Notes: Fluff, period pain, period thoughts, reassurance, kisses, crying, emotional reader, gentle Cayde, Cayde is loud to make you feel better.
Synopsis: Cayde reassures you how much he loves you when you’re feeling those little nagging voices on your period.
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When Cayde walked through the door of the apartment, he definitely didn’t expect you to be sitting on the kitchen island, wrapped in a blanket, staring out the window with tears in your eyes like some kind of zombie. You didn’t even move when he closed the door or set his gear down, lost in your own thoughts and the grinding pain in your abdomen.
“Honey? You alright?” He looked half frightened, though more concerned as he approached you and took your hand, wiping away your tears with his free hand. The cold metal that was his skin finally snapped you out of whatever spiral you were in and your eyes met his.
“Can you tell me you love me?” The faint whisper fell upon his processors and his eyes widened before he drew you into a tight embrace and you finally started to sob.
“Hey now, what’s that supposed to mean, what happened?” He tried to wrack his brain to think of all the possible things he had done wrong for it to come this far, but nothing clicked. It wasn’t until his eyes flicked over the calendar that he finally realized.
“Oh sweetheart… com’on. Sit.” He all but picked you up and set you on the couch before sitting beside you.
“Look, I just get super emotional around this time, you know?” Your head was downturned, looking at the wooden floor of your apartment. Your eyes were pink and glossy with unfallen tears and yet you knew, deep down, that you were loved. That you were cared for. That Cayde would die for you. So why did you feel like this? Why did these tiny little voices feel so lonely? Was it truly so selfish to want to hear it again? To hear that he loved you?
“It’s... all these hormones, or something.”
“Do you doubt that I love you?” His voice was soft, and there was a smile on his face like he was falling in love with you all over again. He couldn’t help but think how you looked so vulnerable with your head on his shoulder where the two of you sat together and in that moment, he wanted to keep you two just like this.
Your voice peaked, tears starting to flow freely again as you suddenly thought of a world without him next to you as he spoke. “No, of course not!” You wrapped your arm around his and sought to hide your face and tears from him.
“I just… I need to hear it again. It helps. I don’t know why, but it does.” Your muffled voice was sniffling, high and soft.
A smile of adoration crossed his face, how did he get to be so lucky? To care for you wholly and completely as he did now? You were so… cute, even now, and it made him want to fly.
Gently, he placed his hand on the top of your head, waiting to gain your attention again when you finally lifted your tear stained face from the crook of his arm. Your eyes were red now, and they stung a bit, your stuffy nose sniffling. You were definitely emotional, on the verge of another wave of fresh tears if another bad thought crossed your mind.
“You want some reassurance? How’s this: I. Love. You.” He grasped your face between each hand with soft fingers as he interspersed quick kisses in between each word. Your nose, your cheeks, your lips, forehead and chin were promptly covered in his kisses as he kept repeating the same three words with each attack of his lips.
“I love you, I love you, I love you-“
It quickly sent you into a fit of teary giggles, the tickling sensation of his reassuring gestures as your heart was uplifted almost immediately.
“God, I love you so much, I could shout it from the rooftops! The top of the tower, and from skyscrapers! Or space!” He raised himself from his seat with a huge grin.
“I love my wife!” His loud voice carried through your living room, arms outstretched like he was indeed proclaiming it to the world and to any who would listen.
“Do you hear me? I love! My! Wife!” He grew louder, actually moving to open a window to scream it again to the neighbors as you sat laughing hysterically with more tears running down your face, happy this time.
Hey Y’all! The first chapter of the Bullet Train fic is DONE but I haven’t POSTED it yet. (It clocks in at around 6k words!)
I’m doing some editing on it right now, and working on the second chapter too. I’m hoping to get three chapters in before I post the first one so I have a little bit of backlog for when school starts! (All my chapters are going to try and hit the 5k word mark minimum)
Thanks for understanding, I’ll be posting a short preview for the first chapter soon!
Isildur comforting you after you are rejected from the Sea Guard.
Isildur x gn!Reader
Notes: Feelings of sadness, Confessions of love, Romance
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The noise of the square wasn’t loud enough to muffle Islidurs cries for you, the Aegean blue uniform he wore made him easily distinguishable from the other souls that walked through the square, his head on a swivel as he climbed the stairs up to the pillars you were situated behind. You tried to avoid his gaze, curling your head into knees and arms, maybe if he didn’t see your face he would leave.
He didn’t.
You could hear his footsteps stop in front of you, the rustling of fabric as he knelt to your eye level, a gentle hand resting on your shoulder to pull your head up from the depth of your arms. The expression on his face was one of concern and empathy as he sighed.
“I’ve been looking everywhere for you, you know. Berek went half mad when you ran off, I think he likes you more than me!” He joked, a grin creeping its way onto his face at his attempt to make you smile.
When you didn’t reciprocate, his face fell again. Clearly this was something more serious and for once, he didn’t quite know what to say.
“My father told me what happened… Are- Are you alright?”
You couldn’t help but replay the event in your head, the excitement you had felt as you waited for the test to begin, the determination that overtook you. The nervousness that you had felt like seasickness as you waited for the results from the Sail-Master, his face cold and emotionless as he failed to speak your name among the recruits who had passed.
Years of practice and ambition shattered in moments. You had run off as soon as you knew you hadn’t made it. Your feet carrying you to the square outside the Citadel, hoping to be lost in the crowd.
“We were supposed to be on the Sea Guard together, Isil. I didn’t even get into the training regiment… I’m a failure.” Your voice was thick with tears, dry from your crying as the color of embarrassment tinted your cheeks to have Isildur see you like this. You felt humiliated and less than adequate as you sat against the pillars of the square.
Isildur’s face twisted with concern, his brow knit with it. “Hey, no no, you’re not a failure! No… You’re amazing, and talented, I’ve heard you sing! And you’re not a half bad dancer, either.” He chuckled, taking your wrists in his hands.
This garnered a single chuckle from you, though it sounded more like a scoff.
