Middle-Earthen Drabbles

I write fanfiction and sometimes I reblog stuff. My ask is always open--feel free to talk to me about anything, and I also take requests! Addy, she/her

[beginning-end-and-middle-earth]

Look who’s back again after 6 months…it’s me! Hey everyone. I’ve missed you guys. I’ve missed writing so much too. But for the past few months, it’s been hard. I haven’t written a thing since I left. Writer's block is a terrible thing. It's good to be back! ☺

[beginning-end-and-middle-earth]

I Can’t Lose You

Words: 1587

WARNING: Explicit content

Based off of this imagine from @imaginexhobbit

Notes: This is the first time I’ve written and published smut. Feedback is greatly appreciated!

               You sat on your bed in the room that you and Pippin were sharing in Minas Tirith. The air was deathly silent. Outside, no stars were in the sky, and the glow of the moon was weak. Pippin was pacing all around the room, running his hands through his hair, worry creasing his brow. You followed him with your eyes, your own worry growing. This was so out of character for him.

               “It’ll be okay Pip,” you said in an attempt to soothe him.

               “You don’t know that,” he countered. “We’re not meant for battle. We’re just hobbits.” He sighed and tangled both of his hands in his hair.

               You met him in the center of the room and gently grasped his wrists, slowly pulling his hands out of his hair. Your hands slid up from his wrists to hold his hands in yours gently, and you pressed a gentle kiss to his knuckles. Pippin closed his eyes tightly and rested his forehead against yours, letting out a shaky breath.

               “We’ll be okay,” you whispered. “I have faith in us. I have faith in you. You have more courage than you know.”

               “It’s not me I’m worried about,” Pippin murmured.

               “What do you mean?” you asked.

               “It’s you,” he said softly. “I don’t want to lose you. I can’t lose you. You don’t have to fight. Please don’t fight, (Y/N).”

               “I have to.” You cupped his cheek in your hand, looking into his sad, scared eyes. “I want to. I have as much reason to fight as anyone else. I want to help protect the people I love. Including you.” He smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes.

               “That’s what I want to do too. I just wish I didn’t have to be in a battle to do it,” Pippin said.

               “I know,” you agreed. “But we don’t really have a choice…”

               Pippin wrapped his arms around you tightly and tucked his face in the crook of your neck. You held him back just as tightly, feeling fear of your own tighten your stomach. For all you knew, you would never see him again after tomorrow. The hobbit that you’d fancied for years and finally confessed your feelings to after following him to Gondor on a stolen pony from Rohan could be taken away from you by nothing more than a flick of an orc’s blade. You swallowed the lump that had appeared suddenly in your throat and buried your face in his curls.

               “I love you,” he whispered, so softly you could scarcely hear it.

               “I love you too,” you replied.

               Pippin pressed his lips against yours softly, one of his hands resting on the back of your neck. You returned the kiss gently, shutting out the world around you and focusing instead on him. The taste of his lips, the brush of his fingers on your skin, the heat radiating from his body. You wanted this moment to last forever. You let out a small gasp of shock when the hand on your neck moved to your hips, pulling you roughly against his own. A small warmth, a tingling feeling, sparked in your stomach. Pippin looked at you with hooded eyes. His face was flushed and his breathing was coming in small pants. The warmth blossomed slightly.

               You wrapped your arms around his neck and kissed him again. This time, your mouths were hot and needy. Pippin soon moved from your lips to your neck, peppering it with small, wet kisses. You groaned when he took your flesh in between his teeth, and you gripped his shoulders tightly. Your dress felt too hot. Your face was damp with sweat. The warmth had spread to the place in between your legs and was steadily growing. You whimpered as Pippin sucked on the skin of your collarbones.

               “P-Pip,” you gasped. “O-oh, please, I…” You couldn’t finish your thought—your head was spinning.

               Luckily, Pippin knew what you were trying to say. He reached around to the back of your dress and unlaced it until it fell limply to the floor. You fumbled with the buttons of his shirt, your eagerness betraying you and making you clumsy. You got it eventually however, and soon it joined your dress on the floor. Pippin led you over to your bed, his own separate one forgotten, and gently pushed you on your back before climbing on top of you.

               You marveled in the sight of him. He was so beautiful. You wanted to explore every inch, every blemish, and every flaw of his body. You ran your hands down his torso, eliciting a shaky exhalation. The usual softness of a hobbit’s belly was gone, replaced by the thinner, slightly toned muscles of one who was on a great journey. His skin was soft under your hands. You pressed a kiss to his abdomen, and a quiet groan escaped him. A slight bulge tented his trousers. Your cheeks warmed at the sight.

               Pippin’s gentle hands were on you again, unlacing your corset. Your face reddened further as it was removed, leaving you exposed. You bit your lip and turned your head to the side, embarrassed by his stare. Pippin gently turned your head back toward him, his eyes full of love.

               “You don’t need to be embarrassed. You’re beautiful,” he whispered as he ran one hand down your side. You shivered. Pippin chuckled, low and quiet, making the warmth in between your legs begin to pulse slightly. You squirmed as he removed the rest of both your clothing, longing for his touch.

               Pippin raked his gaze down your body, drinking in every inch of your skin with his eyes. He ran his hands down your thighs as he kissed your collarbone. You gasped and whispered his name when his mouth trailed down to your breasts. He latched onto one of your nipples and sucked lightly, trailing a slow, hot circle around it with his tongue. Your breath came in gasps and your body trembled. A cry of pleasure escaped you as he bit down gently. He trailed kisses over to the other breast and gave it the same attention, leaving you giddy with pleasure.

