(A/N: All of these are set as the story moves forward, not like the last part where they were all at random points in the past or present)

Thorin:

You and Thorin are strolling along through Beorn's immense garden, taking this rare moment to relax and unwind before the quest continues tomorrow, when you happen upon a huge tree with branches almost like stairs. You convince Thorin, who's in an exceptionally agreeable mood, to climb up it a ways with you, and you soon find a nook in the trunk about fifteen feet up where you can both sit comfortably, with room for enough personal space so it isn't awkward. Just as you're continuing on your pleasant conversation, you hear two familiar voices approaching the base of the tree. You're about to call down and say hello to Thorin's nephews when he asks you to stay silent and- here he smiles with uncharacteristic mischief -suggests to climb down quietly and scare them instead. 

You agree with an equally impish grin and begin to scramble down, stealthy as a Ringwraith in the black of night, but halfway to the bottom, Thorin close behind, you hear your name and pause. Thorin stops too, hearing his own name soon after, and you drop another few feet to listen better while he climbs down on the other side of the large trunk. 

"-why, yes, that's what I was saying! You saw how he looked at her before, so longing but masking it with distrust." 

"Think of how she was always trying to prove that she was worthy to him while also feigning indifference-" 

"-and she still is now, but without that front!" 

"Exactly my point! I saw something, just a few days ago, that really proves it. She was wincing over and over because her eye- er, what was left of it -was hurting so much, and she couldn't sleep, and Uncle apparently thought everyone else was slumbering, but no, I was up, and I saw as he went to her, took her in his arms, and sang her to sleep!"

"What tune?" 

"'Misty Mountains'." 

"Figures. No matter, though, you are certainly right, that happenstance must be a clear example of their deep, powerful, endless love for each other!" 

Your jaw drops and you feel your heart speed up quite a bit as your cheeks flame crimson. You had been sure no one else was awake at that time! It was a sweet memory, yes, but now, listening to Fili and Kili gossip about it, you only feel embarrassed to have been observed. Wishing to hear no more of this, you deftly drop out of the tree before the brothers and send them each a fierce but calm glare as you bid them a curt goodbye, then stiffly hurry away. It's a shame that you didn't stay to hear Thorin berating them, as you would have been able to see just how red his cheeks were and how mild his attempts were to convince his nephews that you weren't meant for each other...

HCIOH (His Current Impression of You): He's fairly certain he fancies you, but he has not a clue what to do about his quickly-growing affections. His nephews' gossip angered him, not only by how it embarrassed you, but at how much his heart leaped when Kili decreed that you 'just have to be in love'. He's frightened, to be entirely honest, by these strange and strong emotions, and he's worried that they will spiral out of control, just like his anger did when he saw Azog the Defiler alive- his lack of self-discipline cost you your eye. He is very concerned that if he isn't able to keep these feelings in check, something bad might happen to you again, and he's sure he wouldn't be able to live with himself if he should cause that to occur.

YCIOH (Your Current Impression of Him): You're very embarrassed by what's just happened, most of all by realizing Fili saw the sweet, warm, cozy moment you and Thorin had a few nights ago. Knowing it wasn't private sours your view, as if it was much less intimate than if it had been unobserved, and feeling like that just makes you want to cry. Some deep urge in your heart is pushing you to get upset at all this, and the persistence of it frightens you. What is this feeling, so sudden and new?

Fili:

Considering how you haven't been able to bathe since your stay in Rivendell, you have decided to do exactly that while able to relax at Beorn's homestead. While you're washing your hair, however, the door to the washroom bursts open and you yelp as Kili darts in, eyes firmly shut, and blindly snatches your shirt, pants, and drawers. In an instant, he's gone, careful to close the door after him, and you have to take a moment to process what just happened. You yell after him to no avail and leap out of the bathtub with bright red cheeks and a newfound thirst for the blood of that certain mischievous dwarf who's gone too far. Cursing to yourself in Khuzdul, you scan the room for anything you could use to cover yourself and decide the long blue curtain giving those in the tub extra privacy will have to do. 

Hair dripping wet, dignity fading, and lacking any proper clothing besides your boots, you push open the washroom door- and lo and behold, there's Fili, cheeks very pink as he offers you the items of his brother's thievery. His arms stiffen as he tries not to look through the scanty curtain, holding out your clothes as his cheeks deepen in color.

He says quietly, "Erm, I took these back from Kili, uh-" You jerk them from his hands and quickly whirl back into the washroom, too embarrassed at the moment to thank him. Once you redress yourself, dry your hair a bit then tie it up so it can dry fully outside in the sun, and compose yourself, you relax and walk out of the washroom less red-faced but still craving Kili's misery- and once again, there stands your savior, pacing and wringing his hands. He looks up and immediately scans your body as if to calm himself from the tension of seeing you almost naked, and your cheeks regain the rosy-red they'd just lost.

"AHEM." 

He blushes as well and coughs, muttering, "Well, you didn't look half-bad in that-" 

You give an indignant huff and smack him across the jaw for those less-than-appropriate words and he yelps, apologizing, but then you lean in and swiftly kiss his cheek and he shuts right up. 

"Innuendo or not, you still helped me out there. Thank you for that," you say sincerely and he nods sheepishly. "Now, where is that snake of a brother of yours? I have a good mind to shave off half of that little beard he has in retribution for this!" 