“Dancing isn’t getting me onto the Sea Guard. We always promised to do everything together, and here I am holding us back!” You could feel tears well in your eyes again, all the emotions flooding back despite your efforts to curb them.
Isildur hung his head with a solemn purse of his lips before a sly smile and a mischievous grin overtook his stoic face.
“Well… You are right, we did say we would do everything together, didn’t we? I suppose the only thing for me to do is defer.”
This snapped you out of your sorrows, you couldn’t have heard him right. Defer? After everything he had worked for? Gone for you?
“Isil you can’t! Not for me. What would your father think?”
“I don’t care what he thinks! We made a promise when we said that and I’m not going to break it for the Sea Guard. You’re worth more than all the salt in the sea to me, Y/N.”
He lifted a hand up to your face, a calloused but gentle thumb wiping away the remainder of your tears as a smile crept onto your face.
“What would we even do?” You asked, the thought of doing everything with Isildur now running wild in your mind.
“We could do anything we wanted! We don’t even have to stay in Númenor.” He suggested, the same mischievous glint in his eyes as before.
You grinned, mirroring his mischievous gleam.
“We could go west?” You knew it had been his ambition for a while, and the light that rose to his face was worth a thousand rejections from the Sea Guard. A laugh escaped your lips as he grasped your shoulders before bringing you into a warm embrace.
You blacked out amidst the chaos of the attack on New Mombasa only to wake up to fire and death all around you, alone and scared. When you run into a strong and silent ODST, hope is rekindled.
The Rookie x gn!Reader
Notes: a little angst, Hurt/Comfort, inaccurate Halo firearm references, I don’t know how guns work ok? Mostly silent rookie, injuries, mentions of death, graphic depictions of violence, reader gets a nickname, protective!rookie.
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You were right in the middle of the scramble of people when it hit, when the screams grew to a cacophony that drowned out all coherent thought and rationality and the hellfire started to reign from above. When the Covenant attacked your city. Their ships roared through the atmosphere, covering the sun and bringing death and destruction with them, that’s when the crowds really started.
People turned on one another in the blink of an eye, looters and lowlifes crawled out of their holes. No comradery was found within the city, it was everyone for themselves it seemed. That is where you found yourself, almost trampled beneath the feet of others as they scattered like ants in a storm. You found yourself an adjacent alleyway and slipped between the buildings, hoping to escape the destruction or at least to catch your breath and gather your thoughts.
“What the hell, you’d think people would want to band together in a time like this.” You thought to yourself, even though you knew it was a fantasy, something only dreamed about. With a sigh you leaned against the alley wall, watching people rush by just outside, hurried footsteps and muffled cries echoing through the small space you found yourself in.
The peace was, unfortunately, momentary as shuffling footsteps sounded behind you and something struck you from behind, the world darkening around you as the sounds of gunfire and screams and the city’s voice echoed in your ears.
With a gasp and a fit of coughing, you regained consciousness. A dull ache settled in your head, making it hard for your eyes to focus as your muscles strained to lift your head up. There was silence now, so utterly terrifying and that it almost made you question whether the attack had actually happened. Though of course it had, the distant smoke that had caused you to cough was evident and the alleyway around you was littered with debris.
How long had you been out?
The sky spoke to you as you looked upwards, the few tiny stars peeking out from behind the mass of clouds and smoke. Nighttime. At least six hours then.
What had you been hit with?
It was so unexpected. Gently, your hand felt the spot on the back of your head, crusty with a bit of dried blood and painful to the touch, you drew your hand away. A hiss left your lips, both mind and body were sore and begging for rest even now, as you lay propped against a wall for support.
Your hands roamed your sides, checking for injuries and items in your pockets and— your bag was gone. So was your phone and keys and wallet and everything else of value.
Mugged. You had been knocked unconscious and mugged in the middle of a city-wide— no, planet-wide crisis.
“That’s just great…” Your dry voice also felt strained, letting out another fit of coughing as you spoke to the empty city, like it would speak back.
What horrors lay at the exit to the relatively safe alleyway you were in now? The faint glow of fire light could be seen from its end, and as your feet took one step after the other, hand still attached to the wall to steady your trembling body, you laid eyes on your once proud city now brought low.
No one could be seen anywhere, nothing moved, save the wind. Cars were left in the middle of the road, some beeping incessantly, others completely wrecked and totaled. Rubble lay every which way, glass and metal and other objects littered the street and fire consumed some of the buildings.
The whole place felt like some kind of ghost town. The sun having set on the eerie streets, casting shadows like monsters in your peripheral vision. Cautiously, you stepped out and onto the open street, a slight limp in your aching legs as they adjusted to walking after hours of being at a strange angle.
Slowly making your way down the street, you kept to the sides of the buildings and in the shadows, hoping not to be seen in case anything was around you. This proved a successful tactic as faint sounds of gunfire started to grow nearer. Something was shooting at something, which meant some kind of life, maybe even survivors! You didn’t want to put yourself in danger based on a hunch or the hope of finding allies, so you moved ever closer but as silently as you could and as carefully, lifting your steps where there was glass or rubble so as to make as little noise as possible. The last thing you wanted was to draw attention to yourself.
Unfortunately for you, the nearby signs began to light up around you as you walked, the automated voice of the city ringing around you.
“Please walk. Please walk.” It’s once welcoming voice was anything but in this moment, the signs pointing towards the gunfire down distant streets. For a brief moment it seemed like the city voice was trying to guide you somewhere, but that was surely absurd, right?
“Shhh! Shush! Please!” You spoke to it, tempted to kick the signs to get them to be quiet. You could hear the gunfire cease for a moment before resuming, now even closer
You didn’t get the chance to try and hush the loud superintendent before there was a grunt and guttural growl sounding behind you, the heat of a blaster nearly hitting you in the shoulder. There was a small creature behind you, a Covenant grunt. Well, small was definitely not accurate as it was half the size of yourself, but it was smaller than the absolutely massive brute that was approaching you from across the street.
