[meme] The everyone survived AU

[goldenplaits]

Due to recent events in the movie world, it seemed like we needed one of these again...

THE ARDA AU MEME


{source}

All the AUs! With classics as the obligatory and all important

> EVERYONE LIVED AU. Maybe you're at Thorin's festive coronation or a drinking game between Boromir and Haldir after the end of the War, or Fëanor and Thingol finally talk to each other. Maybe Belladonna comes with her son on adventures, or Maedhros spends some very awkward hours at Elrond's wedding. U know the drill.
> but let's not forget the staple COFFEESHOP AU either
> or the no less important WHAT IF AU: What if the Silmarils were glowing bunnies? What if Bard hadn't managed to take down Smaug? What if Maeglin had not betrayed Gondolin, what if Galadriel had accepted the One Ring? What if Sam had a giant afro?
> and really any other AUs that you can think of.


As a note, since not everyone has seen BOFA yet and some people care about not being spoiled, please make a note in your top level comment/the subject line of a comment if you might bring up spoilers in threads or don't want to be spoiled, something like "bofa spoilers yes" or "bofa spoilers no".

Comments

Glorfindel

[thebalrogslayer]

[AU where no one steals his horse canon what canon I'm surprised that was never retconned.

Open to everyone and anyone. STE AU is available but also comes in other flavours for modern day AUs (specify if you want STE or I'll assume otherwise). I'm also up for any non-modern AUs I really like AUs okay.

Also I've seen BOFA so spoilers are fine.

in which glorfindel happens to visit mirkwood...! (hope it's ok)

[lasdithen]

[ Oh and ah and many elves have been in a tizzy all around Mirkwood for a visit of most renowned guest. Today, today is the day the balrog slayer comes, Glorfindel the hero who has returned to Middle-Earth today graces Mirkwood with his presence. While not particularly keen on the history of the Noldor, this particular story has reached even a great many ears here and young marchwardens strive to be in the tiptop shape for his arrival, presenting well and behaving even better. Worthy of praise from such a fine elf.

Legolas too is young, and he too acts the part of a marchwarden, even if he's barely half the size of the shortest of them. Except he defends the Kingdom of Green Leaves and its King from the evil touch of the maids, shrieking like possessed as he runs along the winding halls of his father's realm. A great escape- duck here, use the railing to slide all the way down the stairs quicker, then the last stretch to reach the gates - open now, for no threat comes from the forest - and he vanishes amongst the trees. If he's difficult to find in Thranduil's Halls, he becomes impossible to find among trees. Ever restless child of the leaves in which he hides, and which provide him protection from harm and... sight!

However unlike the actual marchwardens, he does not know of the guest coming their way. Fancy looking and very, very bright, in a way he had not seen before ever in his very short life so far. So the sight of him riding along the path is startling, and perched on a high branch Legolas watches him pass by, then after only a moment's consideration he decides to stalk his progress. Like predator hunting prey, a great cat except still lacking the easy grace of such creature, limbs too awkward, motions a little clumsy.

One thought tumbles about in his head: ada will be proud if he intercepts a trespasser for sure! And that is the goal he keeps in mind while moving - quietly, silently as far as he knows, but is he really so quiet? - from branch to branch. ]

Hell yesss

[thebalrogslayer]

[The journey across the mountains was fairly leisurely, as peaceful as it can be. But spring is turning into summer, and on the East side, Glorfindel kissed his companions farewell and promised to meet them in Lórien before the summer ends. He has an appointment to meet.

They had agreed to the visit through letters passed back and forth the year before. Glorfindel would come and bring his expertise as a captain of the guard, and in return he'd have the chance to explore a little more of Middle-earth. Imladris may be his home, but what a fool he would be not to take the chance to explore more of the world while the opportunity lies at his feet.

Still, it has been a little while since he left his companions, and while the peace and quiet was nice to start with, it's now starting to grate on him. He's ready to have someone to talk to again. The loudness of the forest has been his companion along the Elven Road, and so the sudden change in tone is noticeable.