Fili hesitates, but at The Look™ you give him, he sighs and responds reluctantly, "Hiding in the poplar tree to the left of the yard when you exit the front door," and you are off like lightning, Fili gazing after you with a mixture of adoration for you and fear for Kili.

HCIOY: Your fiery spirit is one of the biggest reasons he fell so hard for you, and as he now observes you chasing Kili around the yard with a small knife to use as a razor, his heart warms yet simultaneously sinks as he notices you're clearly not going to give up your well-deserved revenge anytime soon.

YCIOH: You certainly appreciate how he returned your clothes to you, however, the little comment he made right after sent your heart really racing, and the embarrassment that comes from that sort of feeling is fueling your anger at Kili and his unfavorable 'prank'.

Kili:

(A/N: Long story short, Thorin begrudgingly allowed you to remain in Erebor after much debating and a promise from you to aid his search for the Arkenstone however possible.)

The sound of coins and jewels and other precious metals and gems cascading over each other is the first thing that alerts Kili to something being amiss. The second is a yelp from a familiar voice as the clamor grows, and he quickly climbs a stack of silver baubles to observe the third: the sight of you magnificently (*cough cough*) sliding down the hills of treasure, scrambling for purchase to no avail. He can't help but laugh at you, normally a quite graceful and poised person, in such a surprising circumstance. Before long, you slip out of his view and he listens as various other members of the Company pick up on the laughter.

On your end of the situation, you're finally able to grab hold of Bilbo Baggins' foot and halt your embarrassing tumble, climbing back to your feet with cheeks as red as a crimson rose. You happen to glance at Bilbo as you're smoothing down your clothes and notice that as his gaze at something behind you darkens, the lighthearted laughter abruptly fades. You turn around to see a steaming Thorin Oakenshield, fists clenched and teeth gritted as he storms at you. Kili appears near to your left just as Thorin strides closer, his fist raised, and you feel yourself subconsciously reaching for the younger Durin's hand. The King Under the Mountain opens his mouth, most likely to yell at you and order you to get out of his mountain, as usual, and you tense up, preparing yourself for his wrath.

HCIOY: As much as he adores you, he can't help but chuckle at what he just witnessed happen to you, but now his heart tightens as he waits fearfully for what his uncle is about to say.

YCIOH: One more slip-up and Thorin is sure to kick you out permanently- and that was probably it. Your cheeks pale and your heart shudders as you clasp your hands behind your back, anxious for his make-or-break declaration.

Bilbo:

For such a polite hobbit, you're quite shocked that Bilbo Baggins has just forgotten to knock and barged right in on you while you're changing. Luckily, your undershirt is long enough to cover from your thighs and up, but still, you're not wearing any pants. You squeak and snatch up a blanket to hold up in front of you as Bilbo's face goes stark white and he freezes stiff in the doorway. 

"I- er- you- I'll come back later!" 

The meek hobbit scampers out of the room, his metaphorical tail between his legs, and you release a shaky breath as he quickly shuts the door behind him. You saw what he did just there- and it surprises you way more than the sudden intrusion. Your heart thumps hard and fast and you feel your cheeks flame scarlet as you consider that unexpected moment-

YCIOH: -which was when you saw Bilbo clearly checking you out as he stuttered for speech. Despite the awkwardness of the situation, you can't help but smile with hope at what the underlying reason for his interest could be- love, perhaps? The thought sparks a new desire in you to find out the answer to that for certain. 

HCIOY: He didn't really mean to check you out, but now that he has, he feels a mixture of thrill, embarrassment, and worry. On one hand, maybe it hinted too much at his feelings and made you uncomfortable and/or angry. One the other hand, maybe it hinted just enough at his affections and, well, he's got to admit that your body is certainly something.

Legolas:

As you walk through these dense woods, you absentmindedly hum an old tune your mother once taught you, about an old king and a mountain or something, you can't quite recall. Oh, and there was definitely a dragon in there somewhere. You duck under a bramble bush easily and are glancing at rabbit tracks in the soft soil up ahead when you hear a soft grumble from behind you. Turning, you raise an eyebrow in curiosity, and then the other goes up as well when you see Legolas' tunic and cloak are caught up in the bramble bush you slipped under without a second thought a moment ago. You can't help but offer a long laugh at his plight and he frowns at you, clearly annoyed at his ensnarement. You continue to chuckle as you duck back under the bush and untangle his garments from below, and he sighs and nudges your arm in a silent and begrudging-but-teasing thank you.

Not three minutes later, you're back on the path, humming once more, when you have to halt as the hill suddenly climbs into a six-foot ridge. Your brow creases as you examine the obstacle, clearly almost twice as high as you are tall, when you feel a pair of hands clasp your waist. You yelp as you are lifted abruptly into the air, the person holding you laughing as he tosses you over the lip of the ridge and to the other side. You land clumsily and roll twice before regaining your balance and climb back to your feet, brushing off your clothes with a quiet curse. Legolas daintily leaps up with hardly any effort, still laughing softly at your yell of surprise when he hoisted you up.

You nudge his side, grumbling that you could have figured out how to get up yourself, and he beams down at you innocently and raises a gentle hand to your cheek. Your heart nearly stops inside your chest- is he about to kiss you? -but it resumes its pace when he rubs your jaw with his thumb and teasingly informs you that "you have a spot of dirt there". You blush and step away, scrubbing at it yourself, but as he walks away, whistling the same tune you were humming earlier, you can't help but muse that you seem to innately share the same sense of humor- no wonder you've fallen for him, you've always fancied the fellows who can make you smile and laugh even in the darkest times.

