#They are more than willing to kill for Elrond

[braxix]

Elrond: *runs past crying*

Celeborn:

Galadriel:

Celeborn: So are you going to handle that or am I?

Galadriel: *grabbing a sword* I'm already on it.

#They are more than willing to kill for Elrond #Celebrimbor would have gone all vengeful kinslayer on the perpetrator so it's left to them to fo what he would do in his unfortunate absenc #lotr #lord of the rings #incorrect lord of the rings quotes #silmarillion #incorrect silmarillion quotes #incorrect quotes #elrond #lotr elrond #elrond peredhel #galadriel #lotr galadriel #celeborn #lotr celeborn

[searchingforserendipity25]

Brainstorming on the Maglor = Lindir concept for @funwithfanon and here’s a list of different takes, in no particular order:

Lindir does not exist. It’s more of a temporary, honorary rank, a job description - anyone can be the Lindir of Rivendell if their application is accepted. Duties include diplomacy, welcoming guests, playing the harp, singing beautifully, babysitting and being able to remember all the Dúnedain’s names. The usual contract goes for fifteen summers, which is much less than the regular yéni. Whatever you do, do not ask why Lord Elrond is very particular about having an open call for minstrels going on regularly. The Lindor of the book events is just some guy who is here for the steady pay to save up for a fancy dowry to take on his Ship to Valinor. It’s not that he has a sweetheart or anything, but he fully intends to nab himself a hot, rich, and influential Calaquendi once he gets to the West, and Elrond’s court is a good place to practice. I, for one, respect Lindir’s hustle. 

The same, but the current Lindir is Maglor. This is never discussed. If you recognize him, no you don’t. He shows up for the fifteen years, and then goes away, and then comes back. It’s fine. They don’t talk about it. It’s definitely fine! The job interviews have gone from dramatic to downright farcical. Neither of them is willing to be the first one to crack. The first time, Elrond gets to ask for a portfolio and watch Maglor draw a blank on anything that isn't a lament. By the fourth time, he has a long repertoire of new works inspired by Imladris ready, all dedicated to its gracious and most generous lord. They come up with ridiculously complicated linguistic crossword games and then swap them to play over morning tea. Again, I cannot overstate how much they do not Talk About It. 

Lindir is of the Falathrim of Sirion and he will fight you if you ask whether he’s secretly Maglor Fëanorian. He will hit you with his gigantic gold-and-ivory harp and you will deserve it.

Lindir is Maglor. Ish. Maglor-ghost. Maglor's remaint. If you look at him too hard the edges of him start to blur, like an old crosshatching drawing left to blur in the sun for too long. The shadow he casts upon the wall rests over his shoulders like a cloak. He is also rather misty. Somewhere by the sea, a body has been eaten by the fish, but the fëa wandered far inland and found refuge in the valley where all those in pain are made welcome. One day Elrond woke to a faint song. He followed it through the stairs of his house until he found - the smouldering embers in Hall of Fire stirring, and a darker darkness singing. Lindir has been part of the household ever since.

Lindir is Daeron. He loves the line of Lúthien more than all things, except for the Lady Celebrían, who was the one who found him, once, by the still dark waters of the North, and brought him home to the valley where the guards sing nonsense and the air in the twilit starlight smells nothing at all and very much like Melian’s kingdom in the days before the Sun and the Moon.

Maglor did not defend himself, whenever anyone found him wandering by the sea Maglor never defended himself, with words or Song, steel or harp. Not from wolves, or orcs, brigands or avengers, from the wrathful sea or the elements. Varda's Hallowing had scorched him through, a maddening and encompassing pain, the sort of continuous justice that left very little space for anything that was not regret. He could not defend himself from it, or the absolute, star-bright knowledge that its horror and ugliness should not and could not be denied. By the time he came again among the elves, there was very little left to recognize him by. He was so plainly beyond the ability to do harm - getting him in custody was less a matter of containing him than making certain no one went and killed him. It is imprisonment, in the sense that he’s in custody. There will be no Kinslayings or executions in Imladris (Glorfindel's passionate defence of Turgon's precedent aside), and even if it were allowed - no one could put him on trial presently. Elf parole gets invented eventually, after he is in the healing halls for half an Age, and slowly readjusts to society again. Much has his countenance changed, in grief and pain, and from wounds besides; few people recognize him outright. It takes him a long, long time before he touches a harp again, and longer still before he can be certain enough of himself to sing before an audience. 

You would not have caught Maglor Fëanorian admitting he could not identify a poem’s authorial contributions, be he dead or damned or deranged. Luckily, local musical prodigy Lindir, born and bred in Imladris, does not have weird First Age perfectionist hang-ups. Elrond’s students all have a perfectly non-traumatic apprenticeship and are very well-adjusted, thank you very much.

Lindir is a nightingale Arwen accidentally turned into an elf. Listen, it's a thing, it happens with Peredhel sometimes. He’s - adjusting. Focused on playing the harp to develop finger coordination and ended up enjoying it a great deal, after the first challenging yéni (Fingers! Tiny bony bits! What a notion. Lindir misses his beak sometimes). He does still trill sometimes; his old friends answer him during their afternoon songs, it is quite a sight. Mortals are very strange and they have the bad habit of dying fairly often just when he’s started to recognize them, but he likes the way the scruffy one makes his lady smile so he does not chirp in with comments on his poetry. Not many comments, anyway. 

They take his harp away, at first. Glorfindel, who had seen him in battle, wanted anted a geas of silence. But that would be a waste, in its way. His voice is bound to the valley instead, to the protection of it, and the working of its purpose as a place of safety and succour. Eternal servitude to the line of Earendil is not, objectively, the worst punishment that could befall the last Kinslayer. If Elrond is not entirely easy with having him in Imladris, neither is he able to countenance the idea that he might go free, and unaccounted for. The might in him goes away from his mouth, and beyond his mastery. He sings, sometimes, when it is for the benefit of the valley.  That he must be of use is a just demand, and a kinder end than exile. A grace, in its way - and it is not as if he has any reason or right to have any wish in his heart that is not to serve the line of Elwing. It is not, Maglor knows well, the cruellest captivity a soul has ever suffered. He can even speak, if he wishes; and in time, among the long Ages, he does gather enough nerve to ask leave to sing in the Hall of Fire in company, on those moonless nights when he is not needed to sing enchantments of protection. A minstrel can have many duties, after all. There are many ways to serve, in small and deedless fashion, without doing any harm. Pity is not torment, for all it is difficult to withstand, and difficult the making of a gift rich enough to answer it. Well, and he is an excellent minstrel; that much he can offer still, and he does it willingly. They call him Lindir, and that is fair, as well - it is only that Lindir does not and must not and cannot sing laments.

Maglor the Kinslayer is the minstrel Lindir. Everyone knows this. It's not clear whether Lindir, who cries when the cooks behead the hen and hums to the horses and loathes the silver sound of a drawn sword, does know this. 

#maglor #lindir #elrond #funwithfanon #rivendell

[lumi-waxes-poetic]

I don't think I like Hugo Weaving's Elrond much but I don't know how much of it is actually his fault.

These are thoughts that I have been ruminating over ever since The Fellowship of the Ring dropped when I was a kid.

I don't much like Elrond in these movies.

I think too much of him was sacrificed, and not for any real trade off.

While I feel a lot of this was a consequence of Hugo Weaving's casting, I don't feel blame should be laid at his feet because he doesn't control what the writers for his characters do.

Elrond in the films is constantly frosty, stand-offish, and almost distant. He comes across as a controlling man through his interactions with Arwen, and ruled by his (justifiable) fears of what Sauron is already capable of, and could be capable of again should he be reunited with the Ring. And that's a valid fear to be ruled by, but the movie overemphasizes this at the expense of the rest of Elrond's character.

Elrond is aloof and ethereal and otherworldly, yes. He's among the greatest of all elves, EVER, and so of course he comes across as a bit... weird when met by non-Elves. But he is not paranoid, angry, or controlling.

He fears much, yes. But Elrond also embodies courage because his fear doesn't rule him, it motivates him. He doesn't sit around going "oh nothing can possibly work", or disparage Men and Dwarves because in the books, while he's well familiar with the failings of others, he's also seen them at their best, and is fully aware that, given the history of HIS people (and occasionally his own personal history), he has NO room to stand in judgment of others. He's also a man of HOPE.

