Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

He was at the great dinner table, some kind of festivity going on. Everyone was in a good mood. But he didn't see Loki anywhere. Nor Legolas. Loki had a seat beside him, though. Legolas was not even planned for. But that didn't puzzle him. It was always so, these days. Suddenly there was a shriek. But there was no panic. Laughter followed and he looked to the origin of the shriek to see a lady of his court with her hair a right mess. And in that mess, there was a kitten.

It was a beautiful white kitten that seemed to have jumped onto the lady's head from off the shoulder of another. The shoulder of Loki, passing by on his way to his seat. But looking to Loki, he realised that the kitten had not jumped. A black kitten sat on the shoulder closest to the lady and made strange cackling sounds that might have been laughter if the kitten had been shaped as an elf. So the black kitten had pushed the white kitten off their shoulder. And now the lighter little prankster jumped onto the table and ran towards him, across plates and dishes, disrupting the dinner even more.

But no one really minded. It was too cute to be upset about. And he laughed too, just happy with everything, when the white kitten jumped onto his offered arm, ran up to his shoulder and snuggled into his neck. Loki sat beside him with a kiss and both kittens continued to play all over them until Loki cooingly warned them that there would be no dinner for them if they could not behave themselves while in public.

The black kitten just stuck out his tongue at him.

And then Thranduil woke up, as confused as he had ever been. Why would he dream about kittens? The strangest thing was that it had not felt like just a dream. But it could hardly be a vision of reality, now could it? He could not remember the last time he had laughed, Legolas always had a seat ready for him, even when he was away and why would he ever get kittens? That Loki would talk to kittens did not surprise him, the shapeshifter could easily become a cat himself, after all. But the rest? Strange dream.

But perhaps he should inquire after Loki, anyway. The mage had yet to return from questioning Gollum and it was already morn. Even Gandalf had gone again, leaving the creature in his cells as if his palace was some kind of wizards' inn with storage. What a presumptuous arse. But if Loki, whom Gandalf had 'forbidden' him from letting close to the prisoner, got any important answers, it might be worth it. With that in mind he went down to see whether Loki was still there.

He didn't know what he had expected. Maybe to find Loki yelling or seductively purring or even just staring at the cell containing the creature. But he certainly had not expected the cell to stand wide open with Loki sitting cross-legged inside and an expression of deep thought on his face. So deep, it seemed, that he didn't even hear Thranduil clearing his throat nor see him standing directly in front of him, no two feet away from his face.

Thranduil cleared his throat again, louder this time. Still no reaction. In the end he had to shake Loki by the shoulder to be noticed. The Jotunn jumped at his 'sudden' presence:

“My spring? Apologies, I was caught up thinking.”

“Thinking, by any chance, about the current location of the prisoner supposed to be in here?”

“No, he's long gone. I'm really sorry about that, it certainly wasn't intentional. But actually I was thinking about what he told me. About what the grey wizard asked him. Speaking of which, where is that one?”

“Off. Westwards. Likely as a reaction to something that the creature told him. What were they talking about, Loki?”

“A ring of ancient power. One of its kind. By my understanding: The anchor of evil in this world.”

Thranduil was still reeling. He had no idea how much time had passed, but so much had flitted through his mind. 'It has been found?!' he thought. Actually, he thought that out loud and after an uncomfortable gulp, Loki replied:

“Apparently. At least Gandalf seems to know where it is. Now. The creature told him, I think.”

“But what does he intend to ...? The white council! He will take that matter to the Vale of Imladris. Rivendell, if you have heard of it before.”

“Not really. Wait, I think you ranted about some other elf lord living in such a place one time going through a letter.”

“Yes. Elrond. That letter was a reminder, he and I technically have something to discuss. Have had. Since our return from Yggdrasil.”

“That was not exactly yesterday.”

“I am aware. But I am not his vassal. I won't travel all the way to Imladris, just because he whistled for me to heel.”

“If I turn can take you there within one afternoon.”

“Yes, but it's a matter of principle.”

“Invite him then. See if he comes when you're the one who whistles.”

“That might seem better, but I don't want him to think that he would ever be welcome here.”

“Oh, by the Norns, what is the matter between you two?”

“History between the Sindarin and Noldor, different world views... various matters, really. I don't appreciate being looked down upon. He thinks me haughty and greedy for what happened between me and Thror. I think he fools the crowd into thinking him wise with cryptically spoken advice, but see no true wisdom behind that. Also he is far too close to Gandalf and hangs on his lips like a devoted pet. He is a good healer, I can give him that, and he knows his way around a blade. But that does not warrant the moral high ground he always sees himself on.”

“So you see him as sanctimonious.”

“Exactly.”

“You are quite proud, though.”

“Some pride is justified. But I was never driven by greed and take the association as a great insult he has yet to apologise for.”

“I see. Do you have any neutral grounds to meet on? Or can you maybe send an emissary in your stead? It would still make a point to him, clarifying that he can't summon a king and that he is not worth you time, but you could actually get that exchange over with.”

“Neutral grounds? Maybe Lorien… But Galadriel would probably think us both childish for the inconvenience.”

Loki pointedly didn't comment.

“An emissary then. I can instruct Legolas today.”

“Legolas? Why would you send him?”

“Because this is no longer about nothing. The One Ring has surfaced again. Maybe I should even go myself after all... But I can't leave my people headless. Certainly not now.”

“But you can't send Legolas, either. He isn't fit to represent you!”

“I love you, Loki, but don't speak of him like that. And weren't you getting along better now?”

“You're right, we were. Right until he found out that you and I are going to have a child together. I can even understand that. Maybe it would be good for him, if you sent him on this mission. It would show him that you value and trust him and think highly of him. But the problem remains that he has no experience with diplomacy, nor intrigue. And we need a sharp mind if we want to avoid being fooled or even used. If... if what I've heard of that ring is true, the risk is too great to sacrifice our chances for Legolas' peace of mind.”

“A sharp mind... You want me to choose you.”

“The two of us are this realm's greatest strategic minds. And as you've pointed out yourself you are needed here, in case we've learnt of it too late.”

“But you don't know Elrond.”

“I'll deal with him as I have dealt with countless others before him. That I prefer an intricate plan doesn't mean that I can't improvise. But he who can outwit the trickster god has yet to be born.”

“That is not what I meant. Not exactly. You have never met him, so Elrond also doesn't know you. How can you expect him to trust you? This won't work. Not on a normal day, but Loki, you are pregnant, I can't send you. I'm sorry. I know you're right, I agree, but I won't have you leave this forest with my child inside you to venture into a land under the greatest threat imaginable, only to knock on the door of an ally who knows nothing of you outside of what Gandalf tells him.”

With those words Thranduil left to think on his own.

He knew that he should send the best he had. This was no trifle, it was as serious as it could ever get. He had to send Loki. But they couldn't wait for months. Why did these things have to coincide? Well, it wasn't entirely coincidence. Loki had become pregnant because of the increasing number of spiders. And that was no doubt caused by the increasing power of evil in the South. Which in turn was likely a result of the resurfacing of the Ring. Not a coincidence, then. Cause and effect.

But what could he do? That Elrond didn't know Loki might be helped by sending Legolas along to vouch for the Woodland Realm's new queen. But sending those two together came with its own problems. Especially right now that Legolas was back to hating Loki.

Or fearing him? What he represented? That his father had moved on and he was being replaced? It would be a gamble whether they'd get along well enough as not to – even involuntarily – sabotage their own mission. And he couldn't afford to gamble like that with the Ring returned.

He momentarily wondered where Loki might have heard of it as he had said. But he dismissed it. 'Most certainly from Gollum,' he told himself and returned to his most serious worries. Would Gandalf think that Loki had let the creature escape on purpose? The wizard already distrusted the Jotunn; this would surely make his disfavourable predilection worse. What if they thought that Loki was a servant of the enemy? Tricksters and deceivers were not too far from each other, especially if the hostility was already there.

Would they lock him up? Well, try? Or worse?

Thranduil could not think clearly now. It was all too sudden. He would sleep on it. With Loki's speed, he could afford one more day. So now he focused on his own realm only. He brought everything back to order after the festivities and checked if everything really was. He paid special attention to the state of his army.

That was noticed, of course, he was too worried to be properly subtle about it. But they surely just thought him concerned for the well-being of his child. They had no idea. And they shouldn't. He was glad to know, but if he told his people, there would be panic. It would remain a secret.

Fortunately, he didn't have to tell Loki so. The Liesmith never needed to be told to keep something under wraps. He did so naturally, needing a reason to open up rather than the other way around. That should perhaps concern him, too. But with Loki's upbringing in mind, he could understand it. Discretion was a must for royalty in general. Some things just weren't discussed with commoners.

But Legolas was not the best liar. Maybe he shouldn't tell him either. At least not yet.

No, Legolas shouldn't be told yet. If Elrond decided to share it, he should be just as surprised as anyone could be expected to be. And Legolas just wasn't good enough a liar to pretend that, as Loki could with ease. So they would be the only two to know. He brushed the insisted nagging on his nerves aside again and spent the remainder of the day organising the optimisation of his realm's defences. They should really stock up their troops. Both in heads and supplies.

He feared the war to come.

Loki sneered and the blue ridges of his Jotunn form stood out from his pale elven skin, while his eyes flared furiously red. He had partially transformed to intimidate someone. Before him there was a round table, not overly wide, bit situated in the middle of many seats. In them sat various people he could barely make out in vague shapes, but their sizes betrayed that there were elves or humans and dwarves both.

Then Gandalf stepped forth, his staff up and directed at Loki. But Loki didn't so much as twitch. He merely hissed in disdain.

His mouth moved, he said something, with a cruel smirk on his face and then he stretched out his blue-ridged hand over the table. There was something small laid upon it. But Loki's hand was above it, hiding it from view. He seemed about to grip it. On his hand, Rhîwya pulsed with energy. And someone squirmed in their seat as if in pain. A short one. A dwarf. But he wasn't broad enough for that. A hobbit then, who clutched at his chest close to the left shoulder, while his face contorted in agony.

Thranduil woke with a gasp, his own ring glowing bright green. What had just happened? Another crazy dream? Or a vision... That table, the circle of seats. Imladris? Loki would be there. And he would have a confrontation with Gandalf. Well, that could be expected. But the hobbit hadn't been. He didn't really think that is was Bilbo, but a hobbit nonetheless. Maybe Loki would even find support there? Their favourite burglar had liked him a lot, after all.

The Sinda could only hope for the best, because now he had to send Loki. Or, he feared, the future might find another way to come true. But he would give him Legolas along for support. If Gandalf was to spoil for a fight, then Loki would need someone trustworthy to vouch for him to Elrond.

He just hoped that they would be able to push their issues aside in order to present a united front.

Chapter Text

“What?! But father!”

He had actually expected that reaction. That was why he had moved this talk away from the throne room where anyone might hear and to his private chambers before revealing his decision. He would still have preferred for his son to prove his expectations wrong and at least act mature. Well, there was no helping it now.

“No 'but', Legolas. It is our best option and your king's decree. So go pack!”

“My 'king'?”, but his tone was no longer that of a spoiled brat. His whining outrage had turned cold in a second.

“Is that really all you are willing to be for me? ...Or perhaps the real question is: Was this disregard caused by my replacement or was it always so?”

Thranduil sighed, but seeing the fury and desperate pain flitting over his son's face in quick succession to and fro... he knew he still had to be clear:

“Your king I have been for as long as you have lived. That I am your father as well does not undo this fact. But that is no matter now. Loki is our best diplomat and strategist, yet he is no native and neither knows the way nor is he known to Elrond as trustworthy, much less qualified to speak for me. You have what he lacks.”

Such were the facts. Yet as he looked at those before him, the both of them, he knew that he had done something horribly wrong. Legolas got angry at him sometimes, when he thought himself undermined. And there had been fury in his eyes just a moment ago. But this right now was not anger anymore. His son wore heartbreak in his eyes. And Loki... Loki's eyes were downcast in pity. Pity for Thranduil. He truly could not remember the last time he had been pitied.

But Legolas stole his attention again, with no more than one ragged nod. It felt like a slap to the face. Then the prince turned and stormed away, not saying a single world. What did that mean? He looked to Loki for help. Clearly the mage knew what was up. But he just shook his head.

“Loki, please, just tell me what... if he'll do-”

“Yes. He'll pack his things.”

“Good. ...It's not good, is it? That tone... What did you mean with that?”

“What I said.”

“And what more than that?”

“He will leave as you ordered. I just don't see him coming back this time.”

That, spoken with such resignation, scared him to the bone. He was about to speak up again, but Loki beat him to it:

“Do you even realise your mistake?”

“No, I just did what I have for the past centuries. Foregoing the situation with Tauriel, who is no longer here, he never had any problems with following my orders. Not even when he didn't understand them at first. And he should understand this. It is entirely-”

“Logical? Reasonable? Of course, it is. But this is not a matter of rational thought. Children don't care for rational thought!”

“Well, he's not a child anymore, he's been grown up for several centuries!”

“Yes, he's a child! He is your child! And he will always be your child! Even when he has children of his own, he will still be your child. Even when his children have children of their own. Always. You have to know that.”

“He hates it when I treat him like a child.”

“His pride hates it. His heart needs it. At least a bit of it.”

“That was never a problem between us.”

“Because he is very confident. He doesn't usually need it so badly. So desperately. But now, his ever unchallenged role in your life has been questioned. He might be replaced and it has made him insecure. He is scared, Thranduil, a scared little child. He needed the reassurance. And you denied it.”

"No, I didn't. I told him clearly that you needed him, tha-"

"As a local guide? That's no accomplishment he could call his own. It just happened because he was born and almost everyone else can claim the same. It's not any part of him as an indivudual, nothing special of his. It's... it's not enough to make feel worthy in your eyes. You're confirming that he is easily exchangeable."

“I didn't mean it like that! I didn't realise… What do I tell him now? How do I talk to him?”

“I am sorry, my spring, but my advice is that you don't. You might not feel like that right now, but this is an already bad situation you can still make so much worse. I will talk to him.”

“Got everything?”

“Yes, your grace.”

“Not in that tone, Legolas. I came for help, not harm. I don't think that I deserve that.”

“How could you possibly help me? And why should you even try?!”

“Because your and your father's utter lack of understanding is making both of you miserable. And I wish it on neither of you.”

“Not even me? How very touching.”

“Of course I don't want you miserable, Legolas.”

That had him hesitate for a moment, doubt appearing on his face:

“What am I to you that you would say that?”

“Technically, I am your step-mother and queen...”

There Legolas did note that the family term came before the title, but the actual point was:

“Practically, I had believed us friends. Or something close to it at least. Was I so utterly mistaken?”

He was torn. Loki had been really understanding and helpful with a lot of things, but the Jotunn was also the exact person who had stolen his father from him. Except... Well, it's hardly stealing when the goods come so eagerly all by themselves, is it?

“You're not mistaken. I do like you. We are something like friends. But what does my friend want from me? To allow me to cry on his shoulder? Because I won't. I'm not a little boy anymore, who cries and wails for his daddy to notice him.”

“I told you, I want to help you. And since there is no beast I can help you slay, I'll make that help advice. ...You might know some of what it's been like between me and my own father.”

“You mean that he was an utterly loveless monster? I remember. And I see that you went through much more and much worse than me and you have my sympathy, but that doesn't exactly help me out here.”

“I was not fishing for sympathy, Legolas. I want you to understand something that I wish someone had made me understand a long time ago. Because while, unlike mine, your father does love you-”

Legolas scoffed in bitterness, but Loki elected to ignore him:

“Despite that anyway, we are essentially in the same situation. He loves you, truly, but he doesn't know how to show it and that makes his feelings irrelevant for you. They obviously don't impact what you get from him and they shouldn't impact the feelings that you hold. For him and for yourself.”

Now the elf was just confused, twisting his brows into a frown:

“I don't think I get your point... His feelings regarding me are irrelevant?”

“They should be. For you. Legolas, you cannot spend your life chasing his affection. You ought not waste your life just trying for his favour. He is your father and he will always be in your past, so you can keep his memory present, but do not try to make him your future. I've given so much trying to change my father's mind, to make him realise my worth... it is a futile task. Learn from my mistakes, dear. Don't break yourself for your father. Live your own life. Go on adventures, have fun, explore and learn. Fall in love. Make your own way and carve out your own place in this world; do not his shadow.”

And with that said Legolas was silent for the longest of times. He looked Loki deep in the eyes, seeing his sincerity and pain. But he could not handle what he had just heard.

“Are you- Are you just saying that to get rid of me?”

“I am not offended if you think that. The Norns know, I've done enough to deserve that. But to be entirely honest with you: No, I'm not trying get rid of you. It's just that right now, you have even more in common with me than Thranduil. A past version of me, that is. A version of me that should have been told this. If it had, then just perhaps a great lot of innocent people might still be alive. It's a dark place you're in. One I know from personal experience. And I might not go so far as to say that I wouldn't wish it on my worst enemy, but I certainly wouldn't wish it on you.”

Legolas' eyes seemed almost glassy now:

“You care about me?”

“Yes, of course, both of us do.”

“I am not sure if I believe that.”

“I'd say there's a test and it's fool-proof, but also really mean.”

“What test?”

“A crisis. The danger of loss or actual loss. If I died, I think my father would sneer. If he died, I am certain I would dance on his grave. Or cut his body into many many tiny pieces and feed them to his own wolves until they shit him out for the flies to feast upon. But if something happened to you, what do you think your father would do?”

“He would... Maybe … be cold? Maybe indifferent?”

“Do you really believe that? Because you don't sound like it.”

“...He would grieve.”

“For many centuries to come. Because he does love you.”

“...But then, why should I go? Why would his love be irrelevant if it is true?”

“Because I don't want to hope for a crisis to draw his feelings forth. And until he can show you, it will only mean pain for you. And truth is good, but it is still trumped by reality. The very real sufering you would endure just clinging to the truth he will not show. I'm not telling you to cut all ties, Legolas, but you have to take something for yourself, find a purpose in life. With his life expectancy, I don't think that you have a future as his successor. I certainly hope to never see you crowned king on the Antlered Throne. But you can't remain his back-up forever just in case. Or would you want that?”

“No... And I don't want to be king either. I'm terrible at it and it's exhausting.”

“It is duty and responsibility first, after all. Power and prestige, too, but mostly the former.”

“How do you do that every day?”

“I don't do it alone, for one. And you won't be alone forever, either. I thought that I would be, after all that happened, and yet here I am, married and expecting. You'll find your one, too.”

“If you say so.”

But his tone was lighter and he even had a small smile tugging at his lips. Everything would be alright between them. And as long as Loki remained in charge, Thranduil would also (be made to) make a great father for their own children.

Loki was magic.

