What About Second Breakfast ?

“So, let me understand this properly,” he began, “you wish for me to hunt you with the same instincts I use for animals and when I capture you, have my way right here in the middle of the forest?”

“Yes,” you confirmed confidently with an eager nod of your head.

Twisting his mouth and giving small bites to his gum, he still found the idea sceptical and required lots of convincing. With his brows pinched, he tightened his arms across his chest, unconsciously flexing his muscles which caught your attention. Images of being pinned against a tree or to the floor by those arms flashed across your mind. “But the cabin’s right there; not too far away where we can have the same levels of fun!” he cried out.

“It won’t be the same Beleg,” you whined. “Please.”

To give into your wish was easy, and Beleg tried his damn hardest to not falter, however, it was impossible when you pouted and flashed those pleading eyes at him. His greatest weakness. He exclaimed exasperatedly and rolled his head loosely with a childish pout. “You genuinely want this?”

Standing opposite him at a greater distance for when the chase was on, you nodded eagerly and tugged at the loose dress you wore for easier disposal once he caught you. Exhaling at the exhilarating thoughts of engaging in such animalistic acts turned you on even more and encouraged you to rub your thighs to ease the growing ache. As you did so, your arousal stained the inner of your thighs but also caught the attention of Beleg. His eyes darted immediately to where you shifted on your feet, squeezing and rubbing your thighs together. For a moment, he could have sworn he picked up a trace of your arousal lingering in the air.

With his tongue in cheek, attempting to not pounce on you this very instant, he forced his eyes to wander elsewhere while his breathing became erratic, and his leggings tightened. You were tempting him to go against the discomfort he held when it came to intimacy in the open in the forest. Had you suggested returning to your shared cabin which dwelt reasonably nearby, he would have pounced immediately without protest, but he was considering a change of heart at his eeriness.

Sighing and not believing he was about to follow along—there was enthusiasm in the depths of his stomach and being rough with you—he closed his eyes and spun around. “I’m giving you a head start of three minutes, then I’ll count to twenty before the hunt begins. I’d make good use of every inch of the forest should you not wish for this to be over soon,” he explained with cockiness in his voice, clearly aware of the lack of challenge this was about to be.

You were shocked by the abruptness of his command when he turned around and began barking instructions. There wasn’t a moment for any questions to be asked as his voice rang out again. “Two minutes.”

Realising the seriousness of his voice and the sudden change in the atmosphere from friendly to hungry, your eyes widened before spinning on your heels and taking off. The wind against your skin felt cold as you dashed through the forest, careful to avoid tripping over mossy vines and rocks; an accident was the last thing you needed to end your chase. Coming to a clearing, one you were familiar with, you were confused for a moment on which direction to head knowing that two minutes had already passed, and he was counting down.

Taking a left and heading along the border of Doriath, you came to a stream, the perfect location to lose your scent and footsteps, whichever he chose to track. Stepping into the stream and wading through the water, you moved upstream, sometimes stepping on the rocks to avoid the splashing sound of the water alerting him should be he nearby. When you came to the pool where the stream began, you hopped off onto the patch of grass and took off again.

Your heart was pounding from racing through the forest, unsure of whether he was already behind you or genuinely unable to track you. However, knowing Beleg, he was probably already on your tail and giving you the sense of satisfaction that you were able to outrun him. It wasn’t long before you felt your legs growing tired from all the consistent running without a break and stopped beside a hedge of bush. Checking for any briars or other creepy crawlers, you slithered into the hedge, made yourself comfortable on the dirt ground and waited.

Time passed slowly, dragging on for eternity before some action took place, though it wasn’t what you wished for. A few deer passed through the area, mulching on berries and squirrels carrying their nuts whilst chasing each other. You only hoped that hours wouldn’t pass before you were caught.

Sitting for a few more minutes, you sensed another presence, one that wasn’t a deer or any other animal. Camouflaged in his green and brown hunting attire, Beleg past a few feet from where you hid in the shrub of bushes. You observed the way his ears and nose twitched, attempting to pick up any signs of your presence in the area. When he found no signs, he continued ahead and out of sight.

A grin immediately spread across your face at the recognition that he hadn’t spotted not sensed you in the bushes nearby. Perhaps it was the water which washed your pheromones away and the invitation of the deer in the area that confused his ability to locate your fragrance. Nevertheless, it gave you the relief to know that he was nearby and the advantage necessary to prolong the hunt in hopes of his appetite growing ravenous.

Giving yourself a minute or two after he disappeared from sight, you then crawled out of the bushes with little to no sounds and took a stance to dust off the dirt. Craning your neck from where you stood in an attempt to spot him, you grinned once there was no sight or feel of him before taking a step in the direction you both came from.

“Just where do you think you’re running off to, little deer?” His voice suddenly manifested from behind, the same way his hands did to snake around your waist and tug you against his chest. His warm breath tickled the nape of your neck before crawling down your spine.

Panic seeped into your veins the moment you realised you were officially caught with nowhere to run. There was no possibility of fighting your way out of his grip now that you were fastened to his chest. The rapid rise and fall of your chest told you for the erratic beating of your heart drumming away. “H–How did you find me?” you managed to squeeze out.

“Find you?” he audaciously muttered as a hand came up to twirl a lock of your hair between his thumb and forefinger. He swayed you both from side to side, keeping you secured to his body without an ounce of freedom—deer were known for viciously kicking and fighting when caught, refusing to hand submission over to their captor. “I never found you, little one. I knew exactly where you were. But I must admit, you gave me the slip at the stream, smart.”

His voice had changed in a fraction of a second, dropping an octave and stripping you bare of your clothes. A river of arousal flowed from between your legs and joined the stains from earlier. Beleg sensed it; the shift of excitement which turned into lust. He must admit, the entire game was thrilling now that he was in the headspace and understood the anticipation it left behind with every action. Wanting to make the most of this moment, he dropped the lock of hair and ignored the tenseness at the gesture to slip his hand under your dress. The minute his fingers came in contact with your most intimate region, he grinned into your skin.

“Naughty, naughty, naughty,” he chastised. “A deer running around the forest without protection. Don’t you know what happens to deer when they aren’t protected?”

You shook your head, feeling your pulse beating in the depths of your throat and causing your words to remain stuck. With ease, his fingers inched higher until he cupped your cunt and parted it with his fingers for his middle to slip past your fold and sink into your heat. You trembled in his hold at the contrast of his cool finger compared to the heat you radiated.

Pushing his head closer to meet the tip of your ear, he whispered against it, knowing how sensitive you were. “They get devoured.”

With fervour, his finger dug deeper and curled against your sweet spot immediately to get you dripping all over his wrist. The lewd sounds of his finger pumping in and out echoed in the surroundings you two were still standing in. The sounds of the birds chirping, and frogs croaking accompanied the melody of your cunt sounding wet the faster he pumped his fingers. It wasn’t long before his wrist was drenched in your arousal as small squirts of your arousal spilt out.

Bowing into his body as his ministrations were incessant, your lips were parted and releasing strings of moans and whimpers of his name the more he pressed against your sweet spot. The relentlessness he displayed showed how easy was for him to fall into the headspace and find joy in the act. Beleg’s dominance was rare since there was never any need for him to display such power. There was a mutual understanding between you both to remain neutral when it came to displaying your power during intimate acts, so it was rare he was asked to show his dormant side. When he did, you could tell he enjoyed every second.

“Ngh, Beleg,” you whined as his finger continued to build its pace and lead to more fluids squirting out and staining your dress.

All the while, he held you firmly against his chest and continued to rock and grind his erection into your back, edging himself until he couldn’t take it any longer. For now, you were his main focus and dish, and you required all his attention in order to meet your expectations.

Panting louder as the pressure in your abdomen increased, you trembled uncontrollably, trashing and fighting against the steel grip. His touch always left you confused between wanting and not wanting it.

“Are you close, little deer? I can feel you,” he taunted. “Are you going to let me taste you?”

Those words did things to your insides, you were no longer able to withhold the pressure that rose to an insurmountable volume before cumming on his hand buried under your dress. Violent shivers consumed your body at his refusal to let up and push through your orgasm with continual thrusting of his finger targeting your bundle of nerves. It only caused for more juices to squirt everywhere while your body slowly went limp in his arms—the proper procedure for tiring out his catch.

Though he was merciful to all living creatures, he retracted his finger from your cunt and gave a few pats to your clit, laughing under his breath as you jolted. Still keeping you pressed against him, he removed his hand from under your dress and reached for the hem of your dress to tug it off your body. With the lethargy displayed by you before the game progressed, he struggled to remove your garment without producing any tears. Your legs were jelly and barely able to move to provide any assistance as he disrobed you, nonetheless, he managed to succeed in bringing you to nudity.

Dress discarded on the forest floor and you leaning against the tree trunk, Beleg’s hand held you up by your hips as he ascended to his knees. “Part your legs for me, love. A hunter must have a taste of his catch,” he elaborated while rubbing soothing circles into your hipbones. He looked up at you with pleading emerald eyes until your legs lethargically parted and granted him access to your heat.

Those eyes glittered and widened at the sight of your cunt and a sinister grin spread across his face. Lifting his forefinger to your puffy folds, he pressed it against your clit and gave a harsh flick to watch as you jolt again. The entire scene unfolding before his eyes was splendid.

“You’re so fragile, I could eat you up right now,” (he leaned in closer to plant a kiss on your thigh and smile as you shivered), “but I must savour my catch first—a good one I must admit.”

Wearly smiling down at him, your nails clung to the tree bark as best as you could, knowing he was about to display his fervour. Your chest was erratically heaving up and down with your heart beating in your throat and core. All butterflies were gathered in your lower abdomen at the sensation of his hungry eyes feasting upon your swollen cunt. In addition to his staring, the sight of him licking his lips and inching closer with soundless muttering increased the ache.

“Beleg, please don’t tease me,” you implored, eyes tearing up at the teasing he bequeathed with innocent eyes. His finger flicked at your clit and drew circles with your bundle of nerves as though he had all the time in the world.

Snickering at your protests, he arched a brow and bit the inside of your thigh, moving higher with each nibble he delivered. “Don’t you know teasing a catch is the best way to prepare it before eating.” Continuing his biting, his tongue would sometimes slip out to soothe the area whenever he bit down too hard before continuing his ministrations until he reached at the junction where your thigh ended, and the scent of your arousal was most pronounced. It tickled his senses and drove him wild with want and lust, partially forgetting that he needed to build the tension until you broke.

Diving between your legs, his head nestled easily with the comfort of knowing that his hunger was about to be sedated. His tongue lapped at your cunt like a dog in heat, drinking everything you spilt into his mouth as your arousal flowed like a river. You could say he was thirsty and could only be quenched by the sacred taste of your heavenly waters.

On his knees and panting with each stroke of his tongue, both your hands gripped his hair like titanium and kept him situated where he should be. His hands were also busy gripping your hips leaving behind his fingerprints for evidence that you were caught and devoured by a vicious hunter on the loose. Your cries were a catalyst for him to pursue and never back down no matter what came his way; it didn’t matter if his neck began hurting from the awkward position he was craning to reach your heat. All that mattered was him rewarding your fantasy and his deprivation.

With an antagonistic push, he parted your legs much further to allow his tongue to slip lower and dip past your entrance. Curling and thrusting to collect any extra arousal you had hiding deep within. He made perfect use of the new gateway to switch back and forth between flicking and drawing lazy circles around your clit and thrusting his said tongue and enjoying the clamping effect around his tongue. In between, he would slip in a deep rumble, allowing the vibrations to travel up his tongue and simulate your clit as he slurped on it like a pacifier.

