The Hobbit And The Elf - A Glee and Lord of The Rings Crossover
Media - fic
Author: Ana - anwamane13
Title: The Hobbit And The Elf
Genre: AU, Crossover, a little bit of Crack, maybe?
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 16.448
Warnings: extreme sappiness and fluff, Lord of the Rings references
Summary: Blaine, the Hobbitt, meets Kurt, the Elf.
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. No copyright infringement is intended. All characters are the property of J.R.Tolkien, RIB and FOX. No money is being made with the story. In other words…If Kurt and Blaine were mine, they would be kissing all the time.
Author Notes:
1- This is my not my first fic, but it is my first GLEE fic. If you don’t like it, don’t kill me, I’m nice.
2- This is a birthday gift to a very special person. ‘thealmostsmartone’, you are awesome. I just want you to never forget that you mean the world to me and that I will always be there for you, no matter what.
3- This idea started a few months ago, when I made a photomanip of Kurt as an Elf and Blaine as a Hobbit. The wonderful ‘thealmostsmartone’ asked me to write a fic with that plot, but, as always, I was too busy to do it. Last week, with her birthday coming - which is today, by the way - I decided to write it. I hope she likes it, I did my best.
4- This work is not betaed. I wrote this is three days and I didn’t have time to find a beta to help me. English is not mu first language, so I expect that you will find some mistakes - maybe a lot - here and there. I’m sorry, guys. If I ever find someone to beta this for me, I promise to edit the whole thing. If you find something wrong, please let me know so I can fix it.
5- There is a glossary at the end of Part Two, for those ones who don’t know anything about Lord of the Rings. You don’t need to know everything about LOTR to read this story, but it will be easier if you are at least familiar with some concepts.
6- Blaine is half-Hobbit and Kurt is Half-Elf. First, because the height difference between them would be too big if they were pure bloods, so… no, just not hot at all for them to be together, Blaine being 3.9 and Kurt being 5.9 feet. No. just no. Second, Elves live forever. I don’t want Kurt suffering alone forever after Blaine’s death.
7- I am truly sorry about the language. This is Tolkien, The Lord of the Rings. Even if the characters are from Glee, I could not have Finn saying “hey, Dude!” or Kurt making a “bitch, please” face. So expressions like “come on”, “hey”, “let’s go” will be very hard to find. I may be have left one or two slip, but only because I didn’t have time to read this a hundred times.
8- Kurt is an Elf. Therefore, he speaks Elvish. Just a little. But don't worry, there is a translation right after the Elvish sentences.
THE HOBBIT AND THE ELF - - A Glee and Lord of The Rings Crossover.
He was tired and his feet hurt, but as he approached Bree’s wooden gates, he felt a little hope coming back. ‘Food’, he thought, and maybe a place to rest. The journey had been a long one, from across the river and through all the land of Staddle, the village on the southeastern slopes of the Bree hills.
He had entertained the idea of finding shelter at Staddle, but as he passed the houses and the poorly arranged streets, pebbles hurting his bare feet, he could feel the stares and he knew he would find no place to stay there. People stared too much, and he was tired of stares.
All his life, it had been like this. Since he was found at his godfather’s door, a crying dirty bundle, they all knew he was different. And different had always been frowned upon in the village. He was too big to be a Halfling, even as a newborn, and yet his slightly pointed ears, barely covered by his curly black hair and hairy feet left no doubt about his ancestry.
Sometimes he got lost in his thoughts, thinking why he had been left at all. Was he so different that not even his mother had wanted him? But then again, he was glad for having been left at his godfather’s doorstep. Togo Knotwise, whom he called ‘uncle’, had a good, kind heart, and had always been a good godfather, taking him under his roof and his protection when no one would have done it. It was better than being left at a man’s village, because men were rougher and far less kind. Who knew what men could have done with him as a child. Slavery wasn’t unheard of, even now, at the days of the King.
--------
“Don’t go, Blaine,” Togo had said, his old face the picture of sadness. “The world is too big, too dangerous…Hobbits are not supposed to like adventure.”
“I’m not a Hobbit,” Blaine answered sadly. ”Not a real one, anyway…You know I have to go, uncle,” Blaine went on. “I need to find a place that I can call home. You know I don’t belong here, if I ever belonged anywhere in this world.”
“Don’t talk like that, son,” Togo said, shaking his head. “I don’t like to see you like this. Especially when I don’t know when, or if I will ever see you again.”
“Uncle, you know how much I love you, but I just… I’m tired. I’m too tall to be a Hobbit and too short to be a Man. How cruelly ironic is that? And nobody but you understands how lonely it is. I just don’t want to feel like an outsider anymore.”
“You will always have a place to stay here, Blaine. I hope you know that.”
“I do, and I’m very grateful. But please, keep your money, uncle Togo,” Blaine said, pushing back to his godfather’s hands the bag of coins he was offering, refusing to take more money from such a caring person. “I need to learn how to take care of myself. You’ve been always
there, protecting me, but now… I need to do this. On my own.”
“I understand,” Togo said.
”And I’ve already abused your generosity too much.”
“It was never a question of generosity. I always loved you, Blaine. You were always a sweet boy, despite all your height and clumsiness,” the old man murmured, trying to joke, standing on his tiptoes to hug his godson. “But you’re right. You really don’t belong here, my lad, as much as it pains me to say so. May the Valar protect you. I hope you find what you’re looking for.”
------
It was ironic that now his feet were carrying him to a men’s village, and it had been his own choice. He would be find a way of embarrassing himself, he had no doubt about that, because on top of everything, he was clumsy and noisy, jumping on furniture whenever he sang, banging doors loudly, like the Hobbit he was. Only, with his size, at least for a Hobbit, he always ended up breaking something and there was nothing he could do to stop it. He lost count of how many things he’d broken in Togo’s house, or how many times his head hit the ceiling because he jumped too much. Hobbits lived in holes in the ground, not designed for someone “tall” like him. Nothing, in the village where he’d spent the first twenty years of his life, had been designed for someone like him.
Togo’s neighbors surely didn’t like him, always singing and making noise everywhere. He’d always had the impression that the people in the Hobbit village only tolerated him, treating him well only because Togo was respected and loved by everyone. But at least in Bree, where Hobbits and Men seemed to live and get along just fine, he supposed he had a chance. He could pass for a short man, if he no one paid too much attention, and if he managed to wear the uncomfortable shoes men always wore. He could find work and a place to stay; Blaine was not afraid of working hard. He only needed a chance to prove himself.
------
The Prancing Pony was almost empty that night, and when Blaine pushed at the heavy doors slowly, he felt everybody staring at him. But it was a different stare, the kind you give to a newcomer, with only a hint of curiosity.
Blaine took a step forward, only to trip over the doorstep and ended in an ungraceful heap on the floor. He took a deep breath, got up, straightened himself as best as he could and walked straight to the counter, where a fat, long-haired man was cleaning some glasses with a dirty rag.
“Good evening sir,” he said, his voice sounding strange to his own ears, after so many days walking alone with no one to talk to. “Do you have a room I could stay in? And perhaps some food? I’ve been travelling for a long time.”
The man eyed him up and down, both eyebrows arched. His gaze stopped at his pointed ears and his plush eyebrows for a while, and when he noticed his slightly hairy and bare feet, the man frowned a little. But no harsh words left his mouth. “That we have, but can you pay for it, Mr.…?”
Blaine hurriedly put three little golden coins on the counter. “Here. It’s all I have.”
The man picked one coin and bit it, frowning a little. “It’s not enough for food and a room.”
“Please, sir…” he said, eyes downcast. “I’ve been travelling for a week. It’s been a long time since I had a decent meal and slept in anything resembling a bed.”
“I understand,” the man said, grimacing. “But I’m sorry, lad, you still have to pay for it. All these coins can get you is some bread and soup.”
“Don’t you need any help here?” Blaine said hopefully. “I could do the dishes, serve the tables. I - I can sing to the customers!”
“If I let you do the dishes I would have nothing left after a while,” the man said, referring to Blaine’s clumsiness. “Listen, young man” the fat man said, “I can see you’re hungry, and you are welcome to stay and eat as long as you can pay for it. But I don’t need help here, and even if I did, I wouldn’t be able to pay you. And I definitely don’t need anyone to sing. Men come here to drink and to forget their troubles, not to listen to music. These are difficult times, I’m sure you know that… and we barely have enough for ourselves in this village.”
“Oh,” he said, shoulders hunching. “That means I can’t stay, then.”
“I am truly sorry, “the big man said, sounding sincere.
“Is it because…?” he started to ask, but lost his courage.
“Because you’re a half-blood?” The man gave a short laugh. “I know this is frowned upon in many places, but not here. We really don’t care about these things, not in this village, with so many Hobbits around. Not that I’ve ever seen such a combination, but who am I to judge? I like Hobbits, they never gave my business any trouble and are always very polite when they come here. I don’t care what you are, lad, your money is as good to me as anyone’s. But I can see that, unfortunately, money is something you don’t have.”
“I apologize for taking your time, sir,” Blaine said, defeated, turning to leave.
“Wait.” The man sighed and put a hand on his arm, then let go. “It’s not that I don’t care. Here, have some bread, on my account. Look, the town was almost devastated by orcs during the war. Then came the men of Harad, destroying everything they touched. Our King is still struggling to solve all the problems, and he can’t solve them all at once. The village is poor as it is, I don’t believe you will be able to find any kind of job around here, if that’s your intention.”
“Serve him a full meal, Bilius,” said a melodious voice from the end of the room. “I’ll pay for it.”
Blaine turned to look, but all he could see was a figure clad in a dark green cloak and hood, sitting at the farthest table from where he was and partially hidden by the shadows.
“Are you sure, sir?” The fat long-haired man, Bilius, asked uncertain. “They tend to eat a lot. And this one is big for a Hobbit, which means he certainly eats like two, maybe three of the little ones combined.”
“I said serve him a full meal. We can discuss his appetite later.” The voice was almost musical, the words softly spoken, but with clear authority behind them.
“I… thank you sir, but I don’t need charity,” Blaine said, giving a few steps in the direction of the stranger. “I can accept your offer, but only if you let me pay for it in some kind.”
“You said you can sing,” the melodious voice said, sounding amused, yet strangely melancholic.
“I can,” Blaine answered, already regretting it. “I mean, my godfather always said I’m good at singing, but…”
“Do you have a name?” the stranger asked.
“B- Blaine Anderson, sir.”
“So…” the man uncrossed his legs elegantly and leaned forward, but not enough to allow his face to be seen. “Sing me something, Blaine Anderson, and consider your debt paid.”
Blaine gulped. How on Arda was he supposed to sing to someone with such a beautiful voice? This person could certainly sing better than he ever would. But then he heard the clattering of dishes coming from behind the counter, and he could already smell whatever they had cooking in there. His stomach rumbled loudly.
