“You are considering how insupportable it would be to pass many evenings in this manner—in such society; and indeed I am quite of your opinion. I was never more annoyed! The insipidity, and yet the noise—the nothingness, and yet the self-importance of all those people! What would I give to hear your strictures on them!”

“Your conjecture is totally wrong, I assure you. My mind was more agreeably engaged. I have been meditating on the very great pleasure which a pair of fine eyes in the face of a pretty woman can bestow.”

Miss Bingley immediately fixed her eyes on his face, and desired he would tell her what lady had the credit of inspiring such reflections. Mr. Darcy replied with great intrepidity:

“Miss Elizabeth Bennet.”

The pieces now all back in their starting positions, Dwalin gives him the first move, and Fíli opens the game with an aggressive strategy – probably too aggressive, if the ever-so-slightly quirked brow on Dwalin’s otherwise stoic face is anything to go by. “Has Nori turned up anything of note about Mister Baggins?” he asks, and Dwalin looks up from the board as he moves one of his pieces to a deceptively defensive position to pin Fíli with a blank, stonewalling look. “Before now, I mean?”

“Not that he’s mentioned,” the Kingsguard responds.

“I assume he’s looked into him at least a little,” Fíli goes on, “since he is, er, Tauriel’s friend, after all.”

Dwalin hums, apparently more interested in contemplating his next move than in answering Fíli’s questions. “His mother’s friend, actually,” he says after a moment.

Fíli blinks across at him. “Pardon?”

“The lass was originally friends with Baggins’ mother. Invited her back to the Shire some ten years back, practically adopted her. She and the Baggins lad have been thick as thieves ever since, or so the locals apparently say.”

“Oh.” Fíli frowns down at the board and takes his turn. “That’s… That’s very interesting.”

Dwalin harrumphs. “That’s one word for it.”

Consider the intersection of the myth idea that it's *eye contact* with Medusa that turns one into stone, the difficulty many neurodivergent people have making eye contact especially with strangers, and how such neurodivergence might contribute to a person being considered 'odd'. ExplicitlyND!Belle and HighFemmeMedusa!Beast gay BatB, hell yeah.

GIF by aaaaaaaas-things-deactivated201

‘The elf in the room’ is the literal translation of a Dwarven phrase that refers to an issue of which all present are acutely aware, yet that no one wishes to directly address or even acknowledge, usually because it comes with a certain element of awkwardness or impropriety that may be exacerbated through the discussion of such. Common usage is, notably, entirely metaphorical, and does not refer to a literal elf surrounded by dwarves in a small, enclosed space.

-Excerpt from Dwarven Idioms, Volume Twelve of A Survey of Dwarven Culture, from the library of Elrond Half-Elven, Lord of Rivendell

Tragedy! Disaster! Calamity! Oh, the pain which twists the heart of a lover, when their One is injured!

-Excerpt from The Official Account of the Quest for the Soulmate of Prince Kíli of Erebor, Son of Dís, Daughter of Thráin, as recorded by the King’s Scribe Ori, son of Vuori