(Hello, my darling readers! Just a quick note here I forgot to mention prior to this chapter- these stories will feature a female character/reader. I apologize for not mentioning this before now.)

(Note number 2: much apologies for the extreme variation in story lengths here- I certainly got a bit carried away with some of these!)

Thorin Oakenshield: 

You are visiting your cousin Bilbo Baggins at Bag End one lovely spring evening to find an odd symbol scratched onto his front door. You tilt your head and place your hands on your hips, confused. He just had that door painted a few weeks ago, surely he doesn't mean to redecorate so soon, and so peculiarly? You knock and soon enough your cousin opens the door in a fit of grumbling. Once he sees it's only you, however, he visibly relaxes. 

"Oh, Amaranth, thank goodness it's you! My home is being infested by dwarves and I-" Your eyes widen and you brush past him, heading straight for the dining room where you can hear voices, not even bothering to take off your jacket. And there indeed, seated around a small red-oak table by the fireplace, are four dwarves, deep in jovial conversation. You sit down among them immediately and ask all about why they're here, who they are, and once you learn these things, how you might be able to assist in their quest. Bilbo stands in the corridor, leaned against the wall and listening, relieved you are taking control of the situation like this. Classic Amaranth, always knowing what to do in situations like these- and that's why you're his favorite cousin, despite your peculiar inclination to wishes of adventure.

It is right after a lively (albeit incredibly messy) supper that a stiff knocking echoes from the front door. 

"He is here," announces Gandalf the Grey, and you see a flash of apprehension cross his wizened face. You rise and head to the door, nodding briefly at Bilbo as he twiddles his thumbs in an armchair nearby, having been in a miserable emotional state since the raiding of his pantry began, and tug your vest straight as move to greet this new, apparently important arrival. The round door swings open with its usual low creak and you are nearly frozen by the sight of a dwarf, one late to the party it seems. He just radiates greatness and is clearly the noble Thorin Oakenshield who has been described to you by two of the other dwarves, Fili and Kili.

 You bow to him respectfully, but he doesn't acknowledge the gesture at all and merely walks in, complaining to Gandalf about having difficulty finding Bilbo's home as he casually hands you his navy cloak to hang up. You are quite unimpressed and so, scowling at the way he brushed you off twice just now, toss the cloak back into his arms and cut off Gandalf with an exasperated, "The coat pegs are just yonder, your lordliness," before heading back to the dining room, shaking your head at the behavior of the leader of this Company.

Your First Impression of Him (YFIOH): He's rather haughty and standoffish, you suppose, considering the way he greeted you. All in all- you're certainly not impressed in the slightest by this supposedly-great King Under the Mountain.

His First Impression of You (HFIOY): You're not very respectful, he thinks. Along with that, you're even shorter than he is- a bit of a laughing factor considering Gandalf has just now informed him how eager you are to go on this journey with the Company. Will you even be able to ride a pony, you're so small? he wonders, rather amusedly, although he's still annoyed at how you talked back to him a moment ago.

Fili:

You go to the Shire with your grandfather Balin for the final meeting about the quest to Erebor. You get to meet your grand-uncle for the first time (Dwalin) and he's certainly a pleasant fellow. Mr. Bilbo Baggins, the Company's potential burglar, seems to be at his wits' end and very confused at to what on earth is going on and why there are three dwarves in his home, so you pull him aside for a moment to ask him if he's alright- and then there's another knock on the door. 

You offer him a hasty smile, offering, "I'll get it, fetch yourself a bit of brandy and a roll," and he nods meekly before scampering off to the pantry. You open the door and lo and behold, a pair of dwarves stand before you with agreeable smiles. 

"Fili-" 

"-and Kili-" 

"-at your service," they say, introducing themselves with the typical, polite hello, and you bow in return, replying dutifully, "And Mhede at yours." 

"Is this the home of Master Boggins?" You can't help but let out a delightful peal of laughter at Kili's mistake. 

"Erm, Master Baggins, yes. Do come in, we've barely begun supper." As they enter the home of your hobbit host, the one of the pair with long and braided blond hair smiles cordially at you, his gaze flicking down and up again, examining you. You smile back and follow he and his brother into the small dining hall, where they are greeted gladly by Balin and Dwalin.

YFIOH: You are intrigued by his interest in you, and also by his very attractive beard.

HFIOY: He is pleasantly surprised by your beauty, especially your lovely smile and your laugh, such a delightful sound.