“I - I’m sorry,” he said sheepishly. His stomach grumbled loudly again and Blaine blushed furiously.
“Don’t be, it’s not something you can control,” the stranger chuckled. “You were offering to sing to the customers minutes ago in exchange for food. I am a customer. And…It’s been awhile since I heard any other voices singing but mine,” he asked, and Blaine found himself unable to do anything but obey.
Blaine took another deep breath. “Courage,” he thought, closing his eyes and letting the music flow through him, his strong voice echoing through the walls.
Sing all ye joyful, now sing all together!
The wind's in the tree-top, the wind's in the heather,
The stars are in blossom, the moon is in flower,
And bright are the windows of Night in her tower.
Dance all ye joyful, now dance all together!
Soft is the grass, and let foot be like feather!
The river is silver, the shadows are fleeting;
Merry is May-time, and merry our meeting.
Sing we now softly, and dreams let us weave him!
Wind him in slumber and there let us leave him!
The wanderer sleepeth. Now soft be his pillow!
Lullaby! Lullaby! Alder and Willow!
Sigh no more Pine, till the wind of the morn!
Fall Moon! Dark be the land!
Hush! Hush! Oak, Ash, and Thorn!
Hushed be all water, till dawn is at hand!
When Blaine opened his eyes, he saw that he was standing on a table, sweaty and red from singing and jumping all around. Once again, he had lost himself in the music and had simply let go, not even noticing when he had started to climb on the furniture. He cursed inwardly, thanking the Valar that he hadn’t broken anything this time.
“That was beautiful, Mr. Anderson,” the stranger said, his voice in an amused tone. “You have a beautiful voice; a very strong one. Now sit by the fire and appreciate your meal. Bilius is not much of a cook, but at least the food is hot.”
“Could I at least see the face of my benefector, sir, if it is not much to ask for?” Blaine said boldly, jumping to the floor. He was dying to have a face to associate with that beautiful voice.
“Of course,” the stranger said, getting up and stepping into the light. “It’s the least I can do, after you shared your talent with me.” Looking around, Blaine could see that the place was almost empty now, save for the two of them and Bilius, who was busy serving Blaine’s plate.
The first thing Blaine noticed was that the person was two or three inches taller than him, lithe, with fluid and gracious movements, like a dancer. Then, a very pale hand left the hidden folds of the cloak. It was thin, with long fingers, certainly made to play instruments, Blaine was almost sure of that. When the hood was lifted, Blaine let out a gasp.
In front of him was the most beautiful creature he had ever seen in his whole life. Porcelain skin, perfect nose, rosy and thin lips, and blue eyes that changed to green and gray every time the man blinked. But as soon as Blaine thought that, he realized he was wrong. That was no man. There was no mistaking the light brown, long hair, held in a single braid, and the pointy ears.
“An elf…!” Blaine said, mesmerized by the elf’s beauty. He had never seen one.
The elf smiled, albeit a little sadly. “Not quite,” he said softly, melancholic glasz eyes scanning the room sharply. “Not quite,” he said again, almost to himself. “I am Kurt,” he said, this time addressing Blaine, bowing his head a little, in a gracious movement. “Kurt Hummel.”
Blaine kept his mouth open like an idiot, unable to stop staring. He was making a fool of himself, he knew, but his ability to speak had left him the moment he had laid eyes on Kurt’s perfect face.
Blaine’s stare and dumb expression apparently made Kurt uncomfortable, because the elf blinked at him a few times, blushed and looked around. “Bilius? Where is the food?” he said a little too loudly to the fat man, who was already approaching them with a steaming plate.
Blaine would have said he was sorry for embarrassing Kurt, if he’d been capable of speaking. Only, he had never seen someone so beautiful in his whole life, and not even the smell coming from the plate - which in Blaine’s opinion, smelled like Heaven, if Heaven had a smell, so hungry he was - could distract him from the elf’s face.
“You can go, Bilius,” Kurt said, when the man put the plate on the table by the fire. “It’s already too late; go and take some rest. I will open the door for the others when they arrive.”
“Yes, sir. Good night, sir,” Bilius mumbled, then he looked at Blaine. “What about him?”
“Don’t worry, your services will be well paid, as always,” Kurt said softly, but with authority, and Bilius bowed hastily and left.
The silence was so great when the man left, that even the wind blowing softly against the gaps of the windows could be heard.
“Aren’t you going to eat?” Kurt asked, arching graciously one eyebrow, after a few minutes.
“Oh!” Blaine finally snapped out of his daze. “Yes, thank you.”
He practically attacked the food, while Kurt sat in front of him and watched with an amused expression. If before he could barely utter a word, now that he had started eating, Blaine couldn’t control his desire to keep talking, and he soon found himself spilling the story of his life to Kurt, like they’d been friends forever. He didn’t even care that he was speaking with is mouth full, while he told Kurt all the ups and downs of being a “big” Hobbit, like they called him. Well, more downs than ups, from his point of view, but he managed to make it sound funny. He didn’t want anyone’s pity, especially from the beautiful elf.
“They always needed me to hang the decorations, every time there was to be a party in the village,” Blaine said, talking about his life in the Hobbit small town. “I was the only one who could reach the trees. But they also always ended up hiding part the food from me, because more than once I ate almost everything before the party started.”
Yes, it was common knowledge that the Hobbits were legendary gluttons. The laugh Kurt gave startled Blaine and made his heart flutter in a funny way, and his stomach gave a little flip. Maybe he had already eaten too much and too fast, as always, and was having gas pains, he thought. But he couldn’t stop thinking that the sound of Kurt’s laugh was the most beautiful sound in the world, and that there was nothing he wouldn’t do to hear it over and over again.
------
It was past midnight when a loud bang on the door was heard. Kurt got up from his chair and walked to the door, opening with without hesitation.
A man dressed in brown entered the inn. He was older than Kurt and bald, but tall and strong, and he carried himself with pride and authority. It was obvious he was a leader.
“I apologize for being late,” he said, smiling tiredly at Kurt. “But the wind was too strong on the other side of the hill, making it difficult to walk, and the night is too dark.”
“There is no moon tonight,” Kurt observed.
The bald man stepped inside and looked behind him, saying, “Well, come inside, men. We have reached our destination for tonight. We deserve all the rest we can get.”
One by one, four men entered the inn, following the leader, all dressed like him, all smiling slightly at Kurt and clasping his arm in a greeting familiar gesture.
“Puck, Sam, Art…” Kurt greeted them in return. “And how are you, Finn?” he said to the last one, the tallest of them all.
“I am well, brother,” the second in command answered, smiling down at the elf. “But I am tired and hungry. The night is cold and we didn’t want to stop to eat until we reached the border.
“You talk like there was any food left for us to eat, my friend,” Puck complained, already walking to the kitchen. “I hope Bilius left us some ale.”
“There is food in the kitchen. The soup is still hot,” Kurt said. “And yes, the ale is there, and there’s plenty.”
“Well, let’s not wait then, let’s eat, men!” Finn said, patting Kurt on the back and walking with the others to the kitchen.
“How are you, son?” The leader said, finally stepping in front of Kurt and holding the elf in his arms.
“Well as expected, Father.”
Burt Hummel marveled once again at how frail his son Kurt looked, but knowing that being partially Elf, partially Human, with the blood of the Númenóreans and the Eldar combined, Kurt was anything but weak. He was a fierce and skilled warrior, if only a little short for an Elf, but there was no denying that his grace, beauty and battle skills came from the Fair Folk.
Burt had met Lizbethwen Telemnar, Kurt’s mother, when he was very young, when he first started patrolling the borders with his kin, the Dúnedain, and had fallen for her instantly. She was half-elven, raised in Lothlórien, and therefore, she could have chosen either a mortal or an immortal life; like all the half-Elves could. And yet she had chosen him. She had never regretted bonding herself to him, to a mortal life, and that was something Burt would never understand, because she was so perfect and he was just an Edain, even though he had the blood of Númenor in his veins.
Kurt was their only son, and for a while they’d lived happy on the other side of the Aduin. But when the Dark Shadow started over Middle Earth, orcs had killed his sweet wife, leaving Burt unable to deal with his son. As an elfling that was still too young to live away from his mother, Kurt was very fragile. Burt had no idea how to take care of him. He had taken Kurt to Lothlórien to be raised by the elves, and dedicated his life to protect his son and the forests the elves loved so much against the ones that had killed Lizbethwen.
He visited Kurt often, but the orcs had grown more and more numerous as the years went by and since the War of the Ring had started, Burt had seen his son less and less. Being graced with the long life of Númenor, Burt had been able to see his son grow up until adulthood. Now Kurt was sixty, fully grown, a proud warrior, perfectly able to protect himself and anyone else that happened to be near him.
Now Kurt was leaving to Valinor, and Burt would never see him again.
Kurt had heard the cries of the gulls on the shore and now his heart longed for the sea. Burt had no idea how it worked, this longing for the sea that apparently every single elf experienced one day…especially Kurt not being a pure-blood elf. But he knew that when an elf started longing for the sea, he had to go to Valinor. It was simple like that, one of the unquestionable things of the elven ways, and it wasn’t Burt’s place to question that. He was just a Man, after all. And he had promised his son that, when the time came for him to leave, Burt and the son from his second marriage - to a human, this time - Kurt’s half-brother, Finn, would escort Kurt to the Grey Havens. A final goodbye.
------
“Who is he?” Finn asked, after burping loudly and apparently only seeing Blaine when they all had finished eating.
Kurt looked at the farthest corner of the room, where Blaine was sleeping peacefully, still at his bench, head resting on his folded arms over the table. Blaine hadn’t stopped talking for some time, but Kurt could see him getting more and more exhausted. Suddenly, the dark-haired boy had fallen asleep, almost in mid-sentence. Kurt didn’t have the heart to disturb him, and he certainly would not make him leave the inn, not in this cold night and knowing full well that Blaine had nowhere to go.
Blaine appeared to be sleeping so profoundly that not even the loud laughter from the men had awoken him. The sight of him sleeping made Kurt’s heart ache in a way he had not experienced before.
“He’s a friend,” Kurt answered, a soft smile tugging at the corner of his lips.
Burt arched his eyebrows at the soft tone on his son’s voice. “I thought you were traveling alone son.”
“I am,” Kurt answered. “I met him just a few hours ago.”
“And he’s already a friend?”
“We’re alike,” Kurt said. “He’s only looking for a place to belong.” Just like me, Kurt left unsaid.
Burt look at the sleeping lad, taking in his curly black hair, his plush eyebrows, his slightly pointed ears, the faintly hairy feet that, in his case, were perfectly well proportioned for his body. “He’s a Hobbit?” he asked frowning, because it was so obvious he was one, only he was too big for a real Hobbit.
And then it clicked in his head, what Kurt had said. Blaine was half-Hobbit, half-Human, just like Kurt was ¾ Human, ¼ Elf. If Burt had ever had any doubt about his son feeling lonely, the doubt was gone in that moment.
