Thorin:

POV: Thorin

The sky is a gloomy grey, the clouds sifting across it like lazy mashed potatoes floating through the old gravy. Strange, as the sky yesterday was the most marvelous of blues, so lovely that you remarked to him just how much you were enjoying that day. Despite the endless trekking across stiff tundra, low rations, and Gandalf's troubling absence, you still managed to be cheered by such a simple thing as a blue sky. Your optimism is rather admirable, a half-focused Thorin decides to himself. And speaking- well, thinking -of you, he feels a familiar tap on his shoulder and turns around to see you and a stranger, holding hands.

You are beaming, both full eyes creased with joy, whereas the stranger boasts a gleaming smirk, and Thorin feels a sharp chill run along his spine. "I need to tell you something," you announce cheerfully as the sky fades from grey to orange within a matter of seconds. Taking no time to wonder about that peculiar shift in color above, Thorin readily agrees to hear you out, and as you reply that you're in love with this strange man and are going to marry him, the stranger's face morphs into the horrid head Azog the Defiler.

"I won."

Rain begins to stream over Thorin's face despite the skies still being clear, and he lunges for the Azog-thing, drawing his fierce cry, the rage within him too powerful to hold back.

"Thorin? Thorin, please get up, it's starting to rain and we've got to find shelter for the rest of the night." Thorin's eyes snap open. Above him leans you, looking down at him with a curious expression as you hold your cloak over him in the kind gesture of a makeshift rain cover. Blinking away his vivid dream, he sits up and nods, collecting himself as you look behind yourself (with your now-familiar one eye) to answer a question from Nori. 

"Yes, bring the laundry, take everything that should remain dry first." A pause as you listen to his reply, during which Thorin takes the opportunity to examine you in full. Has your hair always had those lighter streaks? Have you always cinched your belt like that, as if to accentuate your hips? 

"Yes, pack the food, why didn't anyone do that after supper?" Giving a sigh, you turn back to Thorin, who's now intently studying his bedroll as he rolls it up. 

"We passed a cave on the way here, or so Bilbo says, and I'm rather inclined to believe him. Shall we?" He takes your offered hand and stands, then neatly tucks everything around him into the folds of a coarse blanket as he tries to shake away the unease his dream has left him with, but it weighs like a heavy vice upon his heart. Has your hand always fit so well into his? Why hasn't he noticed these things about you before?

"Are you alright?" 

"Why would I be otherwise?" You seem taken aback by his swift, defensive reply, and so he mutters to make up for the edge in his voice, "Merely a cruel dream." Apparently assuaged, you nod understandingly and look like you're about to respond with some emphatic anecdote, but just then, the heavens open up and you forgo your words to sprint beside Thorin into the shelter of the cave now just a short distance ahead.

Why does he feel his heart now quicken as he looks at you?

Your Current Impression of Him (YCIOH): Bad dreams come to us all, and you feel great sympathy for Thorin for having suffered whatever he had- clearly, it's affected him, as you've never seen him so unsteady except for the moment he locked eyes with Azog the Defiler through the flames that one night. Perhaps that monster was what has unnerved him so, but you're not about to ask- if he wants to tell you of his dream, he will.

His Current Impression of You (HCIOY): There will be no more sleep for him tonight, he has too much to ruminate on. It has been his silent battle for weeks, but this nightmare has convinced him firmly of just how much he truly cares for you. Not too long ago, he would have promptly scorned the idea of a union between hobbit and dwarf, but due to recent emotional developments, his opinion on the matter has become quite the opposite. These feelings have been stewing for nearly a month, he admits to himself now as he gazes upon your sleeping form with a tender smile, it's only as of tonight that he's let himself truly feel them.

Fili:

POV: Fili

In an attempt to soothe the Company's orc-threatened nerves, Kili and Fili have begun a game of sorts around the campfire as the group eats supper. It's a few rounds in and so far, Balin has revealed his soft spot for kittens, Ori has stolen Bofur's hat and is now wearing it, and Thorin has hit a dead bullseye with a throwing dagger in the notch of a tree fifty feet away- while blindfolded -just to name a few of the best moments. It is currently Nori's turn, and as his friends laugh good-naturedly at how he's 'standing' on his head, he picks you from the bunch: 

"Mhede- verity or venture?" You tilt your head, considering for a moment, then reply that you'll tell a truth. Nori shoots a glance at Fili that you definitely catch, but lucky for him, you don't seem to understand. 

"Who, out of all of us, do you consider to be the best warrior?" You give a low whistle as the laughter around you dwindles. Fili metaphorically crosses his fingers. 

After a long beat, you answer with a decisive nod, "Thorin." 

Although he's disappointed, Fili understands- whether or not you look at it in a biased view, Thorin is the most-seasoned and multi-faceted fighter in the Company. As murmurs of agreement and quips pass around the campfire, you study your companions and your gaze skips right over Fili to land on Kili. The elder of Thorin's nephews feels a flare of jealousy catch within him and he grimaces at the uncomfortable feeling. He knows you and his brother get along well most of the time (see: How Embarrassing for the major exception), but is there more than meets the eye here? 

So absorbed in his sunken thoughts, he misses your question to Kili and only catches: "-and in this instance, you cannot reply yourself." A ripple of laughter goes around and Kili grins at you, worrying Fili further by the glimmer in his eye. 

"Why must you make this unfair? Very well. Fili is, next to myself, the most handsome dwarf here." Some joking protests erupt, but Fili takes no notice and only offers a tense smile at his brother, trying to ignore the sour fears creeping through his mind. "What is your opinion, Mhede?" adds Kili after a moment, and by the swift glance he gives Fili, the latter realizes he's not doing a good job at hiding his discomfort. 

Your cheeks flush a little and you reply, "I just went, and you did not even ask me 'verity or venture'!" 

With a clever grin, Kili shoots back, "I created the game and so I say it is your turn again. Still, you are right, and so I will ask you: verity of venture?" 

"Venture," is your prompt reply, and Fili gets the feeling you're trying to avoid Kili's question. 

His curiosity is peaked and he tunes fully back in as his brother triumphantly replies, "I challenge you to tell us all who is better-looking: Fili or myself?"

 As you blink and glance around, reluctant to admit you've been finagled as such, the Company hoots like boys at Kili's simple yet effective trick and Fili leans forward, his eyes locked on you as he waits impatiently for your answer. He now understands the meaning of the look Kili conveyed to him a moment prior- your response will prove (hopefully) your preference towards one of them. Fili's heartbeat speeds up as you motion for your excited friends to quiet down so you can speak.

Your gaze lands on Fili's, who is still staring at you intently, and you reply, not once looking aside, "Fili." 

More teasing calls from the others, but as you tear your eyes away to wave them off and continue the game, the dwarf in question leans back against the tree stumps behind him, greatly enthused by your response. 

YCIOH: Kili really put you on the spot there, but by observing the smile now on Fili's face, you can see you did the right thing by revealing your true opinion. Besides- it's about time you started hinting at your affections for him, considering how you're fairly certain of his own for you.

HCIOY: Although he's taken into account that it was a 50/50 question, the way you looked at him just then, speaking in that soft tone and blushing, makes his heart leap with hope. Could you really- but no, he doesn't want to assume too much. Then again, your cheeks really are crimson...