So, he has a trail. Someone from the king's guard? A noise in the trees draws his attention, but he doesn't turn his head, just listening. No, not a guard. Or hopefully not. If this is there standard then he won't be getting to Lorien until next summer.

Then who? A subtle glance towards the trees and he catches a glimpse of blonde hair. Hmm. He has slowed his horse almost to a standstill, so he dismounts, walking alongside him instead, waiting for them to make their move - or a mistake.]

\o/

[lasdithen]

[ And sooner or later a mistake does come, Legolas not quite yet so graceful a creature to move as silently as the true marchwardens do. Though he is fast among the tree tops, and he is difficult to catch if he puts his mind to it, but it all has its limits. And he misjudges the strength of a branch, the weight of his step, and he crumbles down several metres before his fall is stopped by a larger branch. It bounces a couple of times when he lands on it stomach first, doubled over and... quite in the plain sight of the prey he wanted to stalk.

...

An awkward moment of silence follows as he simply stares, mortified, but then barely a second later and as fast as he's only able Legolas scrambles to his feet again, ignoring the soreness he feels all along his body. He stands on the branch straight, legs spread and planted firmly, hands on hips, acting for the world to see - or well, just the elf before him and the trees around them - that none of that clumsiness has happened at all.

Clearly, denial will wipe it from the memory of all! Or perhaps make them believe it was all but their imagination. ]

Trespasser, what do you seek here?

[ Proud and strong he wished to sound, yet his voice comes out a little tinnier than that, what with having just hit himself in the belly. To his credit though, he neither cries nor even as much as tears up. Ignoring pain for the sake of duty, ada would be most proud! ]

[thebalrogslayer]

[That was not the kind of mistake that Glorfindel was waiting or hoping for. He darts forward, fast, but not fast enough - he's too far away to catch the elfling as he falls. All of that practice with Elrond's twin sons clearly has come to naught.

A tree branch catches him for Glorfindel, and the balrog slayer winces in sympathy. Still, better that than the ground. It'll hurt, yes, but less than the additional fall to the forest floor. And then the elfling scrambles to his feet, and Glorfindel can't help but raise an eyebrow, a bad habit he's picked up from Erestor and Elrond. Apparently elflings in the Greenwood are built to bounce.]

I am no trespasser, I come with letters from Lord Elrond of Rivendell. [Well, that's true. Sometimes it's nice just to be Glorfindel rather than the Balrog Slayer. He breaks into a bright smile, the sunshine chasing away the clouds of concern.] Would the March Warden care to see my credentials and then escort me to his King?

Liam in canon Rivendell mwahaha

[arrowpoint]

[It had to take a very strong hit to the head to knock out an Elf. Unfortunately, such a lucky blow was given to Legolas by an Orc on his latest excursion with Aragorn. Unconscious for a few days now, the Elf finally stirs.

Unfortunately, he's a bit... addled at the moment. Liam is more than confused about the splitting headache and the unfamiliar surroundings. He gets up probably quicker than he should have, and makes his way out into the hall to find out what was going on.]

Dude, what the hell...?

Oh my god no banned

[thebalrogslayer]

[Glorfindel had been checking up on one of his guards when he encountered Aragorn still sitting by Legolas' bedside. It had taken a bit of creative bullying and a promise to sit by the woodland prince's side to get the young (all right, maybe not so young by human standards) ranger to take to his own bed, and Glorfindel had been returning to take up the vigil when he was startled to find Legolas up and apparently awake.

Although perhaps not fully conscious. What ever the younger elf said, it made no sense, so Glorfindel ignored it, putting his hand on his shoulder and turning him back towards his bed.] You shouldn't be up without Lord Elrond's permission. You've been abed three days.

[He's taller than Gabriel, his grip stronger and firmer, his hair longer and fuller. But these are subtle differences compared to his garb and the sword buckled at his hip, different to the one that Gabriel echoed back in the spring.]

