The Secret Library Of Middle Earth

Ao3 does not need a 1-5 star rating system, you just want to bring down authors writing for FREE

Ao3 does not need automatic censorship, it is an archive, therefore anything can be posted

Writing or reading about something illegal does not mean the author nor the reader condones it, if that were true, you could never read a story involving anything negative

The Lady of the Golden Wood

pinterest date tag game ! ✶ you are going on a blind date that pinterest set up for you, find out who will be the lucky one and how the evening will end 💌 on pinterest search the following topics and post the first pin that will show up in each category

fictional character date / night date gift outfit dessert love quote

Thank you sm @lelapine for the tag ♡

Here is mine! My Pinterest is very well-curated lol

Here are my images ~

The firelight danced across your face in a warm ethereal glow, your smile stretched wide as you listened to Gandalf's stories. The brightness of your person beaming much like the stars overhead.

"You're staring," Kili's voice finally caught Fili's attention, making the blond snap his attention back down to his dinner plate.

Kili's snickers were an annoyance and while he would've typically shoved his brother and told him some very colorful words in Khuzdul, instead he felt flushed and warm in the face as he stared at the dish. Had you even taken a curious glance around the fire, you would've seen him.

A frown took hold of Kili's face, this wasn't like his brother. "I didn't mean harm by it," Kili reassured, his hand going up to pat Fili on the back but missed as Fili stood.

"No harm given," Fili spoke simply as he walked to return his dish for washing, a troubled look on his face as he realized the feeling he had held inside for so long; yearning.

Tags beneath the cut

One, Two, Three, Four (You're here!)

You were standing, or were you spinning? No, surely standing. Your brow furrowed as you felt your body sway back and forth. Your eyes refused to open, as if held shut by an unseen force, while you struggled to maintain balance in unfamiliar surroundings. Forcing a deep breath through your nose, you exhaled slowly as the world around you began to still.

Finally, the pressure released. Opening your eyes, you squinted at the dim light that shocked your senses after what felt like an eternity in darkness. The room revealed itself slowly—a stone floor, stone walls, and a breeze billowing from down the hall, where countless ornate doors stood shut.

Your tongue felt heavy as you tried to speak, to call out. “Maybe now isn’t the best time,” you thought, surveying your surroundings. With a newfound sense of mobility, you realized you could move.

“Feels strange,” you murmured aloud, the sound breaking the silence and making you startle, eyes darting down the hall as if expecting someone to appear.

“Why am I... afraid?” The words slipped out before you could stop them, a realization dawning that you weren't entirely in control.

“Where am I?”

Suddenly, as if observing from above, you watched yourself move down the hall with purpose, seemingly knowing where to go. Panic gripped you, your heart pounding in your ears. “Wait, no! We don’t know if it’s safe!” You tried to call out, but your voice echoed unheard down the hall.

You couldn’t move to follow. Looking down, your form was no longer in the stone hallway but in a bedroom. A crackling fire caught your attention, warmth flooding through you and drawing a gasp from your lips.

“What—” It had been so long since you’d felt warmth. Your gaze swept the room, but a nagging feeling nagged at your mind. A dull ache throbbed in the back of your skull as your eyes landed on the tools in the corner. “Smithing... tools?” You attempted to move closer for a better look, only to find your feet rooted in place.

Suddenly, the bedroom door opened and the whispers of a discussion made it’s way to your ears. You drifted closer to the voices, the air crackling around you and the hairs on the back of your neck standing up. One voice felt familiar, warm and gruff tones resonating in the hallway, mingling with a measured tone of an elder. Your curiosity pulled you forward, almost as if drawn by an unseen force.

The door creaked open silently as you entered the room, finding yourself in a library bathed in the soft glow of ancient manuscripts and maps. Thorin and Balin were deeply engrossed in their discussion, their faces etched with determination.

“There must be a way around them, Balin,” Thorin's voice rumbled, echoing with a mix of frustration and determination.

Balin nodded thoughtfully, his eyes scanning the intricate details of the maps spread out before them. "Their surveillance is tight, but not impenetrable," he affirmed. The council was lazy, often putting up displays like this for show. He reached for a map that seemed newer than the rest.

He laid it out on the table, revealing what appeared to be a map with detailed surveillance plan dotted with symbols and annotations. Your eyes traced the lines and markings until Balin drew your eye to a corner of the map. No dots. No symbols. No annotations.

Thorin leaned in, studying the map intently. "This opening," he murmured, pointing to the spot with his finger. "Could this be our way through?"

Balin's eyes gleamed with a flicker of satisfaction as he nodded, tracing a route on the map with a deliberate finger.