Not just in the sense that he was a mage, but it more that he actually worked miracles. Thranduil was sure of that. Because just an hour ago, he had ruined his relationship with Legolas completely, likely beyond repair. And now his son hugged him as tightly as he could and whispered “I love you, Ada” in his ear. He was somewhat shocked. He still mumbled “I love you too, my little leaf,” though.

And the hug grew even tighter for it.

But it also fanned his dread about what Loki had said earlier. That Legolas did not mean to return. This really felt like a final goodbye, terrifyingly so. But he didn't dare ask. He tightened the embrace further as though to just hold his son forever. Looking up, he saw Loki smile at them as warmly as he had ever seen him. Even the guards were visibly touched.

It wasn't often that their royalty showed their hearts like this. So open and vulnerable. But when they finally parted, Legolas beamed like a little child, proving Loki right once more.

He felt guilty for that, but also relieved. He really needed Loki in his life, even just to keep him in line. But now, he had to let go of the both of them. Just for a while, in Loki's case at least, but it made his heart ache. He missed them already and there weren't even gone yet. He suppressed shivers as he watched them mount their horses. (He had insisted that Loki should ride a horse, not become one, so Elrond would see him as Elvenqueen first.)

And with a few parting words (mostly 'I love you's) they turned away and rode off Westwards through the forest. Thranduil was left behind with worry and duty. But preparing his kingdom for the war he feared was coming might take his mind off his loved one's journey. They shouldn't face any dangers, anyway. They just went to Rivendell, what could happen on the way? As much as he had hated Thorin rubbing it in his face that Moria was back under dwarven control, Balin's specifically, with no Balrog to be seen, he was glad that their path was relatively safe.

As long as they kept it to just Rivendell and back. But that would depend on what they found out from Elrond, and potentially Gandalf, if he was there. Thranduil just hoped that they watched out for themselves and one another. There were still many spiders in the forest and orcs were anywhere outside of it. Now that was not a serious concern, not among Loki and Legolas, but he still wished for the best on their way to Rivendell.

And it might have worked; they came across no spiders at all. Aafter that, reaching the Misty Mountains was just a question of time anymore.

The Mountains themselves were not as welcoming.

That was one good thing about Mirkwood's thick canopy: It was a great umbrella. These blasted mountains on the other hand had them drenched to the bones within half an hour! It also made the rock under the hooves of their horses dangerously slippery, so they decided to dismount and just lead the horses until they were on the other side.

The first time a horse slipped and nearly slid off the narrow path and down the mountainside, they were really glad to have made that decision. A rider's weight added and it might not have caught itself.

Their footing remained insecure for hours and despite their early start, on the verge of dawn, before the sun had risen, and despite their previously high speed they now realised that they wouldn't make it to their destination before the sun rose a second time. Because it was seriously dark now.

Dark and slippery. There was no long debate before they interrupted their journey to camp for the night. Now Legolas, too, was really grateful for Loki's dimension pocket, considering that the alternative would have been a very hard ground to sleep on. And the temperature was plummeting, too.

Thus they were both really glad to be able to snuggle into thick blankets, but falling asleep was still hard. Both were thinking too much. So they talked some to calm down. They talked about hunting, about clothing (Legolas found that it should be practical, Loki found that that was only one side of it and it should also be appropriate, which for him as queen meant ornate), talked shortly about jewellery and then about dwarves. At that Loki noticed that Legolas was quieting down. He was withholding something. Well, he tried. But this was Loki he was talking to:

“What's on your mind, 'Las?”

“Nothing, just the strangeness of dwarves.”

“You sure that's it? You seemed to consider saying something. You know that I won't laugh or just. Come, spill.”

“It's just... I just thought about how Tauriel could fancy one. They are so ugly, aren't they? And short!”

“Well... Tauriel didn't fancy a dwarf so much as a representative of the different, the foreign, the exotic and the unexplored wonders far away. She was homesick in reverse, longing for the distance, to go out and find new things. He represented that to her. That had nothing to do with being attractive.”

“Oh..kay.”

“But I do feel compelled to clear one thing up. Dwarves are not short.”

“Yes, of course, they're about half of our hight!”

“That makes them low, where we are tall. But they are not short. Not significantly shorter than elves, anyway. And if you consider their general height, that makes for some really impressive proportions.”

Now Legolas was silent. And he was bright red, gnawing on his lips in embarrassment.

“You meant that size.”

“Yesss.”

“How do you know that? Did you ...you know... with a dwarf?”

“Oh yes. A long time ago, but yes.”

“A long time meaning...?”

“No one you know. Before I first came here.”

“Oh, good.”

“Yes it was.”

“...”

“What?”

“Are they really... like– do you like them better than elves?”

“Not really. I was positively surprised. It really was intense, but orgies usually are.”

“An orgy?”

“Yes. All the sons of Ivaldi. I don't remember their names, most listen to Ivaldison anyway. That's some family pride right there, so I never bothered to try telling them apart.”

“But you still...”

“Had sex with them? Of course, I did. I was single and horny. Why wouldn't I have enjoyed myself? My 'virtue' was long gone by that time, so what did I have to lose? I really could just gain fun.”

“Why do you always say 'virtue' like that?”

“Because it's an idiotic concept. Sure, it's good to start with a positive, preferably sweet and vanilla experience, so choose your first with care. But after that? Have fun! Explore! I was curious about dwarves. So I had some. … Are you curious about dwarves? Is that why you asked?“

“No...”

“So you're just curious in general and consider dwarves rivals?”

“That's it, I suppose? I just didn't get her. Even if they aren't short, they are still ugly.”

“You think so?”

“Yes. I think they're dirty and hairy and disproportionate. Don't you?”

“I think they are dirty, too. But the good kind. They are hairy, too. But you can't count that as a negative. I will always prefer kissing a mouth without a wire bush guarding it, but you can't imagine the feeling of a beard softly scraping at the most sensitive of places. And yes, they are somewhat disproportionate, but their height doesn't matter, when you're both lying down. And there is something hot about their bulging muscles, basically everywhere all over their bodies. I do like a lean partner, but sometimes bulky can be good, too. You should try both in your life.”

Legolas didn't answer, but Loki could see him thinking.

And that was no innocent thinking. It was a burning curiosity manifesting itself in his brain and below. Maybe that would actually be better. It would definitely be easier on the elf. Something too close to home was bound to remind him of his fixation on the redhead. And he had been surrounded by elves for all of his life, also throughout the awakening of his interest. 'Who knew,' Loki chuckled to himself, 'maybe that got his own species friend-zoned.'

He finally fell asleep still smiling about Legolas.

And once the Jotunn was imperceptive, Legolas could jerk off to a confusing mix of long and lean as well as short and stocky bodies in his head, before going to sleep as well.

The next morning, however, was not as fun.

It had snowed in the night the horses had trouble moving at all. They couldn't be ridden like this. But they were not the only ones with problems. Legolas was clothed lightly enough to walk on the snow, but he was freezing where he stood and Loki didn't mind the cold, but his heavy robes and armour pieces dragged him down. It was frustrating. It was maddening! It drove him wild and with a curse he did the only sensible thing he should perhaps have done earlier.

He shapeshifted into a she-bear.

Yeah, the horses shrieked and bolted despite the snow, but he didn't care any longer. He took Legolas onto his back and trotted through the flattened snow.

The elf was shocked at first, but then he just snuggled into the soft, warming fur-coat, once more grateful for Loki's talents. And his tolerance. Legolas did not take for granted that his queen allowed him to ride him like he would a horse. And Loki did seem disgruntled now, but more because of the weather than Legolas.

However, that was a misinterpretation. Loki was not disgruntled. Not anymore. He was concerned. The Misty Mountains were supposedly won back from the orcs. Balin had succeeded. He'd let them know and invited them to visit.

So then why did his bear nose itch from the stink of goblins?

Chapter Text

The first wobble had her looking up.

She had been scrying on her father passing underneath the portal between Asgard and Arda. But now her attention was solely on the ebony-black egg beside her throne. It had moved. She was sure of that. So she watched. She watched it for an hour without blinking. It wobbled again. And this time, is was shortly followed by the bright golden one. She knew what that meant.

They were starting to hatch.

Letting the horses bolt had not exactly been his best idea. Bloody mood swings.

But whatever, Loki was a powerful mage after all, he had no need of horses to make an entrance. Briefly he considered landing as a dragon, but he didn't want to be shot at and then have to clear up the confusion. So no majestic arrival from the sky, roaring and cracking the ground as he lowered himself onto it. Instead he veiled himself and Legolas, still riding his bear-form, in invisibility and created illusions of them.

The illusions showed them, Loki as a she-elf, both riding on their actually bolted horses. They appear to arrive just as Thranduil has sent them off, even when the truth was very different. He also warned Legolas not to make any noises until he signalled it and thus they entered Rivendell. An elf spotted them, or rather the illusion of them, almost immediately and walked towards them, greeting 'Legolas Thranduilion'. Loki was insulted and made the 'horses' rise on their hind legs and kick their front legs out.

The elf stepped back at once and stared at (the illusions of) them incredulously. Then Loki had the illusions dismount and nudged Legolas to do the same. Assuming correctly, the prince walked into his illusion and after turning back into a she-elf, Loki did the same.

When he discarded the illusions of Legolas and himself, the Rivendell-elf didn't notice that anything had changed. He just kept staring in question and when Loki turned to Legolas as well, the Sinda realised what they were waiting for.

“Greetings, Lindir. I think you might not yet have met Loki Laufeyiel, i Dagnir en Lhûg Smaug, Berethye en Eryn Galen.”

Lindir's eyes widened at the first title and his jaw clenched at the second. No one greeted a prince before the queen. But he put on a smile (that could not hide his humiliation) and tried to be nice:

“I beg your forgiveness, my grace. I was not aware that King Thranduil had remarried, but you are very welcome here in Rivendell. What may I tell my lord of your purpose?”

“Tell him that Thranduil will not desert his throne again so soon. What questions he has for him can be answered by me.”

“I shall inform him immediately. Please precede. Your horses will be-”

With great effort, Loki managed to suppress the laughter that attempted to escape him at the sight of Lindir's face when he changed his illusion of horses with a gesture, making it appear as though he had transformed them into birds that were now flying away. The poor, fooled elf stared after them with his jaw dropped. He had never seen such magic. And it would have been an amazing feat, had he actually transformed other creatures. But being an illusionist and trickster, he knew how to inspire awe without any effort at all.

“There will be no need for that. Now, I think, you wanted to inform your lord of our arrival.”

Lindir stared back at him and gulped before nodding and mumbling:

“I shall, your grace. Feel free to explore. I'll just... go tell him.”

He scurried away and Loki finally allowed a chuckle to slip out.

“Oh, I've missed this. Queenly behaviour can be so utterly boring.”

“I thought you were going to be diplomatic.”

“You thought so correctly. That was a servant, Legolas. I am expected to treat him like this. It is Elrond and his family I might have to be nice to, not their staff. That would be entirely inappropriate for someone of my rank and potentially also suspicious. If I am written off as arrogant and standoffish like Thranduil, the world will be in order for them. To defy expectations would rather irk them, make them wonder. And I really can't have that. Now, dear prince, how about you show me around?”

They sauntered about some, just enjoying the scenery and architecture as Legolas pointed some things out to the Jotunn, when they heard more horses arriving and clattering armour. Both intrigued they looked over to the noise from a distance and the elven prince frowned.

“Those humans seem to hail from Gondor.”

“So?”

“It is rather far away from here. I don't think they come to visit often. ...What could they want from Elrond?”

“How would I know? But if you're really interested, we could always spy on them. Want to?”

“No, I don't think that that be would appropriate...”

“I'd be curious, but have it your way. We could at least get back inside, before poor Lindir tries and fails to find us and you complain again.”

“I didn't complain, but we are guests here.”

“True, but we are also royalty. It's okay to act like it from time to time, my prince.”

They moved towards the houses again, when suddenly Legolas spotted someone he knew. He seemed positively surprised to see whoever that was and excused himself to go and meet up with him. Loki did ask who it was, but Legolas just stuttered around about a human who was also elvish somehow... and finally he just said that he would explain it later. Loki wasn't exactly happy about that, but he didn't drag him back by his ears, either. The prince had identified him to Lindir already and would certainly show up again later.

So he entered the first building on his own and immediately recognised a voice he heard there. Okay, so he couldn't put a name to it, but he still recognised that it was one of the dwarves of Thorin's company. Now that left the process of elimination. He would have known instantly if it had been Thorin himself or one of his nephews. He would also have recognised Balin and probably also Dwalin and Bofur. About the others, he was not so sure. He had no choice then, but to approach and look where his ears failed him.

Ah, the redhead. That was... Oin? No, Oin's hair and beard were grey... Gloin! He went through his memories again, just to be sure and not embarrass himself and let them see him.

“Greetings, Gloin. It's been ages.”

“Hm? Have we m... Is that you, Loki?”

“It is, though that's Queen Loki now. In company, at least.”

“Ey, a new shape! An' it looks good, too. How's the East then? Everyone still bickering?”

“As they always do. It's relatively uneventful, really. And how's the West? Blue Mountains still blue?”

“Heheh. But they're fine. Just a wee bit worried. Our letters to Balin remain unanswered and there were rumours. Waves on the lake, they say. But that's not ya concern. Ey, ya Queenliness, 'ave ye met me son Gimli?”

Another dwarf got almost on his tiptoes then and smiled broadly under his helmet, before bending over so far that Loki almost feared he might topple right over.

“Gimli Gloinson, at your service.”

“Loki Laufeyson, at yours.”

“Son?”

“Sometimes. I am magic and can chose. Right now, I suppose, daughter might be more appropriate, but I am more used to 'son'. It doesn't matter, really. I am both. Has no one ever mentioned that?”

“Oh, I've 'eard lots about ye, but that was not part of it.”

“Well, it was hardly a concern at the time. We had other worries.”

“Oh, aye, the orcs and the dragon and more orcs, I can retell it by 'eart!”

The Jotunn chuckled at the thought. Dwarves. Short as children and just as enthusiastic.

He continued chatting with them for some time, but then he felt something. It was too weak, or rather too drowned out, to identify it at their current distance, but it was definitely magic and clearly not the kind that was all around them. ...That was interesting. He estimated the general direction and Gloin realised that his eyes had drifted.

“Loki? Er... Queen Loki? Is everything alright?”

“Yes, of course, just a tug. It's been a pleasure to see you again after all this time, Gloin, and to meet you, Gimli. I hope it won't be the last time. If you would excuse me now, I should probably tend to that.”

Gimli was confused, but Gloin just nodded it off as weird wizard business.

Under the veil of invisibility, because he didn't want to be stopped on the way, he followed the call and found himself in front of the door to a private room. There he stripped the veil off again and softly knocked.

“Who is it?“, came from within.

He didn't recognise the voice, but it sounded old.

“Who are you?”, he called back. And first he was answered by a snort:

”You're the one knocked! Or do you always knock on people's doors without knowing who it is you're asking for permission to enter?”

Shortly after, though, he heard a softer voice speaking too low to be heard through the door and then said door opened. It revealed a dark-haired hobbit who immediately started talking in a very polite tone:

”Forgive, Milady, my uncle is very strained and his manners suffer from it. I-”

And then the hobbit realised that his visitor was staring. So close to it, Loki could feel his old acquaintance call for him from underneath the hobbit's shirt. It wanted him to reach out and take it. It was so close, he could just grab it. The hobbit would never be able to stop him. But there he saw the reasoning of the Ring surfacing and shut it out.

Yet the hobbit had seen his gaze and stepped back terrified. That, however, drew the attention of the room's actual inhabitant and both mage and hobbit were torn from their exchange, when his aged voice called:

“Loki? Truly? Oh, I'd know you in any shape! My dear, Loki, do you still recognise me?”

And now that he saw him, Loki's heart clenched.

“Bilbo...”

“Yes, yes, it's me!”

Bilbo came over and pulled him into a tight hug as the other, who had referred to him as uncle, stared in bewilderment. But Bilbo... He had grown so, so old. A mortal nearing the end of his lifespan. But he swallowed his mortification and tried to seem jovial. Or neutral at least.

“Bilbo, it's been too long.”

“Oh I know, I've grown old. But don't we all some day? Well, not your kind of course. An elven woman now?”

“A proper queen.”

“Ah, yes, I remember. It really has been far too long.”

“It has... If I may ask, when was the last time you saw Thorin?”

“Oh, that's been long, too.”

“Why, you were so close?”

“Nargh... We fell apart. Natural erosion over time. It happens.”

But that was not it. He looked inside Bilbo and saw tendrils of magic running through him. The fouling magic of the Ring. He looked back to the object responsible. That thing that had invaded his friend and distorted him. And he heard it's bearer's gasp. But so did Bilbo and only then did he realise that his nephew was still in the room and fearfully staring at their guest.

“Ah, Frodo, let me introduce you. Loki, this is my nephew, Frodo Baggins. Frodo, this is Loki, I've told you about him. The wizard who killed Smaug and then married the Elvenking.”

“Uuhh, yes. Loki. What are you staring at?”

His voice rose an octave during the last few words. Really not a good liar. Loki just raised a brow in the sense of 'Seriously? You're trying to lie to the God of Lies? Wanna fool the trickster? Well, good luck with that, kid.'

But thankfully, Bilbo noticed, too.

“Oh, don't you worry about him. Loki has worn the ring, too. But he gave it back to me for safe-keeping when it showed its true nature. It would have done too much damage in his hands.”

Frodo seemed to relax a little, but he remained suspicious.

“Believe your uncle about that, little one. I won't take it from you. If I had wanted to, I could have answered its call the moment that you opened the door.”

That did not exactly calm Frodo, but he mostly just berated himself for the foolish act. And then Bilbo realised something:

“While I am delighted to see you again, what did you want from me, asking who was in here?”

“I sensed the Ring's magic, but didn't recognise it underneath that of Rivendell. So I followed the call until I did.”

“Oh, of course. But what were you doing in Rivendell to begin with, if I might ask?”

“Elven business. About Thranduil's disappearance.”

“Yes, there was something. But that was decades ago.”

“A blink in the life of an elf.”

“Sure, sure...”

“And what are you two doing here?”

“The ring... It's become a danger.”

“A danger? How now?”

Because of the creature Gandalf brought into Thranduil's prison? But why all this now?

Bilbo looked to Frodo for that and the younger hobbit seemed to finally trust him, because he immediately told him about Nazgul, translated ring-wraiths, coming into the shire looking for him and following him and his friends. They had found shelter and healing here and hoped that the Ring could be hidden here, too. Idiots, thought Loki. He had not been able to identify the ring as source, but even he had sensed it and he was not a wraith with an innate connection to its power.

But Elrond seemed to have realised that, too. For Bilbo elaborated that the elf lord planned a meeting. Elves, men, hobbits and dwarves had come together. Not called for this and partly on different business, but all here now. Apparently, Elrond took that as a sign and wanted all those unexpectedly accumulated dignitaries to gather and discuss the matter of the Ring.