               You moaned quietly when Pippin trailed slow, wet kisses down your stomach until he reached your thighs. He looked up at you for a moment, taking in your red cheeks and lustful gaze before his tongue met your already dripping core. You moaned again, louder this time, as his tongue flicked across your sensitive bundle of nerves. Silver stars danced in your vision and the warmth in your stomach grew in intensity. It became a white-hot coil, winding tighter and tighter with each lap of Pippin’s tongue. Just as it was about to come undone, Pippin pulled away. You whimpered in protest.

               “You’re delicious,” he whispered in your ear. “And you’re so, so beautiful.” He accompanied the last word with a squeeze of your breasts, and you bit your lip. You wanted him so badly. You could feel his own desire too—quite literally. It was pressed up against your thigh.

               “Pippin,” you breathed, “I want you. I need you.” You hooked one leg around his hips, drawing him nearer.

               “You’re sure?” he said, suddenly hesitant. “I—I know that usually people wait until marriage and all—“

               “If I marry anyone, Pip, I want it to be you,” you said, silencing him. “I’m sure. Please.” You were practically begging at this point. Reassured, Pippin brushed his lips against your cheek before slowly pushing himself into you, letting out a low moan.

               You clung to his back, sinking your fingernails into his shoulders. You had known that it would feel good, but this was—you simply didn’t have the words. Pippin slowly drew out of you before pushing back in again with the same speed, muttering curses under his panting breath. The coil inside of you was winding itself up again. You quietly urged him to move faster, and he obliged. Both of your breathing became more labored and erratic as he quickened his pace, moans and whimpers piercing the air in between gasps.

               “Pippin!” you cried as he struck a spot that sent waves of bliss washing over you. “Oh, Pippin, right—right there!” You wrapped your legs around him and came up to meet him with every thrust, sending him deeper into you. The coil of pleasure wound itself tighter and tighter until it released, leaving you trembling. You moaned as your walls clenched around Pippin’s length, and he had his own release soon after yours, moaning your name.

               You both laid there, breathing heavily, sweat covering your bodies, foreheads resting together. Pippin looked deeply into your eyes, and you into his. You felt surrounded by his love for you, safe and warm and happy. He withdrew himself from you with one last small pleasured grunt and laid down next to you, running his fingers through your damp hair. You wrapped your arms around him and tucked your head under his chin, content. A comfortable silence laid over the two of you for a time.

               “No matter what happens tomorrow, I want you to know how much I love you,” Pippin said softly.

               “I do,” you whispered back, planting a kiss to his nose. “And I love you too.” He smiled and closed his eyes.

               You stroked his cheek gently with one finger. The morning might bring war and death and hardship, but the only thing that mattered to you now was the one you loved.

[thorinscrown-blog]

What do you fear, my lady?

[beginning-end-and-middle-earth]

Loved By All

Words: 895

Based off of a prompt submitted by elizabeth-greenleaf.

If you have a request, visit my ask box!

I’ve decided to make this into multiple parts. Otherwise, it would get insanely long for just one post. I haven’t adressed even half the prompt that was sent to me! XD

               The first thing you took notice of was the temperature. It was absolutely freezing. You opened your eyes groggily, discovering why you were so chilled—you were completely naked. You sat up, brushing leaves and sticks off your back and taking in your surroundings. You were in a forest without any recollection of how you’d gotten there. You had no idea where you’d been before, either—in fact, your memory was blank. You didn’t know how old you were, where you were born, who your parents were, or even what you looked like. The only thing you could remember was your own name.

               You looked around once more, searching for a trace of something that would trigger your memory. You also hoped to find your clothing; the chilliness of the forest had begun to sink into your skin, causing you to shiver. In the midst of your search, you noticed a weight on your finger. You looked down to see a silver ring. It was a simple band, with an engraving that read One Who is Loved by All. The letters were swirling and elegant. You studied the ring closely, perplexed by it. What did it mean?

               You were too busy being confused to notice the rustling of the underbrush. A dwarf with raven hair that had silver streaks running through it like veins of silver in a rock appeared. He let out a startled cry, and you looked up. The two of you stared at each other for a moment, shocked by the other’s appearance.

               “Uncle? What’s wrong?” a male voice called. Another dwarf walked toward you. This one had blonde hair. The first dwarf covered the eyes of the blonde, earning a cry of protest. “Uncle! Why are you covering my eyes?” The dwarf simply shook his head and took off his cloak with one hand before tossing it to you. You wrapped it around yourself gratefully. More dwarves gathered, and all of their eyes widened when they saw you. You counted thirteen of them, plus a hobbit.

               “Are you alright?” an older-looking dwarf with white hair and a large beard asked you with concern in his voice.

               “I think so,” you replied.

               “What’s your name?” the dark-haired dwarf asked.

               “(Y/N),” you said.

               “What are you doing in a place like this? How did you end up here?” the white-haired dwarf inquired.

               “I have no idea,” you admitted. “I just woke up here, and the only thing I remember about my life is my name.” Despite the thick fur cloak that was covering you, you were still shivering, but it wasn’t only from the cold. You were terrified. These dwarves seemed kind enough, but you didn’t know any of them, and you feared that any moment they would turn on you. You would have no way to protect yourself; all you were armed with was your ring.

               The dark-haired dwarf turned to the white-haired one, and they spoke with low voices in a language you didn’t understand. You cast your gaze to the ground as you realized they were deciding your fate. Would they leave you here, stranded in a place which you knew nothing about, not even with a scrap of clothing? Your throat tightened at the thought. You looked back up to see that the dark-haired dwarf was regarding you intensely. You stared back, determined not to show your fear. After a short silence, he turned to the dwarves behind him.

               “Get her some clothes,” he ordered. The company of dwarves suddenly burst into movement as they took off their packs and searched for extra pieces of clothing. The dwarf who had first discovered you looked back to you.

               “I am Thorin Oakenshield, leader of this Company,” he said. “We will see to it that you are safe.”

