Aragorn X Reader - Tumblr Posts

It Matters Not

Request: Can I get one where Aragorn falls in love with a low-born elf, and convinces them that the class difference is not a problem?

Aragorn x elf!Reader

Gender-neutral reader

No content warnings

1.1k words

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Hidden behind the twisting branches of a tree, you watched from the balcony as Aragorn spoke to Elrond in hushed tones below you. Aragorn’s brow was drawn and his shoulders were tight. His hair tumbled over his face, bedraggled and damp, and his clothes were splattered with mud. Elrond’s mouth was pressed into a thin line, displeased. Whatever words passed between them were too low for even your elf ears to hear. You crept closer, sparing a glance behind you to ensure no one witnessed your eavesdropping, and peered through the scant leaves.

Aragorn had been gone for over a month. There had been no word from the Rangers, no messengers to Rivendell, and your love for him, harboured so deeply and so secretly, meant that you could go to no one to ask. Aragorn shook his head at Elrond, his hair shifting in the process, and you imagined what he would look like with a crown upon his head. He would stand tall and proud, like the kings of old, noble and stately. There would be a softness in his grey eyes but strength in his arms, and there would be someone beside him. Someone who could match his high standing, who had noble blood running through them.

Someone, that was not you.

You were naught but an orphaned elf, found stray and wandering as a child, brought to Rivendell. It was not possible that someone like you could claim to stand at the side of a king. Whatever time you had with him was finite, nothing more than a passing dream that you would hold close and dear when it was over. Your heart wrenched at the sight of him. How much longer will you be able to gaze upon him so freely? How much longer could you call him yours in your heart?

Tears burned at the corners of your eyes and you turned away, fleeing to the overgrown gardens where the two of you would walk when he visited Rivendell.

Dried leaves littered the path and shady trees formed a canopy overhead. Light filtered in through the green, marbling the pavement and suspending dust in its beams. The last time you were together, you had walked here with him. He told you stories of his Rangers, amusing cooking mishaps, close calls with the enemy, his voice low and gravelly. The back of his hand had brushed yours, rough skin against smooth, and every graze marked your skin with warmth.

There had been a moment, down some untrodden path, hidden from the prying eyes of the world, that he paused and turned to face you. He brought his hand to your cheek, tracing the curve of your face with his thumb, and looked into your eyes. ‘Do not fret in my absence,’ he said, ‘I will come back.’

Back, yes. But he could never stay. Never for more than a week at a time. He would claim the throne one day, and be borne away from you. You fisted the delicate fabric of your robes. Perhaps it would be better to avoid seeing him this time; it would only sharpen the pain.

“I thought I would find you here,” a familiar voice said, and you turned. Aragorn stood between the trees with a small smirk on his face. Dirt still clung to patches of his skin, and you spotted more than one small leaf tangled in his hair. “Forgive my appearance. I wanted to come see you.”

“Perhaps,” you began slowly, “It would be better if we do not see each other.”

His smile morphed into a frown and his grey eyes grew troubled. “Meleth nin?”

“We have loved each other in secret.” Your voice cracked and you took a breath. “So let it too be in secret that we part.” He took a step forward. He raised his arm, as if to touch you, but then dropped it.

“Do you… ” He paused and his voice dropped to a whisper. “Is there another that you now love?”

“No!” You cried and reached out to him. You fell into his arms and he embraced you. A practised movement, done a thousand times in the past. “There is no other.”

He brought his forehead to yours. You felt his breath against your cheek. “Then what troubles you?”

“You are a king, Aragorn. I am not… worthy of such a title.”

His hand came to rest on your cheek and you breathed him in. Musk and mulch filled your lungs and you leaned into his touch. “Has anyone been speaking ill of you?”

“No, none. But I have seen the way Lord Elrond looks at me. I fear he knows of the both of us, and does not approve.”

Aragorn chuckled and pulled back, staring into your eyes. “Meleth nin, I sought his counsel before I left. He has no objections or reservations, save for how you would fare so far away from home if I were to claim the throne.”

You shook your head. “Aragorn, you should have royalty at your side.”

