed before Fili slipped out of you and you collapsed against Kili.

For the next few minutes, the throne hall was filled with gasps and pants as you all tried to catch your breath and regain your senses.

Thorin was the first one to gather his strength and he redressed, the lust for you fading back into a lust for gold. He passed you an appreciative glance, that somewhere deep down contained a thank you, before he walked away. Fili dressed next, and once he had, he touched his forehead to his brother's, then yours, and then he too left.

Alone now, you and Kili remained silent, still a bit out of it. Finally, you eased up off Kili, his cock slipping out of you, and he groaned at the sight of the come seeping out of you and sliding down your thighs.

This was something you most certainly had to do again while you still had the chance.

Kili stood now, knees a bit weak. "Let's get cleaned up, okay?"

You smiled, your body still feeling light and floaty, as if your blood had been replaced with champagne. "Okay!"

Yes, you definitely had to do this again. As soon as possible.

You really had no idea how this could have happened. How could you possibly have ended up in this position? How could you have found yourself with your back to a tree with Isildur's heir-the exiled but rightful king of Gondor himself kissing you absolutely breathless?

But to be fair, even if you didn't take your current position into account, your very presence in this world was an unexplained question all on its own.

One moment you'd been opening your front door, and then there was a bright light, and the next moment, you were outside in the middle of nowhere with not a single structure visible on the horizon.

Shocked and confused, you'd wandered for hours, unable to find a signal on your phone, until you finally came across a village of some sort that was filled with little people who all had strangely large hairy feet, and delicately pointed ears.

Frodo Baggins was the first to approach you, his curiosity winning out, and he took you to his home of Bag End where he lived with his uncle Bilbo, and the two explained things to you, or at least attempted to.

A week later Gandalf the Grey showed up, just as surprised by your presence as you were with his. And then Bilbo left the Shire, leaving you very confused and all alone with a saddened Frodo, though you tried to comfort him as best as you could for someone who didn't really know what was happening.

But then, not long after, the two of you learned about the One Ring, and Sauron-the Dark Lord, which certainly was a shock because, what?

All this eventually resulted in you and Frodo leaving the Shire with three other hobbits, and you all made your way to the town of Bree while being pursued by Black Riders, which only resulted in you having countless more questions.

You'd never found anything to be so stressful or tiring before in your entire life. Or as terrifying. You were glad and relieved at first when you made it to the Inn of the Prancing Pony, though those feelings faded rather quickly when you learned that Gandalf, who was to meet you there, hadn't arrived-hadn't even been seen for months. This wasn't what you'd been planning!

Praying Gandalf was merely late, you went up to your rented room, planning on a bath, which was when you first encountered Strider, the Ranger who had been watching you all downstairs.

You weren't quick to believe his words, even when he led you all out the next morning. But choice was not something you had. You didn't know how to go forward without him, going back was not an option because of those wraiths, and staying in Bree was out of the question too. It wasn't safe.

And so, follow Strider you did, continuing to do so even after the attack on Weathertop, and when that elf took a gravely injured Frodo with them. Like with pretty much everything else so far, you didn't really have much of a choice.

Rivendell was nothing like you'd been expecting, and neither was the Council you'd been given special permission to attend. Lord Elrond may have looked stern, but he was actually quite kind, much to your relief.

The contents of the Council, on the other hand, weren't the same, and it ended with you joining the Fellowship of the Ring, there to help and protect Frodo as he took the One Ring all the way to Mordor for its destruction.

The company consisted of eight others aside from you and Frodo; Sam, Merry, and Pippin were coming too, along with Gandalf, who you'd reunited with the other day. There was also a dwarf named Gimli, an elf named Legolas, and two men in Boromir of Gondor, and Aragorn-Strider who, as it turned out, was the heir of the man who had taken down Sauron a good two thousand years ago-and was the rightful king of Gondor.

...Yeah, you definitely hadn't seen that coming.

And with so many skilled people in the group, you had no idea what you had to offer, or how you could help. Still, you worked hard on the journey, eagerly taking up sword practicing like the four halflings, and offering basic knowledge from your own world in an attempt to make things even a little bit easier on them all.

You fought alongside the others with your ever-improving skill, seeking to keep the others as encouraged as possible, despite your own growing confusion and concern. You still had no idea what you were doing here. There was no sight of home for you, but at least you could try to help these people protect their own.

You went through Moria, only for Gandalf to fall, leaving the rest of you to go on without him. Though you hadn't known Gandalf like the rest of them, and hadn't been as close, or had the same connection, you still felt the great loss.

Despite this, you devoted your energy to consoling everyone else, and encouraging them all to continue on. You'd learned the enemy couldn't pursue you during the day, so if you were quick, you could put a good amount of distance between the group and them before it got dark. The last thing you wanted was for Gandalf's sacrifice to be wasted.

You were determined to help them all get to safety, even though you had no idea where you were all going in the first place.

This didn't escape the notice of a certain Ranger. A Ranger you happened to be hiding some very rapidly growing feelings for.

In Aragorn's view, there were very few members in the Fellowship who he thought had the right to complain, and one of those members was you. Middle earth wasn't even your home, and you were caught up in such a dangerous situation to save it!

And yet, if there was one thing you didn't do, it was complain.

He'd been drawn to you the moment he'd seen you in Bree, and you'd truly exceeded his expectations. You continued to impress him, no matter how much time passed or where they went or what they all did.

Even after Gandalf fell, you were the one to coax them-coax him, into action again.

After making it out of the mines, most of them collapsed in place, overcome by grief.

Boromir tried to restrain Gimli as the dwarf vented out his rage and sorrow; Merry, tears in his own eyes, consoled Pippin who was sobbing heavily; Legolas wore a look of shock and disbelief, eyes puzzled; Sam was seated on the ground, head lowered as he cried into his hands; and Frodo stood alone upon the hillside, his shoulders shaking.

Aragorn himself had lowered down to a large, flat rock, though he had no memory of doing so, his eyes wide but unseeing.

"Aragorn?" When he didn't react, you reached out and cupped his face. "Aragorn," you repeated. "Look at me."

Slowly, his eyes rose to meet yours, though he said nothing, unable to bring himself to speak.

"We have to leave, Aragorn," you said in a firm but gentle tone. "We can't stay here any longer. We're too close to the mines and night will fall soon." You stroked your thumbs over his cheekbones. "Now is not the time to grieve. Gandalf put his trust in you to lead us away from here-lead Frodo away from here." And you leaned in, pressing your lips to his brow. "You need to stay focused."

Aragorn stared at you for a second before inclining his head, clarity returning to his eyes as his respect for you only grew further. As he stood and wiped his sword clean, he watched you gently coax the others to their feet, brushing away tears and encouraging them to continue moving...

Aragorn didn't reach his limit until Lorien. They were welcomed by the Lord and Lady of Light, and had the chance to bathe and don fresh clothes, much to everyone's relief.

You went to each of them separately, simply wishing to see how they were all faring. And even though he'd moved away and into a more secluded area, you came to him regardless, clearly determined to see to him as well, just like the others.

And whether it was fortunate or not, it was only then that Aragorn felt himself lose his ridged sense of control.

You had no idea how this happened. One moment you and Aragorn were standing and talking, and the next he had you against a tree, his slightly rough, chapped lips on yours in a kiss so intense it left you breathless in seconds.

After the shock wore off, you moaned, grabbed Aragorn by the tunic, and yanked him closer, silently begging for more. You felt him smile against your lips before his tongue came forward to toy and coil with your own, tasting of heady mead.

"You undo me," he murmured against your skin, pressing whiskery kisses across your cheeks, down to your jaw, and along your neck.

It was a very different, very welcoming feeling, and you reached up to tangle your fingers in his hair, bringing him even closer. Aragorn's hands moved down to grip your hips and oh!-you could feel him now, hard against you, body exuding heat. You moaned again, wishing you could feel skin.

Almost as if he heard your thoughts, Aragorn stepped back and quickly shucked off his tunic. You stared at the tanned skin over muscle, the many scars, both old and new, and the very painful looking bruises. He must have gotten the latter of those from that cave troll back in the mines. How had he not broken any ribs?

Perhaps noticing which way your thoughts were straying and not liking it, Aragorn grabbed hold of both of your hands and brought them up to his chest, over his heart. The grey of his eyes was barely visible as he gazed down at you heatedly.

"Touch me, Ithil nin." It wasn't a demand, or even a request. In fact, it sounded more like a plea. (my moon)

Still, when he released your hands, you ran them down and then back up his chest, feeling those strong muscles contract under your touch, bringing a pleased smile to your face.

You ran your thumbs over his nipples, feeling them harden, and pinched one, causing him to hiss in surprise. Grinning mischievously, you did it again before raking your nails down his chest. Gently, of course. You certainly didn't want to hurt him.

Much.

Again, as if hearing your thoughts, Aragorn laughed lowly, though he made no move to stop your motions. It was clear he was curious to see what you would do, and didn't seem to be bothered with allowing you to have your way for the time being.

You certainly didn't mind, that was for sure. You ran your fingers over a few of his scars, causing a little shudder to run through him, before you paused at the bruises.

You frowned and looked up at him in concern. "Is it okay for you to be doing this?" you asked worriedly. "You're still hurt, and these look pretty bad."

Bringing his large hand up to cover yours, Aragorn smiled down at you gently. "You continue to touch me with your concern, Ithil nin." Releasing one of your hands, he ran his thumb along your bottom lip. "Have you even worried for yourself yet? You too were injured in the mines." (my moon)

"Well, yes, but not as bad as you. I don't want to hurt you."

Aragorn laughed, amused. "You won't hurt me, (Y/N)."

"Hmm, I don't buy that-" you said, poking one of the bruises and seeing him wince slightly. Still, you ran your hands back up that firm chest and wrapped your arms around his neck, kissing him. "-but if you aren't seeing any issues here, then who am I to complain?"

Aragorn gifted you with a rare grin, even as his hands snaked downward. "Indeed. Now, you appear overdressed, meleth."

"Meleth?" you repeated in confusion as you carefully stripped out of your borrowed dress.

"Love," Aragorn translated, cupping your bare breasts in his calloused hands.

"Love. Oh, I think I like the sound of that." You arched into his touch, humming as he kneaded you and releasing a sharp gasp when he suddenly pinched both of your nipples.

"Revenge is sweet, isn't it, meleth nin?" (my love)

"Wouldn't call it tha-ah!" You broke off abruptly when Aragorn lowered down in front of you, hot mouth closing around one of the buds. "Oh, I think I just changed my mind," you gasped. "Revenge is-is definitely sweet!"

Aragorn laughed around you, the fingers belonging to his free hand trailing down your body until they came between your thighs, finding wet flesh. He stroked you once, twice, thrice, and then sank a long finger inside you.

You moaned, reaching down and tangling your fingers in Aragorn's dark hair as he started fucking you with that single finger. But it wasn't enough. Not even close.

Fighting against your pleasure, you pushed against him and shoved him away, unable to stop the whine that left you when his finger slipped out of you.

"(Y/N)? Did I hurt you?"

"No." You tugged at the laces of his trousers. "Take these off."

With an amused smile, Aragorn did as told and only blinked when he was manhandled until he was sitting up against a tree. You situated yourself on his lap, shifting to straddle him. You took his hands, brought them to your waist, wrapped your arms around his neck, and kissed him enthusiastically.

You ground down against the hard length beneath you and Aragorn broke the kiss with a groan. Hands lowering to your hips, Aragorn encouraged your movements, trailing whiskery kisses along your neck.

Still not satisfied, you reached down, fingers curling around the thick erection. While Aragorn nibbled on that always sensitive junction on your neck, you positioned yourself and then lowered with a gasp. A gasp that abruptly became a cry when Aragorn bit down on that same junction, teeth sinking into your skin harshly.

The jolt of pain sent pleasure coursing through you, your walls clenching around the thick cock inside you. "Ah!" you gasped, throwing your head back.

But for the second time that day, Aragorn lost hold of the reins he usually had on his control. He tightened his hold on you and with a single, simple movement, pushed you down, gently setting you on the grass, his cock never leaving you.

You wrapped your legs around his waist and moaned as he slid in even deeper, stretching and filling you more than anyone before.

Hands on either side of you, Aragorn braced himself above you and began to thrust, pace rough and quick, sweat sliding down his neck. You gasped loudly, back arching, hands gripping your lover's wrists.

"Fuck! Aragorn!"

His eyes flashed. "Do you like this?" he said, voice thick and deeper than usual. "Do you like having me buried in you like this? Feeling every precious inch of you?"

"Yes!" you whined, raking your nails down his long back, bucking your hips in an attempt to find more friction. You should have been more worried about keeping your voice down lest someone find or overhear them, but you couldn't bring yourself to care.

Aragorn lowered his head, peppering kisses on your skin as he sped up, unable to look away from your face-your eyes. He had never felt so strongly about anyone before. It was almost frightening.

"Aragorn! Aragorn, please!"

No one else made him feel this way by simply saying his name. Why were you able to do this to him? How were you able to do this to him?

You moaned when Aragorn straightened up, changing the angle of his thrusts. Balancing himself, he grasped your hips in his large, calloused hands and began pulling you along his cock roughly.

You cried out at the sudden force, hands never staying in one spot as you struggled to find something to grasp. Eventually, you settled on grabbing fistfuls of grass. Pleasure more intense than anything you'd felt before, your mind began to fog over.

"Touch yourself, (Y/N)," said Aragorn suddenly, eyes locked on your face. "Pleasure yourself for me. Let me see you. Let me feel you. Please-"

You wanted to tell him there was no need, that you were already so close to your peak. But since you couldn't get yourself to speak, you merely did as told.

You released a handful of grass and trailed your fingers down your body. Your nails scraped over the Aragorn's cock as he fucked back into you and you smiled at the sharp hiss that left him at the sudden bite of pain.

Finding your clit, you rubbed it hard, another moan slipping past your lips, hearing Aragorn groan as your walls clenched around him reflexively just a moment later.

"Come now," he said hoarsely. "Come for me, meleth nin." (my love)

"A-Aragorn!" The name began as a whisper and ended in a cry. You grabbed his wrists while he fucked you through your orgasm, your body jerking as you gasped breathlessly. You squeezed your muscles around him, trying to coax him into coming too, as desperate to feel him as he was you.

A final thrust and Aragorn froze in place, eyes falling shut and jaw clenching as you felt his cock pulse inside you. And then he slumped over, collapsing on top of you, and you released a surprised grunt at the sudden weight on top of you.

You brought your arms around him, fingers slowly gliding over sweat-slicked skin. When he didn't move, you blinked. "Aragorn? Are you okay? Did you aggravate your injuries?" you asked worriedly.

Upon hearing the concerned words, Aragorn huffed out a light laugh. Slowly, he raised himself up, braced on his hands. His eyes found yours immediately, keen grey filled with an emotion you wasn't able to decipher. Shifting his weight to a single hand, he cupped your cheek with the other one, thumb gently stroking the soft skin.

"You undo me, meleth," he said again, voice soft yet firm, and filled with an emotion that matched his eyes. "Undo me like no one else." (love)

You blinked. "Is, uh, is that good or bad?" you asked him somewhat hesitantly.

Aragorn laughed lowly. "Both, perhaps," he said, touching his lips to yours softly. "You are far too good for me, Ithil nin." (my moon)

You laughed. "Coming from the rightful king of Gondor?"

Unsure how to answer that, Aragorn lowered his forehead to yours. The future was not something he wanted to think about at the moment.

But you had already picked up on his hesitation and reluctance when it came to the matter of his heritage. You tightened your hold on him, hugging him close to you. "It'll be okay," you assured him gently. "Everything will work out in the end. You'll see. Estel." (hope)

Aragorn blinked in surprise, and then smiled. He kissed you again, gentle and chaste. "Estel," he repeated. "Yes, there is always hope." Even if that means you will leave us all in the end...

Today was a good day in Esgaroth. It was time for the yearly summer festival, the only one they had in this place. It was the only day of the year the Master actually allowed the town to use the resources given to them all by King Thranduil and his Woodland Realm...not that anyone ever actually said anything about it. Most were too apprehensive, aware they would be punished if they even tried.

You wandered the large open area, a smile on your face. There were stalls covered in clothing, trinkets, and food for sale, everyone desperate to make a little coin. You couldn't blame them. Coin wasn't the easiest thing to come around here in Lake-Town.

Weaving around laughing, running children, you approached one of the stalls, this one lined with different types of berries. Hmm, which kind did you feel like eating today?

"You should give the blackberries a try," said the older woman standing behind the stall. "The batch turned out surprisingly sweet this time around."

"Really?" you said with a raised brow. You couldn't deny the blackberries looked especially delicious today. "Yes, I think I will."

The older woman grinned. "Nice choice, lass."

Paying, you picked up the small basket and resumed walking. Side-stepping another child, you chose a plump-looking berry from the top of the pile and bit into it.

A surprising amount of juice escaped, trickling down your chin. You wiped it off, and then absently ran the inside of the berry over your lips, coating them like a balm and painting them a little darker than usual.

"Miss (Y/N)!"

You turned in place and smiled down at the child who had run up to you. "Hello, Tilda. Having fun?"

The girl grinned cheerfully, beaming with innocence. "Yes! Lots!"

"That's good. Where are your brother and sister?"

"Getting food." Tilda set a hand over her stomach and pouted slightly. "I'm hungry."

You laughed, picked a couple of berries out of the basket, and then handed said basket to the little girl. "Here, eat these."

Tilda stared up at you with wide eyes that were filled with both awe and surprise. "Are you sure?" They didn't get fruits very much. They cost too much coin.

You smiled gently. "Of course. Just make sure you share them with Bain and Sigrid as well, okay?"

"Yes, Miss (Y/N)! Thank you!" And with that, Tilda ran off, presumably to look for her older siblings.

Your smile softened. You had a weak spot for those three children, and their father too. You'd been good friends with the man's wife, and had done your best to help the family when the woman had died, wanting to see them all safe, healthy, and content.

Years later, you and Bard had ended up getting together. The children were quite pleased, especially after they'd seen how happy their Da was. They liked that. You didn't live with them though. Not yet.

"(Y/N)?"

You blinked, then turned and smiled. "Hello, Bard. I didn't think you'd make it."

Bard returned the smile. "We were able to finish earlier than expected. We were all looking forward to the festival, so there were no complaints."

"That's good. The children will be happy to have you here with them."

"Aye, I'm sure they will." Bard smiled, then lowered his head to kiss you. He pulled back abruptly, blinked, then dove in again, kissing you firmly.

You were the one to blink now, surprised by the sudden onslaught. Where had this intensity come from? When you heard a giggle from nearby, you felt your cheeks heat, remembering where you were.

Setting your hands on Bard's chest, you pushed him. "Bard! There are people watching!" you hissed.

But Bard didn't seem inclined to stop. He cupped your face in his large, rough hands, and kissed you yet again, tongue running over your lips.

Again and again he kissed you, and despite your embarrassment, you couldn't bring yourself to stop him. Your knees grew weak and you fisted his tunic, returning the eager kisses as best as you could, moaning softly.

It was the sudden giggling in a familiar voice that drew the two of you apart. You looked over and spotted Bard's children standing nearby. Sigrid looked smug, Bain looked amused, and Tilda giggled again.

You blinked at the sight of them, dropped your head to the man's chest, and then groaned. Bard, however, merely laughed and leaned into you again, speaking in your ear, a strong arm around your waist, holding you against him.

"Come to me tonight," he whispered, his breath hot against your ear. "The children won't be home."

You groaned again but nodded somewhat breathlessly and gave him a little shove, pushing him towards his kids, and Bard laughed again before all four waved at you and began to walk away.

Forcing away the flush in your cheeks, visible to anyone or not, you went on wandering as well, amazed the couple of blackberries still in your hand hadn't been crushed yet. You bit into one of them before running the inside over your lips again, coating them once more since Bard had licked off the juice that had been there before...

The day passed peacefully and eventually, night fell. Curious and eager, you made your way over to Bard's home. Since he'd said the children wouldn't be there, you assumed the kind, elderly couple from down the way were looking after them. You were going to be alone, and that meant-

"You're late."

Smiling, you stepped into the house. "I can't be late if we never agreed on a time."

Bard chuckled and pressed you into the now-closed door. Running the back of his fingers down your cheek, he leaned into you. "You're too tempting, love."

"Am I?"

"Oh yes." He touched his lips to yours, pulled back, licked his own, and muttered, "Very tempting," he kissed you again, "and very sweet."

Now, you understood. It seemed Bard liked blackberries quite a bit. Perhaps I should use their juice as a balm more often, you mused, returning each quickly intensifying kiss. You reached up to tangle your fingers in his dark hair, parting your lips, tongue coiling with his, breaths mingling.

Bard's large hands skimmed down your clothed body, lingering at your waist before slipping up under the hem of your shirt. He met the skin of your abdomen and, unable to stop yourself, you gasped sharply.

Bard froze immediately. His eyes darkened with a pained emotion and he pulled away from you, taking a step back as his hands balled into fists at his sides. The happiness and lust that had been there barely a moment ago had all but vanished from sight.

"Bard?" you said in confusion and concern. "What's wrong?"

"I'm...sorry," he said softly, eyes on the ground.

You blinked. "Sorry?" you repeated, baffled. "Whatever for? You've done nothing wrong."

"...My hands."

"Your...hands?" The murmured response hadn't done anything but increase your confusion. "What about your hands?"

Bard didn't say anything at first, merely stood there, staring at the floor. Finally- "You gasped when I touched your skin. I-I understand. My hands are rough and calloused. They're unbefitting to touch your beautiful, soft skin."

You stared, mind attempting to process what you'd just heard. You'd already noticed that he generally refrained from touching your bare skin when he could. You hadn't even lain together yet despite the years you'd known one another for. Was this...was this why?

Slowly, you reached out, taking Bard's large hands into yours. "Bard, I didn't gasp because I was upset or disgusted."

He looked at you in confusion. "But then, why...?"

Smiling, you brought his hands up under your shirt, setting them onto your abdomen again. "Bard, I gasped because I love the way your hands feel on my skin-on me."

Bard seemed quite surprised, and blinked slowly. "(Y/N)..."

"Touch me," you pleaded. "Touch me, my love."

Now, Bard smiled, evidently relieved by your words. Sliding his hands up your body, he leaned in to kiss you, the happiness and lust returning to his eyes, glad his fear was unfounded, glad you paid no mind.

Glad he had you.

If there was one thing every member of the Company of Thorin Oakenshield could agree on, it was that you were a great mystery.

No one had any idea where you had come from, or why, or how. No one knew how long you were going to be here, or how you were going to go back, if you ever even could. No one knew what exactly you'd been wearing when you'd arrived. And no one understood half of what you had to say, but your world certainly sounded like a very strange place to them.

But after travelling together for so long, they liked to think they knew you pretty well by now. Thorin, however, was about to be the first to realize that they were absolutely wrong.

The Company had come to a stop and set up camp near a river for the night. Unlike the others, you declined the offer to bathe before dinner and instead waited until the others were asleep before heading down to the river yourself.

With Balin on watch, you knew you would be left alone. He knew to respect your privacy and wasn't going to disturb you unless absolutely necessary. And being alone was something you desperately needed right now, although you would be the first to tell them what a horrible idea it was.

You'd been scolded again today, unsurprisingly. It didn't appear as if Thorin could go more than two days without getting mad at you. He got angry with you more than he did with Bilbo! And that was definitely saying something.

But you had a problem that Bilbo didn't. You were a self-harmer. You'd been suffering from depression and anxiety for some years now and had, eventually, reached a point where your usual non-dangerous coping methods had stopped working. And that was when you'd begun using one of the worst coping methods in existence.

You knew it was stupid. You knew it was dangerous. You knew it was wrong. But it worked, and that was all that mattered to you.

And hurting yourself was how you dealt with Middle earth, with this journey, with the battles, with Thorin. You knew this wasn't the right way to go about it, but you couldn't stop. You were finally beginning to realize that this was becoming an addiction, and that revelation didn't help the situation at all. All it did was make things worse, actually.

So you sat there at the riverside, making no move to bathe. You'd removed your cloak and rolled up your sleeve, gripping a bloody-tipped dagger as you stared down at your freshly wounded wrist, vision blurred with tears that wouldn't fall.

Knowing how wrong this was only made you feel worse. But you were so lost in your thoughts and whirling emotions that you didn't hear the footsteps until it was already far too late.

"What are you doing!?"

You jumped, dagger falling from your grasp, your head snapping up as you gasped in shock, caught off guard by the sudden cry. Before you knew it, Thorin was on his knees before you, grabbing hold of your hand and staring at your injured arm.

You watched, fascinated by the expressions that passed over Thorin's usually stoic face: shock, recognition, horror, pain. And then his eyes were on yours, so blue, so bright, so deep. He didn't blink, even as your own breath caught and stuttered, tears pooling in your eyes again. You couldn't look away.

"Why?" His voice was so soft-barely audible, and yet, you flinched as if he'd yelled at you instead, perhaps wishing he had yelled at you instead.

You managed to tear your gaze away and looked down at your lap, feeling more than a little ashamed at yourself. Why did you have to be so weak!? "I...I-I'm sorry," you finally managed to stutter out, your voice hoarse due to the tightness in your throat.

"Sorry!?"

You flinched again, tears blinding you. What else did he expect you to say!? You hardly knew how to explain this to yourself, let alone anyone else!

"Why?" he said again.

You could feel his eyes on you, weighing, assessing. "I..." How were you going to answer this? "I-I can't- I don't-" Even if you could answer him, did you even want to?

Thorin seemed to realize that though. "How long?" he asked instead.

"Nearly...nearly three years."

Thorin inhaled sharply, his hand tightening around yours. He focused closer on your arm and quickly realized this was hardly the first time you'd done this to yourself, not just in general, but here in Middle earth as well.

Some of the scars looked fresher than others, some darker, some lighter, each one a neat straight line across your skin. He could tell by the scars that the cuts had been fairly shallow, even the slightly deeper ones. They wouldn't have bled much, likely not more than a moment or two, and he doubted they would have taken more than a couple of days to scab over completely.

The new wounds had already stopped bleeding and were beginning to dry out. These ones were fairly shallow as well, but infections were always a possibility and he wanted to be sure to prevent that.

You started when you felt Thorin's rough, calloused fingers lifting your chin, before he gently wiped the tears you hadn't even realized had finally fallen. His eyes were on yours again, filled with a deep sadness that only had your throat closing again.

"I will not tell you to stop," he said slowly, his voice low and thick with emotion. "I know you won't listen to me-you never do. But if you ever feel...upset enough to do this again, come to me-to any of us, and allow us to distract you or calm you down-allow us to do whatever we can to help you."

"Thorin..." You didn't know what to say-didn't know what to think.

He leaned in closer and cupped your face, calloused thumb stroking your cheek gently. "And if I ever do something, or say something to make you feel this way again, then come to me, and hurt me instead."

Your eyes widened in shock. "What? No! I-I couldn't-!"

But Thorin shook his head firmly. "No, I would deserve it for causing you to stain your skin because of me."

A sob left you as you began to cry again, your entire body trembling. "Thorin... I'm sorry! I-I'm so sorry!"

Thorin drew you into a tight embrace, his own eyes squeezed shut, his jaw clenched. "No more secrecy. I share your burdens now, ghivashel. Come now, let me clean and bind these wounds. You cannot risk an infection out here." (treasure of all treasures)

"...Okay." And feeling lighter than you had in years, you allowed Thorin to lead you back to camp, his warm, rough hand holding your own with a steadying comfort you'd never even known you needed.

"No more tears, (Y/N). You have me now."

You loved Rivendell. You'd only been in Middle earth for a few months now, though you still had no idea how or why it'd happened. Still, you'd gotten used to this world surprisingly quickly.

You'd been in the Shire, and left with the four hobbits, eventually encountering Strider and finding yourself in this beautiful valley. You'd been here for nearly two months now.

You were fast asleep that morning and were, regretfully, dragged out of bed by two very excited hobbits. Merry and Pippin grabbed hold of your hands and quite literally tugged you all the way outside.

"Whaaaat?" you questioned tiredly, your eyes still half shut because of the brightness.

"Look, (Y/N)! It's snowing!"

You blinked a few times to clear your vision and once you were actually able to open your eyes, looked up, only to realize that yes, it was indeed snowing. "Oh. Nice. Going back to bed now."

"But, (Y/N)! Snow! Snow!"

You blinked. "Why are you guys so excited? It's just snow. It's the first day of winter, and it's fairly chilly out, and I think we're up north enough-of course it'll snow."

"They are excited because it does not snow in Imladris," said Aragorn, who'd apparently been standing nearby with Legolas, both of them also watching the snowfall curiously.

"It doesn't?"

"It has never once snowed here, henig," said Lord Elrond approaching, his eyes too on the sky. Though he appeared more cautious than anything else. "Not until today." (child)

"...Ah. Huh." Now you too focused your gaze on the sky. Did it not snow here because of geography or some other reason? So, if it wasn't weather related...was Sauron the reason why it was snowing? But how was that possible?

The snowfall seemed normal, the flakes large and fluffy, and falling straight down for the most part. It was still very pretty though. Now that your tiredness was fading, you were finally beginning to appreciate the sight.

You weren't the only one enjoying it though. All around you elves, hobbits, dwarves, men, and Gandalf stood gazing up at the sky, most of them smiling.

No one really knew if this was good or bad, but it couldn't be denied that Rivendell felt more peaceful than ever.

The Company of Thorin Oakenshield had stopped in Rivendell, much to the displeasure of thirteen dwarves, the pleasure of one hobbit, and your immense relief. You still didn't understand what was happening here.

You weren't sure how walking to the convenience store had resulted in you ending up in Middle earth, but you saw no point in questioning things anymore.

Gandalf had promised you he would look into things for you, and since you had no answers yourself, you figured it would be best to just leave things to him, even though you really didn't know how learning the truth was possible in these circumstances.

It was a cloudy day and by late afternoon it began to rain. The dwarves and Bilbo all ran for cover, but before you could do the same, Kili took you by the wrist and pulled you back out towards him.

Surprised, you stood there for a moment, tipping your head back so the cool drops fell onto your face. It felt nice. You hadn't been able to enjoy the rain when you'd all been travelling, what with all the grumbling by the other members of the Company.

You had no idea how long you stood there for, lost in thought, but you were pulled out of them when you suddenly felt a presence behind you.

Lowering your head, you turned around only to see Kili standing there. You'd forgotten about him. When he held out his hand, you took it, despite your confusion. He folded your fingers together and brought his other hand to your waist.

"Dance with me?" he said, brown eyes tender and voice soft.

You tried not to shiver at the tone of his voice, and set your free hand on his shoulder. "Okay," you agreed amiably, unable to deny him. He was your weakness, this dwarf-had been since the moment you'd first seen him.

Kili smiled and began to move to the music only he could hear, bringing you with him and keeping the pace slow. You followed his lead, oddly alright with dancing for once in your life.

It took only moments for both of you to become completely soaked through from the rain, and you weren't going to be surprised if you got sick, but you found that you didn't care. You and Kili just continued to revolve around the same spot, the warmth coming off him warding off the chill of the rain and wind.

When you looked back up after glancing at your feet (a bad habit you'd yet to break), you felt your breath catch.

Even though his bangs were dripping wet and plastered to his forehead, Kili didn't seem at all annoyed by them. His eyes were locked on you, and the way he was looking at you... His eyes were so soft, so tender, so full of love.

"Kili..."

Something flashed in his eyes, flashed so quick you had no time to figure out what it was. He released your hand, which you absently set on his chest, and cupped your face gently. He said absolutely nothing.

Slowly, Kili leaned in and touched his lips to yours. You groaned, your eyes falling shut as you returned the sweet kiss, your fingers tangling in Kili's tunic.

Kili kissed you again, and again, and again, each one soft and chaste, every touch of him warm, heating you from the inside even as the cold rain continued to fall around you steadily.

You didn't know how this had happened, how you'd gone from playfully dancing in the rain, to this...passion, but thinking about it wasn't going to help, was it? Suddenly, you felt Kili smile and opened your eyes, only to see that he was watching you.

"What?"

He pressed his forehead to yours, but his smile remained in place. "You're thinking too loudly. Again."

You huffed out a breath, wrapping both arms around his neck, fingers sinking into soft, brown hair. "Then what do you suggest I do instead?" you said softly.

"Accept it," said Kili just as quietly, stroking your cheek. "Accept what's happened. Accept where you are. Accept me, (Y/N)."

And the funny thing was, it wasn't really all that hard to do. You still missed your own world-your home, your family, your friends, your things, but you were getting the feeling you weren't ever going to get the chance to go back, no matter how much you wanted to.

Denial was going to get you nowhere. This place, Middle earth, was your home now. You were going to have to make it your home.

"(Y/N)..."

"Okay."

Kili blinked. "Okay?"

You smiled. "I'll accept it. Accept this. Accept you."

"You will?" And when you nodded, he grinned happily, cupped your face again, and kissed you once more, his lips soft and warm. "You'll be happy here, (Y/N). I promise it."

After a long day of walking, the Company finally came to a stop for the night. That relief only increased when you realized you were near a stream. There was some brush for cover, so it was the perfect place for you all to wash up-finally!

While the dwarves and Bilbo sat around the fire, Bombur cooking up some stew for dinner, they wondered why you were taking so long at the stream.

You'd been fine when you'd woken that morning, before suddenly becoming irritated around noon and running off for a few moments. You didn't tell them what was wrong once you caught back up, but had been oddly quiet ever since.

Most of them had been and still were a little worried, having caught what appeared to be a pained grimace on your face more than once throughout the day. But you denied anything was wrong whenever they asked...

They were all quite relieved when you finally returned to camp. You paused, surprised to see your bedroll had been set up, and quietly thanked them before you sat down, an arm wrapped around yourself.

"(Y/N)? Are you all right?" said Bilbo suddenly, looking concerned. "You seem like you're in pain again."

"I'm fine," you said automatically. "It's nothing."

Bofur sighed. "I wish you'd stop lying, lass. It's clear something's paining you."

But you just rolled your eyes, feeling a bit aggravated, even though no one had really done anything wrong. "I'm not lying," you said. "Yes, I'm in pain, but it isn't anything I don't deal with every month. You really don't have to worry about it." You didn't want to elaborate beyond that. Awkward much?

While confusion grew on most faces, Oin's lightened with realization and he gave you a sympathetic smile. Gloin and Bombur seemed to be the next ones to understand, soon followed by Thorin, after Balin whispered something to him that had him paling slightly.

You didn't notice though. Your pain worsened and you lowered down onto your side on the bedroll, the heel of your hand digging into you in a rather rough massage of sorts. It eased the pain a little, but not enough to really make much of a difference.

The Company's concern only grew when they saw your eyes shut tight and your brow pinch. It was obvious to them that you were really hurting, but...what could they do? There were methods they would have been able to use had they been in a town, but being on the road like this eliminated most everything.

When you released a dry sob, curling in on yourself further, the others seemed to come to a decision. Bombur made some tea, while Fili and Kili moved in close on either side of you.

They brushed your hair back soothingly and rubbed your shoulders, and while Ori gave you the tea, Dori telling you to sit up and drink it, Bofur began telling a funny and rather filthy story, soon followed by Nori, and then Dwalin.

You drank as you listened to them, trying not to spill your tea or choke as your body shook with laughter, Fili and Kili falling all over you as they laughed cheerfully too.

The Company may not have been able to rid you of your pain, but at least they could try their best to distract you from it.

Another long, gruelling day had gone by, and the Company had finally settled down for the night. A fire had been started, dinner cooked and consumed, and after a bit of chatter, Nori was tasked with first watch.

Your bedroll was set up next to Dwalin's tonight which was, admittedly, a little nerve-racking, because the large warrior had always been rather gruff with you. You weren't afraid of him per se, he just made you a tad nervous-as he no doubt would make most feel.

Still, you sat next to him silently as he cleaned and sharpened his throwing axes, thick but skilled fingers moving diligently over the sharp blades. As he kept working, you found yourself beginning to relax, the steady sound so strangely comforting that it slowly started to lull you to sleep.

When you woke at dawn, you were surprised to find that you were very warm, rather than cold, as you found was normal with you. It wasn't until you opened your eyes that you realized why exactly that was.

Dwalin was fast asleep beside you, his strong arms wrapped around you. It seemed you'd fallen asleep against him last night, but instead of pushing you away or moving you aside, he'd simply brought his arms around you, keeping you close to him.

It was odd, you thought, to have such a large, stoic, gruff dwarf all but cuddling you like this. You'd barely exchanged a handful of words yet, so this, admittedly, was very strange indeed. Though you couldn't say it was unpleasant.

"...Stop thinkin' so loudly, lass."

You started, the low voice catching you off guard. "Wha-?"

Dwalin opened his eyes now, which locked onto you immediately, looking tired but somewhat amused. He made no move to release you from his grasp. "There's time before we leave, and I want more sleep. Do yeh object?"

You blinked, and then shook your head, wondering why in the world he was asking you that. "No?"

Dwalin smiled, just slightly. "Good." He tightened his hold on you, closed his eyes and, seconds later, was fast asleep once again.

You just stared at first, surprised, and then huffed out a laugh as you allowed yourself to relax. With some hesitancy, you carefully and curiously ran your fingers down Dwalin's cheek, and into his beard, moving in closer, loving the heat he was giving off. Who needed a blanket when this dwarf was holding you?

"Stop movin', lass. Sleep."

You smiled, allowing your eyes to fall shut. In the safe space of Dwalin's arms, it took you barely a moment to fall asleep once more...

When Elrond learned from his daughter that Aragorn was on his way with four others, he wasn't quite sure what he was expecting. He knew there would be more hobbits, Arwen had mentioned as much, but somehow, she didn't really mention you.

He had already seen to his daughter's safety, and healed Frodo as well before the rest of them arrived. Having already been notified by the elves keeping guard, he met with them all almost immediately.

He saw Aragorn first, the man in front, leading the others. The hobbits were next, three of them, all looking around in awe, though they were clearly exhausted. And at the rear was a sight somehow even more unexpected than the hobbits: you.

The sunlight shined off your (H/C) hair, your (E/C) eyes filled with curiosity as you took in your surroundings, a small smile touching your lips as you saw the expressions on the faces of the hobbits. Still you, like the others, were obviously exhausted from the long and difficult travel.

He approached you all now, greeting Aragorn first, and then the four guests, assuring you all that Frodo was safe, healing, and asleep. He watched as you were guided away so you could bathe, eat, and rest, and wondered why your face refused to leave his mind...

The days went by. Frodo woke and a Council was held to determine the ultimate fate of Middle earth. But Elrond found that he was not altogether satisfied by what took place there.

The Fellowship of the Ring had been named, the ten brave ones who were willing to travel all the way to Mordor to destroy the Ring. Four hobbits, two men, an elf, a dwarf, a wizard, and you. You had joined as well, and your opinion refused to be swayed. It seemed no matter what anyone said, you were set on going.