Elves were kind creatures, who knew no prejudice of race or gender. Except, maybe, for their feelings towards the Dwarves, but that was a story for another day. Burt had witnessed more than once the kindness the elves had always showed towards Kurt as he was growing up, treating him as an equal.
But the truth was that Kurt had never felt like he really belonged, especially because, even though he looked like an elf, with all the strength and grace naturals to the fair race, he was very much mortal.
Elves didn’t die, they didn’t age; they could die only in battle or of a broken heart, which was extremely rare. Even the half-elves, the offspring of Elves and Men combined, could be like that if they chose to remain immortal, Like Lord Elrond of Rivendell. But not Kurt.
Kurt would have a long life, of course, but not that long - he certainly wasn’t going to live a thousand years, like his mother. Although he looked like a pure-blood elf, his elven blood was already too mixed with the mortal blood, his mother being a half-elf herself. So, Kurt didn’t have the choice the half-elves had. He would never be able to choose. He could get sick, he could get wounded, he would die like any mortal man, although Burt knew that he would always look like this, like a young lad. Kurt had three times the age of most of Burt’s men, yet he looked a lot younger than all of them.
His mortality was the reason Kurt was alone till this day. Elves bonded romantically only once in their lives, and since they lived forever, their bond was unbreakable. So strong it was that, if one of them was killed, the other died of a broken heart. It was going to happen with their Queen, Arwen Undómiel, who had married a mortal Man. Elessar Telcontar would have a long life, he was one of Burt’s kin, a Dúnedain, but he wasn’t going to live forever, and Lady Arwen was going to die sad and alone, missing her soulmate; a fate she had chosen for herself when she had married the King and had chosen a mortal life. It was going to happen with Lizbethwen, who had chosen the same fate, had she not being killed by the orcs.
Kurt had never bonded himself to anyone. Maybe he hadn’t found the right one yet, but Burt suspected that there was a lot more behind Kurt’s insistence in remaining alone. His son, being mortal, didn’t want to submit another elf to the fate of dying of a broken heart after he passed away. It would be too heartbreaking, and Kurt didn’t want this guilt upon his shoulders. Burt could only hope that Kurt would find some comfort in Valinor. Spending one’s life alone was a very sad thing. Burt thanked the Valar numerous times for having found Carole, his second wife, even if it had been more than twenty years after Lizbethwen’s death. He could say she had given him back his will to live, and a new family.
“What are you going to do with him?” Burt finally asked Kurt, eyeing the sleeping Hobbit.
“I don’t know, Father. But for tonight I will let him rest in the room Bilius prepared for you. There’s an extra bed.
“That bed is yours, you know.” Finn pointed out.
“You know I rarely sleep, brother,” Kurt said.
“Yes, but even so, we don’t need anyone to stand guard tonight,” Puck observed. “We are indoors, and we checked the nearest borders. All is secure.”
“One can never be too safe,” Art, the most prudent of them all said. “If your brother wants to stand guard tonight, let him. It will help me sleep a lot better, knowing he’s watching,” he chuckled, knowing that staying awake at night was no effort at all for the elf.
“I appreciate, Kurt,” Sam said. “But we will take turns on the journey to the Grey Havens, so you can rest too.”
“Of course,” Kurt bowed his head, smiling a little. “Now you better go to sleep; you look like you need it.”
“We all do, son,” Burt said, nodding.
Kurt approached Blaine and shook his shoulder slowly. “Blaine? Wake up. Blaine?”
But all he got from Blaine was a resounding snore.
“Blaine…?” Kurt insisted.
“Not now, uncle. Let me sleep, I can chase the chicken for supper later,” Blaine mumbled, lost in a dream.
“Um… perhaps you could help me, Finn? Could you carry him to the room…?” the elf asked, amused, eyeing the Hobbit with tender eyes. He looked like a child, sleeping like he trusted the world would take god care of him.
Finn sighed. “I hope he is as light as he looks.” He lifted Blaine in his arms unceremoniously and, of course, Blaine stirred instantly.
“What?” he mumbled, eyes darting around nervously, seeing so much strange men around.
“Shh…”Kurt said, putting a hand on Blaine’s arm to calm him, as he walked beside Finn to the room Bilius had set for the travelers. “Everything is fine, Blaine. This is my brother, Finn, and he’s helping me to take you to bed.”
“A real bed?” Blaine mumbled hopefully, closing his eyes again in exhaustion.
“Yes, a real bed.” Kurt said, unable to suppress a smile at Blaine’s tone. “You are going to sleep in a real bed tonight.”
Blaine opened his eyes, just a little, looking at Kurt with grateful eyes. “Thank you,” he said, closing them again against Finn’s arm.
“It is nothing,” Kurt said, but before he could finish, Blaine opened his eyes again, if only for a few seconds, this time looking at Finn with amazement.
“You are Kurt’s brother?” he asked, suddenly sounding a lot more awake, even though his eyes were closed again. “It is good that he has a brother. Although you don’t look like an elf at all. You look to ‘rough’ to be an elf, you’re not nearly as beautiful as he is. I have no
siblings, not that I know of. But it is really good Kurt has a brother, you know? I always wanted to have one. And…you are so tall…!”
“Sleep, Blaine,” Kurt said, half-smiling, as Finn finally put Blaine on the bed with a sigh of relief. “I thought you were tired?”
“I am,” Blaine mumbled, not even bothering to open his eyes again. “I’m just really intrigued at all these people suddenly here. I hope they don’t mind having me around. Are they all friends of yours?”
“Sweet Arda, make him stop talking, Kurt!” Finn muttered but he, too, was smiling a little.
“Blaine…” Kurt murmured, running his hand to Blaine’s soft curls. “Kaima e' seere, mellon-nín.” (sleep peacefully, my friend).
Blaine quieted immediately.
“I don’t know how you do that, my friend, but I could certainly use this with my children,” Sam said, mesmerized.
“Good night, lads,” Kurt said evenly, taking one last look at Blaine’s sleeping form and leaving the room.
-------
“Are you really sure it is no trouble if I come with you?” Blaine asked Burt for the hundredth time. “I don’t want to be a nuisance.”
“My son, invited you, didn’t he?” Burt said, as Blaine trailed behind him as an overexcited puppy. “He said you could come with us, so here you are.”
“But---but what happens once we get on the Grey Havens?” Blaine asked again.
“Kurt leaves to Valinor and we go back home,” Finn answered, already accustomed with Blaine’s incessant talking. They had been on their way for almost twelve hours now, and Blaine hadn’t stopped talking once.
“And where is home?” Blaine said sadly. “I have no home to go back to.”
“We will think of something, young one. Don’t worry,” Burt said, hoping that would stop Blaine’s questions for a while.
“How do I not get worried, sir?” Blaine asked, “When I don’t know what my future will be? If I at least had - “
“Well, if you don’t stop talking, at least for a few minutes, I can’t think properly,” Burt snapped. Frankly, did this lad was physically incapable of remaining quiet?
“Oh,” Blaine said. “I am sorry, sir. You won’t hear my voice anytime soon.”
Burt felt a twinge of guilt at Blaine’s sad tone. “It’s just that…we are used to travel in silence, lad. You never know when enemies will cross our path.”
“Enemies? You mean we are un danger?” the Hobbit said, eyes very wide.
“Blaine, please!” Burt said again, rolling his eyes. “Keep quiet. And yes, enemies, and we won’t be able to hear them coming with you talking all the time.”
Blaine nodded, quiet, making an angelical face, and kept walking between Burt and Finn, but almost running to keep up with their pace.
Not even five minutes passed.
“Where is Kurt?” Blaine asked. “Why hasn’t he come back yet?”
“Sweet Valar!” murmured Sam, rolling his eyes. “I really wish he was here, my friend. Maybe he would convince you to - oh, never mind.”
“Well, where is he?” Blaine insisted.
“Elves are like that,” Puck explained. “Always running ahead of everyone, making sure everything is calm and safe in our path.”
“Oh,” Blaine said sadly. “He said he wouldn’t take long.”
“He will be back soon,” Burt assured the Hobbit.
“I thought he had gone hunting,” Blaine said morosely.
“Hunting for what?” Fin wanted to know.
“Our lunch, of course!” Blaine said. “I hope he finds a partridge. I have some delicious spices in my pack, and I will cook a wonderful meal for us.”
“Haven’t you eaten an apple two hours ago?” Sam asked.
“No, of course not. I had three,” Blaine explained seriously. “But that was only the second breakfast, you know. It’s almost time for luncheon now, and we already skipped elevensies.”
“How many times a day do you eat?” Art asked, bemused.
“Seven times, of course!” Blaine answered, like it was the most natural thing in the world. “There’s breakfast, second breakfast, elevensies, luncheon, afternoon tea, dinner and supper!”
“You are going to be disappointed, young man,” Burt said, trying to hide a smile. “We eat two or three times a day when we are traveling, if we are lucky.”
“Three?” Blaine said, his eyes huge, in horror. “How on Arda did you all get so big if you barely eat?”
“How on Arda didn’t you get fat as a watermelon, eating so much, I ask myself,” Art muttered, barely hiding a smile of his own.
Blaine’s incessant talking was a bit annoying, but they all were trying not to smile and look serious, like the rangers they were, which meant they weren’t annoyed at all. They usually travelled in silence, and it could get sad and boring sometimes. The silence was necessary when they were patrolling the borders, but they had already done that and everything seemed to be fine. It was nice to have someone new in the group, if only for a while. Blaine’s never ending chatter provided a background noise that wasn’t unpleasant to the quiet men.
-------
Kurt hadn’t found any partridge, but he had brought two rabbits with him. A relieved Blaine started to follow him instead of Burt, much for Kurt’s father relief. That night, they’d all had dinner by the fire, and of course, Blaine had cooked the rabbits with the spices he’d brought. It was delicious, in Kurt’s opinion. The men said nothing but judging by the way they ate with gusto, they all had liked the meal very much.
They all had settled for sleep after that, but around midnight, Kurt noticed Blaine growing restless, tossing and turning on the bedroll.
“Are you hungry?” he asked, kneeling near Blaine, when he heard the familiar noise of Blaine’s stomach rumbling again.
“Um…” Blaine hesitated.
“Elves have very accurate hearing. Don’t worry; it was not that loud; they heard nothing.” He said, guessing that Blaine had been teased the entire day because of his appetite. “I brought some fruit with me, it’s in my pack. Do you want some?”
Blaine jumped from the bedroll in the blink of an eye, his face lighting with a huge smile.”Supper?”
“Yes, Blaine,” Kurt said, smiling. “Come sit by the fire.”
Blaine trotted happily behind Kurt, and when the Elf handed him a bag with some fruit, Blaine eyed them hesitantly.