That was extremely important for the Woodland Realm, for all of Middle-Earth, he noted. He should tell Thranduil. He should send the bird on his bracelet right now. He needed to warn him. Of the wraiths at least. Their borders were hardly far from the former lair of one called the Necromancer. That was no coincidence. He should really warn him. But could he tell him without admitting or even so much as causing questions about his knowledge of the Ring, his one secret...

Then Bilbo said that this meeting was strictly confidential and no one outside of Rivendell could know. They weren't even allowed to send ravens, lest the enemy intercepted them. Loki doubted that his magical messenger could be intercepted. But then again, he hadn't expected this enemy to actually raise the dead either. Psychological warfare was reason enough to use a terrifying name such as necromancer. But to make good on it was a rare and dangerous gift to possess. He couldn't risk it.

Not when this enemy could allow souls to bypass Garm. Only Hel was meant to have that ability. And thus his thoughts wandered to his daughter. What might she be doing right now?

Right now, Hel was petting a beauty.

Tall as a dog on his fours and from his snout to the end of his tail as long as three dead men. And when he spread his wings, they were wider than the eagles'. He was Myrkdyr, the dark beast. His eyes were red as rubies when they stared up into the undead woman's face and his breath as cold as ice when he screeched for kin. The woman hissed at him in answer and a massive brown dragon growled, too.

Mother and father, in the eyes of the newly hatched.

But all three faced away again, when the first little whine echoed from the golden dragon that tried to free himself from its broken casing. The remaining three eggs showed cracks as well. All to different degrees. But the black one was free first and the golden one followed him, a small but already spiky head pressing through the softened shell. His eyes were just as red as Myrkdyr's and the amber youngling's. But when the azure and ruby ones broke free, many hours later, their eyes were all golden.

It did not seem to influence their breaths, though. The Gold-Snake, Gullormr, blew smoke from his gullet. But he could not yet produce the same fierce flame as his amber brother, whom Hel hence called Hyrrandlat, the fire-death. Blodugrond, the bloody shield, did not breathe heat nor cold, but his scales and limbs were thicker and his horns more ragged than his brothers'. He was also the strongest, but not as intelligent as the eldest or as long and winding as the Gold-Snake or the Sea-Skin, Marrhamr, whose azure scales sparkled in the dark.

But for all their difference, they were alike, when Hel let her children loose on her realm for Nidhogg to teach them flight as she rode him. They all rose to the sky with shrill roars and spread terror among the dead, as they soared downwards again for their first prey.

There were five young dragon-princes in Helheim now. And they would hunt, devour and grow.

Chapter Text

Maybe he should try to contact her...

Loki would certainly like to know how nine deadmen had managed to escape her realm and how she planned to return them where they belonged. Among the dead. She would also have to consider a better containment or they could just leave again. Either way this breach had to be remedied.

And maybe, if he contacted her, he could also ask about the eggs. Or were they dragonlings now? He didn't know. He certainly felt like it was due, long overdue even. But the different passage of time confused his estimation.

Well, whatever. He couldn't visit her now. He couldn't risk crossing Asgard and he didn't know the direct way to Helheim, yet. Every world had a path to Helheim, to that circle of fog before its gate. But this world was quite big and portals tended to be quite small. That he knew one at all was due to a coincidental closeness. And that portal had brought him here. Finding another, especially the exactly right one to his desired destination, was basically impossible.

So he could not get back to her, unless he was with Thranduil to shield him from Odin. Or he waited for his father to die.

The best he would be able to do in that regard was to return to Mirkwood and inform her about her escapees through the shrine. But he could only return after the fate of the Ring was decided. And for that, Elrond had to gather his council first. Which he was left to wait for.

Loki had not been able to bear looking at that withered shell left of Bilbo any longer and excused himself. But now? He had nothing to do. So he wandered about, looking around for anything at all to catch his interest.

He watched elves walk their paths, humans, dwa... wait. That was curious. An elf crossed a bridge in his sight. But he could have sworn that the same elf had crossed that same bridge in the same direction not even ten minutes ago. And he had also worn a slightly different attire before... What was this? He wasn't usually the 'They all the same to me' type. But they had looked identical. His curiosity roused, he veiled himself and followed the elf, just observing his actions for now.

And he did not regret it: The elf met up with another, indeed identical looking one, the one he had seen before, and they shared a grin before sneaking around a gathering of dwarves and climbing nearby trees. Now Loki was really curious and observed unseen, a smile already starting to grow on his face in anticipation. The dwarves noticed nothing, of course. But then, when a dwarf passed under one of trees, suddenly a flower wreath dropped on his head. The dwarf looked around at the gust of wind, but the flowers were so light he didn't even really feel them.

But the wreath was also too far back for the other dwarves facing the flower-crowned one to see it. They had seen a movement, but now there seemed to be nothing. Admittedly, their helmets might also have been limiting their vision. But the effect was actually quite cute. A dwarf armed to the teeth and in heavy metal armour, with pretty little flowers on his head. And they didn't notice, so they just dismissed the thought of having seen something and went back to talking.

Then, when the next sauntered closer to one of the trees, another wreath dropped.

This time the dwarves knew for sure that something had happened. Even they would not ignore the same thing twice. And as soon as they noticed the flowers they were outraged at the disgrace, almost puffing like little steam boilers. He knew that they were outraged, but they were just adorable like this.

He looked back to the elves that had already left the trees again and now danced away laughing. That, he followed until they stopped to drink something from an ornate well. He didn't want to make them distrustful in case they heard him, so he dropped the veil and ceased to muffle his steps.

They heard him approach and turned to him, taking him in, before one spoke kindly:

“Greetings. You must be Queen Loki of the Woodland Realm. Lindir was quite distraught.”

“I imagine he was. But not as distraught as those dwarves. Quite mischievous, are we, boys?”

The speaker was surprised, the other one grinned:

“As long as they can't trace it back to us, we might be. You don't seem offended, your grace.”

“Rather impressed than offended, indeed. And you may call me Loki; if I might know what to call you by?”

“Elladan, at your service. And that's Elrohir. We're Elrond's sons.”

“Ahh. I had thought that such behaviour would not be practised by stable boys. Good work. Keep it up.”

“A mischief-condoning queen?”

“The plague of the palace, back when I was younger.”

“You're not that old. Maybe not even as old as we are.”

“Perhaps, physically. But I am a mother. That ages people.”

“Are you? With King Thranduil?”

“Before him already. I am his second wife and he is not my first partner, either. But speaking of partners, how do people tell you apart?”

“They usually don't. But we react to either name by now.”

“Hm. A necessary concession, I suppose.”

“Oh it doesn't bother us. We spend most of our time together anyway. But... speaking of time, we should probably find Legolas now.”

“And what do you plan with my step-son?”

“We? Nothing. Father told us to fetch him for the council meeting. It should start soon.”

Loki tried not to let on how insulted he was by that. Legolas was invited, but he wasn't? Well, Elrond could try keeping him out.

Elrond did. Of course, he did.

“I am dearly sorry, but this is a matter of Middle-Earth. I appreciate your visit and I am very curious to speak with you about your home, but this more urgent at this time.”

“I am aware. And I will participate in the discussion. Middle-Earth is my home now, so it concerns me, too.”

Elrond was just about to make up some other excuse to exclude the stranger he didn't yet trust. Loki knew it. But he wouldn't allow it.

"I am here to represent King Thranduil and have brought his first-born son as my guide and voucher. You will not keep me from doing as my king has ordered. Oh and, lord Elrond, it is 'your majesty' or Queen Loki to you. I understand well that Thranduil might not have considered necessary to tell even the Noldor, but you will acknowledge my standing."

He walked right past the incredulous elf and took a seat. Legolas followed after a moment without making eye-contact with Elrond. He was extremely embarrassed, but he would not disappoint his father by breaking the image of a united front Thranduil had seemed to value so. Instead he just took a seat beside Loki and waited with down-cast eyes. Surprisingly, Elrond did not insist that they leave.

The Lord of Rivendell observed.

He didn't know and didn't trust Loki. Gandalf had warned him about the otherworldly mage that Thranduil seemed to have taken such a liking to. And Gandalf was clearly irritated now as well. His opinion was obvious: An untrustworthy mage should not hear them discuss the most powerful and evil relict in the world.

But Elrond also saw how the dwarves nodded to Loki in greeting and even Frodo tried to smile at her. The men from Gondor seemed to consider other thing when looking at the only female present. That didn't sit well with him. Loki was bewitching even without magic and Gandalf feared the creature.

Not many could scare the grey wizard and nothing that did had ever sat with him. He dreaded what that might mean. Were they about to reveal the worst weapon in existence to an enemy? Gandalf certainly seemed to believe that, but most others that knew Loki apparently didn't. He settled for keeping an eye on the foreign beauty.

But doing so, he was unaware that Loki already kept an eye on him. To the God of Lies, Elrond did not have a great blankface. The moving direction of his eyes, from dwarves to hobbits and Gandalf, made his thought process obvious enough.

It amused Loki. The elf tried to form an opinion on him? He could try! But Loki Laufeyson was not so easily assessed.

He wondered when the elf would realise that. Not right now, apparently. An expression of self-confirmation took over the lord's features; he had made a decision. Then he preceded to formally welcome everyone and asked Frodo forth. The hobbit did as he was bid and deposited the ring on the round table in the middle of the circle formed by their chairs before returning to his own seat. It started a murmur among the visitors. Even Legolas stared in concern.

Loki was not impressed.

He knew it already. And the Ring knew him. It reflected the light to sparkle in his direction, trying to lure him. The Ring knew who could serve it best. It wanted Loki to touch it, to take it and to bring it home on his wide wings. But Loki resisted it with disdain in his gaze. He had no interest in falling for the same trick twice. But then he heard something in the bushes around them. He was slightly alarmed and shifted the inner workings of his olfactory apparatus.

That way he got a good whiff of the person hiding within the discussion's hearing reach. It was a hobbit. Now Loki was relieved and amused again. The strictly confidential, as in secret, meeting was being eavesdropped on. He could barely suppress a chuckle, but that died instantly when he heard his name spoken in a gruff, dwarven voice.

“Why don't we bury it? Hide it somewhere no one will ever find it. Or we send it away. Loki could surely-”

“Loki will not be handed the Ring of Power!”

That was Gandalf, surprising everyone with the vehemence and volume as he abruptly stood up.

“And who is this 'Loki'?”, asked one of the humans then.

“I am”, he answered softly, mock-innocently just because he enjoyed the look on Gandalf's face that it earned him. But the human who had spoken up was clearly not burdened with wisdom: He didn't even stop to wonder what might be odd about a she-elf with a name like Loki. Instead he just looked over and judged instantly, leading to a snorted remark he would come to regret:

“An elf-girl?”

Even Gandalf winced. But that was no comparison to the human jumping back with a shout, when Loki let his eyes flash blood-red at him.

“Wha-what is that?!”

Loki wanted to answer bitingly to terrify the insolent brat some more, but before he had picked his words there came from among the now more solemn faced dwarves the indignant voice of Gimli to berate the man:

“Loki is no elf-girl, but a sorcerer and shapeshifter from a different world. He can become any creature he wants to be and work many magicks. To our people, he is known for slaying Smaug the Tyrannical. And he did that by becoming a gigantic ice-dragon and mauling the firedrake that had stolen our treasure and home.”

As soon as the words 'becoming a gigantic ice-dragon' left the dwarf's mouth, even the last person in their round stared at Loki with some degree of shock. And the silence that spread after Gimli was done gave Gandalf the chance to speak up again. This time not in outrage, but letting his dread show:

“And this is exactly why Loki may not under any circumstances be handed the Ring. He is a danger on a normal day. He cannot handle the evil of Sauron's Ring, it will corrupt him and then nothing will be able to stop him anymore.”

Some nods went about. Many agreed. Unified in their fear of Loki. He was flattered, but he didn't like them banding together against him like this. Even if he didn't like where this was going... But nothing could stop the tide and the only thing you could do about its coming was to ride waves.

“Actually, greyling, I can.”

“You don't know the Ring.”

“You'd be surprised.”

“What would you know of it?! You have no idea what you are talking about!”

And that was just too much. Loki had never liked the wizard, but to say that he was clueless? It drove him mad. He had had enough of that with Asgard. No one belittled him! How dare the fool say so about him?! He was the one who didn't know what he was talking about! In that moment Loki didn't even care that his fury was very likely fuelled by the Ring egging his subconscious on. He was enraged and his reason no longer controlled his actions. He stood to face him and growled:

“I know damn well what I am talking about! I have worn it before! I wore it when I fucked Smaug and when I fought him. You think I don't know it? Well, I do! I know the rush of power and I know its promises! It promised me kingdoms, you know? It promised me your death and that of any other I desire. It offered me treasures and it offered me slaves for my pleasure! It only asked in return that I take it to its master in Dol Guldur and I could have had all I ever wanted! I know it, you presumptuous idiot. I have used it. I used it and I refused it. It can not corrupt me. And maybe I already am as corrupted as I can be, but trust me, wizard, I am no one else's lackey.”

Silence followed for some time and it calmed him again, changed his almost roaring rant to firm, but moderate speech:

“I know what I'm talking about. I have used it for my own purposes before. But I resisted its temptations and gave it away again, so just pay some respect where it's due.”

That appeared to require some processing from most around him. But then the human from before voiced his own conclusion of Loki's words.

“So we can use it. We give the Ring to Loki and he uses its power to fight for us.”

“Did you not listen?!”, countered Gandalf again, “He knew of the Ring and used it, but hid its discovery from us until it has become convenient for him to reveal his 'experience'. I am sorry to have to say this, but we cannot trust him. We don't even know anything about him but that he has managed feats of terrifying power. You cannot truly desire to put all our fates into the hands of one stranger!”

They murmured again, partially agreeing with Gandalf, and Loki's irritation grew anew.

“Did your little hobbit friend tell you then? He is the one who kept the Ring hidden after all. And for far longer than I ever held it. Do you condemn him for that, too?”

“He had no idea what it was. You were clearly aware of its evil and power. But you kept it to yourself. Why? Did you plan to come back for it? Wait until Bilbo died of natural causes, so I wouldn't suspect you and then let it disappear as if it had never been there to begin with?”

“I had other things on my mind! Why do you insist on making me look like a miscreant? I helped you! How can you be so utterly ungrateful?!”

It was just like Asgard all over again. No matter what he did, he was always the bad guy. If the outcome was good, the others were celebrated while he was mocked. But if the outcome was bad, then it was his fault alone. He hated it. He just hated it! His inner walls were crumbling and he became ever more susceptible. And then Gandalf kicked him over the edge.

“I don't trust you. Your good deeds can't change that. Whatever good you do can still be ill-intended, attempts to lull us into us into a false sense of security before we realise the trap. We have seen a deceiver before. Now we are not so blind. You play nice, but are false! Even your face is a lie.”

That was it.

Loki's grip on his artificial form loosened and his true nature started to show. The wizard wanted his true face? Let him see it then, the queen thought, and see if he can handle it. So Loki sneered and the blue ridges of his Jotunn form emerged to stand out from his pale elven skin, while his eyes flared furiously red. Gandalf stepped forth, his staff up and directed at Loki. But Loki didn't so much as twitch. He merely hissed in disdain:

“Then maybe I should do you a favour? If you can't believe in my good intentions, maybe I should just do as you say. Maybe I should leave the useless good behind and make your assumptions right...”

He said with a cruel smirk on his face and stretched out his blue-ridged hand over the table. Over the Ring of Power. He was about to grip it and his own ring pulsed with energy. Absently he noted that it made poor Frodo very uncomfortable. The Ring was clearly delighted, but Frodo clutched his chest close to the left shoulder, where he had been stabbed, while his face contorted in agony.

Gandalf was focused on Loki, though. Everyone watched the confrontation with bated breaths.

They were frozen in fear of what was about to happen. Too frozen to stop it. So Loki finished the shift and used Rhîwya to ground himself for protection, to not end up possessed, and connected with the One Ring. Gandalf tried to blast him away, prevent it, but he had hesitated a moment too long.

Loki heard them. He felt the fire at Gandalf's hand and with the power of the One he turned it against his owner. Gandalf's blast extinguished before it had fully formed and he screamed at the burning pain. Huh, he had never used the One on another Ring-bearer before...

It felt amazing. The One Ring's very essence was the control of other rings.

Loki heard the Ring Wraiths screeching far away and heard Gandalf's pain in front of him. He heard a startled gasp in a forest and he heard the hiss from... next to him? He looked to its origin and beheld Elrond doubled over in his seat with one hand clutching his own head. On it there shone a sapphire on a ring. “Vilya” sounded a whisper in his mind. Elrond was carrying one of the three elven rings. The ring, it felt like, of the wind. The ring of air.

Those around them were speechless as Loki overpowered both Lord Elrond and Gandalf the Grey. They didn't know the Ring and knew nothing of the other rings present. But they feared and the darkest part of Loki that was ruling him right now just revelled in it.

That was something that he and the Ring could perfectly agree about. They liked to defeat, to rule and see others kneel to them. And although Loki could not see the words in the Ring that had grown chilly under his touch, he heard them in his head and chanted them in delight:

“Ash nazg durbatulûk.”

Gandalf gasped a “No” and Elrond shivered, desperately trying to think against his mounting panic.

“Ash nazg gimbatul.”

Gandalf tried to rise against the the control of the Ring and prepared to attack. But Elrond understood that that could only make things worse and tried to think of a way to dissolve the situation before it became an actual fight. Rivendell would shatter completely if it did... Loki was literally glowing with power at this point!

“Ash nazg thrâkatuluk agh burzum ishi krimpatul.”

Chapter Text

As soon as the last syllable was spoken, Loki felt like he was sucked away and the world flared around him.

Now he saw them differently. He saw their spirits instead of their flesh. And all rings were as bright as suns to him. Even in the far distance and behind matter, be it wood or stone, beacons appeared in his vision.

Beside the two right next to him and his own, he saw one in the East, Thranduil's most likely, and he saw one in the South-East, surrounded by elven magic, and the brightest shining came from that same direction, but much further in the South. The wraiths shone to him, too.

Strangely they appeared to bear no rings anymore, but he could still see the traces of their rings in their essences. Curiously he looked to Bilbo and to Frodo. Both bore such traces as well, like scars on their spirits. But he was distracted. The voice in his head was so much louder now. And it saw him, too.

Gazing up from the South, a great lidless Eye examined him.

Those around him saw it quite differently.

His body had disappeared, but he was not entirely invisible. To their eyes, he had become a murky, scarab blue shadow standing in the their midst. Dark green tendrils coiled around it and a scarlet glow emanated from its head, but there were no facial features to be seen anymore. He was wraith-like.