While not impossible, it's difficult to imagine Weaving!Elrond saying "The world may be grim, but there's always hope. Even in the darkest of days, there may be one bright star to guide you" with a kind face. Or, "Such is of the course of deeds that move the wheels of the world: small hands do them because they must, while the eyes of the great are elsewhere." Or perhaps when in the books he commended Frodo's incredible bravery in choosing to carry the Ring by saying "it is a heavy burden. So heavy that none could lay it on another. I do not lay it on you. But if you take it freely, I will say that your choice is right; and though all the mighty elf-friends of old, Hador, and Hurin, and Turin, and Beren himself were assembled together, your seat should be among them." Elrond was outright comparing Frodo's bravery and courage to the best heroes his people had ever known! Elrond is regal and willful and a force of nature at times, but he's hopeful. He's kind. He's wise, wiser than almost anyone else. Gandalf considers Elrond his equal in such, if not even more so. Hell, Gandalf regards Elrond the way he once regarded Saruman. That means a LOT! Elrond in the books doesn't really waver in his faith in the Fellowship the way he does in the films. He doesn't judge Men by the failures of Isildur, a man who died thousands of years ago. He doesn't stand in Arwen's way as she decides for herself what she wants (not that this featured heavily in the books at all). He's concerned about Man's possibility to fail, but stands by them as much as he can regardless because he does believe in people and besides that, he gave his word that he would stand by them as much as he could. He mistrusts Thorin's company, but for entirely justifiable reasons as their quest may very well fail and get them, an innocent Hobbit, and Gandalf the fucking Grey killed (and he has no reason to suspect Gandalf might just be able to "nuh-uh" death and come back), and even if it succeeds, they might release a DRAGON (one of the scariest fucking bioweapons Morgoth ever devised during the War of Wrath, more terrifying than even a Balrog and certainly with more capacity for mass destruction) on Middle-Earth, which is far from the pretty racist Elrond we get in the Hobbit films. And said dragon DOES get unleashed and it's basically only by fortune and/or slightly possibly fate that it got brought down at all, so really, the dude was 100% in the right. In the movies, he frankly doesn't want to help Thorin's company first and foremost because they're dwarves, and all his other concerns as stated earlier are just a veneer of reasonableness that he uses to justify it, or as "just another reason" why he should frankly not help them and actually probably have them arrested. Elrond Halfelven in the books is good and kind, compassionate and wise, and we barely see these things in the films! And not for lack of time, because Elrond is really no bigger a player in the main books than he is presented as in the films. In fact, the films ADDED material with Elrond the books did not have, so the idea that these aspects of him were "trimmed for time" is patently ridiculous. Many of his best lines and advice to the heroes in the books are instead given to Gandalf and Galadriel, such as:

Elrond raised his eyes and looked at him, and Frodo felt his heart pierced by the sudden keenness of the glance. "If I understand aright all that I have heard," he said, "I think that this task is appointed for you, Frodo; and that if you do not find a way, no one will."

The films consciously and deliberately rewrote Elrond's character to make him less likable. Why? I can't prove anything, but I strongly suspect Elrond became a victim of his actor's casting.

In the 2000s, Hugo Weaving was known for A Type. Most were familiar with him at the time via his incredible turn as Agent Smith in The Matrix, and this colored the roles he was offered for years. Fellowship of the Ring's production came hot on the heels of The Matrix, and it's likely that this affected the writer's view of how Hugo Weaving's character should behave. Elrond was very probably altered to fit that perception better while still being an overall heroic character. Whatever happened, Elrond in the films became a vaguely racist Asshole Hero who is presented as a controlling and pessimistic man who basically only agrees to the Quest so he can get the Ring as far from Imladris as he can conceivably do so Sauron doesn't have ANOTHER excuse to lay siege to the place while Elrond is trying to pack his tribes onto a bunch of boats so they can Peace Out from Middle Earth forever, and also because he's so terrified and desperate that he'll try anything to destroy Sauron at this point and there's no reason to expect more conventional means to work. I'm frankly pissed off because Rings of Power, which I famously detest for being a stale and banal and fundamentally disappointing piece of shit, somehow managed to do a better job with writing Elrond's essential hope and bravery and optimism than Peter Goddamn Jackson.

In Rings of Power, he DOES get to show that more kind and compassionate side to his character, with some VERY Elrond-esque zingers like "Where there is love, it is never truly dark", "We do not say goodbye. We say namárië. It means more than simply "farewell". It means, "Go towards goodness".", and this lovely exchange:

Elrond: "You have fought long enough, Galadriel. Put up your sword." Galadriel: "Without it, what am I to be?" Elrond: "What you have always been. My friend."

I greatly enjoy the memes that have cropped up around Weaving!Elrond since the film's release 22 years ago (AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!), but it saddens me that Elrond's characterization seems to have suffered for having Hugo Weaving, who is a brilliant actor but also one definitely going through an arc of villainous and anti-hero typecasting at the time, play him. There was time enough in the movies to get him right. They made certain of it. Which means every change they made was deliberate, and one of Tolkien's best and most important characters was effectively assassinated for it.

#jrr tolkien #the hobbit #quotes #books #lord of the rings #middle earth #tolkien #tolkien elves #elrond half elven #the lord of the rings #lotr #peter jackson #hugo weaving #the fellowship of the ring #tlotr #john ronald reuel tolkien #rings of power

[dysfunctional-family-fight]

Round One

House of Finwë (The Silmarillion) VS the Preaker/Crellins (Sharp Objects)

House of Finwë art by Jenny Dolfen

House of Finwë

Members: Finwë, Míriel, Indis, Findis, Fëanor, Fingolfin, Finarfin, Lalwen, and many others

Propaganda:

"The whole events of the Silmarillion - including a few wars, a dark lord, the destruction of a continent, etc - revolve around this family's drama" "Well míriel died and finwë remarried to indis, and fëanor hated his half siblings, going so far as to threaten fingolfin with a sword. Then after the fëanorians and fingon and maybe others killed a bunch of people, fëanor abandoned fingolfin so he couldn't follow, and when finarfin turned back his kids didn't and they left him. After that it's all feuds and murders and death and treason and such. Greatest hits of that include maeglin betraying turgon and trying to murder idril and eärendil, plus maedhros and maglor kidnapdopting elrond and elros. Also we don't even know who gil-galad's parents are" More propaganda here

The Preaker/Crellins

Members: Adora Crellin, Alan Crellin, Camille Preaker, Marian Crellin, Amma Crellin

Propaganda:

CW: Munchausen by proxy, murder, self-harm, drugs, strangulation

"Adora has Munchausen by proxy and, before the start of the book, slowly poisons Marian to death while accepting all the praise everyone gives her for being such a devoted caretaker to her “sick” daughter. She also completely ignored Camille during that time because she refused to take “medicine” and caretaking from Adora, which ends up driving her to self harm. Years later, Camille returns to her home town (and her mother) to investigate the disappearances/deaths of 2 preteen girls. She ends up bonding with her 13-year-old sister, Amma, who leads a near double life of sweet, obedient, devoted daughter vs rebellious teen that drinks and does drugs and parties. Adora tells Camille one night that Camille is cold and that’s why she could never love Camille. Alan is heavily implied to know what she’s doing to her daughters, but only turns up his music to ignore what’s going on. Adora is arrested for the dead girls' murders, along with Marian’s. Amma comes to live with Camille and Camille tries to help heal Amma and herself from Adora’s abuse. It goes well until Camille compliments Amma's friend. Amma’s friend is found strangled, the same as the two other girls, and Camille realizes that Amma was the one who had killed the other girls because Adora had been tutoring and paying more attention to them than Amma. Amma was jealous and wasn’t willing to give up Adora’s attention, even though she knew it would kill her." Note: edited for length, full submission here

#polls #house of finwë #preaker/crellins family #the silmarillion #sharp objects #round one

[elvenwhovian]

Thoughts on the criticisms for The Rings of Power

The negativity around ROP has been so disheartening and I need to rant/have my say. Below are the most common criticisms I've seen and my responses to them. 

1. "They butchered/desecrated Tolkien's story! They changed the story too much so I won't watch/ will only hate-watch." 

Some of you are too young to remember, but I was there 3000 20 years ago when PJ's films came out. He changed A LOT. And I was surrounded by homeschooler book purists who had a lot to say, both good and bad. Here's my thing ... if you don't like ROP because they changed things, fine. You do you.  But don't tell me that PJ's films are perfection if you say you can't handle major changes to Tolkien’s works. 

Arwen didn't rescue Frodo. The elves never came to Helms Deep. Faramir didn't take Frodo and Sam captive. And Frodo never sent Sam away before Cirith Ungol, just to name a few. These were SIGNIFICANT changes that PJ made. But they didn't ruin the story ... dare I say, they made things more interesting. 

2. "The story moves too slowly." 

Bro ... have you read LOTR? Its a slow burn at the start. And then half of TTT is just Frodo and Sam simply walking into Mordor. Just like Tolkien, I feel like the show runners are laying a foundation and then in season 2 things will pick up. Also they have 5 seasons planned. Also its television. Its meant to be in installments to keep you coming back. Honestly, compared to some modern TV, it is refreshing to have a show that is taking its time and not beating you over the head with info dumping and action set pieces every single week. We are back in Middle-earth. Enjoy the ride, my dudes. 

3. "The Harfoots are annoying/cheesy/unnecessary." 

