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The beacons lit
The oath gives speed
Horses and riders tall
The sparkling shield
On bloody field
We answer Gondor's call!

Kisses to wives
The last goodbyes
Who returns, we don't know
This is the day
When we can't stay
The King calls, we follow

The sea of spears
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Eorlingas ride to war
To the red day
To glory, fame
In the ancestors' hall!
Rohirrim battle song
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You couldn't pinpoint the exact second, hour or day that Bertholdt's kisses began tasting like cherries rather than vinegar and blood, but the change had occurred. Even his once unappealing, feverous bear hugs now seemed like nothing more than typical loving embraces. At some point in time, you stopped flinching and started reciprocating, even wanting. When you first realized how much you had adapted to your environment, it frightened you to no end. But now...

Now it just felt right. You didn't feel guilty nor stupid when you silenced the section in your mind that was still desperately screaming. Screaming for you to open your eyes, screaming for you to get out of Bertholdt's grip.

It became easier and easier to hush your thoughts as the happy days ticked on.

When you woke up in the early hours of what you guessed was a Wednesday morning, you were pleasantly surprised at what you heard. Or, more what you didn't hear. The heavy rain that had drowned the outside grass and pounded hard at the rooftop day and night after day and night had ceased into a gentle drizzle, as though it was slowing to a stop. You smiled in satisfaction as you stretched into a sitting position. Sure, when your blankets slipped down off your torso, your thinly-veiled body was hit with what felt like a million ice bullets, but it was worth it. Once your brain had awakened a tad more, you stumbled over to your window and opened it, allowing the cool night breeze to dance in.

Due to the heaviness of the rainfalls, the air in the house had been completely sealed. The windows and the front door were simply never opened due to the fact that litres of droplets would have flown inside within seconds. It was beyond lovely to feel the stuffy days-old air in your room to be fully replaced with chilly freshness.

When the rains had started a week ago, the crazy part of your mind thought it was the world mourning you, mourning your life that would soon be bound to Bertholdt's. But you knew that it was just marking the beginning of a new era.

By this stage, your eyes were wide open and your body fully awake and alert. You knew sleep wouldn't come back tonight. You sighed as you closed the window, satisfied that the cool gusty winds had cleared out all the stifled air from days past.

Humming an unnameable tune, you began walking out of your room and down the hall to Bertholdt's. You knew he'd be fast asleep at this time of the night, but you were bored and cold. You pulled your nightdress up to your knees with your fists to give your legs more freedom as they strolled.

You knocked on Bertholdt's thick wood door with two dainty taps of your knuckles.

You heard a sleepy muffled "mamma?" from inside, an invitation to enter, which you accepted with a lover's haste.

"Hi..." You whispered as you crept over to the green bed.

"What's wrong (y/n)?" Bertholdt yawned. "You feel okay? Did something happen?"

"Nah. I was just bored. And cold." You giggled like a child when Bertholdt groaned in response.

"(Y/n), I love you, but it’s the middle of the night. I need my sleep, as you do."

Taking that as an invite, you jumped up onto the bed. The mattress groaned under your sudden weight. This made Bertholdt sit up and face you.

"(Y/n). What have I told you?"

"Hmm? Told me? About what?" You cocked your head to one side and grinned like a child.

"About being in my bed."

You groaned and rolled your eyes. Bertholdt, the cruel fiancé that he was, had enforced a physical segregation between the both of you, limiting your interactions to little more than hand-holding, friendly hugs and innocent kisses.

"Why, Bert? Why are you trying to separate us? You're so warm and it's so cold outside!" You whined.

"Because, (y/n). Because it’s what's... right. We're getting married soon, and it’s not traditionally suitable for us to share a bed." Though the room was too dark to see the changes in Bertholdt's cheeks, but you knew he was turning pink. He was so cute and shy.

After a few minutes of him resisting and you begging, he finally gave up and wrapped those strong, warm arms of his around you. You smiled and kissed his cheek, causing his face to burn even brighter.


"(Y/n) it's not that difficult..." Bertholdt laughed as he saw you tripping over your feet.

"It is! What is this cruel torture?" You wailed, ripping your hand away from his, balling the fabric of your long skirt in your hands like a toddler.

"It's called dancing, darling. From what I've heard, most ladies are meant to enjoy it." Bertholdt's lips curled into a gentle smile as he slid his hand from your waist. He looked you up and down with those loving emerald eyes of his, wolfishly admiring the shining star before him. You could stare into those pretty eyes for hours on end; you could never get bored of the aesthetic beauty they harboured, and the intense gentleness that they radiated. You were proud that the finger-shaped bruises coiled around your forearms had turned the same hue as the glittering gold flecks bordering his dilated pupils. It must have made your skin look so very lovely.

Bertholdt noticed his man-made markings at the exact same time you started thinking about him, as though your mind was an open book that he was constantly scanning. The rough touch of his fingers traced the bruises gently, causing you to wince and bite your lip on contact.

He, of course, noticed this.

His eyes never broke contact with yours as he leaned closer to press the lightest of kisses onto the throbbing yellowing bruise.

"I'm sorry." He whispered into your skin. You felt your blood pump red and vicious under his warm breath.

"Don't be." You muttered back, your eyes darting away from his glare.

Bertholdt slowly wrapped his hand around your wrist, his long, slender fingers fully coiling around. You didn't understand why he did still did that every time he was about to kiss you.  You had matured now; you had ripened like the juiciest of blood red apples to his loving touch. Yet, as though he thought you'd run or you'd evaporate and disappear completely before his eyes, he still tried to keep his hands on you at all times.

Just as you'd predicted, Bertholdt pulled your body closer to his and pressed his lips sweetly against your own.

Your spine tensed at the sensation and your body froze. You were still confused as to why you never really melted into the kiss like he did. Why did it never feel good or make your insides tingle like you knew it was meant to?

You tried to relax, tried to tell your body to cease its rigidness. It, of course, didn't listen.

Bertholdt pulled away eventually. He rested his forehead against yours and smiled, his fingers drawing incomprehensible lines into your cheeks, his fingerprints marking you as his.

"You're everything to me, (y/n). Everything. I love you."

"As I love you." You whispered back to him, bringing your hand up to rest upon his chest. You could feel his heartbeat pounding fierce and strong. You got up on your tip-toes and placed a tender kiss on his cheek, causing the area to turn pink. His heart began beating faster. He hadn't grown used to you displaying such affection unprovoked.

You giggled slightly at your lover's blushing face. He half-smiled in embarrassment.

"Bertie, honey?"

"Yes, darling?"

"When exactly will we marry?" You cocked you head to the side in a cute manner, just in case Bertholdt interpreted your question as nagging or in dread of the upcoming event.

"Tonight, darling."

"T-tonight?" You spluttered. Surely it couldn't be so soon!? "But... we haven't got anything organised!"

Bertholdt's grin widened. He stared at you as though you were a Christmas feast, like he wanted to consume you. "Silly little (y/n). I have organised everything. A dress, flowers, rings... I've prepared it all for you. For us."

You looked at him in bewilderment, your mouth gaping and your eyes wide. Your mind was shot blank of any comprehendible or logical thoughts or reactions. You'd be married tonight. You wouldn't be plain old (y/n) anymore; you'd be Mrs Bertholdt Fubar. You'd be his in sickness and in health, until death tears you 'part. You'd wake up every morning in his arms, be attacked by his kisses before bed every night, you'd have your belly stretched by his children and your hair grey with age as you grow old hand-in-hand with him.

The thought of it all, fully giving yourself in your soul and your body to him and his touch, overwhelmed you. It made your blood turn to ice in fear. The life before Bertholdt, the life that had nearly completely been wiped from your memory... it would be gone forever, wouldn't it?

Nevertheless, you felt like the best thing to do was to smile. So you did.

"How lovely. Thank you. Thank you so much, Bert." You grinned like a child on Christmas morning as you embraced him.

"Anything for you, my little (y/n)." He whispered as he kissed the top of your head.


It was to be just next to the house in the forest clearing, at sunset, under the oak tree in the daisy patch.

Fervently glancing out the window, you noticed that the sun was no longer visible. It had long dipped behind the sky-scraping forest trees that stretched far and wide around the clearing. You sat on Bertholdt's bed as you waited for him to return with the attire you would be wearing for the wedding. Your hands covered your naked breasts as you shivered in the cold. You longed to pull something, anything, on your body to try to retain some warmth, but Bertholdt had specifically told you not to move. And you knew better than to mess with Bertholdt. The message had been drilled into your mind and tattooed onto your skin in the form of unhealed scars, cuts, fingernail scratching and bruises.

You pulled your knees to your chest. Your teeth began chattering in either coldness or nervousness. You couldn't tell.

The sound of steady, heavy footsteps grew louder and louder, a sure sign that Bertholdt was approaching.

The door creaked open slowly, and you turned to face your tall lover.

"Cold, darling?" He asked, his voice dripping with honey, peppermint and autumn fog. You nodded vigorously.

He put the package he held down on the vanity before he made his way over to your shivering frame. "My poor little baby." He cooed as he climbed onto the bed behind you. He sat so his legs were placed on either side of yours and pulled you backwards into his warm, clothed chest. "I'm sorry for leaving you here in the cold." He rested his chin on your shoulder and wrapped one arm around your stomach. Your abdominal muscles ached in bliss as the heat of his sweater's arm transferred to you. His other hand slowly slithered its way to your chest and rubbed one of your breasts gently, as though he was reading your skin's goose bumps like braille. As much as you hated to admit it, you felt as though you were melting like chocolate on a hot summer's day under his scorching hot hand.