The only clear things about him anymore were the veins of gold reaching into the hand that touched the One and a web of frosting that covered the hand that bore Rhîwya. It stretched over his arm and held his chest and head, too. But it was melting as they watched.

It was being molten as the fiery Eye from the South came nearer in his vision. But they didn't know that. They could only fear what he had become and wrack their brains for what to do about that. Luckily for them, Loki's refocusing on what he now saw had caused him to drop his hold over the other Ring-bearers among them. And now Elrond held Gandalf back, whispering that they should not antagonise it or they might drive Loki into Sauron's service for good. Gandalf's previous words certainly hadn't helped them and they did not want someone who might put even the Witchking of Angmar to shame as their enemy.

Gandalf, though he hated it, was compelled to agree and guiltily realised that he may have driven Loki to this point. So he stood back and lowered his staff and sword. Elrond was more objective now, more self-controlled than the wizard who had distrusted Loki for decades. So Elrond could be their diplomat and try talking to the wraith in their midst.

“Loki? Your Grace?"

But Loki did not react. He stared into thin air - Southwards - as if there were not even there, while the frost around him gave way and the veins of gold snaked their way further inside him.

“Loki!”

It was no use, not even when he repeated it louder and louder; even Legolas tried. But Loki was under a spell that the call of his name could not remedy. Then, the Sinda had another idea.

“Rhîwthûl!”

As if he ripped himself from a chain, Loki snapped around to direct his head, and presumably vision, at Legolas. He waited for a moment, while Legolas whispered the other name again, but the focus of the wraith on him, complete with the scarlet glow falling over his face, just stole his breath. Wraiths were terrifying creatures. Loki no less. And then he almost seemed to consider something... and suddenly he jerked back his hand from the Ring and became flesh once again. But if left him reeling and gasping:

“I was in the spirit world!”

His tone was slightly breathless and mostly astonished, but there was no hint of anger or bitterness left and Elrond sighed in relief. There would be no wizard fight today. But he was also slightly exasperated that it had gotten so close to begin with. And that showed when he spoke:

“We could have told you that.”

The second after he said that, though, he became very nervous. Clearly, Loki was a creature of considerable pride. He might not take lightly to being patronised. But thankfully Elrond's mistake remained inconsequential, as Loki was far too excited right now to let himself be dragged down. And that Elrond and everyone else as well seemed to be so utterly clueless... well, that just made him smug.

“Oh, but you don't even understand what my point is! The spirit world is not just the opposite of the flesh world. It is also path to the void between the worlds. This little thing is so unbelievably powerful! Even I had not guessed it. The One Ring also has the abilities of a transdimensional teleporter.”

“A what?”

“A portal. But a portal that can be moved and is small enough to fit into a pocket! It is a gateway to and from the World of the Dead. I could visit my daughter from right here, without ever even touching on Asgard! And that the Ring allows its bearer to pause at the intermediate steps is quite useful, too. So one can, after leaving the void to another place, check out the surroundings from the spirit world before stepping into the flesh world.”

“I am certain that that is fascinating for someone of your background, but I fail to see how it is relevant for us. Unless, of course, it means that you will try to keep the Ring for these purposes.”

“It is relevant for us, because I just figured out how the Nazgûl were able to leave the dead to haunt the living. That is quite important, I think, for returning them where they belong and making sure that they stay there for good this time around.”

Now that, Elrond could acknowledge as relevant.

“You can extinguish the Nine permanently?”

“No... Knowing the necessities may be a condition for solving a problem, but it's not the only one. And I am not overly great at dealing with the dead anyway. What we need for that is my daughter. If I could tell her about our situation, she could drag them back with ease and lock them away forever. But she is in the World of the Dead.”

The rest of the council had been trying to keep up with what Loki was talking about and now Legolas thought he had made a connection, so he instantly voiced it.

“But with the One Ring, you can reach her, right?”

“Yes.”

He was right indeed, but he had also ignored something that Elrond would not dare to neglect considering:

“But wouldn't the connection to the Ring necessary for that have to be extremely close?”

“Also yes.”

“And are you sure that you could still resist the Ring, despite such a connection?”

Elrond was mostly thinking about the progress that the Ring had seemed to make in Loki as a wraith, while the cold that had kept it back had receded. Loki had not seen that, but a part of him had felt it and he did remember his past encounters with the Ring. If he was to be entirely honest and knowing the risk if he fell, there was only one answer he could give:

“No. I can't be sure that I will resist it. So it must remain an emergency event. If all else fails and the Ring is about to be retaken by the wraiths or even their master, I can flee with it to the World of the Dead. But only as a last resort. And without it, we will have to try avoiding those Nine.”

Grim nods followed his words and he slowly, deep in thought, returned to his seat. The question at hand was what to do with the Ring once more. But then Gandalf of all people picked up on something else he had said:

“You mentioned 'Asgard'. Is that the world you come from?”

“Hm. It's not my birth realm, but it is the only one that I know to have a portal to this world.”

Gandalf considered his words, but his silence gave Gimli the chance to speak:

“Why not send the Ring to Asgard, then? There are rumours of that portal among our kin. No one knows where it really is, only that it is unreachably high for those that can't fly and that it is utterly invisible. You must be the only one who has ever found it. Why not send the Ring through it? Put it out of Sauron's reach?”

“Because that would put it into Odin's reach. And he is no better than Sauron, maybe even worse. If he had the Ring, he could reinstate Asgard's dominion over all of Yggdrasil. He could exterminate the freedom fighters among the light elves and subjugate the three worlds of the giants that have withstood his continued control so far. He could also use it to secure the submission of the changeable folk of dwarves and he might even attack my daughter's world. And if the Ring led him to Middle-Earth, which I have no doubt it would want to and could, then he would bring all this under his rule as well. Odin has an insatiable hunger for power. Even without the Ring. With it...”

Gimli gulped once and noted far more demurely:

“So that's a 'No' then.”

“Most certainly.”

For a moment there was only silence, but then Elrond concluded for them:

“There is no hiding it, no safe place for the Ring. It must be destroyed.”

And that, Gimli took as a chance to make up for his earlier embarrassment. Foolishly so. As if a non-magical axe could do anything to the Ring of Power. But a part of Loki was curious to see how the Ring would react. Ah, a small shock wave. The axe was shattered and Gimli thrown back. And confused. Loki tried not to sound too condescending, but he couldn't suppress it entirely:

“The Ring is alive with magic, Gimli. It creates an invisible shield strong enough to withstand an entire mountain falling down on it from the sky. What I am saying is: The Ring cannot be destroyed by any power we possess. Not even mine. It will need something special to disintegrate the magic inside and until that happens the physical object won't take any harm at all. Maybe something vital in its making... What do we know of that?”

That last part he directed at Elrond now and with a sinister look, the elf answered him: So the Ring had been created in a vulcano. And only that same one could melt it down again. Now they just needed to get the Ring into the heart of their enemy's sovereign territory. The human who had spoken earlier had a very colourful description. But Loki wasn't intimidated. Hel's realm was worse. Then he considered something else...

The Ring had a strong connection to the Dead and the description of Mordor reminded him of Helheim quite a bit. Suspiciously much even. And he knew that every realm had a portal to the World of the Dead... Could this world's portal be in Mordor? It had to be somewhere. And that really sounded like a probable placement. Huh, he might have just found the vague location of Middle-Earth's second portal to Yggdrasil.

But then Gloin started to speak and it pulled him back out of the recesses of his mind:

“Maybe we could avoid that. We don't have to walk into Mordor, do we? We have wizards. And even if some here are uncomfortable with giving the Ring to Loki, Gandalf could summon the Eagles! They could just fly over Mordor and drop the Ring into Mount Doom, right?”

The other dwarves got really excited then and even the humans were curious now, but most of the elves were doubtful and Loki just sighed.

“A great idea, if not for the invention of ranged weaponry, like artillery. Have the dwarves never heard of catapults? Wait, you must have. Ironfoot definitely had some kind of artillery on his chariots. He used it against Thranduil's army, I am sure.”

“Well, yes. But even though they pass through the air, those are only useful against enemies on the ground. No artillery could shoot high enough to bring one of the large eagles down. They fly out of reach.”

To that the human from earlier spoke up again:

“Minas Tirith has several trebuchets that can shoot high into the sky. They couldn't aim quickly enough to hit a moving target, but the height is no problem for us. And I don't know that for sure, but Minas Morgul may well have similar defences.”

Doubt reached even the dwarves now, so Loki pointed them to the result:

“The eagles can't hide in the sky, so they would be spotted early and would consequently become a target before they could even reach Mordor's borders. And we don't know the range and mobility of enemy's weaponry, but we know that it is possible for him to have quickly aimable artillery like the dwarves' with a sufficient reach like the humans'. There is a risk that he can shoot an eagle carrying the One Ring down. And if that happens, where would the Ring land?”

“Right at his feet”, concluded a frightened Frodo.

And a gruff Gloin commented: “So that's a 'No', too.”

Elrond nodded his agreement and now, almost excitedly, Gandalf spoke up:

“Someone has to take the Ring to Morder and destroy it. And the swiftness of the eagles can't help us here. What we need is stealth, and a great deal of courage.”

Instantly volunteers stepped forth and were criticised, which quickly escalated into a full-blown argument. Loki leaned back and waited until someone – he was hoping for Elrond here – would intervene and call them to calm down again. That didn't happen, though. Instead it was Frodo who spoke up. And Gandalf stepping up to him caused a chain reaction until the one chosen to do it had become six. At that point only did Loki himself arise:

“My beloved Thranduil would not like for his little leaf to go on such a dangerous journey alone.”

Instantly Legolas blushed at the nickname, madly so, but Loki wasn't done yet:

“And the Bilbo who stole the King under the Mountain's Arkenstone would have wanted the corrupting little treasure destroyed, too. For my old friend, who hardly exists in that shell anymore, I will make sure that it comes to that.”

Elrond nodded sadly at the reminder of the Ring-infected hobbit upstairs. And then he made to speak again in a ceremonial way, but he was interrupted. From the bushes came another hobbit, startling most, but Loki chuckled. More so, when two more hobbits came running from elsewhere, flustering the elf lord most comically. But honestly, what was a secret meeting that nobody eavesdropped on? Loki had always listened in on the meetings he had not been invited to and even Thor, who could not have been dragged to attend any he was invited to would always take a ban as a reason to come.

These hobbits, especially the last two, seemed like excellent apprentices for his art and, unlike the twins, these would spend the next weeks if not months in his proximity. He couldn't wait to be a bad influence on them. But it was always funny. Just not for the ones it hit. Elrond's face now was proof enough of that. But their host collected himself again and ceremonially pronounced them the to be the 'Fellowship of the Ring'.

Their journey could begin.

Chapter Text

...Could they get going already?

Gandalf and Elrond were so very subtly talking about him, it was grating on his nerves. But most others weren't bothered. They were saying goodbye to their associates, the family and followers they were leaving behind. But Loki had come with Legolas only and that meant that he had nothing to occupy him. Or he hadn't had anything to do, yet. Now he saw the twins about to leave. They weren't part of the company. Why would they leave?

He moved over and quietly asked:

“And what are you two off to on this very same day that we will use to depart from your home?”

“We ensure that the path is clear. And announce you to our grandmother.”

Loki didn't know which of the twins had answered in the first place, but the other one, whichever his name was, had something more to add:

“Tht would be te Lady Galadriel, whose forest, Lorien, is your first destination.”

“I have heard of her, but I had no idea that you were related. And so closely related at that. Through your mother, I assume? Elrond hardly seems to have any Sindarin blood in him.”

“Right you are.”

But that was no impressed tone or one in any other way positive. It was one of old hatred, of fierce grief. Something bad was the reason he had not met that mother along with the rest of her family.

“You lost her... What happened, if it is not too painful to remember?”

“It's alright. It's... orcs captured her. And we were able to free her alive, but it was too late. They had already tortured her. She was beyond what she could endure. So she left for the West to heal.”

“I am deeply sorry for your loss. My own mother died before my eyes, but I did not have the same bond with her at the time. I felt the real pain only afterwards. But pray tell, what is it with this 'West'? I feel that it means more than the direction. When my magic tries to help me understand your words, I feel an impression of heaven. But you put it at a contrast with death. So what is it?”

He didn't know how the All-Tongue would translate 'heaven' to them. The concept of the ultimate safe haven. But the twins just smiled softly.

“Life and death are irrelevant for heaven, aren't they? It is the land of magic, beauty and peace. The last destination of our kin. Especially now that these lands lessen, magic fading from them. Mankind is on the rise and our time is almost over. But we two won't go. Not while the kind of orcs still roams. If you will excuse us now, we have a mountain trail to take.”

“Of course. Go ahead. I expect to see you again someday.”

They nodded in acknowledgement and rode off. So, Loki concluded, Elrond's little fellowship was headed to his mother in law now? Interesting. He wondered what she would be like, even as he already turned back to the fellowship he would be part of. But as he did that, he saw Aragorn talking to a she-elf on his own way. They looked... rather like a couple, but seemed to be breaking up. Definitely a story he wanted to hear. Especially since the she-elf reminded him an awful lot of the twins. A sister?

He also noticed Elrond seeing them off with a gravely look to Aragorn, who in turn looked at the female with sadness, while she on the other hand gave Elrond a look of reproach. Yep, she was definitely his daughter and he appeared to have succeeded in telling her boyfriend to sod off.

Loki really wanted to hear more about that, but he was patient. For now. They started their journey and the human who had spoken up so often – because he deemed himself so very important, Loki interpreted – blared his horn for morale. Loki disliked him already. He had introduced himself as Boromir, the eldest son and heir of Denethor II the steward of Gondor.

In response, the Jotunn had sighed and listed: Loki, Silvertongue and Liesmith, the God of Mischief and Mayhem, son of Laufey the Queen of the Frost Giants and Odin Allfather the King of the Golden City of Asgard the Realm Eternal, slayer of Smaug the Tyrannical, the ice-dragon, bearer of the Ring of Winter, sire of Hel the Queen of the Dead, mother of monsters, wife to the Elvenking Thranduil Oropherion and Queen of the Woodland Realm. He wondered if he had forgotten something, but he had sufficiently stunned the man who had believed himself so very important, as well as everybody else for a bonus, so it was enough.

Thus they made their way towards the Misty Mountains and at the first chance he addressed the other, much more humble human with them. Aragorn.

“You have unusually elfin ways for a human. And I saw you with that she-elf who looks like she could be Elrond's daughter. Does he disapprove for something you have done, your race or is it just because you are a male with intentions for his baby girl?”

The human's movements slowed for a moment and he eyed Loki carefully. But this sadness remained his strongest emotion. And yet, it did not seem to be directed at his girl troubles alone. It almost felt like he mourned the whole world. Just like an elf. He was certainly interesting for a human and took his time to answer:

“I have elven ancestors. As she has human ones. But mine are too few and far away to share the long life she could enjoy if she chose to. I will never grow as old as she already is. Elrond disapproves, because he fears for her.”

“And that is also why you decided to push her away rather than giving her what she actually wants.”

“What she wants will hurt her. I can't make her watch me wither and die. You are lucky to be spared that, sharing your immortal life with another immortal.”

“Why does everybody here always think that I am immortal, just because my body is currently imitating an immortal's?”

“You're not?”

“I can live for millennia, but not forever. Slowly though it may be, I do still age. And one day I will die, I must, while my lover may survive. But that does not mean that I will try to save my own conscience from the guilt over his grief by distancing myself, thus condemning him to regret the waste of time we could have spent together after I have died.”

“...And what does he think about that?”

“He ignores my mortality so we can live together happily.”

“And what will happen, when you die?”

“I have no idea. Hopefully he'll focus on our child, or children. If they are long grown or already dead by the time he'll focus on his kingdom. If that is gone as well, he might kill himself. I know I would if I lost the last of my beloved. But because I know I will be welcome where I'll go. I just won't go on a journey of no return while there is still something worth staying here for.”

“So you meant it, you are the sire of a 'Queen of the Dead'?”

“You actually listened to all of that? And remembered it... But yes, I am. Proudly so. I wonder what she is doing now. She might even be watching. Or something better holds her attention. Maybe even five somethings by now. Huh, I don't suppose we can go by Mirkwood to check something, can we?”

“I doubt it.”

“Thought so. I know this is important. Too important to wander off.”

But still he kept thinking about Hel and her half-siblings slash adoptive children.

And so they made their way East, led by Gandalf, who still eyes him warily ever so often. They chatted at times or ignored each other. The hobbits mosty amused the taller folk with their antics, Aragorn smiling even through his long suffering sighs and handing out extra breakfasts with only fondness in his features.

As they came closer and finally reached the Misty Mountains, though, the complaining became more serious and less fun. And then it spread to the dwarf, Gimli, and the unpleasant human. As they tread increasingly higher and the air became increasingly colder, it got much much worse. At this point, every single word annoyed him more.

They ultimately had to slug and drag themselves through thick snow. And that was when their ever more huffy breathing and envious eyes sent his way became just too much. But Loki had one response to all that distaste: He decided to show off. So he magicked away most of his clothing, meaning all but a knee-length skirt and a royal cloak billowing in the light wind, and changed into his Jotunn form.

Thus he could walk by them almost naked and entirely unbothered by the freezing temperatures.

The mountains really were frosty, ideal for a frost giant, but he actually suspected that that was more about the height in general than these particular rock formations. They were quite high indeed by now. Even if that was not nearly high enough for a feel of the portal. Thinking about that portal still only reminded him more of Hel.

But he banned all such thoughts. He had an important mission now. He could focus back on her when Middle-Earth was safe again.

He missed Middle-Earth. He missed Erebor. He missed his home and hoard.

But honestly, he would have given up on his hoard, if he had known that it would bring him here. Here into this wasteland that went further than any eyes could see. He could still squash or burn the little ones. That hadn't changed. But the population had. He couldn't even remember the last time he had seen another dragon during his rule over the dwarven mountain...

Now he saw at least one every single day. And how he hated them! He had found a quiet place that hid him from most, but he couldn't deny that he was scared. Which he had never been before. And that made him angry. Anger, however, could bring only pain in this world. Because the simple truth of this world was that no matter how terrible a monster was, there is always one that was worse. He had been seen as massive at home, here he was moderate at best.

His fire was his greatest weapon here, because even his tail was vulnerable now. The end was bitten off already. The dragon king had done that when he had challenged the fireless beast. But Nidhogg had been unaffected by his flames and used his greater body and strength and his experience with the wily winds of Helheim to throw him to the ground and press him down.

When he had not stopped fighting but tried to sting his rival with the horns on his tail, the greater beast had simply bent his tail until it had broken, drawing howls of agony, and the hide had ripped open for him to bite through the soft flesh underneath. Even Nidhogg hadn't been able to bite through his scales, but the beast had still won anyway.