Elrond admitted to himself that he was not quite sure how that made him feel. You were the youngest member of the Fellowship, and a woman at that. ... Perhaps your being from another world had something to do with your behaviour and conviction.

Finding that out was certainly quite a shock. But he knew it wasn't that alone that continued to draw his attention to you.

He felt like a depraved old man, always watching you from afar. You rarely spent your days alone, instead choosing to spend time with each member of the Fellowship. You tried your hardest to get to know them, and listened to everything they had to say, simply because you wanted to 'break the ice', as you called it, before leaving with them.

Elrond quickly found that when you weren't getting to know the others, you used your time training under Aragorn's watchful gaze and informative and skilled instructions. It was clear you'd never used a sword before, but you certainly seemed to have potential.

Elrond spent hours watching and speaking to you, and spent days thinking about you. And the desperation he felt for simply wanting to be near you was almost alarming.

Even worse, in his opinion, was that his thoughts of you were hardly innocent. There were desires there too, desires he thought he had long since been able to push away.

More than once he envisioned you below him, your hair fanned out around you, your (S/C) skin sweat-slicked and glowing. More than once he envisioned you reaching out to him, eyes wide and darkened with lust. More than once he envisioned himself running his hands down your body, discovering all the little spots that would make you gasp, and moan, and squirm, and arch into his touch. What would you taste like, he wondered?

He hated himself for having these desires some days and yet, no matter what he told himself, he wasn't able to stop lusting after you. He could only hope he never revealed any of this. You couldn't possibly feel the same way for him as he did you.

Of course, he was wrong.

You were standing in Lord Elrond's study, arguing with him. Okay, so it wasn't arguing so much as it was debating, but still. It was probably a good thing there was no one else in here with you, because you kept switching between topics, having so much to talk about.

But the passion in your debate turned into a passion of an entirely different kind when Lord Elrond silenced you suddenly with a kiss.

You blinked, Elrond pulled away, and then you grabbed him by the collar of his robes, yanked him closer, and pressed your lips to his firmly. It took Elrond all of three seconds to take control, when he pinned you to the nearest wall. He needed only one hand to do it, not that you were trying to get away or anything.

With his free hand, Elrond cupped your jaw, coaxing you into parting your lips. Oh, you tasted exactly like he thought you would. He swallowed your moan, and then pulled back, smiling slightly as you tried to follow him.

You gazed up at him through heavily lidded eyes. "Don't start questioning things now," you all but pleaded, gripping his forearm. The last thing you wanted was for him to stop, and you were worried he would do just that if he allowed himself to pause and think things through.

But think is exactly what Elrond did. He was known for having exceptional control, and he prided himself on that too. So what was it about you that had him losing all sense of that control?

When you'd begun debating on a rather questionable topic you clearly didn't agree on, that was all it was, a debate. But once you had gotten comfortable, you'd changed. Your eyes had brightened, your voice had grown louder and firmer, your confidence had grown.

You were beautiful.

So, he'd found himself bringing up topic after topic, just so you would stay in the room, just so he could hear you like this, see you like this. The passion you had for what you were saying was beyond obvious, and he'd moved into you so suddenly that his kiss had cut your words off while you'd still been speaking.

He wanted this-wanted you so much, too much, but now that he had a moment to pause and think, he found himself hesitating. But Elrond underestimated you, because you were the one who stepped forward, cupping his face in your hands.

"Please don't question things. Please don't stop! Please!"

His eyes saddened. "(Y/N)...you cannot und-"

You were the one to cut him off now, silencing him with a kiss he couldn't help but respond to. He felt your fingers travelling up and down his chest, trying to find skin. He soon realized he was doing the same.

Just once, he told himself. Just this once, just for today, he would drop the reins he had on his control. Just this once he would allow his desires to take over. Just this one time.

You gasped. It was like a switch had been flipped. Elrond went from hesitating greatly, even pulling away from you, to kissing the breath out of you barely a second later. His long, slender fingers tangled in your hair, tilting your head back so he could deepen the kiss even further.

With his free hand, he reached behind you and pulled at the laces of your dress, undoing them swiftly. Before you knew it, you found that you were completely bare. You'd been so caught up in the intoxicating kisses that you hadn't even noticed him undressing you. You hardly minded.

You groaned when Elrond cupped your breasts, his hands large and firm. Your own hands ran along his chest and you began to grow frustrated, still unable to find skin. It was really quite unfair that you were naked and he was still fully dressed.

Clearly realizing what you were thinking, Elrond laughed lightly, ducking down to press a kiss to your throat, before beginning to undress, a sight you were certainly enjoying-very obviously too, much to Elrond's amusement. Your fingers touched the newly bared skin before he even finished removing his clothing.

Elrond returned the touch, eyes falling shut as he felt your warm hands on his bare chest, your touch firm and confident. It had been so long since anyone had touched him like this. He found the warmth you exuded intoxicating.

Your fingers travelled lower and lower, until they curled around his erection, already hard in your hand. Elrond's eyes widened slightly. Oh, bold girl. He said nothing and allowed you to touch him to your fill. But he wasn't remaining idle.

His own hands continued roaming along and over your body, touching, tracing, stroking, kneading, feeling. Your skin was soft, but there were rises and dips, and oh, was this a scar over here?

Your fingers went up to Elrond's chest, back down to his abdomen, and then you lowered to your knees, taking him in hand again and ducking in.

Elrond's grey eyes widened slightly, understanding what you were about to do. "(Y/N)-" he broke off with a barely audible gasp, which quickly turned into a definitely audible groan. He reached down to your head, fingers trailing in your hair.

You had him between your lips-just the head, nothing else, and were sucking, while your hand pumped the rest of his cock, the fingers of your other hand digging into his thigh as you kept yourself steady.

You took him in further, and Elrond's head fell back as he allowed himself to get lost in the sensations for just a moment. But he was back soon enough and pulled you up to your feet.

You blinked, eyes displaying what was clearly confusion. "Did I do some-"

Elrond cut you off with a kiss that left you both breathless instantly. The second your arms wrapped around his neck, Elrond lifted you up into his arms and carried you across his study.

He set you down on your feet, turned you around, and setting a hand on your back, gently pushed you forward, bending you over his large, wooden, parchment-strewn desk.

For a second you just blinked, wondering how on Arda you'd ended up in this position. Then you looked behind from over your shoulder and your breath stuttered and caught. Elrond was standing behind you, his eyes dark, his cheeks slightly flushed, his lips a bit swollen, his hair a little mussed under his circlet, his breathing quick.

He was nowhere near as dishevelled as you probably were, but for someone who was usually so perfectly put together, even just this was beyond enticing.

He stepped forward, the tips of his fingers trailing down your bare back, over your spine, causing you to gasp and arch. His fingers trailed back up, then down again, and then he cupped your bum, kneading firmly. You gasped again and bit your lip, your hips pushing back, which was certainly a reaction Elrond was enjoying very much.

"Such a bold girl," Elrond said softly, closing the distance between you, pressing himself against you. "Do you feel this?" he asked. "Do you feel me?" He wasn't expecting or waiting for an answer. He reached between your bodies, cupped you, found you already wet.

You moaned softly. Oh gods, you really hoped this wasn't a dream! Your moan only grew louder when you felt a long, slender finger, then a second, slide into you.

Elrond hummed in response, pulled his fingers out, then plunged them back in. "I know what I want. I know what I wish to take, what I wish to give." He sped up, stretching you open for him, should his control continue to drop. "Tell me, meleth nin, what is it you desire? What do you wish to give me? What do you wish to take from me? What do you want?" (my love)

What did you want? You really hoped he wasn't expecting a proper answer to that, because with what those hands were doing to you, you seriously couldn't focus right now, certainly not enough to form a proper thought, let alone string a coherent sentence together!

"Tell me, (Y/N)."

"Fuck me, dammit!"

...Yes, Elrond decided, his control was most certainly breaking. He pulled his fingers free, lined himself up, grabbed your hips, and then thrust forward, eyes falling shut and a groan dying in his throat.

You cried out and jolted forward, surprised at being so full so suddenly. You scrabbled to find some sort of purchase, sending sheets of parchment falling to the floor quietly, and settled for grabbing the edge of the desk in front of you.

Elrond didn't wait for you to get used to him, and you didn't ask him to. He began thrusting immediately, setting a quick, harsh rhythm, fucking you open.

"More, meleth?" (love)

"Yes! Harder!" And your moan turned into a cry as Elrond did just that. At the same moment, he slid a hand beneath you, between you and the desk, so he could give your neglected clit a bit of attention, which only had you moaning louder and bucking back against him, trying to match the harsh rhythm he'd set.

But it still wasn't enough. Not for either of you. Elrond still did have a sliver of control left, and you knew it.

You craned your neck to look over your shoulder, and allowed one of your hands to release its death grip on the desk so you could reach back behind you. "Stop holding back," you all but demanded. "I know you have more for me. You do, don't you? I want you to fuck me hard enough I can't walk properly for a week! Fuck me, Elrond!"

Elrond's eyes flashed and his blood boiled. He grabbed the arm that was reaching towards him, pinned it to your back, and fucked you into his desk hard enough the whole thing rocked.

This time, you screamed.

This was what you'd wanted. This was what, though he hadn't realized it, Elrond had been wanting too, wanting-needing for a very, very long time now.

It was strange that it was you of all people who was able to give him what he had been needing this entire time, but for once in his long, difficult life, Elrond decided to simply embrace the desires of Man and enjoy what he had for as long as he could.

He took everything he desired from you and gave you all you desired in return, and sure enough, you certainly struggled to walk the next day, though you merely grinned whenever anyone questioned you about it.

It was a good thing the Fellowship wasn't due to depart for some days yet!

You were doing it again, he realized.

Haldir stood in one of the many trees in Lorien, watching one of their guests. You were a member of the Fellowship of the Ring-the only woman, and Haldir found that he rather enjoyed watching you. Not because you were a woman, but because of the expressions that passed over your face.

He hadn't been impressed by you at all the first time he'd seen you. You were just another member of the Fellowship to him-one of those brave and foolish souls partaking in a dangerous, seemingly foolish quest.

And then he'd caught a glimpse of your face while you and your companions were led further into the wood. You were so...expressive, and Haldir found himself utterly enthralled, though he had absolutely no idea why.

He was both disappointed and pleased when Lord Celeborn and Lady Galadriel granted the Fellowship entry, and as the days went by, Haldir was beginning to run out of excuses for why he continued to watch over you.

The simple, or not so simple reason, was that he enjoyed watching the many expressions that passed over your face. The best (and most conflicting for him) moments, he decided, were when you lost yourself in one of your many daydreams.

He knew much of daydreaming, though he rarely did so himself, and he'd noticed that in most cases when people daydreamed, their expressions would be of absolutely nothing, if not rather dazed.

But when you daydreamed, your expressions never remained the same. They would always pass over your face, one after the other, always making him wonder what was going through your mind. Was that why he watched you? Was it simply curiosity?

Even now, as he stood there in that tree, his eyes lingering on you, he didn't really know. You looked happy, he noted, and for some reason, he ached to get closer to you. Your eyes were shining, and a smile touched your lips.

What were you thinking of, he wondered, that was making you smile in such a way? A person? An idea? An event?

There were no hints at all as to what was going on in your mind. His curiosity grew, and he wanted to know, he really did. But it wasn't as if he could ask. It was hardly his place to question something so personal. Even he knew that.

You sighed softly, stretched, then lowered down to your back on the leaf-littered ground, releasing a second sigh as you adjusted your dress beneath you as you settled, once more falling into your daydreams.

Haldir didn't notice when he descended the tree, nor did he notice when he began to approach you. Silently, without a word, he knelt down nearby. If you noticed his approach or his new place of...vigil, so to speak, you didn't mention it-didn't even react.

You smiled again though, gently this time, the expression on your face light and somehow innocent. And even as Haldir continued trying to guess what you were thinking, your head turned and your eyes opened, revealing satisfied (E/C), and you greeted him with that same gentle smile that for some reason made his heart stutter.

Haldir didn't understand why, but something was telling him that he wasn't going to have to continue guessing what you kept daydreaming about. Something was telling him that you were going to tell him yourself one day.

And he found that he really couldn't wait.

You were standing in one of your old classrooms. It appeared exactly as you remembered it, except that it was empty, which was rather strange in itself, and oddly ominous too, though you couldn't say why.

Suddenly, something began to materialize in front of you on the other side of the room. It was a spider. But not a normal spider, no. The thing was bigger than you were! Its hairs were thick and dark, its eyes glowing eerily. It stood there, staring at you.

Apprehension very quickly became terror. Your eyes widened, before your breath stuttered and caught. "Nooo!" you groaned. You bolted for the door. "No! Dammit!" The door was locked and didn't look as if it was going to be opening any time soon. "Crap, what's with this stupid cliche!?" you cried, unable to stop yourself.

Eyes locked on the spider, you began inching your way along the left wall. There was a second door in here, this one behind the teacher's desk.

The spider clicked closer, luckily moving away from where you were trying to go. You slowly moved along the front wall and then scrambled over the teacher's desk and to the second door, only to discover this one too was locked.

You turned around and found yourself in the middle of a dark forest. You didn't even question it and didn't hesitate to run either, but that didn't result in much. More spiders descended from silk threads, blocking your path, and you stopped short, aware you were trapped. They had you completely surrounded.

With the huge spider from the classroom advancing, your panic began to grow. What could you do? What could you possibly do!?

Suddenly, the spider jumped straight across the forest floor and landed on top of you, sending you crashing to the ground painfully, fallen leaves flying everywhere.  It kept you pinned in place with its heavier body, hissing at you viciously.

Terror growing even further, you struggled and writhed, trying to dislodge the spider without touching it, though it didn't move even an inch. Releasing a dry sob, you finally pushed as hard as you could on the creature, feeling rough, coarse hairs against your palms. Your shoving did nothing, and those clicking pincers only came closer to your face.

"No! Please, no! No!"

"Shh, it's a dream, (Y/N). It's just a dream."

You woke very suddenly but didn't really notice. Still caught in the dream, you continued to struggle against the strong arms around you. Instead of releasing you, however, their grasp only tightened.

"Calm down, ghivashel. You were dreaming. Shh, shh," the same voice said again in a low and slightly worried, yet calming tone. (treasure of all treasures)

Brain finally managing to process the words, you stopped struggling. The arms around you relaxed but didn't let go, and still partially caught in your fear, you reached out blindly, fingers grabbing and tangling in the tunic of the person-the dwarf holding you.

You were in Middle earth, not your own world, and in a room in newly reclaimed Erebor, not your old classroom, or Mirkwood either. And the one holding you was your betrothed and luckily, not a spider. Just the thought of the arachnid had you shuddering again.

Kili brought you up against him, a hand on your back and the other in your hair, cradling you close, as if attempting to make you stop trembling. "You're safe, (Y/N), it's alright."

"Sorry," you mumbled finally, your voice half muffled in Kili's tunic.

"Shh, it's all right, ghivashel," said Kili softly, running his fingers through your hair. "You're okay, amrâlimê. No one can hurt you now. I'm here, azyungal." He kissed your forehead, your cheeks, your nose, trying to draw your attention away from the night terror. (treasure of all treasures, my love, love of loves)

It wasn't the first nightmare you'd had since Mirkwood, and though it pained him, he knew it wasn't going to be the last one either. His mysterious lover, from your strange magicless world, forced away from home for no explainable reason. Was it any wonder you were afraid?

Finally calm, you wrapped your arms around Kili's neck and nuzzled into him. "I'm sorry," you murmured again without even realizing it. "Gods, I'm so sorry."

But Kili laughed gently. "Why do you always apologize for things that aren't your fault?"

You shrugged as well as you could in the position you were in. "Habit?"

Kili laughed again and then pulled back to press his lips to your forehead. "Better?"

"No."

He kissed your cheek. "Now?"

"Uh uh."

He touched his lips to yours. "Now?"

"Mmm, just a little," you said somewhat cheekily. You needed this humour, this light-heartedness. Needed it desperately. Needed to forget.

Kili seemed to understand that too, because he kissed you again, more firmly this time, and you could feel his smile against you. "And now?"

"Nope. I think I need more." The fear was still there but was, thankfully, finally beginning to fade away.

"Then how about this?" Kili cupped your face in his hands, smoothed his thumbs over your cheeks, tipped your head back, and then slanted his mouth over yours.

You moaned, tangling your fingers in Kili's hair and returning the kiss, silently begging-demanding for more. You could still feel that spider against you and wanted to erase the feeling.

You took Kili's hands and brought them to the hem of your newly bought tunic, your original shirt having been torn weeks ago. (Luckily, the Mirkwood elves had been decent enough to lend you something, despite your having been their prisoner at the time).

Understanding what you wanted, Kili slid his hands under the tunic and along your skin. He felt the goosebumps that broke out as you arched into him, and he smiled again as he trailed kisses along your throat.

Sighing, you snaked your own hands under Kili's tunic, trailing your fingers up a firm stomach to an equally firm chest. You ran your thumbs over nipples that pebbled under your touch, then gasped sharply when he pinched one of your own.

Kili pulled his head back and you saw his eyes, so dark now, the brown barely visible. "I want you." And his voice was so thick, so low, that it sent shivers down your spine.

This wasn't the best time or place, any of the other members of the Company could simply walk into the room at any moment, or maybe you would even be attacked. But though you knew this, you couldn't bring yourself to care.

You were alone in what should be considered a private bedroom, and were betrothed. You would be doing nothing wrong.

"Okay."

Kili's eyes flashed, and he hissed out something in his own tongue that you didn't understand as you both removed your clothes, exposing yourselves to the night chill. His hands came to your breasts, immediately kneading them both before he ducked his head down.

Your eyes fell shut and you moaned at the sudden heat that enveloped you. But Kili didn't stay at your chest for long and trailed his lips down your body as he carefully pushed you back onto the bed, before clambering over you and kissing you again.

You could feel him against you, hard and hot, and oh, you were ready for him-ached for him. Reaching down between you, you curled your fingers around his cock and pumped a few times before guiding him to you.

Catching the not at all subtle hint, Kili shifted his hips and you both groaned as he sank into your tight heat. There was a touch of pain for you, since you hadn't really been prepared, but that was fine, that was what you wanted right now. You needed to make sure you weren't dreaming.

Setting his hands on either side of you, Kili lowered himself over you, touching his forehead to yours as he began to move. You brought your arms around him, nails raking down his back, and forced yourself to keep your eyes open, locked with his.

Neither of you knew how long you remained this way, both slowly moving in unison, pleasure growing with each passing moment before finally peaking.

You were silent, releasing sharp breaths that mingled together. You went slack, Kili collapsing on top of you, trying to catch his breath.

After catching your own, you brought your arms around him again, hugging him close. "Thank you," you murmured.

Kili raised himself up and pressed your foreheads together once more, fingers running down your cheek before he cupped your jaw tenderly. "No one will hurt you, ghivashel. Never again." (treasure of all treasures)

The last few days had been very difficult. The last few weeks, really, if the Fellowship was being honest, and that was one reason you were all relieved to have been able to stop on your rough journey and rest in a safe place.

Only two of your group had been to Lorien before, but the rest of you appreciated its serene beauty all the same-a serenity and beauty that felt completely different when compared to Rivendell.

You yourself spent a lot of your time alone, wandering around in silence, admiring the tall trees and silver lights. Not only had you never been to Lothlorien before, your presence in Middle earth itself was something rather new.

You weren't quite sure how it happened, or even why, but you'd fallen asleep in your bed one night and then woken up on a large hill just outside of the Shire the next morning.

Baffled and a little frightened, you'd begun to walk, unsure what else you could do, and run into Gandalf, who'd been on his way to see Bilbo for his birthday party. You'd spoken for a while, him questioning you, having noted not only your confusion, but your odd clothing as well, and once assured you weren't an enemy of any sort, brought you along with him, promising to help you.

And so, you'd ended up at Bag End, met Bilbo and Frodo, went to the party and met Sam, and Merry, and Pippin, and watched as Bilbo vanished, and as Gandalf left mere minutes later. You'd stayed at Bag End with Frodo, trying to adjust to everything-to being in Middle earth.

You'd learned, along with Frodo, about the One Ring when Gandalf had come back to explain things, and left the Shire with both Frodo and Sam, and Merry and Pippin too, Gandalf having informed you it was best if you didn't remain behind.

Having no reason to complain, you'd complied almost without thought. Honestly speaking, you hadn't really wanted to be left behind alone in the Shire while everyone you knew went off someplace else.

But what should have been a simple three-day journey to Bree had been anything but.

Those Black Riders had been beyond terrifying, and their pursuit did nothing to ease the small group's tension or fear. Unfortunately, things hadn't really gotten much better even when you'd finally managed to reach Bree.

The Riders hadn't left you be at all, but at least Strider's presence made things just a little bit easier. He knew what was happening, understood what was happening, and worked hard to ensure the group's safety. His confidence and attention had spurred you on too, and you'd tried your best to remain by his side, helping and watching over the hobbits.

Your own confidence had dropped when Frodo was attacked and taken away by Arwen, and you'd been extremely relieved to reach the safety of Rivendell...only to end up joining the Fellowship of the Ring just a few days later because you refused to remain behind while your little friends and Strider-or rather, Aragorn, put their lives at risk.

You staying back wouldn't accomplish much of anything. You were willing to learn to fight, and Aragorn was willing to teach you, and even Gandalf told you that you exploring more of Middle earth could reveal a way for you to go home, if it was even possible to do.

Admittedly, you sometimes regretted it. There was so much happening, and even when nothing was, you were too tense to even relax. You were sure Aragorn had realized it too, because he often walked beside you at the back of the group, or sat with you by the fire, or kept watch with you at night, sometimes speaking to you, other times listening, and sometimes just remaining as silent as you were.

What began as a friendship between you soon turned into another thing entirely, and you comforted and consoled one another after what happened in Moria. But you both knew that there was something else you needed, something that was missing.

You had no idea what that might be, or even why it seemed to be missing in the first place, and wondered if what you were feeling wasn't just homesickness. It seemed like the simplest answer, after all.

You sighed and gave your head a little shake, realizing that you'd paused in your walking and leaned up against one of the massive trees. Shaking your head again, you pulled yourself away from the tree, stretched, and resumed walking.

You were humming softly when you wandered into a clearing near a small spring, and your humming stopped altogether when you realized you'd just happened upon Aragorn and Boromir. They were seated on a fallen log and appeared to be in the middle of what looked to be a rather serious discussion.

When they looked up at you, you blinked and then stepped back. "I'm sorry, I didn't realize you guys were here," you said immediately. Not wanting to disturb them further than you already had, but hoping they hadn't been arguing, since they didn't always seem to get along, you turned to leave them be.

"No, stay, meleth nin," Aragorn called to you abruptly. (my love)

You paused, then shrugged, figuring they wanted your opinion on whatever they'd just been discussing. It wouldn't be the first time. They knew you were always happy to help. "Alright?"

But you remained where you were until Aragorn held his hand out to you. Now you walked over to him, accepting his hand with a smile. A smile that vanished as soon as you were yanked in for a kiss.

You groaned, your free hand immediately coming to grasp Aragorn's shoulder as you stepped into the space between his long legs.

When you eventually broke apart, both Aragorn and Boromir stood, and it was only now that you even remembered Boromir was here too. But you didn't have time to be embarrassed, because Aragorn turned you to face Boromir, even as he moved in to stand behind you.

"Kiss him," said Aragorn, his voice low.

You blinked, completely caught off guard by the words. They weren't a request, but also weren't quite a demand either. "Wha-?"

"Kiss him, (Y/N)," said Aragorn, his hard chest pressed to your back. "Tonight, you will have us both." His large hands slowly moved down to grip your hips as he spoke heatedly into your ear. "Is this not what you have been desiring? Go on, Ithil nin. Kiss him." (my moon)

This was what you'd been wanting? This was what you felt was missing? It was baffling, insane, unexpected, and somehow...perfect. Because yes, this really was something you'd been thinking of, something you'd been fantasizing and lusting over, even if it was something that only happened once.

You looked up at Boromir and found that he was looking back down at you, though he was making no move to approach or touch you, waiting for you to decided what to do first. He was a respectful man. He wouldn't lay a finger on you unless you approved of it, you knew.

You had no reason to argue against this. Neither did you have a reason to deny it. You wanted this, after all. So you kissed Boromir lightly, just so he and Aragorn knew this was something you were indeed accepting.

Pleased with the response, Aragorn held you from behind, pressing bearded kisses and little nips to your neck, which had you whimpering breathlessly. Boromir stood in front of you, all but ravishing your mouth with a passion that was somehow both gentle yet forceful at the same time.

You were sandwiched between them. Sandwiched between their hard bodies, between their warm chests, and you could feel clear evidence of their arousal from both in front of you and behind.

It was already intoxicating.

Stepping back, the men slowly stripped out of their layers of clothing, while you did the same. While Aragorn wasn't seeing anything new, Boromir certainly was, and he groaned at the sight of you, calloused fingers belonging to warm warrior's hands immediately running across your skin, trailing over the rises and dips, tracing them gently and curiously.

"You're beautiful," he murmured, before dropping to his knees and putting his mouth on you.

You moaned, your head falling back, your fingers tangling in Boromir's hair. And then you gasped when you felt Aragorn press into you from behind, and oh, you could feel him against your lower back, hard and hot. His lips latched onto your neck, and he pressed hungry, heated kisses along your shoulder, long fingers sliding down your body.

Boromir wasn't gentle, using his lips, his tongue, his teeth, sucking and biting, while his other hand squeezed and toyed with your other breast. Aragorn's own fingers had found their way between your thighs, meanwhile, and stroked over you firmly.

"Tell me what you want, (Y/N)," said Aragorn, nipping your earlobe. "Tell us what you desire."

You knew, without a doubt, that this was his way of asking how far you were willing to go, because they would take it no further than you wanted. You knew that. But as much as you knew that, you also knew that you wanted this. Wanted all of it.

"Everything," you said, breath hitching as Boromir sucked on a nipple harshly. "I-ah! I want everything!"

You'd barely finished when you found yourself on your back on the grass, Boromir hovering over you. He kissed you like a man starving before trailing kisses and nips along your throat, down to your chest, his tongue dipping into your belly button, which had you gasping, though you had absolutely no idea why.

He continued his hot path downwards, his coarse facial hair scratchy against your skin. "You are so wet," he muttered against your mound, clearly pleased. His tongue ran along you, tasting you, and he hummed in approval. He slipped a finger inside you, long, thick, and calloused, and quickly followed with a second. He groaned, the sound one of disbelief, tinged with lust.

Aragorn lowered down to kiss you, his own large, and equally calloused hands kneading your breasts, now that Boromir was focused somewhere else. You wrapped your arms around Aragorn even as you arched into the other man. Boromir responded by simply setting his free hand over you, pushing your hips back down, his tongue on your clit.

Reaching out, you took Aragorn in hand, smiling slightly at the grunt that left him-you loved hearing his reactions to what you did to him. You closed your fingers around him and pumped the hard length, already prepared to have him fill you-you didn't even care where.

Perhaps he seemed to know that, for he suddenly signalled Boromir, who nodded before lowering himself down on his back in the grass. Aragorn then helped you move to straddle the broader man.

You took his thick cock in hand and guided him to your entrance, lowering down on him. All three of you groaned now, two from the feel, and one from the sight. Boromir stretched you open wonderfully.

Forcing himself not to thrust up into the tight heat enveloping him, Boromir gripped your hips tightly. "Aragorn, be quick." This was beyond torture! He couldn't possibly wait for long.

"Lean forward, meleth," said Aragorn softly, slicking up his fingers-a ranger was always prepared for the unexpected. With one hand on your back, he readied you with the other one, easing first one finger, then two, and then, once you asked, a third into you. "Ready?" he asked a few long minutes later. And when you nodded frantically, he coated himself with the oil and pushed inside you carefully. (love)

You dropped your head down onto Boromir, whose fingers were digging into your hips, and he groaned in relief when you finally gave them permission to move. Neither man hesitated and began to thrust, quickly finding a steady rhythm to fall into that had your lips parting and releasing a steady stream of moans.

"Oh god!" you gasped. You were so full, and were trapped between them, able to feel the heat coming off their hard, strong bodies. It was sweaty, and sticky, and absolutely delicious. "Oh god, more! Please, mo-"

Your words were stifled by the sudden fierce kiss by the man beneath you. Behind you, Aragorn gripped your hip in one of his hands, the other one gently running up and down your spine in a soothing motion.

"Faster?" he inquired.

"Faster," you agreed.

They sped up and your climax hit you completely out of nowhere, surprising all three of you at its unexpectedness. You cried out loudly and both men couldn't help the sounds that left them as they felt your walls tighten around them.

They continued their relentless thrusts, neither of them in sync anymore, unable to keep the same pace, though you hardly seemed to mind, or even notice, for that matter.

It only took a moment more before they stiffened as well, one after the other, and you moaned again when you felt them spill inside you.

Breathless, you collapsed on top of Boromir, unable to keep yourself up any longer, and Aragorn only just managed to pull out of you and move off to the side before dropping to the grass.

The moment he did that, you rolled off of Boromir and lay between the two men, your arms spread out over both of them, all three of you breathing heavily and covered with a sheen of sweat.

"Hah, well," you said once you'd eventually caught your breath, "that was fun. Thank you for that."

Boromir laughed softly, the sound barely audible. "I feel I should be the one thanking you."

You just laughed, unable to deny that, and watched through half-lidded eyes as Boromir pushed himself to his feet, rinsed off with the water from the nearby spring, dressed, and with a small smile, left you and Aragorn alone.

Now you rolled over, nuzzling close to Aragorn, your hand over his heart. "La fael," you whispered. (thank you)

He said nothing at first and simply kissed the crown of your head, bringing his arms around you. Finally, he said, "There is no reason for you to be thanking either of us. You and I both know this was what you wanted. You and I both know that this is what I too wanted. And you and I both know that this is what Boromir has been wanting as well."

You grinned. "True. ...So, any chance for a second go?"

Now it was Aragorn who laughed. "You are utterly insatiable, Ithil nin." (my moon)

Your grin only widened. "You know you love me."

Aragorn laughed again.

The Company of Thorin Oakenshield was seated around the fire you'd started at camp.

You'd left Rivendell a couple of days ago, and were trying to make your way to the Misty Mountains, though it was going to take some days yet. For now, your journey had come to a stop for the night so you could eat and rest, much to the relief of a certain number of them-you yourself included.

While you ate, the group, as always, told a few stories. It was a good way to pass time and, more of than not, the stories were pretty interesting too. You always learned something new about Middle earth and all who lived here.

Out of everyone in the Company, you were probably the one who told the least amount of stories, opting to listen instead of tell, most of the time.

The majority of the tales they all told had something to do with their pasts, and were of things that had once either happened to them or someone they knew. If they weren't telling stories like that, then there would be fairy tales, things that had taken place in the distant past, and sometimes, things they all pretended had once happened to them.

But much to your surprise, tonight's general story topic was something you hadn't at all expected to ever come up: ghost stories. Well, wasn't that interesting?

You listened with interest as Nori told his tale first. He was followed by Gloin, then Balin, then Ori, then Fili and Kili-who told one together, then Bofur, and then, surprisingly, Thorin.

But while all their stories were pretty interesting, you didn't find any of them to be particularly frightening (probably because of all the horror movie exposure back in your own world) and, well, what was the point of a ghost story if it wasn't scary?

"What about you, lassie?" said Bofur, after the last story had finished being recounted. "Have any ghost tales for us?"

You appeared caught off guard by the sudden inquiry. "Hmm, I think I might have something," you replied rather hesitantly.

"Tell us!"

The dwarves exchanged smirks, clearly under the impression that since you looked so unsure, there was no way you were going to be able to tell a good, scary story. Not one better than theirs, at any rate. They doubted you had it in you.

They were wrong.

Sitting upon your prepared bedroll, you looked as innocent as ever. But on the inside? On the inside, you were all but cackling. The Company had absolutely no idea what they were getting themselves into.

Scary stories were your specialty.

"Now, this story," you began, "is something that happened to a friend of mine-Liz, we'll call her. It begins on a bright, clear, happy afternoon."

The dwarves continued smirking. This wasn't scary at all! Unfortunately for them, you had only just begun...

"-so Liz said goodbye to her friend, and the two parted ways, heading home. As she walked, she began getting the feeling that she was being watched. When she looked around, she didn't see anything, but she grew uneasy and sped up, now eager to get home as quickly as she possibly could-"

The dwarves' smirks still didn't fade. Bilbo, however, began to feel as uneasy as 'Liz'. He was starting to get a very bad feeling about this.

"-she unlocked the door, pushed it open, and suddenly felt a sharp pain at the back of her head. Attacked from behind, she was knocked unconscious-"

Now, the smirks began to fade slightly.

"-but she wasn't alone. There were eight others in this strange house with her, and like her, none of them seemed to have any idea how or why any of this had happened-"

Okay, this was a little weird. They listened closely as your story, which had begun fairly cheerily, began taking a darker turn.

"-the man, the one with the curly hair, was dead. Liz was horrified when she realized that this man's arms had been torn off. Torn right from their sockets, blood splattered all over the walls and floor and the d-"

A much darker turn.

"-and now the long-haired woman was nowhere to be found either. As you can imagine, the five of them grew quite concerned, since she was now the fourth of their group to go missing, and the first three had been brutally killed-"

Brutally was an understatement, thought Bilbo, utterly horrified. The dwarves seemed to be in agreement. No one was smirking now, that was for sure.

"-turned the corner. And there she was. They didn't have to look hard to know she was dead. In fact, it took them longer to recognize her than it did to figure out how she'd died. With great speed and strength, she'd been thrown against that same wall from before, and splattered everywhere. The sight was horrific. The smell was even worse-"

"Oh, Mahal..."

Most of the dwarves looked disgusted. Every smile was gone and didn't seem like they would be reappearing any time soon. Though they could hardly be blamed for that.

"-finally realized that continuing to split up, even for a moment, probably wasn't a good idea, seeing as every time they did, someone died. But while that was all fine and dandy, it brought forth another problem too. If the deaths stopped, did that mean one of them was the killer? Was one of them doing all this? Liz didn't-"

No one could look away. No one could stop listening. The story was terrifying, disgusting, and intriguing, all at once.

"-believed, at least until there was another attack, this one right in front of them. The last woman in the group, besides Liz, suddenly rose into the air. She just floated there in front of them, and they stared up at her in shock. This wasn't normal, and was only about to get worse-"

Oh no. How could this possibly get any worse!?

"-she began to scream, scream as if she was in intense pain. But no one could see anything wrong with her, other than the fact that she was floating in the air. The men, all taller than Liz, tried to get the woman down, but every single time they got close to reaching her, she would end up even higher in the air, until she was pressed right up against the ceiling. She only screamed louder-"

And half of the dwarves and Bilbo only shuddered harder.

"-human body can't take that much pressure. Her bones snapped, one by one, and she burst open at the seams, her insides spilling out everywhere. Then she fell to the floor like a discarded doll, and never moved again-"

Bilbo pushed himself closer to the fire, desperately seeking its warmth, feeling very cold all of a sudden. Ori did the same.

"-it couldn't have been any of them. None of them were strong enough to do what happened to those five, not to mention that woman had been killed right in front of them. The remaining four were more confused than ever-"

So were those listening, but they couldn't even bring themselves to ask you to stop. They were enthralled by the gruesome tale.

"-loud, booming footsteps, that echoed throughout the house-"

Enthralled by each and every word.

"-snarling, growling, cackling. No matter where the four went in that house, no matter which room they entered, that was all they heard. The shadows on the walls were unbelievably tall, shaped bizarrely, with huge-"

Now everyone had gotten as close to the fire as they safely could. But still, you went on, the tale becoming yet darker, though it surely shouldn't have been possible.

"-couldn't believe it. His eyes had gone dark, pitch black, with not even any white in sight. But how could this be possible? Out of everyone in the group, he'd been the kindest, the most supportive, and now, he was revealing that he was the one behind everything that-"

Jaws dropped at this revelation. No one had seen this twist coming!

"-watched him go down, and now Liz knew she was alone. Alone with this-this dark, this evil...creature. This was bad, very bad, but she didn't know what to do. She was positive she would be fine if she could just get out of the house, but that was another thing that was easier said than done-"

Aware the tale was nearing its end, the Company leaned forward as one, unaware they had even done it, none of them wanting to miss even a single word.

"-ran faster than she had ever run before in her entire life, but the dark being had no trouble keeping up with her, and chased her through the house. Determined to try the door once more, just in case, Liz had only just reached it, panting heavily, when she found herself-"

Bilbo sneezed. Everyone jolted, and then glared, annoyed with themselves at their reactions, and for having let the story get to them like this. You paid it no mind and continued recounting. You weren't done just yet, and were enjoying it immensely.

"-immobilized. The being had been toying with her by chasing her. He approached her slowly, laughing softly. Liz was the only one left. No one was going to be able to help her and she knew it. She was completely at its mercy-"

At this point, the Company had stopped moving, and even stopped breathing. They sat, still as statues, holding their breath, as if the dark being was standing before them instead of Liz.

"-goodbye. Liz's screams faded into the darkness. All eight of them were dead, and the dark being, stained with Liz's blood, smirked. There were multiple snicks as all the doors and windows not only unlocked, but opened-the final taunt. Finally, after so many long hours, there were means of escape. Unfortunately, there was no one left to use them. With a low, dark laugh, the malicious being walked out into the rain and vanished in the fog."

Not a word was said. Everyone just stared.

"The end." You simply smiled now, as sweetly and innocently as always...

If a few of them had night terrors after hearing that ghost tale, well, they were going to take that secret with them to their graves. They would never admit you had succeeded in frightening them quite that much.

They watched in awe as you hummed a cheery tune as you brushed your hair, before you settled down to sleep. And from that moment on, no one in the Company of Thorin Oakenshield underestimated you ever, ever again.

Fili was exhausted. Spending hours upon hours attempting to search for the Arkenstone was really starting to get to him.

Days had gone by, so many of them, but no one had found the Stone yet. And going by how large the treasury was, it didn't seem like anyone was getting any closer to finding it either. It seemed like such an impossible task to so many of them.

But Thorin didn't seem to care about any of that. He kept them at it all day, every day, though he himself didn't join in, instead choosing to stand on the balcony above them, calling orders out at the rest of them.

He hated if they stopped searching, even for a moment, so most of them tried to catch a break whenever they could, going as far as to sneak out of the treasury if they had to. It didn't always work either.

Thorin's behaviour was getting worse too, worryingly so. He was obsessed with the Arkenstone and the treasure. And of course, the worse Thorin got, the more scared Kili became.

Fili was rather concerned and frightened himself, but he was the Crown Prince, which meant he had to keep himself together at all times. He had to. It wasn't a matter of choice. Not for him.

But that was easier said than done. He doubted there was anyone here more tense than him right now. ...Well, except maybe Bilbo, he thought with a wry smile.

Yawning widely, Fili walked into the large dining hall-one of many. Since it was big and fairly close to the treasury, this was the room they were resting and sleeping in-Thorin hadn't given them all the chance to explore yet. Just another addition to the already long list of things that Fili was going to have to look into himself if his uncle didn't.