Bertholdt pressed loving kisses against your neck and cheek while he rubbed your body all over, hushing you occasionally, as though his shushing would calm your shivers.

Once you had stopped shaking, he pulled away.

"Now that you're lovely and warm again, I should probably dress you. The time is fast approaching." His beaming smile practically stretched from ear to ear, almost disturbingly.

He grabbed your hand and pulled you up. You stood up, self-conscious in your bareness, as you waited for him to unwrap the brown paper parcel and bring the dress over.

"Close your eyes and raise your arms, my sweet. I don't want you to peek at how beautiful you are." He said, and you obeyed like a good little to-be wife.

What felt like the finest of silk was slid over your head and arms. It was heavy and smelt like dust and rose petals, but it was better than being naked.

"Keep your eyes closed, (y/n)." Bertholdt whispered into your ear as he directed your body to the other side of the room where the full-length mirror was located. "Nearly done, darling."

You heard the click of a clasp and felt more weight around your waist. After you heard Bertholdt fumbling in a drawer for something or other, your hair was yanked roughly by a brush, quickly covering any knots that had formed. The final piece to the bridal puzzle was some form of cold jewellery place around your neck.

"Open, my love."

You once again obeyed.

You looked in the mirror, but the person looking back wasn't you.

There you were, your skin dull and dry after being cooped up indoors for weeks. Your eyes were accompanied my heavy, black undershadows and your cheeks were faint of the glowing pink tinge they used to have.

The dress looked out of place on you. It was pure white silk from the ribs down, billowing out like a curtain in the wind. It would be utterly shapeless on you if it weren't for the hanging belt, made from emeralds encrusted in gold. The belt matched the elaborate necklace that rested around your neck. It was a shame that you no longer had glimmer in your eyes to match the sparkle of the expensive accessories. Maybe one day when you were happily living with your beloved, you would gain it back.

Above the heavy silk skirts, the top and arms were made completely from lace, leaving your chest somewhat visible through the spaces.

"Ah! One more thing. How could I forget?" Bertholdt giggled as he placed a crown of daisies on top of your head. "There. Aren't you the most beautiful girl in the world? You look like an angel."

You managed a weak smile and turned to face him. Anything to stop looking at your reflection.

He pecked your cheek lightly. "Guess what, darling. It's time. We're about to become man and wife."

Your smile fell as he said the words, but he was far too lost in his own thoughts to notice.

He grabbed your hand and pulled you out of the bedroom and out the front door.

"We are going to a very special place, (y/n)."

"The daisy patch under the oak?"

"Yes. The daisy patch under the oak. Mother's buried there. I bet she can't wait to see you in the same dress she wore on her special day."

Bile began to rise in your throat and the taste of vomit filled your mouth. How perfectly horrid.

"Now, are you ready, my sweet little (y/n)? Ready for us to become hu--"

Bertholdt's words were cut off completely as a flash of silver steel came across his throat, slitting it and allowing blood to spurt out in all directions, coating you and your snow white gown.

You saw a figure approaching you, sprinting towards you and reaching for your hand.

"Run, (y/n)! We have to run!"
Well. That was unexpected, was it not?

Don't worry my darlings. All will be revealed in the final chapter! It is not over yet!

Thanks again for all the love and support! You guys are the best! 

Make sure to check out the 8tracks mix {…} while you wait for the final installment! 

I'd also like to thank you all for voting in the ending poll! The ending will accommodate quite a few of the options, don't you worry! 

Chapter I:…

Chapter XII {FINAL}:…
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The Travellers (or: A Sad Sort of Melancholy Melody) –A short story.
By V.K. Violette

WARNING: I don’t own historical characters, and although I want to be, I am not George Sand. Everything in this story never happened. Also, this fic will contain love between individuals of the same gender. Just deal with it and move on.

A Sad Sort of Melancholy Melody
By: George Sand


Where should I start but here? I sit here alone, at Frederyk’s old piano which faces the window. I will not touch the keys and butcher their musicality with my non-ability to harmonize, or play music in general. Right now, there are tears running down my face, and words dying on my lips. However, these words shall live on paper. This short story is meant only for one pair of eyes: mine. But I should start with the background.

Chopin was my friend, and I did love him, more than I have ever loved a man- yet I had basically thrust him into the arms of another with my big mouth and my inability to take “no” for an answer, especially when it comes to the physical. I seduced him when he was weak, and he wouldn’t forgive me- no need to permanently engrave the details in writing. I don’t want to relive them anyway. But it was my fault why he had left me here at Nohant, why he had gone off with a certain Franz Liszt to Hungary for a small tour. I acted when I should have remained in the shadows. Besides, I could never compare to his long-term best friend.

They had a relationship. I’m sure of it. Well, at least on Chopin’s side. Frederyk got a glassy look in his eyes when he thought of or saw Liszt. He was in love with the man, though he never realized it. He was so taken by him, that when Liszt offhandedly mentioned that he was going to Hungary, Chopin asked if he could go, and Liszt accepted without thought.

I knew Franz. I knew him much longer than I knew Frederyk. I could see the stormy self-hate in his eyes when he thought about Chopin like that. He was smitten as well. He had abandoned Marie d’Agoult and his three children, he had abandoned Paris, and all of his friends. Just like that. There was most certainly romance, whether or not it was physical, I did not know. However, if anyone knows anything about Franz Liszt, there is no such thing as a non-physical relationship when it came to the “Hungarian Heartthrob”.

So this is my fictional theory brought out of waiting for Chopin to return. This is what I think happened. Something like this probably did. So I shall begin.


“Frederyk! The coach is outside!” Franz Liszt yelled impatiently from the front doorway of his downtown Paris flat. The mentioned was running about, frantically out of breath as he reached to grab everything in sight- gloves, hat, overcoat, piano wire, etc. Liszt rolled his eyes, and grabbed the smaller man by his wrist, dragging him gently into the luxurious black carriage.
For about seven hours, the two pianists were lost in their own world. Liszt was busy writing letters to his son, Daniel, and his daughter Blandine, making written small-talk about his travels. When he was done with these cordial notes, be began to write a letter to Niccolo Paganini, a friend of his, about some music he had deemed playable “only by the demon violinist”.  When his letter writing ceased, Liszt entertained himself with a book, just a general history on Hungary, not really taking in the information- he was moreso lost in his thoughts.

Chopin spent most of his time just watching the scenery go by, and when he got bored of doing that, he began to read a book given to him by his friend Julian Fontana about music theory. When the light outside had dimmed to the point where reading began to strain his eyes, the Polish pianist decided that it was finally time to make small talk.

Chopin smiled at Liszt warmly. “Ah, Franz! I’m so excited about visiting Hungary! Are you going to show me where you grew up?”

Liszt grinned, eager due to Chopin’s eagerness. “Haha, yes of course! I will show you everything in Hungary, down to my parent’s graves and my barber if you so wish it!”

Chopin let out a small laugh, covering his mouth, once more demonstrating his modesty. “If we get there, dear friend. It’s a week-long drive, isn’t it?”

“I don’t know. It’s part of the adventure!” Liszt said, winking at Chopin who began to blush. “Besides,” he continued, taking Chopin’s hand in his own, “we have plenty of things to do and see. We don’t want to miss the sights of Europe! We only have so long to live!”

Chopin blushed at Liszt’s contact, even more so when the Hungarian slid Chopin’s gloves off his hands.

“Chopinetto, you don’t need to just see the world- you need to touch the world too! So many textures, from piano keys to the wild grass to” Liszt’s voice sunk low “the skin of another.”

The Polish man’s face felt like it was on fire, having realized already his feelings for the other man. For some reason, perhaps his passive nature, he had accepted it with no issue. It was not men it was only Franz. Only Franz made him feel like this, made him long so uncharacteristically for the warmth of another, for the feelings given only by one’s lover…it was only this one person. Though what pained him, was the thought, the belief- that his love was unrequited.

Liszt entangled his long fingers between the other man’s smaller ones, peering at him with his soulful, azure eyes.

“We are free, Chopinetto,” he said, clutching Chopin’s naked hands fervently, a look of rapture and revelation and something anonymous (at least to Chopin) in his eyes. “Free of old lovers- Marie, George, even your pretty fiancee- free of all Parisian speculation, free of rumors- in Hungary, the people are quite conservative- it’s just us! You and I and music, oh the music we shall make Chopinetto!” Liszt’s eyes sparkled as these thoughts bombarded his estatic mind, relayed to his companion through a trademark dramatic Lisztian monologue.

Chopin looked at Liszt sadly. Not all love, I cannot be free from that.

The younger man caught on to the melancholy in the other’s eyes, and pulled the slight man into a soft embrace- Liszt always was the touchy-feely type. He was a hugger, and when he was mad, he was a hitter- it was as if he thrived on physical contact. Chopin felt himself involuntarily swoon as he smelled Liszt’s musky scent- the scent of cigars and the smell of home.