Kili:

POV: You

You turn around to see a steaming Thorin Oakenshield, fists clenched and teeth as he storms at you. Kili appears near to your left just as Thorin reaches you and opens his mouth, probably to yell at you and order you to get out of his mountain, as usual. Isn't this just a splendid situation?

Thorin raises his hand sharply, eyes flashing, and you brace yourself for his incoming tirade. "If I had no need-" 

"Thorin!" Bilbo Baggins waves his arms wildly, distracting the King Under the Mountain, and you mentally thank your hobbit friend profusely as he quickly adds, keeping Thorin's attention, "I believe I've found something." Immediately, the dwarven king drops his verbal assault on you to hasten over to Bilbo, who's busily rummaging through a pile of shiny, white-ish stones of all different sizes, and you breathe a sigh of relief.

Thinking it best for you to lay low for a few hours, you back away and head up a flight of stairs to the narrow corridor where you've been retreating the last few days when you need a moment to think. From the familiar footsteps behind you, you aren't alone, and as you take a seat on the weathered bench beside the doorway, Kili appears, frowning. "I should have been more careful." He turns and sees you, having been scanning the rest of the hallway to discern where you'd gone, and presses his lips together thinly as he sits beside you. 

"My uncle will seize every chance he is offered to criminalize and banish you." It remains unspoken, but you can tell he agrees yet doesn't wish to wound your pride- you should have paid better attention to where you were stepping.

Gazing up at the chipped ceiling, the notion of amazement at how such a kingdom could be carved out of stone crosses your mind before a memory of your early adulthood takes its place. "If only Távion were here. He always knows just what to say." 

Beside you, Kili visibly tenses up and you realize with a blush that he's been offended by your wish, probably thinking you'd rather have Távion here instead of him. Your breath catches in your throat and as you quickly try to decide what to say, you lay your hand on his arm- but he moves, practically nudging off your gesture. It seems he's more put off than you guessed.

"Távion is an elf who once courted me." Kili looks about ready to throw hands, though the only way you can tell is his stiff inhale and exhale, as his expression is one of stony indifference. You let out a rueful chuckle as you go on, remembering the good times you've had with Távion, 

"However, barely a week passed before we both realized we were not meant for each other in that way and would be better off as friends." You nudge your shoulder against Kili's and he finally turns to look at you, the hint of a smile tugging at his lips. 

"He is still my best friend to this day. And-" You lean your head a little to the side as he starts to look away again and raise your eyebrows in an almost-teasing manner. "-he has been happily married for the last fifty-odd years." 

Finally, a small smile- but a smile, nonetheless -creeps onto Kili's face as he gazes at you. The rising feelings in the seconds of silence between you grow nearly palpable and he moves a little closer, appearing like he's about to say something, something you hope for and yet fear- 

"Kili? Tirnethêl? Are you over here?" You sit up straighter immediately, and Kili does the same after a beat, clearly reluctant to, the moment fizzling out as Ori practically sprints into the room. He takes a pause to catch his breath, then relays his message: "Thorin requests- well, really, demands -that everyone return to searching for the Arkenstone immediately." 

You make a vague gesture to yourself as you rise from the bench, Kili following suit, and Ori nods understandingly. "That includes you, Tirnethêl." Breathing a sigh of relief for the second time in the last ten minutes, you move to follow Ori back to the grand treasure hall, Kili staying behind for a moment as he mutters something about gathering his thoughts.

YCIOH: He hasn't exactly been subtle with his romantic interest in you, and sometimes, it frightens you, like just now-his reaction to your mention of Távion was clearly one of jealousy. You could barely find your words in that instance, and as you turn the corner to where Kili can't see you from the side corridor, your hands begin to shake. All of these feelings- they've been crashing over you so powerfully and fast at such spontaneous moments that you've begun to feel anxious any time Kili is near. How you wish you knew what to do...

HCIOY: The idea of another person courting you has put him on edge, and although your explanation of your and this Távion's short-lived relationship has relieved him, he still feels a weight on his chest. Just a minute ago, he'd felt it lift when he leapt to tell you of his love, and as he collects his nerves, he realizes with slight dread that this heaviness is his need to know- know that you understand his feelings, if you return them, what he should do about Thorin's prejudices -and if he doesn't do something about at least one of these, this weight will likely overwhelm him.

Bilbo:

POV: You

"Bofur, have you ever seen stars like?" 

Beside you, leaning up against Bombur's back, your dwarven friend winks at you and nods, replying in a voice louder than necessary, "Yes, lass, but only those on the edge." 

"What edge?" you asked intentionally lean against his shoulder as he points out vague constellations on the horizon. "They are quite beautiful. I hope one day soon we can hike to the summit of Erebor and see them from there." 

"Aye, Aili, they're fair enough, though not as pretty as you." You blush, a little surprised by how earnest the compliment was, and turn to look at the sky behind you, Bofur muttering random words beside you as he gestures to the sky.

"Is he..." 

"Oh, he's staring, alright," whispers back your brother Fili with a grin as Kili raises his eyebrows at you teasingly. Half of a smile appears on your face and you turn back around, Bofur following your lead. It takes a good amount of your willpower not to immediately look at Bilbo, but you give it a few seconds before turning your eyes to where he's sitting on the other side of the rampart- but he's no longer there. 

"Aili." You nearly flinch with surprise when he speaks and you realize he approached from your other side when you glanced away. With your smile growing wider on your face, you look to Bilbo as he swiftly plops down between you and Bofur, asking you about your day, the scenery, your opinion on onion soup, and so on without letting Bofur get a word in edgewise except for "Goodnight" after roughly a half-hour.

Almost immediately following Bofur's retreat to bed, the hobbit ends his rambling and catches his breath as you gaze at him with a small smile, musing to yourself. 

"Aili?" 

"Mhmm?" 

"Are... Are the constellations important to you?" You give a short breath of laughter at his not-so-subtle question of your feelings for Bofur and shake your head as he frowns.

"They are splendid, yes, but surely they are a thousand times lovelier in the Shire." Bilbo's jaw drops a good inch and you teasingly place a finger under his chin to nudge it back up before bidding him a quiet goodnight.

YCIOH: The plan went off without a hitch, and as you draw your rough blanket over you in bed, you feel quite giddy. Without explicitly saying so, he affirmed your suspicions and you communicated back your own feelings through a fairly straightforward metaphor. Hopefully, he understands what your response met, and by his reaction, you're almost certain he did.

HCIOY: Woah. Did you really- could you mean- what should he- With a shaky sigh, he curls up tighter on his bedroll, his mind racing a mile a minute. He feels like he finally knows how you see him, and the thought thrills him, but doubt still tugs at his conscience. He knows soon he'll have to say something and take the next step, but as to what that step is and how he should propose it is unclear to him.

Legolas:

POV: You

This day dawns fair and bright, just as it has the last two mornings, and you rise in a good mood. As the Fellowship sets out on the trail once more, you fall into step with Legolas and strike up a lively conversation- that is, after you tug a few stray brambles off his cloak from his run-in with that bush yesterday. The sun's ascent passes quickly to you as you and Legolas alternate between chatting and walking in companionable silence, and before you're even hungry again, Aragorn calls to make camp for lunch. As you unpack a piece of Lembas from the loaf your fond elven friend gave you a week ago, you have a laugh with Merry and Pippin over a grouping of knots in a tree that resembles a face with a thick mustache.

