Prompt Post 14
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Guidelines ( Read more... )
THIS PROMPT POST IS NOW FROZEN. NO NEW PROMPTS ALLOWED, though there still can be fills!! This will hold for AT LEAST 72 hours.
PLEASE BE ON THE LOOK OUT FOR AN UPCOMING MOD POST. It's really important regarding the future of hobbit-kink. Thanks!
Guidelines ( Read more... )
“Tauriel?”
Tauriel’s busy. Her bowstring snapped this afternoon, right in the middle of a spider hunt, leaving her vulnerable and, oh, completely open to the shequeen bearing down on her from behind. The only reason she’s not high up in the branches right now, wrapped in webbing and waiting for the dinner table, is her Greenwood prince: he saved her, sending a shaft lancing straight through the beast’s gullet, and she’d just watched, pathetic and civilian, as it writhed and keened to its death, useless bow in hand. So now she’s restringing, carefully and methodically, and she really doesn’t want anybody asking foolish questions and-
“Tauriel? Are you listening to me?”
The blunt answer is no, but Legolas is looking at her with a peculiar expression in his eyes, one she can’t quite place. She says, “I am now. What is it ( ... )
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They’re feasting, tables groaning with the best the kitchens have to offer, and Tauriel’s plate is piled high with the particular chestnut fancies she could eat all day. It’s a celebration, a celebration of life and victory and love. Wine flows and laughter rings through the Greenwood.
Tauriel eyes Legolas with suspicion. They’re sitting together on one of the tables reserved for the guard: Legolas left high table hours ago, about when his father started calling for the dancing bears to be brought in, despite the fact that the Greenwood has no dancing bears, because I’m the king and I get what I want! Now, they’re side by side with their comrades, thigh pressed close to thigh, and Legolas’ hand is warm on her back ( ... )
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It’s been six months since the Battle of Five Armies, six months since Tauriel stood among the ruin of so many bodies and just couldn’t stop shaking, six months since she saw the dwarf and his nephews crowned in state on the mountains of golden treasure. Six months since the slaughter, six months since the celebration. Six months of Thranduil making tentative yet somehow still haughty advances towards the Mountain, six months of silence in return.
Or, almost six months of silence. The message crossed their borders a week ago: we accept your invitation. Nothing else ( ... )
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When they’re halfway to the grand hall (neatly bypassing the cells, Tauriel notices with a smile), Kili drops back, falls into step with her. Or tries to, but seeing as his legs are so much shorter she finds herself taking pity and instead falling into step with him. He looks up at her wryly, says, “Thanks for that. And for before.”
She cocks her head. “You don’t have to thank me,” she says. “Saving my life was enough.”
“I want to,” Kili says, then corrects himself: “We want to.” His gaze flickers almost unconsciously to his brother, deep in conversation with Thranduil. “Any way we can. We ( ... )
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