In the quiet forests of Doriath, the sunlight was falling dappled through the leaves high above. The birds were singing, the branches were rustling, small animals were hopping happily through the undergrowth. A slight breeze whispered through the trees, and a small brook murmured nearby. All in all, perfect day in the forest.
Galadriel, however, was unable to enjoy it.
"I feel disgusting," she complained, pulling sharply on her reins to steer her horse around a small bush. "Do you people never wash?"
Her Sindar guides looked offended, but were unsure how to respond. She was a high lady of the Noldor, after all. As usual when in need of guidance, they turned to their lord.
Celeborn sighed quietly and gave Galadriel a mild smile. "We will be in Menegroth very soon, my lady. Be assured that King Thingol's halls have very beautiful baths."
A frown marred the loveliness of Galadriel's face. "We will be in Menegroth in two days. I feel disgusting now." She huffed out a breath and pulled her horse to a smart stop. "Surely there is somewhere I can at least perform minor ablutions near here?" she asked, turning in her saddle and frowning at Celeborn as he drew to a halt beside her.
Celeborn looked to their guides. "Is there a river or stream nearby?" he asked.
One of them nodded. "The brook we can hear widens to a small river quite suddenly a little further down this trail, my lord," he said demurely. "If the lady wishes, she can bathe there."
Galadriel looked mildly horrified. "Bathing in a stream?" she hissed, her eyes narrowing.
Their guides shifted uncomfortably. Celeborn indicated that they should take the lead, and spurred his horse to a gentle walk behind them. "Surely you have had to do such things before?" he asked as she drew level with him again. "There were no bathing halls when you arrived from the Grinding Ice, I imagine?"
Galadriel sniffed. "Indeed. But I had my smith make a bath tub, which my ladies would fill with heated water in my tent."
Celeborn allowed himself a private smile. That is so like her. "Did you allow your brothers use of this amazing innovation?" he asked, amused.
Galadriel laughed suddenly, and then looked quite surprised that she had done so. "Of course not!" she exclaimed. "They could most certainly take themselves to the river. If I'd let even one of them use it, my maid would have been scrubbing the dirt out for weeks! Besides, Finrod alone would have insisted on sitting in there for hours upon hours, to make no mention of the rest of them."
Celeborn laughed softly. "Indeed. You are most justified in your actions."
Galadriel gave him a look that was faintly suspicious, and would have spoken had a guide not called, "My lady, the river is good for bathing here!" from up ahead.
She spurred her horse into a trot and soon came to the riverbank, where she gracefully dismounted and looked disdainfully upon the river. Celeborn joined her. "Will this be suitable?"
She sighed heavily. "In the circumstances, I suppose."
Celeborn nodded. "Take the horses a small way through the trees," he said to the guides, "Make a fire to cook some game. We may as well stop here for the evening, if the camping looks suitable to you." The guides nodded and disappeared through the trees.
Galadriel gave him another suspicious look. "And what are you intending to do yourself, Lord Celeborn?" she asked.
He shrugged. "I thought I would also take the opportunity to rid myself of the dirt of the road."
Galadriel pointed imperiously towards a bend in the river, hidden from their current position by a growth of brambles. "Well, bathe over there then," she commanded, "I am not going to bathe in the presence of an ellon, no matter how honourable he may be."
Celeborn stifled a laugh and bowed. "As you wish, my lady." He disappeared around the patch of brambles.
Sighing again, Galadriel removed her cloak and spread it on the ground, leaving her boots next to it. Checking once again that no one was within sight, she removed her leggings, tunic and shirt, and laid them on her spread cloak before stepping speedily into the river. She let out a harsh gasp at the iciness of the water, cursing under her breath.
"Is everything alright, my lady?" Celeborn's voice drifted to her from around the bend. She swore she could detect a hint of stifled laughter in his tone, so she simply made a non-committal noise and tried to adjust to the freezing temperature. It didn't appear to be getting any warmer, and now her toes were definitely numb. She washed herself at an alarmingly fast rate, gasping and panting from the cold, then skittered out as fast as her now jellied legs would carry her. Once on the grass she collapsed to her knees, and then realized she didn't have anything in the way of a towel.
"Damn it," she muttered. What an oversight! She hugged herself, feeling her teeth begin to chatter. "C-c-celeborn?" she stuttered, "D-do you h-have s-s-some kind of towel?"
There was a silence. "I have a spare cloak," he said brightly after a pause, "Will that do?"
A piece of thick cloth came flying over the brambles. She snatched it up hastily and wrapped it around herself. Not a moment too soon, it turned out, as Celeborn himself appeared shortly afterward, fully dressed and looking refreshed. "The river is chilly this time of year, is it not?" he smiled.
Galadriel brought the full force of her formidable glare to bear on him. "Celeborn. I am not yet fully dressed."
He looked surprised. "Oh."
He didn't move.
Galadriel made an impatient movement at him with her hand, catching the cloak sharply just before it fell open. "Leave. Go see to the horses or some such. Go!"
Celeborn bit his lip to contain a snort of laughter. Somehow the gracious lady of the Noldor reminded him of an angry chicken, hopping from foot to foot and waving her hand at him, the cloak flapping loosely around her lower thighs and a very angry expression on her face. "As you wish," was all he could choke out, before moving swiftly in the direction of the camp, muffling rather un-lordly giggles with the palm of his hand.