“It matters not to me,” he whispered. “You need not a title to be noble of heart or valorous of soul. I would have you in my life even if the whole of Arda objected to it.” He leaned in and captured your lips in a tender kiss. His lips were soft and yielding, so different to the fingers that swept across your cheek. You nudged your nose against his and he grinned. He pressed another kiss to your temple and drew back. “There is none that can match you, I promise.”

You watch his smile fade and his eyes harden. You knew that expression; there was ill news he had to break to you, but you could guess at what it was. “You will be leaving again.”

“Yes, but not for a while. Elrond is calling a council, summoning the leaders of Middle-Earth. I fear what must be undertaken.”

“I have heard rumours of the growing darkness.” You traced the line of his jaw. “You will go with them.”

He nodded. “When the grim deed is finished, I will go to Minas Tirith. I know not how long this quest might take, I would not ask you to wait—”

“I will wait.” You rested your palm on his chest and his lips brushed your brow.

“I will send for you when all is done.”

A smile crept onto your face. “And I will ride to Minas Tirith. Even if all I have is a single steed and the clothes on my back.”

He chuckled at you and intertwined his fingers with yours. “Come. There is still time yet, and there are still clearings and paths I have not shown you.” He tugged on your hand, and you let him lead you further into the trees. He would go soon, yes, but you had him now.

Mirage ✷ Aragorn

Pairing: Aragorn x Rohirrim!Fem!Reader

Words: 1.8k

Description: Amidst the Battle of the Hornburg, Aragorn sees a mirage cast up by the Valar⏤for it is impossible for a lady to fight as valiantly as the one in front of him.

( SILÉAS says ... ! ) This is just a little something, take it as practicing writing LOTR fanfictions. I'm not really satisfied with it but, oh well, whatever. Basically, this is just Aragorn being a simp and thinking he's crazy.

THE SURROUNDING CHAOS made the worst vices of Creation flourish on the scarred plains, obliterating any notion of race in their filth. Men and orcs alike had left behind quiet hatred for bloodshed and horror. Suddenly, the hitherto unspoken presence of Sauron materialised in Saruman's army before the helpless but resolute gaze of the nation of Rohan.

War, a destructive invention that endured despite the thousands of souls it took across the Ages. If War—in all its terribleness—were to have a name, the Battle of Hornburg would be the embodiment of it. Before the eyes of the Innocents, Helm's Deep had become the cursed resurgence of Angband. Legend and reality had merged, and, within them, the violence endured.

The rain poured down in torrents, blinding the warriors who, as best they could, struck their swords in general confusion in the hope of killing enemies.

Faced with Orcs howling for death, the men cried out for their homeland, for the courage that dwindled as their companions fell one by one.

Saruman's army had invaded the fortress not long ago. A strange concoction had resounded and sent the impenetrable defences of the stone city tumbling. A flood of monstrosities, weapons in hand, had colonised Aragorn's vision and had not left since then. Not even the arrows of the Elves seemed to stop the haemorrhage of suffering and torture.

They had been fighting for hours and the fatigue was beginning to show in the blows and the morale of the troops. The Ranger himself could do nothing against the despair that was gradually eating away at his heart and, with it, his hopes of Dawn.

Would he one day be made king, or would he die here without knowing if Frodo had succeeded? Was the race of Men doomed?

His cloak, saturated by the torrential rain, weighed him down, but not as much as the weight on his shoulders which, with each cry of pain from the men around him, became less and less bearable.

Amid this desolate spectacle, a glimmer of light caught his eye. Not far away, facing three enraged orcs, a figure was fighting fervently. Each blow was returned with tenfold strength. Hatred and determination moved this singular being and caused the enemy's blood to flow.

A play of shadows hid their face, but the length of their hair, flattened by the rain, gave one clue as to the identity of this valiant warrior.

It was a woman.

Disturbed by this sight, Aragorn narrowly avoided his opponent's club. Propelled to the ground, he miraculously managed to avoid being crushed by the fighters around him, far too blinded by adrenalin to pay attention to their surroundings. The Orc, encouraged by his vulnerable position, raised its weapon again and brought it down on him. It crashed against Aragorn’s shin, making him grunt in pain.

