This is either gonna be reaallyyy cuuuutee or really sad so uh I'll put a little note for the mood of each part before ya jump into the story. Hope you like!
Oh! And this continues on the current storyline for all characters :)
Thorin: (Note: a few grisly descriptions here, just a little warning)
Mood: A little tense, but sweet
The eagles have saved the Company from near-certain death and are now depositing each member on a high rock spire just beyond the last of the Misty Mountains. You have been drifting in and out of consciousness since the end of the battle and have fallen into a firmly awakened state of pain. Thorin has just been woken by Gandalf, and although he's fairly wounded, he stands with the help of a few of his comrades. For a long moment, he simply stares at you, at the bloody crevice where your left eye was only a short while ago as Gandalf waves his hand over your face. You are kneeling, hands propping your body up as the agony begins to dim with the wizard's aid. One he backs away, you haul yourself to your feet, wrenching open your remaining eye to see all your companions watching you worriedly. Thorin looks unexpectedly angry. You brace yourself for a 'you fool, I had that in the bag' speech- and apparently here it is:
"Did I not say you would be a burden?" he begins, and you wince, swallowing back hot tears.
"Did I not say you would be too weak?" You open your mouth for an angry retort, hurt quite a bit by his words, but then he steps forward, his intense expression melting into one of... apology?
"I have never been more wrong." He pulls you close to him, arms wrapping around you in a fierce hug, and the rest of the Company (minus Gandalf, who just stands there with his typical, all-knowing smile) cheers as you hug him back, surprised at his change of heart.
"I owe you my life," he commends you as he steps back and you smile softly in reply, hurt feelings forgotten. He turns around and reaches for Bilbo Baggins- who is, understandably, alarmed at the gesture -and also hugs your cousin, thanking him for all the help he's given the group thus far. You let out a shaky sigh, your heart pounding abnormally fast, and turn to look behind you, to behold the majesty of the Lonely Mountain on the near horizon.
His Current Impression Of You (HCIOY): Even after all the disdain he's shown toward you, you still saved him. He'll never forget your sacrifice as long as he lives. There's a sudden strength in his heart appearing just now, one that he's never felt before- but he decides to ignore it (for now) as hope for the success of the quest.
Your Current Impression Of Him (YCIOH): Yes, you saved him. You could pass that off to yourself as loyalty to your leader. But at the cost of your eye? With the fluttering in your heart after his apology and hug? Convincing yourself it was only loyalty just became a lot harder.
Fili: (Note: Remember that moment of dialogue? It's baaaaacckkk)
Mood: Pleasant, sweet
"I will readily admit I never learned to dance. Care to teach me?"
Fili grins at you and, not bothering to reply verbally, pulls you onto the 'dance floor', a spot made in this inn by moving a lot of tables and chairs into convenient corners. You, naturally, step on your own feet and Fili's a whole lot, twirl in the wrong many times, and overall start off pretty hopelessly. Slowly but surely, with Fili's guidance and one of his hands on your back and the other holding your own hand, you begin to find the rhythm and have fun with the dancing. All the while, as you spin and step, Fili's eyes are on you, and you don't feel uncomfortable at all but rather pleased by the attention. The faster dances wind down with the waning evening and when a slower song begins to play, you move to take a seat and rest- but Fili pulls you back with a gentle hand. You sway together in pleasant silence, your cheeks warm and smile shy, and as the song comes to an end, you can't help but wonder...
YCIOH: ...why did he keep you on the dance floor? Aren't slow songs usually for romantic dancing? Your heart skips and speeds up as you lay in bed this night, putting two and two together. Could it be?
HCIOY: Yes, he's in love with you, and has been since the troll incident, although he didn't realize it until about a month later. He's a bit nervous he went too far tonight, but also hopeful. He knows you're quite smart and will quickly understand his actions- but do you return his affections? This, he has yet to discover.
Kili:
Mood: A little dark due to the destruction all around, but otherwise pretty lighthearted
Esgaroth is burning, but Smaug is finally dead. Seems like a lose-win situation to you. Kili was hit in the back by falling debris while protecting you in the escape from the town, and to that injury you now attend. At the edge of the Long Lake, you have him sit on a large rock and take off his coat and shirt as you wet a strip of cloth in the water. Turning back, you blush at a shirtless Kili smiling cheekily at you, arms crossed patiently on his lap.
You mentally chase the pink off your cheeks and approach him, almost choking on just the air when he mutters, "Like what you see, Tirnethêl?" You mock-scoff and press the damp cloth to the bruises and slight burns on his upper back a bit too hard. He winces and you apologize, but he just gives a humored sigh and admits he probably deserved it for that comment. Your shoulders release their tension as the awkwardness in the air dissipates at his words, but you frown at one of the harshest burns and pull a vial of Athelais paste from a narrow pocket inside your long tunic.