In response, your fingers would curl deeper into his hair and tug out of the confusion of whether you wanted him to continue or stop as the pressure returned in the pit of your stomach. Burning and building with every flick of his tongue; it most certainly did not help when his emerald eyes flashed upwards to meet your hazed expression. Why must he appear so innocent, masking the snarky demon he buried underneath? You sometimes found it implausible to acknowledge he was the same individual he changed into something unfathomable. Your hunter became an actual hunter.

But he laughed. He laughed and chuckled at the confusion dwelling in your eyes the longer you looked on as he worked. His saliva and your arousal mixed as he continued to slurp at your cunt, feeling the vibrations of your body increasing as he added more fervour to his actions. He couldn’t wait for you to release all over his tongue like you always did. Henceforth, he pushed on, listening to your pleas to ‘not stop’ and to ‘keep going’ as your body trembled uncontrollably. He couldn’t believe he was genuinely going back on his words of being intimate in the open for all creatures to bear witness. God, he hoped no one was nearby or asked the creature about the activity within the forest.

“Beleg, oh God please!” you shrieked as you pushed his face closer to be ultimately buried and stained with your arousal—not that he minded at all.

His hand slipped off your hips to run up and down your thighs in a soothing manner, coaxing your orgasm to come faster. Furthermore, he wanted to remove you off the tree trunk, only aware that your back would be slightly bruised from all the impact your body made. Something he would have to nurse and also hear complaints about.

Because of the humour, he found in the thought, his soft chuckling goaded the remaining strength you fought to keep to bring your orgasm crashing upon his face and into his mouth. Taking a moment to savour everything that ran out, he rolled his tongue from your slit all the way to your bundle of nerves before dragging it back down and dipping it inside. He fought off your hands which consistently attempted to push him away due to your sensitivity being high, however, he persisted nonetheless and ignored your protest. When he was ready to finish, he would.

Slapping your hands away from his hair after it was left unkept—silvery strands unbound from his neatened ponytail and single braid—he gathered them in his left hand, while his right slipped between your legs to join his tongue. Balancing despite the awkwardness, he wasted no time sliding his middle and fourth finger in and abusing your sweet spot. He took the moment to pull away for the first time and find reprieve, chest heaving as he took in large gulps of air before leaning in to kiss his way up your thighs.

“Tired already?” he snickered as he kissed your belly button and observed as you sucked it in. “I’ve barely started you know.”

Expecting a verbal reply because you had a smart tongue, he was surprised when no words escaped, and only mouthless mutters were elicited. Your body bowed off the tree trunk forcing him to rise from his position and act as an anchor to prevent you from doubling over. Face pressing into his stomach while you remained restrained and forced to endure another orgasm, your inaudible cries were a delight in Beleg’s eyes. To know that was the level of effect he had over your fragile body with such simple actions only enticed him to act with more vigour and increase the speed of his fingers.

“Hmph!” Muffled by his tunic, your lips parted to drool since sounds refused to fall from them. No matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t escape the torment he played upon you; consider it your own torture you devised for yourself without being aware of the severity.

Feeling the curls and thrusts of his fingers fitting themselves along your walls and enjoying the spongy texture, you clenched. With want and desire to have him remould your insides the way he normally would and leave a lasting effect, you clamped down tighter to force his presence to dwell longer. Unfortunately, Beleg had the strength to match the warmth and temptation you seduced, laughing at the feeble tries.

He rocked with you as you faced another orgasm, unable to do anything since your legs were weakened at this point. It was he who kept you standing, otherwise you’d collapse and from the rate he was going, you weren’t sure if he would be able to continue supporting you. Your entire body was growing numb and jelly–like.

“You’re going to cum for me again? A third time in ten minutes,” he mocked with a burst of adolescent laughter ricocheting throughout the surroundings. “It seems I made the right catch—I’m going to enjoy every inch of you, little deer.”

There wasn’t much you could do as a third orgasm rocked your body; it was less intense but due to your sensitivity, it made your senses heightened and everything concentrated. Your legs were the first part of you to give away and forced Beleg to slide his fingers out to snatch you into his embrace. He propped you against him, shouldering your non–existent weight with gentle pats to your back as you cried in his arms. Shuffling tresses of your hair out your sweaty face, he wiped whatever beads of sweat he could, out of your eyes.

From his point of view, you were out of orbit with a glassy look in your eyes and puffy lips from how hard you were chewing on them. All the whimpering and crying that escaped your throat left it sore like sandpaper scraping against the insides. This was all his doing and Beleg felt his pride surging at the recognition of his abilities; there was never a day when you were intimate where he wasn’t amazed at the limits he was able to push you to. Though, this wasn’t anywhere near the groundbreaking heights you’ve been before.

Sinking to his knees, he took you to the ground and positioned you on your hands and knees, not before placing a kiss on your head to account for the roughness he was about to deliver. At the pivotal moment he had finally arrived at, all forms of gentleness were about to vacate his actions now that you were ready to be served on his plate as the main course; his time for desert was over. This was the moment when he indulged in the main course of his hunt and enjoyed the overall thrill of the game.

Despite his movements orchestrated being gentle, you felt wobbly and weak as he positioned you in the required situation for taking. Being placed on your knees was a familiar setup, having been there numerous times and only when he was in that mood. You knew what to expect, you were the benefactor of the entire scenario, so this was your reward. And so, your hands and face—after he pushed your dress under you—collided with the rough forest floor, your butt situated in the air as he knelt behind, timelessly removing his leggings with eagerness in his eyes.

They feasted on the sight of your puffy lips facing and inviting him for more, to which he politely answered by running the tip of his cock through your folds. One hand gripping the base of his erection while the other reached out to press into the base of your spine, pushing you into a more debauching position. The burn at the base of your spine the deeper he pressed, arching your back lower only ended until your legs complied and spread along to meet his requirements. With your face pressed against your dress to save it from being bruised, yet your knees weren’t spared one bit, the last sound you coherently heard was a hiss before the feeling of his robust cock moulding your insides.

The entire idea of rearranging one’s insides was perfectly executed by Beleg after understanding the headspace he ought to be in to completely enjoy the bliss of the game. Grunting and groaning with every thrust, his head was tossed back, and his hair fell over his shoulder as his melody ricocheted throughout the forest. Both hands were digging into the base of your spine, pressing his weight upon your smaller figure to prevent any movements other than his own as he drilled into you. You could say you were in a tumultuous battle, losing but also winning with the ultimate you were experiencing currently.

There was no time for you to grab onto anything but the remaining sanity from the diabolical rolls of his hips with each thrust, sending himself deeper. Caught between feeling his tip rubbing your sweet spot and bruising your cervix, tears sprung from your tears at the intensity of the heightened moment. Everything felt as though it was on fire—a cooling, quenching flame that melted everything perfectly. His touch on your waist, his thighs knocking against yours and the motion of his member fitting itself where it belonged. With every thrust, your body jolted and shivered, and in return, a deep, hearty chuckle was emitted.

Taking the moment to study your expressions, Beleg dropped his head and raked his eyes over your glossy and distant pair, cross–eyed and gazing off into the forest with trickles of salty water running. Your lips were swollen from all the gnawing and parted as you released desperate pants and moans. The sight of you all fucked out before the real hunt had begun was the best part about the entire scenario; he would never forget how much you begged, only to be knocked out of reality.

“Look at you—such a pretty deer,” he complimented and shifted his right hand higher to brush your hair out your face. “Moan for me some more, meleth.”

The command flowed to your already wired brains to obey his every order; your lips released strings of moans. His name fell elegantly from your lips when the actions which condoned the consequences were quite the opposite. The power he held over you which resonated in the viciousness of his thrusts were inconsequential to any you would ever experience. Your back curled into each of his wicked rolls, your ass pressed into his hips to meet his thrusts instead of running away and your fingers dug holes into the ground, each a testament to the unrestraint dominance he displayed.

At some point, his right leg was hiked for stability, allowing his weight to be easily displaced to sink you further into the floor. What was previously debauching was now impossible at the newest position he pushed you into for the sake of reaching deeper and keeping the visceral trait of a hunter enjoying his prey. There was no point in running away, you couldn’t twitch an inch out of his grasp much less moan coherent phrases. You were sure at some point a bark, howl or yelp slipped out from how pathetic you were sounding. Nonetheless, to Beleg, it was all he wanted to hear as he lost himself in the heat of your cunt.

The sponginess that cocooned his cock like a weighted blanket and moulded to the shape of his robustness and girth felt divine. For every thrust, he was met with acceptance through the form of a gentle or suffocating squeeze—for when he hit the right spot. There was nothing that could top the comfort and heat you provided, additionally, with the thrill of being out in the open for anyone to witness the obscenities, he was blessed with your arousal flowing all over his member. The sheen which glistened under the minimal light through the peeks of the canopy, radiated all over his cock. Not too far in the distance, there was the lavish sound of his balls slapping against your puff cunt. Kissing your lips with each meet and carefully stimulating your bundle of nerves.

Taking the hand that brushed your hair away, he dragged it to meet your nape and placed you under a headlock. Now, with your face planted into your dress, cheeks squeezing against the material as it dragged across the forest floor, Beleg was able to force the final weight of himself on top of you, sinking the rest of your body into the ground. Grunting like a wild animal in heat in the depths of your ear, he raged on. Hips ferociously slapping against your ass and leaving the area stinging, you felt the flexing of his muscles with each thrust. His thighs clenching and stiffing as he repositioned for a better angle, you felt it all with the proximity he achieved.

Lying atop and sandwiching you into the floor, he took the moment to reach for your hands, still wanting to bring a bit of romanticism to the rough act and bringing them to rest beside your head. He took the chance to pepper your upper back in kisses, soothing the areas that were slightly bruised from the tree bark. As he did so, he whispered little compliments and praises into your skin, encouraging you to meet his halfway and bathe in pleasure.

“Such a good cunt, and all mine. Hmm, gonna let me cum in it and fill it up? Mark you as mine, meleth?” he mumbled into your ear, nibbling on the tip. Feel drunk in the moment as you grew wetter and sloppier, he stopped his thrusting and gyrated his hips to allow his tip to rub continuously against your sweet spot. Your fingers curled into his, clawing at the dirt and your head dropped to release a silent scream. Toes curling and stomach fluttering, you could barely keep up with all his frantic fiasco.

“Do you feel that? Your sweet little cunt knows it needs to be tamed—see how well she takes me,” he continued while his tip grazed and applied a substantial volume of weight within your walls. “She wants me to put her down and claim her as mine.”

His words did something to both you and him. For you, it made your insides tingle and pulsate like a little heartbeat whispering ‘I love you’, while for him, it brought his orgasm a step closer than he expected. Just the mere thought of releasing all his seed and marking you as his absolute prize was even a greater turn–on—something he came to realise and would incorporate often.

Feeling the closure of his race coming abruptly, he pushed his face into your hair and laughed, “Ha, gonna milk my cock and let me make you mine!”

“Beleg, p–please…” you whimpered, panting at the swelling of his cock, growing heavier as time seemed to traverse through the ages. All the gyrating was stimulating and torturing the more he applied pressure, and his growing weight did nothing to ease the anticipation of being flooded with his seed.