With a scream you scrambled backwards, almost tripping over debris as you ran towards an empty building, weaving through the rubble and streets to avoid getting shot. The blaster shots made scorching marks where they hit, the sound echoing in your ears as you sprinted towards an empty building, slamming your hand onto the keypad to open the door. The metal slid on its railings but no safety was found as a Jackal stood on the other side of the door, long sniper rifle in hand, a wicked looking piece of tech that it slammed into your torso as soon as it saw you.
The hit sent you doubling over and crumbling back onto your ribs, the wind being ripped from your lungs and your thoughts becoming hazy from the shock. A muffled cry was all that could escape your lips as you stared death in the face, the Jackal aiming his long weapon at your head.
As tears sprung into your eyes, you closed them to spare yourself of the imagery of your death. A shot rang out, echoing in your ears as you felt blood splatter onto you. For a second you thought it was your own until you realized it wasn’t a Covenant weapon you heard as you opened your eyes to see the Jackal slumped onto the concrete, its blood and brains pooling around its body in a sticky, viscous mess.
More shots rang out as quick as it took you to blink and the Brute and Grunt were soon to follow the Jackal to the grave, taken out with precise shots, uncanny accuracy to their heads and weak spots in their armor as they cried out in agony and rage. You lay curled onto the ground, gasping for air with shuddering breath as heavy footsteps grew ever closer until a shadow looked over you. It was blurry as it went in and out of focus until you felt strong, armored hands curl around your underarms and shoulders and lift you upwards into a sitting position against an armored chest plate. The sensation was cold, though there was a hint of warmth poking through the un-armored sections of your mystery man.
There wasn’t much fight in you, but you tried to struggle nonetheless, only managing a slight wiggle and a whimper as you were held, trying to muffle your cries of pain as your eyes were blinded by the flashes of white that your broken body summoned as it moved.
“Shh” you heard someone shushing you, and maybe even a muttered “It’s alright, hold still.” But you couldn’t be sure, it was so quiet and your head was throbbing. You blinked your eyes into focus to see a soldier before you, one wearing ODST armor, his helmet glazed over to hide his face. You quickly realized that this was a friend. Someone here to save you.
The sight made your heart leap, and all the fight in you vanished like smoke. You began to settle into the man’s armored arms, all panic leaving you as the adrenaline started to dwindle and left your limbs feeling like lead pinned to your body.
Air fought in your throat and you coughed violently, feeling something dribble down your bottom lip as your ribs screamed in pain, broken bones rubbing together. It was blood, you saw, as it dripped onto your open hand, dark crimson in the city's dimly lit atmosphere. Another whimper followed the fit as you slumped weakly onto the body of the trooper. He didn’t make any move to stop you, in fact he shifted a bit so none of his armor poked uncomfortably into your skin.
“Here.” Another eerily quiet and muffled whisper from the soldier as he pulled something from his belt and offered it to you. It was a white box with a Red Cross on its front, a medical kit. He made a noise like a question, asking for consent to look over your wounds so as not to cause you unwanted pain.
Your head nodded wearily, slowly and heavily as he opened the pack and administered the kit. It only took a few seconds before you started to feel much better, your breath returning to your body and your ribs no longer feeling like they had been split in half by the Jackal. You could take full breaths, though shaky, and your head began to clear from its haze. You sat there against the ODST’s armored form for a few moments longer, like you both needed a rest after the firefight, something he had probably been in the middle of for much longer than you had.
You found yourself shaking though; the near death experience- more than once- was taking its toll on your mental state. You reached up and wiped off the Covenant blood from your face, a shuddering breath leaving your lips as you looked at it.
The ODST seemed to take notice and repositioned himself around you, slowly you felt his hand rest on your shoulder and he held your bloody hand to lower it from your eyesight, deeming it not something you should stare too long at. It was almost like a hug, but not quite. There was more protectiveness in the action than perhaps comfort.
From what you knew of the ODST, they were regular humans, not Spartans. It probably explained why he was out of breath when you first saw him, his armor rising and falling quickly as his breath echoed in his helmet. Now he took such deep breaths that you could feel it as you sat against him, a steady rhythm that you soon began to mimic. His arms now rested on his thighs, his legs crossed as you sat in the middle of them, like a gentle cocoon of armor, your back pressed against his chest as you both returned into silence.
Once again the city settled into its quiet and almost peaceful state as you two sat against a crumbled building wall, strangers so calm despite all the chaos around them. The bodies that littered the streets also mimicked the calm, like they were simply sleeping, destined to wake up when the sun rose; the darkness hiding the blood that painted both armor and skin. It was so morbid to think about, but you were still somewhat in shock. With a hum you looked up at the ODST, grabbing his attention with a gentle tap against his armor. He looked down at you, the tilt in his head implying curiosity. You could feel tears rise in your eyes.
“Thank you, for saving my life. I’d be dead if it weren’t for you.” Your voice was a whisper, never had you been so thankful in that moment to have been spared a gruesome death.
“Do you have a name? Something I can call you?”
There was a silence that formed between you, the man thinking before his quiet voice gave you an answer, gentle and almost comforting though it still held the gruffness of a soldier. He was probably trying to seem less intimidating in the presence of a civilian.
“Rookie.”
You repeated it back to him, thinking it sort of odd and probably not his real name. Still, a code name was better than nothing in your opinion. He didn’t ask for your name though, but you caught him muttering under his breath. “So how’d you end up stuck here, Civi?”
You almost missed it, it took your brain a couple seconds to decipher what he was saying before you actually caught it.
“Oh. Someone- uh, knocked me unconscious. Stole all my things and then… left me for dead… in an alleyway…” You could feel the tears threaten to spill over, warm and blurry. You’d had a picture of your family in your wallet. Now none of them knew where you were or that you were alive. You had completely missed the evacuation…
“My family… I don’t know if they even got out or not. They probably assume I’m long dead if they did.” Wide eyes glistened with un-wept tears, the horrible realization finally setting in as you thought about all the events leading up to this moment.
Rookies arms seemed to tighten around you as you finally wept, his posture more alert than before and you could hear him better, his muffled voice carrying out more in a show of confidence.