"This burn is... it's bad." He nods, acknowledging that this next bit will probably hurt, and you begin to spread the paste as gently as you can on the red, blistering flesh. Instantly, he gasps and gives a grunt of pain, and you pause for a moment before laying your free hand over one of his. You begin to hum the tune that first convinced him to trust you as you continue to spread the Athelais over the injury. He doesn't even flinch this time and you're sure if you could see his expression, you'd see a small smile on his handsome (ahEM) face, Once you're done a half-minute later and need to wrap up the burns, you have to pull back the hand that rests upon Kili's and you do so a bit hesitantly. You finish up quickly and he tugs his shirt back on just as you're called away to tend to another wounded fellow.
HCIOY: It's a pity you had to go, he wants to talk to you about something important. He noticed your hesitation, your blush, your comforting hand- all these little things give him hope.
YCIOH: You're not great with expressing emotions of romance due to never having desired love before, an unfortunate fault to have when falling deeply for a certain dwarf prince...
Bilbo: (Note: The dialogue prompt is back for this one too yaaaaaay)
Mood: A little sad but sweet
Thorin hasn't been in his right mind as of late. he's been having the Company search the halls of the newly-reclaimed Erebor day and night to find the Arkenstone. You have a dangerous secret: you've found it, but don't trust the Dragon Sickness in Thorin's mind and so have kept it hidden in a secret pocket in your jacket for the last few days. You're very stressed about this and so go to Bilbo for help; he's the only one you think has any sense right now. He agrees with your concerns completely and swears to help you hide it, and then soon, the conversation turns and Bilbo expresses his homesickness. You sit beside him on a nearby stone bench and listen as he tells you all about his dear home of Bag End and the wonderful Shire and so on and so forth. He shows you an acorn he picked up in Beorn's fields and says in a soft voice how he's going to bring it all the way home and plant it in his garden, and that just about makes you want to cry.
You take a deep breath and ask, blinking away tears, "If we make it out of this madness alive, would you ever bring me to see the Shire?"
His reply is immediate and coupled with a warm smile, "Why, yes, of course." You lean your head on his shoulder and you two remain there for a long while in a whistful but companionable silence.
HCIOY: He's never really noticed before now how much he cares for you. He's always seen you as a very close friend, but now he's realizing that there is definitely something more in what he feels for you.
YCIOH: You're very close to Bilbo and have long-since recognized your feelings toward him, but you think that for now, mere friendship is simply the best path to tread.
Legolas:
Mood: Calm, pleasant
The flickering flames of the campfire before you would normally lull you into a half-asleep state, but the air tonight keeps you wide awake and on-edge. There's something about the moon that makes it seem fragile, weary. Legolas, who sits beside you now, can clearly sense it too. Getting any sleep tonight seems to be out of the question for either of you.
"Legolas?"
"Yes, Firiel?"
"Do you fear the future?" He considers this for a long moment.
"It is not the future of the world nor of myself that worries me, Firiel. It is that which lies ahead for you that I feel the most concern for." You nod, contemplating his words as your gaze calmly rakes the trees around you. They appear much taller than they did in daylight, seeming almost menacing to you, and you inch a little closer to Legolas as you reply, your voice soft, "There are a few things that keep me going, you know." He tilts his head and you can feel his calm gaze upon you, but your eyes remain fixed on the fire.
"One of them is the knowledge that as the Ringbearer, if I do not succeed, it is unlikely our world will prevail over Sauron's wickedness."
"It is a heavy burden." You smile just a little.
"Yes, it is. But it is my duty and I will not forsake it." You take a deep breath, the scent of burning maple wood filling your nose, and release it, letting it turn to steam in the brisk air.
"Another thing is you." A blush creeps onto your cheeks, but you make no correction to your words and instead continue, "And then, of course, there's Frodo, and Sam and Merry and Pippin, and Aragorn, and Gimli and Boromir, and Gandalf. Each and every one of them gives me hope and courage with their support-"
"-especially me?" You give a breathy chuckle before acknowledging his teasing with a "Yes, especially you" and a glance to see his reaction- that of which is a satisfied smile as he fiddles absentmindedly with a twig.
"What keeps me the most determined, though, are my memories of the Shire. The hills over the river, the fields of pumpkins and squash and pipeweed every Autumn, the comforts of Bag End- my home, that is -and the peace, oh, the peace of it all." A wistful sigh escapes your lips.
"Have you ever tasted apple cider so hot it burned your tongue ever-so-pleasantly under the lights of floating lanterns of every shape and color? Have you ever seen Gandalf's fireworks over the daisies and sunflowers of Hamfast Gamgee's garden, all bangs and crackles of sunsets and morning glories and ivy? Have you ever danced to the fiddle and the pipes and the lute while your whole world comes together in merriment?" You can't help but smile at your fond memories of the Shire as you retell them to Legolas, who listens with a smile only slightly smaller than your own.
"Oh, it really is something special, mellon." Your elven friend's hand gently comes to rest over your own (from where it is settled on the ground between you two) and you gaze into the fire once more, the uncertain feeling of the night fading into a gentler air.
HCIOY: The firelight in your eyes is so lovely, as is the feeling of your hand beneath his- oh, wait. This has got to be love. How odd that he's never realized it before now.
YCIOH: The night doesn't seem all that bad anymore, with him beside you and his hand on yours- oh, wait. This has got to be love. How odd that you've never realized it before now.