"Yes, it's a blind spot in their patrols, Thorin" Balin explained, his voice steady but with a hint of something unsettling beneath the surface. "If we move swiftly and quietly, we can bypass their main defenses."

Thorin straightened, his jaw set with determination. "We leave just before the first peaks of the new dawn," he asserted, his voice resolute. "They'll be changing shifts."

Balin's gaze sharpened as he nodded slowly. "The perfect moment to strike," he murmured, his tone betraying a calculated edge that sent a chill down Thorin's spine.

Thorin glanced at Balin, a flicker of unease crossing his features before he masked it with a nod of agreement. “Aye, perfect indeed.”

Before you could attempt to speak again, it was like you were pulled underwater. A rushing sound pulsing against your eardrums as the view in front of you dulled and morphed into a blank void. You jolted awake with a cry, tears streaking down your face, your heart racing in panic. The remnants of the dream clung to your mind like cobwebs, but the details slipped through your grasp like water through fingers. Confusion washed over you as you struggled to make sense of the swirling emotions and now fragmented images.

"Thorin!" you called out, the name bursting from your lips with a desperate plea, though its significance remained elusive to your clouded memory. Sitting up in bed, you clutched the sheets tightly, your chest heaving with rapid breaths as fear gripped you.

The room around you felt unfamiliar, shadows dancing in the dim light of the moon filtering through the window. A fireplace crackled softly, casting flickering shadows that seemed to flicker like elusive memories just beyond reach.

Who were Thorin and Balin? Why did their names stir such raw emotion within you? How did you know them? Where did you come from before waking in the forest? These questions echoed in your mind, accompanied by a profound sense of loss and yearning that you couldn't quite place.

"No, who are they?" you murmured aloud, your voice trembling with uncertainty. The dream had felt too real, too vivid to dismiss as mere fantasy. It had left you shaken, vulnerable, and grappling with a sense of foreboding that chilled you to the core.

Your hands shook as you wiped away tears, trying to calm the storm of emotions raging within you. A clock chime broke through your thoughts as you looked out the window. “Noon, already?” Your brows furrowed as you swung your legs over the edge of the bed. The chill of the winter air sent shivers down your spine as you hurriedly put on your day-clothes.

Outside, the clergymen’s voices grew louder, their urgency rising as they implored the masses to heed their call. “We must repent to end the suffering! These winter clouds are no natural phenomena, they are messages from the gods! We must heed their demands!”

The words echoed through the narrow streets, mingling with the whispers of the wind that carried the biting cold of approaching winter. You hesitated as you went to grab your boots, visions spurring in your mind. 

“Thorin--” He shushed you with his lips, his embrace enveloping you in the scent of forges and the comforting aroma of pine and cedar that lingered around his hearth at night. His kiss was sweet, reminiscent of pomegranate seeds—a taste you savored, knowing it would soon be a memory.

As his lips danced with yours, a bittersweet realization dawned. This was your farewell with the god of fire and invention, the deity who had brought warmth and love into your life.

“Please don’t forget me,” you whimpered, your voice barely audible amidst the rush of emotions. A tear trickled down your cheek, tasting of salt as it slipped past your lips. Thorin pressed his forehead against yours, his touch a mix of solace and sorrow.

“I could never forget you,” he murmured against your skin, his breath warm against your ear. 

The memory unfolded like a fragile parchment, revealing moments of laughter and whispers shared in the glow of his hearth, moments of tenderness and passion that now flickered like embers in the recesses of your mind.

The urgent calls still echoed through the streets, but you brushed past them, your mind consumed by fragmented memories and unanswered questions. Thorin’s kiss lingered on your lips, a fleeting taste of something lost yet unforgettable. His and Balin’s presence in your dreams felt too vivid, too real to dismiss as mere figments of imagination, and now this...

As you walked, the cold air nipped at your cheeks, reminding you of the harsh reality outside the confines of your own mind. Each step forward felt like a hesitant plunge into the unknown, guided by an insatiable need for clarity. 

Your feet guided you, moreso than your own mind, as you left the main streets for a less traveled path. The snow crunched against your feet, making you all-too-aware of the silence and solitude now encompassing you as you made more distance between you and the city. 

Ahead, you spotted the stone structure, tall and imposing against the pristine white of the snow-covered landscape. The door, once grand with intricate carvings and gilded accents, now showed signs of neglect, its paint chipped and faded with time.

With a shaky breath, you reached out and pushed open the heavy door, wincing at the loud creak it emitted as it swung inward. The interior greeted you with an eerie stillness, the faint scent of ancient incense lingering in the air. Before you stood an empty altar, its surface bare save for a few scattered remnants of offerings long since gone.