I'll admit that I was leery about them including proto-hobbits in the show, but I think they are delightful. They have their flaws, but Hobbits always have. They are quirky; the refreshing contrast to the darkness of war just beyond their borders. Yeah, Nori royally screws up A LOT. Reminds me of another hobbit who Gandalf used to berate for his stupidity. 

I also saw one comment complaining about "Wandering Day" and that the montage/song was too much like a Disney movie. First of all, how dare you? Do you even Tolkien, good sir? His books were full of songs. The hobbits had walking songs in the book. Tolkien loved songs and poetry. It is very VERY in character for Hobbits to have a song with their storyline. And honestly, that song is perfection. I've been singing it as a lullaby to my 6 month old son and he loves it. 

4. "Galadriel is too manly/angry/vengeful ... Also the men are weak." 

Perfect people are not interesting. Flaws make characters realistic, engaging, and worth watching. Galadriel is a flawed character in ROP and I LOVE IT. She is prideful, ambitious, and strong-willed ... all stuff Tolkien wrote about her. She is also very athletic/physically skilled. Tolkien also wrote this ... I have references. And yeah ... if you believed the evil who killed your brother was out there and no one believed you, you would be miffed too. 

And as I predicted, she is undergoing character development that is helping to temper her vengeance. She literally gives up her sword. 

The symbolism is spot on. 

Also, those saying she is too manly... bro, what the heck? Her costumes and armor are so beautiful and well done! My two favorite looks are the dress she wears in Numenor and her armor design.

I think they did a fantastic job making her a strong yet flawed female character. 

And the men are weak? Elrond and Durin have a rock breaking contest. Arondir fights for his girl ... doesn't get more manly than that. Also, Elendil is just fantastically done and oozes that stable yet compassionate masculine energy Tolkien's male characters are known for. 

5."I don’t like that they cast people of color." 

Don't be racist. Its 2022.

6. "The elves aren't done right/have short hair/ aren't like PJ's elves." 

Ok first of all, while many of the elves in the legendarium are described with long hair, its never defined as a standard for elvish culture. Second, if you are going to expect any and all Tolkien adaptations to conform to PJ's films, then I guess we can toss out all the cartoons that are beloved by so many people. Also, I don't see anyone beating up the legendary painter and Tolkien illustrator Ted Nasmith for his depictions of elves with shorter hair. 

Also, let's be real ... Elrond was described as "kind as summer" in The Hobbit. I love Hugo Weaving's portrayal, but he's never seemed particularly warm or kind to me. I adore Elrond's portrayal in ROP! I even like his floppy hair. He's a young whipper-snapper of an elf and he seems like the kind of person who would create a place like Rivendell. I mean ... look at this precious cinnamon roll:

Also Celebrimbor has that wise old British dude energy that reminds me of Bilbo or even the professor himself. Tolkien's elves were complex people with varying personalities and passions. They weren't the stoic, almost vulcan-ish, people PJ made them out to be. I love the PJ films, but if we are going to make them the standard, then I guess the room for creativity is gone(?) 

7. "The writing sucks/ is fan fiction." 

I'll admit, the writing is rough in a few places. Galadriel jumping ship was kinda dumb. But its not Rise of Skywalker level dumb. And I'll fully admit that this is fan fiction. All television writing based on an IP is fan fiction. Its fiction written by fans/writers based on already established characters/worlds. 

And frankly, the term "its fan fiction" is not an insult to me, because I've read some darn good fan fiction.  Next argument please. 

8. "Its a cash grab from Amazon so we should hate it." 

It’s not. Read the article by The Hollywood Reporter. Also, let's remember that lots of passionate people worked on this series and it shows. Punishing them because Amazon's name is on it is unfair. I know, I know ... Amazon is not squeaky clean. But if we boycotted every company who had stains on their record, we would be living in cabins in the woods eating squirrels. 

7. “Galadriel couldn’t have survived the volcano/ she does dumb over the top stuff ... this show is not realistic.”

You guys do realize this is a fantasy series, right? Also the way she stood their was so bad@$$. 

And yeah, she did this:

You do know that horse acrobatics is a real thing right? 

Also, need I remind you this over the top elf:

He did dumber stuff and we loved it. It was cool. If we are going to take the time to pick apart the “unrealistic” story full of wizards, elves, and magic, then we are gonna be here awhile.

In conclusion, there is only one episode left and I can’t wait! Even if the finale is “just ok”, it’s been a blast to be back in Middle-earth and that means a lot to me. If you are not a fan of ROP, that’s fine. You don’t have to watch it. But some of us are really enjoying it and I can’t wait for the next 4 seasons. Be nice.

Rant over :P Thank you for listening.

#rings of power #lord of the rings #rant #this show is dope #and no one can convince me otherwise

[warrioreowynofrohan]

In the Third Age, what kind of relationship did Thranduil have with the remaining great Elves (Galadriel, Elrond, Círdan, Glorfindel and Celeborn) who were still in Middle Earth? How do you think they felt about him and vice versa? Also, what kind of presence would Thranduil have at council (such as a meeting of the White Council or the Council of Elrond), in your opinion?

This is a good question!

I expect there are people in fandom who know mich more on this than I do, particularly if there’s material on Thranduil in the History of Middle-earth books, most of which I haven’t read. There’s very little on Thranduil in The Lord of the Rings; I’m working mainly from Unfinished Tales, which has more.

The references in Unfinished Tales point to Thranduil wanting to stay out of the politics of western Middle-earth and particularly, after the heavy losses faced by the Elves of Greenwood during the Last Alliance, wanting to keep his people from being embroiled in another Noldor-led bloodbath.

There was constant intercourse between [Oropher’s] people and their kin across the river, until the War of the Last Alliance [emphasis mine].

Despite the desire of the Silvan Elves to meddle as little as might be in the affairs of the Noldor or the Sindar, or of any other peoples, Dwarves, Men, or Orcs, Oropher had the wisdom to foresee that peace would not return unless Sauron was overcome. He therefore assembled a great army of his now numerous people…he led the host of Silvan Elves to battle. [Their losses were grievous and] Thranduil his son…led home barely a third of the army that had marched to war.

Also

[Oropher and the Sindar who came with him to Greenwood] came from Doriath after its ruin, and had no desire to leave Middle-earth, nor to be merged with the other Sindar of Beleriand, dominated by the Noldorin Exiles for whom the folk of Doriath had no great love. They wished indeed to become Silvan folk and to return, as they said, to the simple life natural to the Elves before the invitation of the Valar had disturbed it.

This does not mean that Thranduil was unaware of what was going on in the world; he was perceptive and believed from the start of the Third Age that Sauron was not permanently destroyed: He had seen the horror of Mordor and could not forget it…and though he knew that it was now broken and desrted and under the vigilance of the Kings of Men, fear spoke in his heart that it was not conquered for ever: it would arise again.

My overall conclusion from this is that the already-existing disinclination of the elves of Greenwood/Mirkwood to get involved in ‘great power politics’ - in particular, great power politics led by Noldor like Gil-galad, and later by Galadriel and Elrond - was strengthed by their heavy losses in the Last Alliance. There’s no indication that Thranduil was a member of or participant in the White Council (which was first organized by Galadriel; I’ve always assumed its only members were the Istari, Galadriel, and Elrond, though I can’t find anything concrete on that), and it’s unlikely that he would have been willing to participate even if Galadriel asked him (which I don’t expect she did).

Legolas’ presence at the Council of Elrond as a messenger was mere coincidence, or Providence; he came as a messenger with news of Gollum’s escape, and his account of that news is the only time he speaks during the Council; he played no role in the deliberations over what to do about the Ring.

This does not mean that Thranduil was isolationist - indeed, he and his people, with their regular commerce with Men of Esgaroth, and later with the re-established kingdoms of Dale and Erebor, were the least isolationist elven-kingdom in western Middle-earth in the Third Age.

Thranduil also had contact with the Woodmen of Rhovanion - in the section of Unfinished Tales on the Battle of the Gladden Fields where Isildur was killed, it says that the Woodmen sent runners to Thranduil to tell him of the battle, and a combined force of Woodmen and Wood-elves came upon the aftermath of the battle, causing the orc-army to scatter to escape them. The wood-elves call the woodmen the Free Men of the North (because they are not ruled by Gondor or Arnor, or under the dominion of Sauron and his followers), which I think is telling; it suggests they regard these men as similar to themselves in their desire to be ‘free elves’ not ruled by Noldor.

Thranduil was willing to provide assistance as needed: Isildur was planning to resupply with Thranduil on his journey north to Rivendell, and later Thranduil kept Gollum captive at the request of Aragorn and Gandalf. Given the quote above about Thranduil’s opinion of Valarin ‘interference’, I would gather that Thranduil’s good relationship with Gandalf was something that Gandalf built up over time, and on his own account, not based on his role as an emissary.