“You can eat all of them, you know,” Kurt said. “We’ll find some more tomorrow.”
“Are you sure?” Blaine asked. I don’t want to eat the other’s food.
“It’s not theirs, it’s yours,” Kurt answered. “I picked them for you.”
Blaine’s eyes lit again. “You did?” The he eyed the fruit almost reverently. “No one has ever picked fruit for me before. In fact, no one but Uncle Togo paid me too much attention.”
Kurt chuckled. “This is hard to believe. You probably had tons of Hobbit ladies banging at your door, begging for your attention.”
“Hobbit ladies are not for me,” Blaine mumbled, eyes glued to the ground, taking a huge bite of the fruit.”Ladies in general are not for me. I usually don’t feel comfortable around them, and they don’t seem to understand me too much. The human ones are even more complicated.”
They sat side by side, backs resting on a huge tree.
“What about you?” Blaine asked. “All the men we are traveling with are married and have families, even your father. Why are you going to Valinor alone?”
“Elven Ladies don’t understand me. And the human ones are even more complicated,” Kurt said, imitating Blaine’s tone.
“Are you mocking me?” Blaine asked, frowning.
“Not at all!” Kurt hurried to explain. “It is just another thing I believe we have in common, Blaine.”
“What do you mean? What could we possibly have in common,Kurt? I’m just a clumsy Hobbit, and you are…you are perfect!” Blaine said, blushing.
“I am far from perfect, Blaine. The Elves’ beauty is overrated. If you are an Elf, this is all you hear from everyone you meet. There are other kinds of beauty, believe me; I’ve lived long enough to know that, as sure as the sun will come out tomorrow. And you… you are beautiful, Blaine,” Kurt murmured. “You are always smiling, even though you have been through really rough times. It is very hard to find someone like that.”
Blaine’s heart started to beat fast, and his stomach gave flip-flops again. “Beautiful? I - I am no such thing, Kurt,” he said, suddenly getting up. “It is not good to fool myself into thinking that I am like everybody else.”
“You are not,” Kurt said, sincerely. “That is what makes you unique. That is why you are a beautiful creature, who deserves to be happy. I hope you find what you are looking for, someday, and also, that you find someone to share your life with.”
Blaine didn’t say anything for a while. How could he? He wanted to say to Kurt that he had already found what he was looking for and yes, it was Kurt himself. He had completely fallen for the elf, but he would never tell him that, of course. First, because Kurt was an Elf, and Blaine was a… no one. Second, he was sure Kurt would say Blaine was only impressed by the Elf’s beauty, since they had met only a few days ago.
Kurt was the most perfect creature Blaine had ever seen, so yes, Blaine Anderson, from The Marish, across the Brandywine River, was very impressed by Kurt Hummel’s beauty. But it was not only that. Being with Kurt made Blaine feel like home and that was an alien feeling for him. He had never, in his whole life, felt at peace, like the way he did when the Elf was around. So, of course, Kurt would never return his feelings. But Blaine would be happy to be Kurt’s friend forever, if that meant he could keep seeing him always.
But Kurt was leaving Middle-Earth.
“What about you?” Blaine finally asked, sitting down beside Kurt again. “What are you looking for? Why are your eyes always so sad? Is this because you are leaving? Do you not want to leave?”
Kurt laughed a little. “So many questions…!” He looked at Blaine with amused ayes, but suddenly, something changed, and he grew serious. “Elves are melancholic creatures, it has always been like that,” Kurt said, evading Blaine’s question. “When you see too much of this world, you get a little… tired. Like you have already seen all there is to see. As for wanting to leave… It is not really a choice, it is more like a call. But I think I will miss Middle-Earth very much when I’m gone.”
“Then don’t go!” Blaine said on an impulse.
“Oh.” Kurt blushed, looking to the ground. Then he sighed, closing his eyes for a second. “Blaine… there is nothing for me here now. All the elves are leaving to Valinor; It is only natural that I go. It is the next step in the life of an Elf.”
“You said you feel we were alike…” Blaine blurted out. “Because you feel like…you don’t belong with them. Just like I feel about the Hobbits. So I don’t understand…Why do you have to go and live with the elves forever if you feel it’s not your place?”
“There is nothing for me here,” Kurt repeated, sadly. “Valinor is the only option I have of ever finding some peace.”
“I don’t understand,” Blaine insisted. “I left my village because I didn’t fit in. Why do you go willingly to somewhere you don’t - “ Blaine stopped in mid-sentence, looking at the pure sadness in Kurt’s eyes. The last thing he wanted was to distress the elf being too insistent, too nosy. “I - I am sorry,” he stuttered. “It is not my place to - “ He sighed. “I know the elves were nothing but kind with you, unlike the people I met back home. I am going back to sleep. Please forgive me.”
“You have no idea how brave you are. Leaving everything you know behind was a very brave thing to do. Perhaps…” Kurt said, avoiding Blaine’s eyes, but putting a hand on his shoulder to stop him from getting up. “Perhaps I am not so brave.”
“I don’t believe that.” Blaine said vehemently. “You are perfect, and it is not only because you are beautiful. You are kind, Kurt. You helped me, a complete stranger, when no one wanted to. You are brave, because all the men talk about you, and they say great things. Your father is very proud of you. So don’t try to change my mind about this. You are a perfect creature, and that is my final word.”
Kurt smiled, amused by Blaine’s speech, but also touched. “Hannon le,” (thank you) he said.
“What does it mean?” Blaine asked, curious.
“It means ‘thank you’, Blaine,” Kurt answered.
“Can I ask you something?” Blaine said on an impulse.
“Of course; you can ask me anything.”
Blaine took a deep breath. “Don’t walk so ahead of us tomorrow. And all the other days. I feel sad when - I mean, the men feel sad when you are not around.”
“Oh?” Kurt raised an eyebrow. “I thought they didn’t mind.”
“Well, if they don’t, I do,” Blaine said hurriedly, before his courage left him. “I mean, they - they don’t pay me much attention. I don’t think they like me very much.”
Kurt shook his head. “It is impossible not to like you.”
“It is?” Blaine asked, caramel eyes wide.
Kurt widened his eyes too, like he had just realized what he had said. “I mean - well, you… you - “
“If you don’t mind my company, we could walk together?” Blaine said in a rush. “You could teach me a few words in Elvish and - that is, if I am not annoying you and - “
“Not at all!” Kurt exclaimed, looking very embarrassed all of a sudden. I would love to teach you Elvish and I - I like your company.”
“Really?” Blaine’s whole face lit up in a big smile he couldn’t control.
“Really,” Kurt answered, but suddenly got up, looking everywhere. “I - I need to go find - I need to keep guard. You need to sleep. Goodnight Blaine!”
Not even Kurt’s sudden departure too the foolish grin off Blaine’s face.
-----
They spent the next few days like this: Kurt and Blaine walking side by side, talking and laughing about the silly and funny things Blaine always said. Kurt taught him a few words in Elvish, and Blaine was a fast learner, which pleased Kurt very much. Ha had not been able to teach Elvish neither to his father, nor to his brother. It was not that they were stupid; it just meant that Blaine had a natural talent for learning.
“Do you have many books? Blaine would ask, eyes dreaming. “Uncle Togo had a few, but I have read most of them too fast, and soon there was nothing left for me to read.”
“I left all my books in Lothlórien,” Kurt would say, but then remember that he would not go back, and keep quiet for a few seconds, thinking. Until something Blaine said would make him laugh again.
The days were hot, but the nights were cold. After dinner - which Blaine would always cook, happy to be useful - the men would sit by the fire and tell stories until sleep overtook them. Blaine always had something funny to tell, and he felt that, bit by bit, the rangers were starting not only to tolerate him, but to really like him.
Sometimes he would catch Kurt’s eyes across the fire, and the intensity of the Elf’s gaze on him would make him completely forget what he was saying. Burt and Finn would look at him knowingly, then one of them would pat his back, and Blaine would remember how to breathe again.
After everyone was asleep, Kurt would open his bag and give Blaine the fruit he had collected for him earlier. They would walk together to a tree a little bit away from the sleeping man, sit side by side and talk about anything and everything. Then Blaine would yawn, Kurt would smile and tell him to go to sleep.
Once in a while one of the men stayed awake at night, guarding the camp, so Kurt could rest a little. He would spread his bedroll beside Burt and Finn, because he always did so when they traveled together.
“Come here, Blaine, sit with me by the fire,” Puck said one night when he was on guard “I can see you’re not asleep so if you don’t mind, sing me a song from the Shire. Kurt said your voice is very good.”
Blaine nodded and went happily. Anything so he wouldn’t miss Kurt’s company tonight. He understood that the Elf needed to spend some time with his father and brother, since he was going away forever and - he shook his head to send the unpleasant thought away.
“What’s wrong?” Puck asked.
“Nothing,” Blaine answered hurriedly. “I can sing you something from The Marish, where I come from.”
A few meters away, Kurt watched Blaine singing, trying to stay very quiet on the bedroll. Blaine had the most beautiful voice; strong, yet melodious, each note echoing wonderfully in the silent night.
“You like him, don’t you?”
Kurt startled, looking up. Burt was sitting beside him, rubbing his eyes sleepily.
“Yes, he is a good friend.”
“I don’t mean like that,” Burt said. “You were staring at him, and there was longing in your eyes, Kurt.”
“I don’t know what you are talking about,” Kurt tried to avoid the subject as best as he could.
“Yes, you do,” Burt said. “Look, if you like him, why don’t you - “
“Father, please!” Kurt said, exasperated.
“What? There is nothing wrong with you two staying together! I know how lonely you are, Kurt. And I am not blind; I can see the way Blaine looks at you. He is a good lad, if a bit noisy.”
“In case you have forgotten, I am leaving.”
“Look, son, I know I don’t have a say in this. It is your life and you are a grown-up. But are you sure you have to leave?”
“Yes, I am,” Kurt answered sadly. “Of all the things I could have… inherited from my Elven blood…” Kurt sighed, “This longing for the sea is definitely one of them. I know you don’t understand, Father. But once the longing for Valinor starts, an Elf must sail. Or the longing will consume him. If I don’t go, I will turn into a bitter and sad creature, and this is something I cannot allow to happen.”
“What about Blaine?”
Kurt looked at the smiling Hobbit, across the camp. “He will stay. That is why I can’t - “
“I know,” Burt said. “This is about the ‘bonding’ thing, isn’t it? If you start something… you will not be able to leave him.”
“That is true. I only wish… that I could be certain that he will be safe. He has nowhere else to go.”
“I can’t promise I will take care of him, but I can take him with me to the village.”
“I don’t know, Father. A men’s village…?”
“Or you could change your mind and stay.”
“That is not an option.”
“Kurt…” Burt sighed when his son looked away from him, determined. “Alright, I know. But you are aiming for a broken heart, whether you stay or go.”