Thranduil:
Mood: Stressful at first, then sweet
You are stressed. Very stressed. The comings and goings of visitors to Eryn Galen has halted to a record minimum as of late due to Thranduil ordering the gates closed indefinitely due to some violent exterior threat, but mysteriously, the amount of responsibilities and paperwork you have to deal with has skyrocketed. It's no overstatement that you have been completely swamped with your duties for the last two weeks, and you are rapidly losing steam. Thranduil has apparently noticed, for this morning when you arrive to meet with him first thing (as always in your schedule), he has shed his royal robes and stands waiting for you right by the door. You reach for your bag of papers to review today, choosing to ignore the difference in his appearance for now, but he stops you with a gentle hand.
"But my lord-"
"Silevel, you are far too stressed. Come, spar with me."
A smile creeps onto your face as Thranduil tosses you a dulled blade and squares up at the far edge of the circular podium below his throne. He's always known that you love to spar with him. He's the only one who can beat you in a fight in all this forest realm. You twirl the blade, finding its balance, then bow cordially as Thranduil does the same. And so it begins: you go on the offense, the defense, the offense once more, and the morning hours fade away as you feel the weight in your mind lift and fade into recent memory.
HCIOY: He's so very glad to see you smile as you do now, especially after these two long weeks of endless, dismal frowning. He loves that smile. And he loves you. Secretly, of course- though perhaps not privately for all that much longer. He has begun to find hope for your potentially-returned affections toward him as of late, and although he is patient, he's not always willing to remain so for too long!
YCIOH: Oh, how he always knows how to bring you out of a funk and cheer you up, and oh, how you love him for it. Secretly, of course. Although... you've been having a tougher time concealing your feelings as of late, and you're simultaneously anxious and enthused because you can't tell if he's starting to notice or not.
Lindir: (Author's warning: apostrophe overload ahead)
Translations: 'meldanyandil' = my dear friend
Mood: Veeery sweeeeeet
It's not an unusual happenstance for you to 'just poke into the library' and 'happen upon Lindir', who every time seems to have 'just the perfect book or two for you'. Today's 'chance' encounter is no different. You seat yourself beside your friend, at the same window seat as always, and look over the two selections he's brought for you today. One is a rather-dusty elven history tome and the other a well-loved copy of The Tale of Tinúviel, otherwise known as the story of Beren and Lúthien.
You smile fondly at Lindir and flip open the second book, remarking sweetly, "You always know just what I would love to read, meldanyandil," not noticing the wide smile and flushed cheeks your words give him.
HCIOY: You really are so special to hin. He'd even go so far to say (though not out loud) that he has fallen in love with you. Still, he is not a very bold elf, and so struggles with the means to convey his feelings. Perhaps by reading of Beren and Lúthien (whose tale is very much centered around love), you will gain a hint to the affection he's currently at a loss to communicate.
YCIOH: To bond firmly over books is to find your soulmate, your father once remarked to you, and as you read the epic of Tinúviel beside Lindir, you realize that perhaps he was right.
Elrond:
Mood: Funny, pleasant
You are rather surprised to learn that, despite all his noble knowledge of language and history and the future, Elrond, Lord of Imladris, has never learned how to fish. And you, of course, being the upstanding dwarf you are, certainly won't stand for it! The first morning you get the chance, you manage to somehow coax Elrond down to the riverbanks by the main port with no regal accompaniment aside from yourself, two fishing poles, and a bucket of bait. At first, he's pretty hopeless at the whole affair and loses four fish immediately after they bite, but by midday, you've coached him enough for him to catch two trout all by himself.
"And here's the fun bit," you say, eyes gleaming mischievously, and Elrond raises a delicate eyebrow in mild worry. The 'fun bit' you speak of is gutting the fish- an activity you don't mind at all but Elrond clearly does.
By the time you've finished, having three expertly dissected salmon while your lordly elven friend only has one of his trout suitably cut up, you're nearly breathless with laughter at his many amusing mistakes. It's all in good fun, though, and once you've started a small campfire to cook the fish on for a late dinner (lunch), Elrond too begins to chuckle at his mishaps as he washes his hands free of 'trout slime' (as he's decided to call it) in the river. Soon enough, you're settled by the fire, side by side as you sup on the excellently-cooked fish- courtesy of, unsurprisingly, you.
HCIOY: You sure are quite the character, and he only thinks that in the best way possible. He doesn't mind you laughing at him, no, not at all, if it means he gets to see your wonderful smile (yes it's cheesy but it's true)
YCIOH: He's really a good sport to put up with you like this for such a while, and hey, his gutting wasn't too awful. You'll have to have a few more sessions of this teaching for him to fully get it, however- and, you hope, maybe in that time he'll take a closer liking to you.
Gimli:
Mood: Pleasant
Boromir is in a rather bad mood today, and unfortunately, he seems to think the answer to his grievances is to take them out on the rest of the Fellowship, especially you and Gimli. It's getting well into the afternoon when you all finally decide to set up camp and Boromir heads off to gather firewood.