You can't ban him he's hurt! (also going with losing language echo whoops)

[arrowpoint]

[Liam gives him a very confused look, as this guy was speaking what sounded like gibberish. Of course, the person who appears to be Legolas at the moment, is speaking Westron and protesting being touched.]

Whoa what's going on, man?

[The differences are enough that Liam doesn't recognize him as Gabriel right away in his slighty foggy state of mind.]

Where am I? Who are you?

Ban him from moving

[thebalrogslayer]

[At least there's enough familiar words in that second sentence for it to register in Glorfindel's mind as Westron. But why? You'd think if anything after a strike to the head the elf would return to Sindarin. There are other things to worry about right now, though. Like Legolas' apparent confusion.

That must have been some hit.]

Rivendell. Estel - Aragorn - brought you here. [He switches to Westron to match him, to see if that makes things easier.] You should return to bed until Elrond has a chance to look at you.

...Really Liam should be banned from a lot of things. I should admit that.

[arrowpoint]

Rivendell, where's that? Ara-whatnow?

[While Liam doesn't particularly enjoy being led anywhere, he does go back to sit on the bed, since he still hurt from his injury and felt slightly dizzy. He looks down at himself then plucks at his nightshirt.]

What am I wearing? ...and dude, you never answered me, who are--

[Wait. He tilts his head sideways.]

...Gabriel?

Banned from salad certainly

[thebalrogslayer]

[This new manner of speaking is causing Glorfindel a headache. Where Legolas has managed to pick it up is a mystery, but it's hard enough to keep deciphering it, let alone keep up with his questions.

Especially when the questions are so concerning. Glorfindel wishes that Elrond were here: he'd know what to do. Glorfindel has never been a healer - not beyond battle first aid, anyway. But he dare not leave Legolas' side to seek help. When the chance arises he will send for his lord, but for now he needs to concentrate on Legolas.

At least he seems to have stopped babbling now. And is that a name? He frowns, trying to work it out, before he realises that he's left a silence between them and he shakes his head as he sits down on the chair that Aragorn had occupied until half an hour ago.] Glorfindel. You know me. [From tales even if he can't remember meeting him, surely?] I think that hit to your head must be harder than we thought. What can you remember?

...ha. ha. ha. >:|

[arrowpoint]

[Liam takes another moment to look Glorfindel over.]

Yeah I do know you, and you're Gabriel. Gabriel in weird clothes... where did you get that costume, from Ariel?

[If Gabriel was here, it couldn't be too bad. It seemed to be a really nice place actually, but it was still disconcerting to not know where he was. The confused elf stands to look around the room again, though perhaps a bit too quickly as he grabs onto the back of Glorfindel's chair to stay upright.]

...Crap. Did I take my iron pills?

[thebalrogslayer]

[Well now all of the words make sense, but not the overall meaning. At least they're making progress? As the prince stands again, Glorfindel reacts instinctively to steady him when he sways, supporting him.]

Pills of iron? [Why would someone want to take something like that? Perhaps that's why the head injury has done so much damage. Aside from the head injury.

What if the head injury planted some odd memories in Legolas' head? And now he thinks that Glorfindel is this Gabriel? But then who would be Ariel?] Let me fetch Lord Elrond. Stay in your bed.

[arrowpoint]

[Liam pushes him away gently.]

Dude, chill. I just need to sit.

[When Glorfindel mentions going to get somebody else he protests, starting to get frustrated.]

Get who? I don't want to talk to somebody I don't know, I want to know what's going on! Where are we? How did we get here? ...Did you say a "lord"?

[thebalrogslayer]

[What is Glorfindel supposed to be chilling? In this state Legolas needs to come with a translator.]

Yes: Elrond, Lord of the valley. You know him. He's also a healer, he'll be able to help you.