“There is nothing I can do about it.” I already feel my heart being torn in two, Kurt thought.
Author: Ana - anwamane13
Title: The Hobbit And The Elf
Genre: AU, Crossover, a little bit of Crack, maybe?
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 16.448
Warnings: extreme sappiness and fluff, Lord of the Rings references
Summary: Blaine, the Hobbitt, meets Kurt, the Elf.
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. No copyright infringement is intended. All characters are the property of J.R.Tolkien, RIB and FOX. No money is being made with the story. In other words…If Kurt and Blaine were mine, they would be kissing all the time.
Author Notes:
1- This is my not my first fic, but it is my first GLEE fic. If you don’t like it, don’t kill me, I’m nice.
2- This is a birthday gift to a very special person. ‘thealmostsmartone’, you are awesome. I just want you to never forget that you mean the world to me and that I will always be there for you, no matter what.
3- This idea started a few months ago, when I made a photomanip of Kurt as an Elf and Blaine as a Hobbit. The wonderful ‘thealmostsmartone’ asked me to write a fic with that plot, but, as always, I was too busy to do it. Last week, with her birthday coming - which is today, by the way - I decided to write it. I hope she likes it, I did my best.
4- This work is not betaed. I wrote this is three days and I didn’t have time to find a beta to help me. English is not mu first language, so I expect that you will find some mistakes - maybe a lot - here and there. I’m sorry, guys. If I ever find someone to beta this for me, I promise to edit the whole thing. If you find something wrong, please let me know so I can fix it.
5- There is a glossary at the end of Part Two, for those ones who don’t know anything about Lord of the Rings. You don’t need to know everything about LOTR to read this story, but it will be easier if you are at least familiar with some concepts.
6- Blaine is half-Hobbit and Kurt is Half-Elf. First, because the height difference between them would be too big if they were pure bloods, so… no, just not hot at all for them to be together, Blaine being 3.9 and Kurt being 5.9 feet. No. just no. Second, Elves live forever. I don’t want Kurt suffering alone forever after Blaine’s death.
7- I am truly sorry about the language. This is Tolkien, The Lord of the Rings. Even if the characters are from Glee, I could not have Finn saying “hey, Dude!” or Kurt making a “bitch, please” face. So expressions like “come on”, “hey”, “let’s go” will be very hard to find. I may be have left one or two slip, but only because I didn’t have time to read this a hundred times.
8- Kurt is an Elf. Therefore, he speaks Elvish. Just a little. But don't worry, there is a translation right after the Elvish sentences.
THE HOBBIT AND THE ELF - - A Glee and Lord of The Rings Crossover.
He was tired and his feet hurt, but as he approached Bree’s wooden gates, he felt a little hope coming back. ‘Food’, he thought, and maybe a place to rest. The journey had been a long one, from across the river and through all the land of Staddle, the village on the southeastern slopes of the Bree hills.
He had entertained the idea of finding shelter at Staddle, but as he passed the houses and the poorly arranged streets, pebbles hurting his bare feet, he could feel the stares and he knew he would find no place to stay there. People stared too much, and he was tired of stares.
All his life, it had been like this. Since he was found at his godfather’s door, a crying dirty bundle, they all knew he was different. And different had always been frowned upon in the village. He was too big to be a Halfling, even as a newborn, and yet his slightly pointed ears, barely covered by his curly black hair and hairy feet left no doubt about his ancestry.
Sometimes he got lost in his thoughts, thinking why he had been left at all. Was he so different that not even his mother had wanted him? But then again, he was glad for having been left at his godfather’s doorstep. Togo Knotwise, whom he called ‘uncle’, had a good, kind heart, and had always been a good godfather, taking him under his roof and his protection when no one would have done it. It was better than being left at a man’s village, because men were rougher and far less kind. Who knew what men could have done with him as a child. Slavery wasn’t unheard of, even now, at the days of the King.
--------
“Don’t go, Blaine,” Togo had said, his old face the picture of sadness. “The world is too big, too dangerous…Hobbits are not supposed to like adventure.”
“I’m not a Hobbit,” Blaine answered sadly. ”Not a real one, anyway…You know I have to go, uncle,” Blaine went on. “I need to find a place that I can call home. You know I don’t belong here, if I ever belonged anywhere in this world.”
“Don’t talk like that, son,” Togo said, shaking his head. “I don’t like to see you like this. Especially when I don’t know when, or if I will ever see you again.”
“Uncle, you know how much I love you, but I just… I’m tired. I’m too tall to be a Hobbit and too short to be a Man. How cruelly ironic is that? And nobody but you understands how lonely it is. I just don’t want to feel like an outsider anymore.”
“You will always have a place to stay here, Blaine. I hope you know that.”
“I do, and I’m very grateful. But please, keep your money, uncle Togo,” Blaine said, pushing back to his godfather’s hands the bag of coins he was offering, refusing to take more money from such a caring person. “I need to learn how to take care of myself. You’ve been always
there, protecting me, but now… I need to do this. On my own.”
“I understand,” Togo said.
”And I’ve already abused your generosity too much.”
“It was never a question of generosity. I always loved you, Blaine. You were always a sweet boy, despite all your height and clumsiness,” the old man murmured, trying to joke, standing on his tiptoes to hug his godson. “But you’re right. You really don’t belong here, my lad, as much as it pains me to say so. May the Valar protect you. I hope you find what you’re looking for.”
------
It was ironic that now his feet were carrying him to a men’s village, and it had been his own choice. He would be find a way of embarrassing himself, he had no doubt about that, because on top of everything, he was clumsy and noisy, jumping on furniture whenever he sang, banging doors loudly, like the Hobbit he was. Only, with his size, at least for a Hobbit, he always ended up breaking something and there was nothing he could do to stop it. He lost count of how many things he’d broken in Togo’s house, or how many times his head hit the ceiling because he jumped too much. Hobbits lived in holes in the ground, not designed for someone “tall” like him. Nothing, in the village where he’d spent the first twenty years of his life, had been designed for someone like him.
Togo’s neighbors surely didn’t like him, always singing and making noise everywhere. He’d always had the impression that the people in the Hobbit village only tolerated him, treating him well only because Togo was respected and loved by everyone. But at least in Bree, where Hobbits and Men seemed to live and get along just fine, he supposed he had a chance. He could pass for a short man, if he no one paid too much attention, and if he managed to wear the uncomfortable shoes men always wore. He could find work and a place to stay; Blaine was not afraid of working hard. He only needed a chance to prove himself.
------
The Prancing Pony was almost empty that night, and when Blaine pushed at the heavy doors slowly, he felt everybody staring at him. But it was a different stare, the kind you give to a newcomer, with only a hint of curiosity.
Blaine took a step forward, only to trip over the doorstep and ended in an ungraceful heap on the floor. He took a deep breath, got up, straightened himself as best as he could and walked straight to the counter, where a fat, long-haired man was cleaning some glasses with a dirty rag.
“Good evening sir,” he said, his voice sounding strange to his own ears, after so many days walking alone with no one to talk to. “Do you have a room I could stay in? And perhaps some food? I’ve been travelling for a long time.”
The man eyed him up and down, both eyebrows arched. His gaze stopped at his pointed ears and his plush eyebrows for a while, and when he noticed his slightly hairy and bare feet, the man frowned a little. But no harsh words left his mouth. “That we have, but can you pay for it, Mr.…?”
Blaine hurriedly put three little golden coins on the counter. “Here. It’s all I have.”
The man picked one coin and bit it, frowning a little. “It’s not enough for food and a room.”
“Please, sir…” he said, eyes downcast. “I’ve been travelling for a week. It’s been a long time since I had a decent meal and slept in anything resembling a bed.”
“I understand,” the man said, grimacing. “But I’m sorry, lad, you still have to pay for it. All these coins can get you is some bread and soup.”
“Don’t you need any help here?” Blaine said hopefully. “I could do the dishes, serve the tables. I - I can sing to the customers!”
“If I let you do the dishes I would have nothing left after a while,” the man said, referring to Blaine’s clumsiness. “Listen, young man” the fat man said, “I can see you’re hungry, and you are welcome to stay and eat as long as you can pay for it. But I don’t need help here, and even if I did, I wouldn’t be able to pay you. And I definitely don’t need anyone to sing. Men come here to drink and to forget their troubles, not to listen to music. These are difficult times, I’m sure you know that… and we barely have enough for ourselves in this village.”
“Oh,” he said, shoulders hunching. “That means I can’t stay, then.”
“I am truly sorry, “the big man said, sounding sincere.
“Is it because…?” he started to ask, but lost his courage.
“Because you’re a half-blood?” The man gave a short laugh. “I know this is frowned upon in many places, but not here. We really don’t care about these things, not in this village, with so many Hobbits around. Not that I’ve ever seen such a combination, but who am I to judge? I like Hobbits, they never gave my business any trouble and are always very polite when they come here. I don’t care what you are, lad, your money is as good to me as anyone’s. But I can see that, unfortunately, money is something you don’t have.”
“I apologize for taking your time, sir,” Blaine said, defeated, turning to leave.
“Wait.” The man sighed and put a hand on his arm, then let go. “It’s not that I don’t care. Here, have some bread, on my account. Look, the town was almost devastated by orcs during the war. Then came the men of Harad, destroying everything they touched. Our King is still struggling to solve all the problems, and he can’t solve them all at once. The village is poor as it is, I don’t believe you will be able to find any kind of job around here, if that’s your intention.”
“Serve him a full meal, Bilius,” said a melodious voice from the end of the room. “I’ll pay for it.”
Blaine turned to look, but all he could see was a figure clad in a dark green cloak and hood, sitting at the farthest table from where he was and partially hidden by the shadows.
“Are you sure, sir?” The fat long-haired man, Bilius, asked uncertain. “They tend to eat a lot. And this one is big for a Hobbit, which means he certainly eats like two, maybe three of the little ones combined.”
“I said serve him a full meal. We can discuss his appetite later.” The voice was almost musical, the words softly spoken, but with clear authority behind them.
“I… thank you sir, but I don’t need charity,” Blaine said, giving a few steps in the direction of the stranger. “I can accept your offer, but only if you let me pay for it in some kind.”
“You said you can sing,” the melodious voice said, sounding amused, yet strangely melancholic.
“I can,” Blaine answered, already regretting it. “I mean, my godfather always said I’m good at singing, but…”
“Do you have a name?” the stranger asked.
“B- Blaine Anderson, sir.”
“So…” the man uncrossed his legs elegantly and leaned forward, but not enough to allow his face to be seen. “Sing me something, Blaine Anderson, and consider your debt paid.”
Blaine gulped. How on Arda was he supposed to sing to someone with such a beautiful voice? This person could certainly sing better than he ever would. But then he heard the clattering of dishes coming from behind the counter, and he could already smell whatever they had cooking in there. His stomach rumbled loudly.