Galadriel turned back to the river and huffed as she rubbed the cloak over her shoulders. "Honestly. Males."
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 messages. The top ten will be put in bold!
Edit again: Okay okay, I've gotten about three comments now on the "Pronounce Serindė like Perindė" about how it should be pronounced "Therindė" 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.
Here we got the poem that was composed for Aragorn in Tolkien's "The Lord of the Rings".
I thought it had to go together with a picture of something rising, just as Aragorn rises from a ranger to a king, so I decided to take this wallpaper of the rising moon in the wilderness. It actually has been in my "Active Desktop" folder for ages and I nearly had forgotten about it... so I don't know who created it, it was a free download somewhere sometime.
The moon is a very strong symbol for me. It's mystic, a bit romantic, unreachable and yet very close, strong, but mild - and these are characteristics that fit my image of Aragorn quite well.
Besides, the moon and the evening star (Arwen, of course ) go together much better than the evening star and the sun, don't they? *gg*
Fonts: DS Note for the capital A and F, Tolkien for the text (yeahhhhhhh XD, tis is REALLY the font's name...) and good old Times New Roman fot the author's name
Bilbo recalls the tale of the death of two brothers, Fili and Kili, as they fought with great vigor in The Battle of Five Armies to his little nephew, Frodo Baggins. "Don't go... please..." Fili called, holding Kili's dying frame close, silence enveloped them, and Fili thought that he had left Middle Earth without him. "Kili!"
"Uncle Bilbo!" I heard Frodo call, chuckling to myself as I remembered my own days as a young hobbit and trying to avoid sleep. Much like Frodo was doing now; I walked briskly into his room and pulled open the door.
Placing a stern look on my face, as this was the third time Frodo has called to me since I put him to bed an hour ago. Frodo was still a young hobbit of only 8 years, and extremely mischievous at that too. Probably from his Took side, mind you.
Frodo smiled a grin so wide I knew that it probably hurt, "Today is Tuesday, Uncle!" I shot him an inquisitive look and he stared right back at me from underneath his covers. Positioning himself up in a sitting position.
"Yes and tomorrow is Wednesday." I returned, not gaining his point.
He sighed, "Don't tell me you forgot already, Uncle!"
"Forgot what?" I asked, flabbergasted.
"That today is Story Tuesday!" He responded, "Story Tuesday?" I asked deadpanned.
"Yes, which means you must tell me a story of one of your adventures!" Frodo practically screamed, bouncing up and down with excitement. I scratched my head, wanting to get back to my book that Gandalf had sent about elves of some sort. I had the perfect idea,
"Story Tuesday, why I remember that day back when I was young! I had forgotten about Story Tuesday, but you remember the last half of the arrangement. Don't you Frodo?" I asked, knowing completely well that this 'Story Tuesday' business was something Frodo had just made up.
He looked at me in shock, undoubtedly because I was going along with his little fairy tale. But he quickly covered it up, and shook his head no.
"Let me enlighten you then," I said, pausing before continuing. "On Story Tuesday your guardian has to tell you about one of their adventures, yes?" I asked, keeping him in the conversation. He nodded, "But to tell the story that audience has to agree to stay in bed and fall asleep afterwards, am I correct?" Once again, Frodo nodded his approval.
"Then get comfortable, because this story will be rather long." I stated, waiting patiently as he did exactly that before starting.
"Long ago there were two dwarves, brothers actually, named Fili and Kili. Nephews of the Dwarf Prince, Thorin Oakenshield. During this time the dwarves had no mountain to call their own." I paused,
"Remember how I told you dwarves lived in mountains?" I asked, and Frodo replied with a quick "Yes!" Gesturing for me to continue.
"They had no mountain as the one which was rightfully theirs had been stolen from them by the fierce dragon, Smaug. They fought in The Battle of The Five Armies, in hopes of reclaiming it..."
They fought with fidelity, Kili and Fili. The seemingly everlasting sound of metal clashing together in sparks, slicing through flesh and many attacks which were parried had long since became a devastating hum to their ears. The shrill calls of both pain and death were no longer considered abnormal to them.
When they had agreed to go on this journey they had come to one common concurrence that would prove to be most pernicious to them in the long run. They both knew the risks, but they never were more definite then in the next few moments of their lives...
They had long since been protected by their Uncle Thorin, rightful heir as the King Under the Mountain. Still yet a Prince, he wasted no time in trying to reclaim his lost Kingdom. From the time of the brother's birth to the Battle of the Five Armies he had guarded and been most devoted to them.
Undoubtedly, it made complete sense for them to return the favor. Even, if it meant death. They knew that they would probably die, but they never acknowledged it. They had continued to be convivial, even as far as being sanguine in their last moments on Middle Earth.
Thorin was a very placid dwarf, a skill he had mastered over many years of sorrow and brooding. That is why he found it most intractable as he watched his two nephews fall before his very eyes. That is why his whole world stopped as he became nothing but an observer to the unfolding tragic events. It was all like a lucid dream, except he had no control. He was their protector, the father they never had. They would die and it was all because of him.
They had rushed forward, Kili sending a folly of arrows at any creature which dare attempted to harm his Uncle. Desperately trying to save Thorin from death, not giving a surfeit of thought that his own was right around the corner, that he had inadvertently taken the first and final step in the Great Halls of Durin.