[mining_mole]

[It is late at night and the lights burn low when Maeglin sneaks into the bathhouse, searching it for the presence of another thoroughly before fetching all the utensils that he needs and undressing. It has been day since he had the chance, and though he never quite liked the communal bathing arrangements in Gondolin - people would stare at his inkings, so foreign inside these walls, and he would be reminded of them even more - but now they have become a danger and hazard, because the glamour which Morgoth's lieutenant has put over his wounds and scars only covers so much - his face, and his hands, and parts of his arms. But more than that would set off any person with even a mediocre sense for such deception, and so he has resolved to covering himself instead. But he also needs to get clean, and... well.

This is why he is here now in the middle of the night, carefully slipping into the water, teeth clenched against the sting of hot water against still tender healing skin and welts that will never quite behave as they should again. The soap stings again, though not nearly as badly, and though he aches, relaxation soon seeps into his joints, the comfort of a hot spring, the feeling of being clean and warm and lighter than on the ground making him drowsy... and his healing body demanding rest beyond what he has dared to give it since returning. Beyond what he has been able to give it in a very long time.

And he falls asleep. Hours have passed when he jerks to attention, the first dawn of the morning colouring the sky a touch lighter, and he almost falls and goes under before managing to stand and turn around to clamber out of the pool as quickly as possible so he can cover himself and be gone.]

[thebalrogslayer]

[Last to bed and first to rise. Glorfindel lives with an eternal energy that must come from somewhere - possibly the amount he eats - but while it has it's disadvantages for those around him, it has some advantages for him. His hair might be his crowning glory, but it's a pain in the arse to take care of, and he wants to get it dealt with before the rush of elves preparing for the festival tomorrow. The bathhouse is normally empty this early.

So it's a surprise to find someone already in the water. Glorfindel's arrival seems to have startled him - Maeglin, it's Maeglin, he realises as the other elf starts up. He can't help his eyes flicking to those strange markings on his skin, though his gaze has always been marked by curiosity rather than judgement.

There's something else, though, something hard to make out in the half light of the dawn, until he takes a step closer.]

Maeglin. [Glorfindel closes the distance between them in seconds, grabbing Maeglin by the arms and looking at the cuts on his body in horror. Then he realises what he's done and releases him, his hands groping air for a moment as he seeks a way to stop the younger elf from escaping - his hands? His hands look well enough.] What happened to you?

[mining_mole]

[Valar, no and for a moment he is frozen, too many actions to choose from and all of them futile - run, get back into the water - shove Glorfindel away - he cannot see me. It is only well that he has no weapon on him or he would have used it when Glorfindel grabs him - maybe it would have been better, there is much water to clean up, the other elf would hardly have expected it so he might have succeeded (but how would he have hidden the body, how would he have hidden the deed?) ...just as unlikely as hiding the remainder of cuts and bruises and burns and other forms of maltreatment (no broken bones anymore, they were healed for the impossibility of hiding them) that still scatter his body, scarred over or still healing.

And now Glorfindel has seen them, and while the other lord is airy, he is far from dumb. Explaining them will be no easy task, if it is possible at all, and he will tell others - his uncle at least, and then Idril will hear, and he knows that she already doesn't trust him. She will find out, Turgon will find out, and then...

He remembers watching his father fall.

And there is nowhere to run, not in Gondolin, not in all of Beleriand.

He hisses at the touch of his hands, pulling them away harshly (still healing, still tender, no less harmed than everything else about him, though it cannot be seen) and climbing out of the pool swiftly, stepping away far enough from the other elf for the lingering shadows to obscure most of him before turning to face the blond. It is too late, he has seen what should have stayed hidden (because he cannot answer the questions of who did this without the answer to why he was released, and from there - the Noldor have never trusted those who escaped, for they know well that there are spies and traitors among them. But perhaps he will have to count on the unlikely, that they would believe his lie, now). But perhaps he can still hide the enchantment that lies over his face and hands, because that he cannot explain away no matter how lucky or skilled he would be.]

What happened is over now.

[thebalrogslayer]

[Glorfindel allows Maeglin to pull his hands away and retreat. He's over stepped a boundary, that much is obvious, and he feels a touch of guilt for that, but his worry for Maeglin over rides that entirely. In the shadows he can't see the wounds properly, and he didn't get a good enough look before to tell how old they are, how they were caused. Not by accident, though, he's sure of that at least. There's too much damage for that.]