Even when his sword finally pierced his opponent's skull—in a last-ditch effort to defence himself—Aragorn's gaze wandered back to the strange sight, unable to believe it—for all the women were safe in the fortress. It was impossible for any of them to be on the battlefield. Eowyn herself, despite her warrior's heart, had stayed behind.

Time, as if manipulated by Vairë, stopped. The bewildered Ranger stood motionless in the middle of the vengeful crowd. His eyes, like a dragon's when faced with gold, couldn't move off the woman glinting in the moonlight.

The still-lit torches cast an orange halo over the side of her face. The lines of her body, shifting as she fought, faded at times into the darkness. It was as if she was one with the night but illuminated those who deigned to lay eyes on her—like Varda herself. You could have mistaken her for a star, for she looked so divine amidst this epic painting.

An Orc's head rolled at his feet and roused him from his torpor.

Only a few steps away from him, the rest of the body lay in a puddle of foul-smelling black blood. Above the dead man, Her. Triumphant. Her sword painted with murder. The shadows that had previously hidden her features had disappeared, revealing a face of great beauty, albeit bloodied.

She had just saved his life.

Aragorn was speechless. He did not really know what to think. Perhaps the battle and fatigue were starting to play tricks on him and making him lose his senses.

“Do not give up, my lord,” she said in a gentle voice. “All is not lost.”

Her soft tone pierced his doubts and softened his fears.

Assuredly, the lady was a mirage, cast up by his troubled and tired mind.

She was a vision of Tulkas, sent to guide the troops. She had this aura. They were dazzling, here and there, all those reflections that, on her armour, left behind a trace of the moon. This creature had been sculpted by the hands of the Valar who, at this tragic moment, were sending the army a good omen.

She embodied hope. The sign to persevere. Her very presence heralded Dawn.

This mirage—for he believed her to be such—made him redouble his efforts and his strength. Minutes and hours passed, and Orcs, Trolls and other of Sauron's filth fell in his path. Throughout the night, the enchanted vision continued to exist in the corner of his eye and to fight, leaving behind the disfigured bodies of their enemies. They fought in tandem, always close to each other but never speaking again.

When, at last, Rohan's horn sounded and Gandalf appeared on the hill, just as the first rays of the sun began to warm hearts and lands, the Ranger gave himself the right to breathe fully, to allow himself this moment of respite—the brief second of calm before the storm. Charging up behind King Théoden, Aragorn took one last look around.

She had disappeared.

Disappointed but now full of hope, he pounded his fist against his heart.

The Valar had delivered their message; their harbinger, now gone.

ROHAN WAS CELEBRATING. Warmth and light once again filled the halls of the city. There was no better proof of victory than the return of laughter and hearts filled with the joy of simply living.

Legolas and Gimli had been caught up in the euphoria and were drinking glass after glass—as always, driven by their competitive spirits—in hope of seeing the other give up.

At the other end of the room, near a table where food of all kinds was piling up and didn't seem to be diminishing despite the hungry citizens, Éowyn was conversing with someone. He could only see the back of them, but Aragorn was seized by a strange feeling of déjà-vu that made his heart clench. Yet, the figure in the trousers did not look familiar.

It was only when she turned to grab a bunch of grapes that the Ranger understood the feeling.

The Mirage.

It couldn't be. And yet there she was, tangible, real. His mind, clear again, no longer tormented by the spectre of death, had conjured up this vision once more.

As on the battlefield, she was ethereal. While the other women wore the traditional robes of Rohan, she could have been mistaken for a man with her trousers. And though she differed from the others in her provocation, she was nonetheless the most enchanting of them all.

She exuded a certain poise. Her features were delicate, showing a certain youthfulness, but what troubled him most were her eyes. They gazed out at the world in such an intense and magnetic way that it was impossible to look away.

“This is Y/N, the stable master’s daughter,” Éomer's voice startled him. As during the battle, the mere sight of this woman had plunged him into a trance. “She runs the stables with him, although her heart is shaped after a sword and not a horseshoe.”