You, assisting Gimli to set up sleeping shelters for the night, grumble to him sarcastically:
"May the wood he returns with be drier than his humor this day, or I swear to the Valar-"
and Gimli busts out laughing. Soon enough, so do you, and your annoyance at Boromir fades to the back of your mind as you and your dwarven friend strike up a conversation on his impressive skill with a battleaxe. The discussion ends up swerving until you are listening well to a lengthy but fascinating lecture on the specifics of dwarven weaponsmithing- given by Gimli, of course -as the sun sinks to the horizon and most of the Fellowship (unknown to either of you) watch subtly with knowing smiles.
HCIOY: Any time spent with you is good to him, and so he's been dragging out his descriptions of forges and hauberks as much as he can to keep you interested. It's working, he can see, but the best part is that you seem genuinely fascinated by the subject matter and aren't at all losing attention. You're really listening, and that means the world to him.
YCIOH: He's an excellent storyteller, you've discovered, and for some reason that singular quality is suddenly very endearing to you. How peculiar...
Merry:
Mood: Fun, pleasant
For over two hours now, as you and the rest of the Fellowship of the Ring hike through a ridiculously dense forest, Merry has been regaling you with tales of his and Pippin's past mischiefs- and you're loving it. Stealing golden potatoes (or if you're Samwise Gamgee, 'taters') and collard greens and all other sorts of crops from a certain Farmer Maggot? Good for a laugh! Setting off a monstrous dragon firework in the middle of Bilbo Baggins' one-hundred-and-eleventh birthday party? What fun! Merry goes on and on, apparently fueled by your continuous enthusiasm to listen, and the trek through these thick woods seems less and less tedious and wearisome with each story he tells.
HCIOY: You are laughing at all the right places, gasping at others, and altogether are a perfect audience of one. Now, if only telling you about his growing feelings for you was as easy as relating Lobelia Sackville-Baggins' expression when she found her drawers flying like a flag above the town hall (and, in fact, she deserved it for calling Pippin a 'no-good rapscallion who does his family shame'. Such a prick, she is...)
YCIOH: What a hobbit that Meriadoc Brandybuck is! You find yourself wishing that you had been a part of these playful adventures, and even more so that you'll be able to lead a few in the future.
Pippin:
Mood: A little angsty but still sweet
You sit beside Pippin on the edge of his bed in the room lent to him by your father. Your feet easily reach the floor. His do not, to your mild amusement. This moment is a rare, prohibited one, stolen in a time of immense hustle and bustle around the palace.
"Lothuial, are you ever afraid?" You offer your friend a soft smile, trying to be reassuring.
"Why, all the time, Pippin." He relaxes, glad not to be alone in the feeling.
"What do you think will happen to us... out there?" You sigh and determine to speak your mind, even if it's not the gentlest.
"Any matter of things, good and bad and everything in between. We might see no bloodshed at all. Or we might become casualties of this frightful war." A moment of silence passes, the air humming with anxiety.
After just long enough for the quiet to remain comfortable, Pippin breaks it, saying softly, "We should stay together, Lothuial. During whatever battles come to us. That way, we'll be able to look after each other." You nod and share a tender smile with your hobbit friend.
"That's a splendid idea, Pip. I'll take care of you."
"And I'll take care of you, Lottie."
"Lottie?" You tilt your head, considering the new nickname, as Pippin's face flushes and he worries that he's made a mistake- but then you smile once more and add: "I rather like that." And then you are found by your father's most trusted guard and are made to leave Pippin with only a small, warm smile and a wave in parting. Surely, Denethor II will give you hell for this interaction with your hobbit friend later, but you don't really care, because the warmth that has filled your heart after your little chat is plenty enough reason to see him again and continue to disobey your father.
YCIOH: He's got your back and you've got his: an important connection to have in this unstable world. You are thankful for his friendship, of course, but there's something else there- something you don't fully realize you desire from him, something he is very willing to give.
HCIOY: He's afraid. Afraid of finding out you've been betrothed like so many noble ladies of your age, afraid of confessing his love for you at the wrong time, afraid of your father and his grief-warped mind- but most of all, he's afraid of losing you to the unavoidable war swiftly on its way.
Sam:
Mood: 100% adorable
"Sam?"
"Are you alright, Nellie?" Your voice, and then Sam's, echo eerily in the darkness of the cave you've taken shelter in for the night. The affectionate nickname makes you smile a little as you listen for a beat to the steady breathing of a well-asleep Frodo to your left.
"Yes, Sam, I'm only a little cold. Do you suppose-" Before you've even got the question all the way out, you can feel two thin blankets thrown on top of your own.
"I'm sorry they're not any warmer, but it's all we've got." You can feel your cheeks flush, but you ignore the butterflies and lean to your right a lot, barely keeping balanced on a single hip.
"Sam, that's not what I-" With a soft gasp, you cut yourself off as you tilt just a bit too far and roll nearly on top of the hobbit beside you. "Ah! I'm sorry, I- I didn't mean to-"
"Oh, well, you see, I'm rather cold too."
You offer a nervous smile into the night, although he can't see it, and lean your head against his side, curling up into the warmth of his body as he tugs the ragged blankets over both of you to try and trap some heat. You can hear his heartbeat. It's going very fast. You pretend it's no big deal when you wrap an arm around him and then he does the same to you, but in reality, you're just as nervous and excited about this as he apparently is. Your eyes flutter closed as your breathing syncs for a few seconds with his.