Groaning, already dreading the future work, Fili walked further into the room and then froze. No, there was someone else here who was suffering too.

"(Y/N)..." Sighing softly, Fili approached you quietly. Your bedroll was set up in one of the corners of the room and you were curled up on it, clearly fast asleep. And then he saw that you were shivering.

Fili glanced around. Where was your blanket? He knew you had one, but it was nowhere in sight-oh wait, there it was, over Bilbo. You must have given it to him when you'd noticed he was cold, even though it would obviously leave you feeling cold yourself.

Fili couldn't help but smile. Yes, that was definitely his sweetheart.

Aware he wasn't going to be getting any sleep himself (Thorin would notice he was missing soon), Fili moved over to his own bedroll, which was still set up from earlier, and picked up his blanket.

Walking back over to you, he knelt beside you and carefully draped the blanket over your shivering form, before running his fingers through your hair, smoothing the strands back off your face.

It took mere seconds for you to wake, even though that wasn't his intention. You blinked up at him blearily for a second, eyes filled with sleep. You continued to blink like that and then seemed to see something on his face-in his eyes, that he didn't realize was there.

Reaching out, you took his arm, pulled him down so he was sitting, and then shifted and settled your head down on his lap, bringing the blanket he'd placed over you with you, making sure it was still covering you completely, because you really were pretty cold right now. ...And maybe it was also because you liked the way it smelled.

With Bilbo asleep in the same room, the two of you made sure to keep your voices down as you spoke, not wanting to accidentally wake the little hobbit up.

"How long can you stay?" you asked sleepily, eyes falling shut when Fili's fingers returned to your hair.

"Not long," said Fili quietly. "Uncle will notice I've left soon."

But you, observant as always, immediately understood what he wasn't saying. You took his free hand and folded your fingers together. "We'll get through this," you said firmly.

"(Y/N)..."

You only needed to glance at his face to know what he was thinking. You turned into him, burying your face in his stomach, bringing your arms around him, hugging him as close as you could from your slightly awkward position.

"You're not alone, Fi," you said against him. "You keep worrying about things, but you're forgetting that you don't have to do everything by yourself. I'm here too. Let me help you too, love..." you trailed off.

At first, Fili sat there, frozen in surprise. He hadn't expected those words, which was kind of idiotic, knowing you the way he did. He wanted to smack himself for forgetting that you, no doubt, were concerned about him probably just as much as he was worried about his brother.

Then he realized you'd stopped speaking and looked down, only to look closer and note that you seemed to have fallen back asleep.

Smiling fondly, Fili tightened the blanket around you, smoothed your hair back again, and ducked down to press a gentle kiss to your forehead.

"Gamut nanun, ghivashel." (goodnight/treasure of all treasures)

Was it any wonder he loved you?

When you woke up on a bright morning at the end of an annoyingly dry April in the Shire, you had no reason to believe anything particularly odd was going to happen, least of all to you or your older brother, Bilbo.

You freshened up, helped Bilbo prepare breakfast, ate it, then got ready for the day and left Bag End to run some errands. But much to your surprise, when you returned home, laden with groceries, you found Bilbo inside, looking rather ruffled.

You put everything away in the pantries, growing a little concerned when your brother didn't help you like he usually did. That wasn't like him at all.

"Bilbo?" you said curiously, approaching him once you'd finished. "Is everything all right? Are you ill?"

"Yes, no, everything's just fine," he assured you quickly. "You brought what I asked for, didn't you? We'll make lunch now, as you've missed a meal already-a nice stew perhaps. And I was thinking about fish for tomorrow's dinner. What do you think?" Bilbo was speaking very quickly, moving around the room and glancing around as if he were looking for something.

Not even given the chance to answer, you watched him go, frowning. Bilbo was never like this-not unless he became nervous and frazzled. What had him so worked up, you wondered worriedly?

Fortunately, or perhaps unfortunately, you got your answer soon enough...

The next day began just as the previous had-sunny and warm. But unlike yesterday morning, you immediately noticed that your older brother was still oddly frazzled.

You asked him more than once if something was wrong, but every time you did, he assured you that all was fine. You knew he was lying, but you couldn't understand why. Whatever caused this, happened when you'd been running errands yesterday, you were sure, but you just couldn't figure it out.

Having promised your friend Primula you would drop by for lunch and tea, and having no answer for your brother's odd behaviour, you pushed your concerns aside and began with the errands you had to do for today, wanting to make sure you were finished on time...

As noon approached and you completed your work, Bilbo, looking oddly relieved at the prospect of you leaving the home you shared, wished you a good day and saw you off. You couldn't help but wonder whether your brother had begun courting someone and had asked them over for a meal-a very big step in hobbit courting.

Yes, that would explain his odd nervousness.

Bilbo had never shown much of an interest in anyone, you knew, beyond a few tumbles in the hay, which you were guilty of yourself, so this was an interesting prospect indeed, you thought with a smile.

Luncheon came and went and afternoon tea soon did too, and before you knew it darkness had fallen. You and Primula spent hours chatting cheerfully and neither of you noticed how late it got until your stomachs began to rumble-you'd missed supper!

With dinner approaching and aware Bilbo would no doubt be concerned you hadn't returned yet, you bade your friend a good night and began making your way back to Bag End.

It was a nice night out, clear and a little breezy. And yet, the closer you got to your home, the more you began to feel like something was going to happen. But what that was, you had no idea...

Bag End itself looked normal, you noted as you approached it. But still, something seemed...off. You found yourself speeding up. As you pushed open the gate, your brow furrowed when you began to hear voices. Were those coming from inside? When you reached the door, you had your answer.

Frowning and feeling quite confused, you opened the round green door. Your eyes widened. Why were there so many cloaks hanging? And were-were those weapons!? How many people had your brother invited over! Who had your brother invited over!?

Utterly baffled, you stepped inside and shut the door behind you. It was quite unlike Bilbo to have so many people over at night like this, especially without informing you about it beforehand. Was this why he'd been so frazzled and ruffled since yesterday?

Seeking answers, you followed the sound of the many obviously male voices, and only just turned the corner when you ran into something so hard it had you stumbling back. When an arm came around you, a large hand moving to your back to steady you, you belatedly realized you had run into another person and not an object, as you'd been assuming.

You looked up and blinked. This was no hobbit, was the first thought that went through your mind. He was too tall, too broad, his chestnut-coloured hair was long and wavy, his chin and jaw covered with a dark stubble, and his clothes-a dwarf.

Realizing you were staring, you pulled yourself free and only just opened your mouth to speak when you were interrupted before you could even manage to say a word.

"Who are you?"

You blinked again, your surprise quickly turning to offence. Your apology for bumping into him died on your tongue and something else entirely escaped you. "Excuse me? I live here!" you exclaimed rather indignantly.

The dwarf, whoever he was, stared at you for a second and then grinned. "Well why didn't you just say so!?" And then he grabbed your hand and dragged you along with him. "Master Boggins, your wife's home!" he called out cheerfully.

...What?

"M-my what!?"

You were pulled into the room with the largest table and your eyes widened. Sweet Yavanna, those were a lot of dwarves! You counted even as you stared, and came up with thirteen, including the one you'd bumped into.

But there was someone else in here too-a tall old man, who was hunched over due to the low ceiling. He looked vaguely familiar, but you couldn't put your finger on who he was. And standing amongst this strange group was a very confused and surprised Bilbo.

"(Y/N)!?" he exclaimed, both looking and sounding as if he'd never seen you before in his life.

"This is your wife?" said a young blond-haired dwarf who had twin braids in his mustache, in wonder. He looked you up and down, and grinned. "Lucky you. She's very pretty, isn't she, brother?"

Brother?

The dwarf who'd led you grinned in return and looked over at Bilbo. "Why didn't you tell us you have a wife, Mister Boggins?"

"Baggins," Bilbo corrected, "and she isn't my-"

A third dwarf, this one with a large mustache and a grey hat, laughed heartily. "No need to get shy there! Gloin and Bombur are married too!"

Bilbo flushed. "But she-"

The interruptions kept happening, and while both you and Bilbo certainly learned a whole lot, neither of you was actually given the chance to properly explain much of anything, which became quite annoying after a while. Finally, tired and hungry, you snapped.

"Enough!"

The dwarves fell silent immediately and stared at you with wide eyes filled with surprise, no doubt caught off guard by your sudden outburst.

"Thank you. Now, you all seem to have reached a premature conclusion-and a wrong one too, I might add. Bilbo and I are not married. Neither are we courting," you added when you noticed them open their mouths. "He is my brother." When all they did was stare, you introduced yourself with a little curtsy. "(Y/N) Baggins, at your service."

As the dwarves remained silent, Bilbo released a sigh of relief, no doubt pleased this issue had been resolved, and the old man suddenly began to laugh. The sound caused something to stir in your memory, and your head snapped up.

"Gandalf!?"

His laughter faded and he peered down at you, smiling gently. "I'm pleased to hear you remember me! And quicker than your brother as well!"

You were the one laughing now. "I doubt we were even tweens the last time you visited the Shire! What brings you back now?" you asked curiously.

"You and Bilbo, actually," he said.

But though his tone was light enough, the air in the room changed, becoming thicker and heavier. Surprised, and a little unnerved, you looked to your brother and saw that he was as disturbed as you were, and it was he who spoke first, questioning what Gandalf meant by that.

And then the tale came out. The tale of Erebor, of the treasure, of Smaug. The tale of how the surviving dwarves, poor and homeless, took whatever work they could, wherever they could, doing what they had to in order to provide for their families.

But it was time for a change. It was time to take Erebor back. Time to take their home back. But to do this they needed, for some reason, a burglar-Bilbo. You were wondering where you fit into all this, but had your answer quick enough. They needed a second healer. With so many of them travelling together, it wasn't practical to have only one.

You knew that Bilbo was telling himself that he didn't want to have anything to do with this, but he was lying to himself. It was just hesitation and fear of the unknown that was bothering him. You weren't really feeling the same.

You had always been rather curious and adventurous, even as a fauntling. And unlike your brother, you'd never grown out of it. You wanted to do this, wanted to go on this journey. But more than that...

Bilbo walked out of the room, contract in his hands, leaving everyone staring after him. Gandalf watched him go in silence, then took his pipe out of his mouth and looked down at you with a furrowed brow.

"He's changed," he said to you, "and I cannot say for the better. He's nothing like the Bilbo Baggins I have memory of."

You inclined your head. "It was the Fell Winter that did it," you said softly.

"Fell Winter?" repeated one of the dwarves-Nori, was it?

It was Gandalf who answered, which you were thankful for. "Yes, the Fell Winter of twenty-nine-twenty-one and twenty-nine-twenty-two.* It was abnormally cold that year, and the Bruinen froze over completely. That was when the orcs and wargs invaded, using the frozen river to get in the village. Many hobbits perished, some killed by the enemy, others from the cold, some from illness, and others from starvation. It was a dark period of time for hobbits. Bilbo's parents* were killed by orcs during this time as well."

The dwarves listened to this in shocked silence, clearly not having expected to hear such a horrid thing about such a seemingly peaceful place. But one of them, the one who looked oldest, picked up on something odd, and voiced his thoughts out loud.

"Gandalf, you said it was Master Baggins' parents who fell?"

"I did indeed, Balin."

The tallest dwarf-Dwalin, frowned. "Then the lass...?"

"Had different parents, yes," you answered yourself. You were hardly surprised that this had come up. "Bilbo is not my brother by blood. My own parents were killed by wolves when I was very young," you said. "Bilbo and his parents found me after-after some time and took me in, raising me like their daughter. They were my parents as much as my blood ones were, and Bilbo and I grew up as brother and sister."

But now your brow creased. "And then mother and father died during the Fell Winter, and we have been alone ever since. It changed my brother, that-that incident." You sighed and gave your head a little shake, pushing those thoughts back. "Let me go speak to him. Please excuse me."

You left the room, hearing but ignoring the whispers that broke out behind you. Instead, you found your brother in the next room, pacing over the rug, eyes constantly scanning over the contract. He paused when you entered, and looked over at you.

"You're going to sign it."

"Yes, I am," you said simply.

"Even if I don't?"

"Yes."

Bilbo frowned slightly. "Why?"

"Because..." You bit your lip, hesitating. "Because I-I want to," you said after a moment. "I-I just-"

But Bilbo didn't need any further explanation. He sighed in exasperation and looked at you fondly. He wasn't surprised by your answer at all. You'd always been kind and compassionate that way. He sighed again, looked down at the contract once more, and had only just opened his mouth to speak when the singing started.

The voice was very low, the song slow, and almost immediately you felt a strange saddening sense of nostalgia, and you had no idea why. You hardly dared to breathe and rubbed your arms, not even noticing the goosebumps that had broken out across your skin or the shiver that danced down your spine.

You knew who was singing-only one of the dwarves had a voice like this. For some reason, you wanted to see his face. What kind of expression was he wearing?

As silence fell, Bilbo saw your eyes fall shut, a single tear streaking down your cheek, and felt his heart ache. He was sure he knew what his answer was going to be now-what it had to be...

With plans to depart in the morning, the dwarves took up on various couches and armchairs, some even on the floor, and fell asleep almost immediately. Bilbo nodded off in his own bed, his brow furrowed deeply, and you saw Gandalf off, the old wizard telling you he had some errands to run, but promising he would be back at sunrise.

Left the only one awake, you hunted down some blankets and draped these over the sleeping dwarves.

Satisfied that they would have some warmth, you made yourself some tea, grabbed some biscuits, and went outside, sitting down on the bench in the garden. It was late, but as you'd missed both supper and dinner, you were starving.

It was still nice out, a little chilly, but the tea was warming you. You sat in silence, eating and drinking, admiring the silence of the night. And, still not tired when you finished, you pulled out your pipe and began to smoke.

"May I join you?"

You jumped and then coughed, choking on the smoke. "O-oh! Master Thorin! Of course, please." Regaining your breath, you shifted aside, adjusting the skirt of your frock under you so the dwarf could take a seat beside you.

He did so. "Forgive me, I did not mean to frighten you."

You shook your head. "It's quite all right. Please don't worry about it. I was lost in thought and didn't hear you come out."

Silence fell and Thorin pulled out his own pipe. The leaf he was smoking was different from yours, but their scents mingled together pleasantly. Neither of you said a word and the more time that passed, the deeper the silence became, and you found yourself more and more aware of the dwarf beside you.

He was sitting very close to you on the small bench, his strong, muscled arm touching your much smaller one, sending a jolt through you every time he moved. His long dark and silver hair shifted with him, and you felt a cool bead touch you more than once.

The scent of him, something dark and earthy, enveloped you even over the smell of the burning leaves. His breaths were slow and deep as he inhaled and then exhaled smoke. The hand holding his pipe was large, the fingers thick and adorned with large rings, and-

You were suddenly gazing into bright blue eyes. Then you realized you had been caught staring (which you didn't even notice you were doing), and looked away quickly, feeling your cheeks heat in embarrassment. Having turned your head, you didn't notice the tiny, amused smile that appeared on Thorin's face.

The night passed peacefully...

As the days went on, Thorin's Company, consisting of thirteen dwarves, two hobbits, and one wizard (who denied being part of the Company), travelled further and further away from the Shire. It wasn't an easy journey but, still fairly excited, you didn't mind just yet.

You rode on a pony with the others, glad your allergies weren't as bad as your older brother's, and enjoyed getting to know all the dwarves.

You spent a lot of time exchanging notes and remedies with Oin-the other healer; traded recipes with Bombur; discussed history with Balin; told jokes and played around with Fili, Kili, and Bofur; listened to Nori's many and likely highly embellished stories; answered Ori's many questions; talked about the many teas you had tried with Dori; and listened to Gloin's prideful tales about his wife and son.

There were three dwarves, however, that you had little interaction with.

An old head wound had Bifur unable to communicate in anything other than Khuzdul, which made talking to him kind of awkward, since you couldn't understand one another. Dwalin was rather frightening with all that glaring he did, and didn't speak much as it was. And Thorin...

Thorin had hardly said a word to you since you'd left Bag End. And you found that while Thorin's behaviour seemed normal to everyone else, it hurt.

You didn't understand it at all! The two of you had gotten along just fine when you'd been smoking together the other night, so what changed?

And to make matters even more confusing, you'd noticed that Thorin had the tendency to stare at you when he thought you weren't looking, and often had you sleep between his nephews, as if he had assigned them to guard you.

No, you didn't understand any of this at all...

Trolls. Three huge trolls were standing over the dwarves and hobbits, who'd been bound and shoved into sacks-a few of the dwarves had even been tied to a spit!

Since there apparently weren't enough sacks, some of the others had been forced to share, and you, much to your embarrassment, were stuck in one of these sacks with none other than Thorin Oakenshield himself.

...Oh bother.

You tried your hardest to keep your body weight off of him, but it really was such a strain, and you didn't even know if Thorin noticed your struggle. But you could only find yourself thankful that your sack had been thrown in such a way that had resulted in you being on top. This would be a lot more awkward otherwise.

Not that it wasn't awkward enough as it was.

Even though you were trying to keep yourself off him, Thorin's body was hard under you-hard and big, and the heat that was coming off of him was making you dizzy all on its own.

When Bilbo began speaking to the trolls, you immediately knew your brother was playing for time, and were pleased for the distraction-a distraction that, unfortunately, only lasted mere seconds.

"Stop squirming!" Thorin hissed suddenly. Accompanying these words were the dwarf's big, firm, strong hands clamping down on your hips, pinning you in place on top of him and wait-when did he get his hands free? "Keep still," he said, his voice low and thick.

You froze, feeling your entire body heat, a sharp squeak escaping you when one of Thorin's hands left your hip, moving up your back and to your hair.

You were no innocent fauntling or tween. You knew what the problem here was. You simply thought it might be best to ignore it-especially considering the way Thorin was avoiding your gaze.

Instead, you put your effort into helping your dear brother stall for time...

You were very relieved when the Company reached Rivendell. Not just because you, like Bilbo, had always wanted to come here, but because of the break it gave you all in your journey. You had to admit, thanks to those orcs and wargs that had been killed by the elves, the thrill of adventure had faded somewhat.

But you weren't willing to give up and go home quite yet. It would take far more to frighten you off. Still, you really were happy to be here in Rivendell, even though the dwarves clearly weren't. Well, at least Bilbo was pleased...

You spent the first few days with various elves, all of who seemed content and eager to answer your many questions and teach you more of their tongue. Even Lord Elrond took some time to give you a lesson or two, which was simply amazing.

Evenings however, you always tried to spend with the dwarves in the little area they were using-conversing, laughing, and joking with the dwarves that had warmed up to your presence.

And even here, you could feel Thorin's eyes on you. He didn't speak, just watched, and only when he clearly assumed you couldn't see, or wouldn't see, or wouldn't notice. But you did. He wasn't particularly subtle, but no one else seemed to notice it. How strange.

Thorin's gaze was heavy on your skin, you noticed absently as you laughed at something Bofur said. The intensity in his eyes caused goosebumps to break out over your skin, and you were glad no one was sitting near enough to notice.

The situation wasn't made any better when Thorin joined you for a smoke later that same night, once everyone else had fallen asleep.

That was another thing you noticed he often did-come smoke with you when you could be alone, even though he still barely said a thing to you. He was distancing himself from you, you knew, or at least attempting to, though you didn't understand why.

It wasn't until you were all in Beorn's Halls a number of weeks later that Thorin broke that silence of his. Temporarily, though.

The two of you were sitting in the garden alone, and you were changing his bandages, making sure his wounds were healing properly. That white warg had treated him like a toy, and you could only thank Yavanna that he hadn't been hurt worse than he was.

Right now he sat on the grass, his tunic off, with you settled before him, your warm hands on his chest as you dressed his wounds. You were quiet for some time, which wasn't odd seeing as Thorin was quiet in general, and you were focused on your task.

"How often do your skills as a healer come of use in the Shire?"

You jolted in place, caught off guard by the sudden words, but relaxed quickly enough and glanced up at Thorin's face with a wry smile.

"About as often as you're thinking, I would assume," you said plainly. "Most of the injured I see to are fauntlings-children who played a little too rough, or someone injured while farming, or punched for harassing a barmaid, or the likes."

Thorin regarded you closely, though you kept your eyes on the bandages you were binding around his chest. "Does your learning of such a skill have to do with what happened to your parents, blood or otherwise?"

You froze in place. This was not a question you'd expected to hear-not even one that you'd been asked before. "...Yes," you said quietly. "In truth, I know that there was nothing I could have done for them, ability as a healer or not. I was very young when I lost my blood parents-young enough that I have few memories of them."

"You use the name Baggins."

"I do. I was raised as one, after all. There was nothing special about my family, and I was told that whatever they left behind was stolen before it could be accounted for, let alone brought to me." You gave him another wry smile. "Not all hobbits are kind, polite, and well-spoken. Some-some can be quite cruel, as those in any race."

Thorin appeared as if he had no idea what to say. You couldn't blame him. You didn't even know why you had said half of what you did. This wasn't something you spoke of on a whim like this. What had gotten into you today?

When you finished bandaging Thorin's chest and looked up to tell him he could put his tunic back on, you found that he was looking at you again. But this time, his blue eyes were soft, the expression on his face surprisingly tender.

Just what was going on in that mind of his...?

You hated Mirkwood. No, hate wasn't a strong enough word. You loathed this forest. You knew both Beorn and Gandalf had warned you all of this place, but this was far worse than anything you'd been expecting.

You hadn't been afraid of the dark since you'd been very young, but the darkness in this place terrified you. Days were horrible enough on their own, but nights were so much worse. You knew that as the days passed, you weren't the only one beginning to feel as if you were losing your mind.

You lit no fires at night, thanks to the moths and bats, hardly slept, barely spoke, and six days after crossing the Enchanted River, ran out of food. Nothing wholesome grew, the plants all odd colours and poisonous. The only animals you came across were strange black squirrels. After many failed attempts, Kili managed to shoot one and Bombur cooked it up, but it was disgusting, foul, rotted from the inside. You didn't try it again...

Nearly three weeks passed, though none of you were aware of it, too far gone to keep track of the days. The Company stopped for the night to rest, but you found yourself unable to sleep, despite your exhaustion.

Every time you would manage to nod off, you would have terrifying dreams that would have you waking abruptly, panting and shaking with fear. You didn't know how many times this happened tonight before someone finally took notice of your increased restlessness.

A large hand landed on your arm, making you practically jump out of your skin. You whipped around, but it wasn't like you could see who it was. You couldn't even see your own hands in front of your face when the darkness of night settled in this place.

"Shh, it's me, (Y/N). Calm yourself."

You relaxed instantly, recognizing the voice immediately. "T-Thorin...?" You turned and leaned into him without thought. "Thorin..."

He brought his arms around you, drawing you in close, no doubt because it was so dark you couldn't see his face. "Shh, I have you."

You shut your eyes tight, though it made no difference, and buried your face in Thorin's chest, trying to focus on his touch, his scent, his voice, and nothing else. You didn't sleep again that night.

Thorin didn't either.

One of the last things you had ever expected to happen to you was to be imprisoned by elves. And yet, here you were, locked alone in a cell in King Thranduil's Halls. The dwarves were locked up too, all thirteen of them. The only one from you who was free (aside from Gandalf, who'd left you before you'd entered Mirkwood), was Bilbo.

You didn't know what happened to your brother, didn't know how he'd managed to get away, didn't know where he was, didn't even know if he was alive or dead-though you hoped to Yavanna it was the former.

Your eyes strayed to Thorin, who was locked in the cell across yours. He'd slumped to the ground and was glaring at the wall as if it had offended him. He'd argued with the elf-king, who was just as stubborn as he was, and the results of that were to be expected.

It didn't look as if you were ever going to get out of here...

By Mahal, again!? Thorin thought incredulously. It was bad enough that they were locked in these damned cells, so why did that elf have to keep coming down here too?

Thorin sat on the stone floor of his cell, eyes narrowed and focused on the cell directly across his own. The cell you were locked in alone. Except, you weren't alone right now. The elf had come to speak to you again-to teach you more of his tongue.

Thorin didn't know whether to be amused or disgusted by the elf prince. What he did know, however, was that if this-this Legolas continued making you smile and laugh like that, he was going to throttle someone.

You were beyond relieved when Bilbo finally revealed himself, and then terrified when you put his plan into action. You really didn't like water-most hobbits didn't. Bilbo wasn't particularly fond of water either, but he was right in claiming you had to escape now.

This could very well be your only chance. You couldn't let the opportunity slip past you. Not here. Not when you had come this far...

As it turned out, the escape wasn't as bad as you were expecting. No, it was far worse. Worse enough that it was a miracle you all survived. And even that was a very-no extremely close call.

Kili was struck by a Morgul arrow, only surviving because Legolas healed him. Legolas had saved Kili's life. And now you were in Esgaroth, being aided, albeit reluctantly, by Bard the Bowman. He'd brought you to his house where he lived with his three children, mainly because Kili, though healed, required proper rest.

You weren't willing to allow Kili to be left behind, and had threatened to punch Thorin in the face if he even entertained the notion. Dwalin was quite amused to hear that, though he didn't say anything.

Besides, Kili only needed a few days of rest and you still had enough days until Durin's Day before you really had to worry...

While Bard didn't seem to care much for the dwarves, he didn't appear to mind having you and Bilbo around. Perhaps that was simply because you weren't dwarves. You couldn't really blame him for that.

After being welcomed by the Master of Lake-Town, the Company gathered and prepared what you needed so that you would be ready to go the moment Kili could travel safely.

And about a week after you arrived in Esgaroth, you found yourself sitting on the dock behind Bard's house on a chilly evening. It wasn't quite late enough to sleep just yet, but the house really just had too many bodies in it right now, and you needed the fresh air.

It was quiet out here, surprisingly so, but you didn't mind that at all. Preferred it, in fact. You would have loved to have a smoke, but had lost your pipe and leaf pouch weeks or possibly months ago. You didn't even know anymore.

Oh well. You were content enough to enjoy the peace while you had it, even when Thorin ended up joining you again, sitting with you in silence, for you knew it wasn't going to last. It never did.

You made it to Erebor, found and opened the secret door, and heard of Smaug's death after the fearsome dragon flew off to Lake-Town (you tried not to think about how many people had died thanks to you all).

Things should have been better now that you had succeeded in your quest. But they weren't. Not in the slightest.

Thorin had changed. Changed so much. Changed too much. It was the goldsickness, you knew. The name had been brought up more than once in the journey-it was something you'd been warned about by multiple people.

Thorin had brushed these warnings aside, always claiming there was no reason to worry. Always claiming that he wouldn't be affected by it like his grandfather or father had been. Always claiming that he was stronger than that, stronger than them.

But now Thorin had succumbed to the goldsickness as well, and it changed everything for all of you.

Perhaps that was how you found yourself in King Thranduil's tent in Dale, crying in your brother's arms as the homesickness hit you full force for the first time on this long journey.

Bilbo had confessed that he was the one to give Bard the Arkenstone, which resulted in him essentially being kicked out of Erebor. But with the way Thorin had treated Bilbo, the other twelve dwarves, Fili and Kili in particular, decided that it would be best if you left too-for your safety. You would be safer with your brother, and Gandalf. And though it pained you to admit it, and even more to leave, you really couldn't help but agree.

And so you left too, following the others to Dale, only to break down crying once you reached the relative privacy of King Thranduil's tent. Bilbo took hold of you immediately, drawing you into his arms and comforting you in the same way he used to do when you'd been a child and first brought in by your new family.

The others in the tent remained silent as they watched Bilbo soothe you, though they seemed unsure of what to say themselves. Bilbo himself just seemed surprised the homesickness hadn't hit you earlier.

You were rather surprised yourself, if you were being honest.

It was a battle-no, a war. There were armies, five of them, all of them fighting. And amongst all this chaos, you found yourself alone.

You were certainly no fighter, but even you were taking part in this battle. You had no choice. If you didn't, you would end up dead. And of course, you wished to avoid such a terrible outcome.

But more than that, you couldn't possibly sit around doing nothing while those you cared about risked their lives. Not just your brother Bilbo, but the dwarves, and Gandalf, and Bard, and Legolas, and King Thranduil too.

So you fought too-fought hard, remembering everything the dwarves had taught you. The method you used didn't matter to you in the slightest, so long as it kept you and the men, elves, and dwarves around you safe.

"(Y/N)!"

Recognizing the voice instantly and having missed it immensely, you killed the orc in front of you and whipped around. "Thorin!?" You saw a flash of blue, and suddenly you were off your feet, causing you to release a cry of surprise.

You were in the middle of a battlefield, death and destruction all around you, but somehow, you and Thorin found one another. With a strong arm, Thorin had lifted you right up off the ground, holding you up by the waist. Though he still had a tight grip on Orcrist with his other hand, Thorin's eyes were locked onto yours.

Despite your surroundings, and despite the obvious fact that you were both filthy and exhausted, Thorin was looking at you as if seeing-actually seeing you for the first time. He looked at you as if he had never seen anything or anyone more beautiful and precious than the way he was seeing you now.

"Thorin...?"

His gaze intensified, and then he closed the distance between you and kissed you for the first time, heat exploding in both your bellies at the soft touch.

You shouldn't have been doing this-not now, not here. But you were. You cupped Thorin's face and deepened the kiss, swallowing his groan.

And it was beyond perfect.

Did this really have to happen? Tonight of all nights too?

You were in bed-had only just settled in after what'd been a long, exhausting day, and all you wanted to do was sleep. Unfortunately, it appeared as if sleep was going to be eluding you tonight.

It was thundering out.

You hated night time thunderstorms. They scared you-always had, even back home in your own world.

You still didn't know how it happened. How you'd ended up here at all.

Having finished your obligations for the day, you were free earlier than usual and decided to go for a walk in the nearby park. It was a nice day in April-not too hot or too cold Everything was perfectly normal.

Well, at first.

As you reached the end of the path, one you knew quite well, there was a bright flash of light and then...well, you found yourself lost in the middle of absolutely nowhere.

You eventually learned that you were in the Shire, met Gandalf, Bilbo, and a whole host of dwarves and then, before you knew it, were roped into taking part in their 'quest'.

You went with them, travelling across Middle earth with them, going through intense trial after trial and meeting many fascinating people.

One of those people was King Thranduil.

When you and the dwarves were locked up in the cells in his kingdom (Bilbo hidden with the use of his weird magic ring), Thranduil took an interest in you, perhaps because you were the only woman in their group-a human woman, at that, and one who definitely wasn't from anywhere around here.

He came to you in the cell you were locked in and then began asking you questions, more about yourself than the quest. After spending some time talking to you through the bars, he ended up entering the cell and continued on from there, much to the displeasure of the dwarves, who not only hated elves but had grown rather protective over you as well over the past few months.

And after reclaiming Erebor, after Smaug's defeat, after the end of the Battle of Five Armies, after Thorin, Fili, and Kili began to fully heal, you'd been unsure of what to do.

The dwarves finally had their home back, and Bilbo was finally going back to his own, but your own home was nowhere near here, wasn't in Middle earth at all. And you had no way of going back, weren't even sure if it was possible. So where could you go now? Where would you live now? What would you do now?

The dwarves were adamant that you remain with them in the mountain, but you couldn't. There were just...too many bad memories there (Smaug, the goldsickness, Bilbo's banishment, the war). No, this wasn't a place you could live, regardless of how much you loved the dwarves.

And that was when Thranduil approached you. He invited you back to his kingdom, asked you to stay with him for a while, for as long as you wanted, really. With no reason to refuse, and curious to learn more about the elf-king, you agreed and simply never left.

Three years had gone by since then...

You jolted at a bright flash of lightning, and then sighed. You didn't mind thunderstorms during the day-just at night, especially when you were trying to sleep. It was an irrational fear, you knew, but you still couldn't help it.

You curled up on your side. It didn't help matters that you were alone right now. Argh, why today!? You grabbed a pillow and brought it to your chest, cuddling it close, noticing you were trembling a little, but unable to stop doing so either.

You were never going to get any sleep...

"(Y/N)?"

"Gah!" You jolted up in bed and without thought, threw the pillow you'd been holding at the tall, slender shadow that had come up behind you and called out your name.

There was a low chuckle, the pillow caught easily, and now you knew who this was. "Thranduil!? Why do you keep sneaking up on me like that!? What if I'd thrown my dagger at you instead of a pillow? I could have really hurt you!"

Thranduil laughed again and then knelt on the large bed, drawing closer to you. "You would not have harmed me, little one. You know that as well as I do."

You huffed, exasperated, and then gasped sharply as there was another bright flash of lightning, automatically reaching out to Thranduil.

He met you halfway, catching and pulling you close. He soothed you gently, running his fingers up and down your back. He was well acquainted with your odd fear of thunderstorms at this point, so he knew exactly what was wrong, even without asking.

"I thought you weren't going to be coming to bed tonight?" you said quietly, trying to keep yourself distracted. The less you focused on the thunder, the better.

"Hmm, the incident was settled quickly," said Thranduil, dragging his long fingers through your hair. "I would not have it any other way tonight."

You understood what he wasn't saying, and felt yourself flush. Your lover had been busy, but then had noticed the storm. Remembering your fear, Thranduil had finished things quickly, simply so he could return to you for the night.

It was an unexpected show of concern from him, but one you appreciated more than you could probably ever convey.

"What has you so pleased, little one?"

"Huh?"

"You're smiling."

Were you? You hadn't noticed at all, though you supposed you couldn't help yourself. How could you, when Thranduil was showing you his soft side again? He generally kept that side of him hidden under an icy façade, only revealing it during rare, private moments.

You couldn't blame him, though you wished he would open up a little more often around you. Still, you treasured these moments greatly.

Your smile only widened, and you pressed yourself against Thranduil's chest, enjoying the warmth he gave off. "You're too good to me," you murmured, nuzzling him.

"Am I indeed?" Thranduil was smiling now too-it was audible in his voice. He released you for a moment so he could shrug out of his robes and undress partially. He joined you in the bed again after that, laying down and wasting no time before he pulled you into his arms again, holding you close.

You cuddled up as close to him as you possibly could, squeezing your eyes shut as there was another loud rumble of thunder.

Thranduil stroked your hair in answer, whispering comforting words to you in an effort to soothe and calm you. And even when he stopped speaking, he went on stroking your hair. Obviously, he remembered you saying how much you liked it when he did that.

Regardless, you were beyond glad Thranduil had gone through the trouble of finishing things quickly just for you. With him here-with him holding you close, enveloping you in his warmth and wintery scent, you couldn't focus on the storm now even if you wanted to.

"Sleep now, precious girl. You needn't fear the wrath of the storm while I am here with you."

You were dreaming again, you realized immediately.

You were in a beautiful clearing, lush greenery, grass, trees, bushes, colourful flowers, and even a spring with clean, cool water. That in itself was enough to tell you that this was a dream, but there was more to it than that.

You weren't alone. With you was a (Creature? Being? Race?) male you now knew was an elf. You didn't know that until he explained it to you, something he'd really only had to do because elves didn't exactly exist in your world. Well, other than in fiction, but that didn't count, did it?

It was quite confusing at first, but then you woke up and dismissed the strange conversation you'd just had with an even odder stranger as nothing more than an odd dream. Nothing weird about that, right? Bizarre dreams weren't exactly rare, after all. You'd had plenty of them over the course of your life.

But then it happened again. And again. And again. And again. You didn't understand it at all at first. You weren't a lucid dreamer. You knew what they were, of course, but had never actually had one yourself. Until now, you thought.

One dream would have been fine, understandable even, hardly surprising, but they just kept happening. And because these dreams kept happening, because you kept ending up in this clearing with that elf, the two of you simply made the best out of the strange situation, and began to speak to one another.

You learned his name was Legolas, learned he was a prince, learned he was from a place called Middle earth, and eventually learned his language too. You returned the information as well, of course, telling him about yourself, just as he told you about himself. You told him your name, told him where you lived, told him about your life. And you just talked.

These dreams (Encounters?) went on fairly frequently for a couple of years, taking place at least two or three times a week, and you and Legolas quickly became close friends. Neither of you knew or understood why this was happening, weren't even sure the other actually even existed, but neither of you was complaining.

You took solace in the dreams-in one another. There was a peaceful comfort that existed between the two of you, one you both cherished more than anything.

And today was just another one of those days.

Legolas was seated on the ground, leaning back against the trunk of a large tree, your head in his lap as you lay on the grass. You'd been in this dream for some time now, certainly longer than usual, and for once had run out of things to talk about, at least for now. But the silence between you was comfortable, peaceful even, so neither of you particularly minded.

It didn't come as a surprise to either of you when the image of the clearing around you began to shimmer. Your time today finally appeared to be up.

Legolas broke the silence first. "It seems we must part again."

You nodded, despite Legolas' words having been incredibly obvious (you'd gotten used to him being a bit of a Captain Obvious). You sat up, then faced him. "F...fu..." Your brow furrowed as you tried to remember one of the many phrases he'd taught you over your visits. "Ah! Fuin vaer, Legolas." (good night)

Legolas laughed, seeming both amused and pleased, and leaned in to press a gentle kiss to your forehead. "Losto vae, (Y/N)." (sleep well)

There was no time to say anything more before the dream came to an end...

Three days went by with no dreams.

After a very busy, cloudy day, you finally made it home. You were craving some chocolate, wanted something particularly unhealthy to drink, and were desperate for a bath.

Unfortunately for you, you didn't get to do any of those things.  No, instead, you found yourself losing consciousness and then regaining it-

"Where am I and why am I outside?"

"You're in the Shire, but I'm afraid I can't tell you why you're outside," said a voice in response.

You sat up quickly, surprised because you hadn't actually been expecting an answer, and looked at the person who'd spoken, only to spot something you'd never expected to see. Ever.

"A-are you a hobbit?" you asked before you could stop yourself. Legolas, of course, was the one who'd told you about them, and this person in front of you definitely fit the description he'd once given you.

Said person blinked. "Yes?" It was clear he hadn't been expecting such a...random question. You couldn't blame him. "Um, are you lost?" he asked half a moment later.

"...If I'm really in the Shire, then yes, I'm very definitely lost."

And so the hobbit, who introduced himself as Frodo, took you home with him where he lived with his uncle Bilbo (who you actually knew of, thanks to Legolas), hoping he might be able to help you.

Much to your dismay, however, he couldn't. Luckily, Bilbo felt bad enough for you that he let you stay with him and Frodo at Bag End, so at least you had somewhere to live.

You hoped you would have another one of those 'dreams', so that you could tell Legolas that you'd somehow ended up in Middle earth. Perhaps he would be able to come to you. Perhaps you would finally be able to meet in person.

But as the days turned to weeks, and the weeks to months, you didn't have even a single one of those dream encounters. You didn't end up in that clearing again, and you didn't see Legolas again. It worried you, it really did. You'd been having these dreams for nearly three years now. So why did they stop so suddenly?