“I - I’m sorry,” he said sheepishly. His stomach grumbled loudly again and Blaine blushed furiously.
“Don’t be, it’s not something you can control,” the stranger chuckled. “You were offering to sing to the customers minutes ago in exchange for food. I am a customer. And…It’s been awhile since I heard any other voices singing but mine,” he asked, and Blaine found himself unable to do anything but obey.
Blaine took another deep breath. “Courage,” he thought, closing his eyes and letting the music flow through him, his strong voice echoing through the walls.
Sing all ye joyful, now sing all together!
The wind's in the tree-top, the wind's in the heather,
The stars are in blossom, the moon is in flower,
And bright are the windows of Night in her tower.
Dance all ye joyful, now dance all together!
Soft is the grass, and let foot be like feather!
The river is silver, the shadows are fleeting;
Merry is May-time, and merry our meeting.
Sing we now softly, and dreams let us weave him!
Wind him in slumber and there let us leave him!
The wanderer sleepeth. Now soft be his pillow!
Lullaby! Lullaby! Alder and Willow!
Sigh no more Pine, till the wind of the morn!
Fall Moon! Dark be the land!
Hush! Hush! Oak, Ash, and Thorn!
Hushed be all water, till dawn is at hand!
When Blaine opened his eyes, he saw that he was standing on a table, sweaty and red from singing and jumping all around. Once again, he had lost himself in the music and had simply let go, not even noticing when he had started to climb on the furniture. He cursed inwardly, thanking the Valar that he hadn’t broken anything this time.
“That was beautiful, Mr. Anderson,” the stranger said, his voice in an amused tone. “You have a beautiful voice; a very strong one. Now sit by the fire and appreciate your meal. Bilius is not much of a cook, but at least the food is hot.”
“Could I at least see the face of my benefector, sir, if it is not much to ask for?” Blaine said boldly, jumping to the floor. He was dying to have a face to associate with that beautiful voice.
“Of course,” the stranger said, getting up and stepping into the light. “It’s the least I can do, after you shared your talent with me.” Looking around, Blaine could see that the place was almost empty now, save for the two of them and Bilius, who was busy serving Blaine’s plate.
The first thing Blaine noticed was that the person was two or three inches taller than him, lithe, with fluid and gracious movements, like a dancer. Then, a very pale hand left the hidden folds of the cloak. It was thin, with long fingers, certainly made to play instruments, Blaine was almost sure of that. When the hood was lifted, Blaine let out a gasp.
In front of him was the most beautiful creature he had ever seen in his whole life. Porcelain skin, perfect nose, rosy and thin lips, and blue eyes that changed to green and gray every time the man blinked. But as soon as Blaine thought that, he realized he was wrong. That was no man. There was no mistaking the light brown, long hair, held in a single braid, and the pointy ears.
“An elf…!” Blaine said, mesmerized by the elf’s beauty. He had never seen one.
The elf smiled, albeit a little sadly. “Not quite,” he said softly, melancholic glasz eyes scanning the room sharply. “Not quite,” he said again, almost to himself. “I am Kurt,” he said, this time addressing Blaine, bowing his head a little, in a gracious movement. “Kurt Hummel.”
Blaine kept his mouth open like an idiot, unable to stop staring. He was making a fool of himself, he knew, but his ability to speak had left him the moment he had laid eyes on Kurt’s perfect face.
Blaine’s stare and dumb expression apparently made Kurt uncomfortable, because the elf blinked at him a few times, blushed and looked around. “Bilius? Where is the food?” he said a little too loudly to the fat man, who was already approaching them with a steaming plate.
Blaine would have said he was sorry for embarrassing Kurt, if he’d been capable of speaking. Only, he had never seen someone so beautiful in his whole life, and not even the smell coming from the plate - which in Blaine’s opinion, smelled like Heaven, if Heaven had a smell, so hungry he was - could distract him from the elf’s face.
“You can go, Bilius,” Kurt said, when the man put the plate on the table by the fire. “It’s already too late; go and take some rest. I will open the door for the others when they arrive.”
“Yes, sir. Good night, sir,” Bilius mumbled, then he looked at Blaine. “What about him?”
“Don’t worry, your services will be well paid, as always,” Kurt said softly, but with authority, and Bilius bowed hastily and left.
The silence was so great when the man left, that even the wind blowing softly against the gaps of the windows could be heard.
“Aren’t you going to eat?” Kurt asked, arching graciously one eyebrow, after a few minutes.
“Oh!” Blaine finally snapped out of his daze. “Yes, thank you.”
He practically attacked the food, while Kurt sat in front of him and watched with an amused expression. If before he could barely utter a word, now that he had started eating, Blaine couldn’t control his desire to keep talking, and he soon found himself spilling the story of his life to Kurt, like they’d been friends forever. He didn’t even care that he was speaking with is mouth full, while he told Kurt all the ups and downs of being a “big” Hobbit, like they called him. Well, more downs than ups, from his point of view, but he managed to make it sound funny. He didn’t want anyone’s pity, especially from the beautiful elf.
“They always needed me to hang the decorations, every time there was to be a party in the village,” Blaine said, talking about his life in the Hobbit small town. “I was the only one who could reach the trees. But they also always ended up hiding part the food from me, because more than once I ate almost everything before the party started.”
Yes, it was common knowledge that the Hobbits were legendary gluttons. The laugh Kurt gave startled Blaine and made his heart flutter in a funny way, and his stomach gave a little flip. Maybe he had already eaten too much and too fast, as always, and was having gas pains, he thought. But he couldn’t stop thinking that the sound of Kurt’s laugh was the most beautiful sound in the world, and that there was nothing he wouldn’t do to hear it over and over again.
------
It was past midnight when a loud bang on the door was heard. Kurt got up from his chair and walked to the door, opening with without hesitation.
A man dressed in brown entered the inn. He was older than Kurt and bald, but tall and strong, and he carried himself with pride and authority. It was obvious he was a leader.
“I apologize for being late,” he said, smiling tiredly at Kurt. “But the wind was too strong on the other side of the hill, making it difficult to walk, and the night is too dark.”
“There is no moon tonight,” Kurt observed.
The bald man stepped inside and looked behind him, saying, “Well, come inside, men. We have reached our destination for tonight. We deserve all the rest we can get.”
One by one, four men entered the inn, following the leader, all dressed like him, all smiling slightly at Kurt and clasping his arm in a greeting familiar gesture.
“Puck, Sam, Art…” Kurt greeted them in return. “And how are you, Finn?” he said to the last one, the tallest of them all.
“I am well, brother,” the second in command answered, smiling down at the elf. “But I am tired and hungry. The night is cold and we didn’t want to stop to eat until we reached the border.
“You talk like there was any food left for us to eat, my friend,” Puck complained, already walking to the kitchen. “I hope Bilius left us some ale.”
“There is food in the kitchen. The soup is still hot,” Kurt said. “And yes, the ale is there, and there’s plenty.”
“Well, let’s not wait then, let’s eat, men!” Finn said, patting Kurt on the back and walking with the others to the kitchen.
“How are you, son?” The leader said, finally stepping in front of Kurt and holding the elf in his arms.
“Well as expected, Father.”
Burt Hummel marveled once again at how frail his son Kurt looked, but knowing that being partially Elf, partially Human, with the blood of the Númenóreans and the Eldar combined, Kurt was anything but weak. He was a fierce and skilled warrior, if only a little short for an Elf, but there was no denying that his grace, beauty and battle skills came from the Fair Folk.
Burt had met Lizbethwen Telemnar, Kurt’s mother, when he was very young, when he first started patrolling the borders with his kin, the Dúnedain, and had fallen for her instantly. She was half-elven, raised in Lothlórien, and therefore, she could have chosen either a mortal or an immortal life; like all the half-Elves could. And yet she had chosen him. She had never regretted bonding herself to him, to a mortal life, and that was something Burt would never understand, because she was so perfect and he was just an Edain, even though he had the blood of Númenor in his veins.
Kurt was their only son, and for a while they’d lived happy on the other side of the Aduin. But when the Dark Shadow started over Middle Earth, orcs had killed his sweet wife, leaving Burt unable to deal with his son. As an elfling that was still too young to live away from his mother, Kurt was very fragile. Burt had no idea how to take care of him. He had taken Kurt to Lothlórien to be raised by the elves, and dedicated his life to protect his son and the forests the elves loved so much against the ones that had killed Lizbethwen.
He visited Kurt often, but the orcs had grown more and more numerous as the years went by and since the War of the Ring had started, Burt had seen his son less and less. Being graced with the long life of Númenor, Burt had been able to see his son grow up until adulthood. Now Kurt was sixty, fully grown, a proud warrior, perfectly able to protect himself and anyone else that happened to be near him.
Now Kurt was leaving to Valinor, and Burt would never see him again.
Kurt had heard the cries of the gulls on the shore and now his heart longed for the sea. Burt had no idea how it worked, this longing for the sea that apparently every single elf experienced one day…especially Kurt not being a pure-blood elf. But he knew that when an elf started longing for the sea, he had to go to Valinor. It was simple like that, one of the unquestionable things of the elven ways, and it wasn’t Burt’s place to question that. He was just a Man, after all. And he had promised his son that, when the time came for him to leave, Burt and the son from his second marriage - to a human, this time - Kurt’s half-brother, Finn, would escort Kurt to the Grey Havens. A final goodbye.
------
“Who is he?” Finn asked, after burping loudly and apparently only seeing Blaine when they all had finished eating.
Kurt looked at the farthest corner of the room, where Blaine was sleeping peacefully, still at his bench, head resting on his folded arms over the table. Blaine hadn’t stopped talking for some time, but Kurt could see him getting more and more exhausted. Suddenly, the dark-haired boy had fallen asleep, almost in mid-sentence. Kurt didn’t have the heart to disturb him, and he certainly would not make him leave the inn, not in this cold night and knowing full well that Blaine had nowhere to go.
Blaine appeared to be sleeping so profoundly that not even the loud laughter from the men had awoken him. The sight of him sleeping made Kurt’s heart ache in a way he had not experienced before.
“He’s a friend,” Kurt answered, a soft smile tugging at the corner of his lips.
Burt arched his eyebrows at the soft tone on his son’s voice. “I thought you were traveling alone son.”
“I am,” Kurt answered. “I met him just a few hours ago.”
“And he’s already a friend?”
“We’re alike,” Kurt said. “He’s only looking for a place to belong.” Just like me, Kurt left unsaid.
Burt look at the sleeping lad, taking in his curly black hair, his plush eyebrows, his slightly pointed ears, the faintly hairy feet that, in his case, were perfectly well proportioned for his body. “He’s a Hobbit?” he asked frowning, because it was so obvious he was one, only he was too big for a real Hobbit.
And then it clicked in his head, what Kurt had said. Blaine was half-Hobbit, half-Human, just like Kurt was ¾ Human, ¼ Elf. If Burt had ever had any doubt about his son feeling lonely, the doubt was gone in that moment.