Kili had been struck numerous times by arrows, but still he stood and continued to fight with great vigor and undying strength. Fili fought alongside him, slashing his sword this way and that through the disgustingly odiferous body of trolls and orcs. He cried in terror as he watched an arrow pierce his younger brother's skin, through his stomach and out the other end.
Still, they both fought on. Fili would not, could not, leave his brothers side. Even as a second arrow went through his own chest. He would never have stopped fighting, not until he was struck down and dead. It would have ended that way, if it had not been for the harsh thud of his brother alongside of him as his broken and battered body fell to the ground.
Fili winced once, and then again as another sharp and biting pain racked his body and coursed through veins. He scowled, falling to his knees he looked over at Kili, noting harrowingly the three arrows protruding from his midsection. Idly he noticed the two through his own body, but paid them no second thought.
He looked over to his left and saw Thorin being lifted Beorn, and sighed in relief that he would no longer need their assistance. Quickly turning his full attention to Kili, falling completely to the ground as the pain became unbearable and dragged himself across the battle ground, over the reek of dead bodies to his dying brother.
"Kili..." The name passed through Fili's dreadfully dry and cracked lips as he laid his head next to Kili's. Wrapping his arm around Kili's waist, the only place free of blood-soaked arrows.
"Fili..." He barely heard the audible reply of his own name being uttered and answered the unasked question he knew Kili needed to hear.
"Uncle is safe, brother. Beorn has carried him into the mountain..." Remembering the harsh scene of his Uncle's lifeless looking body. Unconsciously removing some stray strands of Kili's blood-soaked hair from his face and tucked it behind his ear.
Kili held a grin weakly on his face, and took a deep breath before saying; "We... did it," he breathed on a shaky exhale. Taking in less air than his last breath, Fili noticed with sorrow.
"Yes," Fili intertwined his fingers with Kili's own and he gently laid their foreheads together, desperately wanting Kili to open his eyes, to look into those earth-colored orbs of his brother once again to see life. "Yes... we have."
There was a horribly long pause, which felt like centuries to Fili before he heard the whisper, "Fi-li...," another shallow breath, " hurt?"
Fili found his eyes brimming with unshed tears at those words and held back a chocked sob, "No... not anymore, Kili. Are you?" His heart was hammering in his chest, he felt like he was the anvil that a dwarf was using to smith a sword and a hammer was being mercilessly brought upon him. He didn't want Kili to know that though
Kili looked up at his brother and Fili saw the slight nod of affirmation. That yes, he was in pain. And for the very first time Fili saw Kili cry his own tears. Making their journey down his face, leaving a clear trail through the dirt and grime, Fili wiped them away for his brother. Knowing his brother hated showing any sort of weakness.
They stayed there like that for a while, just holding each other and breathing. Before long one of them spoke, "scared..." Kili muttered, closing his chestnut eyes slowly.
Fili managed a strained chuckle, his own breathing now becoming labored and painful. "It's alright, I am here. We're fighters, brother."
"Warriors..." Kili coughed wetly, his breathing becoming shorter and increasing in speed.
Realizing what was happening Fili tightening his hold on Kili's waist, the only place absent of blood soaked arrows. "Don't go... please..." Fili muttered, hugging him tighter, his voice deep yet rough with unmasked pain.
"Honorable..." Kili muttered, opening his eyes again before clenching them shut. His breaths had become miniscule and minutely soft, barely able to be heard.
"Death? Yes..." Fili closed his own eyes; Kili had moved his head on its side, no longer having the strength to hold it straight up. Their faces now faced the others both hoped with all their soul that they could depart from this world hand in hand, like always.
Silence enveloped them, and Fili thought that Kili had left without him. "Kili!" He called, though it wasn't near as loud as he would have hoped.
The last beats of Fili's heart soared as he heard the splutter of a quiet and harsh breath from the cooling body beside him, listening attentively to the last words from Kili's rich voice that he would ever hear.
"Together, ... brother?"
Fili leaned into Kili, both of them looking at each other's eyes for what would be the last time. Squeezing him impossibly closer, a crooked smile made itself at home on Fili's face. And for the first and last time, Fili's only tears ever shed escaped.
"Together, little brother."
I finished, wiping away the tears that I didn't know were falling, and sniffled.
"Why are you crying, Uncle Bilbo?" Frodo asked his voice deeper than normal with the need for sleep.
"B-because they were very dear friends to me, Frodo... that is why." My voice was thick with emotion, and I held back a sob.
"How did you know that was how they died?" Frodo asked, I pondered over how a young Hobbit could have so many questions to ask before answering.
"I don't," I said curtly, not quite enjoying this conversation but knowing that it was I who brought this incident up. "But let us not talk about this anymore, for they are in a better place and are much happier now."
Frodo nodded again, and snuggled himself up into his covers. I sat with him for a while more, and once I thought him asleep I laid a kiss on his forehead and bid him goodnight.
Walking out of the room my hand was on the doorknob when I heard his soft childish voice, muffled by the covers.
"How do you know that they were happy, Uncle?" I struggled with this question for a few moments, before deciding on what I thought to be the best answer.
"I know because they had gotten their last wish - to leave Middle Earth as they lived it... together, brothers in arms."