"Firiel, would you gather firewood?"

You grin at Aragorn and salute him in good humor. "Gladly."

You give a slight wave of temporary parting to your fellow hobbits and Legolas and head for a deeper part of the forest, but pause by Aragorn and mutter, "Do you suppose someone should come with me? Seeing as I have..." Wordlessly finishing your question with a gesture to the chain around your neck, you notice Legolas' gaze has turned to you and he's now frowning just a little. Of course- his elven hearing is certainly strong enough for him to hear you, and you hold back a wince. Although you know your life is constantly in danger nowadays, you don't want anyone to worry over you, but it seems it's too late for that. Aragorn gestures to Boromir, who nods in understanding and follows you up a hill over which you can see a few dead trees. There should be some good firewood there.

Humming to yourself, you glance back and the nameless tune dies on your lips as you see Legolas staring at you, his expression unreadable, as Aragorn holds his arm as if keeping him back. You raise your hand in a still wave to your elven friend and he returns the gesture but not the smile you offer. Odd.

Little do either of you know, this is the last time you will see each other for a long time.

YCIOH: You reckon his solemn expression must be for an important reason, but you don't dwell on it for too long. You can ask him about it when you return, which will likely only be in a few minutes. Besides, if it was dire, he would come after you, right? Your thoughts drift to other things as you pick up dead twigs and sticks, and you don't notice Boromir's yearning glare until he lunges for the One Ring around your neck...

HCIOY: He shakes his head at himself as he sits back down beside Merry and Pippin, chagrined at the jealousy that seized his heart just then. How Aragorn sent forth Boromir and not him conjured up feelings the elf prince hasn't felt for centuries, emotions of boyish frustration and the sting of childhood injustices. And of all people, Boromir is the least likely to catch your fancy, he reassures himself, you told him so yourself- and yet, as his rash jealousy fades, a sense of foreboding emerges as an underlying instigator. He rises, hand on his bow, and Aragorn narrows his eyes, following suit with his hand on the hilt of his blade.

Something here is amiss.

Thranduil:

POV: Thranduil

Sleep has not come easy these past few evenings to Thranduil. Although his days are busy, when the sun sets, his mind is free to wander- and to doubt. He's finally come to the conclusion, after three straight nights of minimal rest, that all of the things he's come to love you for trump that one instance of him not knowing you can sing, but tonight, another dilemma plagues his thoughts: could his close-knit friendship be what's halting any romantic advancements between you? He paces his balcony, hands clasped behind his back, the clouds shrouding the moon casting a surreal haze of shadowy light over the kingdom. Jealousy grows in his heart, although he knows it doesn't make much sense to be envious of himself.

A light appears in the window just over the bend of a peculiarly-wavy tree- your room, as Thranduil knows well -and he pauses as your familiar silhouette appears behind the thin curtain. A few moments pass and you step away, the flickering light of the lantern in your hand fading as you walk from the window. Thranduil assumes you've gone back to bed and resumes his pacing, but a few minutes later, he hears the door to his chambers swing carefully open and turns to see you entering with a concerned expression. A slight smile curls up his lips as he takes note that you just walked right on in- he takes this as a good sign that you're that comfortable with him -in nothing but a night shift, your hair falling loosely around your face. Wordlessly, you place the lantern on his desk, then walk to him and envelop him in a hug. 

A single tear pricks at Thranduil's eye as he wraps his arms around you in return, but he blinks it away, the reason for his restlessness tonight clearing up in his mind. When you step back after a long moment, you study his gaze and correctly discern that he wants you to stay, so you turn to silently observe the view from the balcony, still at his side. He risks putting an arm around your waist, and it pays off, as you then step closer and lean your head on his shoulder. His breathing falls into sync with yours and he closes his eyes, savoring the moment, as his worries melt away.

YCIOH: You've noticed the new bags under his eyes that have formed this past week and so when you saw him pacing on the balcony, you just knew you needed to offer him a comforting presence. Now, as you relish the feeling of his arm around you and the girlish butterflies in your chest, you can tell you've put his mind at least a little more at ease, and your heart warms at your success.

HCIOY: The turmoil in his thoughts has now run its course, and he stands here with you feeling calmed and clear-minded. The friendship he shares with you is no obstacle, but a path to love, a warmly-lit corridor with an open door at the end. All he needs now is to make his move- and he's starting to feel the pieces clicking into place...

Lindir:

POV: Lindir

Something seems off with you today. You haven't turned the page of your book in ten minutes- okay, maybe he's been staring a bit, but that's beside the point -and the smile you offered him when you arrived (late) to the library was smaller and shorter than usual. Just as he's about to ask if you're feeling alright, a courier appears and hands you a bouquet of lilies and a note on pink stationery. Lindir tenses up- what's this? A gift from a courter? Jealousy runs through him and he asks, tapping his foot impatiently, "What is that for?" You glance up from the note with tears in your eyes and Lindir's heart just about stops, highly regretting his rather-sharp tone.

"The flowers are from my father, as is the note. Today is the anniversary of my mother's death-" Your voice chokes up and he moves to awkwardly pat you on the back, the shame rising in bringing the taste of bile into his mouth. "Her favorite flowers were lilies, and her favorite color was pink." Lindir feels fairly sick at himself- how dare he feel jealous at a moment like this! -and he swears silently to you and himself that he'll make it up to you however he can today.

YCIOH: The rest of the day, Lindir treats you like a precious porcelain doll- which you don't fully mind but are a little confused by -and it's only as you try to fall asleep that night that you realize with a start: he thought the lilies and note were from a courter or the likes of such! No wonder he was so careful with you today- he wasn't just sympathetic about your mother's death, he must have felt (and probably still feels) horrible about his assumption.

HCIOY: At the end of the day, he barely feels any better and, right after retiring for the evening, he throws up in the toilet in his chambers. For the first time in centuries, he cries himself to sleep, hoping that in the morning he'll be able to forgive himself for his heartless mistake.

Elrond:

POV: Elrond

Yet another evening has passed on which you've skipped out on supper, and as Elrond gestures for his servants to clean up the food, candles, and flowers, he leans his chin into his hand. All week, it feels like you've been avoiding him, spending practically every waking moment up in your astronomy tower, poring over your diagrams, maps, and books. You've slept all day and worked all night for the past six days, and Elrond's starting to worry over your health. He rises after pitying himself for a moment and takes a bowl of salad (all the hot food has gone cold) to deliver to you. 

Half-deliberately, he slows his walking speed as his thoughts draw him in. He supposes it's foolish to feel envious toward the very thing that brought you into his life; nevertheless, the seed of hurt in his heart blooms into jealousy, and when he arrives at the spiral staircase leading up to your terrace workspace, he's decided to give you a piece of his mind for ignoring him the last six days. Just as he starts up the first step, salad bowl clutched stiffly in his hands, the trapdoor at the top swings open with a bang and he pauses. "Lindir, is that you?" (Elrond's right-hand man has been bringing you three meals a day as of late.) "Would you send for Elrond, please? It's urgent."