Had something happened to Legolas? Or had the 'dreams' stopped because you were now in Middle earth? It was hard to know-impossible, really, though you hoped it was the latter, and that Legolas was alright and safe...

You lived in the Shire for six months before you left your new, peaceful home with Frodo, Sam, Merry, and Pippin.

Frodo had told you all about Bilbo's adventure and his ring (some of which you already knew), but finding out the magic ring was really the One Ring (and what that actually entailed), was beyond unexpected and shocking.

Your required journey to Bree was as terrifying as it was dangerous, and your dread at discovering Gandalf wasn't where he'd promised he would be was honestly just as bad.

When you encountered Strider, you were a little suspicious at first. Legolas had told you about Strider, as the two were close friends, but though his appearance seemed to match what you recalled being told, how could you be sure this man really was Strider and not just someone pretending to be him?

While the hobbits slept fitfully after the nazgul attack at the Prancing Pony, you got the answer you were looking for and surprisingly, it was Strider himself who gave it to you.

The two of you were keeping watch, neither of you willing to sleep, albeit for different reasons, when Strider, apologizing for being blunt, asked if you were from somewhere other than Middle earth.

You weren't particularly surprised by the question. You stood out a fair bit, some ways more obvious than others, but still, Strider didn't stop there.

"I only ask because you have many resemblances to a woman I have been told much about. Not just in face, but in name and behaviour as well."

You blinked, somewhat startled by the words, but relaxed quickly enough, kind of embarrassed that Legolas had been telling people about you. Still, you wanted to make sure. "The person who told you this, was it Legolas?"

Strider shot you a rare-looking grin. "It was, yes. Am I right then? You are (Y/N)?"

"That depends. Are you Aragorn son of Arathorn?" And when he began to laugh, you couldn't help but join in.

Both of you now had the answer on whether or not the other could be trusted...

You found a good friend in Strider (as he insisted on being called at present), and your trust in him helped calm the hobbits somewhat, which helped the situation a little, so none of you really questioned the man when he informed you all that he was taking you to Rivendell.

Your journey there was even worse than your journey to Bree. The nazgul not only managed to track you down, but attack Frodo as well. The injury was horrible. You knew a bit of what to expect, as Legolas had told you about when he'd healed the youngest dwarf prince of a similar wound. That one had been bad. This one was much worse.

But then Arwen arrived and took Frodo away with her which, despite the danger, was likely the best thing that could have happened. And a few days later the rest of you, thankfully, managed to reach Rivendell safely too.

Once told Frodo was healing and asleep, you bathed, ate, and then got some rest yourselves. You all desperately needed it.

The night before the Council of Elrond, you, unable to sleep, wandered up to a tall hill-a fantastic place for stargazing, and settled down on the grass, adjusting the skirt of the dress you were wearing under you.

It was a little chilly out, which wasn't surprising considering it was the end of October, but you didn't really mind. It actually felt kind of nice. And though you'd been trying to avoid it, it didn't take you very long to fall into your tumultuous thoughts.

You'd been in this world, in Middle earth for just over half a year now and you still had no idea how or why it'd happened. Were you ever going to be able to go back home? Honestly speaking, there really was no way of knowing.

It wasn't as if you disliked this place or anything like that. Middle earth was just so...different. It wasn't a place that was easy to get used to, especially coming from a world as modern and convenient as yours. Would you learn the truth behind your arrival in this world one day? You hoped so.

Ugh. You dropped your head to your drawn knees and released a groan of displeasure. Maybe it would be best if you just headed to bed. Thinking about all this was making your head hurt.

"What brings a young maiden up here on her own on such a dark and lovely night?"

You froze, and then pinched yourself sharply. You were awake. But that voice-! You grinned. You knew that voice! You turned. "Na vedui. I've been waiting for this, Ernil nin." (at last/my prince)

Blue eyes wide, Legolas knelt down before you and cupped your face in his hands, clearly in disbelief. "Iston i nif gin." (I know your face)

You couldn't keep the smile off your face. "I would hope so! We've only been friends for what?-three years?"

Legolas' expression lightened even further and his thumbs stroked over your cheekbones. "(Y/N)..." he all but whispered, sounding almost...awed. "How is this possible? How have you managed to come here?"

"I really don't know," you said with a shake of your head as Legolas took your hands in his. "It just kind of...happened." And you explained everything to him.

Legolas listened to you patiently, his eyes on yours, grip on your hands tight. It was only once you were finished that he spoke.

"I'm afraid I have no answers for you. It's certainly a very strange situation-one that should be impossible." With zero hesitation, he pulled you into his arms. "It is...selfish of me to say this, but I'm pleased to have you here with me, Sadril." (loyal one)

It was pretty selfish of you too, but you found that you couldn't help but agree.

"Are you sure you are willing to take such a risk?"

You and Legolas were seated on your bed in the room you were staying in. The Council of Elrond had come to an end a little while ago and the Fellowship of the Ring had been chosen (Volunteered?) and Legolas wasn't entirely content with how things concluded.

You had chosen to become a member of the Fellowship. Legolas knew and understood that doing this was, ultimately, your choice, but he couldn't help but be worried. How could he not be?

"I am. I want to do this, Legolas. I want to help. I know it isn't safe for me, but that doesn't mean that it's safe for the hobbits, or Gandalf, or Gimli, or Boromir, or Aragorn. And it certainly doesn't mean that it will be safe for you."

Legolas blinked, clearly caught off guard by your words. Then he sighed deeply and ran his fingers through your hair. "You have reason," he said quietly. "Our journey won't be safe, not for anyone, and if the hobbits will be taking part, then I suppose there is no reason why you should not." He sighed again, then gently pressed his lips to your forehead.

And as he did this, he told himself that he would teach you to fight, teach you to defend yourself. And at the same time, he promised himself-vowed to himself that he was going to do everything in his power to make sure you stayed safe on the journey-stayed alive.

Weeks later, Legolas found that he was glad that he had taught you how to fight.

The journey had been even worse than you'd been expecting, and not just because of the constant battles. It was horrible to lose Gandalf, and a great relief to get him back. But Boromir...Boromir was gone, and wasn't ever coming back.

For a while you'd all been separated, some going one way, others another, and some yet going in a completely different direction. And then, just a few weeks later, though it felt like far longer, those who remained of the Fellowship of the Ring were finally able to reunite.

You were in Gondor, the war having ended, Sauron having been defeated. Frodo was safe, unconscious, but healing. The hobbits stayed at Frodo's side as often as they could, talking amongst themselves and exchanging information.

Aragorn spent a lot of his time with Gandalf and Lord Elrond, preparing to be crowned king. Gimli was content to remain with any and all of them, so long as he could indulge in food and drink.

And of course, as was expected, you and Legolas spent most of your time alone together, just the two of you.

Today was no different.

You were in one of Gondor's many bedroom chambers, seated on the bed. There was no point in trying to remember or figure out whose room this had initially been. Tou were sharing it now-had been for days at this point.

You were speaking quietly, discussing your chances for going back home to your own world and where you could go and stay if it turned out you really couldn't leave Middle earth at all, something that was entirely possible, as far as you all knew.

"I could go back to the Shire, but the hobbits there, the other ones, not our four, didn't like me very much," you were saying. "Aragorn's told me I can just stay here, which I'm definitely considering. I mean, he's here, and I'd also love to talk to Faramir more. Even Lord Elrond has told me I can stay in Rivendell, but I just..." you trailed off, shrugging helplessly.

Legolas was quiet for a moment, his eyes on you, seemingly in thought, considering something. And then, after what appeared to be a moment of debate, he spoke. "Tolo ar nin." When you just blinked, he smiled and repeated himself confidently. "Tolo ar nin, (Y/N)." (come with me)

You stared, unsure of why those words surprised you so much when you certainly should have been expecting them. "But-but I thought you weren't going home yet?" you said with a frown.

"I'm not," Legolas agreed. "Not yet. I still have much I wish to do, much I wish to see, and there is also a promise I made to Gimli that I wish to keep. And I would be very happy to have you with me."

"Are you sure you won't just get tired of me?" you asked, head cocked curiously. "You know I'm not always the best travel companion."

But Legolas shook his head. "How could I ever tire of the one I love?"

"...Eh?"

Legolas smiled again and gently took your hands in his larger, softer ones. "Le melin, (Y/N). I have been meaning to say those words to you for well over a year now." (i love you)

"A-are you serious?"

His smile widened. "O ýr." (of course)

And now you couldn't help the grin that stretched across your face. You moved in closer, all but crawling onto his lap. "A le melin, Legolas," you said softly. "Guess I've been meaning to tell you that for a while too." (and i love you)

Legolas laughed lightly, bringing his arms around you to hold you in place against him, you happily returning the gentle, warm, comforting embrace.

You didn't need a place to call home, you realized suddenly. All you really needed was Legolas. That was home enough for you.

He didn't like you at first. Not really.

The day started off average, if not a little boring. With Lord Elrond and his warriors off on a hunt, there wasn't much for Lindir, the Lord's attendant, to do. It was a bit strange, but he supposed he didn't really mind the rare free time.

But just two hours after coming to this conclusion, Lindir's life ended up changing forever.

Lord Elrond and the other warriors returned (quicker than expected too), and as always, Lindir hurried over to aid his Lord as he dismounted his horse. But as he approached, he spotted something a little odd.

Lord Elrond was carrying a child. A young child of man, a girl who couldn't have been any older than two. You were still and quiet, lying fast asleep in the Lord's arms.

"My Lord? Who-?"

Lord Elrond asked for another to take care of his horse, then gestured for Lindir to follow him as he began to walk to his own rooms. "I do not know her name," he said calmly. "We discovered a small village in the process of being destroyed-she was there."

"Destroyed by the orcs?"

Lord Elrond inclined his head. "We killed the orcs, but the village folk were slaughtered. We searched the huts, but there were no survivors. None save for her."

"She is injured?"

"She is, but I have not had the chance to see to her yet. I only hope she has not been poisoned by an orc blade."

Lindir had seen that before. The race of men often had a difficult time recovering from that. But he said nothing, instead helping his Lord lay you down, undress you, clean you, heal you, redress you, and then properly settle you in the bed.

And then Lindir found himself alone in the room with you, his Lord having requested he stay while he himself tended to other urgent business.

Silently, Lindir lowered down to the edge of the bed, his eyes on you, though you were still fast asleep and oblivious to his presence.

They didn't know your name, but you were very small, your skin (S/C), and your hair (H/C). Lindir had not seen such a small child for years now, not since Estel had come to Imladris. But even then, even compared to how small Estel had been, you were just so...tiny.

Lindir didn't like you. You were so talkative, were constantly asking questions, and could never seem to sit still, not even for a moment. Even Estel hadn't been this bad!

Lord Elrond had, of course, assured him that you were just going through a phase. That as you grew just a little older, your behaviour would change. He told him that most children that age, regardless of their race, behaved that way. He told him that Elladan, Elrohir, and Arwen had all been like that, and that Lindir himself had been just as bad (which Lindir could not believe at all).

So Lindir tried to be patient. Tried to answer your many questions, and at the same time, tried to teach you how to conduct yourself. But it was harder than it sounded.

You were still so young, barely four years old now, and had little inclination to actually listen to him, much to Lindir's despair, as it was now part of his duties to see to you, now that Lord Elrond had taken you into his family, treating you as a daughter.

Naturally, Lindir wasn't the only one taking care of and spending time with you. Lord Elrond spent what time he could with you, and both of you seemed to enjoy when he read to you. You were always guaranteed to be laughing when you were with Elladan and Elrohir, and you simply adored Arwen, who felt the exact same way about you.

Estel was no longer a constant presence in Imladris, but visited often enough, and you hardly left his side when he returned, always climbing his long, lean body, and laughing loudly when you would cling to his arm and he would swing you around.

On one hand, Lindir was content to see you so happy, but on the other hand, it...bothered him that you were always so eager to get away from him to be with others. But you were just a little girl, he told himself. It wasn't as if you understood that he was trying to help you, right?

A little while after you turned six, just four short years after you were brought to Imladris, Lindir found that Lord Elrond had been right.

While still very inquisitive, you were far quieter and complacent than you'd been merely two years ago. You listened a little more to Lindir now too, much to his immense relief...

Today found Elrond, Lindir, and you in the Lord's study, the elves discussing a possible future orc hunt, while you were trying to read a book of fairy stories. And then there was a knock on the door and whoever was outside was called in. The door opened and the moment it did-

"Estel!" You leapt out of your seat and all but tackled him as he walked in, causing Lindir to suppress a smile at the sight.

Estel caught you easily, and lifted you up so you were face to face. "Hello, Ithil nin. Did you miss me?" (my moon)

"Yeah! Mae tollen na mar," you greeted cheerfully, kissing him on the cheek. (welcome home)

Smiling, Estel moved to the chair you'd been occupying and sat down, setting you on his lap. "Manen le?" (how are you)

"Im meren," you said promptly. (I'm happy)

"Oh?"

You beamed, nuzzling his scruffy jaw. "Because you're back!"

"Speaking of," Lord Elrond cut in with a slight frown. "When did you return?"

"An hour ago. I wanted to...bathe first."

Before anyone could say anything, you looked up at Estel in accusation. "Liar! You were kissing Arwen again, weren't you!?"

And as Lord Elrond blinked in surprise and Estel stared, clearly trying not to laugh, Lindir choked on his saliva and struggled not to cough. By the Valar, you were bold!

The years continued to pass and Lindir observed you grow, change, and mature. You weren't as loud and rowdy anymore, but your curiosity still hadn't faded. No one expected it to either.

But there was a particular change Lindir was going through himself. He didn't know what this change was, didn't understand it, and had absolutely no idea how to put it into words. So he didn't. He never said a word about it, preferring to keep it to himself instead.

When you were sixteen, Arwen took you with her to Lothlorien to visit Lady Galadriel and Lord Celeborn, who you hadn't yet had the chance to meet. You weren't gone for long-just a year, yet Lindir found that year pass at the rate of a century.

He'd spent so much of the last fourteen years with you, and now that you were gone and his duties regarding you were temporarily absolved, he just...didn't know what to do. He missed you. Immensely. But he didn't tell anyone that either.

And then, as planned, you and Arwen returned a year later. Lindir was happy to have you back, very happy, until he learned that while you'd been gone, you'd developed feelings for another elf-for Haldir, Lorien's Marchwarden.

Lindir was jealous. He realized it immediately, but this too he kept to himself.

He must not have done a very good job at hiding it, because it wasn't long before Estel approached him, causally assuring him that what you felt for Haldir was nothing but a passing fancy. It was normal for girls of your age, he said, and soon enough someone else would catch your eye.

Estel was right. Barely six months later, whatever you'd felt for Haldir was gone, replaced with a fancy for a particular dwarf (much to Lindir's horror), who'd been passing with his Company.

Lindir was very relieved when that specific fancy faded.

The years continued on and things continued to change. Middle earth was becoming darker. It could be felt almost everywhere, and the shadow of darkness would pass over Imladris at times as well. But Lindir hardly noticed because he had you, had his sun, who shined brightly in the darkness, warding it away.

You were a woman now, intelligent and strong. And Lindir was in love with you, he admitted to himself. But he didn't tell you-couldn't tell you.

Estel's visits were becoming more and more infrequent, and Elladan and Elrohir were spending more time slaying orcs than they did at home, and with Lord Elrond and Arwen both growing more solemn as the days went by, you and Lindir spent much of your time together.

To Lindir, it was both torture and relief. Torture that he couldn't bring himself to tell you the truth, and relief that you seemed to enjoy spending time with him regardless of what you both did or said.

What you were doing today was no different than usual. The weather was nice, so you were walking through Imladris' gardens, talking casually of nothing of importance. You didn't want to discuss the growing darkness. Not today.

So you just walked, and talked, and as you did so, you gently ran a hand over the flowers you walked past, enjoying the feel of the soft petals against your fingertips.

Everything was going perfectly fine until you snatched your hand away from the rose bush with a sharp gasp of pain.

Lindir turned to you instantly, brow drawn in concern. "Lady (Y/N)?"

You looked up at him, smiling reassuringly. "Just a scratch," you told him, showing him a bloodied finger. "I wasn't paying attention to the thorns on the roses."

But Lindir frowned and shook his head, practically grabbing your hand. "No, we must clean and dress this quickly." He nearly dragged you along with him as he made his way back inside.

"It's just a scratch, Lindir!" you protested. "It isn't-!"

"Even small wounds can become infected. Your father should have taught you that."

"He did, I know, but even ada wouldn't-"

Lindir sat you down into a chair, lowered to his knees before you, took your hand again, and began tending to the injury. You watched him in silence.

You knew why he was so panicked. This happened every single time you got hurt. It was because you were mortal. Mortal and of the race of man. There were so many ways you could die, ways elves never even had to think about, let alone consider or worry about.

But there was more to it than that, you thought. More to it in a way you hoped you were understanding properly. So, you just watched.

Lindir finished dressing the small scratch a mere moment later, but he didn't pull away. Instead, he raised your hand and pressed a gentle kiss to the bandaged finger. He didn't even realize he'd done it, so habitual that it was.

Kissing a wound to make it feel better was one of the very, very few things you were able to remember of your actual parents. It was something they always did for you, you'd once claimed not long after you'd been brought to Imladris, and so Lord Elrond had begun to do it too. And not just the Lord, but Elladan, Elrohir, Arwen, Estel, and even Lindir himself did so.

Of course, when you'd grown older, you'd learned that kissing the wound didn't really help in the healing much at all, and though it certainly would not have mattered very much if they stopped, none of them did. All for one very simple reason: it never failed to make you smile.

And that was exactly what happened when Lindir did this now. You smiled, and the sight lightened his heart. Satisfied, he made to pull away, but was stopped almost immediately.

"Lindir."

He paused as he was, still down before you, still holding your hand. He looked up, but his words caught in his throat. You were still smiling, expression soft and almost serene. The sun was shining in through the window behind you, making your (H/C) hair gleam brightly.

You reached out with your free hand and brushed his hair back behind his ear before cupping his cheek. "Lindir... Le melin, Lindir." (i love you)

Lindir blinked, startled by the words. He couldn't speak, but you didn't seem to mind.

"It's been a few years since I realized it," you continued softly. You smiled again. "I didn't really understand it until Arwen explained it all to me, but I wasn't ready to tell you then. I guess I was ready now? I didn't really plan to say it, honestly. It kind of slipped out. That doesn't mean I don't mean it though."

Lindir blinked again, and before he knew it, he'd pulled you into a tight embrace. "Le melin, (Y/N)," he said gently. "I too have wished to tell you for years." Now he laughed lightly, unable to help himself, feeling almost giddy with relief. "I find I can't even bring myself to be surprised that it's you who first garnered the courage to say those words."

"Well, that's all right," you said, bringing your arms around him so you could hold him as tightly as he was you. "We've both said them now."

That was true. You knew of one another's feelings, had no reason to hide them, but even then, there were going to be problems. Too many to count, too many to consider. You had one another now, but for how long?

"You'll stay with me, right?" you said, your voice just barely audible.

"Yes, of course I will," said Lindir instantly. He had no inclination to leave you. Not ever.

"Gwestol?" (promise)

"Gweston, Anor nin." (I promise, my sun)

You and Kili were in bed. You were both exhausted, Thorin pushing everyone like crazy to look for the Arkenstone. It took you nearly an hour to convince the king to let you take a break before you got frustrated and just stormed out of the treasury, followed by your lover not long after.

Both of you were surprised Thorin didn't come after you, actually.

But you were alone now, settled in bed and far too tired to even speak to one another. You were curled up against Kili, your head on his chest while he slowly dragged his fingers through your hair, the motion, along with the sound of his heartbeat lulling you to sleep. Just as it always did.

You'd long since lost track of how many times Kili had played with your hair while you were trying to sleep. When you asked him why he always did it, he just said he liked how soft it was.

Smiling slightly, your eyes fell shut as you finally managed to fall asleep...

You were the first to wake the next morning. The first thing you noticed was that it was very warm, especially for the end of October. The second thing you noticed was that there were arms around you. Frowning, you opened your eyes and then blinked, spotting dark hair. There was a male in bed with you and he, like you, was completely naked, one of your legs between his.

For a moment, you were quite confused, your brain still working a little slow. You tried to sit up but were only able to roll over, and it was only when you saw the face of your bedmate that you remembered.

The frown on your face vanished and your expression softened. It was Kili. The memories from the previous day came flooding back and you smiled slightly, freeing your arms and bringing a hand up. Kili didn't stir, so you gently ran your fingers down his face.

He twitched but didn't wake, and your smile widened as you lowered yourself to press soft kisses to his skin, following the path your fingers had taken mere seconds before. You kissed his forehead, his nose, his cheek, the underside of his jaw and finally, his lips.

You saw them curl into a slight smile. It looked like he was starting to wake up. A fact that was proven when he spoke, his voice low and hoarse, sending heat pooling into your belly.

"Who can resist such a siren's call?"

You laughed lightly. "I am far from a siren, my dear Kili."

He laughed lowly. "On the contrary." His fingers swept down your back where he gripped your hips. Bucking up, he smirked. "Good morning."

Feeling the hard heat against you, you smiled cheekily. "Indeed." Reaching down, you took him in your hand, shifted your hips, and then mewled as he slowly slid into you. Kili groaned too, and you rose up, dragging your fingers down his chest until they came to rest on his abdomen.

You rose up and then sank back down, setting a quick rhythm right away, still wound up from the night before. Kili’s hands gripped your hips and he egged you on, bucking up, brown eyes locked on your body.

Now this was a damn good way to start off a day.

The Company of Thorin Oakenshield was in Lake-Town. You'd been here for some days now, unable and in some cases, unwilling to leave just yet because of the terrible injury poor Kili had received. Even though Legolas had done what he could to heal the wound, Kili still wasn't in any condition to continue on to Erebor. Luckily, he was healing quickly.

You were incredibly glad he was getting better. You were a member of the Company as well, had been since the beginning, and were actually being courted by one of the dwarves-Kili's older brother Fili, specifically.

Everything between the two of you had come as a surprise to pretty much everyone, and while there were some problems initially, everyone settled down eventually, accepting the situation.

Today the thirteen dwarves, Bilbo, and you yourself were gathered in the sitting room of Bard's house (the man aiding you all somewhat reluctantly). Everyone was conscious and healthy, and with the weather outside being rather poor, none of you had any desire to go out in the pouring rain and get soaked.

You really couldn't remember the last time all of you had been able to gather like this, just talking about this and that, your minds, for once, not on your quest or homes. It was actually genuinely fun.

You were sitting between Fili and Bilbo, leaning against Fili as you laughed at a crude joke told by Bofur, which was quickly followed by one from Nori, and then Dwalin.

You just kept laughing and ended up choking on air, prompting Fili, who was chortling just as hard, to thump you on the back roughly, which just had everyone laughing even harder when it nearly knocked you over.

As afternoon turned to evening, you found yourselves chatting with those beside you, having quieter conversations in smaller groups. You were listening to Fili, who was telling you a tale of something that'd happened in Ered Luin when he'd been young.

But though the story was really very interesting, you were only half listening, your eyes locked on his mustache braids, which moved as he spoke.

You'd had a weird fascination for them from the moment you first saw them months ago, and ever since then, even though the two of you were courting, you'd been fighting the urge to bat at them.

It was the motion and the beads, you knew, but you really just couldn't help it. You kept trying to ignore the urge, but...

"So then, he picked him up," Fili was saying, "and threw him," he went on, the braids at his mouth swinging as he made a hauling then throwing motion, "all the way across the-lass?"

Poke.

Fili blinked, surprised. "Er, (Y/N)?"

Poke poke.

"Lass?"

Poke poke poke.

The others stared now too, their own conversations dying out as they noticed the strange situation of you, who had always been so fierce, curiously poking one of Fili's mustache braids.

Poke poke. Poke poke.

You looked utterly mesmerised and Fili couldn't help but grin at the sight of you. You looked like a cat who'd just discovered a new toy. Frankly, it was endearing and utterly adorable.

Fili certainly didn't mind at all, and let you have your fill, and it was only when you stopped poking and started batting that Fili reacted. In a single, swift movement, he hauled you up onto his lap.

"Having fun, lass?"

You grinned, still playing with those braids that had so caught your attention. "Yep!"

Fili laughed, touching his forehead to yours, blue eyes twinkling with amusement. "You're so easily entertained, aren't you? You're like a kitten." His smile grew. "An adorable little kitten."

Poke poke. Poke poke poke.

You and Haldir were out on a 'walk'. That was what Haldir was calling it. In your opinion, this was more of a hunt. You wouldn't be armed and on guard the way you were if you were merely on a walk. It was all Haldir's doing, but you understood.

The two of you had been courting for at least two years now, something that surprised most, considering who you both were. In fact, the only ones who weren't surprised by it were those who'd been in the Fellowship of the Ring, which you'd been a part of, and Lady Galadriel-who seemed to know most of everything.

You and Haldir had gotten surprisingly close when the Fellowship stayed in Lothlorien, and you'd basically ended up saving Haldir's life during the battle at Helm's Deep. After the war came to an end-after Sauron was defeated, Haldir had approached you and asked for you to return to Lorien with him. So you did, and now just over two years had gone by.

But things weren't exactly peachy.

Haldir was almost always working, and even when he wasn't, he would be talking about it. He wasn't exactly the...warmest elf out there either, instead being rather cool and aloof. You didn't really mind, of course. You'd fallen in love with him for a reason, after all. You didn't expect him to change, didn't even want him to, really.

But honestly? Sometimes you just got lonely.

Sometimes you just missed spending time with him. Missed talking to him. Missed laughing with him. Missed being with him. You'd confessed that to Rumil, one of Haldir's brothers, just yesterday. He must have told Haldir what you said, because literally the next morning, Haldir asked you if you wanted to go on a walk with him, just the two of you.

...And then he told you to bring your sword with you.

So no, this wasn't a walk at all. But you found that while this wasn't exactly what you'd been hoping for, this was just so typically...Haldir, that you found yourself more amused than upset by it. He was trying, at least, and that was good. And you were finally alone together, so that was a very nice bonus.

You were quiet as you walked through the trees, clouds darkening and thickening overhead. It looked like it was about to rain. And sure enough, just as you mentioned that very thing to Haldir, a downpour began, startling you both.

You blinked, and then started to laugh. It was raining so hard that even though it had barely even been a minute, the two of you were already completely drenched.

"By the Valar, it's been a weird day!" Still smiling, you turned to Haldir, pushing wet hair out of your eyes. "We should find some sort of shelter. The rain doesn't look as if it will be stopping any time soon." You turned and then paused. Haldir had taken hold of your hand. You turned back to him, brow furrowed slightly in confusion. "Haldir?"

He didn't say anything at first, just looked at you, expression undecipherable. But as soon as you opened your mouth to question him, he pulled you forward, enveloping you in a tight embrace right there in the rain.

"Haldir...?" You sucked in a sharp breath when the embrace tightened. You brought your own arms around him now, fingers delving into his wet hair. You were beginning to feel a little concerned now. "Man presta le, meleth nin?" you asked softly. (what troubles you, my love)

He didn't release you, but he did speak, his voice quiet in your ear. "You are...upset with me, I understand. I've been...neglecting you recently, and you must believe that that wasn't my intention. Please, (Y/N), please forgive me for leaving you alone the way I have been." He wasn't the best with words, you both knew that, but he sounded genuinely regretful.

"Oh, Haldir..." You ran your fingers through his wet and tangled hair, the two of you still standing out in the rain. It was when he said things like this that you began to feel somewhat selfish.

"I'm not upset, Haldir," you said gently. "I was in a bad mood yesterday and was feeling very...disgruntled, which is why I said what I did to Rumil. I don't blame you for anything, Haldir. I know how hard you've worked over the centuries to keep this place safe-and how hard you still work to do that. How can I possibly fault you for that? Pân mae, Haldir." (all is well)

Haldir tightened the embrace as he held you close for just another moment before releasing you from the hug, though he didn't let you go completely. One of his hands lowered to your waist, where you could feel the heat of his hand on your chilled skin even through your wet tunic. His other hand came up to your jaw, stroking tenderly.

Eyes soft, Haldir smiled just slightly. "You are too forgiving, (Y/N). Too forgiving, and too kind." Gently, he ran his thumb over your bottom lip. "I adore you, Aduial nín. I truly do." His eyes flickered down to your lips. (my twilight)

You smiled cheekily. "Are you going to kiss me to make it up to me now?"

Haldir laughed softly, thumb once more passing over your lower lip, and then kissed you gently, pulling you in close. "Le melin, (Y/N). Please, do not ever doubt that." (i love you)

At this very moment, you couldn't decide whether you loved Dwalin or hated him.

Right now, the two of you were in your house-a modest place in rebuilt Dale. There was some work that needed to be done around the small building, work you yourself were, unfortunately, incapable of handling on your own. That was why you'd asked Dwalin to come over and give you a hand when he had some free time.

You'd only known one another for a couple of years now, just since the Battle of Five Armies. You'd been in the battle too, regardless of what anyone'd had to say about it, and had ended up saving Dwalin's life. It was pure chance, really, that you'd come upon him just as he'd been about to be attacked, only to slay the foul, offending orc.

But apparently, saving a dwarf's life led to them owing that person a debt of sorts. It was a thing in their culture that they had great respect for and basically always followed, whether or not the other person wanted it.

You didn't like the whole debt thing though-didn't want Dwalin to bind himself to you that way, where he had to feel like he was obligated to repay you. You'd assured Dwalin that he really didn't have to do anything, had told him that everything was alright and he truly didn't owe you for what happened during that battle.

But you'd underestimated Dwalin's persistence. He always came around to help you, whether you asked for him to or not, and it didn't take long for the large, gruff, intimidating, quiet dwarf to become a common and regular sight in and around your home.

And what was more, you didn't actually mind his presence.

You'd begun to talk and soon after, you'd discovered that Dwalin was a lot more gentle and tender than you'd ever expected or given him credit for being. And then he'd started...flirting with you. You didn't mind at all, and even reciprocated, and soon enough he began courting you, much to your pleasure.

And that was what led to today.

You were trying to fold the laundry you'd washed yesterday and let dry overnight. 'Trying' was the key word here, because you were utterly failing at it right now. You were too distracted to focus, but it wasn't your fault at all.

No, it was all Dwalin's fault. It was Dwalin's fault because for some reason, he'd decided that it was a good idea to work without a shirt on, leaving his bare chest and all those strong muscles and ink not just exposed, but fully within view. Your view.

How could it possibly be your fault that you were enjoying the view too much to concentrate? You tried to look away, of course, tried to continue working, tried to tell yourself that you had more self-control, but it didn't work. That was Dwalin's fault too.

Every time you actually did manage to refocus on what you were supposed to be doing, Dwalin would always walk past you (far closer than necessary) always making sure to brush up against you in an entirely inappropriate manner, fully succeeding in distracting you all over again.

At first, you thought Dwalin didn't really realize what he was doing, that he just didn't notice and was doing it without thought and fully by accident.

Just as you reached that conclusion, Dwalin came up behind you. Pressing his bare chest to your clothed back, he wrapped his thick, muscled arms around you and in a voice that sounded far too amused to be genuinely curious, inquired-

"How's the folding going, azbadu men?" (my lady)

...That jerk knew exactly what he was doing! "You tease!"

Dwalin chuckled lowly. "Tease? Whatever do yeh mean, azyungal?" (love of loves)

You weren't falling for it. He'd been teasing you all afternoon and clearly wasn't showing signs of stopping any time soon. Well fine. Two could play at that game, you thought, a smirk crossing your face. Dwalin had no idea what he'd gotten himself into.

You were curled up in an armchair in a small sitting room, reading a book by the light of the candle beside you. You'd had a very busy day, watching the young children of your dear friend Bard, and had tucked them into bed a little while ago where they'd fallen asleep almost instantly.

You'd been good friends with Bard's wife, having grown up with the woman. You'd helped her a great deal after Bain and Sigrid were born, especially as Bard had spent little time at home, so busy working to provide for his family. With two little children, his wife had really needed the extra help. Since you didn't have a family of your own, and had a decent amount of coin saved up, you'd chosen to help your friend when you could.

And then little Tilda was born, and you'd watched in sorrow as your friend never recovered from the strain and then passed, leaving behind her husband and three children.

So you helped Bard, coming over as often as you could, helping as often as you could, doing whatever you could to make things even a little bit easier for him. Because when it really came down to it, he was one of your friends too.

Five long years had passed since then.

Bard had a very long day today, required to leave before sunrise and return after sunset. While Bain and Sigrid could handle themselves and Tilda for a few hours at a time, he didn't like leaving them alone for that long, and so he'd asked you to watch them for the day, which you'd agreed to without complaint-just like always.

And now darkness had long since fallen, the three little ones were fast asleep, and you were reading as you waited for Bard to return home so you could head back to your own place and sleep too...

Another hour went by before the door opened. You glanced up from your book and watched Bard walk in, quietly shutting the door behind him. Looking rather stiff, he pulled his jacket off, draping it over the back of a chair before moving around said chair and collapsing into it.

Setting your book down, you silently went to go make some tea, and when you returned with a cup of it, you discovered that Bard hadn't moved, though his eyes were shut. He wasn't asleep-his breathing told you that much, so you approached him.

He looked up at you when you were closer, and smiled at you tiredly. "The children?"

"Fast asleep," you assured him.

"How were they?"

"Tilda was a bit of a handful," you said, passing the cup over and encouraging him to drink, "but I think she was just having a bad day. I'm sure she'll be fine when she wakes. Bain did the shopping, and Sigrid helped me with the cleaning, so everything went well enough."

Bard nodded, sipping the tea you'd brought him, nearly groaning as it warmed him from the inside. He curled both hands around the cup, then hissed in pain and pulled the left one back.

"Bard?" You were by his side in an instant.

He waved you off quickly. "It's just a scrape from cleaning at work," he assured you. "Nothing to worry about."

You raised a brow, setting a hand on your hip and fixing him with a look the children had certainly grown accustomed to (and frightened of). "If it really is nothing, then you wouldn't have reacted in what is very clearly pain." And before he could say anything, you held out a hand.

"(Y/N), it really isn't-"

"Bard. Let me see it."

Bard sighed and placed his left hand in the one you were holding out. You curled your fingers around his hand to keep it steady so you could get a better look at it. Your eyes widened immediately.

"Just a scrape my ass," you found yourself saying before you could stop yourself.

There was a long cut running along the length of the Bard's palm. Though it didn't appear to be bleeding, it clearly had been earlier because there was dried blood around the cut.

You sighed and released his hand. "I'll be right back. Stay here. Don't get up." Leaving Bard where he was, you went to grab the items you needed and then returned to him, kneeling down before him and taking his hand again.

Neither of you spoke while you tended to the wound on Bard's hand. So focused on cleaning and binding the cut, you didn't notice Bard was watching you closely.

He remained as he was, seated and still in the armchair, his eyes on you. He wasn't at all surprised that you were so adamant to tend to the injury. You'd been taking care of him as much as you had his children over the years.

You'd done so much for them, had sacrificed so much for them, for him, but as he thought about it now, had they-had he ever said or done anything to repay you?

Bard didn't realize his gaze had softened. Even today you'd done so much. You'd come here at his sudden asking at sunrise and had been here all day, looking after the children. And even though you surely must have been exhausted (he knew the kids were often a handful), you were still carefully tending to him.

Had he ever thanked you before for all that you did? He didn't think so. He certainly owed you that thanks, owed you much more than that, really.

"There we are," you said suddenly. You sat back on your heels and smiled up at Bard. "You're lucky that cut wasn't any deeper or else it would have needed more than what I know. It should heal fine, so long as it doesn't get infected. Try to do as little with that hand as possible until it heals, all right? I'll change the bandages again tomorrow night."

"Thank you."

You smiled and stood, dusting yourself off. "Don't mention it." You turned, intending to put things away and wash your hands. But you didn't get very far before Bard pulled you back towards him, wrapping his arms around you, your back to his firm chest.

"Thank you, (Y/N)," he repeated, quieter this time.

You blinked. "All I did was take care of a cut on your hand," you said in bemusement.

Bard shook his head and tightened his grasp. "No," he disagreed. "It was much more than that."

He was going to repay you one day, he promised himself. He had to.

Sometimes, he hated himself. He hated the thoughts that consumed his mind when it came to this one particular thing. But watching you now as you all sat around the fire at camp on the journey to Erebor, he couldn't help but feel that dark, coiling sensation in his gut again.

It hadn't been all that long, but Thorin couldn't possibly forget when and how things had begun and changed in the first place so many months ago.

Thorin had known you since you'd been but a mere babe. You were born in Ered Luin just two and a half years after Kili, and with your mother being such close friends with his sister Dis, even back in Erebor before the attack, you essentially grew up with Fili and Kili.

You were an adorable little thing as a child, with your (S/C) skin, (H/C) hair, and (E/C) eyes. You laughed a lot, smiled even more, and often got into all sorts of mischief with the lads, though you also knew how and when to be quiet, thoughtful, and helpful, much to Dis' delight.

You were still young, very young, when you lost your father. And unfortunately, it was Thorin who was forced to deliver the terrible news, because your father died to save his life on a trade mission gone wrong.

But even worse than that, your mother followed your father not long after. Dis pretty much took you in at that point, raising you like her own daughter. She had to. She said she couldn't bear to leave you alone, and since you were already practically her daughter, she might as well make it more permanent.

So many years had passed since those terrible incidents...

One day, not long after you turned seventy-two, you ended up joining Thorin on a hunt, because he couldn't go alone for something like this. By his own rules, no one was to go on a hunt alone.

Admittedly, you were not his first choice, mainly due to your age, but there was no one else suitable around, everyone off on their own missions. The food supply had chosen a bad time to run low, making this a rather urgent issue that needed to be resolved as quickly as possible, especially as winter was rapidly approaching.

But you were not without skill. Thorin and Dwalin had trained you for battle the same way they had Fili and Kili, mainly at your own insistence. You could handle yourself, and while Thorin was doubting you, he also trusted you enough to know that.

So, the two set out alone early one chilly morning, heading to the nearby forest that was the usual hunting grounds. The first day was unsurprisingly unproductive. The second day was just as disappointing, unfortunately. This was definitely not looking good. At all.

As dusk approached, signalling the end to the second unproductive day, the two came across a stream and mutually decided that it was a good place to set up camp for the night.

After a thorough search of the area, it was agreed that it was safe and clear, so Thorin sent you off to the stream so you could bathe while he prepared camp. With no reason to argue, you did just that.

While you were gone, Thorin busied himself by searching nearby for some wood for the fire. He wasn't particularly pleased with how these past two days had gone. This area was generally teeming with game, so it was certainly strange that he hadn't been able to find a thing-not even a sign of something. Strange and ominous. He didn't like it one bit.

He shouldn't have allowed himself to lose his focus.

It was already far too late when he heard the rustling in the foliage behind him. Too late to pull out a weapon, too late to attack, too late to even turn. All he had time to do was brace himself for the blow.

