Pretty Sure I Was Just Overheard Speaking Massively Out Of Turn. Not That I Would Refrain From Saying

Pretty sure I was just overheard speaking massively out of turn. Not that I would refrain from saying it to his face. My life would simply be easier if I didn’t have to.

Fog blanketed fields this morning.

Sketch dumping with my hobbit oc 😁

A question for all the male attracted beings out there— Why do you enjoy it so much when men roll up their sleeves?

The unmistakable stench of blood hung in the air. A scent all too familiar to someone who had survived far too many tragedies for one lifetime. A sticky, salty sweetness that clung to the breeze and set every one of his senses on edge. Silent as a spectre, he moved through the trees, eager to set his own sights on the anomaly the locals had described to him. Surely they had been mistaken in their verbal depiction. The creature of which they described sounded like something out of an ancient tale deriving from ages past. A great hulking, warm-blooded beast with fur as black as night, possessing sharp claws and shimmering eyes. It was likely a bear. Some were still foolish enough to wander into the dark, infested woods in search of food. Winter was fast approaching, and the great scavengers were getting desperate to eat their fill. The insectoids would not think twice about taking down a creature as large as a bear, but not for the sake of consumption. An animal that large was too big to carry up to their webs, and over the years they had learned not to spend too much time on the ground.

As the smell became stronger, he was immediately able to pick out two distinct aromas. One he knew well. The fragarence of the spiders had a sickly, venamous stench, but the others he could not so easily identify. As he crept closer, his keen eyes picked up on something large and dark in the exact clearing the small band of Southland hunters had described to him. He drew his blade and kneeled down low to the ground, inching closer and closer until he could gain a clear view.

The beast definitely wasn't a bear. It looked more like the great cats that roamed the North. Giant, daggertoothed felines. He had never heard tales of a black one. Though he had heard some say that they could be white. The sizable felines could not be tamed, but rumours spoke of those who had learned a way to gain their trust. What one was doing so far south, he would probably never figure out. Like all ancient beasts, even the ones in the North had been hunted to near extinction. For glory, mostly. Fur—sometimes. For the liver that was said to cure those lacking the ability to walk—on occasion. Perhaps it had been forced from its hunting grounds? The last of its kind. Wandering in an aimless search for others, or perhaps simply peace. Maybe that was why he felt responsible for it. It had entered the woods seeking the protection and coverage of the trees, completely ignorant of the terrible things that had recently moved in to call it home.

Using extreme caution, he crept even closer, his footsteps soundless despite the fact that fall was upon them and the forest floor was littered with fallen leaves. The beast was injured, and injured animals were unpredictable. Even the docile grazers that roamed the flatlands in great sprawling herds were known to have a violent streak when faced with death. Though it soon became apparent that the great animal was unconscious. He was nearly close enough to touch it now, and still it hadn't stirred. He could see the softt must have been the spiders' poison that had left it in the predicament it now faced. rise and fall of its chest as it continued to breathe. The wounds it bore looked superficial. It must have been the spiders' poison that had left it in the predicament it now faced.

Thranduil was no healer, though he had picked up a few tricks of the trade along the way. Tangible methods were usually best. Especially when dealing with venom. No skill required. Only knowledge. The small amount of antiserum that rested forgotten at the bottom of his pack would likely be wasted on the creature. There was a great possibility that the beast would attack him the instant it rose from its poison-induced slumber. But it wasn't as though he would ever need it. The air of humans was all over the great cat. A sorcerer's familiar, perhaps? Or maybe even a sorcerer himself? Either way, he wasn't going to allow the thing to die a slow and painful death, only to have its body parts scavenged by humans who had been too cowardly even to simply end its suffering. Was he being driven by curiosity or a pathetic sense of pity that always seemed to strike him at the worst possible moments?

Laying his blade down on the ground beside him, he moved just close enough to place a hand on the creature. He could feel its heartbeat slow and staggering. It did not move. The poison currently coursing through its veins was fast acting. It had not been laying there for long. Delicately, he reached into the bag slung across his shoulders, digging around until he could feel his fingers curl around the tiny glass phial settled at the very bottom. He used his teeth to uncork it and proceeded to spill whatever was left inside into the open flesh wound. Giving the animal a delicate pat on one of its muscled shoulders, he spoke mostly to himself.

"And they say it was curiosity that killed the cat.".

Drawing back his hand and tossing away the now empty bottle, he reretrieved his blade and sat back against the trunk of a centuries-old giant oak. Only time would tell if his efforts had been successful. Laying the sword across his lap, he settled in for the long haul. Watching and waiting, with one hand poised ready on the hilt of his sword, just in case things decided to take a turn for the worst.

homegirl luthien & the Best Boy

reminder that my ko-fi is up, if u feel inclined to visit it! :)