So Thranduil is involved with the events of the wider world, probably to a larger degree and on more equal terms than any other elves; but he has no desire to interfere with the politics of other realms, or have them interfere with his, or get caught up in anyone else’s plans.

Anyway! Getting to your actual main question, the topic of Thranduil’s relationships with the remaining elves of the First Age! From the information above, I would say that Thranduil preferred to keep himself at an arm’s length from Elrond and Galadriel, the two most prominent Noldor remaining in Middle-earth; they would be on civil but not warm terms. He doesn’t want his people dying under Noldor kings or for Noldor ends any more, and is trying not to get tied up with them. The Lord of the Rings shows that Thranduil and the wood-elves have very little contact with Lothlórien: Legolas says “it is long since any of my own folk journeyed hither,” though the distance is not great, and he knows little of the realm beyond rumour. But Celeborn is glad to see him, saying “too seldom do my kindred journey [here] from the north.” I think Celeborn would be happy to be on closer terms with Thranduil, and Thranduil seems to like him well enough on his own account: after the War of the Ring Celeborn and Thranduil meet in Mirkwood and rename it the Forest of Greenleaves, and Celeborn briefly sets up a realm in southern Mirkwood. This contrasts with Oropher’s prior resentment of Celeborn and Galadriel’s ‘encroachments’ on his territory in the Second Age, and I think the fact that it is Celeborn specifically, and not Galadriel, that makes a large part of that difference. I think he and Celeborn would have been close in the Fourth Age, sharing a culture, and a love of Middle-earth, and grief for kin who chose to depart.

There are additional complexities when it comes to Elrond. Thranduil very clearly identifies with Doriath, and models his halls after Menegroth. I have to think that, for Oropher and Thranduil and the Sindar who followed them, Elrond is a constant tragedy, the Stolen Generation of Doriath: the descendent of Thingol, but kidnapped and reared in a foreign and enemy culture and irreversibly changed by it, in such a way that his rule would be alien and unsuitable for the Sindar of Greenwood even if he sought it (which, fortunately, he did not).

Close relations between Thranduil and Círdan in the Third Age are probably prevented simply by the sheer amount of space between them. And in addition to distance, given Thranduil’s desire to remain in Middle-earth, and the nigh-instantaneous effect of the Sea upon Legolas, I think Thranduil would want to keep all of his people at a good distance from it, which would prevent much interaction with Círdan. It’s not personal, but in ushering elves out of Middle-earth Círdan is playing a role that is diametrically opposed to Thranduil’s and his people’s goals and desires.

#tolkien #the silmarillion #the lord of the rings #thranduil #silvan elves #sindar #elrond #celeborn #galadriel #cirdan #oropher

[runawaymun]

All your fic idea sound delightful but I’m very curious about the Magician Nephew x LOTR crossover and the Another MGME but it's just my OCs from my historical fiction novel!

Ask me about my not-yet-written-fics from this list

Okay, so:

,Magician's Nephew x LOTR crossover

It's so easy to make this work.

Jill and Diggory have magic rings that transport them to the wood between worlds. In theory, the wood contains portals to every world that has ever existed, or ever will exist, right?

So the events of the magician's nephew happen. They wake Jadis, get chased by her all the way back to the wood, and then they run for the nearest pool. And rather than it being home they run for the one that happens to be Middle Earth.

Jadis still grabs onto Digg's ankle.

(Debating on whether or not to include uncle andrew. It does involve them having to go back to England in between their trip to the dying world, and then for some reason back to the wood. Maybe the whole lampost situation happens still idk. I do just love the idea of Jadis and Uncle Andrew traipsing through Middle Earth).

I have not fully decided which age to put them in but there IS something immensely funny about Diggory and Jill wandering around Middle Earth with some magic rings.

And also for some reason Diggory and Jill end up with one ring color, and Jadis (and also potentially Uncle Andrew) wind up with the other ring color, and/or there just aren't enough rings and somebody ends up with all the green ones).

They wind up separated and traipsing around looking for each other and/or trying to separate Uncle Andrew and Jadis. I think it's best if maybe Uncle Andrew and Jadis have the green rings, but aren't willing to leave without also having the yellow ones.

Jill and Diggs wind up in Rivendell (obviously I MUST include Elrond) and give everyone a heart attack because they have a funny little yellow ring that absolutely rubs Vilya the wrong way and doesn't match any Music in middle earth. Meanwhile apparently according to them there are Some Very Dangerous People wandering around with another set of weird magic rings.

I want Jadis to decide that she absolutely wants to be queen of Middle Earth and to try very hard to launch a campaign for it.

Also want Jadis to find out that there are other magical objects and to try and collect them all like Pokemon, and to be a royal pain in EVERYONE'S (including Sauron's) ass.

Anyway that's it that's the idea.

MGME But It's Just My OCs From My Hisfic Novel

okay to make this make sense you gotta understand that within the actual history post the book I wrote, two of the main characters get killed.

(the book is set during the very last year of the nine years' war in Ireland, where Hugh O'Neill, High King of Ireland and Chieftain of Ulster fought against the colonizing English army. He had convinced Spain to help him (Catholics vs Protestants), but the Spanish pulled out and Baron Mountjoy (British occupation) essential starved the Irish out by burning all their crops, and eventually Hugh signed a treaty after one final stand in Ulster. Baron Mountjoy smashed the stone of kings, where all the High Kings of Ireland had been crowned for thousands of years, and formally began the occupation, moving British colonizers in to take over the farmland in Ulster and press the Irish into serfdom.

ANYWAY. So that's the background. Later Hugh and his ally Rory O'Donnell go to Spain to try and muster up some more help, but they wind up actually getting sick and dying during the trip.

So my OCs are Hugh's wife and daughter. (Hugh was, historically, a terrible husband and I am an absolute slut for messy toxic dynamics). The OC winds up with Rory in the end bc he was historically a Really Cool Guy.

So naturally, instead of them dying later I'm like 'haha what if they just got transported to Middle Earth'.

I have not thought this through very hard but I would obviously like the Classic 'they wind up in Rivendell' because again, Elrond, obviously obviously.

Mostly SOL but I could also see Rory and Hugh going "oh, there's another colonizer who wants to destroy the free people of THIS land??? Fuck him. We're absolutely joining that fight."

I could see this being set in the second age actually during the first founding of Rivendell (and so Rory and Hugh and up in TLA) but I could also see them at Pelennor in the TA, but unfortunately that means that my OC mom doesn't get to meet Cel :( And I want them to be friends. They would get along so well.

Elrond, of course, parents both OCs (even though one of them is a grown ass mom) because I want him to. Also he hisses at Hugh. Because he's trash.

Alternatively they could wind up sometime in the early third age and join the war against Angmar and then we still get Cel. I'm not picky.

This one is more vague and I mostly daydream about SOL situations of my OCs in Rivendell but there's definitely A Plot in there somewhere.

#not yet written fics ask game #the hisfic novel #the magician's nephew #thank you!!!!!

[sallysavestheday]

Here to distract you! Tell us about Glorfindel's family.

Thanks, @polutrope!

Lots of interest in Glorfindel today, which makes me happy because I love him. I have actually written multiple versions of him, so let's tease out the variations.

In The Flower and the Fountain, he is half-Vanyarin. His mother is a relative of Ingwë, to account for canon references to him being from "a house of princes," and she currently plays the classic Tolkien role of Unnamed Woman From and About Whom We Hear Very Little (but I am working on that in a WIP, honestly! Stay tuned!). They're close. She is pious and it's through her that he acquires his religiosity and his fondness for sacred dance (see: Come Round Right). It's a loving and supportive household and he grows up happy if somewhat isolated from the rest of the world of Aman. That Glorfindel is an only child, not related directly to any of the other primary figures of Silm fanon or canon.

In that 'verse, his father is a Noldo of status, who chose, when he wed, to move to Valimar rather than bring his wife to Tirion. He is not a fan of Feanor, nor particularly of Fingolfin or Arafinwe, although his Vanyarin connection gives him some sympathy for Indis and her children. Of the three, he's most willing to suffer Arafinwe, who seems to have his head on relatively straight and, like Glorfindel's father himself, beat it out of Tirion at the first possible opportunity on the arm of a beloved one. So when Glorfindel becomes friends with Angrod and Aegnor in his youth he doesn't really resist. It's good politics, etc., etc. When Glorfindel enters Aegnor's service he's a bit cautious; he doesn't see the arming of the Noldor as a good thing. And he's definitely part of the tithe of the Noldor that doesn't follow anyone into Exile. Nope, that's dumb. Sit down, sons of Finwe, and cool your jets, before you get any more people killed, etc., etc. He and Glorfindel don't fight about the latter's choosing to go, but it is a source of grief for both of them and they miss each other fiercely.