At that time, though, he had still been strong enough to secure a high rank among the other creatures. Now that wasn't true for him anymore. Now he could only hide and hope. He had made such a mistake...

After Nidhogg's victory he had tried to find a new territory to rule. And the dog guarding his way out had not looked capable of putting up much of a fight. So he had spouted a firestorm at him and attempted to fly over the doubtless charred remains. But he had been so so wrong.

The helhound had pounced as if there had never been a flame at all and clutched his throat with its claws, ripping them down the length of his neck, sending his scales flying in every direction. The hound had slashed his chest and shoulders, shredding his beautiful armour until he had retreated. No hit of his wings or bites had shown any effect on the seemingly unprotected body of the much smaller predator. His morale had evaporated fast as his pain had intensified. But not fast enough.

Because now, his armour was irreparably perforated. Now he was too easily defeated. So he kept his distance. And the others usually respected that. They all knew defeat or they wouldn't be here, in the afterlife. All but Nidhogg, who was apparently a native to this desolation. But now Smaug heard the tell-tale sounds of someone approaching. The scraping of their scaled limbs on the rock ground. His golden eyes were dim, these days. But his 'evil eye' could still turn various unwanted visitors away. And unwanted were all visitors here.

So he looked up grimly, only to be surprised. It was indeed a dragon, but it was tiny. Barely the size of an eye! That meant easy prey and Smaug made a move to devour it. But the tiny, pitch-black dragon made a screech and then gushed biting frost into Smaug's open mouth, burning his palate.

He jerked back, his jaws snapping shut. But now he was angry. He took a deep breath and unleashed fire, but the tiny dragon had used the moment he had needed to gather air and swung itself into the air. And now it soared around his head, screeching still.

That didn't really bother him, it wasn't that shrill. But the tiny dragon was unbelievably quick and agile, avoiding his fire, and suddenly the was another sting of frost. But that couldn't have come from the black one. He had seen that one at the moment he had felt the sting. It hadn't breathed frost. So he allowed it to leave his sight and turned to find a blue dragon of the same tininess floating behind him. There were two of them! But then he realised that he knew that blue. It was the colour of Loki! Just like the first one's eyes had looked like Loki's.

Smaug didn't know what to make of that and stopped his attack as the screeching continued. It went on until three more tiny dragons had come and were circling over and around him like vultures over a carcass. Then he realised that two reminded him an awful lot of himself. But this couldn't mean what he thought it meant, could it?

Then Nidhogg descended and spoke to them in that language Smaug couldn't understand. He couldn't fathom that the king asked the princes if they were content now, finally having found their sire, and who they would consider their father.

He only heard the screechy outcries of “Fadir! Fadir! Fadir!” as they moved to orbit Nidhogg's head now. The greater dragon sent him one last derisive look that seemed to say 'I thought as much' and turned around. But Smaug knew that his glory days were over. He was a pitiful sight now, crippled and with too many scales torn out, letting the abrasive winds in to carve out his flesh. He had no way of knowing whether his suspicion was true, but he wouldn't stake a claim on them in either case.

They were blooming princes and growing up under Nidhogg's protection offered them the best chances. He had no capacity for fatherly love. Not any love but that of gold, which he was cursed to crave. But he was proud at heart and his own body did not justify such pride anymore. It was too shattered, too torn. If his blood ran through those dragonlings' veins, though, then he would be able to feel pride in their successes. They were the future. His and that of this lifeless realm.

And that future was regal. He just felt it. He just didn't yet know that one day, each dragonling would become the ruler of their own realm.

Try as he might, but Loki could not banish the thoughts of his children from his mind.

He needed an answer. He needed to contact Thranduil, so he could use the shrine. But Thranduil would want to know about the Ring. And he needed to know. Elrond had demanded that they speak of it to no one, but Loki didn't have a great record of submitting to the authority of others anyway.

So one night he sneaked from their camp at night and whispered to his bracelet bird. He knew that it could potentially be intercepted by another mage, but he had to tell his king, so he spoke for him alone to understand. Thranduil would worry if he didn't hear from them. It had to be.

“My love, it will be long before we meet again. You were right to fear what you did when I lost our charge. But gather hope. Of all kinds. Legolas and I will need to run an errand before we can return. Like the first time we met, when I was headed to the Lonely Mountain. But we will be safe this time, too. Don't worry. Please. Safety is our aim. You know as it much as we do. We love you. ...And could you tell how my children are?”

Thranduil was mortified as he heard that.

The One Ring was found indeed and all kinds, meaning members of all species, had gathered on a mission. To a mountain...? Mount Doom. A gathering was headed for Mordor. With Legolas and Loki in it?! But he knew how to interpret the rest, too. Yes, he knew that the Ring had to be destroyed to save them all. But it made the 'We love you' sound all the more like 'I do not know if we will ever meet again, so goodbye'. He knew the necessity. But he prayed that it would not cost him his beloved. Not again.

Remembering the sudden burst of flame from the previously only dusting shrine, he sent an answer. But it was short, for he choked on the pain of his fear of loss.

“They fly.”

Chapter Text

They got ever higher. And they got ever colder.

But Loki didn't care. His hermaphrodite shape had evolved in much colder surroundings. The eternal winter of Niflheim. This was really just a joke in comparison. And it wasn't even snowing, there was no wind! Still they shivered and pulled their clothes tighter around themselves, marching through the snow in a line as to not waste energy on parting it each for themselves. The climb was exhausting enough for them.

So exhausting that someone tumbled and rolled down again. Loki turned to look at the sound and found it to be Frodo, who promptly landed in Aragorn's arms. But something was off. The Ring had flared. He sought the source of its song with his eyes and found it dangling from Boromir's hand. So it had found the weakest mind. But Aragorn cleared the situation. It still didn't help the hobbits' exhaustion, though. Or the cold. So Legolas, the traitor, asked Loki for help.

“Can't you use your magic? Just for the hobbits? They weren't made for this like you were.”

“I'm afraid I can't change the climate, sweetie. Well, not to make it less wintry. If you're hot I could change that, but not the other way around. That's just not really me.”

“But you could use your shapeshifting! Can't you turn into a bear again? You were so big and fluffy, I'm sure you could carry all the hobbits and warm them at the same time.”

All eyes turned to Loki and he wanted to slap the elfling for forcing this indignity on him, but that was not an option under their observation, so he begrudgingly turned, shifting into his shape of a massive she-bear. He laid down to lower his back and the men eagerly lifted all the hobbits on top of him. Then he trotted on with a derisive snort and quickly moved passed the others. If they were going to guilt-trip him into carrying four hobbits on his back, they might as well stare at his hairy arse. But Legolas smiled to himself when Aragorn gave him a pat on the back and leaned in to whisper his thanks.

Loki was gruff from then on, but the hobbits clearly enjoyed themselves, snuggling into his warm fur or saluting their followers from higher up. It might well be the first time in their lives that they were higher than everyone else. But they soon changed their behaviour and just tried to bury themselves in his fur. It was getting windy. Actually, he realised, a storm was coming.

Strange. He hadn't seen or smelt any of the signs. And it was getting worse fast. He sped up in the hope to find some kind of shelter in the rocks they were nearing, so that they could just wait out the storm and move on later. But the steep walls and deep abyss offered no help.

Instead they narrowed the path. Loki went as far as he could, but the point came where a layer of the wall under them must have broken off, cutting the path in half. His bear-form was too big for this route. He grunted in displeasure and awaited the others. Gandalf was highly suspicious of this trail, as he apparently remembered it rather differently. But he was more concerned with the weather and it was up to the men to take the hobbits off Loki again and try to support them against the cold themselves.

Loki turned back to his Jotunn self and followed the wizard leading them. Then he thought he'd heard a word, but it hadn't come from anyone in the fellowship. Yet Gandalf looked up, too. There was speech. And it came from out of the storm. So that explained the sudden appearance of this weather anomaly. It was artificial! The work of the white wizard, Saruman, a traitor to them and ally of the enemy. Or so Gandalf said. Even though Loki did not deem him entirely reliable, especially considering the wizard's pitiful attempts to counteract the storm.

That couldn't be done from here, he knew. No disease was ever cured by fighting its symptoms. And this storm was created and fuelled far far away. Too far away to do anything but evade it. And Gandalf learned that, too, when the storm reacted to his attempts with a lighting bolt breaking rocks loose above them. Only by instantly pressing hard against the wall could they avoid being torn along and disappearing into the abyss. But with the storm getting worse, they would not make it much longer, either. Their only hope was to flee before it encased them entirely.

A human shouted as much, but Loki had thought that anyway, so he didn't care much for it. That was until the dwarf called them to go through Moria.

“NO!”

Loki and Gandalf stared at each other just as stunned as everyone else that these two agreed for once, having yelled in unison. And Legolas dreaded what both magicians could be so vehement about, so he tried to find another way:

“Loki! Can't you carry us to safety?!”

“I would! Trust me, I would carry even the last of you, but I can't! My only shape big enough to support all of you is the dragon, but if I shifted into that one, these winds would catch my wings at once and throw us against the next mountainside! I would probably survive that, but none of you!”

The dwarf called for Moria again and the majority looked to Gandalf for guidance, who left the decision to Frodo. What the...?! Frodo obviously chose Moria. And Loki was not pleased.

“Why should the one with the least experience in wandering the wild get to decide? His judgement is poorly educated at best... He is is far too biased for this choice, knowing the downside of one option only he will of course choose the other!”

Gandalf of all people seemed to hesitate at that, but most just wanted to get out of the cold and Gimli was insulted that he should disregard Balin's hospitality so. He didn't. Not really. He would be delighted to meet Balin again, too. But he dreaded the meaning of the pungent goblin smell so close to the dwarves' presumed lodgings. He also knew, though, that they wouldn't believe him now. He had no choice but to follow them. Down from the heights that he felt far more comfortable with.

That of course delayed their crossing of the mountains. But this time, Loki would not be slowed by them. As soon as the weather allowed it, he turned into a falcon and flew high above them. This Saruman had known their path. He had to have a spy. Loki did remember the Crebain, but one look would not have told the white wizard when to start his storm. They must have learned to not show themselves anymore.

So Loki was on the proverbial lookout, far above keeping an eye on their surroundings. Nothing was overt. Nothing but the grey clouds all the way to a distant tower. He couldn't quite make it out in the distance, but it would be no hardship to follow the trail and attack the tower. The wizard inside had to be quite sure of himself, giving himself away to willingly even though this feat would have greatly weakened him. Maybe he just overestimated himself. Or maybe he underestimated Loki.

That Gandalf was no threat to him was clear enough. If the grey wizard even thought that he could have defeated his rival, Loki doubted that he would have fled so easily, giving up on the strategic vantage point that was Orthanc. Legolas had answered some of his questions about Saruman. And the 'Palantir' he apparently possessed, Gandalf's words, was most interesting for Loki. A telecommunicative artefact could only be of use to him, who had no natural talent for such, but many questions for distant people.

He was momentarily distracted from his musings by a flutter of black he thought might have been a crow, but it turned out to be just a blackbird. That was fine with him, though. His stomach had been rumbling for a while and a bear would eat more than they could carry. So a blackbird snack it was. He was irked to chase it, play with it. But he had another obligation, so he made himself invisible and grabbed the clueless little bird from the air. Once it was caught in his talons, he let go of his veil and broke its neck with his beak.

Then he lowered himself to the company again and took a seat on Legolas shoulder, which surprised the elf – it was really just a bit of innocent payback for having had to carry him before. But again the wizard was suspicious. That might have been because of his earlier agreement, though. In any case, he spit some feathers at the shell-shocked fool and ignored him from then on.

He ignored everything from then on, just letting himself be carried.

But slowly he felt the terrain change around them. Hollin. He turned back into his elven shape then, but reconsidered after a moment and assumed his Jotunn shape again. He didn't really need it now, but it was still stronger than the she-elf and he didn't know when they would come across unfriendly folk and other fauna, or even unfriendly flora really. But he did know that it was just a matter of time. He didn't like this place. When they neared the water, he was definitely convinced that this was no better than the mountaintops. This area reeked of decay and of goblins. Though mostly of their blood.

He didn't even mourn the pony they left behind, although it was really a waste of good meat. The water kept his focus. It didn't feel like a lake. It felt like a puddle. Strange, considering its size. He admitted to himself that he might simply be used more to seas than lakes. But he doubted that that was the problem. This lake just felt like a thin layer to him. But because it wasn't very deep? Or because something else was hiding just beneath the surface. He felt small. And frankly that freaked him out.

So Loki was impossibly relieved when Gandalf found the gate under the moonlight. Not so much anymore, when the grey wizard failed to open it. Idiot. But he was too on edge from the dark water so close to them to properly concentrate himself. He just wanted to get away from it. After the wizard's third failed attempt, he had enough. He turned into a bird again and got some distance between himself and the still surface.

He dearly tried to will this fear that it evoked in him to rest, but every thought of the water sent a shudder through him. So he tried to not think about it. He envisioned Gandalf finally opening the gate and and all of them getting safely inside and being greeted by Balin and feasting and all that nice stuff. That worked for a time. But then he heard something utterly terrifying. A plop! Something had disrupted the stillness of the lake. He rushed down with his wings tight to his body and landed harshly as a fight-ready Jotunn just as Aragorn scolded the clearly suicidal hobbit responsible.

But the damage was done. He could feel it in the ground beneath his feet. Tiny tremors caused by the masses of water that moved underneath the reflective surface. He barely heard the voices that cheered, only the grinding of stone over stone as the wings of the gate swung open. Gimli was the cheeriest as they entered at last. But the smell proved him dread correct. The dwarves of Moria were dead and goblins inhabited the mine instead.

However, those were the least of Loki's problems.

Boromir said that they should have gone through Rohan. And he was right about that. He also tried to get them to retreat along the shore of the lake. But he was wrong about that. In the corner of his eye, Loki saw the wet coil of flesh wind itself around Frodo's ankle and then the hobbit was jerked back. The fellowship fought it, or they tried to at least, but that had only one result: More tentacles shot out of the water. It came from underneath. An ancient creature from out of the depth.

Dozens of arms grabbed at them and the thing craned its many-eyed head from the water, intent to draw them under and devour them. And there were far to many limbs to fight them with swords, axes or bows. But the wizard, who had the best means to fight it, used only his sword, too. He had walked among mortals for too long. So Loki drew from Rhîwya and sent a gust of frost over its arms and into its head. The creature shrieked and dropped its hold of the hobbits.

But it was not defeated. Loki knew nothing about this creature, but he could assume that it was far bigger in the depth than it appeared on the surface. Also he didn't have the casket anymore and he Ring of Winter was not designed for direct attacks. All in all, he did not expect to have caused more than a bad case of the brain freeze. But a momentary distraction had been enough to free the ones it had grabbed.

“It's just dizzy. Everyone into the mine! NOW!”

They followed his order without a second thought, but the water creature was not out of it for long. Yet long were its limbs. Very much so. The entire fellowship ran back inside, but the watcher knew who the attack had come from. And a moment later one thick arm coiled tightly around Loki's waist, instantly ripping him back so his head smacked into the stony ground as he fell. He was dizzied and but a moment later pulled under.

The entire creature disappeared from the surface and left them with no sign of life.

“LOKI!!!”

Legolas was shocked, he wanted to run right out again, but Aragorn stopped him. What was happening? Why wasn't Loki coming up again? He had to breathe! Didn't he? Was he even still alive? ...What would he tell his father?

But then the water shivered before their eyes and a massive, azure blue, spiked and red-eyed head burst from the lake to gulp in air. None of the fellowship had ever seen this before. They had only heard the stories. But then a tentacle wrapped around the slender blue neck. The dragon hissed, baring his teeth on instinct and dove down to bite and tear and rip the offender to shreds.

He had big lungs. He could hold its breath. And now that the fear of drowning had abated, he fought.

Waves and fountains were pushed up by their winding and coiling masses, here a limb of blue scales broke through the surface and there one of grey skin.

They watched in morbid fascination as several severed limbs were tossed out by the dragon's fang, but always there were more wrapping around him, pulling him under again and again. The watcher had no means to penetrate the dragon's hide. But it could use its strength to break the beast's bones, asphyxiate him by crushing his chest or constricting his throat or drowning him by pulling him under for longer than his breath would last.

It also had the advantage of fighting in its element. The dragon on the other hand was slowed in the water, but it had sharp teeth, claws and thorns that cut into his enemy with ease. The only problem with that was that said enemy could afford taking injuries and even losing limbs.

To defeat it, the dragon needed to pull it from the water to suffocate it or have it crushed by its own weight, freeze its brain for real or crush its skull with his jaws. But he didn't have the strength to lift the sea-monster. So its head it was.

And he tried, he really tried, but every time he went for its head, more arms would slink into his way and attack him. He couldn't fight it like this. Not under the water. He was too slow, too reliant on getting to the surface for air. And there were too many arms wrapped around his chest, squeezing the air from his lungs. It was too much. He needed to get out of the depth and back into the air. He needed to fly. So he set a new target, ignoring the enemy.

He just needed to get out of the lake.

So he tried to grab something on the surface to pull himself out, still biting and clawing with his taloned feet at the other who would drag him down. One wing found hold on the shore, unknowingly sending the fellowship running: A huge wing had just swung out of the water and stomped down right in front of them. They parted to evade the spearlike claws attached to it. But then the wing was jolted and slipped as the dragon's body was turned.

The watcher knew his plan, too.

But the movement that ripped him down and turned him over sent his tail snapping like a bowstring. He groaned went it landed hard before it slipped back into the water. But that was nothing like the terror of the fellowship. Giants battled right before them, not even noticing them and that had been a hair's breath between living and becoming a blotch of collateral damage. Even the mountain had suffered from it.

There really was no joking about a dragon's scaled and spiked tail whipping through the air and landing only inches from their fragile bodies.

To their misery, it had hit the edge of the gate, too. Gandalf wanted them to run away, hoping to avoid the flailing limbs, before they would have no way left but the goblin-infested mine. But even his loyal Aragorn shook his head when another wing came up, wiping across the ground and taking several cracking trees with it like cornstalks under the swipe of a scythe. Leaving the mine with that duel still in motion would kill them all. So they had no other choice but to wait it out, watching anxiously.

Then the dragon seemed to leap from the water, it had both wings in the air! But tentacles held his hind legs and tail. The dragon roared in fury and beat his huge wings, creating new waves that lapped at the entrance to the mine. But the hold was firm. So he tossed his tail, trying to get that loose at least so he could use it as a weapon again and snap the arms gripping him. Those arms holding it hindered his movements, though.

And yet each swing gave him more momentum.

One back move had it crashing into a rock formation he hadn't noticed. That ached, but it also shredded the soft water creature's flesh between his scales and the hard stone. He could use that. So he tossed and whipped his tail into the rocks and the mountainside, desperately trying to get rid of those countless arms. He couldn't keep beating his wings that hard forever, the watcher was too strong and heavy for that. He needed to get rid of them fast or he would be pulled down again.