He heard the sickening sound of metal sinking into flesh, followed by a grunt, but...that wasn't him who had just been attacked. He whipped around. "(Y-Y/N)...!?"

You yanked your sword out of the dead orc's gut and looked up, eyes filled with concern. "Thorin! Are you all right!? Are you hurt!?"

Thorin opened his mouth to answer, but the words caught in his throat and he quickly looked away, feeling his cheeks heat. You were naked. He shrugged out of his coat and handed it over to you hurriedly.

It wasn't until you cleared your throat awkwardly that Thorin allowed himself to raise his head again, and-oh, this really wasn't any better.

You were standing before him, one hand holding the coat closed while the other retained a tight grip on your sword. No, this was doing nothing to cover all that smooth, (S/C) skin, or the swell of your breasts that were now mostly hidden.

Thorin swallowed hard, then forced himself to raise his eyes and look at your face instead. "How did you know?" he asked, gesturing at the orc that now lay dead at his feet.

You blinked, as if caught off guard by the question, but found yourself answering regardless. "It got quiet," you said. "The birds, the bugs even. Everything went quiet. I thought it was because of you, at first. That was why I started to bathe. But the sounds didn't start up again. I remembered what you and Mister Dwalin used to say, and got worried. Then I saw it-the orc."

Thorin nodded once as he listened, actually feeling somewhat proud. He kicked the orc onto its back, stooping down to make sure it was indeed dead. It was. As he straightened back up, he picked up the tunic that was sitting on the ground. "We'll stay together now," he said abruptly. "If there was one orc, I don't doubt there will be more."

You just nodded. Glancing around cautiously, you turned and began making your way back to the stream. Thorin gathered their belongings, then followed after you.

You returned to the stream, dropping Thorin's coat as you resumed bathing. Thorin meanwhile, set up the new camp before approaching the water's edge himself, keeping his back to his companion.

Blue eyes locked on the tunic held in his grasp, he dunked it into the cold water, attempting to clean off the filthy orc blood that was staining it. He already knew how it'd gotten bloody like this.

When you'd realized something was wrong, you hadn't bothered redressing before going to check. Instead, you'd simply grabbed your tunic and held it over you to cover yourself. But then you'd dropped it so you could get a proper grip on your sword when you'd killed that orc. And when you'd done that, the foul creature's blood stained the fallen shirt-your favourite one, he remembered, because Dis had it made for you specially.

You'd saved his life, Thorin realized abruptly as he washed the shirt. He'd been doubting your skill as a warrior for years, had been doubting you just a few hours ago. And now you'd saved his life because he'd let his guard drop while you hadn't-just as you'd been taught.

And this incident was what started everything.

Thorin was almost hyper-aware of you now.

He would find whatever excuse he could to get you alone with him, whether it was to talk, train, or work. He did this for months, and it wasn't until you turned seventy-five that Thorin figured out what was wrong with him-though it took him a few drinks and a very awkward and embarrassing conversation with Dis and Dwalin.

Love.

Thorin was in love. With you. In love with a lass younger than his sister-sons. In love with a lass young enough to be his own daughter.

No. No, it wasn't right. He didn't know if you felt anything even remotely similar-couldn't bring himself to look any closer either. Besides, even if you did feel the same way, no matter how slightly, he was too old for you, too jaded.

So Thorin did the next best thing. He ignored the feelings. Or tried to, at any rate. His gaze would stray, and so would his mind, and he would curse himself each time. Trying to ignore you wasn't working. Not at all. And you weren't helping matters either.

You always seemed to be around. Thorin knew you would be. Dis treated you like a daughter, Fili and Kili thought of you as a younger sister. It made sense that you would be around. Thorin hadn't ever had a problem with that until now.

Because now even the most innocent things you did drew his eyes to you. Every little thing you did filled him with such confusing emotions, even when there was no reason for it.

When you smiled, it lifted his heart. When you went off on missions or hunts, he grew concerned. When you returned, he would be relieved. When you came back successful or unscathed, he felt such pride. And when he saw you laughing and joking with the lads...

You wondered how much more it would take. Thorin was incredibly oblivious when it came to women. Your feelings for him had started out innocently enough, but as you'd grown older, those feelings changed too, developing into more-far more.

And you thought Thorin felt the same way about you as you did him, because over the past few years, ever since you'd gone on that hunting trip together, you'd realized that he always seemed to be watching you. You never minded, really. You liked it, actually. You did when you'd noticed, and you still did now.

But whenever you hinted you would be open to more than what you had together, Thorin never seemed to notice. It was so incredibly exasperating!

When Thorin began recruiting dwarves to take with him in a quest to reclaim Erebor, you all but jumped at the chance to join. How could you not? Fili and Kili were going. Thorin was going, and even though it upset and worried Dis, you knew you had to do this.

But you found yourself somewhat disappointed when even on the quest, nothing between you and Thorin changed. Well, not obviously at least.

Though he didn't speak to you more than he needed to, you quickly noticed that even now he would be watching you. Beyond that, at times Thorin kept close to you, and at other times had you stay close to Fili, Kili, and Mister Dwalin, almost as if he couldn't make up his mind on whether or not he wanted to be near you.

...Why was he so confusing!? You were beginning to wonder if just telling him how you felt would help.

But more than that... You had no idea whether you were going to live through this journey or not. If you were going to die, or if Thorin was going to die, then you wanted him to know the truth before whatever happened, happened.

Thorin really hated himself right now. He and the rest of his Company had set up camp, resting for the night. The journey so far had been eventful, yes, but not exactly fruitful. And you had saved his life yet again, though Thorin doubted you even realized it.

You appeared fairly cheerful, despite the attack from earlier that day, and were seated with his sister-sons, brushing Kili's hair and laughing at something Fili had said. But that was good. The sight was a good one. Or so he tried to tell himself-tried to convince himself. Unfortunately for him, it wasn't working.

And matters, in his opinion, were made even worse when just a week later, as the Company took refuge in Beorn's Halls, you approached him when he was alone one evening and told him that you were in love with him.

...Why was Mahal testing him like this?

"(Y/N)..." Standing across you, the light evening breeze blowing around you and tousling your hair, Thorin had no idea what to do or how to explain. He returned the feelings, of course-he'd been in love with you for some years now, but...

Reaching out, he gently cupped your face in his rough hands. "(Y/N)... You cannot feel for me what you do."

You blinked, startled. "W-what? But I do know how I feel. I'm not lying!"

"I know you aren't lying. I'm not accusing you of that."

"But then...?"

Thorin sighed inwardly. This was more difficult than he'd been expecting it to be. "You are young, (Y/N). Very young. There is still so much time for you to find someone more worthy of your love."

"More-more worthy?" You were utterly baffled. How on arda could Thorin believe that he of all people wasn't worthy enough for you to love? That just-just didn't make any sense!

But Thorin seemed to understand what you were thinking. He sighed again, audibly this time, but softly. "I am too old for you," he said bluntly. "Too old, and too hard. You deserve someone younger, someone happier, someone who will be there for you throughout the rest of your life, and always keep you safe from harm. You would be better off with Fili or Kili. They have more to offer you than I do."

With each phrase, more tears pooled into your eyes as you listened to Thorin speak. And as Thorin finished saying his piece, those tears finally fell. You understood what Thorin was saying, understood why he was saying it too, but understanding it wasn't making it hurt any less to hear it.

"But-" Your voice cracked, though you made no attempt to clear it, trying to swallow around the lump in your throat. "But I don't want Fili or Kili!" you protested vehemently. "I want you, Thorin!"

"(Y/N)-"

"No!" You shook your head forcefully. "I'm not a child, Thorin. I'm old enough to know what I want."

Thorin's eyes softened. "You're not understanding."

But you did understand. "If you don't feel the same way, then just say it. Just tell me, Thorin." Because if he told you this was something that couldn't happen, that this was something he couldn't do, then you would understand and back off. It would hurt, but you would do it. He just had to say it-prove it, with full conviction that you couldn't be together.

This was the moment, Thorin told himself. This was the moment to tell you he didn't have any feelings for you. This was the moment to make this right. He would reject you now, and you would be able to find someone better suited for you.

Someone else you could laugh and talk with. Someone else you could seek comfort from. Someone else who would care for and protect you. Someone else who would touch you, hold you, kiss you. Someone else who would marry you. Someone else who would make you theirs. Someone else you would make yours. Someone else...

He couldn't do it, Thorin realized abruptly, gazing into earnest eyes. He couldn't allow someone else to do all of that. Couldn't, because he simply didn't want to see you with someone else. Didn't want you to be with someone else. Didn't want you to be with anyone other than him.

He couldn't do this, he told himself again. He just couldn't, and you knew it too, if the expression on your face had anything to say about it. Once again cupping your face, he leaned in, touching his forehead to yours, and sighed deeply.

"Tell me, Thorin," you said again, voice soft and almost desperate, your hands on his forearms, gripping him tightly.

Thorin's eyes fell shut. "I can't," he finally said-finally admitted.

"You can't tell me you don't love me?"

"...No."

"Then why do you keep fighting it?" you asked quietly. "Why do you keep denying it?"

"I..." But Thorin didn't really have an answer to that. He should just let you go, but he didn't want to. Thorin wanted to be selfish. "(Y/N)..." Finally, Thorin made up his mind. He was tired of fighting. In the end, there really was only one answer.

"Thorin?"

He kissed you.

It started out teasingly. A sultry glance here, a tender caress there, a cheeky grope around a corner or under a table when the moment presented itself.

You knew Thranduil was stressed. There was so much happening recently, none of it particularly good, and while Thranduil appeared as unbothered and as unflappable as ever, you could see through that facade now and knew he was actually having a rather tough time.

You tried to do whatever you could to help him, but there was much needing to be done that you weren't exactly...qualified to help with. But you didn't want to just give up and do nothing either. So, you started to help in a completely different way.

When you passed one another in one of Mirkwood's many corridors by chance one afternoon, you grabbed Thranduil by the sleeve and tugged him downward. You didn't give him the chance to speak before you kissed him firmly. Then, you simply released him and walked away before he could even react.

When you saw one another later that night, Thranduil, for the first time in what was surely weeks, smiled.

And that was how all of it started.

Every day for the next few weeks, you made sure to do something fun like sneaky kisses or touches at least once a day if you had the chance. Of course, you were a lot more discrete if others happened to be nearby, but since Thranduil never told you to stop, you took that to mean he didn't really mind what you were doing.

Good, because you had no inclination to stop.

But as the days began to pass, things ended up changing. What started off as a one-way attempt to comfort soon turned into two-way teasing. And all this teasing soon brought forth an odd tension between you and Thranduil. This tension built, and built, and built, until-

Just like most days, you and Thranduil happened to come across each other in a corridor. Since you appeared to be alone with no one else in sight, you smirked inwardly, already aware of what you wanted to do.

You continued walking towards one another, neither of you faltering, neither of your expressions even changing. But just as you were about to reach out, Thranduil acted first.

He grabbed you by the arm, spun you around, and then used his long, hard body to pin you to the nearest wall where he kissed you absolutely senseless.

Hands caught between your bodies, pressed against Thranduil's chest, you could only hold on as your knees buckled under you. And then Thranduil was gone before you could even make sense of what happened.

It took you a moment to catch your breath, but once you were sure you were alone, you found yourself laughing.

You certainly hadn't expected Thranduil to do what he did, but you didn't mind in the slightest. It showed you that he was feeling a little bit better at least, and that was definitely a good thing. He'd been far too quiet recently. It was nice to see this side of him again, it really honestly was.

And things only progressed from there.

This was when more sneaky touches started, the glances, the caresses, the gropes. It was all fun and teasing. And while you were enjoying what Thranduil was doing, you only continued because you knew it was making him happy. You liked seeing him happy, especially when you knew he was so busy and stressed.

But you couldn't deny that your own needs were quickly growing. Very specific needs. Needs you required a certain elf-king for, though you didn't really want to bother him with that right now, considering how much he already had on his definitely full plate.

It was late at night about a month later. You were lying in the massive bed you and Thranduil shared in the king's rooms. But you were alone right now, the other side of the bed empty and cold, as it usually was nowadays. You were used to it, and it didn't really bother you because you understood that Thranduil was busy, but even then...

Despite the lateness of the hour, you found that you couldn't sleep. You tried of course, but sleep wouldn't come to you no matter what you did, so eventually, you just gave up.

Deciding to track down your king, you slid out of bed and pulled a short robe on over what little you were, or in this case weren't, wearing, and then left the room.

The corridor was empty for the most part, so you were able to reach Thranduil's study without hindrance. Unfortunately, it was empty. Huh, that was unexpected. This was where he always went during late nights. ...Unless something more urgent had come up, in which case-

You turned and made your way to the throne room. If he wasn't there either, then you figured you would just give up and take care of your needs on your own. That was always fun too.

Fortunately for you, you spotted Thranduil the moment you entered the large room. He was alone and was seated on his throne. Even with a single glance, you could see that he was tired. You sighed softly. Poor thing.

"(Y/N)? Why are you not in bed, meleth?" (love)

You shrugged vaguely as you glanced around to make sure no one else was nearby. "I couldn't sleep," you said as you climbed up the stairs to the throne. And when you made it up to him, you wasted no time before sliding onto his lap, straddling him. "Hmmm, I missed you," you murmured, wrapping your arms around his neck and nuzzling him.

Thranduil's hands came to your hips almost without thought, and he laughed softly. "I missed you as well, dearest." He pressed a gentle kiss to your brow, then pulled back slightly. "Why on arda have you been walking around in that robe?" he asked curiously with a raised brow.

You smirked. "Why don't you find out?" you said slyly, taking one of his hands and guiding it lower.

Thranduil's icy blue eyes flashed. He stroked firmly and pulled you closer to him. "Such a naughty girl," he whispered into your ear. With his free hand, he loosened your robe, exposing the swell of your breasts.

"You have been testing my patience for far too long now. How long did you plan on teasing me for, little bird?" He peppered kisses along your neck as you arched your back. "Shall I make you sing for me?"

The only sound that left you was a barely audible whimper, fingers digging into Thranduil's shoulders while you threw your head back in pleasure. Thranduil nipped at your throat, then tutted, as if disappointed.

"Come now, you can do better than that." He pressed his thumb to your clit and this time, you cried out in surprise. "Ah, much better." Tugging at the tie of your robe, Thranduil watched as it fell open completely, revealing everything to his already hungry eyes.

You protested slightly when Thranduil removed his hand from between your thighs, but then arched into his touch with a pleased hum when he cupped both of your breasts, your own fingers searching for folds that would lead to bare skin. It was entirely unfair that he could touch skin and you couldn't. But you didn't have the chance to think about it for long.

Pulling you up so you were slightly higher up, Thranduil splayed one of his hands across your back and lowered his head, trailing his lips down from your jaw to your neck, pausing to nip at your collarbone before lowering further to your chest. His kisses ran all over your breasts, some light and teasing, some heavy and heated.

With his mouth busy, Thranduil brought his free hand back between your thighs. You raised yourself up slightly higher now, wrapping your arms around Thranduil's neck, gasping when his thumb brushed over your clit, then moaning when he slid two of his long, slender fingers inside you.

"Thran-ah!"

Stopping his motions but not moving from where he was, Thranduil looked up at you, blue eyes dark. "Are you enjoying this, little bird? My hands on you? My mouth on you?" He kissed the swell of one of your breasts.

You nodded, dragging your fingers through his hair. "Very-oh! Very much!" you said breathlessly, rocking your hips along with the stroke of his fingers.

Thranduil laughed lowly and pressed a kiss to the base of your throat. "Good, because I am far from finished with you. I will have you begging for me long before dawn, precious girl."

...Well, so much for sleeping tonight. Oh, who were you kidding? You could sleep in the morning. This was far more enjoyable than that!

It had always been a stupid idea, in Fili's opinion. So many believed in the concept of love at first sight-even his mother and younger brother, but Fili didn't-couldn't do the same. He didn't understand it.

It made no sense to him that someone could look at a person they'd never seen before, a person they knew basically nothing about, and simply decide right there on the spot that they loved them.

Many tried to explain it to him, but he really just couldn't understand it. And he tried to, he really did. But whatever others were feeling about this entire thing only continued to elude him.

Fili was sure that regardless of how others attempted to convince him, or regardless of what they told him, he would continue to find this 'love at first sight' thing to be completely and utterly asinine.

He was wrong. He was wrong, because before he knew it, it happened to him, and it was all your fault.

Fili saw you for the first time-met you for the first time in Rivendell, but he'd already known about you for a few weeks by this point.

When he and the rest of the Company went to Bilbo's house to recruit him as a burglar for their quest, Gandalf told them about you.

According to the old wizard, you were from some bizarre world of the future, and weren't sure how you'd ended up in Middle earth at all. Gandalf wanted you to join them on their journey though, because he thought it might lead you to a way you could go home.

Thorin wasn't happy about it at all, but he conceded eventually. It wasn't exactly easy to argue with Gandalf, after all.

And as they made their way from the Shire to Rivendell, Gandalf told them all more about you. You sounded interesting enough, and Fili had to admit he was curious to meet you himself, like most everyone in the Company was, whether that was something they admitted or not.

When they reached the valley of Rivendell, the dwarves were taken to a place where they could freshen up, Gandalf informing them that he was going to find you so they could properly meet you. It didn't take very long.

They all gathered again once they were clean, and that was when Gandalf approached them once more, this time with a woman in tow.

You were pretty, Fili thought, more than just that too. Your skin was (S/C), your hair (H/C), and eyes (E/C), and you certainly looked very stunning in that emerald-coloured dress. You were polite and well-spoken, he noticed as you confidently introduced yourself to Thorin.

And then you turned your head, and his eyes met yours, and Fili didn't know or understand how, but that was it-he was in love.

Even as he spoke to you and became friends with you as the journey to Erebor continued, it still made no sense to him. At first, he told himself it was just lust. He was a young dwarf, and you were a very attractive woman, and he was confusing lust for love, just like Kili always did.

But that wasn't it. It made so much more sense than whatever the truth was, but it wasn't lust. Well, not entirely, at any rate. It was love, and it bothered him so much that he couldn't understand why he already loved you, even though he barely even knew you. It was so frustrating!

He tried to ignore it as well. He figured if he just didn't think about it, the strange feelings would go away. But it didn't work. It didn't work because he couldn't manage to bring himself to stop thinking about you at all, no matter how hard he tried.

Every single thing you said and did drew his attention to you. You were kind, and polite, and strong, and every member of the Company seemed to seek you out for a different reason. They all seemed to like you, even Thorin and Dwalin, which was obviously odd.

Fili didn't know what to think. All of this was just...so strange.

Wanting some time alone with his thoughts, Fili made his way out to Beorn's back garden one evening while the others prepared for dinner. Pleased to be alone for a little while, he lowered down to the grass, placing his hands behind his head so he could look up at the sky, losing himself in a reverie...

"Fili?"

Completely caught off guard by the voice, Fili jolted where he lay and looked up, blue eyes wide. "Mahal, woman! Don't sneak up on me like that!"

"Er, sorry." With a light laugh, you moved to lie down beside him on the grass. "What are you doing out here all by yourself?" you asked him curiously.

He shrugged somewhat awkwardly, unsure how to answer. He hardly wanted to be rude, but it wasn't as if he could simply tell you that he was in love with you. And maybe you realized he didn't really want to speak, because you did so yourself just a moment later.

"Do you see that star there?" you said, pointing up at the dark sky. "That bright one right there? In my world, we call that one-"

And Fili listened as you named the stars and told him the stories behind so many of them. You didn't even seem to mind that he wasn't saying anything. He didn't really even want to say anything right now. He was perfectly content to simply listen to you. He liked your voice...

"Fi?"

"Hmm?"

You giggled. "You can't fall asleep out here, silly. You don't want to be eaten by Beorn, do you?" You rolled over onto your side so you could look at him properly, and poked him in the side, giggling again when he squirmed.

"Hey, no poking, lass," Fili protested, grabbing your offending hand. Then he took hold of your other one as well when you used that one to poke him too, tugging you forward towards him.

Without the use of either of your hands, you ended up falling right on top of Fili, who grunted in surprise, though he didn't release you. You didn't ask him to either. Instead, you smiled at him gently, touching your forehead to his, eyes soft.

"Are you feeling any better?" When he only blinked at you in confusion, you added, "You were in a bad mood earlier, weren't you? That's why you weren't talking."

Fili's eyes widened. You'd noticed that? For some reason, it didn't really surprise him that you'd realized what he was feeling. You'd been perceptive like that from the very beginning. But the fact that you'd used telling him about the stars as a means to distract him...

Before he realized he was doing it, Fili released both of your hands to cup your face. You immediately placed your hands on his chest to brace yourself so you wouldn't fall further and bash your heads together, and it was only when you called his name in confusion that he spoke.

"I think I love you, (Y/N), and I don't understand why."

You blinked. "Er-"

"No, that's a lie," Fili amended, thumbs stroking your cheekbones slowly. "I think I've known for a while. I think I just didn't want to admit it." He wasn't even sure what he was saying, honestly. The words were just...spilling out of him.

Reaching up slightly, you stroked his jaw lightly and smiled gently. "You know, I think I'm falling in love with you too."

Fili grinned, unable to help himself, not to mention he felt somewhat relieved. Maybe what he'd initially been feeling for you was as strange as love at first sight, but that didn't mean he couldn't continue falling in love with you.

That made far more sense to him.

It was Pippin who started it, unsurprisingly. The Fellowship was just a day away from Caradhras and had come to a stop for the night. Gandalf had gone off to look ahead with a promise to be back in a couple of hours, so the rest of you were left alone as you ate the dinner Sam prepared for you all, just as he always did.

Everyone seemed fine to simply chat with those sitting closest to them, but it didn't take long for Pippin to grow bored. It was then that he proposed a game for you to play.

"Truth or Dare?" you echoed in surprise, a little caught off guard. That particular sequence of words wasn't something you'd expected to hear in this place, let alone said by a hobbit. "That's a thing here? Weird. That game exists in my world too."

"Have you played it?" asked Aragorn curiously. Clearly, he hadn't heard of it before, though he was hardly the only one.

"More than once!"

"What happened when you played?"

You smirked in remembrance, but tried your hardest not to laugh. "Trust me, you don't want to know!"

Your answer had everyone else's curiosity growing, and after an explanation of the game's rules, the Fellowship began to play.

Everything was very simple at first, all the truths and dares basic and light-hearted as those who hadn't played before attempted to get a handle on things. But the game wasn't exactly complicated, so it didn't take anyone long to get used to it.

After what must have been half an hour, it was once again your turn to pick truth or dare. Having chosen truth during your previous turn, you decided to go for dare this time around. But the sudden smile that crossed Merry's face when you declared your choice had you questioning that decision.

This couldn't be good.

Merry leaned into Pippin, the two whispering to one another, clearly plotting something. Then, as one, they turned back to you and smirked, clearly amused with what they'd come up with.

"I dare you to bite Boromir's ear!" Merry announced firmly.

You stared, and Boromir started, even as Gimli chortled loudly from around his pipe.

"Well, (Y/N)?" said Frodo, looking rather amused himself.

"What is this, some sort of conspiracy?" you muttered, not exactly annoyed.

"Are you scared, lass?" said Gimli with a grin of his own.

"Of course not!" you protested adamantly.

"Well? Get to it, then!"

"Fine!" Honestly, they were acting like Merry had dared you to do something more than just bite the man's ear. It wasn't like it was going to be that hard.

...Right?

"You appear to be stalling, (Y/N)," Legolas pointed out most unhelpfully.

"Am not!" you retorted with a scowl. Deciding it would be best not to waste any more time, you got to your feet, carefully made your way around the fire, and lowered to your knees in front of Boromir.

"(Y/N)?" he said in confusion.

You pressed a finger to his lips to silence him, unsure whether you actually wanted him to talk or not-this was embarrassing enough as it was without him asking you questions.

Still, using his broad shoulders to brace yourself, you leaned in even closer. You'd never been this close to him before, you realized absently. You found that you couldn't protest against that closeness either.

Boromir seemed to be unsure of what to do. You were pressed so close to him-close enough that he could feel your hot breath on his neck. It wasn't a feeling he was inclined to object to, he quickly discovered. Without realizing it, his strong arms came around you, bringing you impossibly closer.

You weren't able to stop the smile that crossed your face when you felt that. Dropping your head, you bit down. It wasn't a hard bite at all, but Boromir still gasped sharply at the sudden jolt of pain, which had Merry, Pippin, Frodo, and Gimli all cheering because it meant you'd completed the dare.

Laughing lightly, you made to move back, though you weren't able to go very far. Boromir hadn't released you yet. If anything, his grip had only tightened. You looked at him, eyes searching his, and found you quite liked what you saw there.

"(Y/N), it's your turn!" Merry reminded you. "Who are you going to ask?"

"...Boromir?"

"Yes?" he said, one of his large, rough hands lowering down to your waist.

"Truth or dare?" you said, your own hands moving to his firm chest.

"Dare."

"Kiss me."

Boromir's eyes flashed. "With pleasure."

The first time you had the dream, you didn't think much of it. It was strange, certainly, but nothing more than a rare lucid dream fuelled by too much of an interest in the fantasy genre.

That was the only way you could explain the encounter you had with the elf lord calling himself Elrond, on top of a tall grassy hill underneath a bright starlit sky. What could that be if not a dream? A good dream, yes, but still just that-a dream.

But then it happened again. Just a week later you found yourself on that hill again where you were quickly joined by Elrond once more. You were quite surprised, but you weren't the only one. Elrond was rather surprised himself-confused too, and was under the impression that there was a deeper reason behind all of this, though he couldn't say what that reason was.

That was when you learned about Middle earth and about who exactly Elrond was. This opened up a discussion between you where you told one another all about your own worlds and lives, which had you realizing just how...different even the most basic things were for you both.

You still had no idea what to think about any of this. A large part of you was still inclined to believe these were nothing more than strange dreams, because that made sense to you logically. But...was your mind really capable of creating all of this on its own, especially in this much detail? You didn't find that to be all too likely, if you were being honest with yourself. At least, not quite this fast.

So then, what was actually going on?

Neither you nor Elrond had the answer, but the dreams continued to occur on a fairly regular basis-at least two or three nights a week. And you both simply made the best of them.

They chatted, and discussed, and explained, and soon enough, became friends. And the dreams showed no signs of slowing down, let alone stopping. Before long, an entire year passed, then two, then three, then four, and then, eventually five years went by since the dreams started, and they still kept happening regularly.

Well, at least until the incident. You weren't sure how it happened, let alone why, but one day when you decided to take an afternoon nap, the place you woke up in definitely wasn't the couch in your living room.

No, when you woke it was on the cold, hard floor of a metal cage. That was seriously not a good discovery, and it was only made worse when you realized that the...things holding you captive weren't human at all.

You didn't know what they were-didn't care to find out either. All you knew was that you absolutely had to get away from here before you ended up getting killed, or worse.

You didn't get that chance until about two weeks later, although by that point you'd already completely lost track of time. But that didn't matter right now. There were more important matters at hand.

The creatures began to argue that night, which wasn't unusual-they argued among one another nearly every night. What was unusual was that this time the argument escalated into a fight, and a rather bad one at that.

At first, you watched them in horror, kind of glad you were in the cage instead of out there. But then an axe strike missed its target and came crashing down on the cage's large lock, which led you to decide that now was probably your only chance for an escape, risky though it was.

So, taking advantage of the chaos, you did just that and escaped, running out into the trees.

You knew you weren't in the best of shape, weakened by hunger, dehydration, pain, and exhaustion, but you also knew that the creatures couldn't travel by day, which meant you would be alright if you could just get some distance between you and them now. You didn't even know if they would bother chasing after you, but you didn't really want to risk it.

The further away you got from this place, the better.

You ran. You ran, and ran, and ran, and finally came across the most beautiful place you'd ever seen before, though you didn't have much time to admire it because it was then that your body finally gave out on you and you lost consciousness...

All Elrond wanted was a walk. It'd been days since he'd last had the chance to properly rest, and with the way things were going, it didn't appear as if he was going to be getting that chance anytime soon. And that was why he simply settled for a walk that evening near dusk.

But even then people continued to approach him, seeking something or another from him. To counter that, he made his way a bit further out than he usually did when out on a walk. He was far away enough that he was left alone, yet not quite so far out that it was dangerous.

He was enjoying the silence and the breeze when he suddenly noticed something out in the distance. It looked like a body on the ground. It wasn't odd to find injured travellers in Imladris, though they generally made it a bit further in before collapsing. Unless they were dead.

Cautious for a trap, Elrond hurried forward, lowering down beside the body of a woman, judging by the bare arms and legs. You were face down, but he could already see what a part of the problem was. Carefully, gently, he turned you over, and then froze.

Your face... This-this was you! He was sure of it! He'd known you for five years now, though he'd never truly had the chance to meet you in person before. But how on arda had you ended up here in Middle earth!?

No, now was not the moment to think about this. You were alive, but he could see injuries. Nothing looked too severe, so he carefully picked you up before calling for aid...

Nearly two hours later, Elrond found himself alone with you. You were still unconscious, lying in a bed in a room just down the hall from his own. You'd been cleaned and healed, but Elrond wasn't quite prepared to leave you alone just yet, so he sat in a chair at your bedside, watching over you.

This was definitely you-he was sure of it. Not only was your face the same, but your hair, your height, that little, barely noticeable scar on your finger-they were all the same.

Even the clothing you'd been wearing (he'd had one of the maids change you), torn and dirtied though they'd been, were familiar to him. And those were not things anyone in Middle earth even wore, simply because such clothing didn't even exist here.

But how had you arrived here from your own world? How had you ended up in the hands of orcs? He knew you'd been because your wrists and ankles showed clear signs of being bound, and orcs always tied their knots in a very specific manner that few others used. And if you truly had been captured, how had you managed to escape?

What in the world had happened to you?

You woke in the middle of a nightmare. You were back in the cage, being poked and prodded at through the bars. You didn't feel restricted though, and in your panic and fear, cried out and flailed, eyes flying open but not actually seeing.

"(Y/N)! Echuio, gil nin!" (wake up, my star)

Startled, you jolted back and would have fallen right off the bed if it weren't for the arm that came around your waist, pulling you back into place. You would've struggled, but the touch was gentle and the voice concerned, which was incredibly unlike those strange creatures.

"Tolo hi, (Y/N). Tolo ad-n nin." (come now, come back to me)

That voice...it sounded familiar-a good familiar. You began to calm, the nightmare starting to fade away. The person talking seemed to notice that too, because he continued speaking soothingly.

"Good, lasta. Av-'osto." (listen, don't be afraid)

Cautiously, you finally looked up, immediately spotting the person attempting to calm you down. You blinked, recognizing him right away, even though it only confused you further. "E-Elrond?"

He nodded encouragingly, running a gentle hand up and down your arm soothingly. "Yes, it's me. You are safe now, (Y/N). I promise it."

You looked around the room. It was a nice one, but it didn't look familiar to you. "Where...?"

"You are in Middle earth, (Y/N). The Valley of Imladris, if you wish for a more specific answer. My home."

Your eyes widened. "W-what? But-but how is that possible?"

Elrond frowned slightly. "You do not know how you came to be here?"

"No! I fell asleep on my couch at home and then woke up in a cage!"

"A-a cage? Then I was correct in assuming it was orcs."

"Orcs? Is-is that what those creatures were?" Elrond had told you about them before in some of your dream encounters, but for some reason, you hadn't been able to put two and two together until now. "How...how do I go home?" you asked instead.

Slowly, Elrond bowed his head. "I cannot say..."

Months went by and you were finally beginning to get used to being in Rivendell-in Middle earth. Some of the other elves had been a bit cautious around you at first, clearly unsure what to think about you.

It was so incredibly obvious that you weren't from around here, and you often said or did things that confused them greatly, though it quickly became clear that it wasn't on purpose. It also helped them that you already had a close relationship with Lord Elrond. That wouldn't be possible if you were someone who could not be trusted.

The proof of that closeness had been demonstrated almost immediately. Elrond had hardly left your side when you'd been injured and weakened. Though he could have asked anyone for aid, he instead took it upon himself to heal and nourish you back to health-seeing to your wounds and ensuring you ate and slept.

And that didn't really change even after you were back up to proper health. You continued spending much of your time together, so much so that it was actually strange when the two of you weren't together. And now, months later, many were forced to admit that you were actually a rather welcome presence in Imladris.

But at this point, it'd actually been about a month since you'd even seen Elrond. He was busy, you knew-he most always was, but this was definitely a bit much. He'd become such a constant presence in your life the past few years (thanks to those strange dreams you no longer had) that going even just this long without seeing him was beyond strange.

You already missed him and he was still in Rivendell!

The days continued to pass, and Elrond remained busy. Right now, you couldn't even remember the last time you'd seen him. You understood that he had a lot to do, considering who he was, but it sucked to realize how few were actually inclined to help him.

You tried your best, of course, but honestly, you didn't understand half of what Elrond did, which made it hard for you to do much at all.

One dark night about a year after you'd arrived in Rivendell, you found yourself wandering towards Elrond's study. The door was slightly ajar, so you poked your head in, only to see Elrond reclining on the couch not far from his desk, his head tipped back and his eyes shut.

Not used to seeing him in such a state, and feeling somewhat concerned, you stepped into the room, shutting the door behind you quietly. "Elrond?"

Eyes opening, Elrond smiled slightly. "Aduial vaer, gil nin. Will you join me?" (good evening, my star)

"Of course." Moving across the room, you sat down beside him on the couch. "Are you alright?" you asked him a moment later.

"I am merely taking a break."

You blinked, and then frowned. The fact that he'd only said that in answer told you enough. He was definitely not alright. "Busy day?"

Elrond laughed lightly. "Busy month would be more accurate, I believe." Eyes closing again, he sighed softly and pinched the bridge of his nose.

You weren't sure what made you do it. Maybe it was just concern for a close friend (or more than a friend), or maybe it was the sheer exhaustion visible on his face, but you found yourself moving suddenly.

You shifted closer and reached out, cupping Elrond's face in your hands gently, shushing him when he opened his mouth to speak. Sitting close enough that you were practically in his lap, you touched your forehead to his and began to run your fingers through his hair soothingly.

Elrond remained tense for a moment, staring at you, but then closed his eyes once more, relaxing. "(Y/N)-"

"Shh, it's alright. We're the only ones in here," you assured him. "Just rest for a little while." Wrapping your arms around him, you brought his head down to your chest, hugging him close.

He'd done this for you more than once, both in the dreams you used to have, and over the past year. You were repaying the favour, yes, but really, it was the least you could do. And if it made him look any less exhausted, then it was definitely worth it. Besides, it wasn't as if you actually minded doing this.

Elrond only seemed to relax further, readjusting your positions on the couch to make sure you both remained comfortable, but keeping his head where it was, resting on your chest, his eyes shut.

For a long while neither of you said anything. You lay where you were, Elrond resting, while you continued gently stroking his hair, his weight pleasant and warm. You liked the way he felt on top of you.

You didn't notice it, but Elrond suddenly began to smile. "Your heartbeat has quickened," he said quietly.

You bit back a laugh, smoothing his hair. "Yes, I suppose it has." And for good reason too, though you knew Elrond managing to actually get some rest was far more important than anything else right now.

"(Y/N)..."

"Shh, sleep. Just for a little while. I'll stay right here."

The nightmare didn't come as a surprise to you, or anyone else for that matter. You were in the dark forest of Mirkwood-most of you were having nightmares more often than you weren't, and you all knew the forest itself was to blame.

No one really ever even noticed the nightmares anymore. Didn't notice much of anything, honestly. Days and nights blended into one another and at this point, you didn't even know how long you'd been in here. It could have been days, could have been weeks, could easily have been months.

Some of you still had enough sense to know that you were lost, others not so much. Half of the time it didn't even matter how many times you stopped to eat or rest. It was as if you were experiencing a single, extremely long day. All of you were just so...out of touch with your reality-with reality in general.

You weren't really much of an exception to all of this. You'd managed to keep more of your sanity than some of the others, but even you'd been affected by the strange...darkness of this forest. And you knew the forest was the reason you kept having these nightmares. It had to be. There was no other reason for them.

Night after night you would wake abruptly, panting and trembling and scared, having suffered through another one of those horrible, dark dreams. And no one ever seemed to notice, not that you could blame them. You doubted you noticed half the time they had nightmares.

And tonight, unfortunately, ended up like all the other nights, with you waking abruptly, a sharp gasp escaping your lips as you bolted up in your bedroll.

Sitting where you were and struggling to calm your breathing, you pushed hair out of your eyes and raised a shaky hand to your mouth, biting back a sob. It was more out of frustration than anything else.

Night, after night, after goddamn night. You weren't sure you were going to be able to handle this for much longer. It was starting to become too much.

"(Y/N)?"

Another gasp left you, this time in surprise, and you couldn't stop yourself from flinching when a hand landed on your shoulder. You whipped around in alarm, and a second hand came to your other shoulder, steadying you before you could tumble over.

"Calm yourself, (Y/N). You're all right."

You recognized the voice before anything else, and began to relax, shoulders sagging in relief. "D-Dwalin..."

"Aye, it's me. Yeh have another dark dream?" he asked quietly, one of his hands moving from your shoulder to your forearm.

You nodded, and then realized he probably wasn't going to be able to see it thanks to the bizarre darkness of the forest (they didn't like lighting fires in this place), and answered verbally instead.

You heard Dwalin sigh softly when you did, and when you felt him pull you in towards him, you went willingly, burying your face in his neck, your hands on his firm chest, gripping his tunic tightly.

Dwalin didn't say anything more, just held you close and stroked your hair gently with his thick fingers, trying to give you some semblance of comfort.

You didn't realize it, but Dwalin had been aware of your nightmares from the very beginning. He was almost hypersensitive to everything involving you, and had been since the very first time he'd met you just a few short months ago.

He didn't know why, didn't understand why, but he was strangely drawn to you. There was a sense of protection there-protection and longing. He felt he knew what it was, but at the same time, it continued to confuse him.

He hadn't wanted anyone, least of all you, to find out about any of this, so he'd simply kept it to himself and planned to do so until the very end. But then your nightmares started.

Though fully aware of them, he hadn't paid them too much attention in the beginning. You weren't the only one suffering through these. Even he'd had a few since they'd entered the forest.

But...why were you having so many? Almost every night he would wake to the sound of you gasping awake in fear. And because he nearly always ended up waking himself, he also knew that you rarely fell asleep again after.

He could see the way the dreams were affecting you too. Every day you grew more and more pale, trudging along after them dutifully despite your exhaustion, only to have another dream at night and repeat everything all over again.

Seeing that exhaustion, along with your frustration growing, Dwalin realized he couldn't take it anymore. He couldn't just...watch you go through this any longer. So when you once again woke with a gasp that night, Dwalin didn't bother fighting against the urge and pulled you into his arms.

And now he held you, unsure what more he could say to you to chase off the fear you were feeling. But as it turned out, he didn't even need more words, because a moment later, Dwalin realized that you'd fallen back asleep.