Kili: 

Being an elleth of the working class in Imladris can be a particularly boring existence, which is why you have decided to move temporarily to Eryn Galen and study the vast histories of Middle Earth in the forest kingdom's grand libraries. You are not expecting, however, on the very day of your arrival in Mirkwood (as Eryn Galen is now often called due to the darkness seeping into its woods as of late) for there to be such hustle and bustle! It seems that trespassers, thirteen in count and all dwarves, were attacked by monstrous giant spiders off the old road but have been rescued and apprehended by a nearby guard patrol. You, suspicious that this could be your destiny calling (you'll see...), somehow manage to convince your host the king to let you venture down to the captives' cells and question them. Perhaps he's hoping you'll be able to extract a bit of useful information on why they're here, you being a charming, beautiful elleth and all. And so you make your way to the prisons, walking as silent as a wolf in the mist as you turn the corner of the narrow walkway, then nodding politely to the guards on duty. The sound of very soft humming reaches your delicate elven ears, and as you pass the first cell, it halts and you pause.

Backtracking a few feet, you feel a pair of curious eyes on you and turn to face the barred door. In the farthest shadowy corner of the cell sits a dwarf with long brown hair the shade of hickory, a small braid on either side of his head, and chocolate-brown eyes that gleam in the dimness as he meets your gaze. For a heartbeat, both of you as still as a deer caught unawares in its grazing, but then the dwarf looks away and resumes his humming, acting as though your arrival means next-to-nothing to him. You tilt your head curiously, studying him with an observant gaze, noting especially the way in which he holds his shoulders and chin (confident) and the way he keeps stealing glances at you as is he's either wishing you'd go or wishing you'd speak. 

And so speak, you do, inquiring, "I don't suppose you'd be willing to tell me how you've ended up here?" The dwarf merely shrugs, acting indifferent, but you catch a hesitation in his humming. You let out a disappointed sigh- exaggerated, to catch his attention -and lower yourself to sit on the shallow steps beside the cell door, so close to it the dwarf could reach out and touch you through the bars if he desired to.

You listen for a good half-minute to the song he's so excessively concentrated on and recognize it, your heart skipping at the realization. You abruptly join in with the words, your voice smooth and graceful: "All sorrow fail and sadness at the Mountains King's return." 

The dwarf stiffens and finally speaks, asking with poorly-concealed astonishment, "How do you know that song?" You smile to yourself, keeping your gaze away from him to hide your satisfaction. 

"A long time ago, when I was only a child, my mother foresaw me aiding a company of dwarves on a quest to reclaim their home. She taught me that song so I would know when those I am destined to help appear." You lean closer to the bars, lowering your conspiratorily. "No one knows of your quest but me... although King Thranduil likely has his suspicions. As my mother, may the Valar protect her soul, prophesized the night she passed away, I will help you- first to escape, and then however else I can." The dwarf fairly lunges forward and grips the bars on the cell door, his face barely a foot from yours. His expression is one of hope and delight and he whispers something to you in a language you don't understand, but it sends a shiver down your spine. 

"I cannot let you out just yet- but tomorrow evening there is to be a splendid festival to celebrate the stars, the things of light the wood-elves love the most. There will be music and feasting and merriment- and very few guards on duty. Then I can-" You cut yourself off, startled, as the dwarf has just reached through the bars and grabbed your hand. His grip is firm but gentle and you allow it to stay as you finish laying out the framework of your plan, making it up on the spot and hoping silently that it will work. You've barely finished and have gently let go of his hand when one of the guards appears before you and says you must leave now, the king summons you to the throne room to be formally welcomed. You nod and rise briskly, telling him you'll be just one more minute, and when he backs away with a dutiful nod, you turn back to the dwarf with the vibrant chocolate-brown eyes and promise to return tomorrow. 

"Listen for Tirnethêl. If it is said, I am just around the corner." 

"Tirnethêl." The way he repeats your name sends a sudden pulse into your heart, but you ignore the feeling and reply, "And to whom do I come calling?" 

A smile stretches across his handsome (as you've decided by now he is quite handsome) face and he wastes no time in responding with grandeur -although quietly, so the guards don't hear-, "Kili of the House of Durin, son of Dís, nephew to the great Thorin Oakenshield." That's it- Thorin Oakenshield, this truly is your destiny arriving. 