“What is bothering you, Chopinetto?” Liszt asked gently, practically purring into Chopin’s ear. The Hungarian couldn’t resist his temptations any longer- he was alone for a good long while with the smaller man- the newest, yet strangely always present, object of his amorous advances. He had spent months agonizing about the wrong-ness of loving another man in the way he loved his Chopinetto. Was it the femininity of the man? Even now, Liszt wasn’t quite sure. But he loved the smaller man being in his arms, he loved holding him possesively, watching the blush across his face. And now there were no more George Sand or Marie d’Agoult to start rumors about it, he noted wryly.

Chopin shivered, feeling Liszt’s cool breath against the inside of his ear. He involuntarily leaned into the other’s touch. Outside of the carriage, the sun had gone down completely, leaving the two pianists in the dark. Chopin whispered Liszt’s name under his breath, feeling faint.

Liszt had waited so long- almost two years- to get up his normally overstocked courage in order to confess to the man in his arms, the man who upon his face was a look that was involuntarily sensual- sensual because it was involuntary.

“Frederyk,” he breathed. “Do you know the meaning of the word ‘alone’?”

“Of course I do,” the soft-spoken man replied distantly, his mind elsewhere.

“Right now, we are alone- a state in which we haven’t been in for a while. And I have wanted to wait until we were alone in order to tell you this. I was going to wait until we arrived, but seeing you, being close to you, my friend I cannot hold back anymore.”

“Franz, I must confess something to you-“

“I must say something I’ve kept within me-“


“Chopinetto, I-“

“-love you.” They said at the same time.

Surprise was etched upon the two men’s faces, and this sweet confession uttered by the Polish man had set the little trigger in Liszt off, and he crashed his lips roughly to those belonging to the small man in his arms. Chopin groaned when Liszt shamelessly ravished his mouth, tangling his long, talented fingers in his Chopinetto’s hair. Said man whimpered, intimidated by the Hungarian’s animalistic hunger for him, and it took him great strength to push the other man away, noticing the hurt, yet hazy look on the younger’s face.

“I’m sorry, Chopinsky,” Liszt said with regret.

“No, Franz it’s not whatever you’re thinking! We have plenty of time together on this trip of ours- let’s not spoil it so quickly.”

Liszt grinned. “My, Frederyk,” he smirked, “was that flirtation, or was that my mind making tricks?”

Chopin’s face turned scarlet, and he looked down at his feet. Liszt tipped his chin upward, peering into the other man’s eyes, raw emotion reflected in both.

Chopin’s eyes fluttered shut as he leaned into Liszt for a soft, chaste kiss. The Hungarian caressed his now-lover’s face, his lips dancing about the elder’s face, his neck, and his collarbone, eliciting soft sounds from the untouched man in his arms.

“Franz,” he whispered in a paradoxically innocent yet sensual voice “I don’t want to go home.”

Overcome by the emotions the Hungarian had locked within him for so long, Liszt crashed his lips to Chopin’s again, and this time- Chopin did not stop him.


I cannot go on. I have tried, and although these sort of scenes always come to me, I just can’t write a love scene depicting my Frederyk in someone else’s arms. So I shall end it here- it seems a just ending. Someone is knocking on my door, and something within me suspects it is Eugene, whose comfort I need at this moment. He seems to take care of me during my emotional times. The paper is stained with tears, and it isn’t worth it to rewrite it- as the falling of tears occuring while rereading it will be bitter, and for many times after that. It is just a waste of ink and paper. Romance between men was never my specialty, and for good reason. I am no better than a man myself, and men most certainly do not write such things about each other. So I end. What a waste of an eloquent prologue.

-George Sand, 1838
A totally (somewhat plotless) Fluff-let done for an art trade with :iconmiyuko-101: for her drawing of Achille, which is SO AWESOME by the way. Check out her gallery! She's pretty darn good! :D

I was also shamelessly testing another plot-bunny of mine- George Sand writing a novel based on Chopin and Liszt's relationship. It sounds like a good idea, but I don't really know how I would possibly go about it without screwing it up. I

haven't read any of George Sand's novels, sadly they are all in French.

However, I have read Nelida by Marie d'Agoult (aka Daniel Stern), which was a very good read, though it was obvious which character Liszt was portrayed as, and which character (the beautiful heroine) Marie inserted herself as. It was like a really bad revenge plot. :ohnoes:

But yes! If you like short-fluff-drabble-stories, then this is for you! (I didn't like it, but if you read my Artist Comments, you notice that I don't like any of the stuff I write. It grows on me after a couple of re-reads, I must say.)

Pianistic Fingers was the best Chopin X Liszt thing I've written. And Medianoche, there's Paganini, diverting the romance for a long time. I might have to postpone my upload, depending on how much homework my Geometry teacher swamps me with. :paranoid:

~Miyuko-101 for her awesome art trade with me! :glomp: Hope to do it again sometime! :hug:
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Pretty, shiny things are hazardous to your health.

This is because the Law of Attraction is multiplied 100x once you look at them

Hobbits state the overly obvious

Chocolate is nonexistent in Middle-Earth.

Arwen stole Glorfindel's horse.

Beer and Tobacco seem to have a beneficial effect on hobbits

Never make fires in questionable caves

Kick a troll, and your foot will break

Elvish accents are low and whispery

Never sleep in a boat if your Dad is a Pyromaniac

Don't give twins the exact same name

Imitating voices can come in handy

Running at your brother with a sword and shouting at him in old-fashioned language will get you a big time-out

Really, really big dogs are very useful

Being good at riddles can save your life

Giant spiders freak out elves big-time

Elrond should have pushed Isildur into the crack of doom

Sauron once got pwned by a girl

If you insult any of Tùrin's female relatives, you will find yourself impaled on a rock at the bottom of a raging river.

Speaking of which, do not marry blonde women with amnesia. You never know how closely related you might be.

Law of physics: If you kill a Balrog, you will be killed too.

Ëarendil was the first astronaut

Never look dragons in the eye

Legolas is NOT blonde

Elves have the amazing ability to make up songs spontaneously

Don't ask Gandalf questions when he's grumpy

You do not want to make Gandalf mad.

Watching a Maia spirit dance will cost you about 100 years of your life.

The Elessar looks like an American Airforce badge

There are surprising similarities between the movie-version Elrond and Spock.

The eagles always did provide a convenient Deus ex machina

Never laugh at live dragons

Beware of hospital workers who talk way too much

The favorite color of most elves is grey.

There is such thing as a red-headed elf (YAY!)

Locking up your daughter in a tree house and expecting her to stay there is just simply naïve.

Make sure your master is mentally healthy before you swear fealty to him

Saruman does not need a microphone

Nargothrond snipers can (apparently) see an insignia on a tiny ring from ten yards away.

According to Fëanor, the war of the Silmarils was Galadriel's fault.

Female Noldorin elves with shiny gold hair are most likely telepaths.

Smiths. Are. Insane. (ex. Fëanor, Eöl, Sauron, Maeglin )

Cìrdan is the only elf with a beard.

Bilbo has the best sense of humor ever

Elves can count reeaaaaally fast.

Having seven sons in a row is not necessarily good luck.

A white cat is even worse luck than a black one.

A shiny object about an inch in diameter caused the destruction of the kindom of Doriath.

Hùrin got jynxed. his "aurë entuluvas" only ended up with his family being cursed

Don't speak Quenya in King Thingol's presence.

If you ever meet Miriel Serindë, make sure you pronounce the 's' like a 'p'. If you don't , you will get a five hour lecture on the values of archaic consonant forms.

Dwarves hoard secret recipes

There are more parallels between Gandalf and The Doctor than you think.

Before you discuss confidential information, check to make sure no one is trimming grass under the windowsill.

The word "holiday" means something else to Bilbo.

Singing wildly while dancing on top of a table is not exactly a good idea.

If you see big green mounds with bits of stone sticking out of them like teeth...get as FAR AWAY from them as possible before nightfall.

Try not to separate from your friends, especially in heavy fog.

Knowing how to write songs makes you beloved amongst the elves.

Fëanor and his sons are possibly the cleverest (yet dumbest) elves in Arda.

Do not stare at the flickering lights in the dead marshes.... or else you will become like THEM.

Gender bias cost Sauron his most trusted servant. (a.k.a. the Witch-King of Angmar)

IF guys  in black hoods riding black horses start sniffing around your neighborhood... take that as a sign that it's time to move.

Even Fat dragons gan pack a punch.

It is a good skill to distinguish between numbers 30 and 31.

Everyone in Middle-Earth writes their 'a' s with three dots above it.

The orc sergeant in Mordor has a very limited insult vocabulary

Shiny glass balls can drive you crazy

Gollum has severe vitamin D deficiency

and 500 years in a cave didn't improve his grammar either

If you happen to see an elf, a dwarf, and a man in the Riddermark, try to take it as a maybe/ maybe not situation.

Never trust young men who simply cannot take constructive criticism.

Be very, very suspicious if 13 dwarves suddenly invite themselves to your house and seem to know exactly what is in your pantry.

There are several meanings hidden in "good morning!"

Be sure to compliment a forest whenever you enter it.

The more tragic your death, the more it will be sung about.

Elves sleep with their eyes open.

In The Silmarillion, Eru gave the Men "strange gifts". I am positive that facial hair is one of them.

Keep Fëanor away from flammable substances.

to Mandos, it's pretty obvious where Gil-Galad dwelleth now.
I saw the "71 things learned from dr. who" one, and I just had to do one for tolkien. Some of these even made me laugh. Hopefully they make sense, and hopefully you enjoy.