That version of his father is central to What Carries You, within that series. Young Glorfindel is quite sensitive to the Powers and very pious, and struggles with being overwhelmed by the aura of the Ainur growing up in Valimar. His father does Good Dad Things (read the fic, for elaboration ;)) to help him manage himself, which he carries forward into his life in Middle-earth. He's a loving father, helpful, remembered warmly. Even after Glorfindel returns, Glorfindel the Hero is not his father's favorite iteration: he loves his dancing, plant-growing, embroidering son the very best. Which is a good thing, all round.

In Follow the Light Unflinchingly, on the other hand, Glorfindel is entirely Vanyarin, and does not have a good relationship with his father (or, by implication, his mother). Elenwe draws him out, in that fic, into his adult self and into confidence and joy. She is his cousin and his best friend, and he follows her to Tirion when she marries Turgon (and then over the Ice). He takes Idril under his wing when Elenwe dies, and is absolutely devoted to her for the rest of his life, both for herself and in memory of Elenwe.

Obviously I headcanon him as married to Ecthelion. In The Flower and the Fountain, their shared dual heritage (Ecthelion has a Noldorin father and a Telerin mother) is one of the things that binds them together. But Glorfindel's longing for a child of his own is a point of tension (Ecthelion is a huge fan of Earendil and an honorary uncle, but that's enough for him, thankyouverymuch). I solved that problem in The Stars Remain the Same with the assistance of @idrilsscribe, who let me borrow her headcanon that Glorfindel was asked by Elrond to take on a quasi-parental role for Elrohir, to assist in the raising of the twins. Child acquired, family complete...and Ecthelion finally gets on the bus, at that point, so they end up happy.

Thanks again for the ask! This kept me happily busy for a long time in a very fraught waiting room this afternoon. :)

#asks and answers #my fic #fic recs #glorfindel #tolkien fanfiction

[tanoraqui]

replying to @aragornsrockcollection’s tags on this post separately because I need to scream back: 

#SCREAMING #CRYING #omg im fascinated by how you made Maedhros realize they now have the power to get them ALL killed #and how he immediately has to put up barriers of fear to make sure that doesn’t happen #and hey you know who else was suicidally defiant? #Turgon #and Fingolfin #so really they’re getting it from both sides #and being raised by feanorians is about to add some nurture to that nature #maedhros is like YOU GONNA STAY YOU GONNA WORK #and soon these two are going to be the only thing that keeps their crops alive #and maedhros is going to regret this because being reliant on them is MUCH more vulnerable than what he is thinking will happen here #trying to cow them with fear is actually going to backfire when powerful cocky teenagers come into that defiant legacy #if maedhros were more morally depraved he’d try to mother gothel them at this point #them caring for the feanorians is the only thing that’s going to stop them trying to break free of their influence #and destroying both parties #but since that doesnt happen they must realize as they grow that maedhros is desperately trying to keep everyone alive despite everything #elros and elrond learning early that no one is wholely evil #and you can choose to understand even if you cannot condone #is like 90% of tolkien’s philosophy and why these characters are such a force for good #if maedhros and maglor had tried happy families instead of being honest about their deeds and character #they would not have developed that and love would not have grown between them #which is why i can’t quite get on board with ‘feanorians right or wrong’ elrond #it kills what i like about this relationship #they have to organically realize maedhros’s threat is empty #(and it is they hold no silmaril and maedhros proved at doriath he desperately did not want to harm children) #in order to see the suffering that make the feanorian’s sympathetic

Because YES, YES, BOLDING MINE BECAUSE YES, YOU GET ME. First of, YES, Elros and Elrond get “willing and able to spit in the face of literal gods” from literally every part of their lineage (was, like, Nimloth normal about this? possibly, but almost certainly not.) ​The premise of their lives has is that the nightmares of their childhood (”eat your vegetables or the Fëanorians will get you”) came true, with blood and wrath, and then...took them in, and were consistently kind and caring, or at least, as kind and caring as their worn-down bright spirits could be, and became familiar and loved. By the time they’re teenagers, Elrond and Elros fear neither brood of Morgoth nor bright Vala, Elda or Maia or Aftercomer, and when they arrive in Gil-galad’s moving camp like a third of the way into the War of Wrath, everything authority figure who interacts with them gets the distinct sense that these twins, while consistently respectful and obedient to whatever military hierarchy they slide into, are only doing so probationarily. And somehow, being too disparaging about the Fëanorians is a black mark on that probationary judgement.

Because YES, they UNDERSTAND the Sons of Fëanor. They CHOSE to understand (no one so young should be experienced enough in the horrors of the world to be making such choices, but the incontrovertible fact is that Elrond and Elros did not have time for a “childhood.”) I don’t think it’s necessarily that Maedhros didn’t have the moral blackness to try gaslighting these kids so much as he didn’t have the emotional capacity for it - he’s attacked innocent cities and slaughtered refugees of his own people, he’s gotten friend after friend killed, loyal follower after loyal follower, cousin after brother after brother. What’s a little emotional manipulation? If it was the only way to keep everyone left alive, he’d...try.

But the only act he can consistently maintain is that he’s several safe feet from the cliff of complete mental/emotional/physical collapse, rather than walking along the edge. (It isn’t a very good act, if you know him.) And Maglor, who has a little more emotional capacity left, and who has always been a skilled actor, also has a little more moral reluctance - and anyway it’s not necessary, because from the start they’re brutally honest about what’s going on here (emphasis on brutally). All children appreciate honesty from adults. And so love grows between them in truth.

The Fëanorians are monsters, Elros and Elrond will admit that freely. They don’t flinch from any sort of slaughter - they’ve seen Maedhros kill an elf for stealing a cake of lembas with as much ease as he killed a deer for meat or an orc in battle. The first thing Maglor ever said to them as a lie, a soothing, beguiling Song to lure them out of their hiding spot and into his arms. They have done nearly every terrible thing there is to do in the world and they will do more if they must, for the Oath drives them and they take strength from it.

But the first thing Maedhros said to them was a lie, too, they eventually realized: “If your mother does not give us the Silmaril, you will be killed.” And there have been no lies since, save the half-truths adults use to shield children from the horrors of the world (and few of those. Who has time, when the horrors are all on their doorstep no matter what anyone says?) The Oath drives them and they take strength from its ceaseless fire, but only because they have so little strength to draw from anywhere, anything else. And they can still decide where to be driven - that is why Elrond and Elros are here now, with the Host of the West. “Two Silarmils are better than one,” Maedhros had finally said, after days of debate. “Morgoth cannot stand against all the Valar against him, this we know - and nor can we stand idly by while they fight our war. But there is no way Gil-galad, Arafinwë, or Eonwë himself will believe we mean alliance truly unless we give up our hostages. So you two will bear the message yourselves, and stay.”

They are terrible and fey. Maglor’s mood swings violently and his tongue is always sharp even when his smile is bright (but he usually avoided them when he felt a truly black mood coming on. Sometimes they had to seek him out to tug him gently from the depressive ones). Maedhros woke screaming in the Black Speech some nights, curses that made the very stones shiver in fear. Sometimes he woke pleading in the same fell speech, pleading for or to an every-changing variety of names in Quenya. Growing half-elves, growing at Mannish speed, because there’s time for nothing else, sleep like Men rather than Elves; each night that there wasn’t an active emergency, and some that there was, Maglor sang to them - not particularly enchantingly, just lullabies recognizably full of love. The few times he was unavailable - away on necessary hunting forays, or too injured to sing - Maedhros came and sang instead, and held them gently through the anxious fear. If his motions and melodies seemed more reflexive than truly affectionate, still they had to wonder at a monster for whom gentle care was as reflexive as the cutting of throats.

Some of their followers were the worse sort of Men or Elf, the kind eager to follow any campaign with slaughter and prizes at the end. Some had been loyal since Tirion, faltering and fraying and staying true along with their lords. Some were just throwing their lots in with the only fortress left standing against Morgoth for hundreds of miles. All were welcome so long as they stood staunchly side by side against the enemy, and Elrond and Elros did consider going back, or never leaving in the first place, no matter what their guardians decided, because they know that sometimes (often), the Fëanorians, lords and people alike, hold to them for strength, and what will become of them all without us to look after them?

(They are no strangers to that weight; they never were. Often the people of Sirion looked at them the same way. Sometimes even their mother did, though she tried to hide it.)

(A millennia or so later, Elrond is going to come back from a visit to Numenor shaking his head and admit to Celebrian, who is visiting Lindon for a few years, “[Newly crowned Great-etc Nephew] is so certain that he has to heal every hurt and mend every fault in the world... I cannot but think that it is because of how much weight his father put on his shoulders, in his grief after [Great-etc Nephew’s mother] died. I had hoped he might grow out of it, but he only seems to have grown more determined in it.” And Celebrian, young but wise, will smile and say fondly, “You hypocrite,” and Elrond will think on it for many years.)