"Goodnight, Nellie."
"Goodnight, Sam."
YCIOH: 'Nellie' is the endearing nickname Sam (and only Sam) has been calling you for ages, but just more recently, you've begun to hear a more affectionate tone behind the word and it's been setting your heart aflutter. Ah, love, you wonder silently as you drift into sleep, what a curiously wonderful thing...
HCIOY: You've fallen asleep near him before- on his shoulder, on his chest, beside him -but this is the first time you've really snuggled up to him, and it's making his heart go a mile a minute. He has a strong urge to kiss the top of your head, but he holds back from fear of ruining the moment.
Frodo:
Mood: A little sad but quite sweet
Frodo has seemed oddly distant today, and so when you get the chance to speak with him alone while eating a lovely stew for supper (courtesy of Aragorn), you take it and inquire gently if he's feeling alright. He sighs, thinks for a moment or two, then admits he's come to realize that sooner than later, he'll have to continue on his treacherous journey alone. You nearly choke on your soup. Your brother offers a questioning look from across the campfire, but you ignore him.
"Frodo... You may say that, and while I don't entirely doubt it, I am certain there are two of us with you now who are a little too stubborn and care about you too much to allow you to do so." You offer him a soft smile as his gaze alternates between you and Samwise for a few moments.
He is silent then as he turns to stare into the fire, deep in thought. A good three minutes pass before he finally meets your patient expression with a look of sad appreciation and responds quietly, "I'm so glad you and Sam are with me, Osbiel, I really am." You wrap an arm around Frodo's shoulders and give him a side hug along with another gentle smile, no more words needing to be said as the bond between you two continues to grow oh-so-much just in that moment.
HCIOY: He trusts you immensely and knows you'll fight for him until your dying breath, and not just because he holds the fate of Middle Earth in the Ring, but because he's simply himself. And because of that, he's pretty sure he's falling deeply in love with you.
YCIOH: You meant what you said, one thousand percent. You'll be with Frodo every step of the way, no matter what, you've never considered otherwise- and lately, you've been picturing yourself still by his side even after Sauron is (presumably) defeated, making a home in the Shire, growing old together in Bag End.
Faramir:
Mood: Sad
Denethor II's grief has gone too far. If he isn't careful, he'll surely lose not only Boromir but his remaining son as well. You sprint toward the gates at the lower end of Minas Tirith, muttering plenty of unsavory things about the reigning Steward of Gondor as you try to find Faramir before it's too late. You're just in time- he's about to remount his war steed after the dismal parade of farewell through the city when he turns to greet you with a grim expression.
"Faramir, this is madness! To ride to Osgiliath is to ride to certain death, you know this!" He remains silent and stiff, but you can read the pain in his gaze that he's trying to conceal. "You know this, and yet you obey your father's radical orders." Your tone conveys your disbelief, adding to the tension in the air. "Grief for your brother has driven him to false rationalities and painful words that strike out only to hide his own hurt, He still loves you, Faramir, he-"
And that is the moment he crumbles. He reaches for you, eyes slamming shut and breath suddenly shaky, and you wrap your arms around him in a tight hug and don't let go for a long few minutes. Once he finally collects himself, he steps back only a little and rests his forehead against yours. You can see in his eyes that although he knows all you said is true, he has a duty to the people of Gondor to protect them and he will not stray from that position now. You sigh sadly and your gaze drops to the ground. Faramir brushes his lips ever so slightly over the top of your head and promises in a soft voice that he will come back- for you, not just for his father, not just for his people, but chiefly for you.
"Stay safe, Éalryth, and I will return to you with a promise, should your heart be willing." And then he mounts his horse again and rides out the grand front gates of Minas Tirith with a solemn wave to you, a terrible feeling gnawing at your heart.
HCIOY: He's falling for you, he's sure of it, and as he rides to the orc-overrun river fortress, he's tense with the fear of never being able to return to you and truly admit his feelings.
YCIOH: You're pretty sure he just spoke to you of something in the realm of love, and you feel quite awful watching him ride away having left you with such uncertainty and a heart increasingly yearning for him.
Boromir:
Mood: Tense for a bit but then finally you mutually end the antagonism between you two
Surrounded by orcs with no escape in sight as the enemy grows and grows, fighting furiously despite hope of survival quickly fading: not how you thought you'd find Boromir when you went looking for him after a suspiciously-long venture to gather firewood, but here you now are. With a formidable battle cry, you leap into the fray, swinging your weapon of choice with such ferocity that many orcs stumble back to avoid confronting you. You hear a sharp thunk and whirl about to see Boromir not two feet to your left, a black-feathered arrow protruding from his chest. Your heart gives an unexpected lurch and you charge toward the Uruk-hai that shot your (begrudging) ally, only to receive a similar arrow to your left arm a moment later. You give a growl of pain but don't slow at all, the Uruk-hai grimacing in surprise right before you lop its head clean off- but you don't see the orc rushing you from behind and suddenly there is a crude blade sticking through your side. You look down and see it precisely when the wave of pain hits. The voice of Boromir gives a shout. You dispose of your attacker, then sink to your knees. You see his shocked and worried expression as he runs to aide you just before you fall unconscious from the agony.