EDIT: Vote for your favorite one!!!!! i :heart: messages. The top ten will be put in bold!

Edit again: Okay okay, I've gotten about three comments now on the "Pronounce Serindë like Perindë" about how it should be pronounced "Therindë" because it was a thorn letter instead of a P, This deviation was submitted a long time ago and now I know from reading PoME. Please do not comment again on it.
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Some memories are too dark to bring into the light, and I have seen too many dark things. Do not ask me. I will not recall memories to darken the very light of day; do not ask me about the dark. Ask me about Light.

Ask me about the light, and I will speak. Ask me about the light, and I will tell you of one day when the light was strong. I was young, barely twenty years of age, and had returned from a journey when Elrond called me, he who had been like a father to me.

That day all was changed.

That day, for the first time, I heard the name of my father. That day, for the first time, I saw the heirlooms of my house. That day, for the first time, I knew my inheritance.

That day, for the first time, I knew my own name.

And I was young. For a whole day pride filled me and I thought that the world could bring no more beauty. I thought the world was full and could give no more for I was young, and I was of noble birth; higher than any among Men. I did not think about the years ahead, on the responsibilities that lay before me, or the burdens my birthright brought. The world was full of light. Nothing could darken it. Nothing could make it shine more bright.

A man can be so wrong.

I walked underneath the trees at the hour when the sun set. What did I feel, you ask? I cannot tell. Even in that moment I could not have told; my heart and mind was too full to tell. This alone I know: I was glad, and I could not keep my gladness inside. It burst out in song.

Then I saw a sight that overthrew it all.

The memory of that vision has not faded with the years, for there she walked between the trees; Lúthien Tinúviel, most beautiful among all the Children. I do not know how long I stood there, dumb by the sight, speechless at this vision. But then I saw her walk away under the shadows of the trees, and suddenly I feared that if I lost sight of her now she would never again be seen. And so I called to her:

"Tinúviel, Tinúviel!"

And she halted. She spoke to me and she was no dream. She lived, she breathed; she was flesh and blood. Arwen Undómiel, Elrond daughter. My own name and lineage crumbled to nothing against her beauty, and even in my youthful pride I knew then that the light carries within its own darkness. Just like dark spots appear before the eye when we have been staring at the light, thus the world was dark when I turned my eyes from her.

No, do not ask me about the dark. Ask me about the light, and I will show you the light in my beloved's eyes.
Battles comes in many forms, and the memories are not always dark. MEFAs first place 2009

First in a vignette-series with the memories of several characters, with Aragorn as the most prominent. Each vignette have a different memory, told in first person.

Disclaimer: These vingettes are based on the characters and world created by J.R.R. Tolkien, all of which are the property of the Tolkien estate. The stories are made for entertainment and at no monetary gain.

rstrider9 made a wonderful illustration that links in to this and the last vignette (not posted here yet): [link]
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Note: Victor is my Black Butler OC
  ~At one time, you thought life was meaningless... That is, until you met... Him.~
 Darkness. It was all you could see on your way to Phantomhive Mansion. Not a single tree in sight to your right or to your left as you rode inside the carrige that your mother has spent much on to make sure you were safe a few weeks before.
Darkness... Darkness... Darkness.
  You wore all black and a veil to hide your face. It was like you were on your way to a funeral, which you actually wish you were heading to insted. You let out a sigh. "Mother never expected me to do these kind of things. Its tragic that she passed the other day, otherwise she could have done this herself." You said as you looked away from the darkness of the window. "Me, out of all people doing this kind of thing. Despicable."
You were never really all that happy, tragedy always coming your way to where you have become blind to the misery, in a way, you were much like Ciel, the lord you were about to meet. "Hmph... But at least I have you." You say as a cup of tea was being served to you. A young butler with lilac eyes, in all black smiled as he handed you the cup. A marking glows on your neck: a cresent moon through a star.
~Though hatred between two servants made things complicated.~
 You and your butler Victor walk up to the Phantomhive mansion, and with one knock, the butler of the mansion answered the door, Sebastian. "Good evening, and welcome to the Phantomhive mansion" He said with a devious smile upon his face, but it quickly fades when he looks at Victor. Their eyes locked into a stare down, and good thing to, your face turned pink with blush when you saw the butler that stood before you. You then snapped your fingers once your blush faded, breaking the two butlers out of their stare down "Victor, go and get my luggage. Any quarrel between you two can wait." You said as you walked into the mansion. "Yes, M'lady" Victor said as he walked back to the carriage, giving one last evil glance at Sebastian. He simply just turned away and to you as he closed the door. "You must be lady _____. It is a pleasure to meet you." He said, the smile back on his face. You removed your veil. "Like wise. Now, where exactly is the Earl of Phantomhive? I did come here to discuss matters of business with him after all." "I'm sorry, but my master got impatient and left. He should be back within the hour." He responded. You let out a sigh "I apologize for being late, I was held up because my carriage driver accidently ran over a poor cat." you said with sadness in your voice. This statement slightly shocked Sebastian (because we all know he loves cats), but actually, he's more shocked then you think.
  The door then opens and Victor walks in with your luggage. "If you ask me, that man should be exicuted." Sebastian said, quite mad about hearing about the death of a cat. "Yes, I agree. The poor girl was bearing kittens." You said. This made Sebastion even more infuriated. "Im sorry to intrude, but perhaps you could show us to our rooms." Victor interrupted. "It was just a cat, a filthy creature." he continued with a scowl *SLAP!!!!* You have struck victor across the face with the back of your hand "How dare you say such a thing! All living things have a right to live, and saying something as harsh as that, especially if such creature was carrying offspring which did not even get the chance to live before dying is unacceptible!!!" You shouted at your butler. "...My apologies, M'lady" He says, his cheek red where you struck him. "Now, Sebastian. If you could be so kind and show us to our rooms as Victor suggested." "Gladly" he responded "This way." He started up the stairs.
  ~And a simple business trip... ended up as finding the love of your life.~
 You walked along side Sebastian, but normally you would walk along side YOUR butler, so Victor greatly disapproves of this, his eyes quickly changing from glowing red and slit like, then back to normal. "I see that you are wearing only black, Lady ____." Sebastian states. "Yes, a lovely shade is it not?" "I would suspect young women would wear virbrant colors." "Well i'm not like other women... I despise the thought of being like that." You said with anger in your voice. "I see... This will be sleeping during your stay, Lady ___." He said as he opend a door to a bedroom. The room was so beautiful, decorated with the finest decor. "Thank you, Sebastian. But do call me ____. Being called 'Lady' makes me feel so important... I hate that feeling." "My, you are quite the rebelious one, arn't you?" Sebastian askes teasingly. "Quiet. Victor, leave my luggage by the door. I will unpack myself." You say and he does so, then Sebastian leads him to his room.
  "...Young ____ is quite a delicate rose isn't she? So beautiful and fragile, yet has thorns that if you were to get on her bad side, it would not be pretty." Sebastian said with a devious smirk. "If you dare lay a finger on her-!" Victor started. "She would most likely enjoy it." He continued, trying to enrage Victor, which was working of course. Victor tries to contain his anger, and he sighs. "We have had this rivalry for 200 years. If you could be so kind and think common sense not to enrage me at least while my mistress and I are here, that would be rather pleasant." Victor considered. Sebastian thought for a moment, but didn't respond, he only showed victor his room, and walked away to tend to other matters.
  You were unpacking your things in your room, when you hear a knock at your door. "Come in." you responded. Sebastian walks in, closing the door behind him "My master has returned, though he will speak with you tomarrow." He said, walking towards you, but you did not notice him coming closer. "Alright, thank you Sebas-" You gasped as he started to stroke your cheek with his now bare hand, you hadn't noticed that he was already beside you until it was too late. You stood still as he kept stroking your cheek, his hand then travelled to your neck. You shuddered with both confusion and pleasure at his sudden action. He traced the marking on your neck with his fingers. "W-what on earth are you doing?" you asked with hesitation. He didn't say anything, but what he did next was rather surprising. he put his hand under your chin, pulled your head towards him so your face was to his, and softly pecked your lips. Your face turned nearly as red as his eyes. "I might have only known you for not even a day, but I can already tell... You are one hell of a woman." He said with a devious grin across his face. You were silent as he began to leave, but you ran up to him before he reached the door, grabbed his arm, and pulled him into another kiss, this time, you wanted it deeper. He gladly obliged, kissing you back, his tounge playing with yours as his one hand moved to your waist, and the other to your back, and you wrapped your arms around his neck. He then began to unbutton the back of your dress...

I do not own Black Butler, but i wish i owned Sebastian :heart:
Pt. 2 coming soon. thats where the fun begins :devilish:
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"So… Fingon has told you."

"I found out on my own."

"We thought it would be best not to tell you until you… were stronger."

"That would have been quite a feat."

Maglor shot his older brother an almost anxious glance, not asking the next question: So how did you take it?

Maedhros was sitting up in bed again, propped up against pillows, as he had almost all the time since the previous day. His back, shoulder and arm weren't taking it well, but he was determined not to give up any hard-earned ground. Sitting up had meant having his right arm in plain sight for twenty-four hours. He had risen to the challenge, having spent most of that time staring at the stump, trying to accept that it was a part of him now.