Some of his envy fades into concern and the king of Imladris calls up, "Are you alright, Tiram?" Your face appears in the gap in the floor, your hair falling around you like a curtain, and a grin breaks across your expression.

"Oh, it's you! Fantastic! Come quickly, now." You lean back up and Elrond tries to remember why he felt like scolding you a minute ago, but when he cannot find a valid reason, he proceeds up the stairs and then the short ladder with a quick step. It has been a good month since Elrond was last up here, and he's quite astonished by how the papers once stored in tidy boxes seem to have multiplied and scattered by the thousands. In the center of the chaos stands your telescope, its eyepiece clearly weathered from use, half-propped-up by two crates and a large stone where one of its three legs has snapped off.

"If you'd have let me know this was broken, I could have-" Elrond's mildly-disgruntled remark is cut off by you taking his hand and pulling him over to your desk.

"Don't you see?" Your tone is so enthusiastic that of course he scans over the diagrams, placing the bowl of salad on an empty file folder- but something seems to be missing.

"Is this supposed to be-"

"A full shape? Come look." Another tug at his arm and he finds himself kneeling at your telescope as you stare at your watch. A good five minutes pass by and just as Elrond's knees start to ache, you raise your hand and gesture excitedly for him to look through the lens. Sure enough, the lines of stars fit exactly into the pattern in your notes, and the elven king leans back and looks at you, truly awed.

"Does this mean-"

"A complete map of all the constellations, as seen from Imladris year-round! Aqua tehtar i loacasta mi eleni!" He stands, his wide smile now matching your own, and reach to offer a congratulatory handshake- but you envelop him in a hug instead. 

"And it's all thanks to you."

Elrond's heart skips a beat and he leans his chin into your hair as he returns the hug, mentally scolding himself and- instead of jealous -feeling ever-so-grateful for your love of the stars.

(Translation "Tehtar i loacasta mi eleni!" means "Fully written marks of the seasons of stars!" in Quenya.)

YCIOH: Finally, you've done it! Your biggest work goal so far is completed, and now, for a well-earned break which you hope to spend most of with Elrond.

HCIOY: Seeing the joy in your eyes at this accomplishment has reminded him of just how important this job is to you. He now no longer feels disappointed by your absence this past week, as this very moment is well worth the wait, but he still hopes times like these, when your work takes over your life, will be few and far apart.

Gimli:

POV: Gimli

Times have been tough as of late. Gimli can tell the disbandment of the Fellowship has been weighing on you more than you'll admit, and he wants to cheer you up- but how? It takes him a few days to come up with an idea, but one morning, he gathers you, Aragorn, and Legolas for a competition. The elf prince and your brother know why Gimli has planned this and so subtly go easy on you in most matches- on the other hand, they don't give their dwarven friend any leeway at all. Not that they have to give you much of an upper hand, anyway, your skills at most of these contests are genuinely hard to compete with. The results come out as follows:

Hand-to-hand sparring: You, Legolas, Aragorn, Gimli

Axe-throwing: Gimli, You, Legolas, Aragorn

Fencing: You, Legolas, Aragorn, Gimli

Long-jump: Legolas, You, Aragorn, Gimli

Arm-wrestling: Gimli, You, Aragorn, Legolas

Target shooting (with a bow): Legolas, You, Aragorn, Gimli

Wrestling: Gimli, Aragorn, You, Legolas

Card tricks: You, Aragorn (who taught you, but now the student has become the master), Legolas and Gimli have no experience here

Freestyle dancing (why not?): You and Legolas tie, but Gimli and Aragorn are hopeless

Historical quotes recitation: You, Legolas, Gimli, Aragorn

Skipping stones: You, Gimli, Legolas, Aragorn

By the time you voice your advice that you should all fetch Merry from the tavern where he's been eating all day and continue on your way to Gondor, Gimli can tell your spirits have much improved and congratulate himself on a job well done. However, he sort-of stews for the rest of the day because of how you were continually impressed by Legolas' suave skills and barely complemented his own wins in the contests. That evening, though, his jealousy disappears when he overhears you talking quietly to Aragorn about how great his axe-throwing and wrestling finesse is and how much you admire his strength.

YCIOH: You are very grateful for how he led the effort to put a spring back in your step, and you are amused by how he kept shooting little glares at Legolas all afternoon. You meant for him to hear your praise of him to Aragorn, but just because your words were played up for effect doesn't mean you don't mean them.

HCIOY: Physical strength, in dwarven culture, is one of the greatest contributors to a successful courtship (on both ends), so he takes your complements as a good sign.

Merry:

POV: Merry

"That doesn't even make any sense!"

"That's exactly what I told him! But did he listen?"

Together, you and Pippin agree, "No!" then fall into laughter for a moment before you start telling another story. A few yards ahead on the path, Merry readjusts his grip on his walking stick as he realizes he's been clutching its handle so tight, his knuckles are turning white. All morning, you had a long, somewhat-philosophical talk with him about the dangers of ale and how you both would never give it up anyway, but after lunch, you fell into step with Pippin and haven't said a word to Merry since. It hurts him a little to see you having such a great connection with another person, especially since it's his with his best friend. His jealousy weighs on him all afternoon and by the time the Fellowship sets up camp for the night, he feels like he has to talk to Pippin about this. 

"Pip." The hobbit in question grins and holds both his hands up in a defensive manner. 

"I know exactly what you're about to say, but you'll want to hear this first." Merry, without a second thought, gestures for him to go on. "I managed to get a bit of news from Kif while we were talking today, and I think it's really something!" Now with two hands, Merry impatiently waves at him to continue, and Pippin finishes triumphantly, "She said she thinks very highly of you and wishes to know you better, which I fully believe means she-"

"Really?"

"Yes, I'm near-sure she does-"

"But what about-" Merry's gaze falls to the ground, growing ashamed of himself even as he asks the question, "But what about how you and Kif were talking all afternoon?"

Pippin's smile fades and Merry, cheeks flushed, isn't sure whether to look up or not.

"I'd never, Merry," the now-serious Pippin swears, "even if she wanted to court me- and I'm sure she doesn't -I wouldn't do that to you. Not for all my life." Merry sighs and raises his head, his jealousy completely gone.

"I know, Pip. I can't believe I would even think-"

"I've got it! If I'm the best man, Boromir can be Kif's Maid of Honor!" Having been surreptitiously eavesdropping a few feet away, the Steward's son chokes on a sip of water in his surprise, causing Merry and Pippin to start laughing as all shame is forgotten.

Boromir then shoots back that he'd rather be a flower girl.

Further hysterics ensue.

YCIOH: Although you are unaware of Merry's passing jealousy, you can tell he felt at least a little put-off by your not speaking to him all afternoon. You hadn't done this on purpose, of course, you were just so caught up in bonding with Pippin that you neglected to invite him into the conversation. From here on out, you pledge to yourself, you'll do your best to include him as much as you can.