Notes: Romance, No Songs, Themes of Manipulation, Violence, Unwanted Romantic Advances, Depictions of Blood, Loose Plot, and Heavy Canon Divergence (Canon? Who’s she?.) Seriously, there's like… no RoP canon here. It’s almost all freeform. (It’s so I can add in references.)
Soooooo... Eight months. Let's just say my life got immensely busy, and is likely to get busier... I should be a bit better now, and working on some form of schedule, but I can't promise it'll be quick. I just got over some huge writer's block and burn out.
{Chapter Three}
Your daily walk into the town was uneventful as you waited for Celebrimbor to return later that evening as he said he would. The sky was gray, only small rays of sunlight breaking through over the sea as you crossed the bridge that connected your land with the open space that belonged to the village. It was definitely one of those days that signals rain for later, but you didn’t mind. It meant you could curl up with a good book and some hot tea and watch as it fell from above.
Rain was soothing in your mind, a chance for growth to come from it, new life and small bugs and oh the smell. The smell of fresh rainfall was something you treasured dearly, your father being one to take you out afterwards and let you run to your heart's content, always coming back muddy and wet from jumping in puddles but he couldn’t care less as long as it made you happy.
So you walked one foot after the other, happy to dwell on your thoughts as you approached the marketplace, only a few people walking around you, no doubt grabbing one last thing before the sky opened its arms to let the water fall. Many of the open stands were already closed, the eery crack of thunder ringing in the far off distance.
As you started to converse with one of the shopkeepers, looking to purchase some new tea for your aforementioned rain watching, you could hear raised voices from one of the shops closest to you. It was tempting to try and see what was happening, but you knew people in this village were nosy enough without you needing to add to their ranks, so you turned back to browse the tea selections; you continued until the raised voices became shouts and curses, then you heard the sound of glass shattering and could ignore it no longer, setting a quick pace towards the apothecary and the stand that stood before it.
What you set your eyes on immediately ignited a flame in your chest, for three men stood above the crumpled form of an Elven figure, a crate full of herbs and now broken bottles lay beside him, and you could see he was injured; the crimson color leaking from his hands where he had fallen onto his crushed wares upon the steps of the apothecary.
As he lifted his head, you could put a name to the pained expression on his face. Thondir, an Elven herbalist who you had met a few times on the road going to and from the village. He didn’t live close by, but since this was the closest village for a good long while, he came every so often to sell elixirs and herbs. He was a sweet boy, you thought, and undeserving of such treatment.
The men were jeering at him as you advanced, and one placed a quick kick to his side as he was staggering to rise, only sending him back down with a crunch of glass and groan.
“Hey!” The words left your lips in a scream, furious you elbowed your way through the three men and placed yourself between them and Thondir, gently helping him to his feet as he fought to hold onto a shred of his dignity despite the blood falling from his hands and the bruising that was no doubt blooming onto his ribs.
“Have you nothing better to do with your sorry lives? How dare you treat another person with such contempt, what has he done to warrant such violent behavior?” You stood as a shield between the Elf and the Men, face red hot with anger as you spoke.
The one who seemed to be the instigator, the one who had kicked Throndir, stepped closer to you, aiming to intimidate you though you stood your ground.
“Why do you care so much, woman, Hm? Because your bastard of a father is an elf? This freak is putting my brother out of business because of whatever witchcraft he sells. You would defend him while he destroys my family’s livelihood?” The man growled, and you could see now the two other men who stood with him. The owners of the apothecary on who’s steps you stood. Typical.
With a fighting glint in your eye you grinned, mocking and mischievous. “Well maybe if your brother was anywhere decent with healing remedies he wouldn’t be so threatened by the competition. But he’s not, so clearly you feel like sabotage is a good moral to have on your compass.”
“Why you little-“ The man grabbed the front of your shirt and cloak, pushing you against the store wall behind you, effectively trapping you there. The force threw your head back against the wall and you knew you would have some kind of headache tomorrow. With a methodical motion, he drew a knife from inside his coat, gleaming steel with a bronze hilt. He held it to your throat and all you could do was let out a shuddering breath and wait for the feeling of cold steel slicing your skin, Thondir injured and unable to help against the two men who saw it fit to restrain him.
Only lucky for you the final motion never came. Instead you heard the sound of a sword being unsheathed and saw its blade being placed against the man’s neck.
“Now what’s this here? Three stupid brutes against a woman and an injured elf? That is highly unfair I’d say. Why don’t you let the girl down before my sword makes its home in your head.”
The feelings that swarmed within you were some of the most conflicting you’d ever felt, though you supposed that Halbrand showing up to your aid was rather confusing in its own way. You hated the man, but here he was, sword pressed into the neck of your attacker with one arm firm to his back and a fire in his eyes like you’d never seen before.
“Thondir too, you sorry excuses of men.”
He waved his sword toward the brother and his associate, who promptly did as they were told.
“Cowards!” The man holding you slowly but surely released you, his slow motions merely a facade as he quickly placed an elbow into Halbrands ribs, turning with knife in hand towards the swordsman and making a wild slashing motion in an attempt to stave off whatever injuries he thought he would receive.
Halbrand grunted, bringing his arm up to protect his face before catching the man’s knife hand with his own and smashing his head in with the hilt of his sword. The man crumbled like a sack of potatoes as you sat on the stone steps, trying to catch your breath from the whole ordeal. Once you knew the man was alive by the steady rise and fall of his chest, you turned to look at Thondir’s injuries with gentle hands.
“I’ll be fine Miss (Y/N), my pride is more injured than my body if I am to be honest.” The Elf spoke with a shrug as you offered him your handkerchief for his hands. He looked undecided for a moment, but took it anyway, thankful for the gesture.
“And thank you, Halbrand.” He gave a respectful nod and carried on his way, not wanting any more humiliation for the day.
This left only you and Halbrand, who sheathed his sword and offered you his hand. There was reluctance as you took it and he hauled you upwards and onto your feet with a hiss, thankfully letting go after that. You would have written off the hiss through his teeth as perhaps soreness or strain of some kind had your hand not come away covered with his blood. He was injured.
“You’re injured.” You voiced your thoughts, looking at your hand before showing him.