Thranduil:

The sound of singing is an unfamiliar experience in daily palace life, so when Thranduil is walking down a corridor on the top floor and hears a pleasant but loud voice belting out an old folk tune acapella, he pauses in his path and decides to investigate. The vocals are from a feminine person, he determines, one that sounds strangely familiar, and they are coming from the floor below. He paces to find the exact spot above the singer, plots out a map of the palace in his mind, and is quite shocked to realize he's standing above your quarters. He hurries down to your door and listens for a moment or two before gently opening it. And there you are, tapping your foot on the wood floor as you sit at your desk (facing away from him), your voice carrying loud and clear and lovely to his ears.

Thranduil can't help but smile at how odd this occasion is, having never before heard you sing, and watches you for a few beats until you glance up and see him in the mirror above your desk. You immediately break off the singing and your cheeks flame scarlet as you stare at each other in the mirror, he with a wide smile and you with a brow creased from embarrassment. It takes you a few seconds, but once you regain your senses, you leap to your feet and turn around, apologizing in a mix of flurried Sindarin, Quenya, and Westron for disrupting him. He laughs and you feel the tension in your body relax as he smoothly teases that he didn't mind at all and 'enjoyed the show'. He then offers a small bow, which you promptly return, and leaves, chuckling about the pleasant oddity he just had the privilege to listen to.

HCIOY: He thinks that you have a lovely singing voice and is surprised that over all these years knowing you, he's never heard it before today. This notion leads doubt into his mind, and as he heads to a meeting with his head guard, he begins to worry that perhaps he doesn't know you as well as he thinks he does- and if that's the case, he's substantially discouraged from his hopes of finding your affections in return to his own.

YCIOH: You hadn't realized just how loud you were, being focused on your papers and all, and having Thranduil be the one to find you and laugh about it certainly wasn't embarrassing, oh, no, not at all! You now find yourself ignoring the paperwork before you as your heart sinks, the sight of his mirthful reaction haunting you and sending a wave of doubt into your hopes that he could reciprocate your love.

Lindir:

You and Lindir have decided, it being such a lovely day and all, to take a stroll through Imladris' vast yet homely gardens as you discuss the recent visit of an ambassador from Rohan. As of late, you have taken a newfound and passionate interest in Lindir's duties as your father's adviser, and the ellon himself has been all too happy to answer all your questions, teach you how to deal politely with uncourteous strangers, and educate you regarding other things you're curious about concerning his job. Today, he's brought you a few documents concerning the profits of the ferrymen in the kingdom this month, and you are examining them as you cross a small bridge, pointing out the things Lindir asks you to like a good student. You're just able to decipher what it all means just as you reach the zenith of the bridge and throw your hands up in glee, Lindir beaming at you like a proud teacher-

And just then, the wind decides to swoop in, snatch the papers from you, and deposit them in the brook below. Your cheeks flush rosy red as Lindir gives a sharp gasp and stares down at the water as the parchment disintegrates. He sighs as you quickly apologize, truly sorry for your mistake, and he shakes his head and stiffly waves it off, muttering something about how 'this isn't the first time this month I've needed them to draw it up again'. He then bids you good-day to go speak to the head ferryman (again, apparently) and leaves you leaning against the railing of the bridge, face pink and tears of embarrassment held back firmly behind your eyes.

HCIOY: He's only a little frustrated at the accident- mostly because he hates feeling mad at you, and besides, he can't stay annoyed at you for long anyway -but what he's really chastising himself for is letting slip that those were the second copies made this month of the ferryman's income. You don't know that the first were ruined because he was daydreaming about you and spilled a jar of ink all over them, but he fears that if you simply ask Elrond (who was there when the first mishap occurred), your father would spill the beans and embarrass Lindir quite a bit.

YCIOH: You've never seen him openly annoyed at you before, and you feel just awful about bringing it into the light. You swear to yourself now that if there's a way to make it up to him, you'll do it as soon as possible and regain his good graces. But wait- about that 'not the first time' thing: what did he mean by that? Maybe your father will know...

Elrond:

A few minutes ago, you just saw the most amazing alignment of two major constellations through your telescope. You're incredibly excited, and the first person you think to show is Elrond, so you rush down the winding stairs of the astronomy tower to his quarters. You rap on his door with an enthused fist, and when he opens it, hair a little disheveled as if he'd been running his hand through it over and over recently, his eyes widen. 

"Quickly, you're got to see this, it's incredible, only happens once every two centuries- what?" Your eager smile fades a little as the ruler of the kingdom you reside in swallows a meek attempt not to laugh. You wince, thinking that he's laughing at your zeal for the stars, and he raises his eyebrows and shakes his head, evidently reading your reaction well. 

"Oh, no, it's not- I'd love to see, it's just- oh, nevermind, lead the way!"

Your excitement takes over and you grab his hand, practically sprinting as you bring him to the top of the tower, worries about what he was suspiciously chuckling at temporarily forgotten. You lean into your telescope and adjust it a little, the merged constellations clear above, and then leap back, gesturing for Elrond to try. To your surprise, he instead bursts into laughter and your cheeks flush red with embarrassed confusion. 

It takes him a few moments, but before long, he collects himself and says, "You see, I do believe your cousins left you a sort of 'parting gift' before they left here yesterday." You blink twice, now even more baffled, and it's only when he hands you one of the small mirrors you use for your work that you understand.