               A few days had passed since your first encounter with the Company. They had been very welcoming, treating you with kindness and warmth. You had trouble keeping track of their names, particularly the princes’—you couldn’t count the number of times you had called Fili Kili or something of the like. The young dwarves had simply laughed it off and told you stories about times that Thorin, who was their uncle, and even their own mother had gotten them confused. You felt at home with them all, despite the fact that you had known them for mere days.

               Today, however, the cheer usually present in the Company was gone. You all had been wandering this accursed forest, having lost the path days ago. None of you had any idea where you were going. The feeling of being trapped consumed you; the air seemed thick and it was hard to breathe, your head was constantly swimming, and you saw things that weren’t there.

               If only that had been the case when the spiders attacked.

               You panicked as the huge, hairy beast encased you in it thick webbing. No amount of struggling helped; the spider was too powerful for any of you to fight against. You couldn’t see anything, but you could feel that you were being taken up into the trees. Blood began to rush to your head as you were hung upside down. It was becoming harder and harder to breathe. You felt dizzy from swinging back and forth. What little you could see began to slowly fade, and you slipped into unconsciousness.

[tenwordstory]

This may be a sad chapter but you are not a sad story

-a follower told me this, thank you. (May 4th)

[beginning-end-and-middle-earth]

Come With Me

Words: 1862

Based on this request. This is a sequel to You’re Invited, which can be found here.

This is looooong. I didn’t expect it to go this far, but here you go! I hope this is what you were looking for :)

               Over the past few years, life had gone very well for you. Your garden had flourished, producing the sweetest-smelling flowers and the most delicious tomatoes in all of Hobbiton. You’d met a spectacular gentlehobbit and married him. You lived in a hobbit hole that was nicer than any you were used to. Your neighbors were pleasant. There were very few things for you to worry about; you had an easy life, a life which many would die to have.

               And yet, you were miserable.

               It was true that your husband had been wonderful when you’d first met and all the time that you’d been courting, but the two of you had rushed into things. You weren’t used to having the attention of a man, and you’d been so afraid to lose the wonderful feeling that it gave you that you’d said yes to his proposal without hesitation. It wasn’t that your husband was a bad person; you simply weren’t in love with him anymore. You felt awful, as if each day you were living was a lie, and you had no one to blame but yourself. You were suffering the consequences for your rash actions. Perhaps, you thought, you would grow to love him. You kept telling yourself that, when you knew that it was also a lie.

               Another hobbit had your heart, one with bright blue eyes and dark, soft curls. Frodo Baggins. You’d fancied him for years, but you’d never told him. He had made no indication that he returned your feelings, and you were so gripped by the fear of rejection that you had always kept quiet whenever a chance to confess to him came up. You had thought that your feelings for him had faded by the time your wedding day came along, but you were sorely mistaken.

               You hadn’t seen Frodo for over a year. He’d made no indication to anyone of where he was going or if he would return. So, needless to say, when you saw his smiling face among the guests as you’d walked down the aisle, your heart had leapt into your throat. He was there, he was safe, he was alive. It was all you could do to not burst into tears. That night at the reception, you had learned of Frodo’s quest. You wondered at his bravery.

               The feeling you’d had when Frodo came back to the Shire was what had been the source of the tiny prick of doubt in your heart; perhaps you’d made the wrong choice.

               Now you realized you had. You sighed forlornly as you travelled down the road to the marketplace to purchase groceries. Your gaze drifted toward Bag End as you passed it. A ridiculous fantasy came into your head; you would drop the basket you were holding, run into the hobbit hole, and tell Frodo that you made a horrible mistake and that you loved him more than anything else in the world. You chuckled in spite of yourself. Pulling a stunt like that would not only break your husband’s heart—both yours and Frodo’s reputations as respectable hobbits would be destroyed, and you would probably humiliate the poor hobbit.

               Frodo emerged from Bag End, a pipe in his mouth, and walked down the path to his mailbox. Upon seeing you, he smiled.

               “Good morning, (Y/N),” he called.

               “Good morning, Frodo,” you smiled.

               “Where are you off to?” the handsome hobbit asked as he looked through his mail.

               “The marketplace,” you replied. “Sigeric and I have been needing to stock the pantry for a while.”

               Frodo nodded. “How is Sigeric? I’ve hardly seen him since your wedding.” There was something strange about the way he said those last two words.

               “He’s doing just fine,” you said with a smile. “Life is treating us rather well.”

               “I’m happy to hear that,” Frodo said, returning your smile. “The two of you should come over for tea sometime soon. I rather miss your company.”

               “We’d love to,” you agreed with a note of enthusiasm in your voice that may have been a bit too strong.

               “How does Thursday sound?” Frodo asked.

               “Wonderful,” you smiled. “We’ll see you then.”

               “Indeed,” Frodo agreed. He smiled at you once more before bidding you farewell and retreating indoors once more. You finished your walk to the marketplace in a considerably better mood than you had started it.

                 That Thursday, you knocked on Frodo’s beautifully painted green door. You fussed with your dress, smoothing out the wrinkles on your skirts with your hands. Normally, you would not be so nervous, but you were alone. This morning, Sigeric had woken up feeling quite ill. He’d insisted that you go to Bag End without him and enjoy a cup of tea with an old friend. You’d given in, silently and guiltily happy that you would have time alone with Frodo.

               The dark-haired hobbit answered the door with a smile on his face. He looked very handsome indeed, wearing a dark blue jacket that brought out his eyes. You returned his smile and explained why you were alone when he inquired about your lack of companionship. He ushered you inside, and soon you were sitting in a comfortable armchair, a warm cup of tea in your hands. You sighed with bliss, but your heart ached; you wished you could spend every day like this. You and Frodo kept a light-hearted conversation going, discussing the success of your gardens and the antics of the local hobbits. After a while, a silence fell over the two of you.