HCIOY: His love for you has toyed with his heart today, and he doesn't much like how overpowering his jealousy felt. Thinking back on it now as he eats supper, he realizes he was also walking right next to Frodo- the Ringbearer -all afternoon. Yes, that certainly had something to do with it- but now he begins to worry. If the One Ring's influence on him was that strong, how is it affecting Frodo?

Pippin:

POV: You

"M'lady, Lord Saelchanar just arrived at the mid-city gate." 

Literally jumping up out of your chair, you ask, wide-eyed, "Are you certain?" Rimdir, one of your old allies among your father's ever-watchful guard, nods gravely.

"Three reports have come through. I intercepted two, but the third reached the Steward." You mutter a curse under your breath and reach for Pippin's hand, but he pulls it away, frowning as though hurt. It takes you a moment, but then you realize he's mistaken your worried reaction as one of excitement. Of course- a lord, three messengers to announce him, your wide eyes as you hastily stood up- it's no wonder he came to such a conclusion. Asking Rimdir to delay Lord Saelchanar however possible, you turn back to Pippin.

"Lord Saelchanar is a pompous fool," you explain quickly, "who thinks he deserves to wed me and has pursued me for three straight years. It is almost laughable how such a senseless man has a name that means 'Wise Brother'. I loathe him, yet he is wealthy and of nobility, so my father hosts him against my wishes. Come with me, we must avoid him as long as we can." Apparently assuaged, Pippin takes your hand when you offer it again, and together, you hurry out the back hall of the library and up to the long-empty advisors' study.

"One of my father's shortcomings," you remark as you shut the heavy door with a little help from Pippin, "for the last eight years he's refused to have even one advisor. The good news is, however, that Lord Saelchanar is such an imbecile that he will not think to look for me here- he thinks no woman would willingly venture into a room of knowledge."

"Why did we leave the library, then?" Pippin asks, but you can tell your explanation of Lord Saelchanar's misogyny is not lost on him and for that, you are grateful.

"Because my father is wiser than the foolish lord," you reply with a grimace, "and he knows I enjoy spending time there, especially as of late." Pippin nods and is soon distracted by a dusty scroll on a desk that has clearly been nibbled at by rats, and so you while the afternoon away by telling Pippin what the life of a Gondorian advisor is like from what you've learned from your tutors.

YCIOH: You can't help but feel amused at his reaction to Lord Saelchanar's arrival. The wittiest fellow you've ever met, jealous of the dullest man in existence. What irony! On the other hand, the way he kept a close lookout on the journey to the advisors' study was quite sweet, you think. It's nice that he's looking out for you, even if he doesn't fully understand why.

HCIOY: When he first saw your reaction to the arrival of this 'Lord On-Sale-Lawnchair' he felt a wave of jealousy, but after you've explained your opinions of the man, he feels much better. That said, this has got him worrying- you're a young woman of nobility, surely there have been and/or will be suitors of equal status come to Minas Tirith to seek your hand in marriage, and the thought makes his heart sink. How would he compete with a man of wealth and prestige? All he can really do is hope no nobleman (or any other person) earns your heart before he does...

Sam:

POV: Sam

Sam rolls over, blinking his eyes open blearily as the woodpecker that woke him continues its assault on the headache he's had for about three days now. "'Morning, Nellie." No reply, and he fully opens his eyes to see you laying across the glade, wrapped up in Frodo's blanket and slumbering on Frodo's bedroll instead of right next to him as you always are. His mind clears as he sits up and Frodo himself shoos away the woodpecker, but the first emotion that crosses it is jealousy.

"Mister Frodo, why in the blue blazes is Magnolia-" 

Frodo motions for Sam to lower the volume of his voice as he cuts him off, "It isn't what you think, Sam, Nellie had a nightmare, and I-" 

"Don't you call her Nellie."

"Sorry?" Sam doesn't mean to glare as hard as he does now, but Frodo winces and he dials it back a bit.

"Only I call her Nellie. She's my Nellie." Frodo lets out an incredulous chuckle as Gollum comes splashing through the nearby stream with three fish for your collective breakfast (along with more Lembas, as always).

"You haven't said a thing like that to her yet, have you?" Sam remains silent as he stews in his jealousy, unwilling to answer the question verbally, but by not replying, he affirms Frodo's words. He hasn't said a word to you of his love, Frodo is right, but the truth of this only frustrates Sam further.

Frodo tries again, "She had a nightmare, Sam, and I was-"

"I don't want to know."

"You don't want to know what?" Both Sam and Frodo's gazes snap to your face as you sit up, wearing a puzzled expression, and Gollum rips a fish in two with his grisly teeth. Sam hesitates and Frodo jumps at the chance:

"Sam was wondering what your nightmare was about."

"Oh, it was horrible! Fire was everywhere, and the Shire was all ashes, and everyone I love was dead- come here, I need a hug just remembering it." The command is clearly directed at Sam, so of course, he goes over and kneels beside you, then wraps you in a warm hug. "I was so frightened, and when I woke it was so dark, but Frodo was awake too and he talked me out of my fear. I would have gotten you up, but you were sleeping so peacefully..." Sam's jealousy begins to dissipate as he holds you in his arms for a long moment more, and by the time you feel well enough to coax two of the fish from Gollum to cook, it has all but disappeared.

YCIOH: The first thing you heard this morning was a disgruntled "I don't want to know" from Sam and, being only half-awake at the moment, you'd accepted Frodo's explanation, but now, as you pack up bedroll alongside a peculiarly-silent Sam, you realize it doesn't add up. Your heart sinks- they must have been fighting over something before you woke, but what? Oh, you hope it wasn't you!

HCIOY: Although his jealousy is almost entirely gone, the memory of his and Frodo's fight is still fresh in his mind as the group resumes their journey toward Mordor. What his friend said about his lack of confession to you simultaneously stings and reminds him that the clock might be ticking away faster than he thinks. He knows the 'now-or-never' moment is approaching, but he's afraid he won't have the courage or the right words when that time comes...

Frodo:

POV: Frodo

These last few days of hiking through the remote brush have been completely uneventful, which seems to be a welcome break to you and Sam, but the One Ring has other ideas for Frodo. A seed of jealousy blooms in his chest, and although he initially fights it away, sensing the Ring's corruption, he soon lets it grow when it draws on his fears and the feelings he has for you. As the hours on the road weary Frodo's mind, he starts finding meaning in your and Sam's interactions that aren't really there.

When your fingers brush Sam's as you hand him a bowl of measly soup: a sign that you fancy him.

When you go back to help Sam up a steep incline in the middle of your and Frodo's conversation: another sign.

When you roll over "to get more comfortable" and fall asleep facing Sam's bedroll: add one more mark to Frodo's 'Proof That Osbiel Fancies Sam And Not Me" tally.

His jealousy begins to swell into anger when tonight, he sees you and Sam whispering to each other while he's busy sending Sméagol off to catch a rabbit or something for supper. When you catch his cold gaze, you give a start and he almost feels bad, but his Ring-fed jealousy buries that emotion as you get up and come over to him.

"Frodo... Sam and I have-"

"-started courting, I've realized." Your eyes widen and your exhale comes out as a huff of surprise.