Have you had them seen too? Over or not, you'll do yourself more damage if you let them be.

[Glorfindel takes a step closer, but keeps a gap between them this time, holding out a hand, offering it to Maeglin. Some of the initial surprise is wearing off and he's starting to think more, but it'll still take a while for him to realise how the wounds avoid the visible parts of his body. And magic was never Glorfindel's strong point; he would never be able to recognise such a well hidden spell as this.]

Please, will you let me see?

[mining_mole]

They have been seen to, and you are no healer.

[He's taking a step back as Glorfindel takes one forward, picking his words carefully - his mind is still racing, but he's a bit calmer now, calm enough to think past the initial panic. Yet even so he cannot think of a way of safely escaping this situation. He will be found out, and it is far, far before a time when that would not be disastrous for Morgoth's plans. Or at least for the part of them that would bring Maeglin any advantages (like surviving. And lordship and Idril's hand, but right this moment, these are very secondary).

No. There must be a way, and until then he must make sure that the older elf will not get a closer look at his wounds. And what he said was no lie - the damage has been seen to, in more sense than one (caused, and evaluated, and furthered, and then after he gave in some of it was healed and other parts hidden). And Glorfindel is no healer.]

[thebalrogslayer]

[As long as they have been seen to. Somehow, Glorfindel isn't completely sure. Not with the way that Maeglin is going out of his way to hide them. Besides, how else can he get him to show them to him when he is so intent on keeping them hidden?]

You cannot keep watch on the ones on your back yourself. [The older elf says, calmly, taking a cautious step forward. He's like a man with a stray cat, gaze fixed on Maeglin, trained for any sign that he's going to try and run.] Let me help you. I may be no healer, but I have cleaned and bandaged wounds before, and I can take care of you better than you can take care of yourself.

[He takes a breath, and then also tries a softer approach:] You must be in a lot of pain.

[mining_mole]

[Three paths lie before him, all equally unlikely to succeed and all burdened with the highest stakes.

He can tell Glorfindel; tell him and hope to convince him that his decision was right and reasonable, and worthy of support or at least of not being busted.

He can tell a story of having escaped, and hope that he will be believed despite all the distrust against returnees already present among the Noldor, that none will wonder about his face and hands.

He can try to silence Glorfindel.

The question is of there is really any chance of success for any of these. And he has no time to think on it. Maybe - in the end, there is no right answer. He'll just pick what seems to buy him the most time before...

It takes effort to not close his eyes against the memory of his parents' deaths. Instead, he shrugs his shoulders, in a carefully relearned movement, ignoring pain and the stiffness in some portions of his left shoulder that would render the motion uneven if he doesn't monitor it closely.] I can take care of myself; I have seen to these up until now, and they are all healing.

[thebalrogslayer]

Healing, or healing well? [Maeglin if all elves should know that even in the hidden city they aren't as far from danger as his uncle would have them believe. Not that Glorfindel truly thinks that they are away from danger, but the princes off heir line have always carried a dangerous strain of pride with them, a strain that keeps Turgon from listening to the advice of his cousin and his daughter and her husband.]

I can't just leave you like this.

[mining_mole]

Healing as well as I may hope.

[Left to his own devices, and with the wounds that he has sustained. Not all of them are made for healing, so to speak.

His eyes go over to his towel for a moment. If he can just - but no, that wouldn't cover nearly enough.] You have left me like this before, only that you knew not of it, and we both will live if you leave me to it again.

[His words are cool, distant, and he only hopes that his motivation to not be seen will be mistaken for pride.]

[thebalrogslayer]

That was not my intention, and had I knowledge of it I would not have left you. [That news disquiets Glorfindel, leaving him ill at ease. He doesn't like to think that Maeglin was alone and injured before.]

All the more reason to let me care for you know. Let me undo the mistakes of the past. I will not tell anyone else, if that is your wish, though I do believe that you should see a healer.