               Frodo broke it a few moments later. “(Y/N)…”

               “Yes, Frodo?” you replied. You shifted slightly under his gaze. He was looking at you rather intensely.

               “Are you…are you happy?” he asked after another moment of silence.

               The question hit you like a ton of bricks. “Of course I am. Why do you ask?”

               Frodo’s eyes flitted down to his teacup. “It’s your eyes. There’s such sadness in them sometimes. I’ve never noticed it until—“ He suddenly shook his head, as if he couldn’t bear to finish his thought.

               “Until what?” you pressed. “Please, tell me.”

               Frodo sighed slightly. He didn’t look up from his tea. “I started to notice it after you married Sigeric. It wasn’t immediate. But as the years have gone by, it’s grown.” He looked back up at you. “I know it’s not my place to say or ask such things. But are you happy?”

               You swallowed and your eyes darted around the room. You had to look at something, anything but Frodo. He knew you too well. You’d been a fool to think that he wouldn’t notice that you were miserable. It had been hard to put up a front, but you thought you’d done it well. Once again, you were lying to yourself.

               “No, I’m not happy,” you admitted quietly, looking at Frodo. “In fact, I’ve never been more miserable. But it isn’t his fault. Sigeric is a wonderful hobbit. He’s kind, intelligent, and loving…but…I’m not in love with him. I don’t know if I ever was. For as long as I can remember, I’ve been in love with someone else…” You blinked furiously in an effort to hold back tears, but a few escaped and cascaded down your cheeks. Frodo reached out and put his hand over yours, and you gripped it tightly.

               “I rushed into things, we rushed into things, and I made a mistake. I wish I could undo all of this. I never meant to hurt him.” You were fully crying now, gripping Frodo’s hand so tightly that it hurt. He gently pulled you into his arms, and you gratefully buried your face into his shoulder. His hand gently ran up and down your back as your cried, and he whispered words of comfort until your tears ran dry. You didn’t pull away from his embrace once you’d stopped weeping, and he made no effort to either.

               “I can’t stand to see you in so much pain, (Y/N),” Frodo murmured.

               A pained whisper of “oh, Frodo” was all you could manage.

               “You deserve to be happy,” Frodo continued. He pulled away from the hug slightly so that you could look at him. In his eyes, you saw an overwhelming sadness. “You of all people deserve to be happy.”

               You couldn’t hold back anymore. You kissed him. It was wrong. It was foolish. There was no telling what it would lead to. But none of that mattered to you right now; you’d spent too much time living a lie. You needed the truth. You needed someone you really loved.

               Frodo inhaled sharply through his nose when your lips met. You could feel heat radiating from his cheeks. You broke the kiss to apologize, but this time you were the one who was shocked; Frodo cradled your face in his hands and kissed you hard and deep. A small, barely inaudible groan escaped your throat. After a few moments, you both pulled away for air.

               “I love you,” you blurted. “I’ve loved you for years. I don’t remember a time before I loved you. I made a mistake when I married Sigeric. It should have been you.”

               “I love you too,” Frodo said. There were tears in his eyes. You held each other tightly, Frodo burying his face in your hair. Minutes of bliss passed, minutes in which you knew nothing except Frodo. The feel of his body against yours, the softness of his hair, his scent, his breath that tickled your ear, his warmth. Suddenly, he held you by your shoulders, looking deep into your eyes.

               “Come with me,” he said lowly, excitedly. “I’m leaving the Shire. Come with me, (Y/N), please. I don’t want to spend another day without you.”

               “You’re leaving?” you choked. No. You’d just gotten him back. He couldn’t leave again.

               “Not without you,” Frodo promised. “I’ll stay wherever you are for the rest of my life. I’ll follow you to the ends of the earth. I can’t leave you again.”

               Your mind raced. Was Frodo really asking you to run away with him? The prospect was exciting, but it would be a messy affair. You’d be leaving behind everything you’d ever known and everyone you’d ever loved. You would probably never come back to Hobbiton. You might even be leaving Middle-Earth.

               You looked at Frodo. Love and hope shone from his face. Your heart melted at the sight. You imagined waking up to see him every morning, having tea with him every afternoon, and his face being the last thing you saw every night. You imagined building a new life with him in a new land, becoming his bride, and bearing his children. You imagined growing old together, every day full of love and happiness. Your choice was obvious.

               “I’ll come with you,” you said. Frodo smiled and kissed you again, pouring all of his joy into it.

               What you were going to do was rash. It was a life-changing decision that you’d made in a mere minute and had barely thought about. Running away with Frodo would change everything for you. You were rushing into things again…

               But this time, you didn’t regret it.

[beginning-end-and-middle-earth]

Up A Tree

Words: 636

Based on this imagine from imaginexhobbit

               “What are you doing?” Thorin asked as you clambered onto the lowest branch of a sturdy oak tree.

               “I saw a bird’s nest!” you replied excitedly. “I want to see it up close.” The dwarf king crossed his arms and shook his head as your booted feet disappeared into the leaves. He traced your movements through the rustling of branches and the occasional snap of a twig. From the racket you were making, any bird in that tree would be long gone by now.

               “You’re like an elf,” Thorin teased. “Climbing trees and watching the birds.” There was silence as the rustling of the branches ceased. It was broken by Thorin’s cry of surprise when an acorn hit him smack in the middle of his forehead with surprising force. The leaves above him burst into giggles.

               “Never compare me to an elf again,” you warned, “especially when I’m in a tree loaded with things to throw at you!”

               Thorin rubbed his head and chuckled fondly. If it had been anyone else, he would have been burning a hole in the tree with his glare. But the two of you had been friends since childhood, and you had always been able to bring out the softer, more carefree side of him, even after Smaug took Erebor. You reminded him of better, happier times. You failed to notice Thorin’s fondness of you, not seeing the twinkle in his blue eyes every time his gaze was cast your way.