In due time, he could no longer restrain the overwhelming surge of desire to possess you, and he soon released himself into your womb. His warm cum flooded your intimate passage, continuously pulsating as his member twitched uncontrollably. Your inner walls responded by clenching around him, aiding in milking every last drop he had to give. There was no escape for him from the tight embrace you had on his member, compelling him to linger a while longer until you deemed it time for him to withdraw.

As you lay there on the forest floor, both of your bodies quivered. His laboured breaths, escaping in raspy pants, sent warm puffs of air down your neck, causing goosebumps to rise. Tranquillity settled in, replacing the earlier sounds of nightingales and mockingbirds singing in the distance, the frogs croaking, and other creatures scurrying across the forest floor. It appeared that your activities had neither alarmed nor traumatized the wildlife.

However, the position you were in had become uncomfortable, and you needed to clean up. “Beleg,” you rasped, capturing his attention and interrupting his brief moment of nuzzling into your hair. “I’d like to move, please.”

Amused by your request, he couldn’t help but tease. “Can you?” he chuckled, well aware of how your body had likely been pushed to its limits during those intense moments. Every twist and turn had been well worth the prospect of experiencing it all over again.

Receiving an annoyed glare from you, he apologetically grimaced and gently disengaged from your embrace, making sure to tidy himself up and brush away any errant leaves. He then reached out to pick you up, ensuring your comfort. “Come on, let’s get you cleaned up.” Figuring that it was sensible to relocate your position, not deeming it sanitary enough to continue anything further, he gingerly scooped you and your dress up and marched back to the pool.

Masterlist

Continuing to push through the thick undergrowth and stumbling over the slimy green moss, the further it seemed that you walked, the forest remained the same. The trees, rocks, canopy, croaking of the frogs, buzzing of the insects, the cawing of the birds, everything was similar to the last five minutes ago. Perhaps the time had frozen and ceased to move onwards, pushing you to move in so infinite loop…or a circle. Surely a circle made more sense. You should have marked the trees like your father and brother usually did when hunting. At this point, panic slowly crept in, and your footsteps hurried. Your breathing grew frantic, whining and crying as you moved closer to the border unbeknownst to yourself.

It didn’t matter how many times you tripped over your feet or the thickets, you continued to move forward in hopes of arriving home. Anything could be out there. Some wild beast…or the evil of Morgoth. Just the thought of him made your blood curdle. A look over your shoulder to your left and then right, you saw nothing but more shrouded figures of black and green. Was your mind playing tricks on you, or was it just the forest?

The more you trekked, the darker and darker it grew. The light was no longer shining through the canopy and the sun had finally set. Casting an eye to the sky, you couldn’t make out if it were clouds or just the open sky hanging menacingly overhead. At the same time, the unnatural wind blew aggressively throughout the forest, howling and cackling bringing a natural phenomenon. Rain.

The drops were light at first, scattered showers as the canopy did most of the catching, but it wasn’t for long. There came a moment when the canopy ceased to perform its job and allowed for the heavier downpour to burst through the roofs and drench you to the bone. Your clothes now clung to your skin, your hair matted to your face and your skin cold. Thunder and lightning danced across the sky, illuminating and laughing as it went, scaring every pour creature along the way. What little sight you had then was lost to the rain.

But you walked and stumbled, tripped and fell, skid and skated until your legs grew tired and heaved their final breath before plummeting to the muddy ground. You lay curled up against a remnant, shielded by an overgrowth of vines and moss, and cried.

The wet droplets cascaded down your cheeks, rolling into every crevice they could find, soaking you to the bone. The frigid temperatures were becoming more dangerous the longer you were left in the open. Your teeth clattered and knocked against one another—you were sure your tongue was already bitten—releasing an eerie tune.

The tune though, didn’t sound eerie for long. In the distance, you could hear sounds that were unfamiliar with the pattern of rainfall. It was distant, slowly approaching and then near before the sounds had stopped. Your consciousness cried out to move your tongue to respond to the calls, but your eyes had grown weary from being awake for long tedious hours—your body followed soon after.

Forever wasn’t forever when you awoke to the feeling of being carried, airborne. The light sensation of the rain falling against your cheek was still there, but not enough to distract the floating feeling. Had you transcended? There was something soft holding your body around your shoulders and legs, too soft but muscular. How could such a combination exist among the race of men? There was the forceful attempt at opening your eyes to view the saviour or person who carried your body like a bag of feathers. This person moved without their feet touching the ground, you presumed. You felt no friction in their motion; they were gliding through the air carrying your body around.

The sound returned. The same sounds during the rainfall, but up close, it resonated…sweeter. There was a bird tweeting in your ear, calling out and demanding you were cared for. Since when birds sounded this beautiful?

The voice was lulling you into a deeper trance, pushing you to return to sleep and rest. Its hands were cradling your body like you were a baby and nestling you on warm blankets, swaddling and encompassing.

“Are you going to report this to the King?”

“…There’s no need to. We’ll send them on their way after requesting their purpose for wandering near the borders.”

“…Sir—”

“—It’s alright Galion. I have this.”

Lying awake in a bed of cotton and wool, you awoke to the sound of voices conversing about your disposal or arrest. From what you gathered; you were trespassing while wandering through the forest. Retaining your position, you craned your ear to listen for the echoes of any more words about your whereabouts and situation, unfortunately finding none. There was no sound to trace other than silence in the room and the soft howling of the wind outside. The rain was still raging.

It felt like minutes you were lying there, listening for some resonance to whip past your ear and provide relief other than the wooden windows knocking and wind. You wanted to take in the view of the area you were inhabiting but nerves and consciousness ticked at your brain to reject the idea. Something was off, and it urged your body to uncontrollably twitch and itch in the wooden cot. A toss of your left leg to ease the pressure in your lower back, a scratch to your chest and an overly, loud and unnecessary sigh, was enough to call it quits.

“How long are you going to pretend to be asleep?” You could hear the humour in his voice and see the smirk on his face. Even the crossing of his arms and the crossed leg as he leaned against the tree trunk. It was a common stance most would assume when persecuting another.

Shutting your eyes tightly and taking a loud gulp, you attempted to force your body back to sleep, though, the approaching footsteps weren’t assisting. He hovered, but you couldn’t describe the look on his face, not this time. He could be angry, annoyed, confused, curious or concerned. So many to choose from. His voice displayed authority; thus, annoyance was the way to go.

“How long are you going to ignore me…wanderer?” Ah, there it was, annoyance. Just a small fraction of it laced in his tone. There you pictured it, brows furrowed, lips pursed, eyes narrowed, cheeks huffed, and jaw clenched. All that was missing was the rest of his physical structure, though, at this point, wasn’t necessary.

Tightening your eyes and squeezing your lips together, you felt a jab to your left shoulder followed by a gentle shake. “Please don’t ignore me, I’m only doing my duty,” he pleaded. His voice mellowed and softened like the bird you heard earlier. It was him! Your body jolted and tingled once again.

Honey flooded your body. The gooey and sticky sensation was welcoming to the sweetness that followed. Your heart thrummed and beat a little faster than usual—you are a like bee buzzing for honey, flapping a hundred times in a few seconds. His hand had not once left your shoulder, spreading a cooling and desirous fire. It started from your shoulder, through your chest and settled in the pit of your belly, warm and inviting. You had a dam that released millions of butterflies in your stomach, mixing perfectly with the fire. When you suspected your feeling to be melted, or disintegrated, your butterflies danced with the liquid fire.

Peeking through your lashes, his appearance at first was fuzzy, blurred a sightly. You could make out how fit his silhouette was—mostly from his gab. The final chance you took to peel back the veiled curtains, your breath was stuck in your throat. If your brain at that moment told you to run because of danger, you would forsake all composure and common sense to remain locked in the beauty of holding eye contact with the stranger above you. Beautiful. That was the final physical description you were missing to fit his appearance.

Silver hair tied into a neatly combed ponytail and a single braid at the side, pulled back to meet the rest. A simple hairdo which amplified his beauty to greater heights.

Staring was considered offensive, but if it were a crime, you would have gladly been arrested all over again if it meant gazing at the miraculous creature before you. Growing up in the far easter villages meant being away from the elves and only hearing stories from the counsel and heads. Their beauty was unparallel and universally unmatched. The tales were true, but they never spoke of the racing heart or sweaty palms or uncontrollable flustered state.

Gawking at the male above you, his lips twitched at the corners before kneeling at bed level to come face-to-face. You noticed that his hand had not once moved from your shoulder; the grip was loose, a timid touch. His face, however, told you he was aware of your state, he knew what you were thinking. That’s what the tales spoke of; the elves read minds, so he knew yours instantly.

“…” Opening your mouth to explain yourself, your words failed.

“It is…alright. I understand,” he whispered. “I am Beleg, a Marchwarden of Doriath, and you?” Sitting on the floor, Beleg observed your starstruck expression, amused and touched. You were experiencing what he felt in the manner mortals expressed themselves, vividly.

Beleg. A pretty hand for a handsome elf, but he shouldn’t be a warrior. His face would be destroyed and gone would be his ageless beauty.

Shifting to sit upright, the motion caused his hand to slide off your shoulder and you to cringe at the loss of touch. Staring at his limp hand, you reached out to brush your fingers against it before cautiously enveloping it entirely—despite the size differences between mortal and elf. Dragging your eyes to meet his mirth-filled ones, staring at your intertwined hands, you called out to him, “You are too beautiful to be a warrior, your beauty will be ruined.” Your free hand rose to cup his cheek.

Melting at the touch, he too, lifted his other hand to rest against yours and held it to his face. Eyes glowing with mirth, filled with thousands of stars twinkling in the background, high above the canopy and into the unknown. His eyes sparkled and twinkled, even winked an arrow of love through your heart to solidify what will become his undying passion.

“I believe it I who should worry about your beauty being ruined when you are wandering the forest alone at night during a storm. Why?”

“I got lost…lost searching for something.”

“I hope it was me because I found you just as you found me,” he reassured in a honeyed tone. It was abnormal for an interaction like this to occur between mortals, but this was different. He security and comfort, peace and home. Love.

“Perhaps it was you calling to me like a siren calls a sailor, singing to me like the stars do every night. Begging me to find you,” you breathed with a hint of a smirk.

Reaching over to kiss your hand, he chuckled into your skin, “I am an excellent singer, so maybe it was me indeed… But now that you are here, what next?”

“Well, I cannot stay, I must return home; my family will be worried.”

Darting his head to the window to peek through the slight opening, a bolt of lightning scattered across the sky soundlessly. While his face displayed a sullen expression, his heart soared at the awareness of you staying with him longer. “The storm is still raging on; you must wait before leaving.”

“Then after the storm passes and the forest clears up, I will return home.”

“Then allow me to escort you home safely, I would very much love to see you again. I fear that I am not ready for this moment to be over so quickly—we’ve only just met!” he begged, body leaning closer with pleading eyes.

His pouting face was the last expression you assumed he could make. It refused to match his physique. The body of a warrior and the face of a puppy told you a lot about much of a sweet person he was capable of being. To reject him would be another crime, one you refused to pay for.

“You wish to see me after I return?” you asked stunted.

He hummed and sighed, “I absolutely do! I do not wish for this to be a one-time meeting between us. Even if I must escape my guard duties to meet again, I would.”

“We’ve only just met and you’re already professing your vows. We barely know each other,” you giggled, attempting to lighten the situation and ease the tension.

“Then I will tell you all that I am, without secrets,” he reassured. “I will be honest and true to you, and I will love you for the rest of my life.” Giving your hands a light squeeze, his eyes widened with excitement at the revelation of your acceptance. His day started terribly and ended in euphoria, just as yours did. You appeared to him like a dream; unreal, and now that you were here, he wasn’t ready to part ways. You were a sign from the Valar, a gift to him like the stars were to all, special.