To share with you the main reason I wrote this "story" was because I thought it unfair that in the novel, The Hobbit, characters Fili and Kili never were given an honorable death by their creator, J. R. R. Tolkien.
Sure, some may say "Well he wrote that they died defending Thorin." Tolkien did say that, but I personally thought that they deserved more than a mere mention. This isn't an Alternate Universe/Ending in any form, so this wouldn't really affect the direct storyline of The Hobbit.
Since Tolkien never wrote a descriptive scene on the death of these two brothers, one could assume that no one was there but them to witness it. Resulting in Bilbo's reply to Frodo's question that he does not know how Fili and Kili died. Rather, this was how he would have imagined it to be if were there at those last moments.
Do you guys think the summary is good?
Do you think I should just cut the Bilbo and Frodo bit out?
NOTIC I M P O R T A N T: The original story is by Rory Chaze here on or as ~Padfooted-Beatle on Deviantart. This version is much longer then his and I had the approval of creating and posting this. All I have done is improved the original to the best of my ability. (About 1,600+ words of detail to be precise.)
Bilbo recalls the tale of the death of two brothers, Fili and Kili, as they fought with great vigor in The Battle of Five Armies to his little nephew, Frodo Baggins. "Don't go... please..." Fili called, holding Kili's dying frame close, silence enveloped them, and Fili thought that he had left Middle Earth without him. "Kili!"
. . .
I M P O R T A N T
I had originally seen the image by Brilcrist [link] and actually cried as that work of art possessed such beauty and sorrow.
From there I went forward unto a link presented by Brilcrist of a fictional tale [link] written by ~Padfooted-Beatle: concerning that picture.
Upon reading it I was deeply touched and thought it wondrous, but was most disturbed by the shortness of it and room for even more detail.
I asked her permission before posting this, and this is what I have made out of it. I thank her, Brilcrist and all my readers out there for reading this and allowing me to make it.
. . .
I might actually be continuing this involving Bilbo dreaming about Fili and Kili. Or! I might just make that an entirely different story itself. I'd appreciate your opinions greatly!
The morning sky seemed dim in the land of Rohan. No purples, oranges, or pinks could be found behind the clouds. They had been replaced by an odd blue color that had the slightest tint of grey to it. While it wasn’t hideous, it certainly did nothing to brighten the already dying land. You had come to Rohan because orcs invaded your small village, burning everything they touched. The smell of ash and blood still lingered in the air, though nobody else seemed to notice. Perhaps the memory remained with you because you experienced the tragic slaughter. You not only experienced it, but you were forced to watch it. The sound of skin being torn apart still found its way into your ears, tormenting your already troubled mind.
The sound of deafening screams drifted into your small home. Blood and burning flesh polluted the air, causing you to gag. The village was under attack, no doubt because of the orcs. Something had been giving them courage. Why else would they attack a village in the lands of Rohan? “(Name),” your father started breathlessly as he entered your home. He had black blood splattered across his face as well as his own blood spilling from his lip. “I want you to hide until it is safe. When the orcs are gone, we will ride to Rohan to tell the King of this invasion.” Your father placed a dagger in your hands. “I will return,” he whispered before kissing the top of your head as if you were still a child. “What about mother?” You asked quietly. His face grew dark. “An orc has captured her. There will be time to explain later. Now hide!” Your father quickly shoved you into the small room where the herbs were stored. There were thin cracks in the door which allowed you to see into the main room of your home. Just as your father picked up his sword, an orc appeared behind him. Without warning, his throat had been slit. You covered your mouth in order to contain the sobs that threatened to escape your throat. After a few moments, another orc entered the room. He dragged a woman behind him, hands tangled roughly in her hair. “What should we do with this one?” He asked, showing his rotting teeth. “Kill her,” the other orc commanded. “Only children are to be taken alive. He says a child carries the ring and that we must bring it alive.” The orc holding your mother threw her roughly on the ground, placing his foot on her back and slamming his sword into her flesh. Yet again you were forced to look away, fearing that you were next. The sucking sound of the orc’s sword pulling out of your mother’s back made you turn your attention back to the pair though. They glanced around the room for a few moments, and then simply left. You waited a few minutes before you sprinted into the main room, kneeling down beside your parent’s bodies. Your mother’s hair had been stained with her own blood that pooled around her body, and your father’s eyes remained wide open in shock. He didn’t see it coming because he was too busy worrying about you. “I will not let your deaths be in vain,” you whispered as you placed the dagger into your boot. After checking to see if the way was clear, you mounted your ebony black horse and rode in the direction of the kingdom of Rohan.