               You finally reached the bird nest. Three blue eggs with tiny black specks sat snugly nestled in the twigs. The mother was nowhere to be seen. You smiled at the sight of the eggs, imagining the babies breaking the shells open and filling the air with their tiny, shrill chirps. A breeze blew through the tree’s branches, ruffling the leaves and sending your hair across your face. You brushed it back behind your ear and looked out between the leaves, admiring the view of Ered Luin. After a few minutes, you decided it was time to come back down the the ground. You looked down.

               Oh.

               It was higher than you thought.

               Too high.

               Mahal.

               “(Y//N?” Thorin called. “Are you alright up there?”

               “F-fine!” you squeaked. You clung to the trunk, knees shaking. How were you going to get down? There was no way that you could now, after seeing how high it was, no sir—

               “Are you stuck?” Thorin didn’t even try to hide the smile in his voice.

               “Of course not!” Was that a chuckle you heard? You groaned. Of all the embarrassing things to happen, this had to be one of the worst. Getting stuck in a tree. Marvelous. You thumped your head against the trunk, eyes shut tight. Your eyes opened again when the sound of rustling leaves met your ears. Thorin was coming to rescue you. You couldn’t decide if this was sweet or utterly humiliating. Probably both.

               “(Y/N).” Thorin was on the branch below you. “Come down to me. I won’t let you fall.” He opened his arms to you, blue eyes filled with mirth and something else you couldn’t place.

               Hesitantly, you let go of the trunk. You sat down on your branch and eased yourself down to Thorin’s. Slowly and carefully, the two of you climbed down the tree, your anxiety fading the closer you got to solid ground. At the last branch, you managed to demonstrate your abundant grace by falling off of the branch and landing on Thorin.

               “I’m sorry!” you cried. “I’m so clumsy…”

               “It’s alright,” Thorin gasped. You’d knocked the wind right out of him. Both of you stood up.

               “Thank you for saving me,” you murmured sheepishly.

               “Perhaps you wouldn’t have needed saving if you hadn’t gone so high,” the king teased.

               “Oh, shut up,” you grumbled.

[beginning-end-and-middle-earth]

so I just read your Echoing Silence story about Thorin, and I about cried it was so beautiful

Awe, thank you <3 *hands you some tissues* Don’t cry, sweetie!

[beginning-end-and-middle-earth]

I know it's been awhile since you wrote it, but can you do a second part to You're Invited? The Frodo x reader? I can't stand to see my baby heartbroken. 😭

Hmm, perhaps I could! It might take me a bit to come up with how I could expand on that, though. I know how you feel...poor Frodo :(

[beginning-end-and-middle-earth]

I was scrolling through my personal today, when I saw that imaginexhobbit had posted the drabbles I’d submitted. I immediately flipped out and logged on here...and I saw that my activity had exploded.

I never, ever expected to have 100 followers. Last time I checked I have 139. I was so happy I was crying. I’m going through the process of going through the notes, seeing what tags people have added to my works and the comments that they’ve made.

Thank you, thank you all, so much.  I was having a slightly rough day today with family issues, and you’ve made it so much better. It made me smile to see that people loved what I wrote, that I made people laugh. It means so much to me that anyone takes time out of their day to read my stuff. I pour my heart into everything I write, and knowing that people like that makes my day. I don’t remember the last time I smiled this much or was brought to tears of joy.

Thank you! <3

[beginning-end-and-middle-earth]

A Girl Worth Fighting For

WARNING: Complete and utter silliness. :)

Based off of this imagine from imaginexhobbit

               Bilbo trudged along grumpily. It was raining, hard. The water came down in cold, unforgiving sheets, drenching everyone in the Company. There was an overall air of unhappiness about everyone. The weather hadn’t been the best during the past few days—it had been nothing but rain and cold winds. The hobbit wished for nothing more than to be back in his hole, reading a book by his warm hearth, a cup of tea at his side while he listened to the rain outside rather than walking through it. Bilbo imagined that he’d catch a cold if the weather kept up like this.

               “For a long time we’ve been marching off to battle,” Bofur sang suddenly. Bilbo looked ahead of him at the virtuoso dwarf. Evidently he was trying to raise everyone’s spirits with a song. Bilbo’s spirits, however, were not risen. Battle? He wasn’t fond of the sound of that.

               “In our thunderin’ herd, we feel a lot like cattle,” Dwalin sang gruffly. Bofur nodded encouragingly, looking around at the others with a grin. The dwarves gave in.

               “Like the pounding beat, our aching feet aren’t easy to ignore,” they sang.

               “Hey! Think of instead, a girl worth fighting for!” Bofur sang.

               “Huh?” Bilbo said, rather stupidly.

               “That’s what I said! A girl worth fighting for!” Bofur was at Bilbo’s side. He threw an arm around the hobbit’s shoulders and continued, “I want her paler than the moon, with eyes that shine like stars.”

               “My girl will marvel at my strength, adore my battle scars,” Dwalin joined in.

               “I couldn’t care less what she’ll wear or what she looks like,” Bombur sang. “It all depends on what she cooks like! Beef, pork, chicken…mmm!” A chuckle rippled throughout the Company. Dwalin was suddenly at Bilbo’s side as well, opposite of Bofur.

               “Bet the girls back home thought you were quite the charmer,” he sang. Bilbo was slightly taken aback—he hadn’t expected Dwalin, of all people, to be one to tease.

               “And I bet the ladies love a man in amor!” Bofur sang as he flexed his arms comically. Everyone laughed in earnest. Bofur’s attempt at improving the mood had worked excellently.

               “You can guess what we have missed the most since we went off to war,” the Company chorused.

               “What do we want?” Bofur prompted, his hand cupped to his ear in an “I’m listening” gesture.