He could not deny that the discovery that he was maimed had left him badly shaken. It had cast a doubt on every single thing that he had been clinging to since first realising that his ordeal was over. Revenge. Strength. Normality. Fingon's reaction had left him equally shaken, but now, with the benefit of a few hours' thought, he had to admit that his reaction, brutal as it had been, had been exactly what he needed to jolt him from falling into despair. He had been badly in need of brutal honesty in combination with unswerving dependability.

It had to be said in Maglor's defence that he had managed to tread a fine middle ground between staring at the bandaged stump – which he hadn't seen before– and completely avoiding looking at it, for which Maedhros was grateful.

Seeing Maglor lost for words – or even worse, groping for the right ones – was a rare occurrence, and Maedhros relented, deciding to come to his rescue by answering the question he didn't ask. "It will take some getting used to."

Maglor seemed relieved, though he must have understood how much of an understatement this one sentence had been. "We're all there to help, Russandol."

"I was afraid you'd say that."

Maglor fell silent again.

"I don't want help."

"What do you want?"

Maedhros thought about this for a while. What did he want? He knew he would need help. At least at first. But he couldn't bear the thought of having to ask for it.

"I need you to be the one you've always been. Not just you. All of you."

Trust Maglor to understand. "So that you can be the one you've always been."

"Yes. At least most of me."

Maglor nodded, and took a deep breath. "I decided to leave this for later, after…" He stopped himself. "But maybe this is a good day for this, nevertheless." He rose, and going towards the door he picked something up that he must have left just out of sight on his way in. Maedhros looked at him quizzically as he returned with a long object wrapped in cloth.

"Curufin made this. We found your old one in the place where…. It was charred and broken. It could not have been reforged, even if…"

Maglor's voice trailed off, and Maedhros knew what he meant. His old sword, forged by his father, had been a two-handed weapon. They must have found it where he had been ambushed, the day he had set out to meet Morgoth's embassy. Morgoth's Balrogs.

"You asked me what I wanted," he said, looking up from the parcel at Maglor.


"I want you to finish your sentences. Please."

Maglor heaved a sigh. "Even if you still had two hands to wield it." It was plain how difficult it was for him to say these words. He extended the parcel. "Here. Open it."
He held the parcel lightly in his hands while Maedhros awkwardly unwrapped it. He could see his younger brother's hands twitch once or twice, but wisely, Maglor held himself back and did not try to help.

The scabbard was smooth, russet leather with gold worked into it, and Maedhros saw that the loops to mount it to a sword belt were reversed, to be worn on the right side, not on the left.

The sword was a graceful weapon, with a long, slender blade of folded steel patterned in intricate floral designs. The crossbar was inlaid with copper echoing the designs on the blade, as was the pommel.

Maedhros gripped it with his left hand to feel its weight. It felt heavier than it should have, and he was glad that Maglor still had a hand under the tip of the blade, unobtrusively helping to balance it.

"Curufin asked me to say that this is the best he could do on such short notice." Maglor's voice held a hint of amused exasperation. Curufin could be extremely vain where his skills were concerned.

"Short notice?" Maedhros said softly. "This must have taken months." He laid the sword across his lap and ran a finger over the folded steel, staying well away from the edge. He could see that it was very sharp. He had never been able to match his father's or brother's skill in metalwork, not by a long shot and to his father's severe disappointment, but being Fëanor's son enabled him to recognise exceptional work when he saw it.

"It has."

Maedhros looked up. "He started working on this a long time before I even woke."


"You didn't give up on me."

"No," Maglor said simply.

"I don't know what to say," Maedhros whispered.

Maglor resheathed the sword and leant it against the side of Maedhros' bed before he sat down again. "That is good," he said. "I was getting tired of you snapping at me."

Maedhros laid an arm around Maglor and rested his head against his brother's shoulder. It was the first time he had actively sought physical contact with anybody since his rescue. Maglor gently returned the embrace, lightly chafing the side of his neck.

"Don't do that," he said softly. "Snap at me if it makes you feel better."

"Maybe later," Maedhros replied, his voice slightly hoarse.

Maglor smiled faintly. "I'll look forward to that."
Maedhros needed a chapter to pick himself back up. Maglor needed a chapter to show his worth. And the other sons of Fëanor needed a chapter to show they cared.

Here it is!

Chapter one: [link]
Chapter two: [link]
Chapter three: [link]
Chapter four: [link]
Chapter six: [link]

Now with picture!
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There was a feeling of pity in sitting heavy in your stomach.. and your chest.  You sat outside of the closed off door and leaned against the frame. The sight was burned into your memory. Erwin had been so covered in blood, no one could tell if it was from a wound of his own or from the comrades falling around him. It was disturbing when a shaky voice called out his name, and he didn't move, he didn't look like he was breathing. Your mind began to swim in hysteria again before you opened your eyes and took a breath. You were safe in the building, he was safe in the building.. He was alive. You honestly struggled to remember how Levi had found the both of you as quickly as he did, but.. Thank God for that little man. A sharp exhale pushed through your lips as you turned around and opened the door quietly, catching sight of Levi sitting on a stool next to a steel bathtub. Erwin still being unconscious, Levi took it upon himself to take care of the commander.

He wore his uniform, only short of his cloak and jacket as he bathed Erwin of all the blood he could've easily drowned in earlier that day. His hands stopped massaging soap into the commander's hair (still tainted red), and looked over his shoulder at you. His face said nothing, as usual. Had you been in any proper state of mind and not so nervous, you might have asked how Erwin was before stuttering an apology. "I can't believe he-- I'm sorry."

"Hm? Are you now?" Levi asked, slightly confused.

"It was my flare he followed. I panicked.. I thought it.. Well, I'm not really sure what I expected to happen - but.. definitely not this. I'm such an idiot, I'm so glad he's alive." You glanced at the poor man, looking almost peaceful in his slumber, mouth still stuck in a perpetually non-threatening frown.

Levi huffed and turned away, you could only assume he was irritated. "Why does everyone always apologize to me for doing their job? We told you if you saw Titans, to fire a flare. That's what you did, isn't it?"

It wasn't. You knew that's what you had been told, you remembered that now. You fired because you were scared, and riding your horse alone. "Yes.. sir. But--"

"He's sacrificed many things... and people... to get as far as we have, it's no one's fault but his own that he nearly got his ass bitten off." He remarked flatly. "He probably knew it was you, too. Because only you'd frantically fire a flare twice."

"I.." You straightened your back, bringing your hand to the back of your neck and rubbing it nervously. You were beginning to sweat. "Yeah.. if only I hadn't been as scared as I was, I could've assisted him more than I had." You sighed again, why couldn't you stop offering quiet apologies? Something inside of you wanted to believe it wasn't your fault, but if you had just kept advancing forward instead of freaking out and signaling others to find you. "Again, I'm really--"

Levi looked at you impatiently, "Okay, I forgive you. Shut up." He said softly. Levi grabbed a small cup from off the floor and dipped it into the tub, "Now come over here and help me tilt his head back."

"Yes, sir!" You smiled, feeling a little better Levi had accepted your apology. Taking off your jacket and tossing it by the door, you began to roll up your sleeves as you walked over. Granted, you loved Erwin as platonically as the word came for quite some time now (or so you had convinced yourself) - you would do just about anything to see him better again, but any get-well-soon thought stopped dead in it's tracks, and so did you. Gasping lightly, you turned bright red and looked away.

"What is it?"

"He's.. naked."

Levi stared at you in (almost) disbelief. "(Name). You fight Titans every day and you're afraid of the commander's--"

"S-Stop!" You held your hands out, focus placed solely on looking anywhere but the tub. "Don't say it.."

"Get over here. That's an order."

You then proceeded to walk forward, your eyes cast to the ground. There was almost no escaping the sight of Erwin lying in the tub bare. Of course you would assume he was fit, muscular - but your daydreams had never strayed to below the belt. It was almost a rude wake up call - you were reminded he wasn't just some fantasy, he was a real person, a real man. And he wasn't lacking the proof. Kneeling down, you helped Erwin sit up slightly, supporting his back with one arm while tilting his head back with the other; you made sure to press your hand flatly against his forehead, not allowing any of the water Levi poured to run onto his face. After he had emptied the cup, you ran your hand from his forehead to his hair, pushing the water back.

"Thank you." Levi offered quietly.

"Mm-hm." You nodded. "It's the least I can do. I've never seen anyone out this long before."

"Neither have I." He confessed, grabbing a small, crisp towel off his lap and wiping his hands of the filthy water. "He should be coming around some time soon. He's never been one for slacking."

You laughed lightly. It was true. "You know, I should've never broke away from you and your squad. I figured when you said someone should go left and someone should go right, you meant anyone." You smiled in defeat, you knew your abilities and limits - but Levi was a kind man, he, most likely, didn't have the heart to tell you no when you offered as eagerly as you did. "Then again, I'm still alive. So, I'm getting there."

You expected him to reply with anything. A joking insult, even. Levi stared at Erwin with furrowed brows. Your eyes followed his and you looked down at the commander still in your arms, you saw him gazing up at you. He didn't look lost or groggy; his infinitely big, blue eyes stared at you with amazement, perhaps comfort as well. "Commander!" You gasped, helping him to sit up on his own.

Water from his soaked hair ran down his face as he looked between you and Levi. He gave an appreciative nod before looking down at himself, "Dismissed."