Around your left eye is a black ring of blackberry-juice-based paint, the same around your right eye but a little lighter in tone. Despite your slight humiliation, you offer a chuckle and a joke:

"Why, I resemble an owl with magnificently large spectacles!" 

Elrond giggles- yes, giggles -in agreement. He's still in humor as wipe off the prank paint and you roll your eyes at him, trying to get across that his amusement is just embarrassing you, but he apparently doesn't get the hint and keeps chuckling, repeating your jest in a murmur to himself as your cheeks grow rosy red once more. 

You sigh, annoyed and abashed, and stalk away down the stairs, muttering just loud enough for him to hear, "Forget it."

HCIOY: He feels bad now. He didn't mean to embarrass you, really, but his sleep-deprived mind (he's barely slept since the incident with your aunt and uncle two days ago) and his new desire to be perfect around you (very stressful tbh) oddly wouldn't allow him to let it go. He sighs now and leans against a pillar, crossing his arms and wondering how he can make up for this mistake.

YCIOH: You wouldn't have expected him to laugh so much at you like that, and so now, as you power-walk to your quarters, your enthusiasm at that astrological wonder forgotten, you fold your arms tightly across your chest and give a huff of frustration, disappointment, and upset. What hurts the most, really, is how you were starting to think that you maybe had a shot with him- and now, you're falling back into the realm of unsure.

Gimli:

It is uncommon to see a Dúnadan drunk, but considering the ghastly amount of elven ale you've consumed this eve, those in your presence will be shown just that. Legolas is the first to notice your odd gate and he waves over your brother and Gimli for backup as he approaches you. 

"Ningannel, are you-" He doesn't even get to finish the question before you stumble into him, eyes wide and woozy. 

"Hello, my leafy pal," you mutter, clearly over-intoxicated, "could you help me find another bar? That one cut me off but I want'a get more ale." 

Legolas' expression softens as he holds you steady by his hands on your shoulders, and he says to Aragorn as your brother appears out of the crowd, "Which way to the inn? Your sister is-" 

"Drunk! Whoop whoop!" Again, you cut off old friend, and Aragorn starts laughing as you fling your arms up in a show of enthusiasm and smack Legolas on the nose by accident.

Legolas is rubbing his nose and mouthing 'whoop whoop?' to himself just when Gimli arrives on the scene and you spot him with vision that is growing steadily blurrier. 

"And who you be?" you ask, words out of order as you smile dizzily at the dwarf, and he goes slack-jawed in shock. 

"Ningannel," he cries, truly taken aback by this unexpected occurrence, "just how many ales have you drunk tonight?" 

"Fift-fifty-" 

Aragorn ventures hopefully, "Fifteen?", but you giggle and pinch his cheek as you reply with bravado: 

"Fifty-one!" 

Aragorn swats your hand away and Gimli gasps. Legolas sighs and picks you up easily, quickly getting over his surprise- he's seen crazier things -and asks Aragorn again where the inn is at where the Fellowship is staying tonight.

Your brother insists on coming along, as does Gimli, but this turns out to be a mistake when you won't stop asking prying questions about Arwen to Aragorn and half-teasingly, half-honestly interrogating Gimli on who he is. The dwarf is upset by this increasingly-awkward conversation and soon turns back to the party not far behind, Aragorn following. The rightful king of Gondor has a long, heart-to-heart chat about Gimli's feelings for you with the dwarf as Legolas gets you to your room and (smartly) locks you in.

The next morning, you wake with a hangover that feels like a thousand woodpeckers are hammering at your skull and every joint in your body every second of every minute, and it takes you a moment or two to realize Gimli is standing in the doorway with a jug of water. All you can do is cough and groan to call to him, but he quickly understands and comes to you, looking oddly nervous (and very shimmery, which is probably due to the hangover). After you take a long drink and your head clears a little, you croak out a question as to what in the Valar happened to you last night. Gimli kindly explains and you apologize, red-faced, for your ridiculous behavior and for apparently not entirely recognizing him then, and he pauses for a long moment. You wait, fidgeting with your hands, but then he accepts your apology with a small smile and you realize his wait was just to make you squirm. You give a sigh of relief and offer him a hug, which he readily accepts, and all seems to be well between you and him again.

HCIOY: Although he was certainly distraught by your behavior last night, the light of day brought to him a realization that you wouldn't have gotten drunk unless you had a purpose, he knows you're more responsible than that. Even though he doesn't know anything about that purpose (and he's not about to pry), he's come to terms that you didn't mean to forget his face and if you could have, you probably wouldn't have chosen to. He hopes that at some point you'll let him in on why you chose to drink so heavily because he has a strong suspicion it has something to do with him, but he is also fine with continuing to live without that knowledge.

YCIOH: You feel really awful about the fiasco last night, and as you try to block out the over-stimulating world with a pillow after Gimli's left the room, you start to cry silently, feeling like a complete fool. In truth, you'd wanted to get drunk to have the audacity to announce your affections for Gimli to his face, but things clearly went awry and led to a night of embarrassment for all involved, it seemed. On that note, you'll be sure to apologize to your brother for your prying questions and to Legolas about the 'my leafy friend' comment- well, on second thought, maybe you'll just 'forget' about the latter...