Your memory began to fade as you slowly returned to the present. Only two weeks had passed since that tragic day, and you continued to dream of the attack. It wasn’t something that could be easily forgotten. Not even sweet Eowyn could ease your pain. “Why are you sitting alone?” Out of the corner of your eye you noticed Eowyn sit on the stone stairway beside you. “My memories will surely destroy me. I feel as though I am to blame. Should I have done something to help them?” Your question came out a little above a whisper. Eowyn gently placed a hand on your shoulder. “You were brave, (Name). There is nothing to be ashamed of. You did as your father instructed.” “Then why do I feel as though the mere memory of him is haunting me?” “We cannot pretend to understand death, but I do know one thing. You must be strong.” Eowyn knew this all too well. The previous day had been quite traumatic for her as well. Death had claimed Theodred, and not long after, a group of four strangers –an elf, a dwarf, a man, and a wizard- had appeared. The wizard somehow managed to rid Theoden of the evil presence that had been controlling him as well as the manipulative advisor. “Thank you,” you whispered, pulling Eowyn out of her thoughts. “I think I will visit my horse for a while. She is not accustom to being away from me for so long.” Your horse eased your pain, if only for a little while. She made the world seem less evil with every whinny she let out. It gave you tranquility. You sighed in content as you leaned your head against your horse’s mane. She gave a small huff of approval as you stroked your fingers through her hair. “Sometimes I feel as though you are all I have left. You’re the only real thing in my life.” You closed your eyes, nuzzling your face against the horse. “I fear losing the one thing I have left. Shall you leave me as well?” The sound of footsteps suddenly caught your attention. You whipped your head around to see a man with dark hair and light eyes. The man who traveled with the wizard. “Forgive me,” the man spoke softly, as if he would frighten you if he spoke too loudly. “I am Aragorn, and I suspect you are (Name)?” “How did you know?” “Lord Theoden has spoken of the attack on your village. I am very sorry for your loss.” Aragorn stepped forward, making you move closer to your horse. “Lady Eowyn speaks as if you have lost hope in yourself as well as the world.” You turned your head away from the man, hiding the pain in your eyes. “Hope is forsaken in these lands. I will not pretend the world is in order. Orcs are invading villages searching for the ring of power. If they find it, then we are lost.” The sound of footsteps appeared once again and stopped when you felt a presence close behind you. Aragorn placed his hand on your cheek as he turned your face to meet with his own. “Then we must not let them find it,” he said with a small smirk. His hypnotizing eyes stared into yours, searching for any sign of doubt. “Do you have no faith in the world?” “I have no faith in myself,” you whispered, staring at the ground. “And what would make you have faith in yourself once more?” Aragorn’s words surprised you. He had only just met you, and yet he displayed a kindness you had never known. He left you at a loss for words. You were only able to stare into his eyes, which seemed so full of life and hope. A few minutes passed before you finally managed to find the words to say. “What makes you have faith in yourself? What makes you hopeful?” Aragorn leaned his head to the side in confusion. If anybody else had asked him, then he would have known what to say. This girl, or rather woman, was different. She had a way of turning Aragon’s words or questions around to him once again. “I suppose I believe the future will be better,” Aragorn answered. “As for why I think that way…” The man’s voice trailed off as he thought of a sufficient answer. “I’m not exactly sure. Maybe we can figure that out together.” Before you could respond, the elf who traveled with the man appeared in the doorway. “Aragorn, the King wishes to—.” He became silent when he noticed his friend speaking with a rather depressed looking woman. “I must go now,” Aragorn explained. He took your hand gently in his, placing a soft kiss on it before bowing lowly. “Until next time, Lady (Name).”
So I noticed that there weren't very many Aragorn x Reader stories. I decided to write one of my own just to see how it works out. If someone ends up wanting a part 2 then I might make this into a series but I don't know yet. :3 Hope you enjoy! Oh and I got the picture off Google Images so I don't own that!
You watched Eowyn move gracefully across the field. She held a sword firmly in her hands, swinging it in ways that seemed almost impossible to you. Her hair whipped around her face as she turned swiftly to give her ‘enemy’ the final blow. Of course, the enemy was simply a sack Eowyn had filled with straw. Small lines could be seen where she repaired the sack after each practice, only to damage it once again. She truly was amazing. Her beauty and fiery passion never ceased to amaze you. She became even more stunning when you realized she had skill with a sword. The only weapon you ever held was the dagger your father gave you, which now sat in your room in the castle. “Come,” Eowyn commanded, holding out her sword. “It’s your turn.” “Um but I…” You bit your lip in nervousness. Truthfully, you left your dagger at the castle in hopes that it would get you out of training. Your last training session with Eowyn ended with your dagger flying over the girl’s head, by accident of course. “(Name), you wanted to learn how to fight. How can you learn if you refuse to try?” Eowyn helped you stand and placed the sword in your open palm. “All you have to do is remember what I did.” With a sigh, you began moving the sword around. It felt awkward in your hands, which in return made it look even worse. You tried to remember Eowyn’s movements, but somehow you managed to ruin that as well. “You’re doing fine,” Eowyn reassured you, laughing softly. “You’re just thinking too much!” You let out a frustrated groan and dropped the sword on the ground. “I’m hopeless. How do you do it?” Eowyn smiled in sympathy as she placed the sword back in the belt at her side. “Constant practice. Now let’s get you cleaned up. I think it’s time for dinner.” “Alright.” You turned to follow your friend back to the castle, suddenly feeling a pair of eyes watching your every move.