Without a word, Levi stood up and took your arm with him. He made sure to throw the towel onto the stool before walking you to the door. After the door clicked behind you both, you looked down the hall and saw Levi already about to turn the corner. Continuing to follow the corporal, you called out to him. "Levi!" Ah, you hadn't remembered when you two first started  addressing each other on a first name basis, but it seemed like forever ago. You couldn't remember the last time you had actually called him captain, or lance corporal. He stopped and looked over his shoulder at you. "Do we have any plans on continuing the expedition? I know it's not my place, but I was thinking maybe this time around we take more. I know you need men here to keep an eye on some of the recruits, but if you think about it--"

"You're not going anywhere." He interrupted, his voice lacking any emotion as usual.

You face fell. Had you really screwed up that badly? "W.. What?"

"Not after that stunt you pulled today. You're not leaving here for a long time." With that, he turned around. Not thinking, you reached out and grabbed his arm. When did you get so gutsy? Maybe it was because you knew he'd never say anything. Levi never scolded you anymore, and you weren't sure why. Part of you believed it was because you were getting better about, well, everything - but you weren't so sure anymore.

"What do you mean I'm not leaving here?! You're not going to leave me behind? I realize I messed up, but that doesn't mean you have the right to just kick me out of the expedition!" You narrowed your eyes pitifully at him, you were genuinely disappointed and you felt a little let down by Levi.

"You could've been killed. You realize that, yes?"

"Well.. Yes. But," You exhaled heavily, releasing his arm. "I want to get better."

"And you will." Levi turned around again, leaving you in the middle of the hallway, confused and upset. Opening the door to his office, he looked over his shoulder at you, almost as if he expected you to argue with him further. It wasn't an unwelcome sight, to see his features soft and staring at you hopefully, but with a quick, almost unnoticeable sigh, he blinked and the corporal's dead eyes returned. "God forbid anything happens to you, (name)." And with that, he stepped into his office and shut the door gently  behind him.

You couldn't tell if he used sarcasm to make you feel worse, or if what you were hearing had been genuine. Levi was a passionate man, but would he ever express such a thing if your life wasn't in danger?


Your evening afterwards had mainly compromised of recalling the events earlier with your fellow comrades around the dinner table, and suffering from a headache that had been the result of your conversation with Levi. You longed to tell some of your friends what he had said, but you didn't want them to know you weren't going to join them on the next expedition, not yet. It was rare you considered a night of laughing and extra food to be well deserved, but you found the merriment of those who survived to be reassuring. You drifted out of the conversation as quickly as you had entered, looking past your friends and twirling your (h/c) hair between your nimble fingers. In the short distance, you saw Erwin walk into a dimly lit room, and shut the door. All the thoughts and feelings regarding his health came back to you. There hadn't been a time earlier you asked how he was doing, or even checked up on him.

Pushing a plate with half a loaf of bread to Mike (who accepted happily), you stood up and started towards the room. It was late, and the room was dim, had he been getting ready for bed? You didn't care, it'd only take a moment, if that, to ask how he was doing. You knocked gently on the door frame, "Commander? It's (name)."

It didn't take long for Erwin to open the door, eyes instantly drawn to yours. Stepping aside, he allowed room for you to enter. "Please." He said warmly. You weren't really intending on getting comfortable, but the commander's mood was inviting, and as long as he wanted you there, you'd stay. "I'm glad you decided to come see me. I was going to speak to you in the morning, what with planning the next expedition with Levi all afternoon."

Your heart sank. The expedition. No doubt Levi told Erwin of his disappointment in you. You had every right to feel embarrassed and awkward in front of the commander. "Oh?" You managed to squeak, attempting to sound interested.

"Before I was injured, I saw you assist on a Titan's take down. It was impressive. You're learning quickly, (name), I'm proud of you."

Was this his attempt to soften you up? Before telling you he whole-heartedly agreed with Levi? Expectantly, you stared at him, waiting. "Th.. thank you, commander." You finally smiled, giving him a nod. "I thought so, too, but I wanted to stay modest." You chuckled.

Erwin humored you and chuckled as well, closing his eyes. He stayed in thought for what seemed like an eternity. Opening his stoic blue eyes, he walked towards you and held onto your shoulders, guiding you to the small recliner in front of his desk. Gently seating you, he got on his knees. "What do you want to do?"

You felt a light blush dust across your cheeks seeing the commander in front of you, awkwardly positioned between your legs. "E-Excuse me?"

"With the expedition. Levi expressed to me his concern for your life, but I think he's forgotten what that'd do to you. What that'd do to any soldier with your dedication. I'm going to give you a choice." He said softly, looking up at you with a comforting gaze. As if any answer you gave him would be the right answer. "Do you want to go?"


"I see."

There's a long silence. You and Erwin stare each other in the eyes for great amount of time.


".. Yes?" Blinking away the brief look of adoration in his eyes, he stood up, leaving you in the chair.

"Levi seemed really.. disappointed in my actions. Most likely because I almost got you killed. Did he say anything about it?" You leaned forward and placed your hands on your knees, hoping he'd tell you the truth. Erwin was a man of secrets, but surely this wasn't important enough to keep to himself.

"The last thing I saw before I blacked out.. and the first thing I saw when I woke up.. was you, (name)."

You looked up at him, a little shocked.

"(Name).. you are a very skilled soldier. I'm proud to take this journey with you, as well as the others. I'm sure Levi was angry with you because," He walked back to you, getting on one knee as before, but this time closer. Erwin took your hands, small in comparison, in his large, dry ones. They were rough, but warm. "He knows."

Swallowing slowly, you widened your bright (e/c) orbs and stared at him, pink cheeks quickly turning red. You had never seen him look at you like this before. "Knows.. what, commander?"

Erwin reached out and gently dusted the back of his fingers down your cheek. "Levi's a very loyal man. And you are very precious to me. I don't know where or when it happened, (name), but somewhere down the line I realized that."

It felt as if your heart stopped beating and your brain stopped working all together. A burning sensation, starting from your chin, quickly rose to the tip of your ears as your hands started to shake. Erwin brought one of them to his lips, giving a chaste kiss to the back of your hand. "I understand this is unexpected. I thought I had more time to prepare my confession, but now is better than later." Standing up, he brought you to your feet as well.

"C-Commander, I.. I don't know what to say." A new (and somewhat scary) excitement began to fill you. You respected him, you admired him, and he was so damn handsome. Was this really happening for you?

Giving a small grin, he hummed cheerfully. "Erwin."

"..Erwin." You couldn't help but to return the grin, except yours shone with all the possibilities that were placed in front of you.

"I'm glad you came to me when you did. Perhaps we can make more of tonight than I had intended." His eyes glazed.

"What do you.. mean?" You asked, taking a step closer and looking up at Erwin. He was towering over you, and yet you found it endearing.

"I want you to keep in mind that everyone, me especially, is human. With.. needs, and desires." He didn't allow you to take your hands back yet, instead tightening his grip. "And nerves as well, which is why I understand if you don't want me so close so soon. But, we don't know what's going to happen tomorrow. To either of us."

Erwin watched as your eyes flashed with panic, not knowing what to say. He smiled softly anyway, and bent over to your level, barely pressing his lips against yours. "(name)," he spoke calmly. "Tonight could be our last night. Let me take you."
in actuality i  really need to give thought as to how I'm going to write Erwin sex so I gotta cut that part there and give it a night to think about it u///u i've never really written someone like him or levi so i'm trying to warm up before i ruin their character all together *backflips out the window*

Erwin and Levi (c) SNK
You (c) Yourself
Story (c) Me!!
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"What are you doing here?" you questioned.

The boys' eyes widened at your hostile tone; your voice had come out as a low growl due to your throat being dry from lack of water. The short, black haired man seemed unfazed by your hostility and continued to stare at you with cold eyes.

"We seek shelter," the black haired man replied in a monotone voice. His grey eyes continued to bore into yours as he slightly nodded his head in the direction where Jean sat. "We have an injured soldier who needs medical aid."

You ceased the staring contest with the short man after a moment of silence, by throwing your dagger into the ground by your bare feet. You let out a grunt and curtly nodded your head at the men.

"(First Name)," you said simply.

The black haired man remained silent for a moment, before replying in a bored tone, "Levi."

"I'm Eren Jaeger," the brunette said.

"Jean Kirschtein," the injured one said, smirking at you.

"A-Armin Arlert," the blonde one stuttered.

You walked towards your house and motioned for the men to follow you as you passed them. "Put him on the bed," you said as the men cautiously entered your home.

Eren brought Jean over to your unmade bed and Armin assisted in lifting his injured leg onto the mattress. You walked over to the kitchen without a second glance at the soldiers and grabbed a wooden bucket from beneath the counter.

"There's a river not too far from here on the right. Go fill this up with water," you said to no one in particular, and placed the bucket onto the table.

You could feel uncertain eyes boring into your back as you opened up your kitchen cupboards and rummaged through various unlabelled bottles and vials. You heard Levi order Eren to follow your instructions as you quietly picked out a bottle and brought it over to the kitchen table.

"Shirt. Off," you said, gesturing to the blood-soaked shirt covering Jean's chest.

Levi quickly silenced Jean's protests and removed the dirtied garment while Armin approached you with the strips of cloth he had found earlier. You snatched them from his hands and brought over another bucket that was already half filled with water, along with another piece of cloth. You soaked the cloth with the water and brought it to the wound on Jean's torso. A gash stretched over from the side of his left hip to above his navel and was temporarily closed by a layer of dried blood.