A flicker of uncertainty washed over you as you stepped further into the dimly lit sanctuary. Shadows danced along the stone walls, casting ghostly shapes that seemed to whisper secrets of forgotten rituals and silent prayers.

You approached the altar cautiously, the weight of your questions pressing upon you like the chill of winter outside. What were you seeking here?

Tags beneath the cut!

One, Two, Three, Four (You're here!)

You were standing, or were you spinning? No, surely standing. Your brow furrowed as you felt your body sway back and forth. Your eyes refused to open, as if held shut by an unseen force, while you struggled to maintain balance in unfamiliar surroundings. Forcing a deep breath through your nose, you exhaled slowly as the world around you began to still.

Finally, the pressure released. Opening your eyes, you squinted at the dim light that shocked your senses after what felt like an eternity in darkness. The room revealed itself slowly—a stone floor, stone walls, and a breeze billowing from down the hall, where countless ornate doors stood shut.

Your tongue felt heavy as you tried to speak, to call out. “Maybe now isn’t the best time,” you thought, surveying your surroundings. With a newfound sense of mobility, you realized you could move.

“Feels strange,” you murmured aloud, the sound breaking the silence and making you startle, eyes darting down the hall as if expecting someone to appear.

“Why am I... afraid?” The words slipped out before you could stop them, a realization dawning that you weren't entirely in control.

“Where am I?”

Suddenly, as if observing from above, you watched yourself move down the hall with purpose, seemingly knowing where to go. Panic gripped you, your heart pounding in your ears. “Wait, no! We don’t know if it’s safe!” You tried to call out, but your voice echoed unheard down the hall.

You couldn’t move to follow. Looking down, your form was no longer in the stone hallway but in a bedroom. A crackling fire caught your attention, warmth flooding through you and drawing a gasp from your lips.

“What—” It had been so long since you’d felt warmth. Your gaze swept the room, but a nagging feeling nagged at your mind. A dull ache throbbed in the back of your skull as your eyes landed on the tools in the corner. “Smithing... tools?” You attempted to move closer for a better look, only to find your feet rooted in place.

Suddenly, the bedroom door opened and the whispers of a discussion made it’s way to your ears. You drifted closer to the voices, the air crackling around you and the hairs on the back of your neck standing up. One voice felt familiar, warm and gruff tones resonating in the hallway, mingling with a measured tone of an elder. Your curiosity pulled you forward, almost as if drawn by an unseen force.

The door creaked open silently as you entered the room, finding yourself in a library bathed in the soft glow of ancient manuscripts and maps. Thorin and Balin were deeply engrossed in their discussion, their faces etched with determination.

“There must be a way around them, Balin,” Thorin's voice rumbled, echoing with a mix of frustration and determination.

Balin nodded thoughtfully, his eyes scanning the intricate details of the maps spread out before them. "Their surveillance is tight, but not impenetrable," he affirmed. The council was lazy, often putting up displays like this for show. He reached for a map that seemed newer than the rest.

He laid it out on the table, revealing what appeared to be a map with detailed surveillance plan dotted with symbols and annotations. Your eyes traced the lines and markings until Balin drew your eye to a corner of the map. No dots. No symbols. No annotations.

Thorin leaned in, studying the map intently. "This opening," he murmured, pointing to the spot with his finger. "Could this be our way through?"

Balin's eyes gleamed with a flicker of satisfaction as he nodded, tracing a route on the map with a deliberate finger.

"Yes, it's a blind spot in their patrols, Thorin" Balin explained, his voice steady but with a hint of something unsettling beneath the surface. "If we move swiftly and quietly, we can bypass their main defenses."

Thorin straightened, his jaw set with determination. "We leave just before the first peaks of the new dawn," he asserted, his voice resolute. "They'll be changing shifts."

Balin's gaze sharpened as he nodded slowly. "The perfect moment to strike," he murmured, his tone betraying a calculated edge that sent a chill down Thorin's spine.

Thorin glanced at Balin, a flicker of unease crossing his features before he masked it with a nod of agreement. “Aye, perfect indeed.”

Before you could attempt to speak again, it was like you were pulled underwater. A rushing sound pulsing against your eardrums as the view in front of you dulled and morphed into a blank void. You jolted awake with a cry, tears streaking down your face, your heart racing in panic. The remnants of the dream clung to your mind like cobwebs, but the details slipped through your grasp like water through fingers. Confusion washed over you as you struggled to make sense of the swirling emotions and now fragmented images.