He smiled into the darkness, but instead of setting you back down onto your bedroll, he lowered you both down onto his own instead. He didn't particularly feel like releasing you. Not tonight.

Bah, it was fine. He was always the first to wake anyway. No one would see anything. He could indulge himself just this once. Besides, if it meant you would be able to sleep until morning, then risking getting caught holding you would be worth it...

You woke slowly. You were warm, and comfortable, and-why was your bedroll moving? With a low groan, you forced your eyes open, staring up at thick, dark leaves that blocked out the sky almost entirely. Well, at least that told you where you were. Still in Mirkwood.

Ugh.

You made to move, only to be gripped tightly. You blinked, looked down, and blinked again. Those were arms around you-Dwalin's arms specifically, going by all the tattoos. ...Why were his arms bare? Where was his jacket? Oh, wait, it was draped over you. But then why had he rolled up the sleeves of his tunic? Had he been hot? Weird. This place was always so cold.

Still, you couldn't help but smile. You remembered the way Dwalin had attempted (and succeeded) to comfort you when you'd woken from another nightmare just a few short hours ago. You hadn't expected him to hug you or anything, considering who he was, but you certainly weren't complaining. In fact, you were quite pleased.

He was still asleep, you noticed, glancing at his face. Good. You weren't really in the mood to get up right now. Relaxing in his embrace, you freed one of your arms from his grasp and gently ran your fingers over the tattoos on one of his arms, tracing over them lightly.

You'd always been curious about his tattoos. Maybe Dwalin would let you trace over some of the other ones too. You hardly minded where some of them were possibly located. Perhaps you would even find a hidden piercing or two along the way.

"Wanna move those pretty fingers a little lower, lass?" Dwalin said in a low, teasing tone in your ear, his own hands moving to your hips, gripping you tightly.

You grinned, nightmares completely forgotten.

Aragorn had been experiencing these strange head pains since he'd been a child. Fortunately, it wasn't something that happened often, but when it did, there were times when he was all but incapable of functioning.

He hated it.

Unfortunately, today ended up being one of those days.

He was lying in bed in Rivendell, a forearm over his eyes, glad this was happening now rather than while he'd been leading the others here from Bree. That would have been horrible timing, he knew, especially considering what happen-

No, he couldn't think. It only made his head hurt worse.

It was strange though. He'd been dealing with these pains for nearly eighty years now, and still, the severity of the pain continued to catch him off guard at times. He hated that as well.

"Aragorn?"

He couldn't stop the groan of pain that escaped him upon hearing that voice. "Not so loud," he all but pleaded.

You blinked, surprised. The door had been open so you'd poked your head in curiously, though you hadn't expected to see him prone in bed and clearly in pain.

"Sorry," you said softly, shutting the door quietly before moving further into the room. "Are you alright?" you asked him worriedly.

You hadn't known him for long, just since you and the hobbits had encountered him in Bree about a month ago, but you felt like you'd been around him long enough that even you knew this was rather odd for him.

"It's my head," Aragorn said after a moment of what appeared to be contemplation. "It...aches greatly."

You frowned, coming to a stop beside the bed and looking down at him in concern. "Your head hurts? Like-like a headache?"

"Yes, but worse. Far worse."

"You don't have a concussion or something, do you?"

"No, this pain is something that happens at times. I can't predict when it will, but I have been going through this since I was a child."

"Oh." It didn't take you long to understand, and you clicked your tongue in sympathy, even as your frown deepened. "A migraine then, probably. That's what we call them in my world. ...Too bad I don't have any painkillers."

You knew about migraines all too well. You were prone to them yourself, and had been for as long as you could remember. They sucked. A lot. "Well," you said, keeping your voice soft, "you're not going to feel better like this, then."

You moved to the large window where bright sunlight was pouring through and promptly pulled the curtains shut, blocking out a good amount of the light. It wasn't as dark as you would have preferred, the curtains too light in colour for that, but it was certainly better than before. You returned to the bed then, and carefully sat down beside Aragorn.

"Where does it hurt?" you asked softly. "What part of your head?" When he showed you, you moved his arm away and brought your own hands to his head, running your fingers through his hair before beginning to knead. You weren't particularly gentle either, the motions firm. Gentle kneading could barely even be felt over the pain of a migraine.

You knew that firsthand.

It took a few minutes, long minutes at that, but Aragorn soon began to relax, the pinch in his brow starting to relax, much to your relief. Migraines were such a pain to deal with-literally. It was always a good thing when they finally began to go away.

You eased in your motions a little now, pausing in the kneading occasionally to run your fingers through his hair. He seemed to have fallen asleep. That was good too. Sometimes sleep helped migraines. Well, when it wasn't the thing causing them in the first place.

Eventually, you stopped kneading altogether and simply stroked his hair, the motions strangely soothing, even to you...

Aragorn woke slowly, feeling oddly comfortable. The first thing he noticed was that the room was mostly dark-night must have already fallen. How long had he been asleep? Then he noticed his head had finally stopped hurting-thank the Valar. And then he found that you were laying half on top of him in a rather uncomfortable position, fast asleep.

With no desire to really get out of bed right now, Aragorn positioned you so you were lying more comfortably, your head resting on his chest now. You'd helped him deal with the pain in his head-had even remained with him as he slept to ensure that pain went away and didn't return.

Besides simple kindness, what that told him was that you definitely had personal experience with this particular severe pain. Perhaps you suffered them yourself.

That thought saddened him. The pain of these was so great that it crippled even him. The thought of you being in such agony left his heart aching. Was it any wonder you'd known how to aid him?

"...Aragorn?"

He blinked, startled out of his thoughts, and looked down. "Did I wake you?"

You shook your head and braced yourself on his chest so you could look at him properly. "How are you feeling?" you asked him, eyes searching his face carefully for signs of pain. "Does your head still hurt?"

"No, the pain has faded." And the smile you gave him in answer, so sweet, and gentle, and understanding, finally had him asking before he could stop himself. "Have you dealt with such pain yourself?"

You appeared caught off guard by the question at first, but nodded quickly enough, confirming his thoughts.

"They're called migraines in my world, as I think I may have said earlier, and I've been getting them since I was a child as well, much like yourself. We have medicine that sometimes helps with the pain, but I've taken it so much that it doesn't help half the time," you explained with an unconcerned shrug. "But the pain is just something you get used to eventually, you know? I mean, you kind of have to."

Aragorn frowned, a hand coming to rest on your back, long fingers absently stroking up and down your spine. He understood exactly what you meant.

The pain certainly was terrible, and some days were definitely better than others, but while it always bothered and hurt, it was, at times, just another part of the day, frustrating though that was.

"Fortunately," you continued a moment later, a rather coy smile on your face, "when I got a little older, I learned of something else that can help counter the pain. And this, luckily, mostly always works. Or, well, helps enough, at least."

Aragorn raised a brow, curious. "Oh? What aid might that be?"

You grinned. "Orgasms."

Aragorn choked, beyond startled by the answer, and could only stare, grey eyes wide, the hand on your back frozen in place.

"Yep, orgasms." You giggled mischievously. "You should come to me the next time you have a migraine. I'll show you how it works," you said with a cheeky wink.

...Head pains were the least of his concerns right now, because an entirely different part of him had just begun to ache!

It was funny, in an entirely unfunny sort of way, that you had come to rely on something like...this. You'd always told yourself that you would never go this far, that you would never do this, had actually always thought it to be kind of odd. But look at you now.

You smiled wryly, staring at the fresh wounds on your already scarred wrists. The sight was as amazing as it was disgusting. You didn't like that you had to do this-despised it in fact, but stopping seemed almost impossible. And you did want to stop, you really did. But you couldn't.

You'd become dependent on this. Addicted.

A laugh left you-a dry, hollow laugh that held no humour, even as you blinked back tears, angry at yourself for failing yet again to cope with your emotions in a more normal, healthier way.

Breathing harshly through your nose, you cleaned your dagger with the water from the stream you were supposed to have been bathing in. You replaced the blade, made sure your fresh cuts had stopped bleeding, and then pulled the sleeves of your tunic back down to cover them and got to your feet.

You took a deep breath, pushed the emotions back under the mask where you thought they belonged, then walked back to camp where the Company of Thorin Oakenshield, on the way to Erebor, had set up for the night.

The dwarves and Bilbo were there waiting for you to return, some of them eating, some smoking, most chatting amongst themselves.

"Hey," you greeted casually.

"There you are! You took your time, lass!" Bofur exclaimed, replacing his hat on his head.

You shrugged and smiled, appearing somewhat embarrassed. "Sorry, lost track of time. You know me, I like my baths, cold water or not."

You were lying, blatantly lying. But they weren't going to notice anything odd. You'd been like this for a long time now, long before you'd ended up in Middle earth, however that may have happened. You'd become a pretty good actor by now.

Bofur merely laughed, shaking his head in amusement, but handed you a bowl of stew. "Here, eat while it's still warm."

You nodded, accepting the bowl and spoon. You weren't hungry at all, and were actually feeling a little nauseous, but forced yourself to eat anyway. Even though you weren't hungry, you knew you needed the energy. You couldn't slow the others down by being too weak to go on.

You refused to be a burden on them.

You ate slowly, nodding as Bofur continued speaking. You didn't really feel like talking right now, but you didn't want to be rude, so listening was okay, you figured-was good, actually. It kept you distracted.

Bofur probably noticed you didn't want to talk, so he simply told you a story, as if to keep you busy as you ate. You appreciated that. You didn't really want to think right now either.

Bofur seemed to have timed his tale with your slow speed of eating, because he finished telling his story just as you finally finished your stew. Smiling encouragingly, he took the dishes away from you, telling you to get some rest before he moved away to let you be.

Alone, with no one directly beside you, you released a tired sigh and lowered to lay down on the bedroll you'd prepared before heading to the stream to 'bathe', staring up at the cloudless, starlit sky, listening to the crackle of the nearby fire.

You could still hear some of the others, but they were quieter now, since a few of them had settled down to sleep as well. It was getting pretty late.

But like nearly every night, your mind quickly began to wander. That was bad. It always was. You sat up immediately, cutting those thoughts off before they could go any further, then dragged your fingers through your hair, aggravated.

And then a hand took hold of your own, lowering your arm, the same thing happening to your other arm barely a second after. You froze the instant this happened. You knew what was wrong right away, and why your hands had been taken and lowered to eye level.

"(Y/N)..."

"Lass-(Y/N)..."

Your eyes fell shut in resignation. You hadn't been careful enough. You hadn't realized time had passed, that the dwarves had moved around, that two of them had settled down close to you. Close enough that when your sleeves rose when you raised your arms to run your fingers through your hair, they saw.

With no other choice, you opened your eyes and met the worried eyes of Fili and Kili. Unable to look at them, you dropped your own gaze to their hands, each holding your own. Fili had your left hand, Kili your right.

You opened your mouth to speak, and then closed it, unsure what to say. You'd always known someone would find out one day, but knowing that wasn't making this any easier. Not for any of you.

And then the tears came, pooling in your eyes, blurring your vision. Neither of the dwarves had said anything more, but the silence was only making you feel worse. You didn't know what to say, didn't know what to do.

"I-" But you choked on your own words, unable to continue.

It was Fili who acted first, pulling you into an embrace, a startled breath leaving you as Kili followed suit. You remained there like that, all three of you sandwiched together with you pressed in between them.

The tears escaped you now, along with sobs you struggled to muffle. And the other two held you through all of this, stroking your hair, your arms, your back-wherever they could reach.

Fili and Kili knew what you'd been doing to yourself, but didn't know why or for how long, and honestly weren't sure if they even wanted to ask. They saw scars mixed in with the fresh cuts, so they knew you'd been doing this for a long while now. A long while. That only made them feel even worse.

They didn't know what to say to you. This was something they'd never experienced before, neither of them, and they had no idea what comfort they could offer you besides a measly hug.

So that was why they held you now, held you close, held you tight. They didn't want to let you go. You didn't want them to either.

"We have to clean and bind these properly," Fili said eventually, though he made sure to keep his voice down. "I know they're shallow, but that doesn't mean they can't get infected, especially out here." He didn't move until you nodded, at which point he got up to gather some of Oin's supplies.

While he did this, Kili only held you closer. You gripped him just as close, face buried in his neck, waiting for Fili to return. You still didn't speak, still couldn't speak.

The dwarves didn't seem to mind though. Fili came back and together, he and Kili tended to the fresh wounds on your arms. They were both so careful, so gentle. You didn't deserve their care.

You bit down on your bottom lip, averting your gaze. You didn't want to start crying again, and you knew you would if you watched them do this.

You weren't sure what you'd thought would happen if someone found out what you did to yourself-hadn't ever expected it would be positive in any way. How could it be? And yet...

"There," Fili said with a gentle smile, thumb slowly stroking over the bandage he'd just finished tying, "all done. No risk for infection now."

"Thank you," you whispered, your voice barely audible.

Kili, who'd been mostly silent thus far, finally spoke now too, once more wrapping his arms around you so he could hold you close again. "Are you...feeling better now?" he asked you somewhat hesitantly. "Right now, I mean," he added quickly, as if realizing his question could be taken the wrong way.

You smiled slightly, unable to help yourself, actually kind of amused by the sudden panic in his voice. "I'm okay," you assured them. "Right now, I mean," you echoed.

Kili released a shaky laugh, and then pressed his face to your hair. Fili moved in closer on your other side, forehead resting on your shoulder. You relaxed now too, eyes closing, breathing easing.

You were never going to be able to thank them enough for this. For taking you seriously. For helping you. For simply being there.

For caring.

Not this nonsense again.

You were a member of the Captain's Guard in Mirkwood, a fierce warrior who'd killed many foes and helped protect this kingdom-just like the other elves in the guard, and yet... No one ever took you seriously.

It didn't seem to matter how many centuries you'd been in the guard for, or how many foes you'd killed, or how many lives you'd saved. It was always the same thing with no one taking you seriously. Not what you said, and not what you did. And it was all because of one very simple but frustrating reason.

You were short.

Not even by an inch or four, but by well over a foot. Elves were a tall and fair race, and while you were certainly fair, you were not at all tall. You were about the height of a tall dwarf (though there was no dwarf blood in your family), or an older child of man (there were no men in your bloodline either-just elf), easily able to pass as an elfling, despite the fact that you hadn't been one for many centuries now.

Your height, or lack thereof, didn't actually affect very much in your life in general. There were a few inconveniences, certainly, but you were still a strong and skilled warrior. You'd worked hard to earn your position in the Captain's Guard, and joining the King's Guard had always been your goal. It wasn't an easy goal to have either.

Because you were short enough to pass as an elfling (and were often mistaken as one from behind), you were, irritatingly enough, also often treated as an elfling as well. People did not tend to take children seriously, and because you were treated as a child due to your height, you were never taken seriously either.

It was frustrating when what you said went ignored, or when what you did was overlooked. It was even more irritating when others looked down on you-literally, or spoke to you in a condescending manner, as if you weren't intelligent enough to understand them, as if you truly were a mere elfling-even if you were actually older than them!

But the worst thing, in your opinion, was the deliberate teasing. When someone who knew exactly who you were said or did something to belittle you due to your height while being entirely aware of what they were doing.

And these idiotic pranks they played on you were just annoyingly childish. The most common of these pranks was to steal your belongings and place them on high shelves that you couldn't possibly reach.

It was incredibly embarrassing being a warrior like you were, only to have to ask for the assistance of a passing elf to take things off high shelves for you.

And you were sure that was why they did it too-because it obviously embarrassed you. Because it gave them just one more reason to tell you that you weren't really an elf like the rest of them, even though you obviously were.

You tried to stop caring-nearly succeed too, until today's incident. Someone had taken your sword and gear, and had blatantly placed them on the highest shelf in the armoury-placed them on a shelf high enough that even elves of an average height would have trouble reaching them all the way up there.

What made this very bad? The Captain's Guard was to gather, fully armed, for the King's appraisal. This was not a meeting one could arrive for unprepared-doing so could very well mean instant dismissal from the guard, and King Thranduil was not an elf to argue with.

At this point you were not only unprepared, but also a few short minutes away from being late. That was just as bad.

What could you do?

You caught up with the rest of the guard just as the King approached. You hurriedly took your place and bowed your head like the others, trying to calm your breathing. You'd practically run all the way across the kingdom to make it here on time.

King Thranduil walked down the line of warriors slowly, examining you all in silence, only to stop in front of you and regard you closely. You weren't surprised, but it didn't stop your heart from leaping into your throat, or the pit that grew in your stomach.

"You..."

"(Y/N), my Lord."

"Yes, (Y/N)... Your sword and armour are not what they normally are." It was an observation and question rolled into one.

"No, my Lord. They are not." Unable to claim your own belongings off the shelf, but unwilling to go empty-handed, you'd grabbed whatever you could out of the armoury. It was obvious, even at a glance, that you hadn't come here fully ready. But you didn't have any other choice.

"I heard tell that you are a skilled warrior, yet you came here strangely unprepared for your role despite my clear and simple instructions. This only makes me doubt your supposed skill."

"Forgive me, my Lord. I have no excuse." Blaming others was likely only going to cause him to doubt you more, and telling him the truth would only make it all worse. So you said nothing more, keeping your head bowed and your eyes on the king's boots.

He stood there for another moment, and you could feel his eyes on you, assessing you, judging you, considering you. And then he finally moved away, and things continued on as initially planned. But you didn't feel relieved. Not at all. Not even when you were eventually dismissed along with the others.

They spoke around you as you all walked off, discussing what you had all been told, and about the mission you were all to go on soon. But even then, you felt no relief.

Breaking away from the others, you returned to the armoury to attempt to gather your equipment once more. You were in no rush now, which greatly helped...

Thranduil was...confused.

Mirkwood had three separate guards. There was the Mirkwood Guard, the Captain's Guard, and the King's Guard.

The Mirkwood Guard's duties lay specifically within the kingdom's walls and outside its doors. They guarded the kingdom itself, and aided those within it.

The Captain's Guard were those sent out of the kingdom and into the forest of Mirkwood or beyond.

The King's Guard was, as it sounded, the king's personal guard. If he left the kingdom, they went with him. Their duties were to protect him and his own kin unless he said otherwise. If he wanted to travel to the other end of Middle earth, then they were to accompany him throughout the entire journey unless ordered otherwise.

The leaders of the three guards were the ones who chose the members of their guard-meaning the Chief, the Captain, and the King.

If one was a member of the Mirkwood Guard, but the Captain saw potential in them, they would be moved or promoted up into the Captain's Guard. This was considered an honour.

The same thing applied to the King's Guard, but was considered far more difficult, as it was the king himself who had to allow one into his personal guard. There was no higher honour, and Thranduil knew this.

Once every century, Thranduil had the Captain's Guard brought before him so that he could assess them personally and see if he found any of them skilled enough to become part of his own guard.

He always conducted this in the same manner. He would ask for them to come dressed and armed for battle. It was never a surprise. He gave them a very specific date and time so that they would be prepared. This would be his initial assessment of them.

A week or two later, they would then accompany him and a couple of members of his guard through Mirkwood. The forest was a dangerous place where there would always be battle. At least, it was now. This would give him the chance to see their skill himself.

After returning to the kingdom, he would deliberate on who he could potentially see in his guard, and assess them for a further few months before making his final decision.

Every member of all three guards was aware of this. It was not a secret. They also knew that if he heard high praise for one of them, he would be keeping a closer eye on them, already considering them more than he would be some others.

And this was why Thranduil was confused.

Your name was one he'd heard more than once. Both the Chief and the Captain had high praise for you. You'd taught yourself your skills as a warrior (unlike many of the others who'd been taught), quickly catching the Chief's attention. You'd soon joined the Mirkwood Guard, where you'd done your duties well and without incident.

Centuries later, after a lot of hard, diligent work on your part, a sudden attack very close to the kingdom had occurred and you, who'd been guarding the front doors at the time, had ended up aiding the Captain's Guard in battle. You had, in fact, saved the Captain's life.

It wasn't long after this that you'd joined the second guard instead, where you'd been for a very long time now, working even harder than before.

Your goal, Thranduil had heard, was to one day join the King's Guard, his guard-a goal that was ambitious, yet attainable. And yet, you had come not only very nearly late, but also ill-prepared for an assessment you'd certainly known of ahead of time.

That did not make you seem like you were approaching a goal. It only made you appear unreliable and unwilling-a far cry from what he'd been told by the Chief and Captain.

But there was something else strange.

While you had been standing there in that line, your eyes downcast, Thranduil had noticed something. Other elves in that line, elves also wishing to join the King's Guard, had appeared pleased with him berating you. That made little sense, considering what he'd been told about you.

Thranduil found that the strange reaction of those few others had piqued his curiosity.

So, after he sent them off, he began to follow you, wanting to see where you were going to go. And just a few minutes later, he stood in the shadows of the armoury, watching a distasteful scene unfold before him...

"The King did not appear pleased that you came so ill-equipped," said a tall, fair-haired elf.

"Armour suited for Men and a poorly made, dull sword," his friend, a dark-eyed elf, added. "You keep your own equipment in far better condition."

"It truly is such a shame that they have somehow ended up...out of reach."

"Who on arda could have left them so high up there, I wonder?"

"Certainly not (Y/N), though I confess I find it all to be for the best. Elflings do not belong in the guard-least of all the king's personal guard."

"No," Thranduil agreed, stepping forward out of the shadows, "they do not." All three bowed immediately, but he regarded the two males coldly. "Petty jealousy is a trait even most elflings do not have." They didn't speak, so he continued.

"Stealing (Y/N)'s equipment and placing them in a location where they cannot possibly be accessed on their own, simply so you have a better chance at gaining my attention is appalling behaviour at the hands of anyone, least of all members of the Captain's Guard.

"Elflings do not belong in my guard, and yet I find that even they appear to have more respect than the both of you. Treating a member of your own guard such as this is despicable."

His words were cold and harsh, and he meant each and every one. These two disgusted him.

Guard members were meant to trust one another-had to in order to work together. It was clear now that these two not only had no trust for you, but had no respect for you either. All because they thought you incompetent due to your height, yet were jealous that your skills surpassed their own.

And you were very short, yes, adorably so, in Thranduil's opinion. Everyone in the kingdom knew who you were, most calling you, 'the little elf', if they didn't know your name. But what did your height matter in comparison to your skill? He asked them this, the two of them, but they had no answer. He was not expecting one.

"Get out of my sight."

They did so hurriedly, bowing before quickly leaving the room. But the door had hardly shut behind them when it was you who spoke.

"You shouldn't dismiss them from the guard."

Surprised at the firm words, Thranduil looked down, a brow raised. "And why should I not after seeing such poor behaviour on their parts?"

You met his gaze boldly. "They are good, skilled warriors, and work very well with the rest of the guard. Dismissing them will only cause the rest of the Captain's Guard to suffer. It will be difficult to fill their shoes so quickly, especially if you remove others to place them on your own guard, Aran nin." (my king)

You were a kind little thing, Thranduil realized suddenly. Kind and forgiving.

"You wish for them to go unpunished despite what they have done? If I had not witnessed this, you would have been dismissed from my attention and would never even be considered joining my guard. Your centuries upon centuries of work would have been for naught."

You looked away now, again averting your gaze, growing hesitant once more. "I...I'm not saying they should not be punished, just that...that taking them off the Captain's Guard will be punishing the rest of the guard as well, and that is unfair to them. They have done nothing wrong."

That was...fair, Thranduil accepted. "Does this behaviour happen often?"

"...No, my Lord, not so often. It's mostly comments-things that are said to me."

You were lying, Thranduil knew immediately. Lying out of embarrassment, or something else? He leaned down close and raised your head by the chin. "Are you ashamed of your height?"

You blinked, startled, but you kept your eyes on his again now. "I am not ashamed of something I have no control over. It was not my choice to be this height. It was not the choice of my parents. It is something that happened, and likely still would have happened regardless of whether something in my life changed or not. I am not ashamed of my height, but..."

"But?"

"My height means there is much I'm unable to do-much that I have trouble with."

"That may be so," Thranduil said, "yet you have still succeeded in becoming a warrior just as, if not more skilled than your...taller peers. Your height has not affected that skill, it has not affected your intelligence, or your loyalty, or your kindness, or your beauty."

Your eyes widened. "Aran nin..." (my king)

"You will come prepared for your mission in two weeks," he told you. "If at the time you are to gather with the rest of the Captain's Guard this has happened again, you are to come to me directly so the matter can be dealt with. I wish to see your skills with my own eyes and I will not allow anything to impede upon that."

You ducked your head, cheeks heating, but he raised it again just as quickly, making sure your eyes remained trained on him.

"No, do not bow your head to me. Not right now. Right now, at this moment, you are equal to me. That is something else your height has not hindered."

You struggled to swallow around the lump in your throat. Being treated as an equal was just another thing you'd never really had before. And now the king himself was... "Thank you," you whispered, barely able to make your voice loud enough to be heard.

Reaching out, Thranduil gently brushed your hair back behind your ear. "Your height does not change who you are, (Y/N). It never has, and it never will, and the elf you have become is something to be proud of."

Rivendell was always so beautiful, regardless of the time of day or the weather. You absolutely loved it here. You'd been to many places in Middle earth and had seen so many stunning locations, but there was something special about the Valley of Imladris that always drew you back here.

Honestly? You no longer wished to leave this place.

This evening at dusk found you in the same place you'd been spending this time of day for the past week or so-in one of the many balconies in Rivendell. Imladris had the most gorgeous sunsets you'd ever seen, and you'd decided that you wanted to attempt to capture said sunset in a painting.

Unfortunately for you, it was much harder than you'd thought it would be.

You'd been trying for the past week now, but your painting never quite turned out right. And since the sunset only lasted so long each day, you would be left with no choice but to try again the next evening. It was quite frustrating, actually.

That was what you were doing right now. Or trying to, at least. There was just...something about the sunset here that made it so hard to mimic onto a canvas.

But you were doing alright this time, you realized further into your painting. You only had a few moments left before the sunset passed, but this time, unlike the previous days, it seemed to be going far better. That was good...

It was perhaps an hour later, long after the sun disappeared, that you released a pleased sigh and finally set down your brush, examining your completed painting critically.

"Have you finally finished, (Y/N)?"

Glancing over, you nodded as Lord Elrond approached. He always seemed pleased when you came by to visit, and had happily given you access to the balcony of his personal study, which had the best view of the sunset in all of Rivendell.

"It's done for sure this time," you said with a light laugh. "I'm definitely satisfied with it."

"Oh?" Elrond came to a stop behind you, looking down at the painting from over your shoulder. "You have done a wonderful job, gil nin. Your painting has captured the beauty of the sunset perfectly." (my star)

You smiled, pleased. "Hannon le, Hir nin. There really is something about Imladris that makes the sunsets here more beautiful than anywhere else." (thank you, my lord)

Elrond smiled gently. "The sunset is truly stunning, and yet I find that it simply pales against your beauty."

Startled, your eyes widened. You hadn't expected those words at all! "I-" You looked up at him, unsure what to say, suddenly speechless, voice caught in your throat.

Lord Elrond laughed softly, clearly amused by your reaction. "That beauty only increases when you grow flustered like this, you know."

Of course, all that did was make you even more embarrassed!

If there was one thing you knew about Haldir, it was that he liked to train. If there was another thing you knew, it was that he was practically immune to the cold. It was actually kind of strange how low temperatures had to be before he even began to feel chilly.

You weren't the same at all. You didn't really mind training, though it wasn't something you were inclined to do each and every day of your life, and certainly not for so many hours at a time. And even if you had a fairly decent tolerance to the cold, you couldn't exactly ignore it either.

Unfortunately for you, it was really rather cold today, and you were stuck training outside upon Haldir's firm insistence because he hadn't had the chance to do so yesterday. Needless to say, you were not very happy right now.

You tried to tell yourself that it was fine, that having the chance to be alone with your beloved Haldir made braving the cold completely worth it. It did help, but only a little. It probably would have helped more if your fingers weren't frozen, or if your ears weren't aching, or if your nose wasn't numb.

Stupid cold.

Haldir didn't notice at first, more focused on correcting your stance. You didn't like to complain, especially because you and Haldir didn't often have much time alone together. So you kept your discomfort to yourself and shifted as he instructed. You didn't want to ruin these few short moments you managed to have together.

But Haldir was nothing if not observant. It may have taken a bit, but before long he paused abruptly and frowned, brow furrowing slightly as he eyed you closely. "(Y/N)? Are you cold?"

"Just-just a little. I'm fine," you said quickly.

Haldir's frown only deepened and he stepped forward towards you, taking your hands. Eyes widening when he felt just how cold they were, he quickly enveloped them in his larger, warmer ones. "Why do you lie? You're frozen."

You shrugged somewhat awkwardly, watching as Haldir rubbed and blew on your icy hands in an attempt to warm them. "I just-I like spending time with you," you said in a mumble.

Haldir's head snapped up, eyes wide with surprise before they softened. "You should have told me you were cold, Aduial nin. I am capable of spending time with you inside. We needn't remain out here. It will only make you ill." (my twilight)

You felt yourself flush. "S-sorry..."

Here, Haldir shook his head, smiling gently. "Do not apologize, (Y/N). There is no need for it." He raised your hands up and kissed your cold fingers. "Shall we go inside?"

You did just that, not only returning inside, but preparing a hot bath as well because, according to Haldir, you needed to warm up more than just your fingers. The last thing he wanted was for you to get sick. That always seemed to be a great concern of his when it came to you.

Haldir himself was the first to get in the bath, you joining him a moment later, releasing a hiss as you sank into the hot water. You settled down in the space between Haldir's legs, leaning back against his chest as his arms came around you, enveloping you further in sweet-scented warmth.

You were quiet for some time, allowing the heat and steam of the water to warm you both and thaw out your frozen body. It was a relief to you, and also felt quite nice. Nice, because you were only now realizing that you and Haldir didn't actually have to be doing something to enjoy spending time together.

Just sitting in the bath with him, the heat of the water, the scent of the oils, the strength and warmth of his chest against your back, his arms around you, his fingers skimming up and down your thigh-it was all so simple, and so perfect.

"Are you warm now, meleth nin?" Haldir asked a while later. (my love)

You smiled slyly. "Almost. There's still one more place I think needs to be warmed up."

From behind you, Haldir hummed in your ear, the fingers on your thigh moving higher. "Then allow me to aid you, Aduial nin." (my twilight)

Yes, this really was just perfect, wasn't it?

Finally making it to Bree was such a relief. You'd been on the road for months now, hadn't had the chance to sleep on a proper bed for weeks, and the less said about your bathing habits recently, the better.

You made your way directly to the Prancing Pony where you quickly rented a room and immediately headed up to the wash room so you could bathe. It took a while to get all the grime and dirt off-was a bit of a struggle actually, but you felt so much better afterwards, already so refreshed.

With that necessity taken care of, you made your way back downstairs to deal with another: hunger. You ordered yourself some stew (hearty and warm), settled down at one of the tables that gave you a good view of the rest (for safety), and tucked into your meal.

You didn't pay much attention to the other patrons as you ate, too focused on curbing your hunger with a proper warm meal in a safe place. In fact, it wasn't until you finished eating and started slowly sipping your drink that you actually began to look around.

Most around appeared to be men, you noted with no surprise. There were three dwarves seated at the table in the far corner of the room, heads bowed together-and was that a hobbit over there at the bar? Probably a Took. Hobbits rarely came here these days, even the ones who lived nearby. How curious. And over there in the corner opposite you was-oh.

Your eyes met the eyes of another-a keen, grey gaze, heavy and intense, locked on you. Your breath caught in your chest, and there was a jolt in your gut, as if you'd just been punched. But you didn't look away, meeting the gaze head-on.

And it was now that you finally noticed the person's appearance-a man, clearly somewhat older than you. Tanned skin, dark hair on his head and face, his clothing just as dark and weather stained. He was an attractive man, that much was obvious, even from all the way across the room. And it was clear that he was appraising you the same way you were him.

You didn't mind-were actually kind of pleased with the way his eyes lingered on you. The man tipped his tankard at you then, a small, subtle motion that you returned. And then he downed his drink, stood, and made his way up the stairs. An invitation that you could either accept or refuse with no consequences.

You took a moment to finish your own drink and then followed suit, moving across the room and walking up the staircase. You turned to the right once you reached the landing, and were only halfway down the corridor before you were grabbed and pulled into a nearby room.

You didn't fight it. The door shut behind you and you were nearly slammed up against it, chapped lips on yours almost instantly, tasting of mead.

Pinned to the door, you returned the hot, hungry kiss, arching up into it. Your response only seemed to embolden the man. He deepened the kiss, pushing you further into the wood where you could feel his hardening length pressing against you.

His clear sign of arousal only increased your own, an eager moan escaping you as you reached up, tangling your fingers in his surprisingly soft hair.

You broke the kiss and threw your head back, gasping for breath, but the man only took advantage of that, pressing heated kisses to your exposed throat and nipping at the delicate skin with his teeth, each nip sending a jolt of pleasure through your body.

The twinge of pain had you moaning louder, tugging at the man's hair, trying to get him in even closer. But he did the opposite, pulling away from you to unclasp his cloak. You did the same, your hands shaking, lips tingling, chest heaving.

Cloak, and tunic, and trousers, and-the man didn't wait. The instant the last of your clothing hit the floor, his lips were on yours again, just as heated, just as hungry, tinged with desperation.

You were no different.

Life on the road got very lonely after a while, especially when alone. A soft bed, warm food, and a proper bath were not the only desires that developed after some time. It was hardly rare for two strangers on the road or at an inn to spend a heated night together to warm up and sate that built desire before heading their separate ways.

Your hands gripped the man's shoulders, one of his own hands on your breast, the other on your hip, a knee between your thighs. You pressed down against it, rolling your hips as you nipped at his jaw, and he guided your motions until you stopped him suddenly.

The expression on his face was one of confusion, which lightened into realization when you gave him a sly wink and lowered to your knees before him.

He was hard and heavy in your hand, pulsing in your grasp. The man leaned over you, bracing an arm against the door behind you, while the fingers of his other hand came into your hair, carefully guiding you when you took him past your lips.

A low, ragged groan left the man, who'd been mostly silent thus far, the sound oddly satisfying to you. You liked hearing that he was enjoying himself as much as you were. He was being careful though, keeping his hips as still as he could, his grasp on your hair light, guiding instead of forcing.

How kind of him.

He obviously didn't want to hurt you, and was taking his larger size (in every way) into consideration, so that was nice. Pulling back, you pressed your tongue to the underside of his cock, tracing the thick vein back up to the swollen head where you sucked, using your hand on the rest of him.

His hips jerked forward, hand in your hair flexing, tightening its grip, though you were hardly about to complain.

He shuddered harshly, and a moment later, hauled you back up to your feet. Before you knew it, you were deposited onto the bed, the man crawling over you, his body long and lean. He kissed you again, not caring about the taste of himself on your tongue, which really was more arousing than anything else.

You were once more the one to break the kiss, but the man simply dragged his lips down your throat, paused to nip at your collarbone, and took one of your hardened nipples in his mouth. His hand, large, warm, and calloused, moved to your other breast.

He lingered there for a long moment, lapping and sucking and nipping and scrapping, his hand squeezing and kneading and pinching and soothing. And then he moved lower, pressing scruffy kisses to your (S/C) skin, trailing all the way down until he was situated between your already slick thighs.

Your breath hitched at the first touch of his tongue, and when you looked down, you found that he was gazing back up at you, watching your reactions. But his eyes-oh Eru his eyes, so dark, so intense.

You dropped your head back down, shuddering, filled with pleasure that was only continuing to grow. Threading your fingers through his hair, you bit your lip, hips arching up until he pinned them back down with a strong forearm.

His lips, his tongue, his teeth-the man didn't take very long at all to figure out exactly what you liked, and you struggled not to make too much noise (the inn's walls were hardly thick). The man only seemed to enjoy your attempts to remain silent. You could feel him smirking against your skin. The cheeky bastard.

Of course, he ended up getting sounds out of you when he carefully eased one of his long fingers into you, quickly followed by another when a needy keen escaped you. That talented tongue of his on your clit, he curled his fingers inside you.

You gasped sharply, your entire body jerking again and again, swamped with pleasure. The man slowed his movements but didn't stop, working you through your orgasm.

Once you calmed, he pulled his fingers free, and this time trailed kisses up your body until your lips met again, the kiss just as hot, just as hungry, just as desperate as your first one, your desire not yet sated. You both knew this-could feel it. But even then-

"More?" the man inquired, his voice low and thick with lust.

You nodded, understanding why he was asking, and pleased with his concern. "More," you agreed, running your fingers over the scars on his firm chest.

He shifted a little lower, reached between your bodies, and lined himself up with your entrance. Here, he paused, grey eyes searching your (E/C) ones. "Are you certain?"

His concern was strangely touching, especially for an encounter that was only going to last a single night. But you didn't question it, instead raising your hips and reaching up to wrap your arms around his neck. "I want you inside me."

He didn't wait any longer. He pushed into you, stretching you open and filling you exactly the way you wanted him to. He kept the pace slow at first, filling you with long, slow strokes.

You were the one to encourage him to go faster by bringing your legs around his hips, pulling him down closer to you, your heels digging into the firm muscles of his very nice butt.

The man caught on to your hint and did exactly what you, and honestly, he too, wanted. He pressed his face to your neck, laving and nipping at your skin as your nails dug into his back.

It didn't take either of you very long to reach completion, both of you already hovering over the edge. Again, the man reached down between you, this time finding your clit. You only gripped him harder, eyes squeezing shut, teeth sinking into his shoulder to muffle your cry of pleasure.

The man was right behind you, bracing himself on the bed, stifling his own groan in your neck, his hips surging forward, burying himself in you to the hilt as he spilled himself inside you.

You remained still for a moment before he carefully pulled out of you and rolled away to lay beside you instead. And while you would normally leave the room and return to your own now, you were far too tired to move, and the man, fortunately, didn't ask for you to...

You woke at almost the same moment in the morning, greeting one another quietly, and washing up from the previous night's activities before heading down to have breakfast together.

You were planning on leaving Bree directly after, but were going to be travelling in opposite directions. Even stranger, you were going to be going to the area the man had just come from, and he where you had. Because of that, you spent breakfast informing the other of what to expect on your respective journeys.

Conversation between you flowed well, even if you'd barely spoken last night. You both thought the other to be intelligent and well-spoken, so that certainly helped matters.

After breakfast, you returned to your own rooms to finish getting ready and gathering your belongings, before meeting up again just outside the Prancing Pony. You made your way through Bree together, and paused outside the town's gate, turning to face one another once more.

"Stay safe, my Lady," the man said with a small smile.

"You as well, my Lord," you returned with a smile of your own.

And that was that. You inclined your heads at one another in a final gesture of farewell and then turned, heading your separate ways...

Three years went by and much happened, not all of it good, and yet, you never did forget the strangely intimate night you'd spent with that keen-eyed man.

During your travels, you learned that he was a well-known and extremely skilled Ranger known as Strider in the area you'd met him in, but you knew little more than that.