“Love?” you murmured.

Nodding his head as he leaned in closer, he reassured, “Yes, love. It is what has grown between you and I. Do you not feel it?” The hand that once cupped his cheek was pushed to rest against your heart, emphasising the truth.

A pregnant pause settled between you both as you took the moment to gather your thoughts. He was right, your heart was fluttering about like a bird and your body was feeling relaxed in his presence. “I do,” you croaked. “My heart feels light and elated, jubilant to learn of this newfound desire.”

“Hmm, that is your heart telling you that we are destined to be written among the stars. Our love was foretold; we are soulmates. Let us be as designed.” His pitch dropped to coo at you.

“This feels unnatural, never before. It's exhilarating but scary.”

“That is what love makes us feel, but take the leap of fate with me...please. Let us love each other.”

Stewing over his words, you chewed on the inside of your cheek, flipping answers around your head until you settled on one. “...Moments like this only come once in a lifetime, and I would hate to pass the opportunity... So, I accept your proposal. I will learn to love you Beleg.”

Masterlist

– He did complain a lot about the way the fever had him: “I feel sluggish,” “Is this what death feels like?” “How do you mortals withstand such atrocities?” “Is this how Fëanor felt before he combusted?”

– You fed him soup and he stared at the spoon like it had personally betrayed him. “I am perfectly capable of feeding myself.” Then nearly spilled the bowl into his lap when he tried. “Right. Yes. Carry on.”

– Once the fever got worse, he started talking nonsense. You caught the phrase “Noldorin dignity shall not fall to broth” and had to leave the room because you were laughing so hard at how dramatic he was acting over a fever.

– It was even better when he woke from a long nap looking dishevelled and flushed, he blinked slowly and said, “How long was I asleep?” “Six hours.” “…Has a new war started?”

– He thanked you awkwardly once he was better. Then added, “I hope you know I would do the same for you.” You just shook your head, “As if you already don’t. At least I complain a lot less than you do.”

– He was never late to rest again because you teasingly told people the King was vulnerable to soft blankets and tender affection. Though, he never confirmed or denied it. Just glared every time you brought it up.

𓏲⋆ ִֶָ ๋𓂃 ⋆ Argon

– Stubborn baby never even considered that overworking himself could lead to illness. He was built like a mountain, or so he believed, and the fever hit like a sneak attack in the middle of training drills. He fainted with all the grace of a tree tipping over.

– You found him slumped awkwardly against a boulder with his eyes glazed and shirt clinging to him from the heat. When he mumbled, “Oh dear…did the sun fall out the sky and land on me?” you had to bite back a laugh before calling for help.

– He was mortified to be carried into the house by others and promptly pretended to faint again when he spotted you hovering with a worried expression. “Tell no one of this, especially my brothers.”

– You forced him into bed and told him you’d handle everything. He pouted. Actually pouted. “But I take care of you, not the other way around…”

– Babying him became more amusing than you expected. He was huge, but absolutely pathetic with a fever, wrapped in too many blankets and still shivering. “You can’t leave me. I might perish in your absence,” he croaked dramatically when you stood to refill his water with a hand over his forehead. He slept like a Victorian child dying of a disease

– He kept trying to insist he could still go out and “polish his armour at least,” which earned him a death glare and a fresh dose of the disgusting herbal drink he hated.

– “This is poison,” he grumbled after sipping it. No amount of convincing you to let him be free and roam once again with nature, his natural habitat, gifted him with escape. “I feel wounded in this form. Is this punishment? Must I repent to be freed?”

– After the first day, he mellowed into a clingy, drowsy mess. Kept whining your name even when he was half-asleep. You’d be walking past and hear, “I thought of something tragic again. Come here.”

– At one point, he tried to write you a letter declaring you his saviour and heir to his sword, in case he ‘succumbed to the fire.’ It was…extremely dramatic and signed in what looked like tea.

– You teased him for days after he got better. He denied everything. “I would never call myself a burdened, my beautiful soul in need of salvation.” You had proof that he had turned into an oversized whiny baby. He refused to acknowledge it.

– Even after he healed, he occasionally faked a cough here or there to get your attention and bask in your doting. You knew it. He knew it. But he learned not to fake because you teased him about how clingy he became.

𓏲⋆ ִֶָ ๋𓂃 ⋆ Aegnor

– You’d told him several times to rest, to take a day off from wandering the northern borders and pouring over battle plans, but Aegnor’s way of ‘rest’ was sharpening his sword in silence.

– You didn’t know something was wrong until he stopped muttering. He always muttered under his breath when focused. And there he was, Snow White in the flesh, swaying slightly like a fragile tree in the wind.

– “I’m fine,” he managed to say before he toppled sideways like a brick and you had to physically drag him inside by the arm, cursing the pride of elves the whole way.

– He didn’t understand fevers. “I do not fall ill,” he insisted while looking visibly feverish and incoherent. Then spent the next ten minutes interrogating his own body. “Why am I sweating so much? Am I dying? I feel like a Balrog with all this fire inside me. Kiss me before I perish and become one.”

– Despite being hot to the touch and weak-limbed, he still tried to lecture you. “You should not have to do this. It is not your—” and then he sneezed six times in a row. The lecture ended.

– You gave him a cold cloth for his forehead and he squinted at you as though it were a holy relic. “You always do this when I’m unwell?” You just rolled your eyes at his dramatics. “You’ve never been unwell before you overdramatic child.”

– Very bad at being still. Kept trying to sit up and give orders through a raspy voice like some bedridden king. You had to throw a pillow at him and say, “You are not issuing battle commands from this bed, Aegnor. Sleep.”

– You tucked him in and he pretended he didn’t like it while making complaints for you to tuck him in properly. But then he caught you gently brushing his hair from his forehead and sighed like he hadn’t breathed in years. “I feel like a pampered princess. Massage my feet, please?”

– Once the fever broke, he wouldn’t stop apologising for being a burden, reckless, and for the sounds he made when sleeping.

– “If you ever try to get up when sick again, I’ll tie you to the bed.” The fool was more interested than terrified. “…Can you specify in what context?”

– He was never careless again though. But he did fake a fever once, just to see if you’d pamper him the same way. It was so terribly done you threw a cold cup of water at him and said, “Next time, try acting lessons first.”

𓏲⋆ ִֶָ ๋𓂃 ⋆ Rog

– Rog had two speeds: silent death machine and exhausted death machine. You were the only one who could tell when the switch happened. He didn’t admit it, but you saw how he stumbled just slightly getting out his high-stool.

– He passed out in his forge, collapsed across his workbench with metal dust all over his face. “Rog, you absolute idiot,” you whispered, lifting his head. “Even you’re not made of steel.”

– When he woke up, he was very confused to find himself in bed with your cool hand on his forehead. He blinked slowly. “…Did I perish? Is this the afterlife?” “No,” you replied. “This is me putting up with your nonsense.”

– He was flushed with fever and incredibly grumpy about it. “This is undignified,” he grumbled. “Elves do not—” “Rog, you’re as hot as a furnace. I can use your body to melt iron and craft a new sword.”

– Getting him to rest was like trying to tie down a mountain lion. Every time you left the room, he tried to get up and sneak back to his forge. You caught him once half-dressed and sneezing on his own apron. “Explain yourself,” you said. “I missed it,” he mumbled pathetically.

– You confiscated all his tools and locked the door. But then you got a giant elf who sulked for three hours. Wouldn’t even look at you. Eventually, when you offered soup, he sniffed dramatically. “I suppose I must accept nourishment in these dark days for I may fade away on the morrow. Very well.”

– Was very quiet during the worst of the fever—not used to feeling this weak. He whispered once, “You are gentle with me.” You almost missed it, he was so quiet. You smoothed back his hair and replied, “Only because you’d throw a tantrum if I tried to be stern.”

– Absolutely hated the herbal remedy, but bore it stoically like a warrior. Until you turned away and he tried to hide it under the bed. “Did you just throw your medicine under the mattress?” “Prove it.”

– When he was finally well again, he forged you a ridiculously beautiful brooch shaped like a lily, muttered something about resilience and guardianship, and then walked off pretending his ears weren’t red.

– You caught him staring at you multiple times afterwards, with a strange softness in his eyes.

𓏲⋆ ִֶָ ๋𓂃 ⋆ Beleg

– It started with him coming back from a hunt looking pale and uncharacteristically quiet. You thought he was just tired until he nearly dropped his bow trying to string it and mumbled something about “the trees spinning strangely…”

– Beleg insisted it was nothing. “Elves do not fall ill,” he claimed confidently while swaying slightly. You poked his forehead and said, “You’re burning up, Hotman.” He squinted at you, betrayed. “That’s not supposed to happen.”

– The second you bundled him into bed, he became the most restless patient imaginable. “I’m perfectly capable of standing guard at least. Just open the window, I’ll shoot from here.” “You’ll shoot nothing but a fevered hallucination.”

– You caught him sleep-talking once. Something about a particularly sassy squirrel that stole his dried fruit. He snored afterwards. You never let him live it down.

– He got progressively needier the higher his temperature rose. He was used to caring for others during patrol, not being coddled like a napping fawn. You offered him soup and he blinked, looked genuinely moved. “This is...for me?”

– He kept trying to apologise. For worrying you, the way he slumped, the sniffling. “Beleg,” you said, smoothing a wet cloth over his brow, “I will throttle you gently if you apologise one more time.”

– “Of course it is.” “I feel like a prince. Or a tree spirit. Do tree spirits eat soup?”

– He calmed down only when you curled up in the chair next to his bed, reading aloud. At one point he groggily reached for your hand. “You read like summer wind. Warm. Gentle.” “You’re delirious.” “Still true.”

– You caught him later polishing your boots as repayment. “It’s not much,” he mumbled, “but I will earn your kindness.” You shook your head and kissed the top of his stupidly noble head.

– After the fever broke, he tried to sneak off to patrol. You blocked the door and raised an eyebrow and grabbed him by the collar. “Try that again and I’m tying you to the bedposts.” “…I thought you said no threats 🥺.”

– The next time you so much as sniffled, he turned into an overbearing mother hen. “Blankets. You need seven. Eat this bark tea. Sleep now. I’ll sing.” “Are you getting revenge?” “Who, me? Never.”

𓏲⋆ ִֶָ ๋𓂃 ⋆ Elrond

– Elrond getting sick was so unthinkable that you thought it was a prank. When he walked into your quarters clutching a blanket around his shoulders, face pale and voice hoarse, your jaw dropped.

– “I believe,” he rasped, “I may be... experiencing a mild biological disruption.” Are you saying you’re sick?” “...Possibly.”

– It was absurdly funny watching a healer become the patient. He knew exactly what to do, but refused to admit he needed to. You actually had to steal his own healing supplies and hide them so he’d stop trying to treat himself in secret.

– He refused to call it an illness at first. “It’s an imbalance of humours.” “You sneezed on my sleeve, Elrond.” “A momentary lapse.”

– “I’m merely fatigued,” he said, swaying slightly while holding a cup of tea. “My immune system is…unique.” You’re so dramatic, Elrond. It’s just a small fever caused by your workaholic self.”

– He was so embarrassed. “I treat others. I cannot be the one who is treated.” “Elrond, you’re literally a half-elf. You can get sick. Own it.” He groaned and buried his face in a pillow.

