into the fire

27, she/they

[reclaimingerebor]

hi!! thank you for checking out my blog!!

i’m nat and i love to yap a lot, especially about my favorite characters. my main fandoms are tolkien and bbc merlin and my main ships are bagginshield and merthur. my inbox is always open for yapping about characters, shipping, theories, etc.

i’m also reclaiming_erebor on ao3 if you’d like to read some of my fics!

[asystolle]

THE LORD OF THE RINGS: THE RETURN OF THE KING (2003), dir. Peter Jackson

It is not our part to master all the tides of the world, but to do what is in us for the succour of those years wherein we are set, uprooting the evil in the fields that we know, so that those who live after may have clean earth to till. What weather they shall have is not ours to rule.

[reclaimingerebor]

for @merthurmicrofic | prompt stars | 100 words | ao3

Night brought something day could not, a world where Merlin and Arthur could be themselves, loving each other away from prying eyes and gossip. They liked to lay under the stars, bodies pressed against each other, sharing the same warmth.

The hours passed with much-needed kisses and laughter until they broke apart and rose, still hand in hand, Arthur starting to feel a little stiff. He would have to train harder the next day.

They walked a bit until they could see the castle in the distance. Arthur looked out at the city.

They had to get back to Camelot.

[permanentmochakisses]

Favorite Outifts → BBC Merlin [1/?]

[druidandpendragon]

merthur text posts pt2 .. materials from pinterest of course

part 1

[thorinds]

"Well in this case, that is true; moon runes can only be read by the light of a moon of the same shape and season as the day on which they were written." "These runes were written on a Midsummer’s Eve by the light of a crescent moon nearly two hundred years ago. It would seem you were meant to come to Rivendell. Fate is with you, Thorin Oakenshield; the same moon shines upon us tonight."

[reclaimingerebor]

i really want to know what leon was doing in season 1. did he become a knight between seasons 1 and 2 or was he around the whole time and he only became important enough to warrant screen time later?

[idkhowtomakethis]

I am genuinely pissed we rarely got development for the knights when all of them have fascinating stories to tell

Leon, who's been there since the beginning, helped fight the dragon, saved by the druids, probably immortal

Gwaine, a man who has discarded his noble title, and lived as a vagabond. We can infer that he and his sister aren't on speaking terms??? Why??? Also, he initially existed in the narrative to see the sides of Merlin Arthur didn't acknowledge/understand

Elyan, Gwen's BROTHER her BROTHER and we know next to nothing about all the running around he was supposedly doing in the first few seasons????

Percival, lost his entire family/everything he knew to the immortal army and it's literally never mentioned again. But he's so kind??? How did he pick up the sword, he's a random peasant??? What did he do??? He would have had a job. Hell he probably would have been married, engaged at the bare minimum at the time??? Like go writers give us nothing dxmdnxnm

Lancelot, knew about Merlin's magic, studied the sword as a orphan from a no name village, has a strict code of honor that immediately folds under pretty blue eyes

We were robbed of at least one episode where it focused on what the knights are up to while Arthur and Merlin fuck off doing whatever

[mayday-guilt]

When Thorin has exceptionally long and stressful days ruling the kingdom, he completely loses his appetite and refuses to eat the heavy, multi-course royal dinners. Bilbo knows exactly how to handle this. He dismisses all the servants from the private royal kitchen, rolls up his sleeves, and prepares a simple, perfect bowl of Shire potato soup with fresh herbs. He brings it to Thorin’s desk without saying a word. He doesn’t pressure Thorin to talk about politics. He just sits quietly nearby, paring an apple. The warmth of the soup, combined with the rhythmic, domestic sound of Bilbo’s knife, always coaxes Thorin out of his dark thoughts, allowing him to eat and finally relax

[draculas-secret-blog]

Lancelot: I’m in love with you…

Gwen: I’m in love with you too.. but what would Arthur do if he found out

Arthur and Merlin subplot:

[fandomabibliophobia]

Morgana

[epic-sorcerer]

Its actually so merciful we only get to see Merlin as his medieval self because he would be too powerful if he knew about therapy speak

[mayday-guilt]

The grand library of Erebor is spectacular, but it is built entirely of towering cold stone shelves and heavy iron ladders. To make it comfortable for Bilbo, who spends hours there researching, Thorin secretly coordinates with Bofur. One morning, Bilbo walks into the library and finds a newly constructed wooden platform in the quietest, sunniest corner. It has low wooden bookshelves made of sweet-smelling cedar, a small plush rug, and a perfectly sized green armchair. Thorin even had a small wooden step-stool made so Bilbo could reach the higher books without stretching. It becomes Bilbo’s favorite sanctuary, and Thorin often sneaks away from his throne room just to sit on the floor next to the green chair, resting his head against Bilbo's knee while the Hobbit reads

[reclaimingerebor]

for @morgwenmicrofic | prompt “you promised” | 100 words | ao3

“You’re marrying my brother? You promised me that you were mine.”

