SHE KNOWS SHE MAY BE SEEING ARAGORN FOR THE LAST TIME RIGHT NOW

Arwen falls in love when she is just ten years old, with the gardens of her father’s home. She likes the smells and the flowers and brushing her hand against the petals’ silk-soft flesh.

But autumn comes to Rivendell and with it, the gardens wilt, and the flowers fall dead at her feet until she cries under the withering trees.

Galad,” her mother says, wiping the tears from Arwen’s cheeks like they pain her. “Why are you sad?”

“I do not want them to die,” Arwen says, cradling what is left of her first love; half-hearted blooms crumbling in her hands.

“Ah,” Celebrian hums, a melodic sympathy. “What a tragedy it is, to love what does not last. How fortunate that you and I will live forever.”

But what good is living, Arwen thinks, if it causes this much pain? 

Her brothers bring her yellow flowers from Lothlórien, which do not die even as they rest on her window sill for many years, but it is not the same. She knows now, what loss tastes like, and so she is not the same, either.

Arwen falls in love again when she is two hundred, in the midst of adolescence, heart overflowing with a song she cannot name. She is in Lórien with her mother and her mother’s mother, and her grandmother’s guard Eregwen.

Eregwen is silver-haired with stern eyes that feel like frost on Arwen’s skin whenever they catch her. She is tall and strong and can shoot three arrows one through the other in the time it takes to blink. 

“She is also old enough to be your mother,” Elladan laughs, plucking a golden apple from the tree above their heads.

“Or grandmother,” Elrohir adds, always quick to join in teasing her.

Arwen glares at them both. “What do you two know about love, anyway?” Her brothers have had no great loves of their own, more interested in things like war and glory, fingers inching towards their swords even in their sleep.

When she confesses her love to Eregwen and gives her the bracelet she’s made from a lock of her hair, a token of her affection, the guard accepts it, as graceful and stoic as always, and her refusal is not unkind. 

And when Eregwen dies later that same decade in a skirmish with some orcs, Arwen weeps bitterly into her bed sheets though she hasn’t thought of the guard in some years.

Even immortal things are unsafe, she’s learning. There is no soft place to rest her love so that it may not break.

Arwen falls in and out of love enough times in her life to lose track. For she has such a very long life, and time is a difficult thing for immortals to keep track of. It moves differently for them, sometimes stretching languidly in a century that feels like one honey-sweet summer, and sometimes falling over itself in a jumbled up rush. 

She is closer to three thousand years old than not by the time she meets the boy called Hope, the false son her father brought home to Rivendell for safe-keeping, as if he was some rich trinket rather than a child. 

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Imagine being a wolven skin changer and always protective of Legolas (Part 2)

A/N - Well I ended up not changing anything because the lovely missbeccalaura read through it for me while I made cupcakes! I’m so glad so many of you liked the first part :)! I hope you like this one too! 

Imagine
Words: 1,547
Pairing: Legolas x Reader
Part one can be read here!

He missed her. He never admitted it but he missed that little wolf saving his ass. He’d only spent half a day with her (and most of that was carrying bodies around) but he missed her.
Elves often knew when they had found their mate. His father knew it was his mother within seconds of meeting her.
 For a while, Legolas assumed it to be Tauriel but when Y/N bounded back into his life there was no mistake.
The over-protective skin changer was his soul-mate and the ache in his heart grew as each day passed.
However, it had been over sixty years since he last saw her and he didn’t know how long skin changers lived.
She could be dead for all he knew (although he hoped not).
“Legolas,” Aragorn shouted for the fifteenth time trying to catch his friend’s attention.
“Don’t worry about him laddie. He’s too busy dreaming about his imaginary wolf girlfriend,” Gimli remarked, altering his axe on the back of the horse they borrowed from Èomer.
“Well, it will get him killed,” Gandalf the White snapped.
The three horses stood mere miles from Edoras, where Théoden resided.  
“Edoras and the golden hall of Meduseld. There dwells Théoden, King of Rhoan, whose mind is overthrown. Saruman’s hold over King Théoden is now very strong,”  Gandalf whispered to his companions.
“What does that mean?” Gimli asked.
“It means we have to behave,” Aragorn shouted from the other side of Gandalf.
“Especially you Legolas,” Gandalf spoke to him. Legolas nodded, confusion overtaking his features.

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Light of the Stars

Fandom: The Lord of The Rings

Pairing: Legolas x Elf!Reader

Request

Word Count: 2890

Warning: None, fluffy fluff fluff. 

Notes: Another completed request for s-writings . :) I hope you like it, dear. I had fine writing, and I am very appreciative that you requested one from me. <3

I hope y'all enjoy!~

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I am back from my second viewing of the Hobbit (Battle of the Desolation of the Journey of the I can never remember what comes after the colon) and I am ready to have Thoughts.

  • So first of all, though this movie fails on multiple levels, it gets a lot of attractive people into armor and that works for me.
  • Also, it is a very baffling experience, to cry like a small child at a movie you know is such a structural, tonal, and cinematic mess.
  • No seriously, the cognitive dissonance of it is really disconcerting.

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A CS/Snook Fic: Snow Bridge

So after writing Ice Melt, I was still feeling like I had more to say about Snow and Hook’s post season 3 relationship and the things they have in common. I am doubtful we’ll get anything much on the show, so I’m doing it myself.

Summary: Emma is called away while she and Killian are babysitting for her parents. Snow returns early from her night out, surprising Killian, and the two commiserate over a common circumstance in their past that changed both their lives. 

Rating: PG/K+
~3700 words
AO3/FF.net

There are more notes at the end about something I don’t want to spoil here.

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“I thought for sure Neal was going to be up all night,” Emma groused as she sat heavily next to Killian, tipping her head back over the edge of the couch with a sigh. “It’s like they sugared him up just in time for us to watch him,” she continued, rubbing her face with both hands and yawning.

“I wouldn’t put it past your father, darling,” Killian replied, open book in hand, sparing Emma a quick glance as he turned the page. They’d offered their services to watch Emma’s baby brother so her parents could celebrate their anniversary with a night out for dinner. Sheriff Swan was still on call, so she brought Killian along in case something came up and she had to leave. Other than the baby being very much awake and interested in every move his sister and Killian made, the night had been without incident.

Emma scooted away from Killian so she could lay down, her head on his thigh, and her legs dangling over the arm of the couch. She reached over, plucked the book out of his hand, and set it down on the floor as she looked at him, upside down, with a rather silly grin. Perhaps she had shared whatever sugary treat she accused her parents of giving her brother. Killian huffed, and leaned over to pick up the book again but Emma stopped him with her hand to his chest before he could squash her head with his body on the way down.

“I was going to take advantage of the quiet, love. Do you have any idea how long it’s been since I’ve read a book for pleasure?” he asked, thoroughly put out.

“Well, if it’s pleasurable activities you are looking for, Captain, I am here on my back,” she suggested with a wink.

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