As his fury and despair mixed, his focus on the enemy only, he didn't care for the chucks of stone that he was breaking loose from his surroundings. Not until he saw one fall onto the sea-monster, wounding it badly enough to make it bleed. He could use that, too. Norns knew, he needed everything he had. So he threw his horned head into the mountainside, his wings keeping him up, and tossed the loosened rocks at the watcher in the water with his mouth.

It got so angry at that. So very angry it jerked at him with all its strength.

His wings faltered and before he could be pulled under again he grabbed at the mountain for hold, digging his wings' claws into the stone as far at they would go. Under the pull down, his claws carved crevices into the mountain and thus unleashed a small avalanche of boulders and debris. And that was the last they saw of him before the entrance was shut under the rain of rocks.

They heard his growls. But Loki and the light were shut out, while the rest of the fellowship was locked into the mine.

Chapter Text

On the outside, the tides had turned.

Loki finally got a firm grip on the land. He whipped his spiked tail against the surfacing head and tossed boulders at it with his mouth. That drove the watcher back by a bit, calming his panic and giving him some time to think logically. With his concentration returning he focused his inherent cold on the skin of his lower body and the sea monster recoiled from the frostbite penetrating its soft skin.

The moment he was loose, he jumped again and this time he escaped the creature's reach, flying higher than its tentacles could stretch from out of the water. He rejoiced and laughed above, but he doubted that the beast was intelligent enough to be insulted. It was still too close to the mine entrance, though. It was still a danger. So he gathered his cold. It was in his body and in his ring and this particular form had been created under the magical influence of the Casket of Ancient Winters, too.

As ironic as it was, this other form was more powerful with cold than his original frost giant form. But this was Rhîwthûl, the Winterbreath. Without the casket, he would never be as mighty as he had been with it. But he didn't have to fight the unfathomable, dry heat of a firedrake now. This sea monster was already cool and wet. Perfect for him. He took his time gathering the cold in his lungs and dove down. The watcher made to catch him again. But he didn't get that far.

Before he was gripped, Loki unleashed the gathered cold and froze the surface of the lake. As soon as the dragon's breath hit the surface and the threat became clear, the watcher made to submerge itself to find cover under the water. And it saved its head, but some stray limbs that had reached too far trying to pull him back were caught by the frost. They blackened and died in the cold, only to break off like glass at the barest swish of his tail.

Still, the watcher was clearly intelligent enough to know when to retreat from a fight. And so it stayed alive. Loki took no risk with that then. He held himself in the air until the entire lake was covered and added to the cold more and more until the layer of ice above the water was thick enough not to crack under his weight.

He tested that of course, landing on the frozen lake and growling at it, but there was no glimpse of the creature underneath nor any damage on its cell door. The ice would thaw, of course. With time. But not nearly quickly enough to be a problem for him anymore. Them. It couldn't become a problem for them anymore. But speaking of them, where was the fellowship? He looked around, but didn't spot any of them. So he sniffed the air instead and found himself drawn to heap of rubble. Had he buried them?! But he smelled no blood other than the water beast's.

Then he realised that this heap of rubble covered the spot where the gate to Moria used to be. Well, shit.

They were buried, in a way. But he had the strength of a dragon. So he started picking up the rocks and tossing them to the side to free the entrance. A bigger one seemed stuck, but he pulled with both wings and it moved. Which was not so good, after all, because a large portion of the mountainside moved with it, cringing like the ceiling of a hall, when too many columns are removed.

That was really not good. The mountainside was getting destabilised. If he pulled too many rocks out from under it, the whole thing could collapse onto the fellowship inside. He couldn't risk that, he couldn't reopen the gate. They needed to find another way out. But that would mean that they were alone inside.

Inside of a place so dangerous that even Thranduil had utterly lost his composure within the blink of an eye, just because a dwarf had suggested that Loki should go there. And now, Legolas was in there. Alone. The rest of the fellowship didn't count for this, as they were clearly no help against monsters.

So it was not that they needed to find another way out. Loki needed to find another way in. As quickly as he could. Before they were found by a creature they couldn't fight. But where was another way? He had been inside the Misty Mountains before, but the Goblin City had no connection to Moria, as far as he knew anyway. Yet he had heard of another gate. Azo... Aza... Azanulbizar! Thorin had named it the place of Azog's first defeat and presumed death. And it was on the other side of the Misty Mountains.

But the storm was still raging overhead... Well, he had no choice. He had to fly around the mountains, around the storm. He would fly invisibly, if he could, but his shadow would be so far beneath him, he couldn't hope to see it. And he couldn't lay an illusion on something that was so far away and that he didn't even see himself. So it would remain visible. Damn it. Well, to Hel with secrecy, the crows had seen them anyway. He would just fly fast and high. With that decided, he leapt into the sky and turned to the South.

Now it was still and silent.

No more roars and shattering. And no longer did the mountain groan above their heads from its own weight. They would not be crushed today. Not physically, at least. But Legolas felt that mentally he already had been, just listening to his 'fellowship' talk about his queen. A monster, they called him. A terrible force of destruction. Gandalf was first in line again to blame Loki for their current predicament.

Legolas countered that without Loki, they might as well reside in the belly of that beast in the water now. Most certainly would be, actually.

Of course, Gandalf argued that they could have escaped it by going further into the mine, out of its reach, and waited until it went back to sleep before they would have returned out passed the lake and to Rohan. But even as he said that, Gandalf didn't seem convinced that they could have ever gotten passed the Watcher in the Water again. A creature that old had to be patient. It would more likely have waited for them to step into its reach in a false sense of safety only to drag them down and devour them, before going back to sleep.

Either way, they had to go through the mine now. Maybe they would see Loki again on the other side. But until then, they would have to try sneaking through the cold, dead halls of Moria without their greatest ally at their side. He prayed that they would not be discovered until Loki was back with them.

These orcs had defeated an entire folk of dwarves. There was just no way for a group of nine to survive the hoards that would have taken. But a dragon could defeat a folk. As Smaug had defeated the kingdoms of Dale and Erebor both in one day. A dragon could defeat the army of orcs in the halls.

So he prayed for Loki's swift return.

Great wings carried him fast indeed, far above all crow-spies, and Dunland fled beneath him. The dark clouds reached far, all the way from the Redhorn to the wizard's tower. When Loki saw its end in the distance and the spiky black stick underneath it, that slowly widened into a building as he neared it, he was sorely tempted to attack it. With enough speed behind him, ramming all his weight into the top of the tower should crack it in two.

But he didn't know the material, nor the magical shield in its structure. It should crack, yes, but if it withstood, Loki's bones would be what cracked at the clash instead. And he didn't actually want to risk that. Falling from the sky disabled was not good under any circumstances. Even less so when Legolas needed him. And least of all when it would leave him in he hands of a magically gifted enemy. So he would not try that. He could freeze the tower, though.

That, however, would mean coming pretty damn close and he was not exactly ready to find out whether Saruman was more prone to really using his powers than Gandalf. So no attacks on Orthanc. Or Isengard in general. No matter the opportunity, it was a risk he should not take. So instead he flew higher in an attempt to appear small and inconspicuous, as if he was just a bird.

That was, of course, doomed to fail, but it would still be less bothersome for him than to deal with the temptation to attack something.

Thinking about his form and shadow, though, Loki had forgotten one key thing.

It was faint, almost imperceptible for his own ears as he rushed forth. But on the ground behind him, the beating of his wings against the wind was like a storm. Thunderous and loud. Every creature looked up at the sound, but saw no gathered and darkened clouds. Most saw nothing, because the sound only reached them long after he had already flown passed. But the White Wizard high upon his tower saw him. A dragon flying from Eriador to Rhovanion, not to the North but to the South of the Misty Mountains.

A dragon this far south...

This had not happened in ages. Not since the War of Wrath, he imagined. But this was no dragon from back then. Saruman tried to feel for it with his mind and felt magicks not from this world. So it was true. The rumours coming from the men of Dale... The Elvenking of Mirkwood had conjured a dragon from another world, one that had fought Smaug along with their late king and lived in the dark of the forest, where it served the elves. Unless the Sindarin king wished to travel, of course, which he did astride the beast.

Saruman couldn't rely on the details, since men were imaginative and had flimsy memories.

Some of what they said could be false or even most of it, but not all. Clearly, it was true that there was a foreign dragon in Middle-Earth. And it apparently supported Gandalf's opinion on the ring. Or maybe he was just generally on the side of the elves. But who had conjured it? He doubted that any elves' abilities reached that far. But somehow this had happened. And now he needed to deal with it.

Fortunately, the dragon seemed to ignore him for now. He was not exactly eager to face it unprepared. Nor to face Sauron if he killed a potential ally or even one who was an ally already and had infiltrated their enemies' lines. Smaug would have been highly egotistical and thus a difficult ally, making him expendable. Especially if sacrificing him had given them an easier, better ally, the trust of their enemies and thus access to their secrets.

So he didn't act without asking Sauron about this dragon first. And that was his most important task now. Therefore Saruman abandoned the storm that had he could safely assume to have served its purpose by now and went down to his palantir to contact Sauron:

'Master, we have a situation. We might have a great enemy. Or a great ally. A dragon of foreign origin has just passed Orthanc from West to East. The rumour is that the Elvenking of Mirkwod conjured it and it killed our associate Smaug. How shall we deal with this stranger?'

'I know of him. He was in Dol Guldur. He touched my One. He slew Smaug alone. He called to mine in the elven vale. And his mind is poisoned by them. He does not know it yet, but he is on the brink. He will be their puppet soon. Or ours. Leave him to me. He will be a slave and I can make him mine. A dragon to lead my army.'

A slave? Saruman was surprised that the elves had such power, but they could never compete with the united force of Sauron and Saruman. With whatever they had done, they had just made it easier to use the dragon. A living war machine: A siege tower, catapult and battering ram combined into a single creature. Dragons had been designed for war and now they would have one for themselves.

He could only hope that he would not be sacrificed for this great ally. But he had better chances like this than if he fought it. He would survive. And he doubted that Gandalf would. The fool should have listened. Now he was headed for the caverns of a demon.

A dragon in the sky. Only one. But it was more than enough. The very ground quivered under its roar. But the ground was water, gushing down from the broken remains of a stone wall. And trees were in the water. But the ground and its water and the trees didn't matter. Only the dragon did. Its big eyes were like blood, but full of fury for the spiked tower in the middle of the water.

And the dragon's massive body headed for that one as well. It neared with strong beats of its wide wings and gripped the tower with its hind legs' claws, its tail wound around the building and tightened around it. It tightened and heightened the pressure until the rock groaned under its strength, threatened to break the tower apart. And the wings gripped the sides of the tower, too, not caring about its spikes at all.

A white-clad man with a dark staff stood on top and seemed about to hit the dragon with magic, but it anticipated the attack and hurled cold at the stone. The tower was frozen over and creaked under the continued pressure on its ever weakening structure. That forced the man to rethink. So he called out instead. But he didn't beg. He tried to bargain for his life, offering the dragon power if he allied himself with Sauron. And the dragon stopped its assault, a look of consideration taking over its face.

Thranduil woke with a start.

He knew Loki when he saw him. He knew that it had been him. Or would he be? But why by everything dear would Loki even consider it? He was somewhat relieved when a growl that sounded remotely like “Nice try, wizard” shuddered through him, but he needed to know that for sure. He tried to find his way back into the vision, but landed somewhere else entirely. And he wished that he hadn't. Because now, he saw moors and a breathless and unscaled, grey-skinned wyvern landing in them.

And astride him was a Nazgûl. But not just any random one. It was the Witchking of Angmar:

“Greetings, mage queen. I feel it close.”

“But you won't find it. Not unless I let you...”

Chapter Text

Poor Loki, he thought.

Legolas himself had never known Balin, but he knew that Loki had always spoken fondly of him. Even his father had once said something positive about this dwarf and that proved what a remarkable creature he had to have been. If even Thranduil of the Woodland Realm, the Elvenking most notoriously despising all dwarves, had complimented him... But now he was dead and buried. Killed by goblins. Oh, how much he hated their kind.

But considering the fellowship's own numbers right now and the numbers of goblins that would have been necessary to take Moria from the dwarves, he swallowed down his hatred and hoped that they would not face each other. It really would be best not to be noticed and just get through the mine without incidents. When one of the hobbits, which Gandalf had said to be the stealthiest of folks, ruined that, it was not hatred making his heart beat faster. It was dread. They were hopelessly outnumbered and trapped without any way out.

Their only hope was that the disorganised masses would not attack all at once. If the first arriving would wait in front of the door, keeping them in, until the greater hordes joined them, the fellowship would be lost. But the goblins of Moria proved themselves dumb and he could hope, when the first arriving attacked at once. If the fellowship managed to kill them quickly, they might get out before more reached them. But for that, they first had to survive these.

All nine remaining members of the fellowship fought tooth and nail and at first it seemed to be working as the disgusting little beasts died like flies. But then something else arrived.

High as the ceiling and stronger than the lot of them combined: A cave-troll. Please, no. Legolas shot it again and again, but its thick hide repelled his arrows and even if one took, he doubted that it would do much damage, getting stuck part way through the beast's multiple dermal and lipid layers. He needed to find an unprotected spot or ...daylight! Trolls turned to stone if exposed to the light of the sun, didn't they?

Just how to get sunlight into these dark halls... They needed magic to fight this monster, that even swords bounced off of. He racked his brains to remember. Loki had sometimes talked to his father about it. He had been watching them a lot. And he overheard some of what Loki had told his father: All elves had magic by nature, but they generally used it only subconsciously. They could be taught active usage, but it was hard and risky. Spells gone wrong and over-exertion had killed many an apprentice before.

With all their lives in danger already he would try it anyway, if only he knew how.

But they had always spoken about feeling the magic and he just didn't. Gandalf would, though. He turned to the wizard, wanting to ask him to use his magic already. But right then, he heard a scream and looked up, only to see the troll impaling their ring-bearer.

All thought was forgotten and the entire fellowship focused only on the troll until the hobbits stabbing it got the beast to throw its head back, revealing its soft throat. He rushed under it and shot upwards, right into its brain.

The troll was dead and against their fears, Frodo was not. He was badly bruised and his ribs might have been cracked, but he could still stand. The mail of mithril over his skin had not been penetrated. Pushed by the blunt force, but not cut by the pointed tip of the spear. Thank the Valar. But they didn't have much more time before more orcs would come for them. So they ran. As fast as they could through the gigantic hall with its massive columns.

Yet arrows flew and orcs crawled down the columns and up from chasms, coming at them from all sides. And these were far more than before. Hundreds over hundreds of them. And now, the fellowship was surrounded. They came to a stop before the orcs in front of them. But there were orcs everywhere. Far too many to fight. This was it. They were doomed. They could try to take as many as possible with them, but they would never get out of this alive.

They would loose the Ring...

He could only pray that Loki would be able to reclaim it from the goblins before it fell to Mordor and finish the mission alone.

Fear and guilt went through the hearts and minds of the fellowship.

Fear of pain. Fear of death. And the guilt of a failed leader, who has led his charge into peril. Gandalf felt it and Aragorn, too. But while the world around them seemed to slow before the clashing end, a red glow rose to engulf them. Befitting of the atmosphere. Right until they questioned how it came to be. The goblins, too. And they looked up and saw two massive red eyes, bright enough to light the crowd and higher than anyone could reach.

But the glow also illuminated a scaled snout, violet from the red light, and rows of bared fangs, ready and eager to dig into flesh. For a moment, nothing happened. They all just stared, frozen in terror. Then an orc somewhere squeaked, breaking the spell, and the red-eyed monster dropped from its held up position among the columns, cracking the ground beneath its feet and squashing goblins with its mass. With that all hesitance was swept away and, before the other orcs could decide whether to attack or to run, bright white beams shot from the creature's mouth, freezing dozens of orcs to death within the blink of an eye.

Blasts of frost rained down on the horde, killing more and more and a mighty tail swiped down yet more by the dozens, flattening them against the ground. That in turn had those still alive decide with ease and the orcs fled, screeching in panic. The ice-monster made to move after them, but it was so massive that the columns, far apart for them, hindered its movements, catching its long wings on every turn. Wings... Then even the last ones made the connection between red eyes and ice.

The goblins fled and the company cheered. Most of them half-heartedly, since they were still quite terrified of the huge dragon, but Legolas was overjoyed to see his queen alive and well. And to still be alive and well himself. As soon as the situation had calmed enough to give them a moment of reprieve, Loki lowered his head to them to scan them for injuries and Legolas went forth to hug the giant snout in elation.

“Thank you so much. But how did you even get here?”

“I went the long way round and came in from the other side. It is a while more that way and there are many narrow passages I couldn't have slipped through like this, but I wanted those scoundrels to know who was in charge from the start. They were quite many, so I doubt we would have had reason to feel overly confident, had they chosen to fight.”

“Not us, but they could hardly have harmed you. Could they?”

“Not while I am like this. Not the orcs at least. But there is something else down here...”

In his relief at their saving, Legolas dismissed the notion and most others, too. Boromir even laughed that there could hardly be anything a dragon would have to be afraid of. But Gandalf did not.

And the others suddenly reconsidered as well, when a sound the like of which they'd never heard before reached their ears and a bright shine lit the columns in the distance. Boom. Loki stepped back, bumping into a column again and cursing his bulky shape. Boom. Now Boromir asked if he had meant that and asked what it was.

Boom sounded another heavy footstep and Gandalf answered for him. And he shouted for them to run.

They did, but in trying to turn Loki hit both his head and tail against hard stone again. Realising that he couldn't fight the balrog either way and his form was only a hindrance down here, he shed it for a smaller one, his original, and ran after them. The narrow passages could help them now. Because the demon was tall. A dragon would physically have dwarfed him, even though sheer size could not have helped him fight against the demon's magic, but to humans he was massive.

Not that he would need his mass. Thranduil had told him of their kind. Balrogs were Maiar, just like the wizards, he had said. But they were not the same; he knew demons. Wizards were sophisticated, like dogs compared to wolves. The wilder beasts, the demons, were far closer to nature, far more volatile and therefore unpredictable.

Their elemental attributes made them considerably more powerful and thus dangerous, in his opinion. Like Muspel had been a great fire giant king in his time, but his son and heir Surtur, who was rumoured to be a crossbreed with a demon, was far, far worse than his father ever could have been.

Loki did not want to face a demon, not directly at the very least.

So they ran and soon passed a narrow door before long stairs. There was a gap in them that would hold them back, steal from their much needed time. But the door could also give them some time back. So, while the others slowly made their way over the gap, he turned back and conjured a magical web to hold the stone around the door together. When the beast reached the door, it hit it with its strength to break through the flimsy wall and take them.