Merry:

The fellowship has been walking all day now with scarcely a lunch break and no other times of rest, meaning that all of the group is tired, hungry, and a bit prickly (except Legolas, because "elven endurance" or whatnot). You're hardly looking where you step, your mind preoccupied with thoughts of food and sleep, and a few of your fellow short-legged companions seem to be doing the same- but then someone gives a yelp as you simultaneously hear a 'thud', and as a result, you refocus. To the left of the path appears to be a small ditch; from within this, you can hear muffled grumbling. You look down into it and lo and behold, Meriadoc Brandybuck stands there, staring straight back at you with a miffed expression. 

"What are you doing down there, Master Hobbit?" you ask innocently as an amused smile grows on your face.

"Please, just help me get out." You raise your eyebrows in mild surprise and he crosses his arms and taps his foot with impatience. 

"But, Merry, you must understand my confusion, this rut is barely taller than thee-" 

"Kif!" Pretending to give up on the teasing with a wink, you take off your back and rummage through it for a rope, and when Merry asks you what you're stalling for, you reply in a slow, lengthy manner, "As you surely know, I, too, am not a person of taller stature and therefore think it advisable to use a tool of braided fibers which some, and by some I mean many, and by many, I mean most, would give the respectable name of 'rope' to aid your ascent from this hilariously-shallow depth, and so-"

As you go on and on, you manage to locate the rope and, with Aragorn's help, hoist Merry out of the ditch. 

The moment he gets to his feet, he claps his hand over your mouth to stop your droning teasing and cries, "Spare me further woes, Kif, can't you see I've had enough for now?", although you can tell he's having trouble holding back a smile. 

You reach up and pull his hand away, replying, "Then shall we go on?" and to your giddy surprise, he doesn't let go of your hand as he responds in the affirmative, and just like that, the monotonous walk doesn't seem so bad after anymore.

YCIOH: His accidental excursion into the ditch brought your sore mood up a little, and now, as he gently grasps your hand, occasionally swinging it in the space between your bodies, you can't help but smile, your tiredness and hunger momentarily forgotten- still, it's hard for you to put aside your wondering as to how he fell in there in the first place.

HCIOY: He was a bit irritated at your jabbering teasing, but it was kind of funny in immediate retrospect, and you're letting him hold your hand as you go along, so he's already forgiven you for making a bit of fun at him. It's just a good thing you don't know why he fell into the ditch- he was daydreaming about you -or else he'd really be embarrassed.

Pippin:

The hours of these past few days have been so terribly tense and wearisome. With the threat of an attack by an organized, vast army of orcs and other such vile creatures looming imminent on the horizon, you and many others have found it difficult to work up an appetite. Even Pippin, who ate quite a lot when he first arrived at Minas Tirith, seems to have his passion for good food lacking. This evening, to relax a little, you are reading with Pippin in the library, hiding from your father's watchers in a secluded alcove, when your stomach gives the most beastly growl. Your face flames vermillion and you instinctively pull your knees up to your chest in a futile attempt to shush the sound as Pippin either doesn't notice or is too polite to laugh. You close your eyes and wish fervently for your stomach to shut up, but your prayers are to no avail and the growling appears once more, and then again within the next minute.

The third time it happens, you resort to burying your face in your hands with embarrassment as Pippin finally starts giggling, unable to remain mock-ignorant of the situation. 

"Oh, be quiet," you grumble to him through your hands, but hearing the sound of amusement lifts your spirits a little. It's been weeks since you've heard someone laugh in a way that wasn't sarcastic or rueful- and suddenly, you start laughing with your hobbit companion; and there you then are, a pair of worried friends-by-chance still giggling away in a library alcove three minutes later when one of your father's guards calls your name close by. You both immediately taper off the laughter as to not be caught and Pippin leans close, his lips almost brushing your ear as he whispers, "To the kitchens?" 

"Indeed, onward!" And so you, like two little mice, scamper off to fulfill your sudden hunger with a snack or two from the kitchens.

HCIOY: Truly, he feels a little bad for laughing at you when you were clearly embarrassed, but he is also glad you're hungry now, as he's noticed you've barely eaten in the last three days.

YCIOH: You're grateful that he was polite enough to pretend to not hear your stomach at first and also that he was unexpectedly able to turn what could have been an embarrassing situation into a well-needed moment of uplifted spirits.

Sam:

"-and the blueberries from your father's garden in springtime, Sam?" Do you remember the pies I would make of them? And the trout from the river in August, how we'd catch them with nets or rods or baskets- oh! Remember the time Pippin caught one in his bare hands and it squirmed so hard to get away, it smacked 'im right in the mouth with its tail, and-" 

"Magnolia, please!" Your out-loud reminiscing is cut off by Frodo's sudden protest and you blush, wondering what you said amiss, as Gollum (apparently in his Sméagol state of mind) chortles loudly over your fish anecdote. 

"Did I say something?" you ask tentatively and Frodo jabs stiffly at the small fire before him. 

"All of it! Just- just stop it! Stop!"

You lower your head with embarrassment, confused and hurt by his outburst, and glance to Sam for reassurance that you didn't say something wrong- but to your surprise, he won't meet your eye, silently admitting that he agrees with Frodo to some extent. Only Sméagol doesn't seem irritated by you now, which is hardly reassuring, and so you hold back stinging tears as you stand to "get more firewood... or something". You return about ten minutes later with a meager handful of sticks, having realized that your nostalgic stories were probably not the best to tell while on a life-threatening and possibly-fatal quest that you might never return home to the Shire from, and now you feel just awful for being so inconsiderate (albeit accidentally) and bringing down your companions' spirits.