“Ah. Nothing too bad. I’ve definitely had worse, dear (Y/N).”
There was that word again. You didn’t like it, but you didn’t think he could help it. It might as well have been engraved into his vocabulary. With a sigh you gently grabbed his arm and pulled back his sleeve. He was right, the wound wasn’t as bad as you had thought, rather shallow, but bleeding profusely all the same, the red liquid dripping down his fingers and pooling at his feet.
“Come on, there’s some herbal remedies at my cottage. A… repayment for tonight.” You chose your words carefully, not really wanting to thank him for rescuing you, but it also felt wrong to completely dismiss him, no matter how much you didn’t like him.
“Ah, thank you.” Halbrand accepted the invitation and the two of you made your way back to the seaside cottage, the wind piercing through your clothes as those storm clouds were practically on top of the coast now. You could feel the start of the rain, tiny droplets landing on your face and hair as you made your way to the door.
Starting a fire wasn’t hard, the forge was always ready to be lit and soon you had a decent amount of light and warmth as you grabbed the box of herbs and other healing materials your father kept in the house.
These were not like the things the apothecary sold. No, these were elvish remedies, Celebrimbor having taught you the basics and then Thondir a bit more when he could. You took a cloth and dipped it in some water, gabbing a roll of bandages and a tiny jar of salve that desperately needed to be refilled.
“That elf tonight, you knew his name.” Your words left like a half formed thought, not really implying anything, more of an observation of Halbrands character.
“Yes, Thondir. I’ve met him before. I’d like to say I’m an Elf friend, just as you are.” Halbrand seemed unresponsive to the stinging of his wound being cleaned, his eyes locked onto the forge fire.
“I’ll be honest I didn’t think you cared so much.” Your voice was a whisper, realizing now what an accusation it was once you said it.
There was a huff that came from the man, a scoff as he shook his head lightly.
“You never liked me anyways, though I can’t say why so I’ll ask. Why? It’s not wrong to help elves, that’s what I’m doing with your father. That's what you do with Arondir, how is it different?”
This left you in stunned silence. He was right, at its core there was no difference. Had you been so blind this whole time? He had saved you, saved Thondir.
“I- I’m sorry. No, you’re right, it’s not different.” Your fingers began to apply the salve on his open wound, eye contact would make you feel more embarrassed so you focused on his arm.
“This feud between the races, it needs to end. I want to help it end.” His voice was quiet, gentle almost. His words were so confident, you believed them in a heartbeat. Had you two been so similar all this time?
Having applied the salve, you moved to bandage his arm, tying it together securely before making sure everything was in order.
“Well…” You cleared your throat. “That’s that.” You moved to stand, Halbrand following, his eyes looking over your handiwork.
“Thank you.” He said simply, a smile on his face that you couldn’t quite place. The two of you stood in silence that managed to grow slightly more uncomfortable with each passing second until Halbrand lowered his eyes, perhaps in embarrassment, you couldn’t tell. With a nod of his head he moved to leave, pulling his cloak over his head. “Until next time, (Y/N).” And with that he trudged out into the rain, leaving you to watch his form disappear into the dark of night.
With a sigh you reached out to feel the rain fall, trying to compare notes in your head as to what had just happened tonight. You didn’t like Halbrand or Waldreg. There was something off about them, but you didn’t know what. But now Halbrand shared your opinions on Elves? Hadn’t he proven as much by saving you and Thondir from possible death tonight?
Your thoughts were muddled, mixed emotions trying to root themselves into your subconscious. You needed sleep. You had just begun to shut the door when a blurry figure tore its way onto the beach, huge and looming, your first thought was some kind of monster until it whinnied.
“Berek?!” You found yourself rushing out into the rain, leaving the open door forgotten as you looked for your father atop your horse's back until you realized he wasn’t there. Panic flooded your veins and you tightened your grip on the horses reins to calm him down and get him to focus on you as you spoke.
“Berek, where is father? Where is he? Can you take me to him?” Berek was frantic, hooves refusing to stay still atop the sand as you shimmied your way onto his back, letting the horse have some control over your directional course before he sped off down the beach and into the forest, wind screaming in your ears and you hood refusing to stay on your head.
Berek had some energy out of pure desperation, but once it was spent, you were in a part of the forest you didn’t recognize. It was unbearably cold, unusually so for summer rain; you could see your breath as you shuddered, white and frigid as you exhaled. The lump on the back of your head throbbed as you did so, the cold seeming to isolate it.
Something was not right here. As you took one step after another, the trees seemed to cave in around you, slow and creaking like they meant to swallow you whole and never let you see the light of day. The road before you, however dark, seemed to stretch out as far as you could see; an endless strip that made you dizzy to look at. It was like the forest itself was fighting you. Magic forests were not unheard of, though incredibly rare. If you had stumbled into one, there was no guarantee you would ever get out again. Not without help of some kind.
As terrifying as the thought was, you focused on one thing: finding your father. Truly, that was the only thing on your mind, the only thing that mattered to you. And so you continued onward until you started to see the tiny flecks of snow that flew on the wind, pooling onto the pathway until it lay like a white sheet over the ground.
You drew your cloak closer to yourself and continued onward against the bitter cold, thinking only of your father and whether he was alright. You willed him to be alright, to be safe. You prayed for it from the very depths of your soul, it consumed you until Berek’s sure footing led you to the iron gates of a dark Castle blanketed in snow and frost. What was something like this doing all the way out here? The lightning that struck behind the sky illuminated the sharp architecture of the structure, gothic in nature. It was beautiful in a dark and forbidding way, drawing you closer with curiosity.
Shutting the gates with a creek that was quickly drowned out by the wind, you led Berek into an overhang by the front steps. The wind had somewhat died down since you had arrived, and you didn’t think he would be too uncomfortable if you were to leave him unattended for a bit.
“I’ll be back, okay? Stay here.” You spoke in a hushed tone before ascending the stone staircase that led up to the door.