After rinsing his wound with the cloth, you grabbed a small vial of clear liquid from the table, uncorked it, and dripped some of the substance onto the wet cloth.

"What's that?" Armin asked, blue eyes furrowed in curiousity.

"Wild onion extract," you replied.

"Aaaand what's it for?" Jean asked with uncertainty lacing his voice. He attempted to shift away from you as you approached him with the cloth, but his open wound hindered him from moving very far.

"Anti-septic," you said and proceeded to dab the cloth onto his injury. He hissed in pain at the stinging the substance caused, and jerked away from you. "Stop. Your. Moving," you commanded with a harsh voice and firmly pressed down onto his shoulder with your free hand.

Jean had many injuries. Besides the gash on his torso, his left arm was covered in bruises and a two-inch long cut on his forearm. His torso and right arm had a few scratches, and his right cheek had another small cut as well. The worst part of his injuries, however, was the discolouration forming on his lower left leg.

After patching the remainder of his wounds, you gently prodded the tender area on his leg. Jean groaned in pain at your actions and you quickly mumbled an apology.

"You have a fracture in your leg," you stated, removing your hands and standing up. You turned to face the blonde boy and he flinched at the sudden attention. "There's some matches and dried leaves in a box over there by the fireplace. I need you to get a fire going," you said, eyes staring intently at him. "Please," you hesitatingly added in a softer tone after noticing Armin's uncomfortable fidgeting.

The blonde visibly relaxed at your change in tone and nodded his head. "Y-yes, Ma'am", he replied, blue eyes full of determination as he set about igniting the fireplace.

Without saying anything, you abruptly grabbed an axe hanging on a wall and exited your small home, leaving two startled boys and one suspicious man behind.

The sun was already beginning to set and the air was starting to cool down. You sighed in annoyance at the receding sun; you still had much to do before dark. You rushed over to a tree at the edge of the clearing, placed the handle of the axe between your lips, and proceeded to climb as fast as you could. You studied a particular branch before taking the axe into your hands and bringing it down upon the limb with as much power as you could muster.

"What are you doing?" came a voice from below.

You halted your actions and peered down at the short black haired man standing in front of the tree. "The Jean person needs a splint for his leg," you said slowly. To say you were rusty at communicating with others was an understatement.

Levi looked at you oddly for a split second, before his expression returned to stoic. He may have appeared to be bored, but you could feel his eyes watching your every movement like a hawk.

"You distrust me," you observed. He didn't respond. Turning back to your task, you lifted the axe and said over your shoulder, "If you're going to stand there and stare at me, then make yourself useful and collect the branches that I'll drop down." You heard him make a "tch" sound before you continued to hack away at the tree branch.

You dropped three branches down onto the ground from where you were perched in the tree. Levi picked up the fallen branches without a word and returned to the house before you could even jump down.

The house was brightly lit by the fireplace when you entered. You nodded at the blonde boy and attempted to show a smile of appreciation, but it turned out as an awkward grimace. He looked at you warily and nervously twiddled his thumbs.

"You," you pointed Eren who had returned with a bucket of water.

Eren frowned slightly at your outstretched arm. "What?" he asked.

"Pour the water into that pot," you pointed towards a large, black pot resting on the stone slab beside the fire, "and hang it over the fire. Then, go back to the river and refill the empty bucket."

"Why don-"

"Do as she says, Brat," Levi interrupted Eren.

You turned your attention to Armin as Eren reluctantly exited your home with the emptied bucket.

"I need you to chop the carrots on the counter," you said. Armin nodded his head and walked over to the kitchen counter.

You switched your attention to Jean and handed him a bundled piece of cloth.

"What's that for?" he asked, eyeing you and the item suspiciously.

"Put it between your lips," you ordered, then sighed and rolled your eyes at his continued stare. "It's for biting into," you elaborated, then quickly shoved it in his mouth before he could react.

You moved your hands to his fractured leg and swiftly pulled his bone back into place. Jean's eyes widened at the sudden action and he screamed and bit down onto the cloth in his mouth. Armin halted his work at the counter and looked on at the scene with worry etched onto his face, while Levi remained silent and observed you and your patient with emotionless eyes.

With your guidance, Levi had helped you tie the two forked branches around Jean's fractured leg. You connected the splint with a smaller branch below his foot and wrapped a piece of cloth around his ankle. You then placed a stick against the ankle wrap and twisted it until his leg was straight, and then fastened it to the splint.

By the time you had finished tending to Jean's wounds, the pot of water hanging over the fire had begun to boil. You carefully dunked a teapot into the pot and filled it up with some of the boiling water, then dropped a tea strainer full of crushed mint leaves inside of it. You placed the teapot onto the counter and waited for it to steep while you cleaned up the mess you had made when tending to Jean.

"Um...I've finished cutting all the carrots..." Armin quietly told you.

"Good. There's a sack of potatoes under the kitchen counter. Peal five of them," you ordered, then added after a moments pause, "please."

"O-of course!" Armin said.

You poured the tea into a clay cup and slowly brought it over to Jean.

"What's this?" he asked.

"Mint tea. It'll help you relax," you explained.

You walked towards the front door with a basket in hand, and abruptly stopped just as you were about to exit your small home. You turned around and faced the black haired man who stood by the table, looking out of place. "Oi, short man," you called out.

Jean and Armin grew tense at your words and looked at you with wide eyes. The air quickly grew heavy, but you remained oblivious to the change in atmosphere as you patiently waited for the man to reply.

"What did you just call me, Brat?" Levi said. Armin and Jean visibly flinched at his dark tone.

You completely ignored his death glare and gestured towards Jean. You opened your mouth to speak, but paused, then slowly said, "You must watch over the...Jean...person...while I gather some vegetables from the garden. Let me know if anything goes wrong." You quickly left the house, not even waiting for Levi's response.

Jean stared at your retreating figure with confusion. "...What did she just call me?"


You returned shortly after picking some food from your garden, with Eren not too far behind you. He placed the bucket of water on the counter and you joined Armin in chopping vegetables. You added the chopped vegetables into the boiling water and sprinkled in some spices. While the vegetables were cooking, you went back outside and skinned and gutted the fox you had killed. You used the light streaming through the windows as your guide, as the sun had already gone down.

"Blonde boy," you called from where you leaned against the door frame.

Armin turned around to face you and visibly cringed at your bloodied hands. "Uh...yes?" he asked.

"I can't touch anything at the moment. There's some left over deer wrapped in a cloth in that cupboard over there. Cut it into cubes and put it into the pot...please."

"A-alright," he said.

You nodded at him and then went back outside to finish cutting the fox meat.

You returned with a bucket full meat and proceeded to wash your hands and the meat in the sink. The tap didn't work, but the drain did, so you always made sure to have the drain plugged and the sink full with fresh water. You flushed out the water after washing everything and replaced it with the bucket of water Eren had brought in. You then placed the strips of fox meat into the water and sprinkled it with salt.

"What're you doing?" came a voice from behind you.

You glanced over your shoulder and saw a pair of bright green eyes staring at you. "Preparing the meat for tomorrow," you said. "I don't normally hunt fox, as I can get bigger pelts from other animals, and their meat isn't very good unless prepared properly." You looked down at the fox meat and frowned. "But this fox tried to eat any meat I left outside to dry and was stealing from my garden. So I killed it. But I don't want it to go to waste after all the effort," you explained.

You almost regretted your decision to hunt the red animal. The little amount of salt you had was already in the house when you had stumbled upon it four years ago, and was quickly diminishing. You also didn't have any vinegar, and the climate wasn't warm enough to grow limes or lemons, so you had to substitute any cooking that required acetic acid with tomato juice, which wasn't very effective.

After preparing the meat for tomorrow, you poured the hot stew into five bowls and served them to the soldiers.

With the addition of four people inside your tiny home, the living space was certainly crowded. You were no where near prepared for guests, as evidenced by the hunting equipment and laundry cluttering all but one of the four dining chairs. Levi claimed the only empty chair near the fire, Jean was slightly propped up on your bed, and Armin and Eren sat beside each other between the bed and the fireplace. You situated yourself on the floor against the cabinet on the opposite wall from everyone.

The men sat in silence and stared at you. You sighed in annoyance when you noticed that none of them had taken a bite of their food. "It's not poisoned," you said. As if to show a point, you scooped a large portion of the stew onto your spoon and shoved it in your mouth.

Your guests started to slowly eat the stew. You figured if they weren't distrustful of you and the food wasn't so hot, they would probably be wolfing their food down. You were also incredibly hungry and exhausted from a long day and skipping lunch, but the stew had already burnt your tongue when you foolishly took a big bite, so you had no choice but to pace yourself as well.

Jean's face contorted into a look of concentration as he ate. "It's a bit bland," he commented.

You stared blankly at him. "I know how to survive, not pull chocolate cake out of my ass," you deadpanned.

Eren snorted at your comment, Jean choked a bit on his food, and Armin stared at you with wide eyes. You smirked at their reactions.

"Just be glad you're eating a meal and not starving, Kirschtein," Levi said.

"Uh, yes, Sir."

"," Armin slowly began, "what are you doing here outside of the walls?"

All eyes shifted towards you. You took your time with chewing the bite in your mouth and slowly swallowed. The suspense had them hooked, you could tell, as their eyes remained glued to you. Finally, you opened your mouth and simply said, "Surviving."