“I didn't know it was the custom of Rohirrim women to fight.”

“It isn't. Y/N is stubborn. Too much so.”

“You speak of her with familiarity,” remarked the Ranger.

“We all know her here. She looks after our horses,” he shrugged.

It made sense. The sacred bond between the riders of Rohan and their mounts naturally elevated all those who cared for them to an influential and crucial role.

“Y/N has wanted to join the army ever since she was a little girl. She taught herself how to use a sword.”

Aragorn turned his face towards her, but Éowyn was now alone and looking at him strangely. He immediately looked away.

"I don't see why I shan’t," intervened a voice that startled both men. Neither of them had heard her coming. “I love the nation just as much as any other soldier present that night. I belonged on the battlefield.”

“Yes, Y/N. If you say so.”

The king's nephew's condescending tone made her scowl. She let out an angry groan, obviously having little respect for decorum, and marched towards the hall doors. This seemed to be a regular occurrence, judging by Éomer's blasé look and the lack of reaction from the other citizens close enough to hear the conversation.

Aragorn watched her walk with difficulty, avoiding putting any weight on her right ankle as she zigzagged between the revellers. Suddenly she was human, as fragile as all the other Men, as fragile as he. She was no longer this divine creature—although she had the features of one—but a wounded and, above all, frustrated soldier.

He caught up with her without difficulty, reaching into his pocket.

“This balm should help your ankle, my lady.”

Her eyebrows were furrowed. A drop of sweat beaded on her forehead from the pain, but she made no move to take the remedy.

Y/N did not reply until they had left the room and were isolated from the collective joy. The woman dropped onto one of the many cushions in the corridor. In silence, her gaze wandered over the untouched plains of Rohan.

“Would you have given this concoction to a man?” she said at last. Her voice was no longer soft but hoarse, damaged by combat, fatigue, and anger. Tired of having to justify herself. Anger at having her sex interpreted as a sign of weakness.

He hesitated for a moment: “No, but a mighty warrior like you cannot decently fight with a broken ankle.”

A shy smile softened her face. Aragorn's heart clenched at the sight and missed a beat when a hand—hardened by combat and blacksmithing—closed around his own.

She took the container.

“Thank you, son of Arathorn. I shall use it with gratitude.”

He seized her hand and kissed it tenderly, avidly tasting her skin. Always, a man driven by destiny, Aragorn for once gave in to happiness—however volatile it might be. The warmth spreading in his chest was worth all the hardships.

“We shall meet again on a battlefield, envoy of Tulkas.”

The promise to see each other again bloomed as the mirage became a reality.

Mannnn

👁️👄👁️

I-

My brain flew away

What is he looking like indian royalty for?!?

You! You already have my heart and now you're giving me brainrot?

How utterly unfair of you aragorn!

Aragorn

Imagine the reactions of the fellowship when Y/N took the blade for Frodo on Weathertop (Amon Sûl)

Elrond: My dear child you would have died. You do not possess the gift of immortality, must you be as reckless as you are? You are not of this world!

Y/N: *grinning* Nah she'll be right. I'm fine aren't I?

Legolas: *walks in* You look terrible. As you would after a near death experience.

Y/N: You call it a near death experience. I call it a vibe check from God.

Aragorn: *Bursts into laughter*

Gandalf: *Stares pointedly* Yes.. not of this world.

Legolas: *is visibly confused* Are we talking about her recklessness or her beauty?

Y/N: >_> Ummm anyways, when are we leaving?

Incorrect quotes #1

Boromir: Gondor has no king. Gondor needs no king.

Y/N: *whispers* Mad cause bad.

Legolas and Aragorn: *suppresses grins*

Incorrect quotes #2

Boromir: One does not simply walk into Mordor. It's black gates are guarded by more than just orcs. There is evil there that does not sleep.

Legolas, Gimli and Aragorn: Neither does Y/N, what's your point.

Y/N: *Sarcastically* Oh no you got me!!

Imagine Y/N sitting at the council of Rivendell while everyone is arguing

Y/N: *quietly singing the McDonald's theme song*

Gandalf: I don't suppose you want to break this up for us?