And the wall cracked, but it didn't break through as it should have. It was supposed to be rubble on the floor now, but it still stood.

The balrog roared and hit the wall again, while the fellowship panicked on the other side. It was almost upon them and the shocks on the wall reverberated through the ceiling, breaking loose several pieces of rock. But Loki held the door. He would not allow it to be widened enough for the balrog to pass through. He held the wall together. And they all heard the demon roar in his fury.

It broke loose more rocks with its hits and some fell through the stairs, widening the gap, but the rest of the fellowship got over it at last. Only Loki was missing anymore. Gandalf wanted them to run now. He knew that even Loki wouldn't be able to hold off the balrog for much longer. The only reason he was still standing was the shielding wall between himself and the demon and that his spell redirected the demon's strength rather than trying to block it. Which would have failed by now. But this, too, was doomed to fail.

They had to run.

The bridge was so close, but they also couldn't leave a member of their fellowship behind just like that. Yet they also couldn't get to him back over the gap anymore. It was too wide for them by now. So Legolas called out to Loki instead:

“My queen! Come, now! Loki?! Come!”

“I can't. If I break my concentration, he will break through in an instant! I won't be able to hold him off if I run.”

At his words, the others were more agreeable to running without him. But they didn't want to abandon one of theirs, so Legolas told them to get a head start. Then he would be able to convince Loki to come, as he could take the stairs much faster than them. Now more at ease with their conscience, they ran ahead and when they were almost off the stairs, he called to Loki again. And while Loki would have preferred it if Legolas had been further away, too, he knew that this was the best he could get.

So he gave a push to gain a moment from the startled demon, then jumped back, already turning. He grabbed Legolas without landing and dove down beside the stairs at a breakneck speed. Only a moment before hitting the ground did he catch himself with suddenly spread wings and landed; still harshly, but at least without injuring either of them. Despite the thundering beating of their hearts in both their ears, they still heard the wall explode above the stairs. The balrog was through. They sped away in fear and caught up with the rest of the fellowship.

Then they saw the bridge.

When Gandalf stopped in the middle of the bridge, Loki knew.

The balrog could follow them over it, even out of the mine. It could burn Lothlorien if they sought shelter there. Now that it was awoken, it would not rest until they were dead. And it would have the Ring. They couldn't run away from it forever and there was no safety to be found anywhere. But if they lured it out of the dark, the enemy would always see it and surround them, leaving them no option for survival. They had to get rid of the balrog before they left the mine.

And this was the best place. It was narrow, but the were unlikely to be crushed by a collapsing ceiling. There were abysses around them that smelled of water in the depth, offering a benefit if they did fall. And the rest of the fellowship could flee. But they would have to face the demon.

They might just be able to do it together, though. So Loki stayed with Gandalf on the bridge. He had seen his quick exchange with Aragorn, likely giving him the lead, so he himself called to Legolas to get a head start. He didn't have the heart to just tell him to run.

And he certainly didn't intend to sacrifice himself as Gandalf clearly aimed for.

He wanted to help the wizard, but he wouldn't give his life while that of Thranduil's child depended on it, too. He would flee, but he should ensure their safety from the demon before that. And Gandalf had a chance, but this was a demon in its element. The wizard would need all the help he could get. And the others would need all the time they could win. So he gave Gandalf a knowing nod and Gandalf answered with a grim, but grateful nod of his own.

For the first time and unbeknownst to the also the last time ever, Gandalf and Loki would fight together.

But it was not a long fight.

Loki attacked first, combining his cold and his volatile magic to fix the hooved foot of the beast that dared step up to the bridge where it laid on the ground. He wound layers of energy and magical chains and frost around it to hinder the demon and give Gandalf an advantage.

Their opposing rings did not allow for them to combine forces directly, but this should work. Even though he silently wished that Elrond and Gandalf had exchanged their rings. Wind and winter could unite to form terrible snowstorms. Winter and fire just disagreed too much with one another.

But fascinatingly, it seemed that fire could be fought with fire.

When the demon was bound, it was also enraged, but it didn't manage to free itself without giving Gandalf an opening to attack it. So it tried to ignore the binding and drew a sword of flames. Gandalf shouted at it in vain, but he also projected a ball of energy around them to fight off the attack and when the demon's sword crashed down on their shield, it shattered upon it. But the shield did not survive the attack, either.

It burst apart around them just like the sword had and the shockwave hit them, too. Gandalf was so weakened by the loss of his spell that he stumbled back, when suddenly the demon broke through Loki's hold. Under the unexpected shockwave, his focus had faltered and he had gotten no chance to regain it in time. He shot a bolt of energy against the demon's eyes, but he could still feel the last few days in his bones.

He had already fought the Watcher in the Water, he couldn't take on Durin's Bane as well.

So the jolt only irritated the demon, but it didn't manage to injure it. He tried to cast a protective wall of energy between them, but the balrog battered it down before it really stood and stepped upon the bridge. It was too close. So close that the heat got to Loki's head...

The Jotunn tried to think of something, but dark spots appeared in his vision. They danced before his eyes, dazzling him, dizzying him and blocking his sight... and a moment later, burning pain exploded all over his front.

Then there was a moment of weightlessness. And then, suddenly more pain. His back now. But he didn't know why...

He thought he could hear Legolas screaming his name.

There was a new wave of magic.

“You shall not pass!”

A roar.

And then the darkness took over the last of his senses and he lost consciousness.

Chapter Text

The balrog was a terrible sight for Legolas.

It made his heart race in terror, but both of their magicians working together also gave him hope. Right until the moment Gandalf's bubble burst, sending both of them staggering. Loki seemed to have taken it better, even disoriented he was still fighting. But then - Legolas' heart almost stopped at the shock - the demon hit Loki with a swipe of its burning paw and it blazed up on impact, just before Loki was thrown through the air, smoking.

But in the end he couldn't say what had been worse. The beginning or the ending. As that saw Loki crashing into the wall. And it cracked around him, but a living body was not as hard as a wall of solid stone and Legolas' stomach lurched at the crunching sound from within his queen's form, just before the Jotunn dropped to the ground, utterly limp. And in the first moment, he thought Loki dead.

He couldn't move. It was Aragorn who ran to the motionless body and then shouted at him to help.

Legolas dragged himself as if in trance while Gandalf rose once more against the balrog, now knowing for certain that there was no other way anymore. Once at Loki's side, Aragorn had him help carry the body away from the heat that was still affecting it. And he saw, indeed, it was true: Loki lived!

But his front was burnt and his stature far too flexible to be anywhere near healthy. Several bones had to be broken. Going by the impact, even his spine could be cracked. But he was still sweating and that meant both that he still lived and that he would die of heat stroke or dehydration, if they didn't cool him down soon.

They had to get him out. But they couldn't just leave Gandalf, could they?

Then the bridge broke under Gandalf's magic and the balrog fell. They were in delight, for a moment. But with that, Gandalf was pulled down. He shouted for them to flee and fell after the demon. Right to the next shock, he thought. But arrows flew at them now. They couldn't hesitate. Boromir pulled the hobbits out and they carried Loki, hopefully without jarring the jagged pieces of his broken bones against his soft innards too much. But they needed the safety of the daylight.

Outside, the goblins could not follow them anymore. And as soon as they were safe, they laid Loki down to see to his injuries. Legolas gasped at the blackened gashes across Loki's torso. They didn't bleed even, so thoroughly were they scorched. Gods, they looked terrible, going deep into the flesh. He had no idea how to treat such wounds! And they couldn't even see all the fractures. Aragorn, too, was helpless and despairing. None knew how to help their mage. ...A mage! Loki would be able to heal himself with magic!

But looking at this extent, it would have to be a conscious effort. And that meant that Loki had to be conscious for it. But how could they wake somebody in this state? He was feverish and still sweating. He was just too hot, he had to be cooled! They tried to cool him with water and snow from around them, but it had no effect whatsoever. Loki was heated by magic and only magic could cool him down again. But none of them had magic. Least of all the kind to make the temperature drop.

That was Loki's. But now Legolas remembered something, about the wedding rings. His king and queen were highly proud of them and attributed magical qualities to the two. The magicks of winter and spring. And that led him back to Loki's warning about teaching him carnal things. His warning about the ring's ability to fight off any partner to him who was not wearing Thranduil's own ring.

Loki had said that it would send a shock of cold through his skin to bring frostbite upon an attacker. He had said that the ring would do so independent of his own mind. To defend him when he couldn't or didn't want to be defended...

So it was cold magic that could be unleashed without Loki having to be conscious for it. And Loki wouldn't even be hurt. It only attacked whoever touched the queen inappropriately. And, he had asked, a kiss on the mouth was inappropriate enough. He had asked where the line was after Loki had kissed his forehead during a hug. Just to avoid triggering it unintentionally. So, if he kissed Loki on the mouth now, he could cool him down from the dark fire of the balrog, he thought. Though he would be attacked himself...

But frostbite couldn't be as terrible as what Loki was suffering right now. That could kill him! So he kissed his stepmother right on his blue lips. But nothing happened. The ring didn't mind it. Well, it didn't feel very sexual to him either.

So he pried the dormant body's lips apart with his one and poured all his bound desires into it, tasting his father's wife with his tongue, his mind on the images of them that he had brought himself off to, on the exotic beauty he was not supposed to want. He found himself harden...

And now the ring reacted for sure.

The others had been quite confused at the kiss, dare one say disturbed at him taking things further. But now they winced as one, when Legolas jerked back with a strangled scream.

In shock they looked up into his face and found the lower half blackened as if burned. Or dead. And he had trouble breathing. His chest was heaving rapidly and tears streamed from his eyes. Every single breath he took was agony. But then green light covered the frostbite. And with that, Legolas calmed again, as his pain abated and he could use his mouth once more. ...How?

“Thank you.”

He looked down and found Loki awake. The Jotunn's sweat had frozen and so had the ground beneath him. His wounds, too, formerly gaping open, were now covered in ice.

Loki couldn't heal the dreadful burns, but he could at least close the wounds to prevent infection. His back was fortunately not affected by fire, but he knew that there were fractures since his ill-considered attempt to sit up and face Legolas. In the end, it had been better to remain motionless and just send his magic out to heal the frostbite in his stepson's face, tongue, jaw, windpipe and lungs.

But now he had to tend to himself. So he sent his magic along his bone-structure and mentally catalogued all the errors in it. He really had broken various ribs, a shoulder blade and some vertebrae. Healing all would be exhausting, especially in his state. But he had no choice about that. He rightened their angles despite the pain and mended them again. It tired him out almost completely. But he would be able to walk without making it worse. Then, however, he noticed something about his spectators.

“...Gandalf didn't make it out, did he?”

And now that the immediate worry abated, grief took over again. Legolas shook his head and Frodo turned away, guilt-stricken by the look on his face. Aragorn, however, did not have the luxury of being able to mourn his friend. He was their new leader, as chosen by Gandalf. He had to keep control of the situation. And rationally thinking he found them threatened by the near-by gate to Moria. The sun was soon to set and without the light of day to protect them, this place was far too dangerous for them to stay.

So he rallied the fellowship and led them into Lorien.

Loki was still weakened.

But through his concern he was also more alert when he sensed the proximity of passive magic, as found within the bodies of various magical creatures. At this, he reached out and what he felt was the gentle magic of weak, but pure light and preservation. The light of the Eldar and their agelessness, immortality against time. He doubted that the elves had noticed him yet, but he didn't want to waste his remaining magic on a veil of invisibility just for dramatic effect. And they were not enemies. So why bother?

He felt the elves close in, though. Not that he minded. However, when Gimli boasted his perception, he could only just keep the chuckle in. And it had the advantage of irritating the head elf enough to have his unit show themselves. Loki didn't comment on the arrows pointed at him, but he did smirk at the elf threatening his face, looking him right into the eye, so unfazed by his 'sudden' appearance that it made him squirm. That felt good on Loki's ego.

As did, despite coming after the one for Aragorn and Legolas, Haldir's greeting for him:

“Never have I seen a creature such as yourself. I would call you orcish for your threatening complexion, but it would insult your air and well-swung lines. Orcs are not elegant. Nothing else, however, is as close and at the same time foreign to my kind. Unless... 'foreign' is what you are. Rumours have spread since the twins of Lord Elrond came to announce visitors from their father's abode. You must be the foreign Queen of the Woodland Realm.”

Haldir quickly looked to Legolas for confirmation and found it in the prince's gentle nod. After that, he inclined his head to the other-worldly creature in respect and moved on deep in thought. But only until he neared the ring the evil aura of which even he could feel, resulting in the decision to deny them entry. For Norn's sake! But Loki was too tired to argue now. He was content to let Aragorn try and was pleasantly surprised when it seemed to work.

After that he just followed, not really liking the idea of moving up the trees. He preferred caves and solid halls. So he was also not as enamoured as the rest when they met the Sindarin rulers of the forest. They were just elves. Galadriel intrigued him. Being the mother in law to Elrond and a famous matriarch and all. But then he felt her touch his mind, trying to invade without a second thought.

At that point, his curiosity died and drew walls of ice around his mind. With spikes.

She gave him an interested look, but he did not respond anymore. Boromir almost crumbled under her magic, yet she was unapologetic. Loki decided that he didn't like her one bit. But he might also be biased about that by his own state. He felt faint, still in pain from his burns, slightly feverish again and just plain miserable... He only wanted to sleep it out at this point. Thankfully they were allowed to rest soon enough and given a spot for that, too. He laid down at once, the other's criticism be damned.

But when the hobbits tried to theorise about Sindarin and Legolas didn't bother to tell them, he was too annoyed to sleep and told them himself:

“I didn't catch the first bit, but that is:
O Pilgrim Grey,
no more will you wander the green fields of this earth.
Your journey has ended in darkness.
The bonds cut, the spirit broken,
the Flame of Anor has left this world.
A great light, extinguished.”

He had hoped that they would be appeased with that and quietly go to rest now. But they weren't. They had to add something about the wizard's fireworks.

So Loki pulled the blanket over his head and tried to sleep off his rising nausea. But then he felt the ring flare and was wide awake. Without a word to the others he stood up again and followed the direction of the feeling. This couldn't be good. He hurried despite his state and found Frodo lying in shock before a smoking water mirror that just radiated magic.

Whatever that was.

But then Frodo tried to give the One Ring to Galadriel on the other side of the mirror and she reacted badly. Now he knew who another ring-bearer in the south had been. She connected with the power of water and radiated power during her truly unbecoming monologue. But if she tried to make it real, he realised, he would have to fight her.

He was so glad when it didn't come to that and she calmed down again, her ring, the third ring given to the elves, calming down along with her.

Water would not have hurt him too badly in the case of a fight, it went rather well with frost to form more ice after all. But he wouldn't have wanted a fight with a Sindarin ruler, like his husband, who - relatively speaking - liked Galadriel. And Loki now found some respect for her, too. At her refusal to take the One Ring, even though she had a funny interpretation of that:

“I passed the test. I will diminish. And go into the West. And remain Galadriel.”

Frodo was about to say something to that, but Loki had been waiting and just watching for long enough. He had questions. So he stepped forth and spoke before the hobbit:

“Good. As I doubt your people would have liked me, had I been forced to end your approach.”

She smiled again with that eerie smile of hers:

“Queen Loki, you seemed irritated earlier.”

“I am not overly fond of strangers trying to poke around in my head.”

“And I do not appreciate strangers approaching my mirror without invitation.”

“Invite me then or let our Ring-bearer leave with me again.”

“You would just go?”

“So I just said.”

“Are you not curious?”

“About what? Your mirror? Not really. I've never been much of a scryer.”

“Then try. Everyone who looks is bound to see in it. Do come, look into my mirror.”

“You just want know what I'll see. If it is something foreign as I am and you could see it, too, or if your mirror is limited to your own world, even when used by one not of it.”

“Would you indulge me then? What could you lose? And what gain?”

Well, he was curious. Of course he was. That he was no good at scrying had always irked him. So he indulged her:

He looked into the water. But it just looked like water. Deeper than the bowl should be. But it was just water. Then he realised that there were great, slow waves going through it. As they would through an ocean. His perspective changed and, indeed, he was looking across a wide ocean, split only by some rocks in the distance. He was drawn into the image and the rocks seemed to come closer. Then he realised that they were gigantic mountains with forests on them, rising from the water as sharp, pointed islands.

In the distance he saw ever more mountains, long ridges going through the ocean and solitary peaks emerging from the waving surface. Some had snow-tops, others smoked like volcanos. He had never seen a place like that. But then he saw people. Greyish-brownish in skin and stocky despite their height, for they rivalled the trees. And they built mighty castles into the mountains. Or were those just houses to them?

His view kept moving and he saw more of them, then he looked to a higher mountain with a snowy top. And there were Jotunns. Wait, no. Blue-skinned and preferring the cold, they were Hrimthurs. But all the people had been Jotunn. He willed the volcanos closer and saw even more giants, these with yellow eyes and glowing red skin. Fire Giants.

...This was a world of giants. All kinds of them. Suddenly the sky darkened and a massive mist devoured the lands. When it had passed, the volcanos were extinguished and the ocean was a plain of ice, while snow covered all mountains from the tops to the roots. Only then he really recognised Jotunheim. A world of ice, where it used to be a world of stone and water. The Fire Giants fled or perished and the Frost Giants cheered, their blood red eyes alight with satisfaction.

Suddenly the image changed again: Red eyes, but no satisfaction. Hatred. Only hatred and determination were in them. No, it. Only one eye was truly red, the other was far paler and shining with a mesmerising light. He took a step back, mentally, and looked upon a creature as familiar as it was foreign. The hair and build, what he could see of the armour and swords, that looked like ...Thranduil. But it couldn't be. This creature was as two-faced as his daughter. One side was white as bone, the other blackish blue.

But that was not all that was strange about this face. The blue side was spiked with sharp, little icicles and even produced a horn of ice from one temple. Or rather an antler. And the other side... The pale side was spiked with sharp, little thorns like a rose's. And that side's temple bore a sharp-pronged antler of wood. It seemed like Thranduil's theme and it was his equipment... But it was covered in frost that an elf would not have been able to bear. One sword was giving off mist from how cold it was.

Yet the other sword glowed in yellowish-green tinted magic. It was used to conduct magic, used as a wand. All that together was far too much for an elf. Except if he was powered by an artefact. But even the elves with a power ring were not this impressive. And this was impressive for Loki. This was a magical warrior. And he was riding a magical war-horse. One with eight legs. And those and its chest were drenched in black blood. Then Sleipnir jumped into battle anew and trampled rows upon rows of orcs, while his rider slashed them left and right, stopping only to shoot beams of light into the sky.

'My son?' he thought. Only Odin ever rode him, no one more but himself allowed and he would turn into a mare to run beside him rather than to ride his son... But thinking of his son, his vision changed again. To another son.