– The worst part? He still tried to work. He tried to get up and write letters to Galadriel. He tried to mix tonics while sniffling. He tried to instruct you on how to care for him, and you occasionally placed a finger on his lips to silence him.

– “You do realise this is the most ironic moment in the history of Middle-earth? The healer, caught in his own web of care.” He sighed dramatically. “I suppose I should have warded myself better.”

– He became clingier the worse his fever got. You were trying to leave the room once and he caught your sleeve weakly. “I am accustomed to the solitude of illness, but...I would rather not be alone this time.” So you stayed. Sat on the floor beside the bed, reading from one of his many ridiculous old scrolls. He fell asleep mid-sentence.

– You caught him mumbling in his sleep once: “No more root paste. Too bitter. I want honey cakes.” All you could do was stare at him in utter disbelief, like ‘Sir, you’re the same healer who scolded me for the same thing and now look at you.’

– Eventually, he allowed himself to laugh about it. “You have my thanks,” he said one evening, watching the sunset with his hair loose, finally looking more himself. “I hope to return the favour…and when I do, I shall do so a hundredfold.”

– When the fever broke, he refused to look you in the eye for half a day. “I apologise for my lamentable state. It was unbecoming.” “You mean the part where you demanded ‘emotional stabilisation’ and tried to hug my pillow? Never thought there would be a day you would become so…dramatic over a fever you caused.”

– That night you caught him placing a small vial on your nightstand. A tonic against fever. “Just in case,” he said softly, not expecting you to wake up. “I’m not risking being out-caretaken ever again.”

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- Beleg was rather easygoing and helpful, nothing you imagined an elven march warden to be, but you were grateful and seemed to click immediately, conversing about things and making funny jokes. He helped you find the herbs you needed before escorting you back to the borders back to your hometown. 

- You grew to like his company and didn’t want it to be a one-time encounter. You hoped to see him again, but since he likely had better things to do, you kept quiet and thanked him for his help before bidding farewell when it was time for you to return home before your family got worried.

- A few days passed, and you arrived at your usual spot where you liked to read in peace without your family bothering you. You enjoyed listening to the sounds of nature, and your spot offered a nice view of the surroundings. 

- You had nearly forgotten the incident inside Doriath’s borders but you still missed Beleg and his calming presence. The thought of purposely getting lost again just to see him crossed your mind, but you didn’t want to bother him and possibly make him annoyed with you. It was perhaps better just to forget the elf and move on with your life. 

- Well, you didn’t have to think about it too long– because after reading a few pages of your book. You were startled by someone commenting on the story and leaning against the tree right beside you, and that certain someone was Beleg himself. 

- His appearance confused you, and the elf was only amused by your surprised reaction. 

- Beleg told you he came to check if you had gotten lost again and then found you reading and decided to join in. You were happy to see him and slightly offended by his remark. You were not that bad in directions. 

- He complimented your taste in stories because he enjoyed reading the book with you, and then strangely, you just started spending time from there, talking and reading books you sometimes brought with you. 

- He was fun company, and you enjoyed listening to the stories about his kin and the forest he lived in. Menegroth and its forest sounded magical. You nearly wished to see it one day. 

- He sometimes even brought books you might enjoy in the common language since you were not familiar with his people’s language. 

- His free-spirited nature was so infectious that you sometimes wandered through the woods with him, discovering plants and animals you had not seen before. You began to enjoy his company more every day, and he gave good advice when times seemed rough and you felt down. 

- You valued the friendship you shared with him, and honestly speaking, you don’t think you have ever felt so heard and valued by anyone else, not even with your family. You love them, but sometimes it feels like they brush you off more and leave your feelings invalid whenever an argument is born. 

- Like this incident. You did not want to bother Beleg with your familial drama, but you were feeling so down after the argument with your family that you needed someone else’s company, so you wandered to your usual meeting spot and found him there. 

—------

“Morning, (Name)! How are you feeling on this wonderful morning?” Beleg greeted with that usual grin of his. You nearly felt better, but the heavy thoughts in your mind only made you utter a greeting in return as you stopped beside the tree. 

Beleg seemed to sense something was going on as his grin dropped, and he looked at you with concern. “(Name)? Is everything alright? You seem… like you have a dark cloud over your head,” he questioned. 

You unintentionally choked and released a tear. “Sorry! It’s just…” You dried off the tear and tried to control yourself. “... I’m just having a bad day,” 

“Well, it seems it's more than just a bad day,” Beleg uttered as he carefully observed you and your body language. He was now more concerned and could sense you were holding in deep emotions and not the good kind. “Tell me, my friend. What happened? Did something terrible happen to you or anyone you know?” he asked as he gently laid his hand on your back. 

You struggled to hold in your tears, but they forcefully came out, and choked gasps escaped your mouth. “No! It’s… “You rubbed your eyes, but they still watered with painful hot tears. “I had an argument with my family, and nothing good was said,” you confessed. “I feel so empty… and like – nothing I do matters,” Beleg’s eyes dropped with sympathy as he comfortably rubbed your back. 

“I don’t believe that. You had done quite a lot of things that mattered,” Beleg said. “It doesn’t really feel like it, especially to my family,” you said. 

Beleg was quiet for a moment before wrapping his arms around you and bringing you in a gentle hug. You were surprised for a moment before wrapping your arms around him and weeping out all the tears you tried to hold in. Beleg gently stroked your hair as you cried against his chest, nearly feeling his own tears form in his eyes. 

𝑳𝒆𝒈𝒐𝒍𝒂𝒔 ⋆˚꩜｡

・His heart skips a beat

・He never thought anything of it, it's just what he does. He keeps you from harm. Even though you can handle yourself; Legolas wants you to be safe. Always. Forever.

・Legolas smiles at you, moving a piece of hair from your face

"It is my job, Meleth nîn."

・You smile back at him, grabbing his hand and squeezing.

・His nature soothes you, without even trying, he makes you feel safe.

・Because Legolas is never too far from you, even if you don't notice. He's got an eye on you near-always.

・And if he cannot be there, then he will send a few other elves to keep you safe (travelling, visits in the forest/woods etc)

"I will always keep you from harm," he tells you one night. The fireplace warming your very bones. Or maybe it's his words that make you feel so.

𝑨𝒓𝒂𝒈𝒐𝒓𝒏 ✧˖°.

・The night sky twinkles down at you both. The fire small yet burning strong.

・You're sitting next to each other, hands entwined, glances stolen.

・It wasn't something you planned on. But in that moment, it felt right.

・And as you tell him, Aragorn's body turns molten.

・He takes your hand and kisses your palm, letting your words hang in the air.

・You lock eyes. And at once you are soothed, keeping you at peace with only a look.

"You do not know how much that means to me," Aragorn whispers; voice low.

・A shiver runs down your spine

・Goosebumps erupt on your skin

・This is what he does to you, and he knows it.

・With a soft hand to your cheek, Aragorn slowly moves closer and then his lips meet your own.

𝑩𝒐𝒓𝒐𝒎𝒊𝒓 ⋆˚꩜｡

・You were walking back from the feast, hand in hand. Bellies full from meat, vegetables and ale.

・Everyone was there, even the Hobbits, who were still dancing on a table with large mugs in each hand.

・You turned a corner and it was quiet. Peaceful.

・The candles were lit and sat against window sils, and in arrangements.

・You didn't think about saying it but the words just came out.

・The white walls and floors of Minas Tirith echoed your words: "you make me feel safe."

・Boromir stops instantly... His heart suddenly full. So full, it could overflow.

"I love you," he whispers, moving to cup your cheeks with his large hands.

・He places a kiss on your lips and warmth runs through you.

・Boromir does everything in his power to keep you safe; and not just from attacks, but from the intimate worries and anxiety that one has in life.

・He never thought he would end up with a partner, especially one who notices when he puts in effort...

𝑬́𝒐𝒎𝒆𝒓 ✧˖°.

・You were alone with him in the stables. Everyone else was taking cover.

・Both of you were trying to calm the horses because of the raging storm.

・You cooed and whispered stories to the horses, letting them now that nothing was going to hurt them.

・Within half an hour, every horse had settled. And the storm slowly passed.

・But not before you had jumped from the fleeting thunder

・That's when Eomer helped calm you too. You let him; knowing that he meant no jest.

・Eomer had moved you onto his lap, clutching you close. Your head was tucked underneath his chin and he whispered things to you.

"You make me feel safe," you say with a smile. Your arms clutching his.

Rubbing your back, he says: "I will always protect you. No matter where you are or what you have done."

𝑮𝒍𝒐𝒓𝒇𝒊𝒏𝒅𝒆𝒍 ⋆˚꩜｡

・You were both laying in the sunshine

・Backs against a large tree-trunk, watching as animals hop, skip and jump by.

・It isn't until Glorfindel spots a wolf that his demeanor changes

"What is wrong?" you ask, looking at his face for an answer

In the most gentlest voice, he says: "Be still. Do not move."

・You stay like that for ten minutes until the wolf walks away.

・Glorfindel's hand lets go of your arm. And you move from being behind him.

"You know ... you make me feel safe."

・You had both gotten up from where you were sat and his hands cupped your cheek. Moving the twigs and leafs from your hair.

"That means more than you know, Melmëa," (beloved)

𝑭𝒂𝒓𝒂𝒎𝒊𝒓 ✧˖°.

・Lying in bed together, candles burning on either side of your bedside tables

・It's a quiet night. Both of you tired from the activities of the day.

・The moon hangs high in the air, with stars so bright. You always leave the balcony open on warmer nights. Just to see the stars.

・Faramir doesn't mind. He loves what you love.

・And when you come and cuddle against his shoulder, you tell him:

"You make me feel safe."

・His heartbeat speeds up, a blush blossoming on his cheeks.

"Well, I-I try to keep you safe. You're my life-" his words are bare and he is sensitive.

・You pull him up from bed and lead him over to the balcony.

・You wrap his arms around you and look up. The stars seem to gaze upon you as well.

𝑬𝒍𝒓𝒐𝒉𝒊𝒓 ⋆˚꩜｡

・He was helping you gather some herbs from the garden when you heard a twig snap

・Both of you stopped and waited. Expecting danger; Elrohir had been silently walking toward you, making sure nothing happened to you.

・When another twig snapped and out jumped a hare, you started to laugh, as did Elrohir. His hand dropped from his sword hilt and he gave a big belly laugh.

"Oh Elrohir...you do make me feel safe, no matter what the danger may be-"

・You had tiptoed over and wrapped your arms around him. Your basket of herbs forgotten

"Oh Meldanya (my beloved), know that I would look after you no matter the danger."

𝑬𝒍𝒍𝒂𝒅𝒂𝒏 ✧˖°.

・It had been a close call.

・Attacked by orcs while out riding

・When the threat had been slain, Elladan looked at you with blood splatter on his face

"Are you hurt?" He became frantic, looking you over, making sure you have no wounds.

"El, I'm fine!" You stand there, and take ahold of his hands. Bringing them up to your chest, you hold them against you.

"You don't just keep me safe, you make me feel safe-"

・He shakes his head, and looks at you like you hung the moon.

"You know just what to say, don't you..."

And being the only woman in the Fellowship, it could be difficult to find privacy. Your comrades meant well, but sometimes they could be overbearing. You appreciated their concern, but you could take care of yourself - if you hadn't been able to handle yourself, Elrond wouldn't have allowed you to be part of the mission, would he?