Elves were kind creatures, who knew no prejudice of race or gender. Except, maybe, for their feelings towards the Dwarves, but that was a story for another day. Burt had witnessed more than once the kindness the elves had always showed towards Kurt as he was growing up, treating him as an equal.
But the truth was that Kurt had never felt like he really belonged, especially because, even though he looked like an elf, with all the strength and grace naturals to the fair race, he was very much mortal.
Elves didn’t die, they didn’t age; they could die only in battle or of a broken heart, which was extremely rare. Even the half-elves, the offspring of Elves and Men combined, could be like that if they chose to remain immortal, Like Lord Elrond of Rivendell. But not Kurt.
Kurt would have a long life, of course, but not that long - he certainly wasn’t going to live a thousand years, like his mother. Although he looked like a pure-blood elf, his elven blood was already too mixed with the mortal blood, his mother being a half-elf herself. So, Kurt didn’t have the choice the half-elves had. He would never be able to choose. He could get sick, he could get wounded, he would die like any mortal man, although Burt knew that he would always look like this, like a young lad. Kurt had three times the age of most of Burt’s men, yet he looked a lot younger than all of them.
His mortality was the reason Kurt was alone till this day. Elves bonded romantically only once in their lives, and since they lived forever, their bond was unbreakable. So strong it was that, if one of them was killed, the other died of a broken heart. It was going to happen with their Queen, Arwen Undómiel, who had married a mortal Man. Elessar Telcontar would have a long life, he was one of Burt’s kin, a Dúnedain, but he wasn’t going to live forever, and Lady Arwen was going to die sad and alone, missing her soulmate; a fate she had chosen for herself when she had married the King and had chosen a mortal life. It was going to happen with Lizbethwen, who had chosen the same fate, had she not being killed by the orcs.
Kurt had never bonded himself to anyone. Maybe he hadn’t found the right one yet, but Burt suspected that there was a lot more behind Kurt’s insistence in remaining alone. His son, being mortal, didn’t want to submit another elf to the fate of dying of a broken heart after he passed away. It would be too heartbreaking, and Kurt didn’t want this guilt upon his shoulders. Burt could only hope that Kurt would find some comfort in Valinor. Spending one’s life alone was a very sad thing. Burt thanked the Valar numerous times for having found Carole, his second wife, even if it had been more than twenty years after Lizbethwen’s death. He could say she had given him back his will to live, and a new family.
“What are you going to do with him?” Burt finally asked Kurt, eyeing the sleeping Hobbit.
“I don’t know, Father. But for tonight I will let him rest in the room Bilius prepared for you. There’s an extra bed.
“That bed is yours, you know.” Finn pointed out.
“You know I rarely sleep, brother,” Kurt said.
“Yes, but even so, we don’t need anyone to stand guard tonight,” Puck observed. “We are indoors, and we checked the nearest borders. All is secure.”
“One can never be too safe,” Art, the most prudent of them all said. “If your brother wants to stand guard tonight, let him. It will help me sleep a lot better, knowing he’s watching,” he chuckled, knowing that staying awake at night was no effort at all for the elf.
“I appreciate, Kurt,” Sam said. “But we will take turns on the journey to the Grey Havens, so you can rest too.”
“Of course,” Kurt bowed his head, smiling a little. “Now you better go to sleep; you look like you need it.”
“We all do, son,” Burt said, nodding.
Kurt approached Blaine and shook his shoulder slowly. “Blaine? Wake up. Blaine?”
But all he got from Blaine was a resounding snore.
“Blaine…?” Kurt insisted.
“Not now, uncle. Let me sleep, I can chase the chicken for supper later,” Blaine mumbled, lost in a dream.
“Um… perhaps you could help me, Finn? Could you carry him to the room…?” the elf asked, amused, eyeing the Hobbit with tender eyes. He looked like a child, sleeping like he trusted the world would take god care of him.
Finn sighed. “I hope he is as light as he looks.” He lifted Blaine in his arms unceremoniously and, of course, Blaine stirred instantly.
“What?” he mumbled, eyes darting around nervously, seeing so much strange men around.
“Shh…”Kurt said, putting a hand on Blaine’s arm to calm him, as he walked beside Finn to the room Bilius had set for the travelers. “Everything is fine, Blaine. This is my brother, Finn, and he’s helping me to take you to bed.”
“A real bed?” Blaine mumbled hopefully, closing his eyes again in exhaustion.
“Yes, a real bed.” Kurt said, unable to suppress a smile at Blaine’s tone. “You are going to sleep in a real bed tonight.”
Blaine opened his eyes, just a little, looking at Kurt with grateful eyes. “Thank you,” he said, closing them again against Finn’s arm.
“It is nothing,” Kurt said, but before he could finish, Blaine opened his eyes again, if only for a few seconds, this time looking at Finn with amazement.
“You are Kurt’s brother?” he asked, suddenly sounding a lot more awake, even though his eyes were closed again. “It is good that he has a brother. Although you don’t look like an elf at all. You look to ‘rough’ to be an elf, you’re not nearly as beautiful as he is. I have no
siblings, not that I know of. But it is really good Kurt has a brother, you know? I always wanted to have one. And…you are so tall…!”
“Sleep, Blaine,” Kurt said, half-smiling, as Finn finally put Blaine on the bed with a sigh of relief. “I thought you were tired?”
“I am,” Blaine mumbled, not even bothering to open his eyes again. “I’m just really intrigued at all these people suddenly here. I hope they don’t mind having me around. Are they all friends of yours?”
“Sweet Arda, make him stop talking, Kurt!” Finn muttered but he, too, was smiling a little.
“Blaine…” Kurt murmured, running his hand to Blaine’s soft curls. “Kaima e' seere, mellon-nín.” (sleep peacefully, my friend).
Blaine quieted immediately.
“I don’t know how you do that, my friend, but I could certainly use this with my children,” Sam said, mesmerized.
“Good night, lads,” Kurt said evenly, taking one last look at Blaine’s sleeping form and leaving the room.
-------
“Are you really sure it is no trouble if I come with you?” Blaine asked Burt for the hundredth time. “I don’t want to be a nuisance.”
“My son, invited you, didn’t he?” Burt said, as Blaine trailed behind him as an overexcited puppy. “He said you could come with us, so here you are.”
“But---but what happens once we get on the Grey Havens?” Blaine asked again.
“Kurt leaves to Valinor and we go back home,” Finn answered, already accustomed with Blaine’s incessant talking. They had been on their way for almost twelve hours now, and Blaine hadn’t stopped talking once.
“And where is home?” Blaine said sadly. “I have no home to go back to.”
“We will think of something, young one. Don’t worry,” Burt said, hoping that would stop Blaine’s questions for a while.
“How do I not get worried, sir?” Blaine asked, “When I don’t know what my future will be? If I at least had - “
“Well, if you don’t stop talking, at least for a few minutes, I can’t think properly,” Burt snapped. Frankly, did this lad was physically incapable of remaining quiet?
“Oh,” Blaine said. “I am sorry, sir. You won’t hear my voice anytime soon.”
Burt felt a twinge of guilt at Blaine’s sad tone. “It’s just that…we are used to travel in silence, lad. You never know when enemies will cross our path.”
“Enemies? You mean we are un danger?” the Hobbit said, eyes very wide.
“Blaine, please!” Burt said again, rolling his eyes. “Keep quiet. And yes, enemies, and we won’t be able to hear them coming with you talking all the time.”
Blaine nodded, quiet, making an angelical face, and kept walking between Burt and Finn, but almost running to keep up with their pace.
Not even five minutes passed.
“Where is Kurt?” Blaine asked. “Why hasn’t he come back yet?”
“Sweet Valar!” murmured Sam, rolling his eyes. “I really wish he was here, my friend. Maybe he would convince you to - oh, never mind.”
“Well, where is he?” Blaine insisted.
“Elves are like that,” Puck explained. “Always running ahead of everyone, making sure everything is calm and safe in our path.”
“Oh,” Blaine said sadly. “He said he wouldn’t take long.”
“He will be back soon,” Burt assured the Hobbit.
“I thought he had gone hunting,” Blaine said morosely.
“Hunting for what?” Fin wanted to know.
“Our lunch, of course!” Blaine said. “I hope he finds a partridge. I have some delicious spices in my pack, and I will cook a wonderful meal for us.”
“Haven’t you eaten an apple two hours ago?” Sam asked.
“No, of course not. I had three,” Blaine explained seriously. “But that was only the second breakfast, you know. It’s almost time for luncheon now, and we already skipped elevensies.”
“How many times a day do you eat?” Art asked, bemused.
“Seven times, of course!” Blaine answered, like it was the most natural thing in the world. “There’s breakfast, second breakfast, elevensies, luncheon, afternoon tea, dinner and supper!”
“You are going to be disappointed, young man,” Burt said, trying to hide a smile. “We eat two or three times a day when we are traveling, if we are lucky.”
“Three?” Blaine said, his eyes huge, in horror. “How on Arda did you all get so big if you barely eat?”
“How on Arda didn’t you get fat as a watermelon, eating so much, I ask myself,” Art muttered, barely hiding a smile of his own.
Blaine’s incessant talking was a bit annoying, but they all were trying not to smile and look serious, like the rangers they were, which meant they weren’t annoyed at all. They usually travelled in silence, and it could get sad and boring sometimes. The silence was necessary when they were patrolling the borders, but they had already done that and everything seemed to be fine. It was nice to have someone new in the group, if only for a while. Blaine’s never ending chatter provided a background noise that wasn’t unpleasant to the quiet men.
-------
Kurt hadn’t found any partridge, but he had brought two rabbits with him. A relieved Blaine started to follow him instead of Burt, much for Kurt’s father relief. That night, they’d all had dinner by the fire, and of course, Blaine had cooked the rabbits with the spices he’d brought. It was delicious, in Kurt’s opinion. The men said nothing but judging by the way they ate with gusto, they all had liked the meal very much.
They all had settled for sleep after that, but around midnight, Kurt noticed Blaine growing restless, tossing and turning on the bedroll.
“Are you hungry?” he asked, kneeling near Blaine, when he heard the familiar noise of Blaine’s stomach rumbling again.
“Um…” Blaine hesitated.
“Elves have very accurate hearing. Don’t worry; it was not that loud; they heard nothing.” He said, guessing that Blaine had been teased the entire day because of his appetite. “I brought some fruit with me, it’s in my pack. Do you want some?”
Blaine jumped from the bedroll in the blink of an eye, his face lighting with a huge smile.”Supper?”
“Yes, Blaine,” Kurt said, smiling. “Come sit by the fire.”
Blaine trotted happily behind Kurt, and when the Elf handed him a bag with some fruit, Blaine eyed them hesitantly.
“You can eat all of them, you know,” Kurt said. “We’ll find some more tomorrow.”