               “A girl worth fighting for!” the others replied.

               “My girl will think I have no faults,” Dwalin sang, and several members of the Company snorted. He glared around, trying to find the culprits.

               “That I’m a major find,” Bombur continued. Everyone looked at Bilbo, who hadn’t participated yet.

               “Uh,” he sputtered, “how ‘bout a girl who’s got a brain, who always speaks her…mind?”

               The Company considered this for a moment. “Nah!” Bilbo rolled his eyes.

               “My manly ways and turn of phrase are sure to thrill her!” Bofur sang, kissing the hand of an invisible lass.

               “He thinks he’s such a lady killer,” Dwalin sang under his breath to Bilbo, who snorted and covered his mouth with his hand to hold back a chuckle.

               “I’ve got a girl back home who’s unlike any other,” Gloin reminisced. He was staring off into the distance with a small smile and a wistful look in his eyes. Bilbo’s heart went out to the dwarf; he must have missed his family.

               “Yet the only girl who’d love him is his mother,” Dwalin teased. Bilbo wondered what had gotten into the normally gruff, silent warrior. Gloin sent a glare in his direction.

               “But when we come home in victory, they’ll line up at the door!” everyone sang, even Bilbo.

               “What do we want?” Bofur asked.

               “A girl worth fighting for!” the Company replied.

               “Wish that I had,” Bofur sighed.

               “A girl worth fighting for!”

               After a brief silence, cheers rang throughout the travelers. A good song always cheered everyone up, and this one had been particularly entertaining. Rather than focusing on the rain and cold, the dwarves were all talking about the lass that they were planning to court once the quest was over. Bilbo found himself reminiscing about a hobbit lass he’d held great fondness for but never pursued. The atmosphere was light and happy, and Bilbo was quite grateful to Bofur for making travelling in horrible conditions that much more bearable.

[beginning-end-and-middle-earth]

Echoing Silence

Based on this imagine from imaginexhobbit.

Words: 365

               No sound echoed through the halls of the newly reclaimed Erebor. You laid in bed in your chambers, staring at the ceiling. It was quiet—far too quiet for your liking. You couldn’t sleep to save your life. Due to the fact that you’d slept on the ground for months during the quest to reclaim this city, you should have fallen asleep almost instantly after your head hit the pillow. But it all seemed so foreign now; the bed was too soft, you couldn’t see the stars, and there was no one nearby.

               The thing that left the biggest hole in your heart, however, was the absence of the snores of the dwarf king.

               At first, Thorin’s rumbling snores had irritated you. How were you expected to sleep with that racket mere feet away from you? Over time, however, you’d grown accustomed to them. It was almost like sleeping during a storm with rolling thunder in the distance. His rumbling had assured you that you were safe, for if the king was asleep, what dangers could there be? Every night, as you got more and more used to the snoring, each sleep was more peaceful than the last.

               But then everything changed.

               You had been the first one to see Thorin laying on the ice, cold and lifeless, his gaze permanently fixated on the sky above him. You’d barely noticed Bilbo, sobbing into his hands, sitting next to your king. You had slowly approached the scene, hardly daring to believe it. You’d listened closely, straining your ears, hoping for low rumbling sounds to reach them. Perhaps he was only asleep. It was possible to sleep with your eyes open. But the only sound you heard was Bilbo’s choked sobs. Soon, you too wept.

               You closed your eyes and rolled over on your side, hoping that the more comfortable position would help you drift off. You tossed and turned, but nothing worked. With a frustrated sigh, you laid spread-eagle, staring at the ceiling once more. The loss of Thorin hit you once more, somehow harder than it had the first time. You wept bitterly.

               Finally, out of exhaustion, you managed to fall into an uneasy slumber.

[beginning-end-and-middle-earth]

She’s Dying!

Based off of this imagine from imaginexhobbit

Words: 641

               Periods sucked.

               That was the conclusion that you came to every time you got a visit from Aunt Flow, as you so lovingly called your monthly cycle. Over the past few days, you’d been assaulted with cramps so bad that all you wanted to do was curl up in a ball on the ground. But, of course, you couldn’t do that. You, thirteen dwarves, a wizard, and a hobbit were on a quest to reclaim the kingdom of Erebor. At the moment, however, the rest of the Company was setting up camp for the night. You’d told everyone that you weren’t feeling well and laid down on your bedroll, your blanket wrapped around you like a cocoon. You hadn’t told anyone of your “condition”—why bother? Discussing womanly issues such as this would just make your male companions uncomfortable.

               “Hey, (Y/N),” Fili called, “do you have any bandages? Kili’s hand slipped when he was sharpening his blade.”

               “I told you, it’s not that bad,” Kili muttered. Fili ignored him.

               “There should be some in my bag,” you responded, not bothering to turn your head to look at them.

               Fili thanked you and began looking for the bandages while his younger brother grumbled unintelligibly. You closed your eyes, tempted to fall asleep without any dinner. This positon was relatively comfortable, and the stabbing pain of your cramps had reduced to a dull ache. The crackling of the fire and the sounds of camp being set up began to lull you into a peaceful sleep…

               “What’s this?” Fili said. You cursed under your breath and opened your eyes. Fili was holding up a tampon. Both princes regarded the object with a confused expression. Kili reached inside your bag and pulled out another, turning it over in his hands as he attempted to identify it.

               “That’s a tampon,” you said.

               “What do you use it for?” Kili asked.

               “They’re for when I’m on my period,” you replied. The two dwarves looked at you, clearly not understanding what this meant. You sighed slightly and sat up.

               “Every month, a woman’s body prepares itself for pregnancy,” you began. “If she doesn’t get pregnant, though, she starts to bleed from her…” You gestured to your lower regions. “Tampons are used to absorb the blood so it doesn’t get everywhere.” The brothers stared at you, horrified.