Y/N *whispers* Nah, you and I both know that's Frodo's thing. Don't ruin his big moment.

Gandalf: Very well

20 seconds later

Frodo: I will take it!!

Gandalf: I will help you bear this burden, Frodo Baggins. As long as it is yours to bear.

Aragorn: If by my life or death I can protect you.. I will. You have my sword. *turns to Y/N*

Y/N: *whispers* Do I have to? Can't I stay here with the pretty elv-

Aragorn: *shoulders Y/N* Yes.

Y/N: *sighs* And I will follow, but only if I get to call Legolas and Gimli, Elsa and Anna.

Legolas: Again the young maiden speaks words that I do not understand. *Turns to Frodo* You have my bow.

Gimli: And my axe.

Boromir: You carry the fate of us all little one-

Y/N: *interrupts* Alright yadda yadda can we go? I didn't eat breakfast.

Imagine being in the mines of Moria with the fellowship.

Pippin: Are we lost?

Merry: No 

Pippin: I think we are 

Merry: *shushes him* 

Y/N: Gandalf's thinking. 

Frodo: *notices Gollum* Y/N, Gandalf! There's something down there. 

Y/N: *turns to Gandalf* You wanna take this one?

Gandalf: *mutters* Not unless you wish to tell me the way.

Y/N: *grins* When in doubt Gandalf, when in doubt.

Turns to Frodo

Y/N: My dear, that would be Gollum. 

Frodo: Gollum?

Y/N: Yes, I think he’s been following us for three days now. Probably set free from the dungeons of Barad-dûr. He wants what you carry upon your neck. 

Frodo: The Ring?

Y/N: Yes, he will spend the rest of his life following where the ring goes, for he loves and hates the ring. Just as he loves and hates himself.

Gandalf: Sméagol’s story is quite a sad one.

Frodo:  Sméagol?

Y/N: Yes, that was what he was called. Before the Ring found him, and drove him mad.

Frodo: Pity Bilbo didn't kill him when he had the chance.

Y/N: Pity? No my dear boy.

Gandalf: It was pity that stilled Bilbo’s hand.

Y/N: *grits her teeth* Many that live deserve death

Legolas and Gimli : *both look at Y/N and frown*

Gandalf: And some that that die, deserve life. Can you give it to them Frodo?

Y/N: Do not be too eager to deal out death and judgement dear one. Even the very wise cannot see all ends.

Gandalf: *narrows his eyes at Y/N before turning back to Frodo* My heart tells me there is still some part for Gollum to play whether for ill or for good.

Y/N: The pity of Bilbo may rule the fate of many.

Frodo: I wish the ring never came to me. I wish none of this had happened.

Gandalf: So do all who live to see such times. But that is not up to them to decide.

Y/N: All we can do, is to decide what to do with the time that was given to us.

Gandalf: There are other forces at work in this world and out of it Frodo, *glances at Y/N* besides the will of evil.

Y/N: Bilbo was meant to find the ring, and therefore you were meant to carry it. *grins down at Frodo* Now isn't that an encouraging thought?

Gandalf: Ah its that way!

Merry: He’s remembered!

Gandalf and Y/N: No.

Gandalf: But the air doesn’t smell so foul down here.

Y/N: *grins at Gandalf* When in doubt my friends, follow your nose.

Legolas: I thought it was follow your heart.

Aragorn: As did I

Y/N: Now now my dear friends, your heart goes third and your nose goes second!

Legolas: *puzzled* Then what goes first?

Both grin and look at each other

Aragorn: Her stomach.

Y/N: My stomach.

Sam: Quite wise of you miss Y/N.

Y/N: Thank you Sam.

All walk through the tunnel.

Legolas: *to Aragorn* Do you know what Y/N likes to eat?

Aragorn: Anything that she can get her hands on. Why so curious Legolas.

Legolas: *hurriedly* Just want to know what fuels such a dwarf sized human.

Y/N: I heard that.

Imagine Y/N being there when Gandalf gets captured by the Balrog in the mines of Moria and Legolas comforts you.

Y/N: Gandalf they're running.

The goblins disperse

Boromir: What is this new evil.