"What? No, we have not. Why would you-" You paise, your mouth shaping into an 'o' of realization. Frodo finds it harder to meet your eyes as your gaze softens and you say, nodding your head gently, "So this is why you have seemed off the past four days. Sam and I took notice- that is what I was going to say before you cut me off as if you were accusing me of something." You take a step back, a frown coming upon your brow, and Frodo looks down, embarrassed by his behavior. 

"It is not as if you could accuse me of disloyalty, anyhow."

His gaze snaps back up as you tilt your head at him, expression unreadable. He swallows, unsure of how to reply, but then you extend your hand to him, your brow creasing again, but in a worried manner this time.

"It is the Ring, I am sure of it. Please, Frodo, just let me wear it for a few minutes at least, it may clear your mind-"

"No!" You take a step back, clearly startled by his harsh tone and the way he's just knocked your hand away from him. A beat of silence hangs heavy between you two, but then you drop your gaze and wordlessly walk back over to Sam, your head lowered a little more than when you came over.

YCIOH: You took a risk by assuming he returns your affections, and by his reaction, you're quite sure he actually does- your spirits would be high right now if not for how you've just realized the strength of the Ring's influence on him. You knew it affects him, but you didn't think it had grown this bad. As you cook the rabbit Sméagol's brought back in silence, you can't help but fear what may lie ahead for the four of you...

HCIOY: How could you try to take the Ring from him like that?! He's been fretting over this question for the last half-hour, but now, a new set of wonderings cross his mind: how did you know of his love? Do you really, or were you projecting affections of your own towards him through your disloyalty comment? And, most importantly, what does he do now?

Faramir:

POV: Faramir

Such time has passed since Faramir was first admitted to the critical care ward that he's healed enough to be moved to either the recovery ward or his chambers with a private nurse. He's considered his options and prefers the latter, but only if it is you who continues to care for him. He means to ask you about this today, but you peculiarly don't arrive at the hospital until late afternoon, when he's too drained from staying awake all day to wait for you to have a proper conversation. He has his eyes closed when he feels you sit on the end of his bed (he knows it's you because you're the only person who does that), and he forces them open as he offers you a sleepy smile. You lay your hand gently over his, but only half of a smile tugs at your lips, and you seem troubled and distracted.

Still, you hide these emotions behind your warm tone as you say, "Rest, Faramir, you seem tired." Obligingly, he lets his eyes shut, simultaneously relishing the feeling of your hand on his and worrying a little about your underlying agitation. Footsteps approach and a woman's voice greets you by name in Sindarin. You reply in a pleasant manner, but as you continue speaking, your voice cracks a few times and you sound distressed, but in the way that you've accepted whatever is addling you so. Faramir, although he is not even close to fluent, understands about a quarter of the elvish language (mostly just common words), and keeps himself awake as he half-eavesdrops on the conversation.

The main things he can pick out are 'Peregrin Took', 'help', 'confuse(d)', 'love of him', 'fear', and 'believe'- the first thing he thinks of is that you have fallen in love with Pippin, and his mood abruptly plummets as you get up and follow the woman to help another patient. Do you really? He reaches for another possibility- maybe Pippin was comforting and helping you with a fear of your love for someone else, possibly Faramir himself? -but his mind keeps circling back to that initial assumption, and jealousy fuels him, and feeds him and fills him with doubt. For the next few days, he pretends to lapse back into a phase of needing sleep most of the time and doesn't 'wake up' when you try to talk to or rouse him. He's not so sure he wants to have you as his nurse anymore, because if you are in love with Pippin, it will just about break his heart.

Then today, you sit on the edge of his bed and say softly, "Wake up, you great oaf, you're mistaken," and his surprise betrays him and he opens his eyes. You smile softly for what might be the first time all day and glance down for barely a moment before your gaze returns to Faramir's.

"I believe you owe me an apology." He hesitates, but the look you give him persuades him to sit up and reply, though he's unsure of how you knew of his envy.

"I apologize." 

You frown and nudge his foot- gently, though, as his leg is still healing from a gouged wound -as you shoot back, "You have to at least try to sound like you mean it."

"But why am I-"

"You talk in your sleep. Mithes- the woman I spoke to of my worries on the day you started ignoring me -overheard and relayed to me that, through your minimal understanding of Sindarin, you think I have fallen in love with someone; namely, Peregrin Took." Faramir dances around an answer for a second or two, and so you go on, "As a matter-of-fact, our discussion was of how Pippin has been helping me deal with my worries and fears as of late. He has become a dear friend, yes-" You tilt your head, half-exasperated and half-amused, at the frown crossing Faramir's face. "-but nothing more has or will come of it." You sigh and tut-tut as the cheeks of the only man left of his family line flush at his mistake. 

"Jealous fool," you tease, and he tosses a small pillow at you in retribution, but then earnestly responds, "I am sorry, Éalryth, truly." 

Your smile grows and you nod, simply replying, "I know. Now, how about moving you to your chambers? I have been assigned as your nurse, if that's alri-"

"Perfect. Oh, and Éalryth?" 

"Yes?"

"You spoke of a 'love for him'. Are you flustered by your affections for someone?" 

The blush on your cheeks affirms half of his assumption, but when you answer, "Yes, but I insist on saying nothing of whom they concern," he realizes you might be unsure of your feelings and so resolves to wait a few days before pressing you for details (despite how much he yearns to know for certain if you love him or not).

YCIOH: You should have realized he wasn't asleep when you spoke with Mithes- no one falls asleep that quickly (except maybe your brother)! However, you're glad you were able to change a potentially awkward and/or rough conversation into a mostly-positive interaction. In the back of your mind, you've been wondering something, and it's been taking up your attention as of late- he said he would return with a 'promise, should your heart be willing'; he still hasn't mentioned it and you don't want to pry, but your curiosity grows stronger each day...

HCIOY: You don't love Pippin? Good. You're going to be his private nurse from now on? Great. You just might love him? Fantastic! His mood is steadily climbing with each slow step he takes up the stairs to his chambers (with assistance from you). He doesn't want to rush you into confessing because of the fear you mentioned regarding your affections, but with his newfound hope and near-certainty that it's him you love, he's more than willing to wait as long as you need.

Boromir:

POV: You

As your and Boromir's stay in Rivendell goes on, you start to grow quite interested in the elven culture of the valley realm, especially their elegant language. Lord Elrond has graciously offered for Lindir, his advisor, to teach you a little of Quenya each day you remain here, and so every morning just after the sun appears on the sea's horizon (elves, you've learned, are early risers), you've been spending an hour and a half with Lindir in the palace library. Or, at least, that's how long it's supposed to be, but the last few days you've noticed something that quite amuses you. After your lesson with Lindir, you and Boromir always take a stroll through the royal gardens or along the docks (if it rains, though it only has once since this routine began, you traverse the halls of the palace instead). It has taken you a good week to notice, but Boromir has been drawing you away a few minutes earlier each day, so now your time with Lindir ends at an hour and ten minutes.

The next day, you make a show of stalling before bidding Lindir farewell, and sure enough, Boromir arrives exactly on the hour, barely hiding his impatience to get going. As you turn a corner into the courtyard leading out to the gardens, you casually ask out of the blue:

"Are you jealous?"

"No."

