This my collections of One-Shots from my Tolkien favorite book, The Silmarillion.
These stories are almost with a Disability!Reader, like Blind!Reader, paraplegic!reader, amputee!reader, depressed!reader, etc.
Requests are open, so feel free to PM m...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Humming softly to a song your mother used to sing to you as a child, you bend down and begin picking up wildflowers and herbs, putting them in a basket. The sun was high in the sky, shining brightly with all his glory.
You wore a long dark green cloak and two long gloves, that cover your sensitive skin and eyes from the sun and prying eyes. You were born albino, snow white skin and hair with two large violet eyes. Your mother and father used to tell you that you are a rare beauty, a white diamond. The people of your village didn't see that same way as your parents. Every time that you got out of your house and go to the market, you could feel they envious and disapproval eyes on your small figure.
When your parents die from a rare disease, you took care of your father's business which is a small pharmacy. Your father had taught you everything he had known, making you do small pots of remedies since you were little.
With you taking care of his business, you move out of your village and build it a small hut in the forest. People would go there and buy your remedies and herbal teas, passing their word to other people.
As years pass through, people begin calling you the white witch. Saying that your potions and teas made wonders to the sick people. You didn't mind that they call you that since it gave something to intimidate people.
Sighing tiredly, you grab your basket, now full of flowers and herbs, and begin walking towards your small house. A small smile forms on your lips while you see a deer couple walking in the distance with a tiny deer follow them happily. That was your dream since a child, having a big family to love. Sometimes, your tiny hut can be pretty lonely. Only hearing the sounds of the wolfs howls at night and rustle of the animals walking beside your home, sniffing your garden of herbs.
Suddenly your thoughts were interrupted by the sound of heavy hooves hitting on the ground. A horse? Weird...normally your clients travel on foot.
Pulling your cloak tightly, hiding your pale face from the stranger. The sound becomes closer and you could see the large figure of the beautiful black stallion with a tall cloaked rider mounting him. The man stops the horse and climbs down gracefully, giving long steps towards you. You noticed long red hair coming from the opening of his cloak around the neck.
"Are you the white witch?" the stranger's voice was deep and rough, making goosebumps in all your white skin.
"I am! And who is asking?" you said with a firm voice, not letting his large figure intimidate you.
The stranger left arm lifts it and grab his hood, pulling it back. The first thing you notice was his beautiful curly long red hair, seeming almost like flames as the sunlight touch it. His features were sharp and rough, with some battle scars. His eyes were grey as the sky in a storm day, full of fury and determination. Around his strong neck, you see a delicate brooch. It was shaped like a start, all bathed in gold.
"I'm King of Himring!... I wish to buy some of your teas." Your eyes bulge when he said King of Himring. You knew that kingdom. It was there that the heir of the High King Fëanor rule, along with his younger brother. You have heard stories of him. People say that he was a proud ruler and of all the eight brothers, he was the most responsible and listener. You have heard his name one day in the market. Maedhros.