Y/N: I fear that it is something worse is upon us.

Footsteps approach

Y/N and Gandalf: A Balrog.

Gandalf: A demon of the ancient world.

Y/N: And not a hot one either *mutters*

The fellowship: What?

Y/N: This foe is beyond any of you.

Gandalf: Run! Quickly!

The fellowship comes to a cliff and all stop before it.

Aragorn: Gandalf... Can you continue.

Gandalf: *looks at you and Aragorn* You must lead them on. The bridge is near.

Y/N: But I-

Gandalf: Do as I say! Swords are of no more use here.

They all climb down the stairs hurriedly but find a gap.

Legolas: Y/N! *gestures for you to jump*

Y/N: Gandalf first, then the little ones. Hurry!

One by one they get across while Gimli pauses.

Gimli: Nobody tosses a dwarf!

Y/N: I don't think you want to jump.

Gimli: *jumps and is caught by his beard* NOT THE BEARD.

Y/N: *smirks* Told you so.

Legolas pulls him up.

Y/N: Hurry Frodo! *throws Frodo to Legolas*

Y/N and Aragorn slide down the stairs as it collapses.

Gandalf: Over the bridge! Fly!

Y/N: Gandalf quickly! The bridge!

They reach the bridge and Gandalf stops.

Gandalf: You cannot pass!

Frodo: Gandalf!

Y/N: No! *runs back to Gandalf*

Gandalf: Pethryn STAY.

Y/N reluctantly halts.

Gandalf: I am a servant of the Secret Fire. Wielder of the flame of Anor. The dark fire will not avail you flame of Udûn!

The Balrog strikes Gandalf.

Gandalf: Go back to the shadows.

Balrog brings forth it's whip.

Gandalf: YOU SHALL NOT PASS!

Y/N: Gandalf do not linger! You must come!

Gandalf Stares into the abyss as the creature falls.

Y/N: NO! *she rushes forwards grasped by Aragorn and Legolas* Let me go. UNHAND ME. *struggles* GANDALF.

Boromir: No!

Frodo: GANDALF *Boromir holds him back*

Gandalf: Fly you fools!

Gandalf falls.

Frodo: No!

Boromir: Aragorn! We must move.

Aragorn and Legolas drag Y/N and they all exit the mines.

Y/N: I could have saved him. I could have pulled him up! Why did you stop me? Why didn't you let me-

Legolas pulls Y/N to his chest.

Legolas: We could not have you fall into fire and shadow too. Gandalf sacrificed for us so we must honour him by living.

Y/N: *shakes in anger* I could have helped him.

Aragorn: Then you know it was the path he had to take.

Y/N: *grits their teeth* But I do not have to like it.

Aragorn: Get them up.

Boromir: Give them a moment for pity's sake.

Y/N: *quietly* There is no time for pity.

Aragorn: By nightfall, these hills will be swarming with Orcs. We must reach the woods of Lothlórien.

Y/N: Quickly, get them up Boromir. Legolas help me.

Legolas: I'm sorry, I only wanted to make sure you were safe.

Y/N: It was not your fault. I bare you no ill will. Thank you Mellon nîn. For keeping me safe.

-------------------------------------------

Pethryn still means narrator!! hope u guys enjoy this, I haven't posted a LOTR one in a bit so ENJOYYY <3

TO ISENGARD

Imagine hearing Legolas say the iconic line.

Aragorn: "Rohan, Home of the Horse-Lords.

There's something strange at work here. Some evil gives speed to these creatures. Sets it's will against us."

Y/N: "Legolas, what do your elf eyes see?"

Legolas: "The Uruks turn north east."

Y/N: *smirks*

Legolas: "They're taking the hobbits to Isengard!"

Aragorn: "Saurman"

Y/N: *tries to not fall over in laughter*

Gimli: "You alright Y/N?"

Legolas: "Have I said something?"

Y/N: "No! It's nothing" *in-between chuckles*

Aragorn: "We must make haste."

Y/N: "Right right, coming."

Y/N quietly to herself: "To Isengard to Isengard! Theyre taking the hobbits to Isengard!"