Next thing you know, there's warmth and softness and pale light on your closed eyes, and when you carefully open them, you realize you aren't in the woods by the Argonath anymore. You can hear birds chirping merrily, a gentle breeze tousling leaves, and... humming? You move to sit up, wincing at the sharp jolt it sends through your left forearm and lower right chest (where you were wounded by the orcish arrow and blade, each respectively), and startle at the source of the humming- Boromir, standing in the doorway of this unfamiliar room and staring peculiarly at you as he murmurs a vaguely familiar tune.
"Where are we?" Your interruption of his melody doesn't seem to bother him, but he stops humming and moves to sit on a stool beside the unbelievably-comfortable bed you just woke up in.
"Rivendell," he answers, without even a whiff of disdain in his voice, something that pleasantly startles you.
"Why?"
"So the elves could heal you- and I." He pulls down the top of his tunic to reveal the bandages that wrap around his chest, similar to yours, and you feel yourself almost utter a strong curse in Khuzdul aloud in surprise at the flutter your heart gives when he shows you his injury. You frown and glance out the window, still confused and worried about a few things.
"What of Frodo-"
"He was not harmed and still carries the Ring." The tension that has suddenly appeared in his voice makes you want to quickly move on, and so you do:
"Merry? Pippin? I saw you protecting them..." He shakes his head and you think you catch a glimpse of uncharacteristic shame in his eyes.
"Taken. Aragorn, Gimli, and Legolas follow them now."
"And Samwise?"
"Gone with Frodo further toward Mordor." You let out a relieved breath. At least no one is dead- you're not sure you could bear another Gandalf experience so soon after the original.
"How did we arrive here?" Is that- no, it can't possibly be, Boromir would never dare to blush in front of you, it must be a trick of the light. His reply is so quiet at first you have no idea what he said, and the second time he talks too fast so you again don't catch it, and just as you're about to ask once more, Lord Elrond's adviser, Lindir, walks in with a serene smile and you ask him instead.
"The lord Boromir carried you most of the journey, Miss Levim." Your jaw drops, but you quickly shut it and turn your gaze back to the Steward's son in question, that of whom seems suddenly interested in the sights out the window facing away from you.
"Thank you." He looks back, offering a fleeting smile. "You- you saved my life. It was only right I returned the favor-"
"Still a stubborn fool, I see."
"Claims the equally-disagreeable enigma."
Lindir looks pale, as if he's worried he'll have to break up a tussle- but you and Boromir merely smirk at each other and you offer him a handshake.
"I do believe we should begin again," you declare and he nods, taking your hand but kissing the back of it rather than shaking it as you expected.
"A pleasure to meet you under better circumstances, my lady."
"And likewise to you, m'lord."
(Lindir then visibly relaxes by about two hundred percent and nods to the both of you in farewell before hurrying away, confused but ready to ship at the same time.)
HCIOY: You're not nearly as bad as he thought- in fact, now that relations have greatly improved between the two of you, he's allowing himself to (finally) acknowledge how ruggedly attractive you are, beard and all. (yes, all dwarves have beards according to Tolkien so I'm sticking with it)
YCIOH: He's not nearly as bad as you thought- getting off on the right foot rather than the wrong certainly makes a difference.
Aragorn:
Cue the lengthy discussion on politics in allied kingdoms, deliberated entirely in Sindarin.
No, no, just kidding- here's what really happens:
Mood: Just a truly lovely bonding moment
You're staying the eve with your remaining companions in the Fellowship in Rohan as guests of the king, who has only recently been released from Saruman's wicked control by Gandalf. You are surveying the small settlement around the main fortress of Edoras, legs hanging precariously off the great stone base, when a familiar figure sits down beside you with a simple sigh. You and Aragorn sit in companionable silence for a long while as the sun makes its descent behind the mountains on the horizon, your thoughts soft and quite unfocused. It is through this chain of abstract connections that you find yourself spontaneously bursting out something about family and how you wish to start one someday. Unlike most people, who would raise a confused and put-off eyebrow at you, Aragorn just smiles.
"I wish for children as well, though only once the darkness of this time has passed." His tone is gentle, calm, but there's something there that's also nervous.
You test the waters of the conversation by asking, "How many children would you desire?" He doesn't reply for a long moment and your cheeks flush as you quickly add an apology- you didn't mean to probe- but then he chuckles.
"As many as the lady bearing them cared for."
Your bashful smile becomes amused and you say wryly, tilting your head a bit more towards him, "If only more men held the same view, this world would be a lovelier place for those who carry babes." He glances skyward; you share a small smile that sends a warmth again to your cheeks.
"Yes," you say again, taking a slow deep breath, "the world would certainly be a lovelier place if more people thought as you do, Aragorn." He lays a gentle hand on your shoulder for just a moment as the sun finally fades behind the mountains.
"I suppose it would be, Aewenian, I suppose it would be."
HCIOY: He's not at all surprised by your hope to start a family one day, but he is a little astonished at how you kind of just blurted it out. To him, of all people. Could it mean something? Even if you yourself don't realize it yet?