“What are ya doing out here?” Gimli asked, stepping out of the castle to stand beside his friend. He followed Aragorn’s gaze until his eyes landed on a pair of women in the field. One he recognized as Eowyn, but he couldn’t remember the other girl’s name. They appeared to be practicing. Well, Eowyn was practicing while the other simply tried her best. “She’s not too good with a sword, eh?” Aragorn smiled slightly. He thought it was kind of cute to see you get so frustrated about something so simple to him. “It appears not.” “Maybe you should help her,” Gandalf suddenly chimed into the conversation. He wore his usual knowing smile as he faced the man in front of him. Aragorn lowered his gaze to find you walking up the stairs to the castle. You seemed almost happy, laughing with Eowyn as if your life hadn’t been destroyed by the very thing Aragorn despised. Your smile was enough to make his own lips curl upwards. Maybe all you needed to relieve your anger and sorrow was companionship. Could he give that to you? No, he thought to himself. It was much too early for him to think about such things. He planned on getting as close to you as possible though. “Dinner has been prepared if you would like to join us.” Eowyn’s voice interrupted Aragorn’s thoughts. She had a hopeful smile on her face, which confused Aragorn. He couldn’t tell if it was because of (Name) or if it was because of him. He focused his attention on you, finding your smile gone as well as the happiness that previously lit up your face. Aragorn frowned slightly before he bowed in response. “She still has hope,” Gandalf said after the two women entered the castle, leaving the dwarf, the man and the wizard alone. “She just needs to be reassured.” “What do you mean?” Aragorn was puzzled. What did her reassurance have to do with him? Gandalf simply smiled and winked in response before he joined the others in the castle, leaving Aragorn and Gimli bewildered. “Well,” Gimli started after a while. “Better get in there so we can eat. Hope they have enough. You might have to go without food if I beat you to the table.” Aragorn laughed slightly but Gimli’s face showed no traces of humor. “That wasn’t a joke lad.”
Dinner was lively enough, especially with Gimli there. He told stories of his kind that made everyone else erupt with laughter, but you simply smiled. An occasional laugh would slip from your lips; however, most of your attention focused on the man sitting beside the dwarf. It felt as though Aragorn’s eyes never left your form, even when he looked away from you. His gaze left a lingering blush on your cheeks though you weren’t sure why. It made you feel uneasy. “I think I’m going to retire for the night,” you stated quietly, standing just as Aragorn stood from his seat. The once loud gathering went silent as the two of you stared at each other before you broke eye contact and walked in the direction of your room. You let out a breath you didn’t know you had been holding in once you entered the concealed walls of your room. “What was that? Why did he just keep staring at me?” Ever since Aragorn arrived, he seemed to keep a close eye on you, but why? Your mind ventured back to the day you first met in the horse stalls. The way your heart raced when he stood so close made you blush furiously. He gained your attention without even trying, and it infuriated you for some reason. After deciding sleep was out of the question, you grabbed your dagger and quietly made your way out of the castle to the practice fields. At least you couldn’t injure anyone if you were alone, or so you thought. The first time you threw your dagger it landed in a bush beside the tree you were aiming at. The second time it landed on the grass because you didn’t throw it hard enough. “Why am I so bad at this?!” You grabbed your dagger and slammed it into the ground beside you, making it stand straight up. Eowyn made it look so easy. She had everything: beauty, power, strength, skill. “I’m just walking in her shadow,” you mumbled to yourself. Aragorn couldn’t stand and watch any longer. He leaned down, hoisting your dagger out of the ground and throwing it at the tree. It hit the mark perfectly. “Whose shadow are you walking in?” You jumped in surprise, turning around to see Aragorn. The moonlight shined in his abnormally bright eyes. He looked like a prince. “I did not mean to frighten you, my apologies,” he stated and bowed as if you were royalty. “I heard something so I followed the noise until I found you. What are you doing out here alone? It isn’t safe for you.” A frown found its way onto your lips as your eyes narrowed. “I come here to think sometimes. I wanted to practice but obviously I’m not very good at that either.” You stood to your full height, although you were still shorter than Aragorn. “Why do you care?” Aragorn’s eyes widened slightly. “I just don’t think it’s suitable for you to be here by yourself. What if an orc stumbled out of the forest? You aren’t very skilled with weaponry.” He didn’t give you time to reply before he added, “I could teach you.” “Eowyn has already tried,” you sighed. “I don’t think fighting is for me. After all, I’m a woman. I’m not permitted to fight alongside men.” “But you still need to learn to defend yourself,” Aragorn stated as he retrieved the dagger he had thrown. “You’re thinking about it too much, and you’re thinking about failing before the dagger even leaves your hand.” He placed the dagger in your palm, staring into your eyes. “Try again.” His fingertips lightly brushed over yours as he pulled away. “Follow my lead.” He pulled a dagger out of his boot and threw it directly at the tree, hitting the same spot as before. “Now try to throw your dagger above mine.” You started to protest but stopped when Aragorn gave you a look of disapproval. With a sigh, you calmed your nerves and let the dagger fly out of your hand. It hit the side of the tree then fell to the ground. “That was better,” Aragorn stated as he retrieved both daggers. “Here.” He placed the dagger in your hand once more, but this time he wrapped his hand around your own. “Focus on the target and then just let go. Don’t hold back.” He kept his hand on yours to demonstrate how your arm, wrist and hand should move. “Now try again.” After a few more tries, you eventually got the dagger to hit the tree and stay there. It wasn’t exactly on the mark, but you were happy to have accomplished something. “See,” Aragorn exclaimed with a smile. “You just have to keep trying.” You nodded with a small smile, yawning slightly. It had taken most of the night to complete the lesson. The sun already illuminated the sky with a slight tint of orange and pink; nevertheless, you were grateful to Aragorn for helping you. “Thank you.” He shook his head in response. “I should apologize for keeping you from sleeping. Maybe after you get some rest we can work with a sword.” You nodded happily. “If you don’t mind. I wouldn’t want to distract you from your work or the quest.” Aragorn wanted to say that he didn’t mind as long as you kept smiling, but he sufficed for a shrug. “I enjoy spending time with you. You’re making me understand why I have hope in the world. I can only hope that I’m doing the same for you.” Was he really? You had to admit you felt happy with the man. It would be a lie if you said he didn’t give you some reassurance. Aragorn was definitely growing on you.