“Are you sure?” Blaine asked. I don’t want to eat the other’s food.
“It’s not theirs, it’s yours,” Kurt answered. “I picked them for you.”
Blaine’s eyes lit again. “You did?” The he eyed the fruit almost reverently. “No one has ever picked fruit for me before. In fact, no one but Uncle Togo paid me too much attention.”
Kurt chuckled. “This is hard to believe. You probably had tons of Hobbit ladies banging at your door, begging for your attention.”
“Hobbit ladies are not for me,” Blaine mumbled, eyes glued to the ground, taking a huge bite of the fruit.”Ladies in general are not for me. I usually don’t feel comfortable around them, and they don’t seem to understand me too much. The human ones are even more complicated.”
They sat side by side, backs resting on a huge tree.
“What about you?” Blaine asked. “All the men we are traveling with are married and have families, even your father. Why are you going to Valinor alone?”
“Elven Ladies don’t understand me. And the human ones are even more complicated,” Kurt said, imitating Blaine’s tone.
“Are you mocking me?” Blaine asked, frowning.
“Not at all!” Kurt hurried to explain. “It is just another thing I believe we have in common, Blaine.”
“What do you mean? What could we possibly have in common,Kurt? I’m just a clumsy Hobbit, and you are…you are perfect!” Blaine said, blushing.
“I am far from perfect, Blaine. The Elves’ beauty is overrated. If you are an Elf, this is all you hear from everyone you meet. There are other kinds of beauty, believe me; I’ve lived long enough to know that, as sure as the sun will come out tomorrow. And you… you are beautiful, Blaine,” Kurt murmured. “You are always smiling, even though you have been through really rough times. It is very hard to find someone like that.”
Blaine’s heart started to beat fast, and his stomach gave flip-flops again. “Beautiful? I - I am no such thing, Kurt,” he said, suddenly getting up. “It is not good to fool myself into thinking that I am like everybody else.”
“You are not,” Kurt said, sincerely. “That is what makes you unique. That is why you are a beautiful creature, who deserves to be happy. I hope you find what you are looking for, someday, and also, that you find someone to share your life with.”
Blaine didn’t say anything for a while. How could he? He wanted to say to Kurt that he had already found what he was looking for and yes, it was Kurt himself. He had completely fallen for the elf, but he would never tell him that, of course. First, because Kurt was an Elf, and Blaine was a… no one. Second, he was sure Kurt would say Blaine was only impressed by the Elf’s beauty, since they had met only a few days ago.
Kurt was the most perfect creature Blaine had ever seen, so yes, Blaine Anderson, from The Marish, across the Brandywine River, was very impressed by Kurt Hummel’s beauty. But it was not only that. Being with Kurt made Blaine feel like home and that was an alien feeling for him. He had never, in his whole life, felt at peace, like the way he did when the Elf was around. So, of course, Kurt would never return his feelings. But Blaine would be happy to be Kurt’s friend forever, if that meant he could keep seeing him always.
But Kurt was leaving Middle-Earth.
“What about you?” Blaine finally asked, sitting down beside Kurt again. “What are you looking for? Why are your eyes always so sad? Is this because you are leaving? Do you not want to leave?”
Kurt laughed a little. “So many questions…!” He looked at Blaine with amused ayes, but suddenly, something changed, and he grew serious. “Elves are melancholic creatures, it has always been like that,” Kurt said, evading Blaine’s question. “When you see too much of this world, you get a little… tired. Like you have already seen all there is to see. As for wanting to leave… It is not really a choice, it is more like a call. But I think I will miss Middle-Earth very much when I’m gone.”
“Then don’t go!” Blaine said on an impulse.
“Oh.” Kurt blushed, looking to the ground. Then he sighed, closing his eyes for a second. “Blaine… there is nothing for me here now. All the elves are leaving to Valinor; It is only natural that I go. It is the next step in the life of an Elf.”
“You said you feel we were alike…” Blaine blurted out. “Because you feel like…you don’t belong with them. Just like I feel about the Hobbits. So I don’t understand…Why do you have to go and live with the elves forever if you feel it’s not your place?”
“There is nothing for me here,” Kurt repeated, sadly. “Valinor is the only option I have of ever finding some peace.”
“I don’t understand,” Blaine insisted. “I left my village because I didn’t fit in. Why do you go willingly to somewhere you don’t - “ Blaine stopped in mid-sentence, looking at the pure sadness in Kurt’s eyes. The last thing he wanted was to distress the elf being too insistent, too nosy. “I - I am sorry,” he stuttered. “It is not my place to - “ He sighed. “I know the elves were nothing but kind with you, unlike the people I met back home. I am going back to sleep. Please forgive me.”
“You have no idea how brave you are. Leaving everything you know behind was a very brave thing to do. Perhaps…” Kurt said, avoiding Blaine’s eyes, but putting a hand on his shoulder to stop him from getting up. “Perhaps I am not so brave.”
“I don’t believe that.” Blaine said vehemently. “You are perfect, and it is not only because you are beautiful. You are kind, Kurt. You helped me, a complete stranger, when no one wanted to. You are brave, because all the men talk about you, and they say great things. Your father is very proud of you. So don’t try to change my mind about this. You are a perfect creature, and that is my final word.”
Kurt smiled, amused by Blaine’s speech, but also touched. “Hannon le,” (thank you) he said.
“What does it mean?” Blaine asked, curious.
“It means ‘thank you’, Blaine,” Kurt answered.
“Can I ask you something?” Blaine said on an impulse.
“Of course; you can ask me anything.”
Blaine took a deep breath. “Don’t walk so ahead of us tomorrow. And all the other days. I feel sad when - I mean, the men feel sad when you are not around.”
“Oh?” Kurt raised an eyebrow. “I thought they didn’t mind.”
“Well, if they don’t, I do,” Blaine said hurriedly, before his courage left him. “I mean, they - they don’t pay me much attention. I don’t think they like me very much.”
Kurt shook his head. “It is impossible not to like you.”
“It is?” Blaine asked, caramel eyes wide.
Kurt widened his eyes too, like he had just realized what he had said. “I mean - well, you… you - “
“If you don’t mind my company, we could walk together?” Blaine said in a rush. “You could teach me a few words in Elvish and - that is, if I am not annoying you and - “
“Not at all!” Kurt exclaimed, looking very embarrassed all of a sudden. I would love to teach you Elvish and I - I like your company.”
“Really?” Blaine’s whole face lit up in a big smile he couldn’t control.
“Really,” Kurt answered, but suddenly got up, looking everywhere. “I - I need to go find - I need to keep guard. You need to sleep. Goodnight Blaine!”
Not even Kurt’s sudden departure too the foolish grin off Blaine’s face.
-----
They spent the next few days like this: Kurt and Blaine walking side by side, talking and laughing about the silly and funny things Blaine always said. Kurt taught him a few words in Elvish, and Blaine was a fast learner, which pleased Kurt very much. Ha had not been able to teach Elvish neither to his father, nor to his brother. It was not that they were stupid; it just meant that Blaine had a natural talent for learning.
“Do you have many books? Blaine would ask, eyes dreaming. “Uncle Togo had a few, but I have read most of them too fast, and soon there was nothing left for me to read.”
“I left all my books in Lothlórien,” Kurt would say, but then remember that he would not go back, and keep quiet for a few seconds, thinking. Until something Blaine said would make him laugh again.
The days were hot, but the nights were cold. After dinner - which Blaine would always cook, happy to be useful - the men would sit by the fire and tell stories until sleep overtook them. Blaine always had something funny to tell, and he felt that, bit by bit, the rangers were starting not only to tolerate him, but to really like him.
Sometimes he would catch Kurt’s eyes across the fire, and the intensity of the Elf’s gaze on him would make him completely forget what he was saying. Burt and Finn would look at him knowingly, then one of them would pat his back, and Blaine would remember how to breathe again.
After everyone was asleep, Kurt would open his bag and give Blaine the fruit he had collected for him earlier. They would walk together to a tree a little bit away from the sleeping man, sit side by side and talk about anything and everything. Then Blaine would yawn, Kurt would smile and tell him to go to sleep.
Once in a while one of the men stayed awake at night, guarding the camp, so Kurt could rest a little. He would spread his bedroll beside Burt and Finn, because he always did so when they traveled together.
“Come here, Blaine, sit with me by the fire,” Puck said one night when he was on guard “I can see you’re not asleep so if you don’t mind, sing me a song from the Shire. Kurt said your voice is very good.”
Blaine nodded and went happily. Anything so he wouldn’t miss Kurt’s company tonight. He understood that the Elf needed to spend some time with his father and brother, since he was going away forever and - he shook his head to send the unpleasant thought away.
“What’s wrong?” Puck asked.
“Nothing,” Blaine answered hurriedly. “I can sing you something from The Marish, where I come from.”
A few meters away, Kurt watched Blaine singing, trying to stay very quiet on the bedroll. Blaine had the most beautiful voice; strong, yet melodious, each note echoing wonderfully in the silent night.
“You like him, don’t you?”
Kurt startled, looking up. Burt was sitting beside him, rubbing his eyes sleepily.
“Yes, he is a good friend.”
“I don’t mean like that,” Burt said. “You were staring at him, and there was longing in your eyes, Kurt.”
“I don’t know what you are talking about,” Kurt tried to avoid the subject as best as he could.
“Yes, you do,” Burt said. “Look, if you like him, why don’t you - “
“Father, please!” Kurt said, exasperated.
“What? There is nothing wrong with you two staying together! I know how lonely you are, Kurt. And I am not blind; I can see the way Blaine looks at you. He is a good lad, if a bit noisy.”
“In case you have forgotten, I am leaving.”
“Look, son, I know I don’t have a say in this. It is your life and you are a grown-up. But are you sure you have to leave?”
“Yes, I am,” Kurt answered sadly. “Of all the things I could have… inherited from my Elven blood…” Kurt sighed, “This longing for the sea is definitely one of them. I know you don’t understand, Father. But once the longing for Valinor starts, an Elf must sail. Or the longing will consume him. If I don’t go, I will turn into a bitter and sad creature, and this is something I cannot allow to happen.”
“What about Blaine?”
Kurt looked at the smiling Hobbit, across the camp. “He will stay. That is why I can’t - “
“I know,” Burt said. “This is about the ‘bonding’ thing, isn’t it? If you start something… you will not be able to leave him.”
“That is true. I only wish… that I could be certain that he will be safe. He has nowhere else to go.”
“I can’t promise I will take care of him, but I can take him with me to the village.”
“I don’t know, Father. A men’s village…?”
“Or you could change your mind and stay.”
“That is not an option.”
“Kurt…” Burt sighed when his son looked away from him, determined. “Alright, I know. But you are aiming for a broken heart, whether you stay or go.”
“There is nothing I can do about it.” I already feel my heart being torn in two, Kurt thought.