So, to find your privacy, you had taken to rising earlier than everyone else and bathing in a nearby stream - if one was available. Those were your only moments of solace, and you had to admit, that it was nice to clean yourself of the grime and sweat from trekking through the woods. Mainly for reasons of comfort and ease of movement, of course, though there were other reasons that you liked to be clean - reasons that were really quite embarrassing. Reasons that pertained to not wanting to feel unattractive in front of a certain Gondorian captain.

Really, with the fate of all Middle Earth at stake, you were worried about not looking presentable enough for a man? Was that truly what was important right now? But the irrationality of your reasoning didn’t make it any less true, no matter how irritated it made you feel towards yourself.

If you were honest with yourself, you hadn’t been that impressed by Boromir when the two of you had first met in Rivendell. He was handsome, yes, but there was no shortage of good-looking men in the world. At first, he he seemed like nothing but another warrior concerned with nothing but honour and glory. It wasn’t until later that your feelings for him began to grow.

You soon found that Boromir - while indeed a brave and talented warrior - was also gentle and caring, and that was what had drawn you to him. He protected you and the other members of the Fellowship like he would lay down his life for you, and the way he laughed and played with the Hobbits was awfully sweet. You went from thinking nothing much of him to beginning to fall for him at a speed that was incredibly surprising to you, as it had never happened before.

You were thinking of Boromir as you stripped off your clothes and armour, leaving them in a pile on the bank of the stream close enough for you to reach when you needed them, but not so close that they would easily get wet. First, you dipped your toes into the cool water, then quickly submerged yourself. You sighed contentedly, moving deeper into the water and beginning to wash the dirt from your skin. It was a simple pleasure, but a pleasure nonetheless.

So relaxed were you - which was dangerous, as you were out in the wild and needed to be constantly vigilant - that you didn’t even notice that you were not alone in the stream, and remained completely ignorant until you heard a shocked voice uttering your name. Your eyes flew open to see Boromir standing before you in the water, completely bare like you.

"C-Captain Boromir!" you almost shrieked, your face flushing deeply and your arms raising to cover your chest. Your eyes wanted to trail downwards, to finally catch a glimpse of the muscular physique you knew was there - that which you had fantasised about as you watched him teaching Merry and Pippin how to defend themselves, or as he sparred with Aragorn - beneath the clear water. It took an intense amount of willpower, you successfully fought the urge.

Boromir was embarrassed too, though he wasn't being quite as obvious about it. "Apologies, my lady," he responded, his voice strained. "If I had known that you were bathing too, I would have kept my distance. I promise that it was not my intention to intrude on you." He looked at you as if he were begging you to accept his apology.

A few moments passed, and after the shock had worn off at least a little, you nodded empathetically. "I understand, Captain. You are not that kind of man. I was just shocked, that is all."

Boromir gave you a small smile, clearly relieved by your answer. "I am glad. I would not wish for you to think less of me."

There is no chance of that, you thought to yourself, settling down with your back against a large boulder near the bank of the stream. I think very highly of you indeed... more than you know. Luckily, you still had enough sense to not say such a thing out loud. Boromir’s proximity combined with your mutual nakedness was making you feel weak in the knees, and you didn’t wish to embarrass yourself in front of him anymore than you already had.

Boromir moved in the water, and once again your willpower was tested, finding yourself tempted to peek at his naked body. This time, you indulged yourself a little, looking at him out of the corner of your eye and hoping he wouldn’t notice. Even through your quick, embarrassed glances, you now knew that his physique was just as striking as you had imagined. Your mind began to wander, presenting some tantalising images of feeling his strong muscles beneath your palms, and then of brushing your lips against his chest, hearing his moans above you as you slowly moved lower—

You snapped back into reality rather unceremoniously when you heard Boromir say your name. That was when you realised that your attempts at subtly admiring him had quickly turned into staring, and you had been caught in the act. Your cheeks began to burn with embarrassment, and it took what felt like an eternity for you to be able to meet his gaze once more.

And to your surprise (and delight), when you looked up to Boromir’s face, he didn’t seem disturbed or uncomfortable. Rather he was… smiling? And even better, there was a pale flush on his cheeks that indicated perhaps your admiration was not entirely one-sided.

When he saw your shocked expression, Boromir laughed quietly. "I have been trying to stop myself from staring at you ever since we first met, but now that I know you wish to stare back… perhaps I was worrying over nothing."

"Pardon…?" you stammered out, not trusting your own mind to determine whether this was real or another one of the dreams you’d had about Boromir since meeting him. Though this did feel far more real than any dream or fantasy you’d ever experienced in your life… you could feel the water on your skin, the cool morning breeze, and the heat rushing through your body as Boromir looked at you with darkened eyes.

"I have been admiring you since Rivendell, my lady. I knew right away that you were the most beautiful woman I had ever laid eyes on, and when I got the chance to know you better… I found that you were not only beautiful, but a woman of both gentleness and strength." Boromir looked down, seeming almost bashful, something that you were not expecting of a strong warrior like himself. "You have stolen my heart, in a way no other woman ever has."

"Captain Boromir…" Your eyes were wide as you looked at him, still trying to discern whether this was real or not.

"Please, just call me 'Boromir'. There is no need for such formality between us, especially now." Boromir moved closer, his hand coming up to rest against your cheek. His skin felt warm, and you could feel the callouses on his palm, something you would expect from a lifelong warrior such as himself. But at the same time his touch was so gentle, like you were something precious to him.

Suddenly, you didn’t care whether or not this was a dream - if it was, there was no harm in indulging, and if it wasn’t… well, Boromir wanted you quite obviously. There was no downside to finally allowing yourself to be with this man that you had been pining over.

And so, you closed the gap between the two of you and crashed your lips against his, your fingers tangling in his damp hair. Boromir let out a quiet noise of surprise, but a few seconds later he was reciprocating enthusiastically, kissing you back with a fervour that more than matched your own. One of his strong arms wrapped around your waist to pull you closer, and you couldn’t help but moan softly as you felt your bare skin touch his for the very first time.

"I have been thinking about this since Rivendell," Boromir admitted huskily, pulling away from your lips to press fervent kisses to your jawline. Once he reached just below your ear, he took a moment to gently nip at your earlobe before his lips trailed down the side of your neck. His large hands were now eagerly grabbing at your backside, pulling you even closer to him.

"As have I," you whispered in response. It felt good to finally admit your desires out loud - though it certainly didn't feel better than giving in to them. You could feel Boromir's facial hair scratching against the sensitive skin of your neck as he sucked a mark into it. At this moment, you weren't even considering the idea that someone back at camp might notice it later. You were too focused on the present to even think about the future.

Boromir grinned against your neck, nipping gently as his hands moved - up from your backside to your mid back, before slipping around to the front of your body, and moving higher until he grasped your breasts. "These have been quite the distraction…" You felt his thumbs grazing over your nipples, making them harden beneath his touch, and you let out a gasp. "You’re even more beautiful than I imagined…"

One of his hands left your breast to slide down your stomach until he cupped your mound, brushing his fingers against your clit, while other hand continued to toy with your nipple. Your legs spread a little further on instinct, and you braced yourself against the smooth boulder you were leaning against.

"That’s it, my darling, don’t be shy. Open yourself up to me," Boromir whispered lowly in your ear, as he slipped one finger inside of you rather easily, the pad of his thumb beginning to slowly rub circles over your clit. You let out a quiet curse, which seemed to amuse him judging by his smile.

Boromir kept his eyes on you as he continued to touch you, wanting to see exactly how you reacted. You mesmerised him when you were fully clothed walking through the woods, so seeing you completely bare, writhing beneath his touch? You were a temptation that he could not ignore. Once he could tell you were beginning to teeter on the edge, he pulled his hand from you, and your eyes snapped open, disappointed by the lack of stimulation.

"I would like to taste you," Boromir told you, making your heart flutter even more. You had imagined more than once having his head buried between your legs as he lapped at you until you could hardly speak. "But as there is no way for me to do that right now without risking us being seen, I suppose it will have to wait for another time."

Another time, he said. He already wanted to do this again. That fact excited you beyond belief, that this could happen more than once. You hadn’t even finished doing it the first time, but you were already excited for the next.

Boromir could see the excitement behind your eyes, and he grinned at your enthusiasm. "For now…" He didn’t need to finish that thought for you to know what he meant. He kissed you again, more sweetly this time, and you felt his hands on your thighs, manoeuvring them so they were wrapped around his waist. You could feel his hardness against you, rubbing against your core, and you practically collapsed into his arms.

"Are you ready?" Boromir asked gently, looking into your eyes, his own gaze filled with both adoration and desire.

"Yes," you told him softly, sounding almost desperate. "Please."

That was all he needed to hear. Using his hold on your waist, Boromir pulled you down onto him, slowly burying himself inside of you. Both of you let out groans, and he pressed his forehead to yours as he stayed still, allowing both of you to adjust to the new sensation.

"You feel incredible," he murmured brokenly, his eyes squeezed shut. The tone in his voice made it sound as if he were struggling to keep himself together, like you felt so good that if he didn’t focus properly, he would fall apart in an instant. It made you feel strangely powerful that you were able to affect a man like him in such a way. "You’ll be the death of me…"

The two of you stayed frozen for a few more moments, until you started to become impatient and whispered "go on" against his lips. And as soon as you gave the signal, Boromir began to move, drawing out of you before pushing himself deep inside again, almost painfully slow.

He was big, certainly thicker than anything you’d experienced before, and there was a stretch that stung a little at the beginning. It faded quickly however, and it wasn’t long before you had your face buried in his neck as you panted and moaned. Boromir’s fingertips dug into your hips, definitely hard enough to leave bruises but not enough for you to care. How could you care right now, anyway? Your mind was so addled by the pleasure you were feeling that you barely even remembered where you were.

As his hips moved against yours, Boromir’s hands were everywhere, almost like he was trying to memorise every inch of your body using only his sense of touch. Your own hands grasped onto his shoulders, occasionally moving downwards so you could run your hands over his toned torso, and making him gasp softly against your skin. He began to move faster, and as a result your moans grew louder and more frequent.

Boromir knew that it wasn’t safe for you to be so loud - though your pretty moans were driving him crazy - as anyone could hear and come to investigate, whether that was one of their comrades or someone more unsavoury. Rather than tell you to quiet down, however, he kissed you again, swallowing each and every noise that wanted to escape you. This also had the added benefit of keeping him quiet as well, because he could feel his own willpower slipping.

Again, his pace increased, and you were barely even able to think anymore. Boromir could tell that you were close, and oh, how he wanted to see you fall over the edge. Wanting to make sure he saw it before meeting his own end, his hand slipped between your bodies to rub at your clit again, while the other toyed with your nipple. You tightened around him and he doubled his efforts, bringing his lips close to your ear. "I can feel that you’re close, my darling… let go, I want to feel you come undone for me…"

Almost as if you were waiting for his permission, you immediately fell apart once he said the word, trembling violently in his embrace as you called out his name. By some miracle, Boromir was quick enough to crash his lips against yours once more to muffle the sound, as he continued to fuck you through your climax.

Boromir tried to hold out as long as he could, but soon enough he faltered. With a groan against your lips he let go too, spilling himself inside of you before pressing his forehead against yours once more. Both of you were panting, your bodies shaking slightly as you recovered from your shared experience, holding onto each other for dear life.