“Guardians” they do call them, and nothing else, however they might feel in their hearts, because this was another thing Elrond and Elros discussed and decided between them: their father is missing, until he’s suddenly the one sailing a star through the sky. Either way, they have no other. Understanding and even love may both be true, but matters of principle can still stand.

The Fëanorians don’t fight alongside the Host of the West, for the most part. Nobody really wanted to cooperate that much, and why risk things started well turning to evil ends? Sometimes they arrive at battles to fill gaps in the line, then disappear again into the soon-to-be-flooded woods. Other times, the only word of them is when a scout hears distant bursts of Maglor’s terrible war-songs, or comes across fields of slain orcs. Once or twice, Elrond and Elros are called into the command tend to verify a letter. “Yes, that’s Maglor’s writing and sealing charm,” Elrond says with relief, scanning the hasty scrawl: Don’t cross the Gelion you idiots, it’s a trap. If you’re so worried about the Laquendi there, we’ll go make sure they’re alright. 

“But is it truthful?” Arafinwë asks with no small concern. “No offense, but it’s not as though Fëanor’s sons have cared for civilians before. If it’s even a trap at all - obviously they have experience in this, but we know the Enemy’s forces are divided...” 

Elros looks at him like he was an idiot. “Those were Caranthir’s lands. And if Maedhros says the Enemy is laying a trap, then the Enemy is laying a trap.”

The last time Elrond and Elros speak together with the Sons of Fëanor, there are also no lies. Technically. Maglor and Maedhros both just by unspoken agreement give them the strong impression that they are very likely to accept Eonwë’s offer of sailing and pleading their case, when in reality they’ve barely discussed it yet themselves. This is, the Sons of Fëanor both think, perfectly in line with the half-truths one tells children to shield them a little longer from the horrors of the world.

(Two hundred years later, Elros will say thoughtfully to his brother, while they watch Elros’s grandchildren play on one of Numenor’s many beaches, “I think I understand now, you know... It’s so terribly easy to disappoint your children.” It will take Elrond longer to agree - he’d believed more, walking away through the camp at the end of the War of Wrath, that their stubborn faith was going to be justified; and he doesn’t have Elros’s deadline to sort out his affairs. But six millennia later, he’ll decide that forgiveness, love, and two Ages of the world can outweigh some principles, and anyway, however he got this way, he’s too much of a healer to leave anyone so wounded behind. So he’ll give Galadriel and Mithrandir warning, though not ask for permission, and ride down the shore until he finds his foster-father, and bring him home at last.)

(And if it takes a soothing, beguiling Song to lure Fëanor’s last son, skittish with isolation and more than half lost in memory, onto a ship, or at least to a campfire to discuss getting onto a ship....well, it’s not the only reprise in the Noldolante. And it is a healer’s prerogative, sometimes, to help even those patients who resist the aid.)

#me: i'm gonna reply enthusiastically but REASONABLY quickly to this #dark kermit!me: or you could vent most of your kidnap family headcanons all at once #me: OR I COULD VENT MOST OF MY KIDNAP FAMILY HEADCANONS ALL AT ONCE! #the silmarillion #elrond #elros #maglor #maedhros #peredhil #feanor and feanor's kin #…ok maybe next ask me about my thoughts about the last followers of the sons of feanor or #the maglor/earendil 90% sane courtly romance of my heart #my fic

[liminal-zone]

[HEAVY BREATHING]

Unhinged fic snippet as requested. Saurondriel with a guest. TW for discomforting sex and violence, consent very much questionable. Just an idea I’ve been playing with for my future dyad ring fic. I may go another direction though. ANYWAY. UNHINGED.

“Come, my queen,” the dark lord says with his hand outstretched. “Our guest won’t mind.”

She recognizes the lie for she understands the horror of his intention, but she takes his hand all the same. The dyad rings bind their spirits together, yes, but her lord makes sure to bind their flesh as well.

And she cannot live without his smile and to see her light reflected in the black of his eyes.

When he’s sated his lust in her, when her lungs are sore and her throat is hoarse and her immortal blood is on the floor and her skin is sticky and her sex is numb, he holds her body close to him and whispers into the shell of her sensitive ear. “If you love me, Galadriel,” he says and she immediately nods without thought for she loves him beyond reason, “you will kill him.”

With uncommon gentleness, he turns her head to their guest, tied to a chair and quieted by a spelled rag in his mouth.

There’s a dagger in her hands and she clutches the hilt tight. An orc blade, poisoned by the unseen world. She rises, her body shaking still from their wretched and wanton acts, and approaches their guest. Doesn’t let him speak a word, and immediately lances his heart. Blood blossoms from the spot, a deep red staining that fine feathery shirt.

Her lord willed it, and it is done.

But she is compelled to move, take a step closer and raise her hand to the elven lord’s face. Touch his cheek and look into his eyes. Wonder at how his expression is no longer anguished–

She blinks three times and finds herself on a beach, sand at her knees and the roar of an ocean near her. She is much younger and she is holding a young man in her arms who is slowly drinking from a bottle she gave him.

“Forgive this intrusion in your mind, my dearest friend,” he is saying. “But I have little time.”

She blinks and he is older now and standing above her. “I cannot convince you with words.”

There’s a small vial in his hands and he offers it to her. “Our most beloved star,” he says. “May it be a light to you now, as all other lights have gone out.”

She blinks and sees another life. Thousands of years of friendship with this elven lord, the joys of a loving daughter wed to him, the noble grandchildren that come to bring her laughter and strength. The way her family is knit together in the war against their craven enemy and holds fast, even against temptation and sorrow. The love that lingers until the breaking of the world. A power beyond any ring.

“Namárië,” she hears Elrond say to her and when her eyes open, their guest is dead. And when her eyes open, the orc blade is gone from her hands and in its place, the light of Eärendil.

She thinks: he wanted this death to be a sign of my fealty She thinks: he wanted this death to mean something

A strange manipulation; her dark lord and her murdered guest. Galadriel hears the whisper of the ring at her finger for the first time. It is her own voice saying, at last, no.

Something in her breaks into shards, and something new is forged in the flame of her grief.

“Get on your knees,” she says, her voice soft and even toned.

The dark lord laughs, confused.

Galadriel is at her full height now, and even in her state with her blood and his seed on her naked flesh, she is imperial in her stance and expression. The daughter of the golden house reborn anew, and now more terrible than the dawn.

“Get on your knees, slave, or I will drag you to the ground.” Her words reinforced by the power of the ring at her finger, and echoed in the ring on his.

His face is briefly a snarl of disgust and horror, before she reaches for him, her hand not outstretched in partnership, but a palm to press against his throat and nails to dig into this skin. His face falls and his smile is gone. (She will see it again, she knows, after his penance is done. After all, she loves him beyond reason.) His face shifts, an expression of submission.

“Knees,” she says softly before removing her hand. He does more than that. A supplicant on his belly before her, his lips immediately at her ankle.

#lizzen fic #the dyad rings #text post #anon #saurondriel #murder as foreplay #dark galadriel rights #still fussing with this #but i need to fridge that man pretty fucking hard #FUN

[ala-chan]

So, about Rings of Power...

THIS IS NOT SPOILER FREE

I’ve watched Rings of Power yesterday, or rather, I tried to watch it. 

My expectations were really low from the beginning, from the first trailer, based also on the fact that Amazon doesn’t have the rights to the Silmarillion, which was, in my opinion, very problematic already. But still, I said to myself: “Just watch it. Maybe it’s not going to be as bad as you fear it might be.” Well, after the first 20 minutes of the first episode I realised that my expectations were not low ENOUGH. 

Here’s a list of the horrors my eyes had to watch and my ears had to hear until my soul decided to leave my mortal body:

-  a very poor intro that didn’t explain anything about the past events: it was focused on building a cliché background of Galadriel. 

-  FINROD: I know, they don’t have the rights to the Silmarillion. But you can’t CHANGE Finrod’s life like that, saying that he decided to hunt Sauron and was killed by him, just to give Galadriel her motivation for her actions. Finrod was more than that, and it saddens me to see him oversimplified like this.

- GALADRIEL: their intention was to show her as a powerful warrior. Now, lore-wise she fought sometimes, when necessary, but she wasn’t an elvish version of Xena, she was more than that, especially during the Second and Third Age. But still, I was very interested about their Galadriel: sadly, all that I’ve seen is an incompetent commander who watches her men being killed/wounded by the Troll and can’t guide and give orders to her men like a true leader. 

Also, where is her husband Celeborn? (maybe it’s too early for her daughter Celebrian...but at least Celeborn, come on). And her actress is too young in my opinion, because she looks like the same age as Elrond and younger than Gil-Galad.

- ELROND: he’s not allowed to participate in the Council because is not an “Elf Lord”. The son of Earendil and Elwing, so the descendant of Turgon, King of Gondolin and of a MAIA, Melian. Mmh, sure thing.