You stoke up the fire silently, unable to repent now as you see that Frodo and Sam are apparently asleep in the shallow cave you've chosen to shelter in tonight. Sam rolls over to face you after a bit, however, and when you see his eyes are open, you are quick to apologize for your naiveté about your reminiscing. 

He smiles ruefully and replies, his voice quiet as to not wake Frodo, "It's alright, Nellie, we all miss home," then beckons you over to lay down beside him. You do so gladly, but are unable to drift off all night despite the soothing nature of Sam's familiar breathing next to you.

HCIOY: He can tell you honestly feel bad about bringing down the mood earlier, and as always, he's already forgiven you for it, but that doesn't mean he's not still strongly homesick because of your familiar stories. He certainly won't let you know of his sadness, because he knows you'll (albeit rightfully) blame it on yourself, and he doesn't want to make you feel worse.

YCIOH: He's homesick now, really homesick, you can just tell, and you feel considerably worse about the whole thing, which has led to your inability to sleep tonight. Hopefully, you'll both feel better in the morning.

Frodo:

You are really not paying attention to anything right now, lost in worries of your brother's well-being, of how Frodo's still coping badly with Gandalf's death, of how the sky seems to darken a few minutes sooner every night. Frodo is having a hushed conversation with Sam across the fire from you, Gollum is down by the nearby creek, scrambling for fish, and as you turn the spit of wild quail over the fire, one of the legs falls off into the flams because it's so tender. Without thinking at all, you reach into the fire and pick up the scorched leg of meat.

"Osbiel!" Frodo cries in astonished warning, but it's too late. Reality speedily catches up to you and you yelp, dropping the leg back into the small blaze and instinctively shaking your hand with vigor as your skin begins to blister. Frodo leaps up and ushers you to the creek to cool your injuries in the cold water while Sméagol snickers and Sam blinks, apparently trying to process just how uncharacteristically-stupid what you just did is. You wince repeatedly as you let the frigid water numb your burns, but take comfort in how Frodo is gently holding your other hand and patiently crouching beside you, not even cracking a smile at your foolishness.

YCIOH: You're very impressed and endeared by Frodo's reaction to your careless mistake. The thought abruptly strikes you that he would be a great father- and although it's sudden, it doesn't pass at all, just retreats to the back of your mind once you're done with it.

HCIOY: Sure, what you did was surprisingly dumb, but he could tell you were lost in thought when you made the careless move. Hey, no, no, he wasn't staring at you, that wasn't why he noticed immediately, certainly not, he's not that infatuated with you...

Faramir:

(A/N warning: this one's a bit grisly)

A soft sigh escapes your lips as you take a moment to yourself just outside the door of the hospital. The last few days have been quite hectic for you: with Faramir being terribly wounded and all, you've been spending a lot of time in the critical care ward and the healers, once learning of your moderate knowledge of medicine and wound treatments (for a while, your dream was to be a healer and so you spent a brief stint training to be one in your teens), have put you to work. Caring for the soldiers who may not make it day-in and day-out undoubtedly takes a mental and physical toll on anyone doing so, and you are no exception. The bags under your eyes might as well be called pits, they're so deep, and the weary smile on your face appears less and less with each waking hour. Your moment is over when a healer opens the door suddenly and holds it for you as she leaves, and so you mutter a thank you and head in.

The smells of pus, blood, and bile hit you immediately, and although you expect yourself to be used to it by now, you instead react quite the opposite and feel yourself start to gag. With nowhere else near to turn to, you vomit into a nearby chamber pot (that is not empty, unfortunately) and rise with red cheeks and watering eyes, your grim expression relaying your determination to help these suffering souls despite your embarrassment and exhaustion. As you wipe a bit of puke from your lip, you notice Faramir is watching you with bleary eyes three cots over. You would normally be twice as embarrassed knowing that he probably saw the whole thing, but today, you just don't have the time or energy for that and simply offer him a stalwart smile before turning to see where you are needed.

HCIOY: He did, in fact, notice you come in out of the corner of his eye and so rolled over to see you better, just in time to watch your entire vomiting experience. Although he can tell you're flustered by your reaction to the terrible smells of this ward, he admires your quick readiness to help despite your discomfort.

YCIOH: By the time you're able to check on him today, he's fallen back to sleep, and so you take the chance to sit on the edge of his cot and have a short but much-needed cry. Among many other things, your tears stem from your feelings concerning Faramir. You're frightened that you'll lose him after such a short time of knowing him, frightened of your stunningly strong attraction to him, frightened that you'll be the one to die instead from exhaustion- the terror is almost overwhelming, and the worst part is that you have no one to talk to about it.

Boromir:

The days are warm and peaceful here in Rivendell, where you and Boromir have decided to lay low for a few weeks before heading to Gondor to seek the fates of the rest of the Fellowship. This sort of 'stalling' is for many reasons, but the one that neither of you has admitted to but silently and mutually agree on is that you both want to 'make up for lost time', or in other words, 'flirt and banter and grow closer like you would have months ago if not for your shared stubbornness' (ahEM). This evening is a particularly lovely one, the sunset completely unobscured over the bay, and so you and Boromir have taken the opportunity for a stroll along the docks. It's not very busy down here this time of day, and so you and he easily lose yourselves in earnest conversation.

Because your side hasn't fully healed from the orc attack a week and a half ago, you're limping a little, and you're also not paying much attention to where you're going, so it's almost inevitable that you soon find yourself dazed and with an aching head, having walked straight into a lamp post. Boromir is laughing heartily at you, but as you resume walking, you notice another post close by. 