"You know…" you began breathlessly, once you had recovered enough to be able to speak again. "I think that was the best bath I’ve ever had…"

Boromir grinned widely, peppering kisses on your cheek before planting one on the tip of your nose. "Glad to be of service, my lady," he said in a teasing tone, but you could tell that he was being genuine. You placed your hand on his cheek, brushing your nose against his and then gently kissing his lips, much more chastely than the previous kisses you had shared.

The two of you stayed like that for a few more minutes, revelling in being so close to each other now that you knew that you were not alone in your feelings. After a while you pulled away from each other, making sure to wash the sweat that had formed on your bodies from your earlier activities.

"We should return to camp soon. The others might wake and notice that we’re missing," Boromir said solemnly, knowing that duty called for you both, even if he would love to stay here with you forever. You nodded, and the two of you waded out of the water, drying yourselves and getting dressed.

Once the two of you were looking presentable again, Boromir took your hand in his, looking into your eyes with a rather vulnerable expression. "I hope… this will not be our last encounter?" he asked, a subtly pleading tone to his voice, which made your heart melt. This was real, he truly did care for you.

✧ Taking note of what makes your eyes shine brightest, he begins to tour more specifically with your preferences in mind.

✧ As you turn around to express your love of something, he realises he’s too focused on trying to capture every inch of your beauty - especially while being in awe like that - that he misses the question.

✧ Aragorn hopes he isn’t blushing too much when he asks you to repeat the question, this time quickly answering it to the best of his abilities.

✧ The next room captures your attention, and Aragorn instinctively goes back to watching you and laughing with you before he realises what he’s doing.

✧ It’s then he realises the blush on his face isn’t because of embarrassment - but because he likes you.

𝐋𝐞𝐠𝐨𝐥𝐚𝐬

✧ Legolas is enjoying his time in Imladris, with one of the greatest things being the company. There is you, of course, and the rest of the Fellowship - but it is also nice to spend some time with fellow elves (who aren’t his subjects).

✧ Or, almost fellow elves, such as the sons of Elrond. He has always been intrigued by them, not just for the heritage, and it’s good to spend time with the two. Eventually, in a conversation with Elrohir, the topic finally comes up.

✧ “What is it like, living with Lúthien’s gift?”

✧ “Gift?” Elrohir looks at the elf, “Most call it a choice. Is there a reason you ask? A… someone you ask for?”

✧ His immediate reaction is to say no, and that he is just curious, but then he thinks harder. Is there someone he would stay on Middle Earth for?

✧ As he thinks, an image of the two of you - bow in your hand and grinning at him, bathed in sunlight - comes into his mind. And his mind subconsciously answers the question. If you would have him, he would answer yes.

✧ The elf stays silent, and Elrohir gives a knowing look, before speaking briefly. Offering some advice, and congratulating Legolas on at least figuring out his feelings.

𝐅𝐫𝐨𝐝𝐨

✧ Frodo realised he liked you from just about the second he laid eyes on you - you were unlike anyone he had ever known, and that excited and fascinated him.

✧ He expected the crush to go away, eventually, once the novelty wore off and you were known to him as a friend.

✧ Except it never did. With every new smile he saw from you, every word, every laugh falling from your lips - he slowly became more and more enamoured by you.

✧ It was after yet another night that you’d come round for dinner, it was becoming a regular (and welcome) occurrence that he truly realised he didn’t just have a crush.

✧ Frodo was in love with you.

✧ When he’d finally closed the door, watching as you’d walked away, he could still feel the red on his cheeks - and could see the knowing smile Bilbo gave him when he’d turned around.

✧ Patting him on the back, Bilbo had given the young hobbit words of support and encouragement - a twinkle in his eye as he hinted this love may not be unrequited.

𝐒𝐚𝐦

✧ Sam had seen you in and around the Shire a few times before, stopping briefly to look at you before going back to what he was doing.

✧ At first he’d thought it was just him being observant, until Pippin had been over and pointed out that of all the hobbits in the Shire - he’d only stop to look at you.

✧ He was mortified to realise what he'd been doing, and had thrown himself back into his work with much more vigour. Trying to stop himself from being distracted, again.

✧ It works ok, but while in the Green Dragon Pippin assures him that the comments weren't meant in a bad way, and that they were all glad Sam had 'found someone'.

✧ Sam almost isn't sure what they mean, until he thinks back to all the times he's seen you - the times he's blushed. The very small interactions you two have had, that have then lightened his day.

✧ It's thanks to Pippin's teasing he realises he has a crush on you, and then thanks to Frodo when he can finally interact with you.

𝐌𝐞𝐫𝐫𝐲

✧ Merry realised he liked you from the second he laid eyes on you.

✧ And not in a silly, young-hobbits-in-love type of crush - but something that reminded him of the story books he'd read as a child.

✧ The ones that said when you met the one for you, you'd feel sparks like Gandalf's fireworks and you'd just know.

✧ He did just know, taking the first opportunity he could to talk to you; talking to you felt even easier than most, as though you were a lifelong friend and not just a stranger.

✧ Every time you make eye-contact, he searches in your eyes for the spark he so clearly feels in his - and when he makes you laugh for the first time he's delighted to see it appear (however briefly).

✧ Each passing day cemented this feeling even more, but he still believes it was love at first sight (for him at least).

𝐏𝐢𝐩𝐩𝐢𝐧

✧ When the two of you first met, Pippin thought you were an angel (an opinion he still holds, in some regards). The second he realised you were of Middle Earth, he also realised he was blushing like a fool.

✧ He knows the attraction isn't just superficial from the day he meets you, but he also sees it as a crush at the start.

✧ And then he starts to spend time with you.

✧ You make him laugh, he makes you laugh. He makes you smile, you make him smile just by being there.

✧ It's also at this time when he realises that what he feels for you isn't just a crush.

✧ He likes,  no - loves, every part of you. And to call it simply a crush would be an insult to his heart.

𝐁𝐨𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐫

✧ Like a lot of the soldiers of the White City, his spirits are high as he watches from Osgiliath, eagerly awaiting the return of the rangers, if only for a little while.

✧ Most of the men are looking forward to the night of celebrations and drinking, although some are more looking forward to seeing their loved ones come home.

✧ Boromir is looking forward to seeing his little brother come home - but he isn’t just looking forward to seeing his little brother. Faramir isn't the only one he dearly misses.

✧ As Captain, he’s in prime position when the rangers come in; immediately identifying the two of you and going over.

✧ He pulls Faramir into a hug before looking at you with a grin, unsure of what to do before you embrace him as well.

✧ Instantly, he hugs back - just as firm and confident as with Faramir’s hug - but inside he can feel his heart almost beating out of his chest.

✧ The grin is still on his face as he comes out of it, and when you begin to talk his heart calms down, although only a little.

✧ It’s only then when he realises his heart isn’t beating fast around you because you’re nervous, but because he loves you.

𝐅𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐫

✧ Faramir knew he liked you from the second he laid eyes on you, even if he was slightly too drunk to realise just how deep it went at the time.

✧ He truly didn’t drunkenly hook-up with people, but he did tend to gravitate towards people he liked. People like you, even when you were in the dark corner. Especially when you were in the dark corner.

✧ And of course, he had kissed you back. The only reason he didn’t try to take it further was because he could smell the alcohol on both of you.

✧ When he had woken up the next morning, he regretted that he had not gotten your name (and the slight hangover).

✧ Then when he saw you, lined up as one of Boromir’s potential betrothed, he could feel his heart do two things.

✧ Skip, at the sight of you again. And drop, at the idea you didn’t love him back.

𝐄𝐨𝐰𝐲𝐧

✧ Staring after Aragorn, Éowyn takes a deep breath, trying to remain calm. From chasing him down, and telling him that she knows looking after the children brings honour (without renown). But she should be allowed to seek honour in other places.

✧ And then she feels a hand rest on her shoulder, calming, as she turns around to see you behind her.

✧ You can see her thought process, and tell her that you aren’t here to override your brother’s - or her king’s - orders. But you are here to give her this.

✧ When you press the sword into Éowyn’s hands, finely polished and gleaming perfectly, she can barely think of the words to thank you before she notices your traditional sword is missing.

✧ Instantly, she realises what you’ve given here and tries to give it back - but you keep it firmly in her hands.

✧ “There are many fine weapons in this armoury. Think of it as my gift to you, for now. A promise that I will be coming back to collect it."

✧ "Besides, it brings me comfort that if orcs get into the caves they shall find a warrior there.”

✧ Taking your hand away from the sword you disappear to follow Aragorn, and Éowyn is left holding it. As she watches the two of you leave together, she realises that she may have fallen in love with the wrong sibling (at least at first).

𝐄𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐫

✧ When orcs are spotted within Rohan's borders, in two separate places no less, Éomer immediately takes action.

✧ It's bad luck you're on the second group of riders sent out, and worse when you haven't arrived back when Éomer does.

✧ He tries to reassure himself that it's simply bad luck, and nothing dangerous has happened, but by the second day his nerves get the better of him.

✧ With Éowyn he sets out to wait next to the gate you'll ride in from - a traditional practice.

✧ While waiting, he takes the time to look around and sees who else waits for the riders. When women there bat their eyes at him he ignores it until he realises something.

✧ Éomer is one of the only men there, and the only one not blood-related to the rider he is waiting for. Almost everyone else here is a parent, a sibling, or a lover.

✧ So where does that leave him?

✧ He feels blush begin to rise on his face as he realises precisely which one he is. Or, more accurately, which one he wishes to be for you.

𝐁𝐚𝐫𝐝

✧ Begrudgingly, Bard watches you leave for the final patrol of your shift before laughing as he sees Tilda’s pout when she looks at you going as well.

✧ Looking up at him, she huffs even more; declaring that it isn’t fair he’s allowed to smile while you’re here and while you're away.

✧ He responds that you’re good company, but he can be happy without you - and that’s a good thing.

✧ Then Tilda looks up at him with a doubtful expression. Announcing that he looks extra happy, and his face turns a bit red like when Bain had that fever one time. Or when Sigrid looks at the neighbour's kid, except she shouldn’t tease her sister about that because it’s ‘feelings’.

✧ As pleased as Bard is that his children are taking his lessons to heart, he’s less pleased about her observations.

✧ Keeping walking, Bard tries to reassure her that that’s not what’s going on with him and you - but internally he’s truly thinking about it.

✧ About the fact you’re the first person to make him smile like that for the first time in… a while.

✧ The fact he always lets his kids go up to you because then he can talk to you, and the fact he talks to you even if the kids aren’t with him.

✧ It’s then Bard realises that, somehow, his children have worked out he likes you before he has.

𝐓𝐡𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐮𝐢𝐥

✧ Thranduil had barely noticed that the biweekly meetings had become less formal, and more about the two of you spending time together.

✧ He hadn’t noticed that most of the time you spent talking was just about the two of you, and no longer about his son.

✧ The thing that made him notice just how special these meetings became was when, while watching you leave, he could feel his smile.

✧ There was a warmth in him that wasn’t just from the wine, or the fireplace, and instead a warmth because he felt comfortable.

✧ Around you, he could be himself. Not much changed, of course, but something about being near you felt freeing, and as though he was understood.

✧ A feeling he had not felt in a long time, but a feeling he nonetheless welcomed - especially when it was you that warmed his heart.

𝐓𝐚𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐥

✧ Both of you had managed to get into the royal guard - you getting into the king’s guard, while she began to work with the prince.

✧ It was while she was taking a break, eating in one of the soldier’s halls, when Alinar (a fellow guard) had come up to her with a grin. “So, you and them, right?”

✧ Trying not to sigh, Tauriel gave a quick answer that no, she was not interested in the prince before Alinar began to laugh. Explaining he hadn’t been teasing about her and Legolas, but her and you.