A smirk grows on your face when he replies immediately without having to ask what you are referring to. He glances at you twice as you don't say anything else, that knowing half-grin still present on your face, before adding almost defensively, "I'm not." You give a teasing laugh and nudge his arm teasingly, and he looks away, not meeting your eyes.

"Really?"

"Yes. Really."

"Not even a little?" 

Still keeping his gaze from yours, he hesitates and your smirk just gets wider when he admits, "Perhaps, just in the slightest." 

You, chuckling, reach for his hand and, when he lets you hold it, swing your hands together in the space between you as you tease, "You really like our walks that much, huh?"

He looks down at your held hands and a smile grows on his face as he replies, surprising you with his earnest tone, "Yes, Levim, I do." A companionable silence falls for a few moments before you resume your conversation from yesterday's supper about the pros and cons of the modern saddle, still hand in hand until you let go to point out two falcons circling over the bay to the East.

"Boromir?"

"Yes?" 

You wink at him.

"If I keep my morning lessons at an hour, would you be patient enough to wait until the last minute to steal me away?" 

He winks right back. 

"Certainly."

YCIOH: Lindir is a splendid companion and a wonderful teacher, but you do prefer Boromir's company and these walks with him have brought you a good deal of joy in these troubling times. Sometimes as of late, you wonder what you'd ever do without him- ironic, really, as you used to wish for him not to speak to you at all!

HCIOY: Boromir's greatest weakness is his how easily jealousy can overwhelm him, but for the first time in his life, he sat himself down this week and worked out a subtle, peaceful way to reclaim your attention. It worked, and although he's decently proud of himself for that, he knows deep down that this will not be the last time his jealousy rears its ugly head when it comes to his newfound affections for you.

Aragorn:

POV: Aragorn

Sweat trickles down Aragorn's brow as he takes out another orc, then two more with a single sweep of his blade. There are so many foes here attacking Helm's Deep, too many, but he doesn't have the time nor the energy to spare to worry about it. Seeing Legolas leap down the stairs of the ramparts, Aragorn waves to his elven friend to cover him as he goes up to find you. Reaching the last step, he dodges an orc's bludgeoning attack and pushes the beast off the side of the wall, taking down a few of its fellow soldiers as it falls. Haldir catches his eye first by how he's fighting so fluidly with another elf- and look at that, it's you. 

A volley of crude arrows comes hurtling out of the sky and Aragorn shouts a warning, giving you, Haldir, and the rest of his allies enough time to take cover before they hit. As you're rising, lowering your shield, a blackened battleaxe, flung by a nearby Uruk-hai, narrowly misses your head and you turn to face your new enemy. Aragorn fights toward you, but a flash on envy crosses his mind when he sees you and Haldir, as a team, don't need his help at all. Just as he reaches you, though an arrow hits Haldir in the arm and you move just too slow to avoid the same injury- luckily, Aragorn throws his shield at just the right moment to have the arrow catch on it instead. You shoot him a quick nod, all that both of you have the time for, and together with a slightly-incapacitated Haldir, you dive back into the fray.

YCIOH: You're glad of his help, especially in a fight as dire as this one. Still, although you know he's an exceptional fighter, he nearly died a few days ago when he was dragged off that cliff, and you're very worried he might come close again in this battle, the possibility of which you're hardly able to stand.

HCIOY: He will protect you with his life, though he knows you're a better warrior than him, and so he intends to fight alongside you for the remainder of this battle and any future conflicts that may occur.

Bard:

(Author's warning: some strong language)

POV: Bard

People must be desperate for entertainment in Laketown if they're willing to listen to a drunken man give a speech on the steps of a tavern, Bard muses to himself this evening as he returns from collecting his pay for the week.

"That skank has left town, no longer besmirching our good folks' names, and to that, I say good riddance!"

"Good riddance indeed!"

"Yeah!"

Bard pauses to mutter to an upset-looking Percy, "If I didn't know better, I'd say they look as if they're planning a hanging," to which the gatesman fidgets with his hands for a moment before responding.

"I'm afraid they are," he replies gravely, "for if she ever returns."

Immediately, Bard snaps to the realization and feels his blood start to boil. "How could they- for what offense-"

"Specs has half-convinced these lot-" Around eight people, all men. "-that Janne's a- pardon the word -whore and a witch, and not the sort of Gandalf-the-Grey magician."

Before he knows it, Bard feels his fist hammer again and again into that horrid Specs' face, quickly knocking the vermin of a man off the dock and into the cold waters of the Long Lake. For a beat, no one bothers to help him or go after Bard, and so the furious father of three (who are likely worrying over his lateness in getting home) takes the opportunity to dash away. It doesn't take him long to lose the mostly-drunk posse and returns home with bloodied knuckles and a burning desire to see Specs' life ruined like he destroyed yours- alas, he will not be the one to do it, for fear of that worm coming after his children.

YCIOH: As it has been two weeks since you left Laketown, you are unaware of this nasty event and are currently regaining your self-confidence as you work in the skin-changer Beorn's luscious gardens just beyond the forest of Mirkwood.

HCIOY: As Sigrid bandages his hand, he reassures her that no man, not even one as dastardly as Ormond Specs, would dare come for someone in their own home, and she is assuaged. When she returns to the stove to keep supper from burning, his thoughts swiftly turn to you. Where are you now? Have you already made it to Rivendell? Did the overly-suspicious king of Mirkwood throw you in a cell? Are you even still alive? He shakes his head, the questions weighing on him like a boulder on his heart, and settles on believing that you are alright and finally happy again to lighten the pressure of his worries a little. He'll readily admit he's jealous of you now, for he wishes he, Sigrid, Bain, and Tilda, could have gone with you, leaving behind this miserable place for good...

Haldir:

(Author's warning: one strong bit of language)

POV: Haldir

Trumpets blow, announcing the arrival of the expected nobility this afternoon. Haldir shifts on his feet, a little apprehensive of the rest of the day; on the contrary, beside him, you're having trouble holding back a wide smile. You grew up side by side with the son of this visiting family and continued to exchange correspondence with him when they moved to Imladris in your early teens (read: thirty-odd years old), a practice which you've maintained to this day. As Haldir knows you've grown into a stunning elleth, nearly as beautiful as your mother, he expects Acharon, your childhood friend, to make a move or two on you while he's in Lothlorien.

The doors swing open as the trumpets' song fades and a small group of well-dressed elves enters the throne room, led by a grinning young adult who is undoubtedly Acharon. With a cry of joy, you run towards him as he does the same, then he picks you up and twirls you around while you laugh, greatly excited to see him again. Haldir realizes he's white-knuckling the hilt of his sword and drops his hand as he gives a quick, respectful bow to Acharon's parents.

"It is so good to see you again, Acharon, truly." 

Acharon's gaze flicks up and down your body as he replies, clearly interested by your beauty, "The pleasure is entirely my own, Your Highness." You wave off the formalities with a laugh and hug his parents as Acharon himself turns to Haldir. A flicker of surprise crosses his gaze, but his smile does not falter and he greets the captain of the Lothlorien guard with a handshake and a "So, you're the Haldir Míresgal has written of so much". Roughly pulling Haldir closer, Acharon pats him on the back in a brotherly manner as he adds in Haldir's ear: 

"I must say, I expected more from my competition."