You give a low, teasing whistle and say in parting, "That is quite an impressive title, Kili of the House of Durin, son of Dís, nephew to the great Thorin Oakenshield. Farewell until we meet again, and may your heart be blessed with the strength of your noble ancestors." And with that, you leave him staring after you in much awe, your heart racing for reasons entirely unbeknownst to you at this time.

YFIOH: You weren't expecting your destiny to be so handsome and in awe of you, but you're definitely not complaining! Now, to fine-tune your strategy for aiding the dwarves' escape- and, as a side pondering, to try and understand this startlingly-sudden new yearning towards Kili.

HFIOY: He's starstruck. You, an elf more beautiful and kind and witty than any lady of any race he's ever seen, claiming to be destined to aide the Company and promising to do all she can to see their quest through? He's entirely willing to believe it if it allows him to woo you, the stunning Tirnethêl who has already begun to capture his heart.

Bilbo Baggins:

You are the first dwarf to show up to the planned meeting at a certain Mr. Bilbo Baggins' cozy home of Bag End in the Shire. 

"Aili, at your service," you introduce yourself with a polite bow, but the hobbit standing before you just stares at you in shock for a long moment without replying. You tilt your head in curiosity at his confusion and he finally nods back with the rushed proper response. It doesn't take you long to realize that he has no clue whatsoever what's going on, you take pity on him and explain everything you know of the Company's history and purpose. Less than a minute after you finish and poor Master Baggins is still reeling from the dismal tale, a dwarf you've met a few times before arrives, Dwalin, and the hobbit collects himself enough to answer the door, thanking you for preparing him for what he's about to face. He still isn't happy at all about hosting this gathering, one he claims to never have agreed to- and you believe him, as he doesn't seem like the sort to long for adventure -he is at least more knowledgeable of what's to come.

YFIOH: Despite his initial shocked disdain of a stranger appearing at his house (you) with such an explanation, you find him very polite and courteous, and you can also see he's a bit shy.

HFIOY: He finds you to be delightfully kind and honest and your manners, well, they are assuredly something to praise! He's never heard of a dwarf with manners as excellent as yours, and he's certainly glad to have you be the first to arrive for this unexpected meeting.

Legolas:

When the Ringwraiths go after your brother Frodo in the attack upon you and your fellow hobbits in the Weathertop ruins, you leap forward to protect him, taking the blow aimed for his heart instead. The demonic blade stabs straight through your lower chest and you crumple in excruciating pain. The next few days are only a blur of slowly-growing agony and visions of Sauron's terrible eye as you are carried from place to place, from on someone's back to upon another's horse, and so on and so forth. Just as you feel the pain growing too strong for you to battle any more, it begins to falter and fade, and soon you are left only with an ache where the wound was and a fierce need for rest and water. You sleep peacefully for a solid two days straight, but when you wake, you're in a bed you've never laid in before, in a room you've never seen before. Your brother is sitting in a chair beside you, wringing his hands nervously. 

You're about to inquire to him as to where you are, but he speaks first, a wide smile appearing on his face, "Firiel! Oh, you're finally awake, just wait until Sam and Pippin and Merry hear about this, we've been so worried-" 

You struggle to sit up a bit and cut him off anxiously, "Frodo, are you alright? Are they alright? What about Aragorn, where is he-"

 "All of your friends are well, my lady." The voice is not one you recognize and your gaze turns to an elf standing in the doorway, looking upon you with a gentle smile. 

"Firiel, this is Legolas, he's here to help decide what's to happen with the Ring." You offer a gracious smile back towards the elf as you take in his quite-handsome appearance and make a quip to him as to if you were able to, you would bow to him in greeting. You go to make a promise to do so later, but he just laughs kindly and waves off the formalities as Frodo glances suspiciously between you two. Always the overprotective brother, he gets up and shoos Legolas out of the room, insisting you need to rest and whatever, and you call farewell to them both as you lie back down, beginning to wonder what will happen to the Ring, indeed?

HFIOY: He admires your bravery and loyalty to your brother in the face of such evil, and also appreciates your quick, polite humor. He can sense the chemistry so suddenly evident between you and him, but he isn't at all sure what to do about it yet.

YFIOH: He's very tall, that's the first thing you noticed, and the second is the electricity kindling silently in the air as you spoke to him. What an abrupt, strange connection- you have no idea what it is, nor what to do with it.