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.
"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.
"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.
"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.
It didn't matter which twin you chose right? As long as one went to help with Tamaki...right?
You knew the difference between the twins, you knew they were individuals as much as you and Haruhi were as well as twins. You could tell them apart with ease, and never failed at the 'which one is Hikaru game'. Maybe that's why the three of you were so close... But anyway, even though you knew they were different, that didn't impact on your choice. Why would it, it's not like you had a preference for one of them... right...? Shaking your head to get rid of the thoughts that were clouding your mind and causing you to blush ever so slightly, you picked an arm to loosen. Gently you withdrew your arm that was linked with Kaoru's ever so slightly.
The boys eyes flicked towards you at the movement, understanding your choice. He nodded at you, taking his arm back completely. He turned to face Haruhi and jogged off to go help her.
"Well well, it's just you and me huh?" Hikaru grinned at you and you gulped.
Just like Haruhi, you were a 'commoner' who lived in an average sized house. Your attendance at Ouran was due to incredible test scores, and you and only a limited number of other people in the same financial predicament as you gained access. So far however, only the twins had been to your house. Hence why Hikaru was easily leading the way, a couple of steps ahead of you.
"Wait up will you? It's not like we're going to my house or anything is it?" You sighed, seeing the boys excitement in his bouncy step. He was the same as the rest of the club were when you all went to Haruhi's house. For them it was a completely different world.
"Why don't you try and catch up to me?" He teased, walking backwards to look at your reaction.
"How about I don't do that." You sighed. Suddenly Hikaru stopped still and you almost walked into him.
"Wow, Hikaru, what are you doing?"
"What's up with you today grumpy guts?" He asked, folding his arms and staring at you.
"Ah! I-I'm not grumpy!" You gasped.
"Sure you're not. So, what's with the big frown?"
"I'm not frowning!" You covered your face up quickly, hiding from Hikaru's scrutinising stare. And then it dawned on you.
"Will you quit teasing me?" You demanded, and began to walk around the self appointed obstruction in your path. Looking left you saw a path that led to the back of some buildings. You'd never been down there before. Not much point really. You carried on walking straight by.
"You make it so easy for me though!" Hikaru complained, poking your side and causing you to gasp quite loudly. People turned to look at you in shock as Hikaru laughed.
"Don't do that man!" You uttered in embarrassment as people tutted at you for making them worry unnecessarily.
"Come on, I'm only having some fun." Hikaru smiled at you and linked arms.
"For you maybe" you rolled your eyes but didn't move your arm. Hikaru sure loved teasing the hell out of you.
"Oh pleeeease let me come in? Just for a little while!"
"Don't scold me. I can behave." Hikaru was stood with you on your door step to your house, which you knew was empty due to parents being at work.
"I just don't see the fascination." You sighed, putting the key in the lock.
"Of course not, you live here after all." Hikaru grinned, excited to be let into your house again.
Pushing the door back, you entered your house closely followed by one excitable bouncing auburn haired boy.
"Kaoru would be so jealous if he knew I was here without him." Hikaru chuckled, throwing himself down on the sofa in your living room.
"I honestly don't get it with you guys. Anyway, tea? Or maybe coffee?" You decided to be a good host at least. After all, you were told you were part of the host club and should act hostly only this morning.
"Nah thank you."
Shocked, you turned to face Hikaru. He'd never turned down tea before.
"No, I don't feel like it right now." He smiled and patted the sofa beside him signalling you to sit next to him. You wondered over and sat, wondering if anything was wrong.
"Anything wrong Hikaru?"
Hikaru was glancing at the floor now, suddenly very interested in the rug at his feet. He mumbled something under his breath, his cheeks becoming suddenly very pink.
Without warning Hikaru faced you and gripped your shoulders, pushing you back into the sofa.
A pressure on your lips cut you off and you realised... That Hikaru was kissing you. His soft lips moved against yours, deep and slow, a quiet hum of appreciation or happiness sounded at the back of his throat as he kissed you. Slowly he withdrew only slightly, catching some breath. You didn't move from under him. He was smiling, his hazel eyes shining at you, cheeks still a dark rosy colour.
"H-Hikaru..." You breathed.
"I said that I...I like you." A brilliant red hue blossomed over his cheeks, darker still than before. He was stumbling over his words, struggling to get them out and still sound coherent. Those hazel eyes couldn't manage to keep your stare and adverted to the left.
"H-how easy it is for me, to just...be with you. Never before have we l-let someone this close to our world. B-but you you're different... You fit so well in o-our world." The sentences were rushed as Hikaru spoke them, still adamantly refusing to meet your gaze. His fingers that were still wrapped around your shoulders were shaking ever so slightly. Nerves?