"You know, I have been wondering..." You beckon him toward you as if about to spill a secret, and right on timing, the post 'jumps out at him' and he walks headfirst into it. You both end up laughing about that one and continue on your merry way, what could have been an embarrassing moment turned into an amusing memory.

HCIOY: Over the last few days, he's discovered a lot about you, as well as a little about himself. For example, he now knows just how excellent you are at flirting, that your wit and humor are similar to his (a good thing), how your nose crinkles up just a little when you laugh, that you've always wanted to see Minas Tirith but haven't yet gotten the chance- and from all this, he's realized that maybe he doesn't know nearly as much about love as he (up until recently) thought he does.

YCIOH: You've never met a man (of any race) that can equal you in banter before now, and as the days pass, you find yourself rethinking almost everything you've ever believed about love- all because of just one Steward's son...

Aragorn:

The sun rises too bright on this dark morning. Normally, you appreciate the light dawn brings, but as the circumstances around you continuously turn grimmer and grimmer, you've found yourself silently chiding the sun for its blind optimism. This morn is indeed a grave one, for the people of Rohan are embarking on a mass exodus to Helm's Deep, the only place their troops stand a chance against Sauron's wicked army. Currently, you are sorting through the armory with Aragorn, Merry, and Gimli to suit up for the inevitable fight ahead. You and Aragorn are expecting an ambush, but Gimli and Merry aren't so sure. Nonetheless, the shorter fellows don chainmail shirts at your insistence, as does Aragorn- but then, he finds a dusty cloth shirt hemmed with mithril and therefore more protective than his plain cloth shirt and decides to wear it as well.

Just as you're grabbing a chainmail vest for yourself, the heir of Gondor casually slips off his chainmail, cloth, and undershirt, leaving his bare chest and muscles on full display. As he pauses to dust off the thick cloth, you try and fail not to stare, muttering to yourself- 

"Taw tui poldae bell, hain garberiahon am maer an aronoded beleg angwedh barf."

 -or, at least, you meant to mutter it. Gimli and Merry just look at you with confusion, but Aragorn glances over with a slightly raised brow and, to your delighted shame, he winks at you. Your cheeks flush, knowing he understood every word you said, and you quickly turn back to layering the chainmail vest laying limp in your hands over your cloth shirt.

HCIOY: He didn't think you had it in you to make such a risqué remark, but he's, ah, pleasantly surprised to be proven wrong. That said, however, he's stuck on the 'why' of your words- he dares to hope, but also fears the same...

YCIOH: Well, he didn't frown or scoff at the rather bawdy compliment, and so you count that as a win (albeit an embarrassing one) in your metaphorical book. And that wink? Butterflies in your stomach and a shiver up your spine.

(The compliment? It means 'Those muscles are so strong, they would protect him better than the finest chainmail any day' in Sindarin.)

Bard:

The barge bumps up against the side of the dock with a clunk that sounds eerily forlorn to you. Bard tosses the hooked rope like he has a thousand times before and it dutifully catches on a post. You collect your things, Bard pulls up the rudder, the water ripples as a cold, unfriendly breeze sweeps across it- all in silence. Off the boat you go, taking Bard's offered hand as you step from vessel to quay even though you don't need his help, you just want to hold his hand for a moment before you go. Shifting your bags on your shoulders, you let out an uneasy breath. There is nothing you can see ahead but dense woods and craggy mountainous terrain.

"You're certain about this?" Bard's tone is resigned. He knows he can't convince you to stay, the question is more of a courtesy than a plea. 

"Yes," you hear yourself answer, but the word feels distant, just another polite formality. He offers you a hug, but you know that if you accept, you'll just start crying, so you lower your head in a meek attempt to portray this and he seems to understand. A moment of silence passes. 

"Janne." 

Without letting yourself think, you reach forward and suddenly, your lips are on his, and suddenly, he's stumbled back, almost falling into the lake, and suddenly, he's far behind you and you take a slow, deep breath of air but it feels like you're sinking, and suddenly, you're gone.

YCIOH: Your priority right now is to get to the edge of Mirkwood Forest before nightfall, and so you push all other thoughts from your mind as you march- especially thoughts of him.

HCIOY: He's gone through stages of shock, denial, fear, anger, dismay, and now, as he steers his barge back toward Laketown, he settles on disappointed resignation. There's a whole lot of things he needs to unpack considering what he knows about you, but for now, he's going to hide that metaphorical suitcase in the corner of his metaphorical closet until he feels ready to confront himself about the naivety he's had, the secrets you've kept, and the mistakes you've both made.

Haldir:

It is a lovely afternoon in Lothlorien- to stay indoors, that is. The rainstorms that once swiftly came and went every three months or so have now begun to frequent your forest home at a frustratingly-high rate. Haldir has apparently noticed your annoyance at being near-constantly kept indoors, as he wakes you up this morning with a pillow to your face. "Haldir!" you gasp, genuinely surprised at his audacity, but his wide, almost-childish smile quickly wins you over and a ridiculously-competitive pillow fight soon ensues. Nearly an hour passes before you both collapse on top of your bed, panting but still laughing quietly at the fun you've just had together. After absentmindedly admiring the mural painted on your ceiling (it tells the tale of Beren and Lúthien entirely through illustrations), you and Haldir turn to look at each other at roughly the same time, still breathing hard from the pillow fight.