-----

REQUESTS ARE OPEN BTW! PLEASE SEND ME A REQUEST OR ASK A QUESTION!

GLASS: In all my 21 years of life. I have never regretted something as much as I am now doing Uni.

Legolas: What is it that you regret?

Y/N: Wait who is that?

Aragorn: That's GLASS. She's the writ-

GLASS: Um. Noone-

She slaps her hand over Aragorn's mouth.

Draco: Hey who's the short goblin over there?.

Harry: Don't be rude Malfoy.

Y/N: Oh sh*t.

Legolas: Why are they holding sticks.

Cedric: An Elf?

James Potter: Mate, you look like you haven't slept in days..

Sirius Black: He's right..

Harry: Dad?..

GLASS: I need a drink..

-----------------

SORRY GUYS IVE BEEN DOING FINAL EXAMS AND I THINK I NEVER TOLD U GUYS ABOUT MY AGE SO- UM AGE REVEAL? I'LL KINDA BE BACK IM SORRY.

Imagine you enter the woods of Lothlorien with the Fellowship.

Gimli: Stay close, young hobbits! They say a great sorceress lives in these woods. An Elf-Witch.

Y/N: *Smirks* Of terrible power?

Gimli: Tis no joke m'lady. All who look upon her fall under her spell.

Galadriel: *Telepathically* Frodo..

Gimli: And are never seen again.

Y/N: Do not fear little ones. We will keep you from harm.

Samwise: We should be saying that to you Y/N.

Galadriel: You're coming to us, is as the footsteps of doom.

Galadriel: *Telepathically* You bring great evil here. Ring bearer.

Sam: Mr Frodo?

Gimli: Well, here's one dwarf she won't ensnare so easily. I have the eyes of a hawk and the ears of a fox.

The elves of the Lothlórien woods appears with bows.

Y/N: *Unsurprised* Is that right?

Haldir: The dwarf breathes so loud, we could have shot him in the dark.

Y/N: *Stifles a chuckle*

They walk to Lórien

Haldir: *In elvish* Well met, Legolas son of Thranduil.

Legolas: Our Fellowship stands in your debt. Haldir of Lórien.

Y/N: Yep, I love it when he speaks elvish. *She smiles down at the hobbits.*

Haldir: Ah, Aragorn of the Dúnedain. You are known to us.

Aragorn: Haldir..

Haldir: Pethryn.

Y/N: *Nods silently.*

Gimli: So much for the legendary courtesy of the Elves. Speak words we can all understand.

Y/N: *Grins* They are greeting eachother. Be patient my friend.

Haldir: *In the common tongue* We have not had dealings with the dwarves since the Dark Days.

Gimli: And you know what this Dwarf says to that? Ishkhaqwi ai duru- (I spit upon your gra-)

Y/N: *Stops Gimli with her hand and gentle taps his shoulder.* Now now Gimli.

Aragorn: That was not so courteous.

Haldir: *Turns to look at Frodo.* You bring great evil with you. You can go no further.

Aragorn: *In elvish* We need your protection, the road is fell. Please we need your support.

Legolas: Y/N, you understand Sindarin?

Y/N: What, me solving the riddle wasn't enough for you? *She grins*

Aragorn: *In Elvish* I wish we may come with you. The road is very dangerous Haldir.

Boromir: Gandalf's death was not in vain. Nor would he have you give up hope. You carry a heavy burden Frodo. Don't carry the weight of the dead.

Haldir: You will follow me.

They travel to Caras Galadhon.

Haldir: Caras Galadhon.

Y/N: The heart of Elvendom on earth.

Haldir: Realm of the Lord Celeborn and of Galadriel, Lady of Light.

Y/N: *Smirks to Aragorn.* I get to see the pretty elves again.

Aragorn: *Rolls his eyes*

Legolas: *Mutters* Am I not a pretty elf?

Y/N: *Laughs* You are the prettiest of all elves Miluir ("Lovely one" in Sindarin)

Legolas: *Gapes in surprise.*

Y/N: *Chuckles and walks away.*

Legolas: Wait! What did you just call me? Say it again!