               “So you’re bleeding?” Kili asked. You nodded.

               “How long have you been bleeding?” Fili asked.

               “About three days now,” you sighed.

               “Three days?!” Fili and Kili gasped in unison. You nodded again, letting out a slight chuckle at their cluelessness. Then they did something unexpected.

               “She’s dying!” Kili shouted, getting up and running around the camp.

               “What’re you goin’ on about?” Dwalin said.

               “(Y/N) is dying!” Fili repeated. “She’s been bleeding for three days!” Fili joined his brother, running around the camp in a panicked frenzy, shouting “She’s dying! She’s dying!”

               “I’m not dying!” you protested. “I’m just on my period!”

               “But you’ve been bleeding for—!” Kili’s shout was cut off by an exclamation of pain as Gandalf grabbed his ear. He soon did the same to Fili.

               “What Miss (Y/N) is experiencing is a perfectly natural process,” the wizard said calmly. “I can assure you she is not dying. Now, learn your manners…you’re embarrassing the poor girl.” Gandalf was right about that. Your face was burning bright red.

               “Sorry,” the princes mumbled. You brushed it off, saying it was alright before laying back down on your bedroll. Soon the camp was back to normal. The older dwarves teased Fili and Kili for having such an extreme reaction, much to your amusement. The Tampon Catastrophe, as you so lovingly called that event, did have a positive outcome: the Company went out of their way to ensure that no one pestered you too much when it was “that time of the month.”

[beginning-end-and-middle-earth]

A Lyrical Misunderstanding

Based off of this imagine from imaginexhobbit. I don’t remember if there was a request or not, but this idea was so hilarious to me that I had to do it x)

You’d had quite a few strange things happen to you in your lifetime, but getting transported into Middle-Earth outweighed all of them combined. It had taken you quite a bit to adjust to life without electricity, cars, and any other modern commodities that you’d taken advantage of, but you managed. The thing you missed the most, however, was music. There was no shortage of music in Middle-Earth, what with all the singing that the inhabitants took part in, but it wasn’t quite the same. You missed your favorite songs. Of course, you did have your phone, but you only used it in dire emergencies.

This happened to be one of them.

You were sitting around the campfire with the members of Thorin Oakenshield’s company. You had your phone out, which always drew their interest. Everyone—dwarves, hobbit, and wizard—was fascinated with the piece of technology, no matter how many times they saw it. You were listening to one of your favorite songs: Uptown Funk. Your headphones had stopped working ages ago, so the song was playing through your phone’s speakers. You’d noticed everyone turn their ears toward you in interest, so you’d turned up the volume. You tapped your foot to the familiar beat and watched the others, amused by their confused expressions. Of course they wouldn’t understand the words, but several of them bobbed their heads slightly to the beat, especially Bofur.

I’m too hot!

(Hot damn)

Called a police and the fireman

I’m too hot!

(Hot damn)

Make a dragon wanna retire, man

Suddenly, everyone froze. You felt the urge to slap yourself—how could you have chosen this song? The dwarves were sensitive to any mention of dragons, and you didn’t blame them. You scanned the faces of everyone around the fire, praying that you didn’t find any anger or something of the like. Much to your relief, everyone simply seemed shocked and even more confused. Thorin wasn’t wearing his usual scowl; instead, he was staring incredulously at your phone. The slightly tense atmosphere faded, and you let out a breath that you didn’t know you’d been holding. As the next song started, Thorin hit the pause button and looked up at you with a very serious expression. You fidgeted under his intense gaze.

“This man says that he makes dragons want to retire,” the dwarf king said.

“Well…yeah,” you agreed. You wondered where he was going with this. Thorin hummed thoughtfully and nodded.

“You were brought into our world with magic, were you not?” he asked.

“Probably. Like I’ve told you, I have no idea how I ended up here,” you said.

Thorin nodded again. “Since you were brought here, would it be possible to transport another?”

“I have no idea. Why?”

“If we could bring this man to our world, he could provide us with great help on our quest,” Thorin said.

“I think I get it,” Fili said. “If we bring him to Smaug—“

“Then Smaug will want to retire!” Kili finished excitedly. “Taking back Erebor won’t be as hard as we thought!”

You burst into laughter. Everyone looked at you, but you didn’t notice. Tears poured from your eyes and you doubled over, clutching your stomach. You hadn’t laughed like this in years. The dwarves thought—they actually believed—! Just thinking about it sent you into another fit of giggles, and soon you were practically shrieking with laughter. You heard other members of the Company joining in, if somewhat nervously. After several minutes, you took a deep breath and pulled yourself together. Your stomach and cheeks ached.

“Songs—songs are a bit different where I come from, guys,” you explained, fighting another laugh attack. “They aren’t to tell the tales of heroes, usually. That guy who was singing didn’t actually want to make dragons retire. The person who wrote it was just thinking of a creative way to say that he was ‘too hot.’”

“Hot damn!” Bofur said with a grin. You giggled.

“Oh,” Kili said, the disappointment on his face evident. A silence fell over the Company, and you began to feel slightly guilty for getting their hopes up.

“So…even if we could get that singer over here—“ Fili began.

“No, he wouldn’t kill the dragon,” you chuckled.

[beginning-end-and-middle-earth]

You’re Awake!

Words: 384

Based on this imagine from imaginexhobbit

               The last thing you remembered was the club of an orc making contact with your skull. The battle had been a blur around you, undistinguishable sounds of metal clanging and screams of pain and enraged battle cries. You had been terrified, but your fear had driven you. Surprisingly, you’d found that you had a slight advantage—since you were a hobbit, you were below the line of sight for the orcs. You’d gone around like a stinging gnat, slicing Achilles’ tendons and the backs of knees. Only a few of them noticed you; there was one particularly foul-tempered orc who’d chased you down, furious that such a small creature had managed to stick him. That was when pain had exploded in the back of your head and the ground had come up to meet you.