YCIOH: Your thoughts begin to wander once more, and it's not long before you begin to consider what an excellent father Aragorn would be...
Bard:
Mood: Dark and depressing... sorry, but I swear that eventually, this story will brighten up.
You just can't stand it anymore! The verbal abuse, the sneers, the literal shit thrown at you- it's just so painful. Esgaroth has always been your home, but you've decided that it will be so no longer. It almost hurts you more to leave behind Bard and his children, but you're certain that if you don't depart, the misguided aggression will turn toward them as well, and that would be much worse for you to see than having to endure it yourself. And so you're now sitting by the empty fireplace, Bard opposite to you in another chair and wearing a despondent look as he listens to you explain why you've got to go- permanently. Understandably, he has all sorts of questions, but you have long-considered answers to all of them and he quickly sees that there is no changing your mind.
Your plan is to make your way to Mirkwood and speak with the wood-elves, pay them what you can afford to lend you a guide through their lands, then make your way over the perilous Misty Mountains until you get to Rivendell. From there, if they will grant you refuge, you will stay, but if not, you'll simply go further west until you find somewhere that will. Bard seems rather shocked at the realization that, after all his life knowing and caring for you and seeing you practically every day, you'll just be gone. You've been holding back tears and keeping up a brave facade the last few weeks of abuse, and as he now pulls you close into his arms, it all comes pouring out and you sob silently into his shoulder. It takes you a while to collect yourself, and once you do, he steps back a little but keeps your hands in his as though he really doesn't want to let you go (Spoiler: He really doesn't want to let you go). He says that if he didn't have his kids to care for, he would come with you in a heartbeat, and swears that he'll come and find you, wherever you are in the West, once they've all grown up and can make the journey safely. You smile sadly and lean into another hug as you reply that you're certain he'll hold to his promise.
Swallowing back more tears, you add quietly, "And when you do- find me again, that is -I'll need to tell you something." He starts to ask 'why not now', but you just shake your head and he stops, understanding that now isn't the time.
"I will miss you dearly, Janne." You give a melancholy sigh and a rueful smile.
"As will I, Bard."
"Would you wish to say goodbye to Tilda, Bain, and Sigrid?" You consider this for a moment and nod.
"It will be best if I explain to them why I must leave in person." And so he calls in his children, who adore you oh-so-much, and you tell them what you've decided is best and why. They're crushed, but as you expected, Sigrid and Bain hold out well when bidding you goodbye, whereas Tilda bursts into tears, buries her face into the folds of your shirt, and laments something about 'mother' and 'all wrong'. One last tight farewell hug from all three of the young ones at the same time and then you and Bard head out to his barge, for he's agreed to bring you to the far shore, where your journey to relocate will begin.
HCIOY: He's greatly saddened by your decision, although he can tell it's a big relief to you to finally leave behind all the misled hatred. As he steers the barge through the mist, watching you seated at the prow ahead, a growing feeling gnaws at him to reconsider what he thinks of you- but he ignores it and simply steers, silent.
YCIOH: You love him. You have for the longest time. Now, you have a growing feeling you'll never get to fess up, but you brush aside these thoughts with an aching heart.
Haldir:
Mood: A pleasant outing for all
Elkback riding: literally horseback riding but with an elk as your steed instead of a horse
The postponement is over! Today is finally the day of the elkback excursion promised to you by Haldir over a month ago, and although it's very belated, you are very excited. You hurry through breakfast, ignoring the amused, knowing smiles from your parents, and are soon standing by the front gates to the city, waiting impatiently for Haldir. Once he shows up, apologetic for his delay although he's only a few minutes late, you give him a sudden hug and ask what the plan is. It takes him a second or two to respond, he's so pleasantly surprised by the hug, but once he lays out what he thinks would be a good path, you're itching to go and quickly agree. Riding through the forest of your homeland has always been a beloved pastime of yours; the trees, the fresh air, the chirping and scurrying and scuffling of the animal inhabitants all around, and when it rains, you just adore the sounds of the drops hitting the leaves above. Ah, nature...
There's this one bit of the forest that has been your favorite to ride through ever since you happened upon it as a young elleth, a riverbank with sparse undergrowth and trees with a thin canopy which lies just within the lands your parents rule over; it is this trail you are planning to follow (more or less) today. As you go along, you and Haldir strike up a lively conversation. There's bits of humor, of teasing, of philosophy, and even- to Haldir's thrill -a bit of flirting, initiated entirely by you.
HCIOY: He loves you, and this flirting has given him an immense wave of hope that maybe the achingly-long period of wait-and-see is finally coming to an end. Although, if it is, that brings a whole new level of anxiety to the plate. How will you realize you feel about him-will you come to love him in return? Or will you crush his heart and will all this time of patience be for naught?
YCIOH: Why not flirt a bit? Your parents have been very obvious about their support for Haldir being more than your friend someday, there's a newfound tremor in your heart whenever you see him, and you have begun to observe things he does to keep your attention that you never noticed before; for these reasons and more, you've decided it's about time you test the waters. How does he really feel toward you?
