#elenhest

[elenure]

Continued from here with @elenhest​

“Aye, I noticed,” Tauriel said, hissing through the pain as she pushed herself up to lean on her elbows. She was losing blood, and quickly, from the gash across her stomach. Not deep enough for any severe internal damage — but deep enough that the blood loss could be dangerous, if not taken care of quickly.

“I’ve a pack somewhere,” she mumbled, glancing around the clearing, filled with slain orcs from the ambush they aimed to surprise her with. “With bandages, everything I need. The strap was cut in the fight. I lost it. Do you see it?”

“No need.”

Ereinion knelt beside the woman, tearing his deep navy cloak to press it to the bleeding wound. He then removed his own pack from his shoulders and produced a roll of bandages, a needle, surgical thread, and a small flask of liquor. Threading the needle and sterilizing the point with the alcohol, he prepared to remove the blood-soaked cloth and begin stitching.

Though he knew the sterilization was likely pointless - elves did not need the extra measures to protect against infection - such things had become a habit after watching Elrond care for his mother for so long. An old poison had weakened her body and left her vulnerable to infection and when Ereinion had begun to train as a healer, he had also learned to be so careful.

“This may hurt,” he warned, his deep voice softened to attempt to provide comfort. “But I will be as quick and careful as I can. If you would like, the alcohol may help dull the pain.” He offered her the flask.

@elenhest​

[secondscn]

a familiar flash of red catches the corner of his eye. in an instant, he is at the bars of his cell, a smile already waiting on his lips as he calls out to her.    “  these conditions are getting worse by the day, you know!  ”    there is no hiding the good-natured tease in his voice, and does not try.    “  i’d have thought that a fine people such as yours wouldn’t stoop to so mistreating their prisoners...  ”    

the tone is light, but lurking beneath it is something else -- he is glad to see her. several days had passed since last she’d paid a visit, and while he’d told himself that she no doubt had duties to attend to -- and besides, he was not that in need of her company! -- in the end, he could not deny that he’d wondered if she had grown tired of their meetings. doubt had seeded itself unpleasantly in his mind, and the days had dragged on, even darker, without her. 

now she seems, to his eyes at least, to light up the dank cavern. but he does not tell her that, offering a cheeky grin instead.    “  is there somewhere i can lodge a formal complaint?  ”   //   @elenhest​ liked for a starter!

[laridaion]

elenhest – *plays peek-a-boo with the baby elf*

BRIGHT is the elfling’s laughter, here in the wide halls of their father. Legolas puts little hands over his eyes, poorly hiding from her view before bursting out in peals of giggles the moment she peeks forth from her own hands. 

On such a bright, sunny day, it is no wonder that the pair are in high spirits, even when the Elvenking is absent and the pair have naught but each other.

‘ Ne-ne! More, more! ‘ 

When she repeats the action he topples over on the soft furs they have laid out, squirming with mirth once she takes his hands to hide behind in turn, pressing them over her eyes. 

Legolas pauses, intrigued, and leans forth as his fingers map the expanse of her cheeks – he moves onto her nose, the curve of her jaw, the point of ears and the stray locks that escape her braids. Nothing can escape the curiosity of an elfling.

‘ Red, ‘ he says, having only just learned the word after hours spent pulling his sister’s hair.   

‘ Pretty, ne-ne, so pretty! ‘

[halconath-blog]

elenhest  frodo throws a snowball at azog

uwuking

@uruking

[notringwinner]

elenhest ;;

{ when what who where now how did what }

so like a VERY LONG TIME AGO there were a bunch of dragon blogs and bilbo was dating / about to marry a smaug but a couple of other people took interest in him so ancalagon the black gave him stonehenge to overrun smaug’s engagement ring, and then sauron was like ‘I already gave you a ring and it’s THE BEST ONE’ so the entire dash was betting on who would get bilbo’s hand in marriage and bilbo was like there’s a dragon the literal size of middle earth at my door what should I do and smaug was like idk

and also thorin was there being like hEY YOU CAN HAVE THE TREASURY but u kno, two big dragons and a godlike figure, um

@fataobstant will verify

[bowmaiiden-blog]

@elenhest ( continued from here ) :

The force with which Tilda runs to greet Tauriel has the elf nearly toppling over, yet she beams as she recognizes who it is that bestows upon her such a gift.  She must gently pry the little girl from her legs before kneeling down, pulling her into her arms for a proper hug.