A pause as you smile at each other, then you roll your head to look back up, pointing at one of the moments in the mural's story. Beside you, Haldir moves just as you point and you something brush against your cheek through your hair. Glancing over a beat later, you see his face suspiciously red and his gaze averted from yours. 

"-my mother always said- what?" 

Haldir raises an eyebrow. "Your mother always said 'what'?" You nudge his arm and sit up.

 "Oh, stop that, you know what I meant. Do I have something on my cheek?" 

"No, I didn't try to-" He freezes, halfway through protesting something you didn't ask (and hadn't thought to) and sitting up, and catches himself rather clumsily: "-to not get a speck of lint off of your cheek. Yes. I mean, no. As in, you had a bit of, erm, thread on your cheek. I think."

"Thread?"

"Yes."

"Not lint?"

"Well, lint isn't the thread I did not say, why so, you see?" You blink at Haldir, substantially confused for long enough that he can stand up and speedwalk out of the room, promising in a hurry to bring you breakfast in a short while.

YCIOH: What was that? Clearly a myriad of excuses for something he'd flunked at trying, but why? As you lean against the headboard of your bed, your gaze lands on a very specific image in the mural on your ceiling- and in a matter in of moments, you've got it:

HCIOY: He tried to kiss, yes. Not the brightest move, he scolds himself as he walks to the kitchen, the adrenaline in his veins noticeably boosting his walking speed. Control your impulses. By the Valar, he's embarrassed- he leaned in for a kiss and got a mouthful of hair. And "lint isn't the thread I did not say"? What sort of word-vomit excuse was that? He's pretty sure the crimson on his cheeks will never fade after that.

Éomer:

The Riders have stopped for the time being in a small town right on the Rohan-Gondor border- and it just so happens that is the birthday of the governor of this particular town, and so, a raging festival is being thrown. The Riders (yourself included) are all too happy to join the merrymaking at the insistence of the locals, and the day passes quickly, bleeding into evening before you know it. A lively dance is begun in the town square and almost everyone jigs, twirls, and taps to their heart's content. A decent amount of folks remain on the outside of the square, clapping and chatting with each other, and as a decently-handsome stranger twirls you about, you spot Éomer on the sidelines, his gaze locked on you.

You flash him a wide smile, but he just startles and looks away. Once the fast-paced song has ended and you've curtsied to your much-taller-than-yourself dance partner, you head over to him. 

"Care to dance?" you ask, smiling warmly as you reach out a hand, the other held customarily behind your back. He hesitates, apparently not realizing that you won't be accepting 'no' for an answer, and so you take hold of his hands with both of yours and give a strong tug. Reluctantly, he follows you onto the dance floor just as a lively jig is starting up. You begin to dance, your skirt swishing to-and-fro, but Éomer just sort of sways and taps his feet. He twirls you a few times, but in all, he's quite the lackluster dance partner- and when Folfred, the fellow from before, asks you another dance, you agree with looking back.

YCIOH: You are both disappointed and surprised by his lack of enthusiasm. You've never seen him as uncomfortable as he was dancing with you, but you're really not sure why. Maybe he just doesn't like to dance? You just hope you haven't annoyed him in some way.

HCIOY: He, simply put, despises to dance. He considers it a silly waste of time, which, coupled with how much he (almost incredibly) sucks at dancing of any kind, makes him a pretty poor dance partner. He's a bit peeved at you for making him dance with you, but he's also kind of worried that he may have to learn how to properly dance in order to win your affections one day.

Bofur:

You and Bilbo are out collecting firewood when your hobbit friend suddenly fires off a barrage of questions about your feelings for Bofur- and in your shock and unease, you end up stumbling back over a root and falling right into a small creek. Bilbo yelps and hurries to help you, but he only succeeds in splashing you further. Once you regain your composure and previous position (standing, not arse-down in a creek), you examine the damage. Your lower back and behind are drenched, as well as your, erm, privates, and the feminine aspects of your chest (from Bilbo's splashing). 

"Splendid," you mutter through gritted teeth, and Bilbo blushes, quickly apologizing for causing this mess. He slips off his shirt and offers it to you as a makeshift towel, which you take as your annoyance at him fades. He only means well, of course. As you're drying yourself, the now-shirtless hobbit bends down to pick up the firewood you dropped when you stumbled into the creek- bad idea.

His foot catches on the same exposed root as yours did and he trips right into your legs. In a poor attempt to stop your combined fall, he grabs a nearby tree sapling, but in doing so, lands almost straddling you. Immediately, he yelps, blanches, and leaps away like a hare that's just spotted a fox as you sit up with cheeks burning with embarrassment. He only. Means. Well. You stand once more and pick up your firewood yourself, keeping one eye on the tensed-up, crimson-cheeked Bilbo (just in case). A long minute later and you've composed yourself to say, 

"Not a word of this to anyone, alright?" The hobbit nods so fervently, you're half-certain his head might pop off. "Good. We should return to camp, then."

HCIOY: Bofur has no idea this just happened, and he probably never will.

YCIOH: Well, that was an embarrassing catastrophe. You'll be sure to not let Bilbo accompany you on any future firewood-collecting ventures, that's for certain. As for Bofur- you'll never tell him. Why expose your embarrassment to the potential love of your life? Nope, he'll never hear a peep about this from you (and, hopefully, not from Bilbo either).

Next up: He Tries To Make You Laugh (GIFs)