With bated breath you tried the door handle, its brass figure of a sea serpent looked at you with eerie eyes, yet you were not swayed. You came here for answers and to find your father and you wouldn’t leave without them. With a deep inhale you steeled yourself and pushed against the door, hearing it creak open on its great hinges, sweeping snow into the marbled entryway as it followed your footsteps.
The echo sounded through the halls, followed by a quiet “Hello? Is anyone there?” As the door swung closed behind you, the wall sconces were lit, and a warm glow came from the hearth in the room adjacent to you. What magic was this? Had your father been here? You wandered further and further into the Castle, gentle footsteps echoing softly as you ascended the wide staircase that led up to the second floor.
Despite its worn appearance, the whole place was still very ornate, filigree and complex designs crowding the space as overgrown plants dotted the hallway. Columns of stone and marble lined the walls, its golden accents long tarnished.
There were far too many rooms to reasonably check, and the hallway seemed to stretch the longer you walked. It wasn’t until you reached another, smaller set of stairs, that you heard a faint noise from the top of them, the soft light of torch-fire illuminating your way up like a trail of breadcrumbs. Straining your ears, you waited silently to hear the noise again, it had sounded like an eerie sound of the castle until it reached your ears again: The shuffle of a body against stone and metal, its weight banging on what sounded like a steel door.
Slowly, you climbed up the narrow stairs, bracing yourself for what you might see at the top. Unfortunately nothing could have prepared you for the sight of your father, his clothes a bit worse for wear, arms slung through the bars of his cold cell.
“Father!” Your voice cried before you had a chance to even think about what you were doing. Your hurried footsteps scrambled up the remainder of the stone stairs, hands clawing at the bars of his cell like they would bend to your very whims. Celebrimbor looked at you almost like you were a dream standing before him, his face weary and helpless until he felt the warm flesh of your fingers grasp his face through the bars.
“(Y/N)?” His voice was quiet, but instantly alert, now realizing that you were indeed standing before him and not some figment of his imagination.
“Yes, yes it’s me! Father are you alright? How on earth did you end up here?!” The words rushed from your mouth in a panic, looking at the bars for any sort of weakness.
“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you, I hardly believe it myself, dear…” His voice was still hushed, his eyes looking down the stairwell that you had come up from. “But that’s not important right now. Right now, you must leave! Leave before—“
He was abruptly caught off guard by something whisking past the both of you in the shadows, so quick and fierce that it blew out the already dwindling torch that sat bolted into the wall beside you, leaving only moonlight to illuminate the darkness. The gust ruffled your hair and clothing, bringing with it the smell of fur and hot breath muddled by a scent you knew all too well: Leather. Your heart leapt into your stomach at the sudden movement and you did all you could to stifle a cry of surprise and fear before a tall and shadowy figure stood opposite you further up the stairwell, only adding to its height .
All you could hear was its heavy breathing, the rush of blood in your ears as you drew closer to your father. He was trembling as his hand held yours.
“Why do you trespass here, girl?” He spoke, catching you even further off guard as you had expected him to just tear you limb from limb within a moment's notice and yet you were met with a question from a deep and imposing voice. Stealing yourself with a deep breath, you let go of your fathers hand to stand straight against the being, trying you best to show that you were not afraid despite that being the furthest thing from the truth at the moment.
“I- I came because my father was missing. Here I find him locked away as a prisoner, how dare you? What has he done wrong that you would treat him like some common thief?” Although your voice was much more confident than you had thought it would be, words still stuck in your throat.
A deep and guttural growl came from the creature and he took a step down the stairs, teeth bared as you could now see exactly what he was as he stepped into the moonlight.
Tall and while somewhat slender, the ripple of muscle could be seen, powerful arms and shoulders that could rip someone apart with a single grasp hung lanky at his side, and his lizard-like hands sprouted the slender claws to match, fingers still appearing to be slightly human in nature. His face was angular and long, but unplaceable to any one animal, his brow was like that of a wolf, while his ears seemed more opossum shaped. Overall, he looked like a gargoyle of some kind, long fur sprouting from his head and neck like a mane while scales gathered along his hands and feet. He had a pair of deep set eyes of the clearest blue, the only normal thing about him, and the only thing you could bear to look at as you gasped.
“Father? Your father was caught trespassing in a home that was not his own. Much like you are doing now.” The low, angry voice quieted only a little and you could hear the huff of breath exiting his lungs.
You struggled to even look at him, it only made speaking all the harder as a million questions ran through your mind.
“Is- Is that a- a threat? W-Would you lock up an innocent daughter trying to find her only parent?” Your voice was close to a whisper now, words feeling thick as you stared straight into the creature's blue eyes with terror before your voice seemed to speak up for you. “I demand you let him go!” Your voice, while still quiet, was indeed demanding; almost like a dare, and you knew immediately that you had spoken without thinking. The creature snarled, akin to a dog of some kind, and you could tell he was considering the option.
“You have no right to demand anything of me, Elf. Your kind deserves to rot in stone cells.”
Of course. It was too dark for him to see that you were not elven, your hair was covering your perfectly human ears like a godsend as your mind now rushed to formulate some sort of plan to rescue your father.
“Then— Then let me rot instead of my father… please.” You added on the last word with some hesitation, the ill formed plan in your head tacking itself together like a broken vase repaired by a child. The cloaked creature stilled for a moment, you could practically hear the gears turning in his head as his ears flattened before he made a move to close the gap between the two of you.
“You understand, Elf, that this is a permanent arrangement. Would you really trade yourself for him?” His eyes narrowed and you could see the tip of his nostrils flare.
“No, please! Let my daughter go, I beg of you.” Your father shoved against the bars of his cell, if only to gain his captor's attention. “Please, She is—!”
“Yes. I’ll do it.” You practically yelled, effectively cutting off your fathers words.
“Very well.” The creature moved swiftly to unlock the cell door as your father began to object and yanked your father up from off of the ground, much to your utter dismay of his methods.