✧ “Anyone with eyes can see you look at them like they’ve got a fourth elven ring, Tauriel. You’re really not subtle.”

✧ She continues to deny, swatting him away, although this time it’s more on principle. Not because she doesn’t like you.

✧ Because… she does look at you that way. You are magnificent, and wondrous, and she does want to be more than your friend.

✧ As you walk into the hall, you look over to the empty space besides her and immediately come over - and she wonders if she normally blushes this much when you smile at her.

𝐋𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐫

✧ Staring at the new poems he’s written, Lindir wonders to himself when his inspiration went from nature and the Valar to… love.

✧ He can still recognise the work as his own, the same metaphors and adoration for his subjects, but he never considered writing romance. Or writing about someone romantically - because he knows that all his works have a muse.

✧ Re-reading the lines over, he tries to imagine the different elves of Imladris fitting into this prose but none of them do.

✧ Deciding to leave it for later, Lindir takes the scrolls and keeps them with him - resolved in going to the library.

✧ On his way there, you cross paths with him - immediately smiling and asking how his day was.

✧ It’s there, looking ethereal against the backdrop of Imladris and roses, that Lindir realises the subject of his new writings.

✧ You are his new muse.

𝐇𝐚𝐥𝐝𝐢𝐫

✧ Haldir had felt a spark from the first moment you had interacted, your bow drawn - placed in front of your allies and standing as though it would need a thousand warriors to fell you.

✧ These feelings hadn’t even gone away as you let the arrow fly, only afterwards realising he’s not a threat and batting it out of the air.

✧ When you start to apologise he easily stops you, stating that it’s a relief that the Fellowship is travelling with a skilled warrior like yourself.

✧ Watching you go to the Lady Galadriel, he tries to untangle what he’s feeling for you. Is it simply admiration? Or is it something more?

✧ Seeing you alone and clearly wanting to move, he approaches you after the meeting - offering to show you around Lothlórien.

✧ It’s for a somewhat selfish motive, as he wants to try and realise what his feelings are.

✧ And, as his heart seems to lift when you look around and finally seem happy, he understands what his heart wants.

𝐄𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐝𝐚𝐧

✧ It’s the day after their birthday, finally in their first century, when Elrohir wakes his brother up by poking him.

✧ Elladan is still sleepy, but he’s aware enough to ask what his twin thinks he’s doing.

✧ “I want to know why you didn’t confess, brother dearest.”

✧ The sing-song voice is annoying, but Elladan still gives the question some thought. Confess? About what? Or confess to someone?

✧ Seeing his brother clearly isn’t going to get it, Elrohir lets out a sigh before directly name-dropping you. He’s instantly rewarded with seeing a heavy blush, before poorly spluttered denial about you simply being a friend.

✧ Looking directly into Elladan’s eyes, he speaks again. “Brother, I have watched the two of you dance around each other for almost a century. Sometimes I think I’m the one suffering because of your love. You could at least acknowledge your feelings to yourself.”

✧ He can still see the blush on Elladan’s face, obvious against his hair. But he can also see acceptance and realisation in his brother's eyes. The realisation that he wants you as something more than a friend.

✧ “Took you long enough.”

𝐄𝐥𝐫𝐨𝐡𝐢𝐫

✧ Elrohir was never sure if he believed in love at first sight. It was never something discussed among the elves, where feelings tended to develop over years of emotional connection. But it also seemed like a real thing to mortals - and not just in the tales of old.

✧ As a son of Elrond, where did that leave him? Would his feelings come after decades with a lover, or from a glance across the forest?

✧ And then you arrived.

✧ Instantly, something skipped in his heart - and he felt almost exactly what he’d always thought true love would feel like.

✧ But it wasn’t quite the blazing fire that some of the tomes described, more like a spark.

✧ Then he met you again, desperately trying to do the best you could to keep your city safe. And then again in Gondor’s war council, fearlessly pledging your allegiance to the new king and winning over others with honeyed words and promises.

✧ It was then when his heart was set on you.

✧ So, not quite love at first sight, it had taken a little more time for him to be completely sure.

✧ Yet he was still completely enamoured by you, at the latest, by at the end of your third meeting.

Hope you enjoyed! So sorry this is late, I had it completed and then forgot to post it - was just sitting in my drafts. Soo... yeah, I am very sorry about that. Thank you again for your support! Requests here.

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ESTJ

Gryffindor

Lawful Good

Aries Sun, Capricorn Moon, Leo Rising

𝑺𝑭𝑾🌿

・The first time you met him, he had gotten on your nerves so viciously, that you thought you'd have to leave the room

・Your first impression of him: self-righteous

・His first impression of you: combative

・And yet you two somehow always ended up near one another

・Scoffing, grunting and groaning whenever the other would speak

・But Éowyn saw through her brother, and with the help of Faramir, Éomer and you grew close.

・Faramir would ask Éomer if he wanted to go riding...and Éowyn would ask you the same thing

・But oh no! When you two spotted each other, you wanted to leave immediately.

・Too bad you were both already in the woods, and somehow the others had disappeared...

・One kindness led to another and overtime, you two became friends...then jealous of whoever held your attention and feelings were revealed...

・Now as a warrior, Éomer isn't verbally poetic or gentle at first; his manner is blunt.

・But once the courting began, he had decided that you were his and he was yours.

・Since then, Éomer has shown himself to be a passionate and devoted partner.

・And you also learnt that he is a devoted family man, willing to fight and die for his kin. This happened the first time you were hurt.

・You had been training with the other soldiers, telling them not to go easy on you.

・When an elbow had clocked you straight in the head.

・Watching from afar, Éomer had burst into a sprint, knocking the soldier away and scooping you up.

・He held you so delicately, so goddamn carefully that your heart ached.

"That will not happen again," he growled to the men around him. A clear threat; one everyone knew he would follow through with.

・When you're walking together, he'll always have his arm around your waist

・He likes to help you get ready in the morning, and then helps you get unready at night. It feels intimate to him.

・Looks at you from across the room and winks when you catch him.

・Before leaving, he'll kiss your forehead then your cheek and finally your lips.

"I will return, my love. Always."

𝑹𝒆𝒍𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒔𝒉𝒊𝒑 𝑻𝒓𝒐𝒑𝒆𝒔

Home Is Wherever You Are

Looks Like A Cinnamon Roll, Could Kill You (You) x Looks Like They Could Kill You, Is A Cinnamon Roll...But Could Still Kill You (Éomer)

"You Wear The Pants In This Relationship" (You) x "Oh I Wish, I Cannot Control You At All" (Éomer)

𝑹𝒐𝒎𝒂𝒏𝒕𝒊𝒄 𝑷𝒍𝒐𝒕 𝑻𝒓𝒐𝒑𝒆

Hidden Vulnerability

'Enemies' to Lovers

"Being With You Makes Me Better"

𝑻𝒉𝒆𝒎𝒆 𝑺𝒐𝒏𝒈

Harvest Moon by Cassandra Wilson

Shrike by Hozier

Sex On Fire by Kings Of Leon

𝑁𝑆𝐹𝑊 🔞

・You did not have sex until you were married...so your wedding night was utterly anticipated..

・However, it wasn't as if he did not touch you. There had been moments where you were straddling his lap, hands in his hair, grinding down.

・His hands roaming, feeling you through your clothes.

・Loves when you bite him

・It feels like a claim

・And when you do have your wedding night, he is a gentleman. Going at your pace, speaking soft things in your ear:

"I will love you for eternity."

"You are my whole world."

"I do not think I could live without you."

・With consent, he loves waking you up with his cock inside you, slowly pumping in and out.

・His passion is overwhelming in the best way. He cannot get you out of his mind. He's constantly thinking about the noises you make while he's fucking you.

・A big fan of overstimulation.

・He can go for round after round after round.

・Loves giving you praise:

“Such a pretty thing.”

“You’re doing so well.”

“Say it again – tell me who you belong to.”

ISTP

Hufflepuff

Lawful Good

Capricorn Sun, Cancer Moon, Virgo Rising

𝑺𝑭𝑾🌿

・Being married to Aragorn would include...being loved until death and then beyond.

・The love you share for each other is eternal. Unending. Unyielding.

・There is no such thing as disloyalty with Aragorn, not even the slightest worry of it. In his mind, he belongs utterly and completely to you.

・You have his heart.

・And when you first met, your heart was beating so fast you were worried he could hear it.

・But his heart was mirroring yours.

・Aragorn is a man who does not do things lightly. He always lives up to his promises.

・And when he says, "I love you," you know the truth of it in your bones.

・Being married to Aragorn also means you hold a lot of responsibility in your own hands.

・People look to both of you for guidance, advice and most of all, hope.

・You've also become close with those from the Fellowship as Aragorn invites them to Minas Tirith and Annúminas.

・Merry and Pippin have taken a particular like to you...with Pippin forming a slight crush...

・Legolas does like to visit more often. And Gimli is never far behind.

・With your husband as the first High King of the Reunited Kingdom of Gondor and Arnor, he is often doing very important Kingly duties.

・What you didn't expect, was that Aragorn wanted your opinion in these matters. And not just behind closed doors, but in the moment.

・You are present during the meetings, your ideas and solutions are listened to and revered. (Not just by Aragorn, but the people as well.) You are loved throughout the kingdoms.

・When it is night and you are alone with your husband, you've noticed that he hums. And sometimes, without realising it, he'll sing.

・It always puts a smile on your face.

・When it's time for bed, you've both started this tradition when you tell each other the highlight of the day.

・And even though he doesn't snore, Aragorn does have very vivid dreams & nightmares.

・Some nights you've found him staring out over the land. His arms leaning against the railing. His hair moving with the wind.

・It's those times that you get out of bed and wrap your arms around him. Helping the nightmares to shed from his mind.

𝑹𝒆𝒍𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒔𝒉𝒊𝒑 𝑻𝒓𝒐𝒑𝒆𝒔

Sun (Aragorn) x Moon (You)

The Navigator (Aragorn) and The North Star (You)

Places You Above Anything And Everyone Else. You Are His World.

"You Wear The Pants In This Relationship" (You) x "Oh I Wish, I Cannot Control You At All" (Aragorn)

𝑷𝒍𝒐𝒕 𝑻𝒓𝒐𝒑𝒆

Slow Burn to Unshakeable Devotion

𝑻𝒉𝒆𝒎𝒆 𝑺𝒐𝒏𝒈

Turning Page by Sleeping at Last

Scotland by the BBC Scottish Symphony Orchestra

Romantic Flight by John Powell

𝑁𝑆𝐹𝑊 🔞

・When it comes to your pleasure, Aragorn does so with complete and utter devotion.

・His hands touch you as if you're going to disappear. As if you are the only thing that matters.

・He is in constant awe of you. A creature such as yourself...he cannot fathom that you are his...all his.

・The first night you lay together as a married couple will always be burnt into your memory.

・Aragorn had gently laid you on the bed. Undressing you slowly, adoringly.

・When you were laid bare, his heart nearly stopped. With a nod of approval from you, Aragorn had brought you pleasure unlike anything you knew

・Because it was all about you, and your joining.

・His large hands cupped and soothed, holding you close as his cock pumped in and out of you.

・Forehead pressed against your own.

・Moans echoing from his now shared chamber.

・It took you a while to get used to the size and length of his cock. Though he isn't obscenely large, you can feel him inside you. Your always stuffed full. Cum leaking from your hole when he's finished.