Gwen let the upset Morgana fall into her arms, stroking her hair as she breathed into Gwen’s dress.

“And you will always be mine,” Gwen said softly. “This marriage changes nothing. There is no love between Arthur and I, not like that. Arthur knows it and he thinks it’s a good idea too. I’m doing this to protect us. It will keep questions away from us, and away from him and Merlin.”

Morgana looked up into Gwen’s eyes, reassurance coloring her features. Gwen squeezed her tighter against her chest.

[druidandpendragon]

idk if these have been done but i got bored and made a fuck ton of merthur text posts

everything comes from the depths of pinterest

will post more … mwahaha

[amazonsarkany]

A little Pippin

[bakerharrystyles]

@merthurmicrofic prompt: bound Word count: 756

Arthur sat by the window in the physician’s chambers, one of Gaius’s heavy tomes detailing varieties of algae and their uses propped open and unread on his lap. The fire crackled easily in its grate, keeping out the cold and cloudless night from the room which had become like their sanctuary on the nights when Gaius was away with a patient. Arthur was watching Merlin, who was standing at Gaius’s workbench, cutting and grinding and mixing herbs, and muttering to himself all the while. The low murmuring voice, the rhythm of the knife on the bench, the quiet shuffle of boots against stone, were like a kind of music to him; the kind that young mothers and nursemaids used to lull fussy infants to sleep, and Arthur felt a warmth settle in his chest, akin to something like peace.

“Come here a moment,” he said suddenly, into the quiet; into the music. He shifted the book off his lap and his stomach swooped.

Merlin turned round, wiping off his hands on a rag. “Okay,” he said, coming over, “But we’ve got to be quick; I really do have to get these remedies done for Gaius,” and he swung his leg over Arthur’s lap.

Arthur accepted the kiss readily, but before Merlin could sink all the way down onto his thighs, Arthur gently pushed him off. “That’s not—I didn’t mean for that.”

“Oh,” Merlin said, looking not exactly put-out, but somewhere in its vicinity. He scrubbed a hand through his hair. “Well, you’ve been staring at me all night; I thought you maybe wanted to have sex about it.”

“I have not been staring at you.”

Merlin just gave him a pitying sort of look and sat down beside him. Arthur huffed, then he took out from under his thigh, from where it had been burning him, a piece of fine, ivory silk, slightly crinkled from shoving it under himself to keep from bringing it out and toying with it whenever his hands felt too idle.

Merlin looked down at it. “What—"

“I know we can’t—officially speaking, of course—we can’t be—betrothed. Officially. But. I thought—well.” He looked down at the silk, where he was twisting it in his clammy hands. The room was unnaturally quiet; Arthur felt he could hear his own heartbeat thudding in his ears. He looked up to see whether his offer, which had not really been so much an offer as it had been a nauseating expulsion of the terrible longing in him, with his heart laid bare beside it, would be laughed at or politely rejected, and instead was met with a glassy-eyed and brilliant smile.

“You soft bastard. I knew you liked having me around,” Merlin said, thickly.

“No. Why would you think that?”

“Really? ‘Cause it sounded like you were asking me to marry you or something.”

“Don’t be stupid.”

Merlin hummed. Then he held out his hand. “So, how does this work, then?”

“Um,” Arthur said, and fumbled with the silk, which now bore some dark patches from his sweaty grip. He reached out his own hand and took Merlin’s, then with trembling fingers wound the fabric round their joined hands. “Help me tie it,” he said, and they each with their free hand looped the silk into a small knot.

Arthur didn’t know what to do then. There was a buzzing in him. He had only thought ahead as far as getting the question out of him, and now that he had, and their hands like their lives were bound together, he felt his faculties leave him; all he could do was sit and smile at the man across from him, and try to bear the love which was almost unbearable. He felt he should say something, choke out something earnest or significant, but his tongue was too thick for his mouth, and kept him from garbling out whatever saccharine or foolish nonsense he felt looking at the loved face across from him. It hardly mattered. They were saying it instead with their eyes. Arthur hoped his were conveying with a dignified and manly sort of composition that what he wanted most of all was to have Merlin beside him for the rest of his life, but they were a bit wet. Then Merlin said it with his mouth. Not with words, but with the hard press of his lips against Arthur’s. The knot was loose, and the silk fell away as they gripped each other.

The remedies could wait until morning.