“Why must you be so harsh— Don’t hurt him!” Yet your cries fell on deaf ears as you were unceremoniously shoved into the same cell and could only watch helplessly as both the creature and your father disappeared down the stairs, his protests and pleading sinking into your ears as you fought to retain your composure and confidence as the nature of the situation finally settled upon you. A prisoner. Forever. Never to see your father, or Arondir and Throndir ever again…
Tears pricked at the edges of your eyes, making the world blurry around you as you waited for your captor to return. If he ever would. Maybe he truly would leave you to rot in a cell…
Notes: Romance, No Songs, Themes of Manipulation, Unwanted Romantic Advances, Loose Plot, Themes of Prejudice, and Heavy Canon Divergence (Canon? Who’s she?) Seriously, there's like… no RoP canon here. It’s almost all freeform. (It’s so I can add in references.)
{Chapter One}
It was a crisp and clear morning in a tiny seaside village on the outskirts of the Kingdom of Numenor, where the sea never slept, the small and cozy waves always lapping at the edges of the docks they had built as people came and went throughout the day doing their busywork and running their shops.
It was a particularly crowded day at the market, where stalls and shops lined either side of the main road through the town. The sound of chattering and the ruckus of footsteps filled the air, along with the occasional horse passing through; not to mention the whispers of your own name that came not so quietly from the lips of some of the nosier townsfolk, though now that you noticed it, it seemed like all of the townsfolk were in on the rumors surrounding you.
Numenor had a great dislike for Elves ever since the rumor that an Elf had taken their King started to surface many years ago, and that spread like a tidal wave throughout the villages and smaller towns that lived within the Kingdom. Soon everyone believed that the Elves had something to do with their missing King, and though they couldn’t stop the Elves from living in Numenor, they shunned the race and did everything they could to make sure they were as unliked as possible.
It was a cruel thing for them to do without grounds, of course, but you really couldn’t care less, for you believed yourself to be completely in the right about your decisions to support the Elves.
A smug smile spread across your lips as you entered the bookstore, one of your favorite places to be anytime you didn’t have chores to do. The smell of leather and paper immediately hit your nose, the tall shelves stacked with scrolls and expertly bound books on all sorts of topics. You inhaled deeply, feeling at home within the maze of shelves as the owner of the shop caught your eye and smiled softly at you.
“Mae govannen, Arondir! I hope the morning has been pleasant to you so far.” You greeted the Sindarian Elf with a respectful nod of the head, pulling out the small, red leather book you had stashed away in your satchel.
“Apart from a few curious passersby, all has been quiet. It’s good to see you, (Y/N).” He greeted, his voice the same quiet tone it had always been. Pleasant, and befitting him. You held the book out to him and he took it with gentle hands, setting it on a pile of books waiting to be put on their proper shelves.
“I came to return the book you lent me.”
The Elf smiled, he was always grateful for your patronage as almost no other human ever came into his shop in this town simply because of his ears. But you had always been able to see past that, and so his shop was now like your second home at times. Arondir had his reservations about you at first, but over the years, you two had grown to be friends, even exchanging gifts on special occasions. He had been particularly fond of the cloak you had given him one year, with a wooden clasp that spoke to his Elven heritage, it was a gift he would treasure forever.
Likewise, he had gifted you a small bottle of healing tonic, one imbued with the Elven healing properties that other parts of the world whispered were unparalleled in their abilities. You were human, and thus susceptible to injury, so his gift seemed both caring and practical, exactly what you had come to expect from an Elf like Arondir, though maybe not in such an expensive and personal fashion. Not that you were complaining. The gesture had strengthened your bond as friends.
“Finished it already?” He spoke your name with a raise of his brow.
“Oh yes, it was just too lovely to put down! You know I enjoy stories of far off lands and adventure!”
“But you were just here three days ago.”
“I know, but can you blame me?”
“I suppose not… Perhaps you have also come to borrow another then?” Arondir’s voice was laced with a teasing tone, knowing you all too well in the years you had both lived in the town.
“Perhaps…” You couldn’t hide the grin that spread across your face, immediately making your way to one of the shelves that reached the height of the building in the back, climbing the ladder to one of the taller sections of books.
“I apologize, but I haven’t gotten anything new in a few weeks. It’s becoming more of a hassle to trade with the merchants here, the Sea Guard seems to be tightening their grip around the Elves…” You could hear the hint of disdain in his voice, completely warranted.
“Well… That’s the wonder of books Arondir, you can read them over and over again and never get tired of them.” You tried to not feed more into the topic of the Sea Guard, your eyes wandering over the shelves looking for that one particular book.
It took you all of half a second before your hand rested on the spine of one of the more worn books, lifting it from its perch and making your way down the ladder before you placed it in his hands.
“I’ll just borrow this one!”
“That was the book you took from me five days before this one.” Arondir chuckled, picking up the red leather book you had given him minutes ago. “Plus you’ve read it so many times before, do you never tire of it?”
“No, never. It is my favorite book here.” You had fond memories of this book, it being the first one you ever borrowed from Arondir.
There was a few seconds of silence where Arondir seemed to have been thinking something over, before he placed his hand on your shoulder.
“Well, if you like it so much, then you may keep it. As a gift.” He gave your shoulder a pat before returning to his desk to grab the pile of misplaced books, you hot on his heels behind him.
“Arondir, I couldn't possibly-“
“I insist. You’ve done far too much for me in the years I’ve known you, (Y/N). You’re a kindhearted woman, and I know many of my kin also appreciate when you visit them as well. I’ve heard them say as much.” He knows how the human townsfolk see you, and so his compliment was not one idly placed. You needed someone to remind you every now and then that you were appreciated.
“Sometimes I think you were sent for a reason with how much you have helped the Elves staying in Numenor since you first sailed here. What is that saying the Numenorians have? “The sea is always right?” He chuckles. “I believe they might be onto something in your case.”
With a smile, you bid Arondir goodbye and set off into the bustling market, nose in your borrowed, now owned, book. You had always liked this story, the one about the Human who fell in love with an Elf and how they devoted everything to each other. You had always found it so romantic, despite what everyone around you said. Who’s to say an Elf couldn’t love a Human? They’re both just people, living in the same world and breathing the same air.
You mainly read it for the romance, finding something so endearing about someone giving up everything for you, even eternal life… You sighed dreamily.