               You opened your eyes groggily. Your head was still throbbing from being knocked out. You looked around at the room you were in; you were on a soft bed in what seemed to be a bedroom in Minas Tirith. You gathered that someone had taken you there. You wondered who had done so and soon found yourself worrying about your friends. Were any of them injured? Were they all alive? You were particularly worried about Pippin. You prayed to all the Valar that he was alive and well. Lost in your thoughts, you didn’t notice Pippin enter the room.

               “(Y/N)!” he cried, startling you. In an instant, the hobbit was at your side, his features shining with joy. “You’re awake!”

               “Pippin!” you exclaimed in response. You lunged forward and hugged him with all your might, overwhelmed with joy and relief. Tears welled up in your eyes. Before you could think better of it, you kissed Pippin, your tears falling down your cheeks. You pulled away after a moment, taking in his stunned expression.

               “Thank Yavanna you’re alive,” you whispered. Pippin’s expression grew soft. He kissed away the tears that were still escaping your eyes. Even after they were gone, he continued to pepper your face with light little kisses, causing you to giggle. He nuzzled your nose with his and held you tightly. You both closed your eyes, lost in the moment and in each other.

               “I love you, (Y/N),” Pippin whispered.

               “I love you too, Pippin,” you responded.

[beginning-end-and-middle-earth]

You’re Invited

          You had never left Frodo’s mind. Not once, during the entire quest. Even when the Ring’s darkness had crept dangerously close to his heart, he thought of you. When Gollum tricked Frodo into thinking that Sam was trying to steal the Ring, Frodo had bitterly thought that you would never do such a thing, and that perhaps you should have come with him instead. When the Ring had been destroyed, you were the first thought of the Shire that had returned to his mind.

           Needless to say, Frodo was more than eager to see you again. As soon as Hobbiton came in sight, he imagined how he would greet you. He would approach you while you tended your garden. Your eyes would fill with tears of joy upon realizing that he had returned, and you would throw your arms around him in an embrace. He would wipe the dirt from your face, look into your eyes, and tell you he loved you. Your eyes would fill with tears again, and you would smile, your voice trembling slightly as you said you loved him too. Frodo would hold you close to him and bury his face in your sweet-smelling hair, vowing to never leave you again.

           Frodo took a deep breath as he, Sam, Merry, and Pippin rode into town. He suddenly felt much less confident than he had earlier. Perhaps he should return to Bag End before he went to see you. He could take a bath, dress in fresh clothing, and prepare himself for what he was about to do. That idea appealed to him the most. The four companions parted as they made their separate ways to different parts of town. Frodo dismounted his pony and began walking up the path to his home. The mailbox was full to bursting. Frodo emptied it and began looking through his mail as he entered Bag End.

           One letter stuck out to him. The envelope was gold, with a white wax seal. It had been sent from your home. With slightly trembling fingers, Frodo opened the envelope. A beautiful letter with gold writing was inside.

           It was an invitation to your wedding.

           Frodo’s heart stopped. Suddenly, the fantasy he’d had before coming home seemed foolish. It seemed wrong. You were getting married. Tomorrow. The horrid invitation must have been sent months ago. Frodo’s mouth was dry. He wondered how long you had been engaged. He shook his head. It didn’t matter. What did matter was that you were happy. He imagined your radiant, smiling face as you walked down the aisle, a crown of white roses in your hair and the light of love in your eyes.

           Love for another.

           Frodo swallowed and blinked back tears. He set all of his mail on his desk and wandered off to his bedroom. Tomorrow, he would come to your wedding. He would smile and cheer with the rest of your guests as you kissed your groom. He would hide his heartbreak behind a smile.

           But today, he would let it consume him.

[beginning-end-and-middle-earth]

Wake-Up Call

              You had always hated bees. Ever since you’d climbed a tree with a hive in it as a child, you’d been deathly afraid of them, avoiding them at all costs. It had earned you many taunts and embarrassing moments, but you couldn’t help it. Bees just made you panic.

               Which was why you hated Beorn’s house.

               You were afraid of normal-sized bees, which were rather tiny. But these bees were giant—even larger than your hand. You found yourself constantly shaking ever so slightly, and the rest of the Company seemed to notice how jumpy you were. You hadn’t told them of your phobia; you wanted them to think of you as a warrior, not a ridiculous girl who was afraid of bugs that made honey. But the sight of those enormous stingers and the sound of those enormous wings made shivers dance up and down your spine. You were hardly even able to sleep. Finally, exhaustion took over.

               The next morning, you felt something tickling your nose. You opened your eyes and came face to face with a giant insect, which was standing on your face.

               Your shriek rivaled a Nazgul’s.

               The entire Company was suddenly awake. Kili jumped up, sword in hand, eyes still closed. “Whass happenin’?” he mumbled sleepily.

               “S-s-someone please get this thing off of me!” you cried.

               “Just shoo it away, lass,” Bofur said.

               You were shaking violently. Everyone was staring at you, except for the bee. It was oddly calm. You closed your eyes tightly as it crawled onto your forehead.

               “P-please,” you whimpered almost inaudibly. Bilbo waved the giant striped monstrosity away, and it flew away lazily.

               “Thank you,” you sighed gratefully. “I. Hate. Bees.”

               “Obviously,” Fili observed. “Maybe when we get to Erebor, I’ll just put a bee on your face. You’ll shriek so loud that Smaug won’t be able to handle the noise and he’ll just leave.” The Company laughed, and you cracked a smile. Fili winked at you. You rolled your eyes in response.

               Throughout the rest of your quest, your companions made constant, good-natured jokes about protecting you from the “black and yellow striped abominations,” as they’d started calling bees.