Thranduil:

Your father was Thranduil's advisor and closest friend for a long while before he died in the same war that took the life of the king's father. You have known him for centuries and stepped into the role of royal advisor just recently (read: about 300 years ago). You are even closer to him than your father was and sometimes it feels as if you can read his thoughts and vice versa, even though neither of you has any powers of foresight.

His Current Impression of You (HCIOY): He sees you as a kind, loyal, wise advisor and a wonderful friend, though secretly he's grown to admire you in the ways of the heart.

Your Current Impression of Him (YCIOH): You find him agreeably unpretentious and honorable- although he can be quite stubborn at times- and, secretly, you think he's very attractive.

Lindir:

You, as a princess of Imladris, distantly know Lindir as your father's adviser and nothing more- until this morning. You walk into the library, searching for a novel you (somehow) haven't read yet to entertain you through the next few hours, and find Lindir nearly buried in piles of reports, legislature, records, and other such business. You head over and examine the heaps of papers with a concerned frown, laying a gentle hand on his shoulder. He startles and leaps up, bowing to you as is expected, but you shake your head sympathetically and apologize for spooking him. 

"Would you appreciate a bit of help?" you offer with a kind smile, truly meaning to assist him if he agrees. You've had an extensive education and know how to tend to most of these documents. He blanches for a moment, but then bows his head again and thanks you very gratefully. You sit down beside him at the long oaken table and begin to shift through a few sheets you've grabbed from a stack to your left. Nothing too difficult, just calculations for the cost of wine and dinner for a festival celebrating the moon from the last week. And so you settle in your chair, the soft breathing of Lindir beside you rather calming as you get to work.

HFIOY: He's passed you around the palace before and thinks you to be very sweet, gentle, and clever, not to mention quite beautiful.

YFIOH: You think he's hardworking, intelligent, and an excellent listener, although a bit shy.

Elrond:

You have always loved the stars. Growing up, you were rather a misfit in Imladris, being the only dwarf there and raised by a rather eccentric but lovely astronomer elleth who took pity on you, a child orphaned soon after birth, and adopted you as her own. She treated you wonderfully and raised you to be the best version of yourself you could ever be. She sadly passed away recently, but due to your closeness with her, your lifelong dream has always been to work as an astronomer for the higher-ups in the world, like she did. And just yesterday, in fact, you were offered her now-vacant position as the Royal Astronomer of Imladris. Of course, you accepted, and so now you help to carry crates of your belongings and various furniture as you move into the palace. Lord Elrond himself even comes out to greet you as you move into your new chambers, an honor you're quite psyched to receive. He is polite and charming and you engage in a lively -yet brief- discussion on the alignments of two major planets last night before he has to attend to other business and you have to continue sorting out your living arrangements.

HFIOY: He finds you to be endearing, enthusiastic, intelligent, and- although he won't fully admit it to himself- quite attractive.

YFIOH: He seems (to you) polite, charming, cordial, just, and gentle.

Gimli:

You arrive at the meeting in Imladris around the same time as the invited dwarven delegates and graciously allow them to enter the kingdom first with a polite nod of the head and a warm smile. You hold a quick, cheerful reunion with your brother Aragorn (a Ranger and secret heir to Gondor's throne, like you) before leaning against a stocky white pillar to observe the conference. Throughout, you keep noticing how one of the dwarves keeps staring not-so-subtly at you. Every time you catch his gaze, he becomes silently flustered and immediately looks away again. As the tension in the pavilion grows, your hand comes to rest on the hilt of your sword at your hip- and as you do so, you notice the dwarf doing the same with his axe, leaned up against the side of his seat. When Frodo Baggins declares he will be the one to take the One Ring on its perilous journey to Mordor, you and your brother are the first to offer your allegiance and service on his quest, along with the elven prince of Mirkwood and the dwarf who couldn't (and still can't) seem to keep his eyes off you.

HFIOY: He's starstruck by your rugged beauty, and you're apparent bravery, civility, and loyalty, qualities of which he greatly admires in anyone.

YFIOH: You are amused and intrigued by his staring at you, and you also find his tough exterior surprisingly endearing.

Merry:

You are traveling to Imladris from the far Northwest when you happen to cross paths with a Ranger and a band of four hobbits. 

You give a polite bow in greeting and smile kindly, introducing yourself cordially, "Kif, at your service." The hobbits and the Ranger all bow in return, replying with their own names (except the Ranger, but that isn't much of a surprise to you). One of the shorter fellows seems the most interested in you and you notice how he stands up a bit straighter when you mention how you all seem to be heading in the same direction, and so why not join forces? All of the hobbits support your suggestion heartily- especially the one who seems so taken with you -and so the five become six and the journey goes on.