"Your tunic is inside-out, was the harlot you were just with in a hurry to get you out the door?" 

Acharon seems taken aback for a moment, then smiles and claps Haldir on the shoulder as he calls to you, "I like your friend, his wit is that of a dagger."

"Indeed, it is," you agree with a wink and approach the two men as your and Acharon's parents congregate to discuss local politics. Taking an arm of each, you lead them from the throne room and toward the stables, and Haldir tries to ignore his jealousy of how you greeted Acharon, determining he'll keep things civil for your sake as long as he does. And speaking of Acharon-

"Oh, and Acha, did you know your shirt's on inside out? I don't suppose Maelnith could have been in a hurry to leave your inn room this morning and threw you it as it was on the floor?"

Acharon stumbles in his surprise and Haldir lightly clenches his jaw to keep it from dropping.

"Or was it Gathil? Or Dewril? Maybe Nathien? Your mother listed them all in order, but I seem to have forgotten." With an innocent smile, you cheerfully announce your trio's arrival at the stables and shoo a red-faced, speechless Acharon inside to saddle up a steed. As soon as the large main door creaks shut, you burst into laughter with Haldir soon following in astonished suit. Through giggles, you reveal to Haldir that Acharon's mother sent you a letter last week detailing her son's many affairs and his intent to pursue you next- so, naturally, you intend to make enough of a fool of him that he gives up on you but not enough to permanently scar his pride.

"All I ask of you," you beseech Haldir with a wink, "is that you simply watch him fail." He nods, grinning, but then you hold up one finger, your other hand on the door handle, and glance back, eyes twinkling. "Oh- and try not to get jealous, mhmm? I much prefer you over him, though I do fondly remember our childhood together." 

Haldir returns the wink you shot him a few seconds ago and replies, "I am glad to hear it," then follows you into the stables.

YCIOH: What a riot today's going to be! One of the things you despise the most are womanizers, men who seduce then abandon women, and since Acharon seems to be heading down that path, your goal for the rest of the days he's here in Lothlorien is to riff on him so much that he ends his flirtatious escapades ASAP. As for Haldir- you heard that defensive taunt he shot back at Acharon after the latter's rude whisper and you applaud him for so calmly standing up for himself. And, of course, how could you not be endeared by those puppy-dog jealousy eyes he's had since you first greeted Acharon? His envy is clearly fading now, and you're glad your words convinced him of his superiority over Acharon in your mind.

HCIOY: He is still not a fan of Acharon, but he's more than willing to withhold all the sharp comments he could make at the nobleman's expense if you want to take him down yourself. Maybe part of your plan is to flirt with Haldir himself- let's just say he wouldn't mind that one bit.

Éomer:

POV: You

"Miss Rowena!" 

You turn from folding up a tent tarp to use as a sack, hearing your name, and a small, polite smile crosses your lips as Folfred, the man you danced with all last night at the festival, approaches with a shy grin.

"I do not suppose letters often reach the Riders?"

You glance down, forcing a blush, and reply, "You would be surprised how efficient our postal service is."

He lets out a relieved breath as his smile grows a little. "Then would you, perhaps, give me your blessing to write to you?" 

Just as you open your mouth to reply, a firm pair of hands take you by the shoulders and steer you away as a familiar voice cuts in curtly, "The lady's answer is no."

"Sir-" 

A glare from Éomer and the poor fellow falls silent and walks away, fiddling with his hands dejectedly. You feel bad for Folfred, despite how your answer was 'no' anyway, and when Éomer finally lets go of you next to where a group of the Riders' horses is penned, you swiftly spin around and slap him across the face.

"You cannot just take over for me like that!"

Rubbing his smarting cheek, he offers the weak protest of "You would not have said yes, anyway" and you smack him across his jaw on the other side of his face.

"That does not matter! My independence and free will are more important than your jealousy!" Éomer doesn't meet your gaze and you can tell you've hit the hammer on the nail.

"I was not-"

"Liar."

A beat. He sighs, one hand on his shoulder and the other resting on the forearm of the first hand in case he has to defend against another slap. 

"Fine, I apologize. Would you like me to send out a man to find the fellow?" Your anger fading, you draw a clean cloth from a scrap pile and dip it in the cold water of the horses' trough, then hand it to him to cool the stinging of your indignant blows.

"No, but I require you to admit your envy before I can forgive you." 

He pauses, a drop of water falling from his chin off the cloth, and he finally meets you eye-to-eye. The true shame and regret in his gaze assuages more of your anger and when he admits, "I was jealous. And I am verily sorry for it," you draw in a deep breath as your nerves relax. 

Letting it out, you offer Éomer a half-smile, then respond, "I accept your apology- just do not try to control my life like that ever again." He nods fervently and you sigh at his offered hug, but allow him to wrap you in his arms nonetheless. "Well, Captain, I have things to pack. Find me again at midday, my vexation will be cooled by then." And with that, you leave him by the horses, his head lowered at his own foolish actions.

YCIOH: No person, no matter how much you're falling in love with them, can take over your decisions like that without receiving a sharp talking-to at the least. Éomer got off easy, you know, compared to how angry you've gotten at your brother Sam in the past when he's tried to direct your life's relevant choices. You just hope the heir to Rohan's throne is smart enough to learn from his mistake. Your independence is precious to you, and you will not have it ignored so blatantly again. That said- he admitted his jealousy, but dare you assume? And why does this revelation buoy your spirits so much?

HCIOY: He's never seen you so angry, not even when Malkus and Holdren were taunting and toying with you every chance they got. He honestly feels terrible now, as he hadn't realized just how much you value your liberty of choice, and if he could undo his actions a few minutes ago, he would do so without a doubt in his mind. The worst part is how you know he was jealous- how are you processing that information? Have you already discerned his feelings before he himself knows what to do about them? And if so, how will he tell and how should he react? What to do, what to do, what to do...

Bofur:

POV: You

Once you've returned from collecting firewood with Bilbo (during which his interrogations about your feelings for you-know-who led to- well, you know), you seek out Bofur's company, wanting to get something off your chest. He's unpacking supper rations when you find him, silently shaking his head, lost in his thoughts. 

You kneel beside him and help to retrieve a tin of spices before speaking up. 

"You know, when Bilbo and I were-"

"Oh, yes, Dhamir and Bilbo, Bilbo and Dhamir." Your cheeks flush with surprise and a bit of annoyance at his sudden taunt.

"I'm sorry, what?"

"I said-" A look from you gives him pause. "I said nothing." You hand him the tins and stand up abruptly.

"That is what I thought. Bilbo and I are not a couple, nor will we ever be." He watches you turn to go, but lowers his gaze when you look back. "And neither will whatever this-" You gesture between you and him. "-is if you really think of me like that. I am not some floozy who's affections change with the wind."

HCIOY: He's ashamed of himself for allowing such foolish jealousy to take a hold on him, but your words struck deep, almost knocking the breath out of him- you acknowledge the possibility of an 'us', a major step forward for both of you, and he can barely contain his joy at this revelation.

YCIOH: You, although disappointed in his moment of jealousy, have already forgiven him (but you still want him to say 'sorry' sooner than later).

Up next: Just A Lighthearted Moment