And you were curious about him-had been since that night, but there seemed to be much mystery around him, and no one really appeared to know much of anything about him.

You'd always been curious to meet him again, but were hardly going to be upset if you didn't. You only hoped he remained safe and alive, especially in these ever-darkening days.

You had no way of knowing that he was hoping the same for you right now as well...

Gandalf wanted you to meet him in Rivendell. You'd known the old wizard since you'd been a child, and the two of you often ended up helping one another out. But despite Gandalf's kind disposition, he never really did things without a good reason...even if he didn't often explain those reasons.

So, while you didn't actually know why you were supposed to go to Rivendell, you made your way there anyway. Besides, you liked being in Imladris. It always felt like a second home to you...

It was Lindir who met you when you finally arrived, both of you making small talk as he led you to Lord Elrond's study, where Gandalf apparently was. You knew the way there yourself, but Lindir was a friend of yours, so you hardly minded his presence.

Greetings were exchanged when you reached the Lord's study, and it wasn't long after that you finally found out why exactly you'd been asked to come here at all.

"You want me to join this...Fellowship of the Ring?"

Yes, that was exactly what Gandalf wanted, claiming your skills in both battle and healing would be very helpful to them, especially as they were going to have four mostly defenceless hobbits with them.

Though you were given time to think about it, you accepted readily. How could you possibly refuse after hearing what Gandalf had to say about poor Frodo?

So, with that, you were taken to meet the other eight members of the Fellowship, and it was here that you were met with an unexpected surprise. You masked that surprise quickly and introduced yourself to the group, memorizing names as the four hobbits, the dwarf, the elf, and the two men followed suit.

Frodo, Sam, Merry, Pippin, Gimli, Legolas, Boromir, and...Aragorn.

Finally, after three years, you had a proper name to go with the face (and more) of the stranger you had once spent such an intimate night with at the Prancing Pony. And what a name it was. You needed no explanation of just who this man was. His name alone was information enough about his heritage.

After the greetings, the group began to separate once more, but the man-Aragorn, remained behind, and soon the two of you were left alone in a small clearing, surrounded by trees with leaves that swayed gently in the autumn breeze.

"I'm glad to see you are well," Aragorn said with a small smile. "It has been some time."

You smiled in return. "It has, yes, and I'm pleased you appear to be just as well." Then you smirked slightly. "Though I do wish you had told me your name the last time we met." Your smile turned sly. "I would have so enjoyed screaming it."

Aragorn's eyes widened in surprise, and then darkened. Then he chuckled, his voice low. "I had forgotten how bold you were." He stepped in close to you, enough so that you had to tilt your head back to look him in the face.

"The Fellowship is not to depart for some weeks yet," he said. "I believe this should give me ample time to make you scream my name, should you so desire, dear (Y/N)."

This looked to be the start of something quite wonderful indeed. No, not the start-the continuation, and you were both going to love every second of it.

It had been building for hours.

The Fellowship of the Ring had been attacked suddenly at your camp at dawn, orcs coming at you completely out of nowhere. It was strangely terrifying to be sleeping one moment, only to wake abruptly with an armed orc looming over you a second later.

You reacted without thought, crying out, and just barely managing to roll out of the way in time to dodge an attack. Your cry was what got everyone else's attention, waking them all up where they acted quickly.

The orcs were swiftly dispatched, breakfast prepared and eaten, and camp packed up. You left right after, deciding not to linger here any longer in case there was another ambush, and continued on your path.

The rest of the day was simple enough. You walked a great deal, pausing once for lunch and a rest before going on again. You didn't even think about the orc attack until you were lying in your bedroll at camp that night.

The memory of the morning's attack came back to you abruptly. Strangely though, with the memory came panic as well. You knew you were panicking, because you could feel yourself trembling, not to mention your breathing changed, becoming quick, shallow, and unsteady.

You knew this was happening, knew why as well-it was a very late reaction to the morning's attack. And you knew it didn't really make any sense. But even then, your fear was too great for you to calm yourself, and that was only scaring you even more.

So you lay there in your bedroll, shaking, panting, and crying, trying to keep as quiet as possible because even despite your strange fear, you didn't actually want to disturb any of the others.

"(Y/N)?"

Your breath hitched in surprise and your eyes widened when a large hand came to sit on your quivering shoulder from behind you. You would have known who it was immediately even without the call of your name. The touch alone was enough.

"Boromir..." The name left you in a shaky whisper, but your tears continued to fall, the fear still there-still great.

Boromir's hand remained where it was on your shoulder. "What's wrong? Are you injured? Ill?" There was clear concern in his voice. With ample reason as well. His bedroll was beside yours, and while it hadn't been strange when you'd rolled over onto your side, turning your back to him, it had been strange when he'd noticed that you'd begun to cry.

But you didn't answer him, unable to focus enough to form the right words, and shook your head. You heard Boromir sigh, but instead of releasing you and turning away, he brought his strong arms around you, pressing his chest to your back.

"Shh, shh, (Y/N), you're safe," he murmured into your hair.

If anything, you only began to cry harder. Boromir tightened his hold on you, continuing to whisper words of comfort into your hair, trying to calm you down. You gripped his arms which held you close to him, only to turn over in his grasp a moment later and bury your face in his chest.

"You're safe, (Y/N). I'm here," Boromir repeated over and over, obviously desperate to calm you but unsure exactly how to do it. "Please, (Y/N), shh... You're all right, you're safe, I'm here, shh..."

It took a few more minutes, but you finally began to calm. The shaking stopped and your muffled sobs eased away, leaving you in silence.

But even though you managed to calm down, Boromir made no move to release you. He only held you even tighter, face still pressed against your hair. He continued murmuring to you, tone gentle and soothing.

"You're safe, you're safe, I'm here."

"Thank you," you whispered against his chest, unsure whether you were embarrassed or relieved. Either way, you were glad you weren't feeling scared anymore. Boromir had taken care of that completely.

Boromir pressed a kiss to your hair. "I will always be here, (Y/N)."

The Company had been in Esgaroth for a few days. Kili, who'd been injured during your escape from King Thranduil's Halls, was finally healed enough to continue on, so Thorin, who hadn't at all been pleased by the long stop, told everyone you were to leave at dawn.

As the others settled to sleep, you remained awake in the room you and Kili were sharing. He'd been courting you since early that summer, which gave you some nice bonuses. Plus, Kili made a terrible patient and few wanted to put up with him.

You were still awake, sitting in bed and chatting about what to expect tomorrow. You were still a little worried about Kili's injury, but he told you he was perfectly fine and, well, he was rather convincing.

He was worried about you as well, though. You'd sustained a few injures of your own during the escape, and it quickly became your turn to reassure him that you'd healed up just fine and would have no trouble continuing on in the morning. Your wounds had been minor anyway, with them being a few scrapes and bruises.

You were quiet for some time after that, both seated side by side on the bed, fingers folded together. You were lost in your thoughts about tomorrow, but Kili was staring down at your joined hands. He was thinking about something too, thinking hard, at that. Finally, he came to a decision he'd been contemplating for the last few weeks.

"(Y/N)."

"Hmm?"

"Marry me."

"...Eh?" You froze, shocked, and stared at Kili incredulously. He was looking back at you, his eyes intense. "You- What...?"

Kili's lips curled up into a small smile, and even though he knew you'd heard him just fine the first time, he repeated himself anyway. "Marry me."

"Kili..." You had absolutely no idea what to say to that. "Kili, are you-"

He shook his head to silence you, released your hand, and cupped your face gently. "You mean everything to me, amrâlimê," he said softly. "I want to be with you and protect you, no matter what happens to us." (my love)

But you only got a sinking feeling in your gut. You were happy, of course, but there were still so many problems with this proposal. "Kili...I may never-" But he cut you off before you could finish, eyes intent.

"Don't ever think there's anything that'll make me question my love for you in any way," he said firmly, stroking his thumbs over your cheekbones, "because nothing in Middle earth, not even Mahal himself will ever make me. It doesn't matter where you've come from. It doesn't matter that you might go back. It doesn't matter that you may never come back."

"Kili..."

He leaned in and pressed his forehead to yours, his voice lowering to a whisper. "I love you with all that I am, and my heart belongs to you. I've already told you that before, haven't I? I meant it then, and I mean it now."

"...You're not going to give up, are you?"

He smiled now. "Never. I'm a dwarf."

You huffed out a laugh, half amused, half exasperated. You knew Kili was aware why you were so hesitant-that it was wholly possible that you would return to your own world and never be able to return here to Middle earth.

You'd been hesitant enough to accept when he'd told you he wanted to court you, and you'd been relieved when he'd said courting didn't always lead to marriage. It would be so much harder to go home if you were married.

The problem was that you didn't know if you ever would get to go home. There was a chance you were going to be stuck in Middle earth for the rest of your life, and in that case, marriage would be more than welcome. But you didn't know. No one did.

How could you possibly justify marrying him when there was a chance you would be forced to leave him and never return?

You never got a say in coming to this place, and you doubted you would get a say if you had to go home either, so choosing a place to spend the rest of your life wasn't an option either.

But now that he was saying all of this, you didn't know how to answer. You weren't sure what was best here. On top of your being from another world, you weren't wife material, and were the furthest one could get from royalty, and this dwarf was a Durin of all clans!

But you loved him. You loved him so much. Maybe it was stupid, but that alone gave you an answer.

You breathed out deeply, noting Kili was still watching you, eyes displaying his fear of rejection. You hated seeing him like that, so now you smiled. "Alright," you said.

Kili blinked. "All-you mean...?"

"Yes."

"You'll marry me?"

"Yes, Kili. I'll marry you."

For half a second, he was silent as if in disbelief. But then he released an ecstatic whoop and kissed you soundly, beyond pleased that you agreed. In this moment, nothing else mattered. Nothing but you, nothing but the two of you.

He kissed you again and again, unable-unwilling to stop, because he knew deep inside that he may not survive what was to come. None of you might. Not even you. And he wasn't one to waste time. Couldn't waste time. You only had until morning to savour this moment.

He guided you down gently, until your back was on the bed. Parting your legs, he moved between them and leaned forward, lips touching yours once more. He took one of your hands in his again, and trailed the fingers belonging to the other down your cheek.

"Anlêkhizu zurkur ûrzud, azyungal," he murmured, eyes roaming over your face. "You have from the very beginning." (You shine like the sun, love of loves)

You bit back a laugh. "Who knew dwarves were so poetic?"

Kili grinned. "I hope you aren't about to compare me to an elf?"

Your smile grew. "Of course not." You wrapped your arms around his neck and arched into him to touch your lips to his ear. "Why would I do that, darling dwarf of mine?" You nipped his earlobe, causing him to pull back with a surprised hiss.

He blinked and stared down at you, before laughing softly. "You tease" He leaned back in and pressed your foreheads together like before. "You have no idea what you do to me."

You grinned. "Oh, but I think I do, azaghâl men," you said cheekily. "I can feel it." You shifted your leg, brushing your thigh against the growing bulge in his breeches. "Yes, I'm quite sure I know what I do to you." (my warrior)

Kili laughed as he rose, moving to undress, watching as you did the same, your clothes tossed over the side of the bed without care. You'd pick them up in the morning.

You returned to the bed and Kili's fingers trailed down your pale skin, his lips following their path to taste you, each touch, each caress soft and slow. You sighed softly, your own hands roaming through Kili's hair and down his back, over the strong muscles hidden under his skin.

One of his hands closed around a breast, his mouth closing around the other, and you moaned softly as a shudder ran through you at the sudden heat that enveloped you, only for Kili to switch to the other as his fingers slid down your body and between your thighs. He groaned when he found you, saying something you didn't understand.

You blinked and dragged your fingers through his hair. "I'm afraid I don't know what that means, amrâlimê," you said gently. (my love)

But Kili simply smiled and trailed kisses down your body until he met his hand, his lips quickly closing around your clit. You gasped and tangled your fingers in his hair, hips arching into him. He retaliated by setting an arm over you, holding you down.

"Kili, please!"

Understanding what you wanted, Kili rose again, took his thick length in hand, and positioned himself at your entrance, slowly, carefully pushing in.

He groaned as he sank into your heat, and you moaned at the feel of being stretched and filled. Reaching out, you grasped his wrists, shifting your hips as you encouraged him to move. He did so after a moment, setting a slow, but steady rhythm, his eyes locked with yours.

Kili dropped down to his forearms without warning and kissed you with a sudden passion that caught you off guard, even though you knew it probably shouldn't have.

"Menu tessu, ghivashel," he whispered against your lips. "From the very beginning. Forever." (you are everything, treasure of treasures)

"I don't think I know what that means either, love," you said a little breathlessly.

But Kili just smiled at you again. "Men lananubukhs menu, (Y/N)." (I love you)

Well, at least you understood that. Wrapping your arms around him tightly, you spoke in turn, voice just as soft and loving as his had been. "I love you too, Kili..."

His scars and callouses had never bothered him before. He knew they weren't something that really could have been avoided-not unless he stayed out of battle, and why would he do that? He knew his scars were worse and more plentiful than the other dwarves' too, but he never really thought about it. They were there, and that was it.

And then he met you.

Gandalf insisted you join their company, and no matter how much Thorin protested, well, that argument didn't go anywhere and you joined them, just as Gandalf, for whatever reason, wanted.

Dwalin wasn't sure what to think about it-about you. He was cautious and spent more time than he probably needed observing you. He wondered if he was imagining you observing him in return. He didn't mind it, honestly.

He minded it even less when he realized you were admiring his ink. He was happy to show them off to you and told you the stories behind them with pride. He didn't mention any of his scars. There were days he didn't even remember they were there.

Even when you asked him about some of the scars, it didn't bother him. He explained the battles he'd been in, explained the circumstances behind certain scars. He didn't mind you asking about any of them any more than he did with his ink.

His scars were just his scars. That was all. He never saw any reason to think about them any further than that.

Dwalin was on watch that night when he saw you sneak away, He didn't bother calling after you, not wanting to wake any of the others for no reason after what had been a long and trying day, and was sure you were just going to the nearby river anyway.

Most of them had bathed earlier, but he wasn't surprised that you'd decided to wait until everyone else was sleeping before going yourself. It was the same reason he hadn't bathed yet either. He didn't really mind washing in front of the others, but even he wanted to be alone sometimes. Today happened to be one of those days, and he figured you were feeling the same.

Dwalin refocused on his watch and, after a while, woke his brother to replace him, his own turn at the duty coming to an end. Once Balin was seated by the fire, Dwalin grabbed his soap cake and a washcloth and quietly made his way down to the riverbank.

And then he stopped. You were still at the river...in the river, bathing. He hadn't even realized you were still there and had assumed you'd already returned to your bedroll.

But accidentally finding you bathing wasn't what caused him to stop-this was something that happened to everyone at times, because they couldn't be guaranteed absolute privacy when travelling in such a large group.

Dwalin stood there, frozen, staring at all the exposed skin he could now see-skin that had always been mostly hidden from sight up until now. Your skin looked smooth. Smooth, and flawless, and-and perfect.

Dwalin had never once had any problems with his many scars and callouses before, but now, as he looked at you, so perfect and beautiful, he couldn't help but feel bothered. He was so marred and rough in comparison to you.

How...could you even stand to look at him?

He had feelings for you. Feelings he'd mostly been ignoring so far. That was why he was so pleased to have your attention on him and proud to tell you about his ink and scars.

But now he wondered if he deserved that at all-deserved you. He didn't have you, of course, never did, but now that he'd seen you, he couldn't help but feel like he would never have the chance. You seemed so innocent. He felt like you deserved someone less...marked.

Oh yes, he was bothered now, very bothered. Now that he had these thoughts in mind, he couldn't stop them. He couldn't stop the thoughts, and he couldn't stop comparing himself to the others-the younger ones who had few to no scars at all.

How would you ever be able to see anything in someone like him?

"Dwalin?"

Head snapping up, Dwalin found you standing before him. He wasn't surprised. You always came to talk to him. He couldn't understand why.

Why were you wasting your time with him? This was time you should have been spending with one of the younger dwarves or even the hobbit. So why were you here, standing by him instead?

"Dwalin? What's...what's wrong?"

"Nothin'," he said gruffly.

"You're lying." You sat down beside him. "Why are you lying to me?"

"...'M not." When he heard you sigh, Dwalin glanced at you out of the corner of his eye. You were staring at your hands, which were clenched in your lap, a frown on your face. He didn't like seeing you frowning. "Lass?"

"Why... Why've you suddenly started doubting yourself?" You asked quietly.

Dwalin froze. How did...how had you noticed that? No one else had-not even his brother, but you... Were you really that observant? But more than that, he didn't know what to say. Because you were right.

He was doubting himself, more than you were maybe realizing. But how could he possibly tell you that his doubt had been born from seeing your beautiful skin? You were going to think even less of him than you probably already did, and he didn't want that at all. So what could he say to explain?

As he thought, he stared down at his hands-at the scars and callouses that stained them.

"Are you bothered by them? Your-your scars? You've been staring at them a lot recently." Dwalin said nothing, so you continued, your voice a strange mixture of hesitant and resolute.

"You really shouldn't let them bother you. The scars...they're important, aren't they? Like your ink? They should be something to be proud of, right? That's what you told me before, isn't it?"

Dwalin looked away, tensing. "I lied, lass."

"No, you didn't. You just said it before you suddenly started doubting yourself. Whatever happened to make you start thinking like this, started after you told me that warriors need to feel pride in their scars because they remind you of everything you've not only gone through, but also survived. That's what you've told me, Dwalin. More than once. I've heard you say it to Fili, and Kili, and Ori as well. So why do you not believe that anymore?"

Dwalin didn't answer. He couldn't bring himself to. He couldn't even look at you. But because he wasn't looking at you, he didn't notice you reach out until you took one of his hands in both of your own. He tensed again but still didn't look over.

"You have a lot of scars, Dwalin, that's true, but doesn't that just make clear all the hardships you've gone through? You've suffered so much, and maybe you didn't come out unscathed, but you're still alive, aren't you? Isn't that in itself something to be proud of?"

You paused, hesitated, then added, "Maybe I'm completely wrong with everything I've just said. Maybe you don't have any problem at all, though I don't think that's true. In any case, I'm sorry for being nosy and butting in, but for whatever it may be worth, I like you just as you are, scars, callouses, and ink included."

Though he still didn't look up, Dwalin's eyes widened, and he was sure his heart had just leapt into his throat. "A-aye," he managed to choke out.

You seemed to choose to leave him be at that point, because you patted his shoulder and walked off quietly, and finally, Dwalin raised his head, watching you go.

You were right, he knew. Everything you said was right. He knew that. You were the reason he'd first begun doubting himself (he hadn't been this self-conscious since he'd first lost his hair), but now your words were running through his mind over and over again.

You liked him the way he was, you said. You liked his scars, and his callouses-liked him. And you'd said that like it was nothing, like it was something he should have known all along. Maybe that was true. Maybe he even did know, until his self-doubt had taken over.

The self-doubt he was suddenly realizing he could no longer feel.

He stood abruptly, drawing a few pairs of eyes to him, though he ignored them. Blood was rushing in his ears. Without thinking, he followed after you, finding you not too far in the trees, collecting wood for the fire. He wasn't particularly quiet in his approach, immediately alerting you to his presence.

"Oh, Dwalin? Is something wro-mmph!" Dropping the wood you were holding, you grabbed him by the tunic, melting into the kiss you'd suddenly been pulled into.

Dwalin held you tight and kissed you hard, unwilling to let you go now that he had you. That was your fault too. He didn't mind. He was happy to have you, and going by the way you were returning the almost bruising kiss, it was clear you wanted this just as much as he did.

Right now, he couldn't even remember why he'd started doubting himself in the first place. But when you broke the kiss to laugh breathlessly, he couldn't help but smile. He'd been a fool, hadn't he? He touched his forehead to yours.

You smiled slightly, and stroked his beard. "Feeling better?"

Dwalin chuckled, kissing you again, gently this time. "Aye," he murmured against your lips, "yeh've managed to get me to think straight again."

"Oh, good. I'm glad to hear it." Your hands lowered to his belt. "Take me to bed? I want to see what else you've been hiding from me, be they scars or ink. Or something else entirely," you added with a grin.

Dwalin's eyes narrowed, and the smirk he gave you was positively dangerous. "With pleasure, lass."

He'd been away from home for so long-too long, but finally, after three harrowing months, he was back.

It was late, the middle of the night, and Boromir decided to take advantage of the fact that his father and brother were asleep. He would greet them in the morning. Right now, there was someone else he wanted to see.

He made his way through the kingdom swiftly, making no move to stop or talk to anyone else. Some of the guards and soldiers called out to him, telling him to see to his injuries first, but Boromir ignored them. His injuries could wait. They were just minor cuts and bruises-nothing so severe that they had to be cleaned and patched up immediately.

Boromir could feel his heart pounding in his chest as he reached the door, and it only beat faster when he pushed the door open and stepped inside. The room was dark, but the curtains over the large window had been pulled back, and the light streaming in from the moon illuminated just barely enough for him to see.

There you were.

Boromir felt the always disconcerting sensation of his heart skipping a beat, and he swallowed around the lump that was already forming in his throat.

Not wanting to wake you, Boromir approached the bed as quietly as he could. You remained fast asleep, oblivious to his presence, and he reached out with a trembling hand, smoothing your hair back.

Three months wasn't that long. Not really. But it felt as if a lifetime had passed since he'd last seen you. He'd dreamed of you-dreamed of seeing you again, of being with you again.

He was going to get scolded for it, he was sure, but unable to contain it any longer, Boromir slipped onto the bed, dirtied armour and all, and pulled his beloved into his arms.

"Couldn't you have at least waited long enough to clean off first?" a half-muffled, sleepy voice asked.

"No." Eyes burning, Boromir only tightened his grip on you, burying his face in your sweet-scented hair, inhaling slowly.

"Boromir-"

"I missed you," he admitted, his voice thick. He didn't know what made this time so different, but being away from you had been agonizing.

"Oh..." You shifted, prying your arms free so you could embrace him in turn, your fingers sliding through his slightly matted hair. "I missed you too. You were gone for so long. I-I was scared you weren't going to come back this time."

Boromir wasn't surprised to hear that. He'd been worrying about the very same thing. He always was. But he shook his head and pulled back, cupping your face in his large hands. "No matter where in Middle earth my father sends me, no matter how long I'm gone for, I will always return to you. You know that."

You smiled, gently touching a scabbed cut on his cheek. "I do," you said, "but that doesn't mean I can't worry about you."

Boromir pressed his face to your hair. "I love you."

"Oh, I've missed hearing you say that. I love you too."

He'd missed holding you too, he realized. Just having you in his arms again, whether you were speaking or not, he'd missed it. He'd missed your voice as well, and your scent, and your touch-he'd missed all of it.

"Boromir?"

"Hmm?"

"You smell."

A startled laugh escaped him before he could stop it. "Is now really the moment to mention that?" he asked you, bemused.

"It got you to smile, didn't it? I'd say that's a mission accomplished."

Boromir shook his head, exasperated and amused. "Silly woman," he muttered, pressing his lips to your cheek.

"I live to please." You kissed him softly. "Welcome home, my love."

It started as a dream-a literal dream, for that matter. After a busy day, Thorin, exhausted, finally retired to bed, only to have a strange dream where he found himself standing on the balcony of his old bedroom chamber in Erebor.

That wasn't all that strange on its own. Erebor was a place he dreamed of often, so finding himself there in the dream was really very normal. What did make it strange was that he wasn't alone, as he normally tended to be in these dreams.

Standing with him was a woman who appeared rather confused. You straightened up, looking around with wide eyes until those (E/C) eyes of yours landed on him. You stared at one another in silence for a moment, both of you caught off guard by the others' appearance. Thorin had certainly never seen you before.

"Where...am I?"

Caught up in the moment, Thorin blinked and answered before he even realized it, telling you exactly where you were. And that was how it all started.

That single dream turned into multiple dreams that took place every few nights. Thorin and the woman-(Y/N), you called yourself, always seemed to appear in the same place in all of the dreams-the balconies of his old bedroom chamber in Erebor.

But it was more than that.

Thorin learned that you were not from Middle earth. Not at all. You told him all about your own world, which sounded so different and...impossible compared to his own. But at the same time, he found that he couldn't doubt you.

The clothing you always appeared to be wearing, and your mannerisms, and way of speaking... It was all too clear that you were unlike any woman in Middle earth, regardless of race.

Why you were both having these odd dreams though, and why you seemed to be dreaming about Middle earth, Erebor, and Thorin specifically, neither of you knew. Oddly enough, you got along surprisingly well.

Maybe it was because you didn't know each other and lived in entirely different realities, but you both opened up to each other surprisingly quickly. The fact that you were able to tell the other all about the lives you'd lived so far, about your hardships, struggles, and successes was almost...therapeutic, in a weird way.

And you enjoyed the dreams, both of you, though neither of you told anyone about them for fear of coming across as if you were losing your minds. Neither of you was in a position to risk something like that.

The dreams continued for a long time-three years, in fact. They took place consistently for all three years, regardless of what was happening in your lives. Until the dreams stopped abruptly, at least.

When two weeks passed with no dreams of meeting you, Thorin began to feel almost empty. He'd enjoyed speaking with you very much, and even going this long without it after the past three years...it was just too strange and unwelcoming.

It was two months later when he found out why the dreams stopped. You had arrived in Middle earth.

Despite what others said to him, Thorin knew that his quest to reclaim Erebor wasn't hopeless. It was dangerous, yes indeed, but not hopeless. He had to have hope, even if others didn't.

Because if he, the rightful but uncrowned king, didn't have hope that their true home could be reclaimed, then he knew no one else ever would.

So he gathered the few who were willing to join him-kin, friends, anyone who was loyal to him, and in the end, he had twelve warriors...though perhaps it was a bit much to call them all warriors.

And then, from Ered Luin they travelled to the Shire. They required a burglar and Gandalf the Grey said they would find one there.

Thorin didn't trust Gandalf entirely, but they really did need a burglar, and so he supposed this was as good a place as any to start their search for one. It was in their path, at any rate, so it wasn't as if they had to go out of their way. At least, those were his thoughts until he actually saw the place.

The residents here-the hobbits...no, there was no chance any one of them could possibly be any sort of burglar. Those thoughts were only solidified when he met Bilbo Baggins, the one Gandalf was suggesting.

Though he thought little of the hobbit, Thorin was in no position to stop him from joining their Company after he signed the contract the next morning. He didn't want him there, not at all, not someone so...soft and inexperienced, but Master Baggins had signed the contract, so now he was here to stay until the end, whatever his end would be in this journey.

And so, they continued on, the thirteen dwarves, the single hobbit, and the wizard. They travelled east from the Shire, crossing the river and the marshes, passing the hills, and entering the forest.

It was here that they faced their first true problem in the name of three trolls. Thorin thought it to be very lucky that they managed to get away from that particular situation mostly unharmed.

Unfortunately, it wasn't long before they encountered another problem. This time they were chased by wargs and orcs. It was even luckier that they managed to escape that without any grave injuries. Some of them received scrapes and bruises, and Thorin had to thank Mahal for that being the worst of it.

And then the wizard led them to Rivendell.

Thorin was angry at first, and surely would have remained furious if it wasn't for a certain someone he ended up meeting there.

"(Y/N)...?"

The woman turned to him, the expression on your face akin to the one that had been there when you'd met for the first time in your strange, shared dreams. But this time a smile broke out across your face when you saw him, rather than confusion.

"Thorin!" You ran up to him and embraced him, releasing him before he could even understand what happened. "Oh, wow, it's so great to finally meet you in person!"

"I-I, yes, h-how... How have you...?"

You smiled again, wryly this time. "How have I come to be here in Middle earth?"

"Yes." Although that wasn't the only question on his mind, it was probably the one he was most curious about.

Here, your smile faded. "I don't know, honestly. I was at home, and then everything went dark, and then I was out there," you said, waving a hand off to the east. "The elves from here were tracking down some orcs, and they found me and brought me here."

When Thorin scowled, you smiled once more, reassuringly this time. "Lord Elrond took care of me personally, and they've all been very kind to me."

"I see..." Thorin didn't know what to say. It felt as if it'd been so long now since he'd last seen you, as the dreams had seemingly stopped. But...what if this was just a dream as well? How could you possibly be standing here before him right now? And why now?

"Are you..." You bit your lip, hesitating, and glanced around. "Are you on your way to Erebor?"

Surprised, Thorin said, "Yes, how...did you know?"

"You...you always tend to get this really peculiar look in your eyes when you start thinking about it-Erebor, I mean. It was there just now too, and since you're here in Rivendell with a bunch of other dwarves, and Gandalf too, it just...it seems like this isn't just some road trip with the boys, you know?"

'Road trip with the boys'? Thorin wasn't quite sure what that meant, and despite being a little curious, decided maybe now wasn't the best time to get into the peculiarities of your strange world. Instead, he inclined his head, agreeing with what you said. "Yes, we are heading east to Erebor."

"That's what I thought." You huffed out a breath and looked around again. You were clearly debating with yourself but didn't seem sure how to say what was on your mind. Finally, you muttered out a, "Fuck it," and raised your voice, looking him in the eyes. "I'm going with you."

Thorin froze, and then balked. "Absolutely not! You cannot-"

"Why?"

"Because-because you're-"

You silenced him by placing your hand over his mouth. "I think you were just about to say something really stupid," you said pleasantly. "Figured I'd stop you before you did."

Thorin glared at you. You just grinned. Rolling his eyes, Thorin removed your hand from his mouth, though he didn't release it. "It will be dangerous, (Y/N). It already has been, and this journey has barely even begun."

"Fair point," you conceded. "But if it's dangerous for me, then that means it's dangerous for you too."

"But-"

"And I've seen that poor hobbit you guys are dragging along with you! It'll be dangerous for him too!"

"...You're as stubborn as ever, I see."

Your grin widened. "About as stubborn as a dwarf?"

Thorin's glare only hardened. He looked down at the hand he was holding. Solid and warm, a presence that couldn't be denied. One that couldn't be faked. One that wasn't a dream. This really was your hand. You really were standing here in front of him. This was no dream.

Not this time.

"Thorin?" Your smile had vanished, and you were looking at him in concern. "If you're really that upset about it, then I'll stay behind, but-"

Thorin shook his head. "I-" He paused, hesitating, unsure what to say. The problem was that he wanted you with him. He didn't want to leave you behind.

What if you returned to your world while he was gone, and he never saw you again? If you travelled with them, with him, then at least you would be together, but...but it was so dangerous. How could he do that? How could he allow that?

"You...would follow me?"

With your free hand, you cupped his face. "Of course, I would. You know that, right? Didn't you promise me that I would get to see Erebor for real someday? That you would show me everything about your home?"

"I'll not be able to guarantee your safety. I cannot even guarantee my own."

"I know," you said with a nod. "Isn't that all the more reason for me to join you? If something were to happen to either of us, at least we'll have been able to spend some time together first. Real time."

Exhaling slowly, Thorin leaned in and touched your foreheads together. You were right.

It was dangerous, and there was no denying that, and maybe it was foolish and childish of you to think this way, but you were right. No matter what happened, at least you would have the chance to be together properly. To speak properly. To see properly. To touch properly.

To love properly.

"Thorin..."

"Come with me?"

You smiled softly, encouragingly. "To the very end."

Pulling back slightly, Thorin cupped your face in his hands. "To the very end," he echoed.

And you sealed your new promise with a gentle kiss. A kiss that would be the first real kiss of many more that would come.

You hadn't been in Middle earth for very long, but even you'd noticed that Aragorn was a man of pride. Fierce pride. He was also as stubborn as he was prideful.

That was probably why you found yourself watching Aragorn shiver in his sleep.

You were on the road, along with the rest of the Fellowship, and like most days, had come to a stop for the night. Legolas was on watch while the rest of you slept, but unlike everyone else, you couldn't seem to fall asleep. You decided to blame the cold.

The danger and urgency of the quest made you forget, but it was still winter. While some days were definitely better than others, it was still clearly cold, and tonight just so happened to be one of the colder nights. And it was obvious that you were all feeling it.

The hobbits were all bundled up in their blankets, and really, none of the rest of you were any different. Even Gimli, used to the cold, was covered up. Legolas too, who often seemed immune to the cold, had a blanket draped over his shoulders where he sat on watch.

The only one from you who didn't have their blanket was Aragorn, though that was because he'd given it to Pippin, who'd claimed to be frozen, his own blanket not enough to warm him.

It was a kind gesture, to be sure, and would have been compelling too if it weren't obvious that Aragorn himself was cold. So then, why had he given Pippin his blanket in the first place? Or why hadn't he just moved a bit closer to the fire?

With a small smile, you shook your head, exasperated. That man and his stubborn pride.

Unwilling to take a blanket from poor Pippin, but only having one of your own, you settled on what you thought to be the next best thing. Quietly, you got up and moved your bedroll closer to Aragorn's. He was still shivering. Lowering down, you dropped your blanket over the both of you.

But the blanket wasn't very big, so to make sure it covered both of you enough to provide some measure of warmth, you had no choice (nor was it really a choice at all) but to settle in very close to Aragorn. You weren't sure you'd ever been so close to him before.

You didn't mind it in the slightest. You pressed yourself against his long back, partially to share body heat, partially to share the blanket, and partially because it just felt really nice. He was big, and warm, and finally seemed to have stopped shivering, which was also nice.

Your eyelids started to droop, and before you knew it, you succumbed to sleep at last...

When Aragorn woke in the morning, he was surprised to find not only a sweet-scented blanket draped over him, but an equally sweet-scented body pressed against him.

A little confused, he carefully managed to turn around, but his surprise only grew when he saw who exactly was cuddled up to him. And cuddled was definitely the right word for it.

"(Y/N)...?"

"Ngh...hmm?"

"Are you awake?"

"Mmm...sorta?"

Aragorn couldn't help but smile slightly. You were like a sleepy kitten. "You shared your blanket with me?"

"You were cold."

Aragorn blinked. That made sense, of course, but... You'd moved your bedroll beside his, spent the entire night beside him, sharing your blanket and body heat with him just because you'd noticed that he was cold? "You did not have to-"

"You were cold," you repeated, looking more awake now. "I had a way to make you feel less cold, so I used it." Your frown turned into a smile. "Although, it's your own fault."

"It...is?" Aragorn said, confused. "How so?"

You poked his chest. "You were the one too stubborn to admit you were cold-especially after you gave Pippin your blanket."

You'd seen right through him, he realized. But then again, didn't you always? "Thank you, mellon." (friend)

You grinned. "You don't have to thank me. It was hardly an inconvenience, you know. I quite liked sleeping so close to you. You're very warm. I certainly wouldn't mind doing it again."

Before Aragorn could even register what you had said, you winked and headed off to help Sam with breakfast. After a moment though, he shook his head in amusement and amazement, laughing softly. What a cheeky thing you were.

"Thanks for letting me borrow your blanket, Strider," said Pippin cheerfully, approaching. "Here, did you wan-"

"Keep it."

Pippin blinked. "Keep it?"

Aragorn nodded. "I find I will not be needing it any longer." After all, he had a certain sly little minx at his side to keep him warm.

...You were going to be very irritated with him for letting the young hobbit keep the blanket, but he would be sure to make it up to you with various methods that would provide plenty of warmth for both of you.

He had a feeling you wouldn't protest to that at all.

"Are you married?"

It was a question Thorin was asked many times, and it was a question he loathed. He had an answer, but that answer was surprisingly complex. He'd been married once, but was he still married? Thorin wasn't sure. The most logical answer to that was, well, no.

More than sixty years had passed since he'd last seen his wife. You'd been separated while attempting to flee from Erebor, and he hadn't seen you since. He couldn't even definitively say that you were still alive. You never arrived in Ered Luin if you were, which led many people to believe you hadn't been fortunate enough to make it out of Erebor.

Thorin wasn't sure if he was among those people or not.

Considering it had been over half a century since he'd last seen you and considering what had been happening when he'd last seen you, it made sense to believe you hadn't made it. And if he was being honest, a large part of Thorin did think you'd perished.

But there was a very small part of him that hoped otherwise. There was a small part of him that was hoping you had managed to escape-to survive.

Thorin wasn't able to make himself fully believe in that hope, though. If you were alive, why hadn't you come to Ered Luin? Why hadn't you come to him?

He knew you well. He knew you wouldn't stay away unless you had an extremely good reason to. But he couldn't think of what any of those reasons could be. At least, none that would keep you away for this long.

And it hurt him. A lot. You were his wife, and he loved you more than his very life. Many had perished during the fall of Erebor, kin and friends alike, but losing you just made the hurt so much worse.

Despite the decades that passed, Thorin still hadn't managed to get used to life without his wife, though live that life he did.

He had to do everything possible to ensure a liveable life for his people, still in mourning himself or not. And he knew he was doing well.

Their life in Ered Luin wasn't as comfortable as in Erebor, but it was far better than living out on the lands. He didn't have to look further than his sister for proof of that-she married and had two children.

Thorin was happy for his sister, of course, but seeing any married couple only managed to remind him of his hurt, not that he could ever truly forget it. The bitterness he sometimes felt only made him feel guilty. He was to lead these people-he couldn't feel bitter about their happiness.

Thorin went on with his life as well as he could. He did what he had to, said what he had to, and the more time that passed without any sign of you, the more he became consumed with thoughts of reclaiming Erebor.

They were the dwarves of Erebor and deserved nothing less than that. He wanted revenge on Smaug. He wanted the Arkenstone. The younger ones of his kin deserved to live a proper life where they didn't have to worry. He wanted to find his wife.

Thorin spent many years trying to get others to join him in his quest. It wasn't easy. It was going to be a dangerous journey, and he knew it, even if he didn't want to admit it.

His good friend Dwalin was the first to agree to join, and his own sister-sons Fili and Kili were quick to follow. Four wasn't going to be enough people, so Thorin kept trying, and after a handful of very long months, he found himself with a company of thirteen, including himself.

Thorin was grateful, incredibly so, for the twelve who decided to join him, but he was equally hesitant about some of them. While Fili and Kili had been trained to fight, they were still young. Ori was almost equally as young, but the lad was no fighter. The rest knew to fight and were older as well, but few of them were real warriors, and even fewer had seen real battle.

But Thorin didn't complain. He knew this was the best he was going to get and was surprised these few had agreed at all. These twelve were the only ones loyal enough to join him, and for that, he could truly only be thankful.

As they were tying up loose ends before leaving, Thorin heard from the strange old wizard, Gandalf the Grey. He had no idea what Gandalf wanted, but it didn't seem like he would take no for an answer, so Thorin reluctantly agreed to meet him at the Prancing Pony in Bree.

Leaving Balin and Dwalin to lead the rest, Thorin instructed them to meet him in Bree and set out before them, telling them to be cautious as he departed.

And a few days later, as he sat at a table in the Prancing Pony, Thorin found himself joined by Gandalf, the old man sitting across the table and greeting him with an unconcerned smile. Thorin only scowled in response.