HFIOY: He's deemed you (from this first interaction) to be very brave and strong to be venturing around the world alone- not to mention he thinks you're very pretty.

YFIOH: You find his smile quite appealing, and as you continue your path, chatting alongside him, you decide his clearly-mischievous attitude and zest for life endearing.

Pippin:

You have lived in Gondor all your life, seeing many visitors come and go from the kingdom your father rules over in the stead of a king, but never have you seen a sight like the one before you today: a hobbit and Gandalf the Grey bringing news of your older brother's death while saving the smaller fellow and his friend. As you break down in tears at your other brother Faramir's side, you feel a set of arms wrap around you in a tight, comforting hug. To your surprise, it is one of the hobbits, also tearful, who has moved to console you. 

"He was a good man, he really was," the hobbit says softly and you nod through your sorrow, memories of all the good times you had with Boromir flooding through your mind. Your father, not much of a sympathetic man, asks Faramir to bring you out of the throne room to grieve somewhere where you won't make a disturbance, and so you follow your brother without a word, the hobbit staying behind with Gandalf.

HFIOY: All he's really seen is that you are very beautiful and that you care for your family very much, but he would like to get to know you better should he find the opportunity.

YFIOH: Though you don't know much yet, he seems to be quite kind and sweet, a conclusion drawn from his willingness to comfort you, a complete stranger- and, well, it's hard not to notice his exceptionally short stature.

Sam:

You grew up with Samwise Gamgee, Frodo Baggins, and Meriadoc Brandybuck, along with your brother Pippin, maturing and learning about your small world of the Shire. Whereas your brother and Merry are very close, you have always felt more drawn to Samwise. And, well, Frodo too, but especially Sam. To be perfectly honest, as of late you've been feeling something for Sam other than just friendship. One morning while assisting Merry and Pippin with a burglary from Farmer Maggot, you bump into Sam and Frodo, who seem to be going somewhere in somewhat of a hurry. 

Three ears of corn tumble from your arms and you greet the pair brightly as you bend down to pick them up, "Why, hello Sam! Hello, Frodo! Where are you off to?" 

"Hello, Magnolia, we, erm, we've got to get going, and quickly, you see, we can't really stop and chat-" 

You grin and interrupt Frodo with a well-meaning, "Well, then we'll just come with you!" and, of course, end up tagging along. Persuading your trouble-making brother and his mischievous friend to come along too isn't difficult, and then the five of you are on your way! Little do you know what grand adventures lie ahead...

HCIOY: He's secretly been head-over-heels for you for years but is too shy to tell you. He thinks you're absolutely amazing in every way and even -dare I say?- perfect.

YCIOH: To you, he is kind, thoughtful, sweet, fiercely loyal, generous, humble, handsome, and (dare I say it again?) perfect. Truthfully, you're not all that surprised at these newfound feelings for him.

Frodo:

You are summoned to Imladris with your brother Legolas for an emergency council to discuss what could become the fate of all of Middle Earth. You are currently wandering the wildlands of the world quite close to the valley kingdom and so arrive a few days early, but also just after the princess Arwen brings in a very ill, Ringwraith-poisoned hobbit. You, an expert healer, rush to the poor fellow's aid and tend to him nonstop until his fever breaks and he finally opens his eyes. He appears confused as to how he got here, but not at all concerned by you, a stranger, sitting calmly at the end of his bed. In fact, he seems rather... delighted at the sight of you. You share a nice conversation about how he should be fine to get up and move around in just a few hours and he tells you all about his perilous journey so far, and little by little, you get to know each other.

HFIOY: You are like an angel, the first thing he sees when he opens his eyes once breaking free of the wickedness wounded into him by that Ringwraith's blade. He is enchanted and awestruck by you, a beautiful, kind, witty elleth, as his caretaker.

YFIOH: You don't know much yet, but he seems quite kind and courteous so far.

Faramir:

When the Fellowship of the Ring arrives in Rohan, your homeland, you neglect to hold any hope for their cause. As of late, your happiness has quickly been spiraling downhill from everything to do with Grima Wormtongue's existence to your uncle Théoden's psyche falling under the control of evil forces and your dear brother Éomer's crooked banishment. But now, as you watch Gandalf the White expel the malicious power of Saruman from your uncle's mind, you feel your heart flood with faith that the world may be a better place than you've been thinking of it as. And so you join the Fellowship's quest, believing that no matter what it takes, you will aide them in their quest in return for returning Théoden to sanity. Besides, you've always dreamed of achieving greater things and being a hero, so venturing to destroy the greatest evil the land has ever seen calls to you. 