Éomer:
Mood: Pleasant
'Great minds think alike', as the saying goes, that of which comes to mind when you track down Éomer as he, in turn, is looking for you. You both know it's high time you discussed how you are getting home to the Shire- and by now, you've done some deep considering of your circumstances and have come to this conclusion: you don't particularly want to go. You relay your drastic change of heart to Éomer as you help him dismantle a tented shelter this morning and his reaction is at first one of surprise, understandably, and then a moment of relief before the inevitable question is asked:
"Why has your mind changed?"
"Many reasons, really," you reply calmly as you fold the tarp into a neat diamond, having thought this over well, "and I'm certain you desire to know, so here they are. Firstly, the Shire will do just fine without me, and I will do- and currently am doing -fine without the Shire. Secondly, my brother Samwise disappeared a little more than a month ago, along with three other hobbits I know well, and I would like to find out where they've gotten to if I can. And lastly, I quite enjoy traveling with you and the Riders. Life is never dull as it often is in the Shire, and I've grown to appreciate this way of life."
Éomer is quiet for a few moments as you strap the bundle-that-was-recently-a-shelter to a tawny mare's saddle, the horse snorting and pawing the ground at the extra weight.
A small smirk spreads across his face and he asks, half-joking and half-serious, "You are still willing to put up with Malkus and his nonsense?"
You nod with a rueful smile. "Indeed, I am."
He extends his hand to you and you give it a firm shake. "Then I formally welcome you into the ranks of the Riders of Rohan," Éomer declares with a polite bow, one which you promptly return while replying with words of thanks and a vow to uphold the honor of being a Rider wherever you may go.
HCIOY: He's been growing closer to you over this past week and truly would be sorry to see you go. He has a faint feeling that in some way, someday soon, he'll come to hope for your future to weave into his for the better, he just hasn't realized that dream yet.
YCIOH: You're very glad he's formally accepted you into the Riders and that he seems pleased by your decision to stay. You can't help but wonder, though, at the moment of relief that crossed his face when you first spoke of your decision...
Bofur:
Mood: Very sweet
Another night of terrors in your mind has woken you in a frightened state with the dawn. As you sit on the dew-damp grass, leaning against the stump of a long-felled tree and taking a few minutes to collect yourself, you hear someone else yawning and shifting about in his bedroll.
A second or two of silence, then the voice of Bofur calls quietly, "Dhamir?"
"I'm over here, Bofur," you reply, soft as to not wake the rest of your companions but with enough volume for him to hear, and before long, Bofur appears and sits down next to you, his hat on a bit crooked.
"Another bad dream?" he guesses, frowning with concern, and you sigh, pulling your legs up to your chest against the pre-dawn chill. It's sweet that after only a single week of knowing each other, he can read your mood well, but you fear that too soon he'll realize your very strong, very sudden feelings for him and step back from this friendship due to them.
"Unfortunately, yes," you admit nonetheless, absentmindedly reaching up with one hand to nudge his hat in place.
He offers a sympathetic smile and a slightly-awkward pat on the shoulder, as usual when he finds you've had a nightmare, but then he rocks side to side for a moment and asks if maybe a story will cheer you up. Of course, you say yes, and he begins with this:
"In the Far East, there stood a mountain. Not just any mountain, no, this one was so grand and magnificent, dwarves of long ago built great halls within it, and those halls came to be known as Erebor." As always when Bofur tells a story (he's excellent at it), you're invested already by the beginning.
"But then?" He grins, knowing he's got you hooked. "But then one day, a wicked worm came down from the North and took it all away-" You frown, wondering why he thinks this will cheer you up, but then he continues, "-but that isn't what this tale is about. This story is what happens after the brave Company of Thorin Oakenshield reclaims their great halls within the grand mountain," and you understand.
Bofur goes on to describe the wealth of the realm, shared with all the good peoples of the world, the grandeur of the king, so noble and just, the happy dwarves rebuilding their kingdom in the halls, singing once more the songs of your people with pride. He relates how Bilbo Baggins returns to his home in the Shire with many a good story to tell and golden rewards aplenty, how Thorin finally finds a queen to love and rule justly by his side, how once he grows too old, he will pass the throne to Fili, who will be a fantastic successor.
"Balin will pursue his passion of learning the history of our people. Bombur will cook and bake and eat to his heart's delight. Oin will begin his well-earned retirement."
"And what of us? Bofur cocks his head at the question and considers it thoroughly before replying almost bashfully, "Well, I suppose you and I will be building a home in Erebor along with the others."
"Together?" He glances away and you can see that under his whiskers, he's blushing. You're sure your cheeks are just as pink as you await his answer with bated breath. "If that's what you'd like." His reply is so quiet you almost don't hear it, but when you do, you smile warmly at him and readjust his hat from where it has again fallen crooked.
"I'd like that very much." You share a tender smile before Nori calls you over to help sort out breakfast at the same time as Gloin shouts for Bofur to count the ponies and you have to bade each other a quick but warm good morning.
HCIOY: Yeah, he totally loves you. You are clearly his One.
YCIOH: Yeah, you totally love him. He is clearly your One.
Up next: Your Favorite Insult