- GIL - GALAD: and now, we have come to the final abomination that terminated my soul’s will to live on this planet. 

Gil - galad, High King of the Noldor, I know, but still he’s Galadriel’s NEPHEW so to see him older than her makes my skin disintegrate. 

So, Gil - Galad is awarding Galadriel and others for their heroic merits obtained during the war. And until this moment, I was still willing to continue to watch this messed up thing. 

Then, he does THE THING: he grants ACCESS TO VALINOR to GALADRIEL as a “prize” (in reality to stop her from searching for Sauron, I think) for her heroic deeds. 

Gil-Galad couldn’t do shit because the Valar’s ban still wasn’t lifted on Galadriel. The ban was lifted on Galadriel during the Third Age, when she turned down the One Ring Frodo was offering to her, letting him to destroy it.

After this abomination I turned off my tablet to purify my eyes and my ears from this messed up fan fiction.

#rings of power #what a shame #what a missed opportunity #i'm so sad #personal #rantings

[fandom-frenzy]

having now finished the first season of rings of power, here are the things I liked. obviously, spoilers.

the visuals were pretty, particularly the sets. lindon and khazad dum were lovely.

numenor was also a great set, and had excellent callback architecture and art to minas tirith.

elrond, despite the costuming, was really good. his character was written well enough and the actor made him extremely likeable.

arondir was also a new character I really enjoyed. while I didn’t always like the situations or plot he was put into, I liked his character.

(I especially liked that he was a hero who was willing to let the villain kill someone he cared about in order to save the greater good because, let’s be real, that never happens but he has integrity!)

I liked durin and elrond’s friendship, and durin and disa’s relationship. the dwarves in general felt well done.

the music. maybe a tad more choral points than my personal preference, but the music was nice. and the singing to the rocks and the harfoot walking song were nice.

the personalized handshake between nori and her dad, which I only remember because I just watched that episode.

I did like that halbarand was sauron. I liked that sauron was someone we were introduced to and could also be taken in by. do I like how they chose to have him revealed and how that played out? not at all. but the concept, the fact, I liked.

um......

oh yeah, I liked that we saw a bit more of the other side of orcs. adar and his viewpoint was really interesting.

I’m blanking here

bear in mind that I am writing this as I catch up on the next ep of great british baking show because is that how much I cared about this show.

I’m honestly forgetting a lot of what happened between episodes 2 and 5.

elendil! can’t believe I forgot about him. it’s because his bits in the last two eps really dropped, but I really enjoyed him during the time in numenor. probably because we spent time with him and felt like he was a character with complex emotions.

yeah, I think that’s it. there you have it!

#amazon lotr

[yellow-faerie]

Would you be willing to do fluff 20/22 for the Ring Babies? You decide who's surprised at their presence x)

Oh this is brilliant

From this prompt list.

20 - “Where did all these children come from?”

22 - “That’s a baby.”

“Cousin Elrond!” Celebrimbor exclaims brightly, adjusting the baby on his hip as he turns abruptly from the elf he is talking to and hurries down the steps. “You’re here early! We weren’t expecting you or Gil for another week yet.”

Elrond blinks at him, never quite ready for his cousin’s…exuberance. “That’s a baby,” he says, forgoing any greeting.

“Yes, this is Malya - say hello to your cousin Elrond, Malya.”

Malya, apparently, does not want to do this and buries her face into the fabric of Celebrimbor’s tunic.

This, in fact, makes Elrond just a bit more confused. Who was this child? Was she Celebrimbor’s child?

He shakes his head. That is, of course, ridiculous - Celebrimbor isn’t married.

A young girl bursts out of the doors at the top of the stairs, startling quite a few people milling around, and half runs, half leaps her way down towards them.

“Atto!” She exclaims, coming to a skidding halt and ignoring the fact that Elrond is standing right there. “Atya says that a bird just arrived from Aunty Galadriel. It won’t let him take the letter so he needs you.” She nods seriously. “The bird keeps attacking him.”

Celebrimbor makes a face. “Your aunt needs to find better carrier birds.” He laughs, apparently to himself. “Thank you for telling me. Now, Nenya, run up and tell your father that I will there momentarily and try and get the bird under control. And Vilya,” he turns to a pair of boys who appeared without Elrond noticing. “can you and Narya please find Fenordh and tell xem that the king’s herald arrived earlier than expected?”

As quickly as they came, they disappear again, Nenya with her head held high and with a great air of importance about her which doesn’t quite fit with her childish countenance and Vilya chasing his brother.

“Sorry about that, Galadriel still doesn’t like Mai even though I explained that he’s not evil and he doesn’t want to kill me.” Celebrimbor grins brightly at Elrond, adjusting Malya’s position on his hip.

“Mai?” Elrond asks, trying to work out whatever it is that’s going on.

“Annatar,” Celebrimbor explains as if Elrond should know this. “Mairon is another of his names.”

“Mairon…” Elrond says weakly, the name sparking uncomfortable familiarity. “You…”

“Atto!” Narya calls, leaning over the fence of a balcony about three floors above. Celebrimbor turns, shielding his eyes with his hand, distractedly letting Malya go when she wiggles to get down. “Atya says that the bird has destroyed the linen cupboard!”

“Oh Eru,” Celebrimbor mutters and calls up to his daughter that he will be there in a moment and to try and get the bird to calm down.

Seemingly forgetting all about Malya and Elrond, he runs up the stairs and disappears into the main building.

Someone tugs on the edge of his tunic.

"'Rond," Malya mumbles, looking up at him with wide eyes, "'m hungry."

Elrond blinks down at her, entirely unsure what to do with this child. "Well then, we should probably...have some food."

He digs around in his pocket a moment, trying to remember if he had pocketed any of the dried fruit from his last meal. He doesn't find any but he does find a bag of dried seaweed that he doesn't remember packing but he supposes is good enough as food.

So with Malya happily eating that on her place on his hip, they venture further into the palace.

She will undoutbedly just be happy to see her fathers but Elrond has a lot of questions and he very much needs them answered.

#I really love Malya just so everyone is aware #Elrond #Celebrimbor #Narya #Nenya #Vilya #Malya #Ring Babies AU #Other People's OCs #Silvergifting #Silmarillion #Tolkien #Fanfiction #Fae's Stuff #Prompt #Prompt List 2 #Ask #ibrithir-was-here

[sunflowersupremes]

Entreat

You shall find little pity, though all whom ye have slain should entreat for you.

Characters: Maglor, Earendil, Elwing, Elrond, Celebrían, Erestor, Glorfindel, Egalmoth, Finrod

Tags: Fourth Age, Sailing To Valinor, Kidnapping, This time it’s Maglor getting kidnapped, Arda is an escape room and Earendil has the emergency escape button, Earendil sneaks his son’s father into Valinor, Manwë is just done with the entire line of Finwe at this point, Elwing is just along for the ride (literally)

Read on AO3

At some point, it seemed, he had lost track of the years. It was well into the Fourth Age, perhaps even the Fifth, and all seemed well in the world. Sauron was gone, a houseless spirit who would never again take shape. Morgoth, too, was gone, trapped beyond the Doors of Night.

Even Cirdan, the only elf he had had any contact with in his long years of solitude (not because he had invited him) was gone. He knew only because the aged Shipwright had suddenly stopped leaving parcels of food and then the Grey Havens had finally crumbled to dust.

The world was peaceful and quiet.

And Makalaurë was dying.

It hadn’t been an Orc - they were gone as well - or a wild beast or even a mortal with a violent streak. No, Makalaurë Feanorian had stumbled in the dark, fallen to the bottom of a cliff, and the tide was rising.

He had fallen in the night, and when the sun had come up he’d realized how helpless his situation was. The small rock he was lying on jutted at least a foot out of the water, but with the tide… soon it would be engulfed.

I shall join my Silmaril then, in the depths at long last. And my brothers too, in Mandos, and there we shall remain, I imagine, until the unbreaking of the world.

It wasn’t that he was keen to die, or that he had given up, but his leg was shattered and there was no way off the rock he had landed on. The water was too choppy to swim, even without his shattered leg, and the cliff to steep to climb for a man who only had one functioning hand.

There was a ship in the distance, but he could not raise his voice enough to call it.

He wondered what Mandos was like, and remembered the Doom that had been put upon him:

‘your houseless spirits shall come then to Mandos. There long shall ye abide and yearn for your bodies, and find little pity, though all whom ye have slain should entreat for you.’

Ha! No one would entreat for him.

He would remain there, in the haunted depths of that place, until the Breaking of the World. Perhaps… perhaps they would even forget to Sing of him, in the Second Song, and let his soul simply slip away into nothingness.

That would not be so bad.

Was he hallucinating or was the little boat coming closer?

Maglor managed to raise his head, startled to see that, in the time he’d been contemplating his own death, the little boat was coming steadily closer.

Perhaps… perhaps he was not destined for Mandos just yet?