"Well, yeah. But how did you get here without getting eaten? And why are you here?" Jean asked.

"I dunno," you shrugged. It was true. You really didn't know. After four years of living in this fictional world, you still hadn't recalled anything of importance from your life before.

"How long have you been here?" inquired Armin.

"About four years."

" old are you?" Jean asked, eyeing you up and down with a smirk on his face.

You frowned at him. "17 or 18. Maybe 19. Or 16. Not 100% percent sure. But must likely 18," you replied. While you did know your date of birth, you weren't sure of your exact age when you had arrived four years ago, so all you could do was guess.

The boys stared at you in silence, mouths agape in shock at your confusing answer.

Eren quickly changed the subject. "We didn't encounter any titans the entire time we were walking in this forest. And I didn't see any while fetching water," he said.

"Yup," you said. Eren looked at you oddly. Oh, he must want an explanation or something, you realized. "The forest is very dense. Plants and trees are all very close together. The titans are too large to fit through," you explained.

"That was obvious from the start. How could you not pick up on that, idiot?" Levi asked Eren.

Eren flinched. "I-I was preoccupied with carrying Kirschtein, Sir," he defended.

"Tch. You're as dense as this forest."

Noticing everyone had finished their meal, you abruptly stood up, effectively ending your guests' conversation, and placed your empty bowl on the counter. You grabbed the bottle of onion extract and a few pieces of cloth and spun around to face the men.

"I need to treat your wounds," you said, pointing to Levi and Armin.

"They're just scratches," Levi said.

You shook your head at him. "Doesn't matter. When out in the wilderness, you are much more prone to infection. Any wound, no matter how small, has the potential to turn into something much more severe if left untreated."

Your words halted any further protesting, and you soon had cleaned and patched up all of Levi and Armin's wounds. Eren didn't have any, of course, as you recalled him having some sort of self-healing ability, which you didn't dare let them know you were aware of.

Shortly after you had put away the medical supplies, you pulled out all the pillows and blankets you had in the cabinet and handed them out to your guests. Eren, Armin, and Levi took the items and set up their beds on the floor while you unstrapped all of your weapons and pouches and carefully placed them on the cluttered table.

"Where's your blanket?" Armin asked you as you laid down on the hard wood floor across from them.

"I don't need one," you mumbled.

"But you don't even have a pillow and you' in warm clothing. You'll get cold," Armin persisted.

"I'll be fine," you said, resting your head on your arm.


"I said I'll be fine!" you snapped.

Armin looked taken aback by your harsh tone and quickly stuttered out an apology. The room had become silent as everyone settled into their makeshift beds, with the exception of Jean, who took up your bed. Exhaustion finally caught up to you and just as you were about to fall asleep, a quiet voice filled the room.

"Thank you for your hospitality, (Name)," Armin said.

A collective mumble of sleepy "thank yous" followed after from the other men in the room. Your eyes shut closed and just before sleep completely enveloped you, your lips formed into a smile.
Wow, this one took a long time to write. I kept cutting out and rewriting parts.

So, Reader has sort of indirectly appointed Armin as her sous chef, I guess. :P

Here you get to see that Reader's survival knowledge doesn't just cover hunting. And that she's a bit...blunt Why so skeptical? 

Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 5

Hajime Isayama owns Attack on Titan

I own this plot and any original characters

You own yourself
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WARNING: Contains contents which some may find offensive; if you do not believe love between two individuals of the same gender is acceptable then please turn away now. : )

Disclaimer: I do not own these historical figures.

NOTE: This story will be written in Script format with narration done by one of the characters. And PLEASE do not expect absolute historical accuracies in my story; I like to make things up here and there. Thank you, and happy reading.

(Rutkowski is entirely made up for the convenience of the story because I could not find out who it was that introduced Chopin to Liszt. If anyone knows, please leave a comment and let me know. Thanks!)


Delacroix Narration: Chopin arrived in Paris as a homesick young man looking for a place in the big city. With the help of a fellow Polish businessman, who frequented the artistic circles, managed to get an appointment with an already famous pianist.

(Scene shows Chopin walking and checking his pocket watch)

Chopin: *Stops by the door and goes in*

Concierge: Good afternoon Monsieur, may I take your coat?

Chopin: *Smiles pleasantly and takes off his coat* Oh yes, please, and my hat too. *Hands concierge his hat*

Concierge: *Bows and takes his coat and hat*

Chopin: *Walks into the salon and spots Rutkowski, a friend*

Rutkowski: My dear Frederyk, you’re right on time! *Opens his arms and embraces Chopin*

Chopin: Good afternoon Adam. *Smiles* I can’t express enough gratitude for all the troubles you went through to help me.

Rutkowski: *Puts an arm around Chopin’s shoulders* No problem at all, Frederyk. The fine gentleman you’re about to meet will no doubt boost your artistic career through the roof! *Guides Chopin to sit down*

Chopin: *Turns toward Rutkowski looking almost slightly worried* Do tell me about this Monsieur Liszt. I’ve heard about him, mostly questionable rumours about his personal life, which isn’t what I’m entirely concerned with.

Rutkowski: It’s unfortunate that’s what you hear about these days, with newspapers exploiting the poor fellow’s life. But I can assure you, *turns more towards Chopin and smiling* Monsieur Liszt’s talent definitely surpasses the number of women he’s taken to bed. *Laughs and slaps Chopin’s shoulders*

Chopin: *Gives a pointed look but does not comment* *Looks down at his pocket watch* *It was after their planned meeting time* He is late…

(A distant voice at the door grabs everyone’s attention)

“You wish to take my suit jacket? What are you going to do with it, throw it at the hungry harpies gathering outside the door waiting for me to come out? Passionate women are frightening creatures, dear lad.”

It is rather ironic that the first words Chopin heard from Liszt were his arrogant exaggeration, though meant all in good humor, towards his adoring female fans. With a hearty bark of laughter, Franz, as usual, made his entry far sooner than his actual arrival.

(Chopin stands up, looking slightly nervous)

(Scene switches to the opened door, as Liszt walks in, eyes immediately resting upon Chopin)

As dramatic as his entrance, Franz Liszt walked into the room with confident strides and a large smile plastered on his handsome face. He seemed to have lighted the whole room up with waves of joy, as he grabbed hold of the undivided attention of all in the room; it was easy for him of course, as he is a rather charismatic and charming man.

Rutkowski: Monsieur Liszt, what happened to your suit jacket?

Liszt: *Shifts his eyes away from Chopin for a brief moment* The adorable young lad at the door asked for my coat, but I had none, so I gave him my jacket!

Rutkowski: *Laughs* Always in good humor aren’t you, Monsieur Liszt!

Liszt: *Smiles* Franz would do. *Turns back to look at Chopin with interest*

Rutkowski: *Notes Liszt’s interest* Franz, please allow me to introduce to you, Monsieur Chopin.

Chopin’s first meeting with Liszt was hardly a good one, as Chopin seldom finds pleasurable company first time meeting anybody. He was painfully aware of the attractive nature of Liszt and how much of a direct opposite he was. They were as different as two men can be. And Chopin found this highly offensive to his sensitive heart, as Franz Liszt reminded him of all his shortcomings.

However, as he looked up, meeting Liszt’s intense gaze once more, felt himself unable to look away, as Liszt’s eyes seemed to be winking at him.

Chopin: It’s a great pleasure to meet you, Monsieur Liszt. *Looking flustered*

Liszt: As is mine. *Holds out his hand*

Franz’s hand was strong as he held Chopin’s slender fingers. Chopin, perhaps uncomfortable at the sight of his small hands clutched by Liszt’s large ones, found himself shaking at their first physical contact with each other. And as their hands parted, the one clad in white silk lingered and brushed just slightly against its larger counterpart.

As Rutkowski explained Chopin’s situation to Liszt, with Liszt constantly looking at Chopin, the slight figured Polish man seemed to be currently absent from the conversation regarding himself; his mind entirely concentrated elsewhere.

“I think I know how to help Monsieur Chopin.”

Liszt’s voice jolted Chopin out of his thoughts.

Liszt: *Smiles* But I am curious of his playing.

With his hands shaking and heart fluttering like butterflies, Chopin sat in front of the piano, seemingly nervous having to perform in front of a famous pianist. Perhaps the absence of his beloved white gloves made him insecure under Liszt’s watchful eyes. Liszt of course doesn’t notice this discomfort, as he leaned lightly against the piano, almost as if posing for a portrait, with another handsome but encouraging smile.

Looking down at the keys, Chopin sunk into another moment of self-consciousness. Chopin was not fit to be a performer and he knew this. His heart gives away too easily under the curious, sometimes interrogating pressure of the audience. It frightens him, to have many pairs of eyes looking at every part of him, as if to expose him of his innermost desires.

Liszt: *Reaches out and rests a hand on Chopin’s shoulder*

Chopin: *Shifts his eyes but does not look up* *Pauses a little, and lets out a light breath* *Rests his hands on the piano*

Chopin’s music won over Liszt’s heart faster than how Liszt can woo a woman, but, at the moment, Liszt was blissfully unaware that Chopin’s music won’t be the only thing he falls in love with in the future.


Prologue: [link]

Chapter Two: [link]

MANY THANKS to :icondark-spawn: for teaching me how to do Italics! =D
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