Eventually, the group splits and you end up in Gondor with Pippin and Gandalf, bearing confirmation of the sad news of Boromir's death to his father as his only remaining son, Faramir, watches with dread. The ginger-haired man, who seems about your age, retreats from the throne room in despair after Denethor II admits in his grief that he would rather have Faramir be dead. You recoil at his father's lack of pity and follow Faramir, feeling a strong urge to comfort him. You find him leaning against the wall in a nearby alcove and hug him silently as he fiercely pretends not to cry. A while passes before he collects himself, but once he does, he turns the charm on, bowing and introducing himself as formally expected. 

"My lady Éalryth, I thank you for finding and comforting me in my time of weakness. I only wish to have met you in a better state, as I would have greeted you properly long before now." You blush as he bows and kisses your hand in a flirtatious manner that sends a chill up your spine. 

You smile kindly and bow as well -preferring it to curtsying, a greeting of which you've never mastered- then reply, "I am only glad to see you smiling now, even after your father's complete idiocy. I wonder, have you met Pippin yet, he's quite a nice fellow, will surely up your mood..." And so the conversation goes on and on and you begin to bond with Faramir in that little, shady alcove.

HFIOY: He sees you as caring, empathetic, and -now after he's had a real look at you- breathtakingly attractive.

YFIOH: Obviously, he cares deeply about his family and is not afraid to accept comfort after such a loss, and you admire that.

Boromir:

You are summoned, along with your cousin Gimli, to the elven kingdom of Imladris to discuss the fate of the One Ring. During the meeting, as things are getting quite tense, one of the mortal men, the Steward's eldest son, you think, mutters something in broken Sindarin against dwarves (your kind). You, a highly intelligent individual, have spent years learning the sophisticated elven language as simply a past time, and now you feel a glimmer of pride as you leap up and immediately fire a snarky response back in crisp, eloquent Sindarin.

HFIOY: You have irritated him with your quick retort, but he's a little impressed by your intellect.

YFIOH: You are highly unimpressed and think him to be quite snobby.

Aragorn:

Lord Elrond of Imladris has called you, along with your nephew Legolas, to the valley realm he rules over for a gravely serious gathering. As you know due to the fleet-footed messenger who was sent to convey the request, the fate of all Middle Earth could be decided through this conference, and so you ride day-in and day-out, reaching Rivendell (as it's called in the common tongue, Westron) in record time with a full week to spare before any others of the summoned folk are due to arrive. Your nephew, who had been traversing the lands nearby when he received the summons, is there to greet you warmly, along with three exuberant hobbits and one man who stays silent and is not quite mortal. The hobbits, upon learning of who you are and your stature as the sister of the king of Eryn Galen, bow appropriately before launching busily into a long account of their journey to reach here. 

About a full hour later, when the trio have finally finished and head off to visit their fellow hobbit and friend, Frodo Baggins, who is healing from a bad wound and apparently has something to do with all these grim happenings, you manage to pause the stranger as he tries to slip away. When he reluctantly comes into the light, you easily deduce him to be the mysterious Ranger known to most as Strider- yet you also let him know that you're aware of his true name and identity, Aragorn, the rightful heir to the throne of Gondor. Proper introductions are made and, by some quick matching of interests, soon you are walking along the paths of the royal garden and chatting pleasantly as if you were old friends.

HFIOY: He is very observant and so has noticed a number of intriguing and endearing bits of your personality, especially your gentleness and sharp wit hidden beneath your serious demeanor.

YFIOH: You have heard tales of this man descended from the true royalty of Gondor, but up close, he is more calm, amicable, and light-hearted than you've previously believed- certainly a lovely surprise in your book.

Bard:

You have been good friends with Bard for almost as long as you can remember. You live only a few houses away from him and his three children, all of whom you adore, and will more often than not bring your professions' supplies over there to watch the younger of the kids while you work. Ever since his wife died (despite him never being that close to her), you've noticed Bard has been lonely and have even toyed with the thought of confessing your long-harbored feelings to him as a risky move to cheer him up. Sigrid has, as of late, suspected your secret and has been subtly joking around with and hinting at you and her father forming a relationship. You doubt that will happen, unfortunately, and just try to go on with your normal life as if everything is fine and you are hiding nothing.