Suddenly he laughed, a short hard laugh at himself.
"I don't do well with these kinds of things. It took me a while to...to admit to myself my... Uh, f-feelings. You just wouldn't leave my head, the stubborn girl you are." At this his eyes softened and finally lifted to look at you.
"Say something." He almost pleaded you.
You were so overwhelmed and shocked by this sudden confession, that you just stared at him back, wonder and bemusement etched on your features. You were suddenly very aware of how close he was, leaning over you, holding your shoulders in a tight grip. Your own hands had shot up to hold his shoulder up when he'd moved so suddenly, like an automatic reaction, and now you were aware of the very firm muscles of his arms.
You gulped, thankful he couldn't read minds.
"[name], why aren't you talking?" Hikaru's eyebrows puckered slightly in a faint frown, anxious and nervous for your reaction he wasn't receiving verbally.
"I...I'm just surprised... This is so sudden." You told him the truth. Sudden, but if you were honest, not unwanted.
Suddenly Hikaru sat up, pulling away from you and leaving you laid out on the sofa in wonder.
There was a change you noted in Hikaru's voice. It wasn't as low and silky as it had been just then... He sounded... hurt.
"Hikaru...?" You asked, also sitting up, debating whether to put a hand on his shoulder or not in a consoling gesture. But before you could make up your mind, Hikaru rose.
"I should probably be going." He said, not looking at you but straight ahead. This was odd, not the Hikaru you knew. He seemed more distant now, almost a different person.
"Hikaru! Wait!" You gasped as he began to head to the door. He stopped in his tracks, but didn't turn around.
"I have to leave. You can call one of your other friends if you want." His fist tightened, but you couldn't see the sad expression on his face with his back to you.
It was no use. Two strides and he'd reached the door, opening it and leaving without another word.
I hope you liked this first part! ^^ Go ahead and don't be afraid to tell me what you thought. Also, I suspect maybe some people will read both Hikaru's and Kaoru's paths... if so can you tell the differences in nature? I hope I write them well, they may be twins but they both handle things differently!
Any way, hope you enjoyed! ^^ Let me know if you would like the next chapter! ^^
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."
"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."
"So...um...(Name)," 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."
"So...how 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're...um...not 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.
The Travellers (or: A Sad Sort of Melancholy Melody) A short story. By V.K. Violette
WARNING: I dont 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 Frederyks 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 wouldnt forgive me- no need to permanently engrave the details in writing. I dont 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. Im sure of it. Well, at least on Chopins 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 dAgoult 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! Im so excited about visiting Hungary! Are you going to show me where you grew up?
Liszt grinned, eager due to Chopins eagerness. Haha, yes of course! I will show you everything in Hungary, down to my parents 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. Its a week-long drive, isnt it?
I dont know. Its part of the adventure! Liszt said, winking at Chopin who began to blush. Besides, he continued, taking Chopins hand in his own, we have plenty of things to do and see. We dont want to miss the sights of Europe! We only have so long to live!
Chopin blushed at Liszts contact, even more so when the Hungarian slid Chopins gloves off his hands.
Chopinetto, you dont need to just see the world- you need to touch the world too! So many textures, from piano keys to the wild grass to Liszts voice sunk low the skin of another.
The Polish mans 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 ones 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 mans smaller ones, peering at him with his soulful, azure eyes.
We are free, Chopinetto, he said, clutching Chopins 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- its just us! You and I and music, oh the music we shall make Chopinetto! Liszts 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 others 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 Liszts musky scent- the scent of cigars and the smell of home.
What is bothering you, Chopinetto? Liszt asked gently, practically purring into Chopins ear. The Hungarian couldnt 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 wasnt 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 dAgoult to start rumors about it, he noted wryly.
Chopin shivered, feeling Liszts cool breath against the inside of his ear. He involuntarily leaned into the others touch. Outside of the carriage, the sun had gone down completely, leaving the two pianists in the dark. Chopin whispered Liszts 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 havent 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 Ive kept within me-
-love you. They said at the same time.
Surprise was etched upon the two mens 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 Chopinettos hair. Said man whimpered, intimidated by the Hungarians animalistic hunger for him, and it took him great strength to push the other man away, noticing the hurt, yet hazy look on the youngers face.
Im sorry, Chopinsky, Liszt said with regret.
No, Franz its not whatever youre thinking! We have plenty of time together on this trip of ours- lets not spoil it so quickly.
Liszt grinned. My, Frederyk, he smirked, was that flirtation, or was that my mind making tricks?
Chopins face turned scarlet, and he looked down at his feet. Liszt tipped his chin upward, peering into the other mans eyes, raw emotion reflected in both.
Chopins eyes fluttered shut as he leaned into Liszt for a soft, chaste kiss. The Hungarian caressed his now-lovers face, his lips dancing about the elders 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 dont want to go home.
Overcome by the emotions the Hungarian had locked within him for so long, Liszt crashed his lips to Chopins 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 cant write a love scene depicting my Frederyk in someone elses 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 isnt 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.
A totally (somewhat plotless) Fluff-let done for an art trade with for her drawing of Achille, which is SO AWESOME by the way. Check out her gallery! She's pretty darn good!
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.
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.
Dedications: ~Miyuko-101 for her awesome art trade with me! Hope to do it again sometime!