If only something like that could happen to you.
The back of your book suddenly hit something hard and shoved the pages into your face. You had walked into-
“Hello (Y/N), what have you got there?”
You could feel your face go a bit red with embarrassment from within the pages of the book as you withdrew from the proximity of the man you had run into, clearing your throat and regaining your composure as you looked up to meet him.
“A book, Halbrand. You know that one I was telling you about a few days ago?” There was a bit more venom in your voice than you cared to admit, but he deserved it in your eyes, practically having your father, Celebrimbor, wrapped around his charming finger. Enthralled by the swordsmith's knowledge and dexterity around his inventions. Were you jealous? Maybe, but there was just something that struck you as strange about the man, having shown up out of the blue a few years ago and suddenly he was a staple of the town.
Perhaps you could see why your father was working with Halbrand, from some odd perspective. He was knowledgeable, you would give him that, but you would never understand why he let Halbrands grubby minion follow along… You had heard the man's name a few times. Waldreg, an older human who seemed to be more wrapped around Halbrands finger than your father was, if that was even possible. Waldreg always cowered, like some lesser specimen while in the presence of Halbrand, and it was always awkward and pathetic to watch.
You didn’t know why Halbrand and Waldreg were aiming to get so close to your father in particular, but you didn’t like it. There were too many reasons, few of them good ones that you could think of. You had tried to see Halbrand in a better light, if only for your father's sake, but it was hard when he sometimes made you feel uncomfortable for no particular reason. Yet you cared too much for your father's wellbeing, for while the noble Elf might not have been your father by birth, he had cared for you long enough that there was no difference to you. He was a wonderful father, supportive and enthusiastic about your hobbies, just as you were about his. That’s the only reason you really tolerated Halbrand, because it made your father happy.
Halbrand laughed at your comment, an unassuming and charming laugh, and you sighed.
“Of course, the one with the Human and the Elven maiden! How could I forget? You know, half of the books in that library came from me, I’m glad I know your favorite one out of the lot.” There was a glint in his eye as he smiled at you, a wide smile that you were sure was meant to be charming. It kind of was, but you just had far too many preconceived notions about Halbrand to find it genuinely charming.
“You’re a smart girl with all the books and scrolls you read, despite what the townsfolk say. Would you want to take a break though? And have a drink with me? Take a break from all that reading, hm?” He wrapped his arm quickly and firmly around your shoulder, leading you towards the tavern that he frequented with his gaggle of men he sometimes went hunting with. Oh, the good times where he went off hunting for a few days and left you with blessed silence. He was quite the chatterbox.
“No- No Halbrand, I’m quite alright. Reading isn’t some chore for me, and I must return to my father.” It was a struggle escaping from his grasp, as he seemed intent on ignoring your wishes and dragging you along anyways, but after a bit more wiggling and straining, you wormed your way free and made a safe few feet of space between the two of you, Waldreg snickering behind you.
“You mean the knife-eared inventor who can’t even make a proper relic without the help of my Lord Halbrand?” He let out a wicked laugh, slapping his hand on his knee like he had made the most amusing quip of his life.
“How dare you call my father that!” You could feel your face heat up at the insult, almost tempted to hit him across the face with your book before Halbrand beat you to it, hitting Waldreg upside the head with the back of his hand.
The smaller man whimpered, groveling immediately before Halbrand. It made you pity him in the most uncaring way imaginable. It was like watching a rat, or something lower… How could someone value themselves so little?
“Do not speak such words again.” Halbrand spoke rather calmly, enough to make you question, if only for a second, your preconceived notions. Maybe it was just because it was said in front of you, but had you been less suspicious of Halbrand, you might have thought he cared as much for the elves as you did.
“I apologize for him. I won’t keep you any longer, (Y/N). Give your father my well wishes.” His goodbye was curt, and he seemed to be speaking through his teeth almost. It had you wanting to leave even more, you had never felt more awkward.
With a final glower towards Waldreg, and a suspicious look at Halbrand, you turned on your heel without so much as a goodbye, and made your way down the road towards home, following the sea and the sunset as it led you back to the house you had lived so long in, a cozy cottage that lie nestled behind the tree line that gave way to the smooth sands of the beaches and ocean beyond it. There was light to be seen in the window, sparking like a forge as smoke rose from the wide chimney, Celebrimbor working tirelessly on his newest project.
You opened the door into your house and was greeted by your father pacing in front of his forge, coals smoldering within its fiery depths. He held something in his hands, a black sword hilt, its blade broken, a strange sigil on the cross guard.
“I don’t know why you keep that thing around, you can’t melt it down, and we do not know if its blade can be remade.” You placed a hand on his shoulder, hopeful that he would set the weapon aside. It was his newest fixation, and you didn’t even know where he had found it!
“There’s something special about this hilt though, I can feel it. Why else would it be so stubborn to attempts at tampering with it?”
“Special? Strange maybe, but not special. Surely you have other things to do besides stare at that old hilt for hours on end? You haven’t been doing that the entire time I’ve been gone, have you?” You teased him, setting aside your new book on the shelf and hanging your satchel out of sight.
“You would find that amusing, wouldn’t you, (Y/N)?” The Elf’s voice returned your own tone, setting the blade down he went to stoke the coals in the forge.
“I was hoping to start heating the hilts metal tomorrow, but I fear I do not possess enough of the right material if it does indeed prove that that blade can be fixed. I am planning a journey to visit the Dwarves in hopes that they will resupply me.” He said little else on the subject, and that always left you with little light into his projects, so you resigned to just support him from afar by running extra errands and doing a bit more housework.
There were days where he would come to an impasse in his work, and so Halbrand would step in and use his knowledge to undo the situation, setting everything on track again. You hoped that with your father leaving for Khazad-dûm, Halbrand would have no reason to visit, but you knew that was wishful thinking…
There was a feeling of worry that crept into your head, but you had to trust that all would be well on your father's trip, so you saddled Berek, prepared Celebrimbor some rations for his trek, and sent him off on his journey with a heartfelt farewell, watching him and your beloved horse fade into the distance.