YCIOH: You think he's everything you could ever want in a partner and more.

HCIOY: You have been his closest friend, a great confidant, comforter, teaser, and advice-giver for a long time now-  but he only sees you as his best friend, nothing more... yet.

Haldir:

You are the princess of Lothlorien, the only child of Galadriel and Celeborn, expected to act 'properly' and very feminine by the royal court- but nope! You are a wild spirit, much preferring to wear a tunic and trousers than a dress, and adventuring through the forests of your homeland all day is your favorite pastime. Haldir, the head of the guard of your kingdom, was assigned to keep track of and protect you decades ago, and since then, you've become the best of friends. You've wondered if your parents set the two of you up all those years ago, hoping for you to settle down, but you value your independence too much to consider the idea. Although, if there's anyone you would want to marry, it would be Haldir...

HCIOY: He considers you his princess before anything else, as keeping you safe is his main duty- but he is also glad to call you his friend. Sometimes he wishes he could say you are more than just his friend, but he always brushes away that hope as impossible, due to some fixed and many unpredictable factors.

YCIOH: He is your sarcastic, brave, adventurous, and protective best friend, and you are so happy to know him as such.

Éomer:

Being kidnapped by half-trolls is not the most pleasant of activities, so you've recently learned. You caught the trio robbing your home in the Shire about two weeks ago and were unable to fight them off, and since then, it's been nothing but riding, your hands tied to the reins as you're jostled up and down all day along the beaten road. As you now try to untie the ropes holding you to this horse stake with a sharp rock you've found, a shout comes from one of your captors as figures appear out of the twilight. You give a yell and one comes toward you, his sword raised. Once he sees your predicament, he has the quivering half-trolls surrounded by his comrades as he carefully frees you.

 You bow in thanks and he gives a polite nod in return as you propose your appreciation, "I offer you my thanks, good sir." 

"Think nothing of it, miss, it is my duty to protect these lands." You tilt your head as he dismounts his horse and ask, "And what lands may these be, sir?"

He looks surprised in the torchlight and replies, "These lands are Rohan's, miss."

Your eyes widen and your knees begin to wobble as you take a deep breath, shocked at how far the half-trolls have taken you in just two weeks. "Are you alright, miss..." 

You compose yourself and give your name, responding as calmly as you can manage, "Rowena Gamgee, sir. And yes, I'm alright, it's only that I come from the Shire and have never been so far from home before. It's a stunning realization." He nods and offers you this: how about you join his group of wrongly-exiled warriors, called the Riders of Rohan, and soon as he can he'll figure out the best way to get you home. You consider this a moment, then take your savior's hand and he swings you up swiftly to sit before him on his steed. Home is behind, the world ahead, you muse and clutch the reins as the horse lurches forward into the darkening night.

HFIOY: You, a tenacious, charming, wonderfully polite hobbit so far away from your home, intrigue him greatly. He's quite keen to get to know you better when he gets the chance.

YFIOH: You are grateful to this tall (and fairly handsome) stranger who has come to your aid, and also quite curious about his proposition- is he really willing to take you all the way home?

Bofur:

You were born and grew up in the great kingdom of Erebor before Smaug, that wicked worm, drove your people out. By some great luck, you and your three brothers all survived that villain's invasion and have been wandering the world as a steady group of four ever since. When the summons arrive from Thorin Oakenshield, the rightful King Under the Mountain, to join him on a quest to reclaim your old home, you bet you're the first the volunteer and convince the rest of your family to step up as well (though it doesn't take much persuasion). At the good Master Baggins' home in the Shire, at the gathering of the Company for the first time, you notice, out of the corner of your eye, a certain smiley, amazing-hat-wearing fellow of a dwarf glancing at you frequently. And so you, ever the bold, introduce yourself the instant you get the chance. His name is Bofur and he can't seem to keep his eyes off you- a trifle peculiar, yet entertaining, you think, and you wonder why this could be.

HFIOY: You are more lovely in every way imaginable than any other lady he's ever seen. He already knows you're his One, but he has no idea how to act on that information... yet.

YFIOH: Playful yet patient, cleverly amusing yet knows when to be serious, kind and wears his heart quite directly on his sleeve.

The next chapter: He Defends You