There were coils in the water. But these did not move leisurely. There was anger, pain, hatred and determination in them. And an abundance of raw strength. A creature the size of a world. And it was a world that this one curled around, gripping the mass and constricting. Thunder bashed up the sea around its body and lighting bolts went into the water, but the serpent did not even twitch. Then he saw Thor shoot down from the sky to hit the serpent with Mjolnir.

It hit and he thought he heard a rib crack. But the huge serpent had hundreds of them all throughout its world-encircling body. One more or less didn't matter much to him. Thor was clearly in despair and shouted across the storm:

“Loki! Call it back! Loki!!! Make it stop! It's over! Please!!!! End it! He is dead, now make it end!!!”

He must have responded somehow. Or the time had changed again. But Thor's mood had turned.

“You can't mean that, Loki, just end it already! I cannot let this happen! End it, brother, or I will!”

The scene was unclear, something might have been said, but then he saw as clear as the day how Thor jumped at his son's head. He shouted in warning and Jormungandr wound his long face around. He gushed a cloud of dark breath that enveloped Thor entirely. But it could not halt him. Lighting went through the Thunderer and he crashed into the serpent's skull. Loki screamed. He screamed and suddenly there only his own face anymore.

What?

Only his reflection. What just happened? His reflection... in a mirror of ice. He pulled back and found himself at Galadriel's mirror, which was frozen over. He must have done that subconsciously. In his distress. Because he had just seen his brother murder his son. If he had felt ill before, it was nothing compared to now. But he was not alone. He retracted the ice and failed to avoid Galadriel's gaze.

“You are terrified by what you saw.”

It was just a statement, but he nodded anyway. And then a slighter voice reached him. That of Frodo:

“You saw it, too? ...The eye?”

“No, little hobbit. I saw a something worse. You are new to world indeed, if you still think that the spirit of a corrupted stranger is the most terrible of enemies.”

He swallowed bile as Frodo frowned and turned back to Galardiel:

“I don't feel well, but maybe you should teach him a thing or two that his previous guardians failed to with their sheltering, ring-bearer.”

With that he turned and left. The she-elf could warn him of the enemy within. Within his group of supporters and himself. Bearing the Ring of Water, she would know. But he really didn't feel up to that. He had meant to return to the others, but he didn't make it all the way. Before the end, he had to stop. He was sick to his stomach. And he kept heaving until long after there was nothing left to throw up anymore anyway. He shivered and remained where he was until suddenly Legolas rushed to him, having just spotted him.

“Loki? Loki! Is everything alright?!”

“No. No, Legolas, it really isn't. I am a parent in a dangerous universe. There will never be 'everything alright'. ...I am scared.”

“Loki, what happened?”

“I looked into the mirror. Galadriel's mirror. I saw... I saw across time.”

“The future or the past? What troubles you so?”

“The future, of course. The past can grieve me, but not scare me, child. I've seen the future. And it is terrible.”

“But the future is not fixed. What you saw might happen, but it might also not happen.”

“You think I 'saw what will happen if we fail'?”

“...Maybe?”

“I may despise fortune-telling, but I do believe in self-fulfilling prophecies. I am the living proof. They said I'd turn against Asgard upon my birth and hated me so much for it that I began to hate them too and turned against Asgard. Knowing the future cannot prevent it.”

“...Did you see our future, too?”

“I think. I might. It was strange. Confusing. But I saw many orcs die...”

“Then maybe your past grieves you so that it sours your vision of the future. There can be good as well.”

“Thank you for trying. But I hear only grief and worry in your voice.”

“...But that won't make me stop and give in.”

“I said that I'm scared and that pain is coming for me, not that I would let it take me without a fight.”

Chapter Text

Loki still distrusted the telepath and he had magic that could make him completely invisible.

Yet still, just for moments of weakness, he accepted the cloak. Even though he found it entirely unfashionable and unworthy of his rank. But he could feel low-level magic in it. When they said that it would protect its wearer from unfriendly eyes, they meant that. However, when Galadriel passed out individual gifts, he asked for one thing only:

“Give me leave and I shall be delighted to take it.”

Everyone looked at him a bit funny after that. Especially Gimli of all people. But his keen hearing distinctly picked up on Legolas whispering something in Aragorn's ear, making him grin so wide it seemed almost unnatural and it made him look many years younger. Loki hadn't understood the two syllables, but he could guess their nature, so he glowered at Legolas. Though it lacked conviction. He knew that Legolas respected him, so even a joke at his expense could not be meant for ill.

After all, even the exact same words could mean entirely different things, depending on the circumstances. Whenever Sif had called him a slut, she had insulted him as worthless and dirty. Whenever Thranduil called him a slut, it generally just meant 'O sweetheart, you are making me so horny with your insatiability.' And in that sense, he also didn't get mad at Legolas for calling him whatever.

Legolas himself, though, was worried afterwards and confessed to calling his gesture against Galadriel a 'bitch fight'.

He was amused and forgave the boy with ease. It was only true, after all. His animosity was largely based on having to submit to another matriarch's superiority due to them being in her sovereign territory. And he hated submitting. Especially to another woman. He suspected that that had become more intense of late due to his Jotunn instincts and hormones at work. Her lover – husband, actually, but for a Jotunn he would have been the first of several lovers – Cele-something – Celeborn, but Loki didn't care to remember it – was instantly dismissed by the Jotunn. But Galadriel had irked his queenly pride.

And then there was the attempted invasion of his mind. An aggressive act of dominance he would never tolerate being committed against his person and family.

All in all, he was just glad to finally have her out of his hair. Even if that meant rowing. He'd rather fly. But that would draw too much unwanted attention to them. He'd also rather swim, but he still didn't feel much better and he had no interest in drowning. So he just sat in his boat and let it happen, while the others forced themselves to leave the comfort and safety that Lothlorien had meant for them.

Frodo even looked back to see Galadriel wave them goodbye. She smiled. On the outside.

On the inside she was deeply concerned for the company and she desperately hoped that Frodo would have an opportunity to leave them soon. Before the Ring corrupted them all.

Boromir was already falling and Loki had even worn it before. That stranger from another world. An intelligent stranger from an unknown origin. But a terrible one for sure. Yes, she had hoped to catch a glimpse of his home in the mirror. But she had gotten so much more than that.

The first images had intrigued her. But the transformation of an entire world into a frozen wasteland had terrified her. And what had terrified her more was that Loki had not been scared by it at all. He had answered the images with only recognition in his eyes. No concern. No discomfort. Even as a world had frozen beneath him. But it wouldn't. Not when he could freeze the mirror.

The remotely elven creature that next had ridden into the image on such a peculiar horse had given her almost hope then. Maybe creatures of Loki's world could help them in the war against Sauron?

But the last vision had taken that hope again. Especially when combined with Loki's reaction to the sight. He had seemed truly devastated at the slaying of a monster clearly intent on destruction. Its slayer had rekindled that hope a bit. A magical warrior. If he fought for Middle-Earth, they might have a chance yet.

Just Loki was evidently on the side of the monsters. And that scared her. So much so that she returned to her mirror. She couldn't command it to show her what she wanted to know more about, that being Loki's background, but she could wish to see Loki. And what she saw took her breath away.

For she looked directly into the huge blood-red eyes of a dragon. Sly was written all over its face and sharp white teeth contrasted dramatically with the night-sky black of its scales and horns. And those eyes narrowed as they scanned what was in front of them. The dire nostrils flared and finally the dragon roared, casting everything else into silence. Only when it was surrounded by nothing but quiet reverence did the dragon sit back with a smug grin that still showed plenty enough teeth to be threatening. Then it looked at another, specific point rather than just around itself anymore and announced almost solemnly:

“Now we welcome the Allmother, Queen of the Elves of Ennor and Empress of Yggdrasil!”

The roars and screams were deafening, as Loki walked up to the black dragon. And then it bent down its head and all followed its gesture, bowing to one single person. But all were not dragons. They were people, blue-skinned, but bipedal. Like Loki. And they were gathered in a palace of rock and ice.

In the same world that Loki had seen earlier? She did not know. But under her thoughts her vision changed. The last she saw of it was the welcomed person revealing themselves as Loki and pet the dragon's snout, a rip in her vision and Loki's voice call “I crown thee, Myrkdyr Smaugson and Lokidottir, the Monarch o-”

Then the sight was completely different. She saw huge towers of metal and glass, overshadowed by constructions of more metal that flew, gathering like an airborne fleet. And she saw a humanoid encased completely in metal speeding through the air to fight Loki's like with the blue skin, a green troll and another human without weaponry beside a shield right behind him.

She tried to see more, but ice consumed the sight. She saw no more of other worlds and her dread grew. Loki was a commander of monsters that could rival those of Sauron. 'But would they fight for us?', she wondered, 'Or against us?' She hoped in either case that these terrors would not come true. Just like her visions of Middle-Earth that Frodo had shared. This, however, felt different. This felt as though the mirror was given sight by someone else.

The Norns knew to warn their pawns, so they would not be too shocked to act when their time for action came.

He wasn't getting any better.

Although he was glad to be off the boat, Loki only felt worse. And he had to admit how bad it really was when Legolas surprised him with hand on his shoulder. He almost jumped at the sudden touch. And that could have been an enemy. His perception was clearly impaired. And it scared him and Legolas both.

“My queen? Is everything alright? ...An unfortunate choice of words. You are clearly still sick. Is it getting better at least?”

“Not really... But I'm dealing with it. What did you want from me?”

“Aragorn and I were just discussing the possibility of orcs around. There are most certainly some on the other side of the river. Yet I am gravely concerned that there might be more on this side, too. ...Aren't you?”

“Not particularly.”

“Loki, you are normally much more perceptive than anyone else. You just feel other creatures. Even the Galadhrim did not surprise you! What is wrong, honestly? Are your wounds even healing?”

“They are, little leaf. Not as fast as most, but they are burns, so I would be surprised to see them heal faster than they already do. Just don't be concerned. They heal. In time, they will be gone completely.”

“...Then why aren't you feeling better?”

“I'm afraid I have no answer for that.”

“Maybe... it is something we don't see on the outside?”

“I said I don't know.”

“But couldn't you check that?”

“Sending my magic along by skeleton and just generally through my entire body are two very different things, Legolas. My bones are solid and extremely limited in their movement. To trace them is comparatively easy. But all my organs, tissues and vessels? That's a whole nother level of complicated, little elf.”

“Don't call me little. And why would it be so much more complicated?”

“Because, unlike bones, they bend! They reshape easily and, to an extent, even move through my body. Especially now that my bloated womb will have pushed a fair share of them out of its way. I don't even know how they should be aligned now. Where and formed in which way... So how do you think am I supposed to check if they really are as they should be?”

“...I'm not a mage. I don't know? ...Is there really no way?”

“There is a way, of course. But it's utterly unrealistic.”

“...Sorry? You could do it, even though you just said you couldn't, but it's 'unrealistic'? What is that even supposed to mean?”

“I never said that I couldn't do it. It's just complicated. So challenging, in fact, that I would have to turn my entire consciousness inwards.”

“Okay.”

“Oh Legolas, you clueless little boy.”

“What? I'm not a mage!”

“That would make my body utterly unresponsive. And not just for a moment, either. Depending on how small and thus hard to find the damage is, I might be gone for a few hours or even days! And you wouldn't be able to wake me, either. I would basically be comatose. That would be far too dangerous. I'll rather just let my subconscious handle it.”

“But... It's dangerous here, yes, but we could have done that in Lothlorien!”

“No, we couldn't.”

“It would have been safe!”

“For you! Not for me. That forest was infested with magic. The magic of light. For you elves, that's great. It keeps the monsters out. But I had to shield myself from it. I'm a creature of darkness, Legolas. It would have damaged me. For Norns' sake, Dol Guldur let me in! And Galadriel... She tried to get into my head even while I was conscious. If I were to focus on my entire consciousness on my anatomy in all its possible variations that are still healthy and those that wouldn't be... I'd have served my mind to her on a silver platter.”

“...But she is not our enemy.”

“She isn't yours. But I'm not like you. I can make myself look like it, but I will never be an elf. And she knows that. I am certain that she does. My kind, Legolas, Jotnar are closer to demons than to elves. I almost destroyed an entire world one time. I mean you saw what happened in Rivendell! If you were Galadriel, would you really treat me like a fellow elf?”

“No, maybe not.”

“Then you must understand why I couldn't let my guard down in her forest. Because I know what she would do. I'd do the same if our places were reversed. Or, well, I might do worse than that. Can you let my subconscious handle this one?”

“Okay... But if it gets worse?”

“Let's just cross that bridge when we come to it.”

Legolas was not exactly calmed by that, but he knew better than to nag Loki about it. The Jotunn wouldn't listen to him anyway. And then they had more urgent matters to attend, all broken loose by one simple question:

“Where is Frodo?”

That Boromir was also missing didn't calm them at all. Adrenalin pushed even Loki's nausea aside and they separated to cover more ground and find them. Before anyone else did.

The clanging of metal on metal... a sword fight.

He ran for it as fast as his legs would carry him and in the corner of his eye he saw Gimli run along. That was good, but he knew nothing of the others. They could be in danger, even wounded already. He just ran. And there he saw creatures like orcs, but taller and clearly indifferent to the sun glaring down at them. He had been right to worry about their side of the river. But that didn't matter now. Now they had enemies. He shot one after the other.

The ruin could offer him a vantage point. Their enemies were clearly superior to them in numbers, so the narrow path would limit their ability to surround them with their mass and he could shoot from above, seeing more and gaining time to bring all down before they reached him.

He fought best at a distance, after all, while the creatures' weapons were only good or stabbing and hitting things in their arm's reach. He tried to utilise his advantage, but there were shockingly many and he also had to look out for his companions. Aragorn and Gimli were close-by, at least.

But he had no idea where Loki was.

Until there was a grunt right behind himself. He whirled around, an arrow ready to stab. But the orc was already staring blankly. Several spikes emerged from its chest, all blackened from its blood, but white underneath. At first he was too startled to guess what they could be. But a moment later the orc was lifted from the ground and tossed back like a doll, revealing a huge black stag behind its body. A black stag with white antlers and emerald eyes.

He almost laughed in recognition. Just like the first time they met!

But then the stag started and he jumped to the side. Loki mowed the oncoming orcs with twelve prongs mounted on his head and the support of a bull's neck and four strong legs behind it. He was relentless and he swept through the difficult terrain like he owned it. Well, he was a stag in a forest. This was just his kind of terrain. Or rather: He had taken exactly the shape that would handle these grounds best. The benefits of being a shapeshifter.

And even when someone got behind him, which was not easy with a target of his unerring speed, their bones broke from a single kick of his hooved legs. Unless he decided to make a quick turn and pierce or crush them with his antlers.

Legolas was delighted to see Loki well and fighting at their side. But then there was a bugle sound. And he knew that one.

“The horn of Gondor.”

“Boromir.”

Aragorn instantly ran to support his fellow human, so he called to Loki and at the mage's stop, he jumped on the stag's back. Loki huffed, but sped by Aragorn and freed his way while Legolas shot any orc he saw from his new vantage point atop the stag that would defend him from any enemy that might have gotten close outside of his focus.

They were a good team like that. And they watched Aragorn's back and chased stray orcs, killing all the foul beasts that they could. It was almost joyful. But only almost.

There was no joy to be found, when they found Boromir on the verge of death, beyond help. He thought to ask Loki if there was anything he could do. If he could heal the man, even though the injuries seemed too severe. But when Loki turned back into his usual shape, he looked much worse than he had before.

The Jotunn said that he just needed to cach his breath and refocus his magic inwards. But nothing looked good right then. They had no hobbits with them, Loki was increasingly ill and Boromir just died.

When they saw the boat on the other side, Legolas instantly made to go after the hobbits. But Aragorn held him back. Loki listened to their talk with one ear, but he had other things on his mind. When they were motivated to chase after the strange orcs that had taken Merry and Pippin, he did not move a muscle. And he saw the moment when that was noticed. Even before Legolas, after uneasy glances to Aragorn and Gimli, asked him:

“Aren't you coming with us?”

“No, I think not. I think there used to be ten. Now two are dead, two are captive to the enemy and two have gone off on their own. Even though they barely know the way. The fellowship is broken. But we might save its purpose. I think that, while you can go after the other hobbits, I should follow Frodo.”

Of course, that called Aragorn to intervene:

“I think we should all stay away from the Ring. You especially.”

He had a hand on his sword in warning. But Loki was not threatened.

“Don't even try, human. I could kill you with a whispered word. But I choose not to. Perhaps I should stay away from the Ring. You might be right. But we can't abandon them, either, even if they wish it. In fact, we are too few to protect them already. We need our allies now.”

“The Ring corrupts everyone near it and there are spies everywhere. We can't seek help.”

“We need help. Maybe not a nation. But Thranduil at least. He is a ring-bearer in his own right now, all his family already knows and he has magic, too. He even already suspected this after Gandalf left Gollum in our cells. We must tell him; I could even regain my strength in his halls and we would all be better for it.”

“Merry and Pippin don't have the time for us to take such a detour an-”

“Then I go alone!”

“You are weak. If you are captured in that state, the enemy will force all you know about us, about Frodo, from you and we will lose our only advantage.”

“He can try, but I've been tortured before. He won't break me.”

“He might not have to. Not with how fond you were of the Ring in Rivendell. And I am sorry, but we cannot let you go!”

With that he drew his sword and Gimli, hesitatingly, his axe for support. Legolas was the most torn, but in the end, he begged Loki to leave it, saying that he trusted his father, too, but they couldn't afford it. And Loki whispered “Sorry, little leaf” before he vanished. They were stunned and had no target, but then there was a splash. Loki had disappeared from invisibility into the river. He had to fight his sickness down just one last time.

And then, a dragon erected its head from the water and lifted itself out of the waves. Legolas shot at his shoulder to force him down and to stay him, but the arrow was repelled by the blue scales.

“I am truly sorry that it had to come to this, Legolas. But you can't follow me. Hurry to Isengard. The magic that sticks to those creatures' bodies like an afterbirth reminds of that which brought us the storm on the Caradhras. The same wizard made both. And once they get to Orthanc, they will hope for death, I can assure you. Get to them before that. Save them. Run. But I will see your father.”

And with that, Loki heaved himself higher, ever higher and flew for Mirkwood. He felt so terrible. Maybe he shouldn't have turned into his biggest shape, but it seemed the quickest at such a distance and the only way to avoid a fight he did not feel ready to win.

He just needed Thranduil now. His husband was the only one he trusted and who knew anything of his magic around. The only one who could help him now. His burns were almost gone indeed, but he still felt feverish. He needed his spring now.

Drifting between trance and awareness, he just thought:

'My love, I miss you so. And if I don't see you before I sleep, I'll never wake for you again.”