"Thorin!" you called out, the name bursting from your lips with a desperate plea, though its significance remained elusive to your clouded memory. Sitting up in bed, you clutched the sheets tightly, your chest heaving with rapid breaths as fear gripped you.

The room around you felt unfamiliar, shadows dancing in the dim light of the moon filtering through the window. A fireplace crackled softly, casting flickering shadows that seemed to flicker like elusive memories just beyond reach.

Who were Thorin and Balin? Why did their names stir such raw emotion within you? How did you know them? Where did you come from before waking in the forest? These questions echoed in your mind, accompanied by a profound sense of loss and yearning that you couldn't quite place.

"No, who are they?" you murmured aloud, your voice trembling with uncertainty. The dream had felt too real, too vivid to dismiss as mere fantasy. It had left you shaken, vulnerable, and grappling with a sense of foreboding that chilled you to the core.

Your hands shook as you wiped away tears, trying to calm the storm of emotions raging within you. A clock chime broke through your thoughts as you looked out the window. “Noon, already?” Your brows furrowed as you swung your legs over the edge of the bed. The chill of the winter air sent shivers down your spine as you hurriedly put on your day-clothes.

Outside, the clergymen’s voices grew louder, their urgency rising as they implored the masses to heed their call. “We must repent to end the suffering! These winter clouds are no natural phenomena, they are messages from the gods! We must heed their demands!”

The words echoed through the narrow streets, mingling with the whispers of the wind that carried the biting cold of approaching winter. You hesitated as you went to grab your boots, visions spurring in your mind. 

“Thorin--” He shushed you with his lips, his embrace enveloping you in the scent of forges and the comforting aroma of pine and cedar that lingered around his hearth at night. His kiss was sweet, reminiscent of pomegranate seeds—a taste you savored, knowing it would soon be a memory.

As his lips danced with yours, a bittersweet realization dawned. This was your farewell with the god of fire and invention, the deity who had brought warmth and love into your life.

“Please don’t forget me,” you whimpered, your voice barely audible amidst the rush of emotions. A tear trickled down your cheek, tasting of salt as it slipped past your lips. Thorin pressed his forehead against yours, his touch a mix of solace and sorrow.

“I could never forget you,” he murmured against your skin, his breath warm against your ear. 

The memory unfolded like a fragile parchment, revealing moments of laughter and whispers shared in the glow of his hearth, moments of tenderness and passion that now flickered like embers in the recesses of your mind.

The urgent calls still echoed through the streets, but you brushed past them, your mind consumed by fragmented memories and unanswered questions. Thorin’s kiss lingered on your lips, a fleeting taste of something lost yet unforgettable. His and Balin’s presence in your dreams felt too vivid, too real to dismiss as mere figments of imagination, and now this...

As you walked, the cold air nipped at your cheeks, reminding you of the harsh reality outside the confines of your own mind. Each step forward felt like a hesitant plunge into the unknown, guided by an insatiable need for clarity. 

Your feet guided you, moreso than your own mind, as you left the main streets for a less traveled path. The snow crunched against your feet, making you all-too-aware of the silence and solitude now encompassing you as you made more distance between you and the city. 

Ahead, you spotted the stone structure, tall and imposing against the pristine white of the snow-covered landscape. The door, once grand with intricate carvings and gilded accents, now showed signs of neglect, its paint chipped and faded with time.

With a shaky breath, you reached out and pushed open the heavy door, wincing at the loud creak it emitted as it swung inward. The interior greeted you with an eerie stillness, the faint scent of ancient incense lingering in the air. Before you stood an empty altar, its surface bare save for a few scattered remnants of offerings long since gone.

A flicker of uncertainty washed over you as you stepped further into the dimly lit sanctuary. Shadows danced along the stone walls, casting ghostly shapes that seemed to whisper secrets of forgotten rituals and silent prayers.

You approached the altar cautiously, the weight of your questions pressing upon you like the chill of winter outside. What were you seeking here?

Tags beneath the cut!

Tonight, we remember one who lent his enormous talent to telling the story we have all come to love. Hail, the victorious dead!

May the Simbelmynë cover his tomb as it did the tomb of the one he so accurately portrayed.

Two things! First of all, in my quest to empty out my inbox of requests my brain seems to have decided to pick requests at random to have spurts of inspiration for, rather than having inspiration for the oldest ones first, so I’m sorry to those of you who have already been waiting ridiculously long amounts of time.

Secondly, ANON PLEASE TAKE RESPONSIBILITY FOR HOW EMO YOU HAVE MADE ME, this is the angstiest thing I have ever written. And I’m proud of it, but I hate it. So here it is. I hope you enjoy it.

Leaving Legolas

word count: 643 content warning: severe angst, character death