#v. unknown

it’s not intentional --- mimikyu isn’t even sure HOW IT HAPPENS! one minute they’re running and free, and the next, they’re pretty sure they’re tackling a tree.

🌊 sentence starter 🐊 @onsilentwings

----- A FORTNIGHT THEY TRAVELLED. they rested a night with their kin in the iron hills before venturing forward. and what was this quest? few had ever gone past the iron hills, claiming stories of mutants and talking animals but a small group of dwarves, including the lionhearted prince, was curious to know what really lingers there. after erebor’s restoration, thorin wished to rid of the mountains of gold laying in the halls, so it wasn’t unusual for him to fund expeditions to find new allies. there was a new aura as they found themselves in unfamiliar territory. the relatively safe feeling of middle earth shredded into a feeling of unknowing. that was when they stumbled across what they assumed was scouts and they were quickly taken over. these scouts weren’t any orc or goblin or even elf. they were towering . . . things. they had the torsos of men but the undercarriage of horses. the group of dwarves had no power over these scouts. the horsemen carried the dwarves on their backs, bound with rope. they asked them questions in common speech, to fili and his companion’s surprise. they had no knowledge of middle earth let alone the lonely mountain.

ALL EYES ON HIM. fili stands before a council of all sorts. horsemen, goatmen, animals who looked at him with distrust. and men. the rumours were true, so they seem, even though they never mentions humans. “ i am fili, son of dis. “ he announces, the room eerily silent as they stare at him. “ i am nephew to king thorin of erebor. we are dwarves from the blue mountains, erebor, and the iron hills of middle earth. “ the stares are piercing holes into his skin. “ i am a prince of durin’s folk, heir to the throne of the lonely mountain. we heard tales of beasts wandering the lands north of the iron hills. though, you are not beasts . . . you are unlike anything we have in middle earth. “

            ❝  Boy, there’s something different about your mouth. ❞

A lot can change in three hundred odd years. Mara once finally freed of her contract to Njord, had dropped sailing entirely and had spent her well-earned freedom either fighting for others or tinkering. She’d gone through some rough patches over the years but had come through okay. (The Victorian era was a mess that she didn’t want to repeat anytime soon.) She’d moved back to New York City after the turn of the century, having lived and fought through America’s revolution, and the city had changed so much since then. 

Sadly the fact that it still liked to storm through most of autumn hadn’t changed, so Mara honestly hadn’t thought much of it as it poured rain as she bounded up the steps to her apartment, a coffee in one hand and a packaged antique sword from when she was young in the other. It looked so close to the one that Norrington had before his untimely death aboard the Flying Dutchman, that Mara’d not thought twice about buying it. (She’d long since come to terms with Norrington’s death but she still kept mementos of past friends where she could, a sentimentality she could afford now.) 

     living  shadows  haunt  these  halls  .     wherever  time  has  taken  him  now  ,   the  air  chills  with  the  unknown  ,   the  light  far  off  and  it’s  hard  ,   strange  to  those  eyes  of  his  to  adjust  .     he  is  a  creature  of  reason  ,   those  wanderlust  hearts  of  his  .     AND  YET  HE  KNOWS  WITHOUT  KNOWING  HE  IS  NOT  ALONE  .

        “ who’s there? i’m not       ”     what  is  this  FEELING ?     “ ... i’m not here to cause any harm. ”