This wasn't the first time Thorin was meeting Gandalf, but even now, he couldn't really bring himself to trust him. The old wizard was meddlesome, that was for sure, and Thorin had a feeling meddle was exactly what Gandalf was about to do.

And he was right.

Though Thorin couldn't possibly say how or why, Gandalf had somehow become aware of his quest to reclaim Erebor and more, learned that he was also specifically after the Arkenstone. He was searching for a burglar, and Gandalf claimed to have the perfect one in mind.

Thorin was skeptical, to say the least, especially when he learned that Gandalf wanted that burglar to be a hobbit. He frowned.

While he didn't know much of anything about them, Thorin had seen a hobbit or two before, albeit very briefly, and from what he could recall, they didn't seem like the kind of folk who would handle a long journey particularly well.

Unsurprisingly, Gandalf ignored his protests. Thorin spent a full hour arguing, but it didn't lead to anything, and he left the inn feeling very unsatisfied, despite having been promised a burglar would join them.

Disgruntled and disheartened both, Thorin took his time heading to the Shire. Gandalf told him he would meet him at the hobbit's home and that a rune on the door would direct both him and the rest of his company, though he added that he would find them and lead them the right way so they knew where to go, as they weren't expecting to stop in the Shire.

Knowing better, Thorin didn't argue. There was never a point to it, but he did wonder why Gandalf looked so...pleased with all of this. What did it matter to a wizard if Thorin and his company reclaimed Erebor? It had nothing to do with him.

With those confusing thoughts in mind, Thorin slowly continued and only became more frustrated as he got closer and closer to the Shire. The few hobbits he passed all scurried away from him the instant they saw him as if he were a bear preparing to attack them.

He supposed it could be because he was bigger than them, but it was still strange. He was a dwarf, after all, and was used to being the smaller one when around men or elves, and he never felt the need to run away or be fearful of them just because they were taller than him.

There was no chance a hobbit would survive their journey.

It was long after nightfall when he finally found the right door. It was a round, green door with a shining brass knob right in the centre, though what really caught Thorin's attention was the glowing rune etched into the bottom through the layer of paint.

He could hear raucous voices as he approached the door and sighed partially in relief and partially in exasperation. It seemed the others had already arrived. Well, he supposed that was better than having to wait for them. Thorin wasn't exactly known for his patience.

The door opened just seconds after he knocked, and Thorin got his first look at the hobbit Gandalf so insistently wanted to be his company's burglar. Needless to say, he was far from impressed.

He entered further, greeting the others when they came out to meet him in the hall, and trying not to scowl when Gandalf quickly revealed that he was there as well. He still wasn't sure what to feel about all of this.

As it turned out, he didn't have much time to think about it, because just a few minutes later, as they were heading into another room, a knock sounded at the door. The hobbit's head snapped up immediately, even as the rest looked towards the door.

"Are you expecting someone, lad?" asked Bofur.

Bilbo Baggins shook his head quickly and looked up at Gandalf. "I thought you said there were only thirteen dwarves!"

But Gandalf smiled a mysterious-looking smile. "That was the plan, yes, but I recently ran into someone who is very interested in joining this company."

Thorin frowned. "You did not mention this to me," he said curtly. This was his company, not the wizard's. What gave him the right to make decisions like this?

Gandalf's smile only widened though, and he started out of the room, glancing back at him from over his shoulder. "I think you'll be pleased with this new addition, actually."

A moment after Gandalf left the room, Bilbo at his heels, the dwarves in the other room began to hear voices that were growing louder as they approached.

"I expected you to be early, my dear," said Gandalf.

"Would you believe me if I said I got lost on the way?" said a woman's voice with amusement.

"Seeing as it is you, not even for an instant."

The woman laughed, and the second he heard the sound, Thorin went stiff, his blood roaring in his ears. That laugh...that voice... It couldn't be possible-it couldn't, but...

Bilbo entered the room first, Gandalf behind him, and following at the rear was someone a large part of Thorin had never dared to hope he would see again.

You paused when you saw them all, and your eyes met, and Thorin was instantly lost. You smiled a smile Thorin could only remember from his haunted dreams, and the roar in his ears grew louder.

There was a very long and heavy silence as you and Thorin stared at one another, everyone else looking between them, some in confusion, others in understanding and recognition. And then Thorin stormed out of the room, rushing past you.

"...Well," you said, your tone pleasant. "Looks like he's only gotten even more grumpy over the years."

Balin was the first to laugh, and Thorin, hearing this from the other room, scowled and left the hobbit's home, slamming the door shut behind him. He needed to-

Actually, what did he need? Thorin had no clue. He still couldn't understand what was happening and if what he had seen was even real. Wasn't it just a dream? Wasn't it always just a dream?

"Thorin?"

His eyes fell shut. How long had he waited to hear that voice say his name? How long had he waited for it to be real instead of just a dream? But how could he prove to himself that this wasn't a dream? He wasn't sure he would be able to handle it if it was. Not right now. Not when he had such an important task in front of him.

"I hope you're not going to stand there ignoring me all night, targhalw." (sweet beard)

Thorin's lips quirked slightly despite himself. "You still call me that?"

"Is it not still true?"

"I have cut it shorter since the last time you saw it."

"So what? It's still there, isn't it?"

Thorin huffed out a laugh, unable to stop himself, but still didn't open his eyes. He didn't dare to. The hope was growing, yes, but the despair was still too strong. Unsurprisingly, you knew what he was thinking. You'd always been able to do that. Since he couldn't prove it wasn't a dream, you did it yourself.

Thorin stiffened when he felt hands on his face, his breath catching in his chest all over again. The hands were calloused, but warm, and gentle, and familiar. So familiar. Too familiar. "You have been haunting me for so long."

You made a soft, sad sound. "I'm sorry for that."

"Where did you go? Why didn't you come back to us? Why didn't you come back to me?" Thorin didn't look at you when he asked this, didn't even open his eyes. He didn't know what he would see in front of him if he did, and a part of him was terrified to find out.

"I couldn't," you said. "I- While I did manage to escape Erebor after Smaug's attack, I didn't leave unscathed."

"Many of us were injured that day. Injuries heal."

"It wasn't just my body that was injured."

Finally, Thorin opened his eyes. You were still standing before him, your hands at your sides now, but your eyes were on his, exactly the same colour as he remembered and filled with more pain and sorrow than he could remember. "What do you-"

"My mind was as injured as my body, Thorin," you said quietly. "In more than one way. I couldn't even remember the attack for a number of years."

Thorin frowned, his brow furrowed. "Where did you go?"

"I wandered the wilds for some time-I don't remember very much from then, but after some time, I was found by an elf." When Thorin scowled, you smiled and poked him. "Just listen before you dismiss it all, will you?"

Thorin couldn't stop his scowl from deepening, but he forced himself to nod and listen. He had to know, even if he wasn't sure he wanted to hear it.

"She-the elf who found me, lived in a small village near the Misty Mountains. There were only two dozen of them, and none of them were warriors of any kind. They were scholars and healers mostly, but their village was safe, so I was taken there to be healed. My body healed quickly, but my mind... My mind took a long time to begin to heal."

Thorin listened raptly. He didn't care for elves being involved, but he listened anyway, desperate to hear it all. Desperate to learn what happened. Desperate to know why you hadn't come to him after your escape from the mountain.

"When my mind started to heal, I began remembering what happened in Erebor. I told the elves about everything, and about my family, my friends, and you. It was a very lonesome village, so they didn't know much, and they sent two of the elves out to learn what happened to anyone else who survived."

"And they told you about Ered Luin?"

You shook your head. "No, they died three days out of the village."

"Died?" Thorin repeated, confused.

"Orcs. And those same orcs then came to the village and-"

"And?"

"They were slaughtered," you said in barely more than a whisper. "I told you none of those elves were warriors. At that time, I was the only one there who knew how to fight, and there was little I could do on my own. The orcs killed anyone they saw and burned the village to the ground. I don't know if anyone else survived."

Thorin didn't really know what to say. There was no love lost between him and any elf, but his hatred for orcs was only growing stronger at the thought of you nearly dying. Again. His jaw clenched, but he didn't say anything.

"I made it out of there, of course," you said, your eyes still on his. You reached out and stroked his jaw gently as if telling him to stop gritting his teeth and relax (which Thorin didn't realize he did immediately), as you continued. "I was alone in the wilds again after that, and I let my anger get the better of me."

"That is rare of you."

You cracked a smile. "Isn't it? I wanted revenge on those orcs. I was furious over what they did. I am fully aware of the conflict between our people, but the elves in that village worked hard to heal both my body and my mind. I will forever be grateful for that. That's why I got as angry as I did."

"Did you slay the orcs, then?"

You laughed, the sound sending Thorin's heart soaring with its familiarity. "No, but that was when I ran into Gandalf. I remembered your father warning me about him, so while I was wary, I told him who I was. He was the one who told me about Ered Luin, and about you, and your quest."

You grinned now. "Of course, I knew that meant I was going to have to join you. There's no way I'm letting you get revenge on that wyrm without me."

Thorin released a long and slow breath. So that was it. That was the reason. That was why you hadn't come to Ered Luin. He'd spent years agonizing over you, and you hadn't even remembered him. It almost made him want to laugh. "I have waited for you for so long," he admitted finally.

You smiled again, small and a little sad. "I'm glad you did. I never meant for it to take this long to return to you. Gajut men, Thorin." (forgive me)

But Thorin shook his head, and this time he was the one to reach out to you, taking your face in his hands. "Menu jemetu, (Y/N). You always were." He brought you into his arms now, remembering and relearning the feeling of holding you close to him. (you are forgiven)

He was relieved. So incredibly relieved that he couldn't possibly put it into words.

He'd felt so much despair over your plight, and while he had always kept a sliver of hope, he'd never allowed it to grow beyond that. The despair would never fade entirely-he knew he would always risk losing you, especially given the quest they were embarking on in the morning, but the hope grew to a point where it far exceeded the despair.

Even if it couldn't possibly be forever, he had you back and that itself was more than he'd ever thought he could ask for.

"I can finally answer that irritating question."

Hands braced on Thorin's chest, you looked up at him, finding that he was smiling gently. "What question?" you asked curiously.

"Am I married?"

You tugged at his short beard, a little affronted. "Of course you are, khuzd allâkhul!" (stupid dwarf-fond, not insult)

"Good." Thorin didn't want it any other way.

Lindir had a secret. A secret he'd had for so many centuries that he honestly couldn't even remember how long it had been. He'd always done his best to keep this secret quiet, but the more time that passed, the harder it became. Every time he saw you, the secret threatened to escape, and it got harder and harder to keep it to himself.

He had to keep it to himself, too. He absolutely had to. He couldn't risk burdening you with this secret of his. You were too...you, for this. He doubted there was any way you would return his feelings.

Yes, that was the thing he'd been keeping so secret. Lindir liked you. Perhaps more than liked too, but he couldn't possibly reveal that to you. You were friends. Good friends.

He refused to risk that friendship by revealing the truth. You were too different. You were a warrior and a traveller, and he was...him.

Yes, you were far too different. It was a wonder you'd managed to remain friends for so long in the first place. How could he possibly risk changing that? Especially when he knew you couldn't return those same feelings.

No, Lindir would keep the truth to himself, just as he'd been doing for these last few centuries. It was fine keeping things the same. No one needed to know...even if Lord Elrond would continue giving him reproachful looks whenever he saw the two together.

Besides, you would probably leave on another adventure again soon. That at least would give him the time to settle his feelings again.

That was what he was thinking until he found out where you were going, at any rate.

"You-you're going with them? All the way to Erebor?"

"That is the plan, yes."

It was a beautiful day out, warm and sunny, and you were standing together on your private balcony. Initially, you'd just planned to chat, but then you told him what Lord Elrond and Mithrandir had discussed with you earlier, and when Lindir found out, he couldn't deny that he was horrified.

He knew you were a traveller. He knew you were a warrior. He knew that you had travelled to every end of the land, fought every foe you'd come across, and returned home to tell the tale of your journey every single time.

He knew this, but even then, he was worried. So worried. More worried than he was sure he'd ever been.

You'd been on countless journeys before, but this one was different. It wasn't as if any of your previous journeys had been safe, but none of them had been anywhere near as dangerous as this one was no doubt going to be.

You were incredibly skilled, so he knew it wasn't just luck that kept you safe. You'd only ever returned with scrapes and bruises before, and while he'd worried about worse, this time, he was honestly terrified.

What if you never came back?

Yes, you were exceptionally skilled, but what could you possibly do against a dragon? The dwarves weren't going to be of much help, and neither was Bilbo. Mithrandir could help, but would he be able to guarantee your safety?

"You are worrying far too loudly, Lindir."

Startled out of his thoughts, Lindir blinked and then looked away, unsure what to say. He was worrying, of course, so you were right about that, but he also knew he couldn't tell you what he was thinking. You wouldn't take him seriously, he knew.

He always worried about you and knew you were aware of that, though it was unlikely that you realized how deep that worry went. "Are you...truly leaving?"

"I am," you said with a nod. "In the morning, I expect, unless the dwarves plan to sneak off in the middle of the night."

Morning wasn't that far away, and neither was night, for that matter. What was he supposed to do?

The secret was bubbling up inside him again, as close to the surface as it had ever been. He so desperately wanted to tell you, but at the same time, he was too afraid to do it. He was afraid that you wouldn't return his feelings and that your friendship would end and he would never have anything like this ever again.

But at the same time, if you left, and if something terrible happened to you, then you would never know, and your friendship would still be ruined because you would be gone forever.

Lindir heard you sigh softly, and his eyes snapped over to you. Your hands were on the stone rail of the balcony, and you were looking out over Imladris with a look in your eyes he couldn't quite place. Sadness, loneliness, regret, fear-he swore he saw those expressions pass through your eyes, but they were moving too fast for him to know for sure.

Or maybe that was just what he thought he saw. Maybe he thought that because that was how he was feeling.

"Lady (Y/N)?"

"Hmm?"

"There is something I must say before you leave," he said abruptly. "There is something I have been meaning to tell you for centuries, but I have never dared to do it because I don't want to ruin this friendship that we have built, but I also cannot let you leave this time without telling you, even though I know doing so will only burden you further, and you don't have to say anything, but I merely wanted to-to-"

You looked at him with an amused smile. "Slow down, Lindir. Breathe."

The words died on his tongue, and so he just obeyed, and he breathed, and he scolded himself for blurting everything out. Everything except the most important part.

"What are you trying to say?"

"I-"

The sun had started to set, and he knew he was running out of time. The dwarves weren't going to wait until morning. They were going to leave as soon as it was dark, he was sure, but that only meant you would be leaving too, and frighteningly soon.

It was now or never, he realized with a jolt of panic. If he didn't say it soon, there was a good chance he would never be able to.

"Lindir?"

"I have fallen in love with you."

You blinked, surprised, and Lindir paled. He was breathing harshly as if he'd just run all around Imladris, and while he was relieved that he had finally spoken his secret out loud, he was still terrified about what was going to happen next.

But you smiled gently, and you stepped closer to him, and you cupped his jaw in your hands, and Lindir inhaled sharply at the touch, sure he was going to faint.

"I really wish you'd told me sooner," you said, and he could hear the smile in your voice.

"L-Lady (Y/N)...?"

You smiled again, and you leaned in, and you touched your lips to his gently. He was almost embarrassed by the sound that left him, but you only kissed him again, and again, before you pulled back, and Lindir realized that he was gripping your hands so tightly he was sure to leave marks on your skin.

"I love you too, Lindir."

It was so wonderful to hear those words, and he was happy about it, of course, but there was no time to bask in your shared joy and love.

"I must go," you said a little regretfully. But when you tried to move away, Lindir only tightened his grip on you, and you looked at him again, eyes searching his. Whatever you saw in his eyes caused pain to flash through your own.

"(Y/N)..."

You kissed him again, harder this time, and with a passion that knocked the breath out of Lindir instantly. And then you touched your lips to his cheek in an innocent kiss, smiled softly, and said, "I'll be back. I swear it."

And this time, Lindir released you, and he watched you as you looked out over Imladris one more time before you retreated into your room to pick up your sword. And then you were gone, leaving him all alone.

But he trusted you. Trusted in your skill. You were going to return. He was sure of it. And when you did, Lindir could tell you properly about the love he felt for you.

Like most days, you were on patrol in the forest of Mirkwood. It was a pleasant day out, partly cloudy, warm, and breezy, but you couldn't enjoy it as much as you wanted to.

There were spiders nearby.

They were growing bolder, so much bolder than they'd ever dared to be before. They'd always kept their distance from the kingdom before, but it seemed as if they no longer feared King Thranduil or his elven magic, and that was certainly unnerving, to put it mildly.

How much closer would they come? You didn't like to admit it, but you honestly feared the answer.

Sighing softly, you shook your head and refocused on your patrol. You had a job to do. You couldn't allow yourself to become distracted like this. That would bring harm to not only you but the kingdom as well, and you couldn't allow that. Not to mention, the king was awfully intimidating, and you really had no desire to get on his bad side.

Resuming your patrol, you walked for a few more minutes before you paused. You could hear something in the distance. It was just some rustling of the foliage, but it was too loud to be natural. The breeze wasn't strong enough for it.

Eyes narrowed, you tried to look through the trees and reached for your sword. Something was moving out there, moving low to the ground around the base of the trees. No, not just there, you realized with a sudden jolt.

Above!

Eyes widening, you jumped aside swiftly, and just in time too. One of the massive spiders hit the ground where you'd been standing just an instant before, and it hissed at you menacingly, the sound sending a shiver through your body.

And so you fought, and you weren't surprised when a second spider emerged from the trees-the one you'd spotted earlier, and then a third one appeared as well.

You were a skilled warrior and were exceptionally talented with your blade, but when a fourth spider appeared and you saw that you were surrounded as the spiders began to close in around you, even you were forced to admit this wasn't looking good.

And then an arrow whooshed past your ear and struck the spider in front of you.

Relieved, you took advantage of the momentary distraction to attack that same spider, killing it. You heard the spider behind you shriek in pain and knew it had been struck with an arrow as well, so you focused your attention on the two spiders at your sides.

You killed both of them, and you weren't surprised to see the one behind you was dead by the time you turned around, three arrows sticking out of its disgusting body. Not sensing anything else concerning nearby, you allowed yourself to relax and lowered your sword.

"Were you injured?"

With a small smile, you turned around. "I'm all right. You have good timing. I appreciate the help, Ernil nin." (my prince)

Legolas returned the smile and then looked down at the dead spiders littering the forest floor. "This is a smaller pack of them than usual."

You nodded, agreeing. "Yes, generally, there are at least half a dozen of them, if not more." Wiping your blade clean, you sheathed it and said, "I wonder if there were only four of them on purpose."

Kneeling to examine the spiders and see if he could get any of his arrows back, Legolas glanced up at you. "On purpose?" he repeated curiously.

"These ones appeared much closer to the kingdom. I wonder if they were scouting to see just how close they would be able to get."

"Do they have enough intelligence for that?"

You only shrugged. "Who can say?"

There was a strong gust of wind, the leaves overhead rustling loudly.

Finished with what he was doing, Legolas straightened back up and looked over at you, seeing that you were brushing a fallen leaf off your shoulder.

"In any case," you said, "I think it would be best if we continued our pa-"

"There is a leaf in your hair."

Your head snapped up just as Legolas reached for the leaf. You felt his fingers in your hair, and when he moved his hand away, his eyes lowered, meeting yours. You both paused. You were so close. When had you moved so close to one another?

"Legolas...?" Why were you whispering? You weren't sure.

Instead of answering verbally, Legolas closed the breath of distance between you and kissed you tenderly, his lips soft against yours. Reaching up, you ran your fingertips along his jaw, and the kiss broke, though you didn't move apart.

"Was there actually a leaf in my hair, or was this your plan all along, Ernil nin?" (my prince)

Legolas smiled. "I suppose you will never know." He kissed you again, just as sweetly, and around you, the wind continued to gust.

It wasn't long before both of you ended up with leaves in your hair.

Dwalin was already gone when you woke that morning. You were unsurprised but still bothered. It'd been like this every day for nearly three months now. King Thorin had been keeping your husband frustratingly busy recently.

With a sigh, you got out of bed. As much as you would have enjoyed staying in bed longer, you had plenty to do. It wasn't as if you didn't know how to keep busy, nor did you have time to sit around moping. But that didn't mean you couldn't or wouldn't miss Dwalin. The days were too long without him, that much was for sure...

You spent all day working hard at your job and were glad when you returned home in the evening to begin preparing dinner. You were starving!

You hoped Dwalin would return on time to eat with you tonight, even though you already knew better than to wish for something so futile. You could barely even remember the last time you'd been able to share a meal.

But it wasn't like you blamed him, or anyone else, for that matter. Dwalin had an important job, and it was good to see that Thorin trusted him enough to get it done. There weren't many others in Erebor who could say the same.

That didn't make you miss him any less, though.

You finished cooking, finished eating, finished cleaning, finished bathing, and had nearly finished your book when you heard the door open. With a sigh of relief, you set your book down and slid out of bed so you could reheat some food. Dwalin was sure to be hungry after working so hard all day.

The fire was still lit, so it didn't take too long, and you'd only just set the fully laden plate and filled tankard on the table when you heard Dwalin enter the room.

You turned around, a greeting on your lips, though that greeting turned into a sound of surprise when, instead of saying anything himself, Dwalin suddenly scooped you into his muscled arms and hugged you tight.

Well, this wasn't normal for your usually stoic warrior. He didn't let you go or even loosen his grip when you tried to pry yourself free, and with his forehead pressed against your temple, you couldn't get a look at his face either.

You returned the hug anyway, bringing your arms around him, but you couldn't help but feel a bit worried "Dwalin?"

"Been a long day," he muttered. "Missed yeh."

You smiled gently. It wasn't often that Dwalin admitted these sorts of things, and you savoured the rare words. "I've missed you too. You've been so busy these last few months."

"Thorin's been nagging me to get the whelps trained up," said Dwalin, lowering his head to press his face to your neck.

You snickered even as you rubbed Dwalin's back comfortingly. "Shall I tell King Thorin you said that?" you asked teasingly.

"Don't yeh dare!" said Dwalin with a warning nip to your throat.

As much as you enjoyed being held, you laughed lightly and pulled away reluctantly. "Your dinner's getting cold. Go eat," you said, giving him a little shove towards the table.

Noticing the plate, Dwalin flashed you a quick grin. "What would I do without yeh, ghivashel?" (treasure of all treasures)

You laughed again. "I wonder!"

You'd been waiting for so long. Bard had left for work before you'd even woken that morning and now it was dark out, the sun having long since set. Despite the lateness of the hour, there was still no sign of his return.

Bard was busy, of course. You knew that all too well, but this was ridiculous. The townsfolk criticized him nearly every day and often said he was too grim for his own good, but you knew they would never survive without him.

They relied on him for so much, and no matter how frustrating they were to deal with, Bard never said no to them, even if you sometimes wished he would.

From your seat next to the window, you glanced outside. Still no sign of Bard. You sighed and tried to turn your attention to your book again.

You'd been trying to read the same passage in the book for at least two hours now but kept interrupting yourself to look out the window, hoping to catch a glimpse of your returning lover.

You sat in an awkward position, trying to keep yourself uncomfortable, hoping it would keep away the sleep that was beginning to creep in. You hadn't been able to talk to Bard for days now because he kept leaving before you would wake, and returning after you would fall asleep. It wasn't fair at all.

It didn't take much longer for your eyes to start to droop. You would jerk awake and read a sentence or two, only to nod off again a few seconds later. You'd been hoping you would manage to stay awake until Bard returned home today, but it was starting to seem more and more unlikely.

Bard was exhausted. He couldn't remember the last time he'd gotten some decent rest. He didn't know why everyone suddenly needed his help at the same time, but he couldn't bring himself to refuse them, even if he knew that was exactly the reason why they did it.

But he was finally free to return home, and more, didn't have to do any work tomorrow. Or rather, later today, as it was well after midnight. The thought of going to bed had never sounded more appealing to him.

The streets, docks, and piers were almost entirely deserted as he made his way home, the tavern the only place that was flooded with life. He usually stopped for a drink on his way back, but he didn't bother with it today. All he really wanted to do was sleep.

The house was dark and silent when he entered, but he hadn't been expecting otherwise. You would have gone to bed hours ago. He couldn't wait to join you.

With a tired sigh, Bard stripped off his jacket and boots, and he was putting them away when he heard the sound. There was a strange shuffling sound coming from nearby and he whipped around in alarm, only to see a shadowed form in the chair closest to the window. "(Y/N)?"

You jerked awake and before Bard could say anything, he received a book to the face.

"Gah! (Y/N)!" he exclaimed in both shock and pain, grasping his jaw where the corner of the book had caught him.

You gasped. "Bard!?" You hurried over to him quickly so you could get a better look at him. "Are you all right? Did I hurt you?" You cupped his face and then tutted. "Oh dear, it left a cut." Trying to be soothing, you gently stroked the skin just under the cut on his jaw. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have thrown the book at you."

Bard laughed softly. "I'm the one who startled you. Why were you sleeping here instead of in the bedroom?"

You looked away, suddenly embarrassed. "I...was waiting for you," you admitted.

Bard frowned. "Waiting? Why? Is something wrong?"

"No, no, I just- It feels like it's been so long since we've even been able to speak to each other. I thought I would stay awake a little later so we could spend some time together before you had to leave again in the morning..." you said, trailing off.

Bard's expression softened and he leaned in, kissing your temple. "I've missed you too, sweetheart. And luckily for both of us, I don't have to work tomorrow."

Your eyes lit up immediately. "You don't?"

"Not even for a minute. Do you know what that means?"

You opened your mouth to answer, only for Bard to clap his hand over your mouth before you could even say anything. You wiggled your eyebrows suggestively instead, and Bard sighed.

"I knew I shouldn't have asked you that. Your mind always jumps to the most inappropriate places."

"Well, the bedroom is right there," you said when he lowered his hand.

Bard glanced at the bedroom's doorway, then looked at you again, a sudden fire in his eyes. "Forget it. The sofa's closer." He pushed you onto it, following after you.

"Bard!"

Neither of you ended up getting much sleep that night.

It had been months since you'd last seen Thranduil. You knew he was incredibly busy-he was a king, after all, but this was starting to get ridiculous.

You were his wife, and yet, you saw him less than anyone else. Even the prisoners in the dungeons got to see Thranduil more often than you did! That really wasn't fair at all!

You were being selfish, you knew that better than anyone. But you couldn't help it. You missed your husband. You missed Thranduil. Surely it would be alright for you to give in to that selfishness at least this once?

Mind made up, you thought of a plan, and two nights later, put it into action...

The throne room was empty when you slipped inside, just as you'd been expecting it to be. You glanced around just to make sure, but you didn't see a soul. Satisfied that you were alone, you crossed the room and climbed up the stairs to the throne.

You felt a little naughty doing this, you thought, lowering onto the throne and crossing your legs elegantly. Smiling slightly, you smoothed your hands down the silk robe you were wearing.

It was far too large for you, unsurprisingly, considering it didn't belong to you, but it was so unbelievably soft that you were actually sort of jealous.

Why couldn't your robes be this soft? Not to mention how wonderful the silk felt against your very bare skin.

Yes, you felt incredibly naughty indeed.

Hopefully, Thranduil wouldn't keep you waiting for too long. You had quite a pleasant encounter in store for him. You squeezed your thighs together, already anticipating his reaction.

You couldn't wait.

The prisoners were beginning to infuriate him. He spent hours interrogating them, but they still refused to answer him. Too angry to continue, Thranduil stormed out of the dungeons. He would try again later.

Pausing, he glanced outside at the sky. It was nearly dawn. There was no use in returning to his chambers now. He could go another day without rest.

Turning on his heels, he headed for the throne room instead. It wasn't going to be much longer before others started making him listen to their inane requests and problems. The sooner he got to his throne, the better.

The guards hadn't arrived yet, Thranduil noted as he approached the doors a few minutes later. Well, that was fine. He was early anyway. They would be here in a moment or two, he knew.

But the instant he entered the room, he found himself glad that no one had arrived yet. His precious wife was seated upon his throne, fast asleep and wrapped in one of his robes that pooled around your feet.

He should have been angry at the sight, or at least irritated by it, by your daring, by your audacity. But he wasn't. He couldn't be.

Quietly, Thranduil made his way across the room and ascended the stairs, stopping in front of his throne. You didn't stir.

What had you been thinking to do something so brazen? But then you shifted in your sleep, and the robe slipped off your shoulder, and Thranduil's eyes widened. Your plan, whatever it was, was even more brazen than he'd thought.

He gazed down at his dear one, contemplating. What was he going to do about this?

Then he smiled. Yes, he had an idea. A wicked idea for a wicked punishment for a very wicked woman. And he would enjoy every second of that punishment indeed.

In your sleep, you shivered.

It'd been so long since you'd all had the chance to rest in a safe place. With a heavy sigh, you dropped onto the pile of hay that was to be your bed tonight. You'd never slept on hay before. But then again, there were a lot of things you hadn't done before you'd suddenly (and quite randomly) ended up in Middle earth.

But there was a first for everything, you supposed, and you'd certainly experienced many of those firsts in Middle earth. Some of those firsts had been good, others less so, but they were firsts all the same. And Fili, you thought, was a large part of a lot of those firsts. The good ones, fortunately.

You watched him from the little, slightly more secluded corner you'd chosen for yourself. He was busy talking to Thorin, though it looked like Fili was the one doing most of the talking-unsurprisingly. You smiled.

Fili was the one who'd found you when you'd ended up in Middle earth, because you'd quite literally fallen from the sky right in front of him. He'd drawn a blade on you at first. It was definitely the most dramatic way you'd first met a lover, that was for sure.

You'd gotten through that misunderstanding eventually though, and now, four years later, were not only lovers, but were well on track to getting married. Getting Erebor back was a pretty big obstacle in your path, though. That obstacle seemed smaller now that you'd managed to cross the Misty Mountains, but only a little. You still had a long, arduous journey ahead of you.

But at least you could have a peaceful night or two, provided Beorn didn't eat you all first.

"You doing all right, lass?"

Pushing those somewhat unpleasant thoughts away, you smiled as Fili approached. "I'm fine." You glanced around, but saw that the others had mostly already settled down for the night. "Aren't you going to bed?"

"Is that an invitation?" asked Fili, wiggling his eyebrows.

You scoffed. "You wish."

Laughing, Fili dropped onto the hay next to you. "Are you all right?" he asked again, his brow pinched in concern.

Your smile softened. "I'm just a little tired." With goblins, orcs, and wargs on your tails, you hadn't gotten much time to rest.

Reaching out, Fili stroked your cheek gently. "You look tired," he said in confirmation. "I won't keep you up, then." He made to get up, but you stopped him.

"Are you staying up?" you asked worriedly. "You look even more tired than me," you pointed out, rubbing the dark shadows under his eyes.

"I didn't want to bother you."

"You never bother me."

"Now that's a lie and you know it, lass!"

You quickly muffled a laugh behind your hand, and Fili grinned. Cupping your face in his hands, he leaned in to kiss you gently. You thought he would stop and head off after just one kiss, but instead of stopping, he kissed you a second time, and then a third.

Again and again he kissed you, every touch of your lips soft and gentle. You pushed yourself closer to Fili, your lips sliding over his,  and fisted his tunic in your hands. The kisses were chaste, but you wanted more. So much more. But Fili didn't let it go any further.

He touched his forehead to yours, his eyes shut, and it was only now that you realized just how breathless you were.

"Fili," you said pleadingly, tightening your grip on his tunic.

Smiling slightly, Fili stroked your cheekbones with his thumbs. "You're the sweetest thing I've tasted in weeks, azyungal," he murmured against your lips. "It's really, really tempting." (love of loves)

You slid in closer, pressing as close as you could without climbing onto his lap. "Fili, please, more."

Fili groaned. "Just one more," he conceded. "Just one last taste..."

It was gloomy inside when you woke in the morning. You blinked blearily, wondering what time it was. You could hear rain falling heavily outside. No wonder it was still so dark. You shifted around slightly to free your arm from under you, and suddenly realized you weren't alone.

Well, if Haldir was still in bed, it couldn't possibly be time to get up yet. Haldir was always up and out of bed long before you were, and since he was fast asleep, it was likely still very early.

Glad, because you really didn't want to get up quite yet, you began to relax. The peaceful patter of the rain and the darkness made it so easy for you to nod back off, and you hoped you could get at least another hour of sleep (and preferably more than an hour)...

When you woke again, it was a slow and groggy affair. It was still rather gloomy, you noted as you struggled to open your eyes. You could still hear the rain outside, too. Haldir was still in bed as well, his chest pressed against your back as you both lay on your sides.

Haldir always made sure to protect your back, whether it was in battle or in bed. The thought made you smile.

When you felt fingers skim over your bare hip, your smile widened. "Should you not be off on patrol?" you asked.

"Later," said Haldir quietly, nosing along your hairline. "I'm tired."

"Are you indeed?" you said when you felt his fingers flex slightly on your hip. Those fingers started moving higher, skimming from your hip up to your waist, and then down, where they brushed the underside of your breast.

"Very tired," Haldir mumbled against your nape as he cupped your breast. His thumb circled your areola until your nipple peaked under his touch, and he ran soft little kisses along your neck and bare shoulder.

You sighed softly, enjoying the gentle touches. "What are we doing, mell nin?" (my beloved)

"Sleeping," he murmured.

"Oh, so this is sleeping now?" you asked. And when Haldir only hummed his agreement, you giggled lightly.

You met the hand on your breast, but when you did, Haldir slipped his hand out from under yours and skimmed it back down your side, leaving your own hand on your breast. You kneaded, and smoothed, and pinched, like you knew he wanted you to, and sighed softly when Haldir's fingers reached your thigh.

He cupped your thigh and then lifted it, slipping one of his legs between yours, keeping you open for him. Firm fingers stroked your inner thigh and then slipped to where you both knew you wanted them.

"Wet already, Aduial nin?" asked Haldir, easing two fingers inside you. (my twilight)

"My husband has very talented hands, you know."

"No more talented than your own."

You couldn't stop the laugh that bubbled out of you, and nor could you stop that laugh from turning into a moan of pleasure when Haldir curled his fingers inside you, his thumb brushing over your clit.

Haldir left kisses along your shoulder, but when you moaned again at another twist of his wrist, he laughed quietly against your skin. "You always respond to me so eagerly."

You smiled and reached behind you to grasp his hip. "I did say you have very talented hands."

"Is it only my hands that are talented?" asked Haldir, pushing his hips forward.

"I'll not be inflating that ego of yours any further, meleth nin," you said breathlessly. (my love)

"You already have," said Haldir, voice filled with humour. He pulled his fingers free, but you didn't even have time to grieve their loss before Haldir lifted your leg a little higher and shifted his hips again.

He filled you slowly, inch by inch, until he could go no further, and you closed your eyes, savouring the feeling of having him inside of you. You doubted you would ever tire of it.

Reaching behind you again, you gave Haldir's hip a squeeze-your signal to him that he could move. He knew you always needed a moment to adjust.

He moved slowly, rocking into you as he held you close, and you made a soft sound of pleasure.

You rocked together like that for a while, you meeting each one of Haldir's slow thrusts, your hand on your breast again, his lips lingering on your shoulder and nape. He slipped his hand between your bodies once more, fingers circling your swollen clit, and you whimpered as you neared your peak.

"H-Haldir-"

"Just a moment longer," he said hoarsely, pulling his hips back and thrusting forward sharply. "Hold on for just a moment, meleth." (love)

You gasped and reached behind you again, this time sinking your hand into Haldir's hair as your back arched. The pressure built and built, and Haldir gave another sharp thrust of his hips, and you peaked, your body curling in on itself. Haldir joined you just seconds later, singing praises in your ear while he filled you with warmth.

You laid quietly for a moment, catching your breath, and then Haldir pulled you back against him, your back to his chest, and pressed a kiss to your bare shoulder. You could still feel him pulsing inside you.

"Gelu aur, meleth bain nin," he said gently. (good morning, my beautiful love)

"Beautiful now, am I?"

Haldir smiled against your shoulder. "Ui. Nin lithiach." (always, you enchant me)

You giggled. "Be careful not to flatter me too much, dearest, or I may never let you leave this bed." When Haldir laughed quietly, you closed your eyes, basking in the peaceful moment.

Outside, the rain continued to fall.

You woke suddenly. You weren't sure why you were awake at first and lay in silence. Then you heard the sound. It was a quiet little gasp, barely audible, but you quickly realized it was coming from somewhere beside you. You rolled over, a hand immediately going to Thranduil's shoulder.

It was a warm, quiet morning, the sun rising slowly, illuminating the large bedroom more and more with every passing minute. You and Boromir had woken a little while ago to the singing (or perhaps screaming was a better word), birds, but hadn't quite been able to get themselves out of bed yet.

It was a rare, lazy morning for both of you.

Boromir had been away for weeks and weeks and had finally returned only late last night. And while you were both relieved he was home, he was too tired to do much of anything today, and you weren't willing to let him go quite yet either.

He still had to report both his success and return to his father, but Boromir supposed he could get away with staying in bed for a little while longer.

Though you usually urged Boromir to get these sorts of things done promptly, you didn't say a thing about it this morning. He'd been gone for three months, and you'd missed him terribly. You, too, figured it would be all right to lie in together, just for now. Just for today.

You burrowed into him, hoping he wouldn't get up if you did, and he laughed softly, held you closer against him, and brushed his fingers through your hair.

He'd missed you just as much as you had him during the time he'd been away. He'd hurried to the bedroom immediately to see you when he'd returned, though you'd banished him briefly, ordering him to wash and change before he could rejoin you.

And now here he was, a few short hours later, holding his love in his arms, stroking your hair as he thought about how much he'd missed quite literally everything about you.

How many times had he thought about you over the last three months? How many times had he thought about your warmth? The warmth of your eyes, your smile, your skin? How many times had he thought about your voice and your laugh? How many days and nights had he spent craving your touch and your taste?

"Boromir?"

"Mmm hmm?" he voiced absently.

"If you're trying to be sneaky with that hand of yours, you're failing very badly," you said, more amused than anything else.

"Hmm?" Startled out of his thoughts, Boromir only now realized just where his hand had wandered off to. It had snaked up under your nightgown and now sat lightly on your bare thigh.

Well, that was unexpected, he thought. He certainly hadn't noticed or meant to do it, but why not take advantage of the situation and indulge in something else of yours that he had both missed and craved?

His fingers slipped between your thighs without warning, and he swallowed your gasp of surprise in an eager kiss. Lying on your back, you grabbed at his shoulders, his biceps, his forearms, as he braced himself up next to you.

He thumbed your clit, and when you canted your hips, he buried his index and middle fingers inside you, kissing your throat as you moaned for him.

Yes, he'd thought about this while he'd been away as well. This and so much more. But today, on this warm, quiet morning...

He curled his fingers inside your core, drank in the breathless sounds that managed to escape the woman he ached for more than anyone...

"Boromir!"

Right now, this was more than enough.