“I missed you too, penneth,” she chuckles, one hand going to the back of Tilda’s head and stroking her hair.  “I apologize for my absence.  There have been urgent matters in Mirkwood of late, as I’m sure your Da knows well.  Doubtlessly you’ve had your own share of adventures here in Dale since we last met?”  

Tilda scrunches up her nose at Tauriel’s question. “Adventures — the one thing that I haven’t had,” she laments. “Da’s been so busy with the rebuilding that he hasn’t had much time to see me and Sigrid and Bain at all lately.”

At this she purses her lips. “So he’s — he’s got Mister Balin to act as our tutor,” Tilda says, scowling at the word like it’s a bad taste in her mouth. “Oh, but the lessons are so boring, Tau. I know Da and Mister Balin has our best interests at heart, but I’d much rather be listening to him tell us about old Dwarven tales than proper etiquette!”

[themirkwoodking]

✦ ✧ continued from x with @elenhest

The first question is ignored for the time being; instead he offers her the warmest of smiles, eyes matching with their own gentle nature before walking to the chest at the foot of his bed. It's a large and heavy chest, golden filigree decorating nearly every inch of it. On the top of it, where his hands brush over once he's knelt in front of it, are crimson and viridian gems that glitter and shine as he opens the box.

There isn't much inside of this beautifully decorated box; only organised shreds of fabric in multiple colours. Gold, silver, red, green —- they shimmer almost as much as the ornate gems on top of the chest itself did.

With the fabrics in hand, he shows them to the young Tauriel. "She will not be hurt; I'll be patching her up as I did for you just the other day. Do you remember the small bandage against your leg?"

[aelsell]

@elenhest plotted starter ♥

A green shimmer came from a few stones ahead of her, luminescent mushrooms that glowed strangely in the dark, but there was nothing else to see. A dripping sound from somewhere to her right reminded her of water, but there was nothing else to hear. No one came to her, no one heard her screams. But left in almost-silence, almost-darkness, was not what made her mind reel with desperation and fear. This dark was still more comforting than the fiery dragon-storms still haunting her dreams. No, she could feel her thoughts slip away, her mind became more clouded with every heartbeat as humanity became a concept harder to grasp. For there was nothing she could feel, except for that fear and... the cold.  It had evaporated from the stones around her had seeped through dampened clothes and broken skin right into her bones. How long had she been in this place? Where had she been before? Who had she been before there was nothing left but cold, green shimmer, and a terrible dripping sound that made her unsure if the noise truly came from her right or was just echoing around in her very skull? Awakening from a feverish dream, Tilda fought to regain a sense of all that. She fought to remember her home, her family, the stones of Dale that had been warmed from the sun, echoing the laughters of peace and prosperity - so different than those she was surrounded by now. She would have never thought that even the very stones they had used to rebuild her beloved city were something she could come to miss so dearly.  If she closed her eyes shut, both hands above her ears, she could almost make herself forget where she was now. Imagining the cobbled paths underneath her feet she could hear steps coming closer on them, remembering the warm fire of a cold winter night she could see the glow of dancing flames through her closed eyelids, remembering -  A sound startled her and Tilda’s eyes flew open. There was indeed fire - a torch - before her, indeed someone whos steps had echoed off the stones. But what she felt was not the warmth of a comforting fire in winter, but the old dread Smaug’s visage had woken in her. “Who are you?”, she croaked, startled by her own voice. She did not remember how she had ended up in this place, had not seen her captor before, and now her eyes hurt from the blinding light of the torch. “What do you want from me? Where am I?”, desperation was clearly painted on her face, entangled with her voice. But Tilda had lost her strength to fight.