The man at the helm was young, his eyes gleaming, blonde hair blowing in the breeze. He was beautiful, but mortal.

It came to a stop beside him, but Maglor found his throat was still too dry to speak, barely able to raise one hand in greeting.

“Hail and well met!” called his rescuer. It was a mortal tongue, although the dialect had seemingly shifted since the last time Maglor had heard it. He was able to follow along well enough though.  

The boat was secured to a rock, and the man jumped out, landing lightly beside Maglor, helping him to sit up. “Steady,” he murmured.

Maglor’s head spun, the world around him growing blurry.

“I have you, brother,” the man said quietly, crouching beside Maglor, sliding his hands under his legs and shoulders, carefully lifting him up.

He moaned as his leg was jostled.

The boat was larger than he’d realized, though it was still a brave little thing, with a cabin that Maglor was carried to. It was a good thing he’d been the smallest of his brothers, otherwise a mortal would never have been able to pick him up.

“I saw your fall,” the man said, bringing him a glass of water and holding it to his lips. “I thought to go on, that there was no chance you had survived-“ he shook his head. “And then I told myself, ‘no, no you must go for him, for if not you then who?’ “

No one, thought Maglor glumly.

“No one,” agreed the man, as though he had heard his thoughts. “For no one else could have reached you before the tide.”

The tea tasted faintly of herbs and he found himself growing more relaxed, his body begging for the bliss of sleep. He struggled to keep his eyes open, but his rescuer waved his hand, as though urging him to sleep.

As he drifted into unconsciousness, he thought he heard the man say, “No one else, I think, would even have tried.”

When he awoke his leg was wrapped and propped on a pillow. The boat was swaying slightly, rocking on the waves, and he imagined he was going to be dropped off on the nearest stretch of shore.

Very well.

It was more of a chance than he deserved, and he would savor it. The cabin was sparsely decorated. Just a bed, a desk, and a chest. Nothing seemed to signify where the man was from, or what the purpose of the little boat was. It didn’t seem to be a fishing boat. For pleasure, then? He could be a lordling who simply enjoys the sea.

Maglor laid on his back, studying the ceiling until the door finally opened and his rescuer stepped inside. Beyond him, Maglor could see miles of open water.

“You’re awake!”

“Tha- thank you,” Maglor choked out. His throat was sore from Ages of abuse and a lack of decent folk to make conversation with, but he managed anyway.

“Of course,” said the man easily. He brought Maglor more tea and helped him to sit up to swallow it.

Maglor pointed to the door, uncertain how to communicate that he needed to leave before he brought any Doom upon his rescuer.

“No, no,” said the man, “Stay here and rest a while, brother. Shore is a ways off yet, I should think.” He tucked the blankets around Maglor with surprising gentleness before slipping back out of the cabin as the medication once again sent Maglor to sleep.

A storm started up that night, tossing their brave little boat in great huge waves that reminded Maglor of the sinking of Beleriand or the fall of Numenor.

His rescuer came inside the cabin to shelter with him, soaked from having struggled to get the sail down so it wouldn’t rip. “I knew it was coming,” he said ominously. “The birds scattered.”

Was that some sort of Mortal saying? Maglor frowned, then groaned and attempted to push himself upright. He had to do something, after all, the man had saved him from a long and very wet death. The least he could do was ask Ulmo to maybe have a bit of pity on this child of Eru.

He wasn’t certain the Vala would listen, but it wouldn’t hurt to try, as long as he was careful how he worded the request and made sure to exaggerate that it wasn’t for his own benefit.

“Easy there,” said the man, pushing him back into bed as he tried to sit. “Stay down.”

Weakly he pointed across the room, where he’d noticed a flute earlier in the day. The power of Elves had once been well known, hopefully those tales had remained and the man would know what he wanted to do. His harp was long gone, but he could make due…

But the man shook his head. “You cannot Sing away this storm, I am afraid.”

“I can,” he whispered, willing the man to understand that he was not just any elf. “I can calm it-“ his voice broke and he struggled to cough “-perhaps a little.”

He was given a sad smile and a squeeze on his shoulder. “Rest, brother.”

The storm was gone by morning, and Maglor was again alone in the dark little cabin. The mortal had gone outside as soon as it had calmed, only returning some time later to say, “We’ve been blown off course, but it won’t be hard to correct.”

“The seas are calm,” Maglor croaked. The boat had ceased it’s incessant rocking.

“Lord Manwë is in a merciful mood this morning, it seems.” A man of Gondor then, if he knew the old tales.

Maglor studied him, then quietly said, “Lord Manwë is seldom in such a mood.”

The man’s laugh almost seemed nervous, although who wouldn’t be frightened by the Light of the Trees that still shone from Maglor’s eyes? Even if he had met elves before, those that remained were not exiles like Maglor, but rather elves of the Greenwood.  

“Rest brother,” he said, then nodded his head and slipped back outside. He heard a key turn in the lock.

Maglor was out of bed in an instant, ignoring the pain in his leg. He didn’t like being locked up, even by foolish and well-meaning mortals. Perhaps I made him nervous when I sought to calm the storm last night. And clearly he was not pleased when I spoke of Lord Manwë. He must not have realized the full danger of what he had saved.

But he wasn’t about to stay locked up for long. He needed to know why it was taking so long to get to shore. He’d thought the man would drop him at the earliest convenience, but instead it seemed he’d decided to either take Maglor to civilization or hang onto him until he healed. Neither one would do.

The door was locked - and damn it, why? - but he was a son of Feanor, he’d learned to pick locks in infancy, and soon he had the door open.

Maglor stepped outside and froze.

They were not in the ocean at all, but rather sailing in a sea of stars. Realization dawned.

“Ah,” said the-rescuer-who-was-clearly-Earendil-son-of-Tuor nervously, stroking the head of a white-bird-that-was-probably-the-woman-Maglor-had-once-tried-to-kill that rested on the ship’s rail. “I wondered when you might try that.”

The Fic has several more chapters on AO3 than it does on here.

#maglor #earendil #elwing #elrond #kidnap dads #erestor #glorfindel #silmarillion #silmarillion fanfic #my writing #tolkien fanfic #story: entreat

[wishingtobeinadifferentuniverse]

Wishes (Aragorn x Fem!reader)

Word Count: 2207 Warnings: ANGST

AHHH OK so this fic was made in collaboration with @hey-its-nonny and it was so fun to write!

You woke in a restored Gondor, eyes fluttering open at the beams of golden sunlight seeping through your window. The day you‘d dreaded for months had finally come. It was the day Aragorn was to be wed to his love, Arwen.

You rose, already mourning your loss of your friend and your love. You didn’t know how you could stay, concealed in the dark. Hiding. Ignoring your emotions and acting as if they didn’t exist was a difficult task. But, if it meant Aragorn would be happy, you would try your best, unsure of what might come of it.

Slowly, you slid on your dress, the silky fabric brushing your legs. It was a beautiful gown, one that Arwen had made especially for you. It fit perfectly, snug around your waist and flaring out. In your favorite color, too.

The necklace Aragorn had given you laid heavily on your neck. It felt wrong to be wearing it to this event, but without it, you didn't feel whole.

And with a look in the mirror, you sighed, a saddened smile gracing your lips while you prepared yourself for what would be one of the saddest days of your life.

You thought back to a better time when everything was easier. When your love for Aragorn had bloomed.

It was a cold night. You and Aragorn had gone on yet another adventure together through the hours of the night. After plenty of frolicking and distractions, you’d both agreed that it was time to eat.

You’d decided a warm soup was the way to go, and Aragorn agreed with you on that as well. And while you waited for your meals, you talked around pointless things, avoiding the affection that was blossoming.

You were teasing him, pushing him around, baiting him. When he finally retaliated, he accidentally hit your soup out of your hands. The target for the food? your clothes. Your shirt was covered, and you stifled a laugh while Aragorn looked mortified.

You winced a bit at how hot your soup was, as well as the fact that you could no longer eat it, since it was so elegantly spilled on your shirt.

“Y/N, I am so sorry. Here, let me- I can-” The poor man rambled, looking for a cloth to dry your shirt. You couldn’t help but giggle at how flustered he was, though the fiery wrath of the soup was definitely a contender for your attention.

Yet still, you laughed, opening your bag with a hum. “Aragorn, I’m sure I have a spare shirt in my pa- What? Where is it?” You quietly gasped, Aragorn’s eyes brightening.

“Take mine, Y/N. I have a spare.” He stated, the red on his cheeks dissipating.

Your gentle hands gingerly grasped the shirt as you stood, sharply inhaling at the temperature of the soup. “I’ll be back.”

After a minute or two, you walked over to the table and sat down, cozier than ever in Aragorn’s off-white shirt. You offered a smile and caught Aragorn’s eye, his shocked expression warming your cheeks. “It is a little big, I will admit, but it will do until I get a fresh change of clothing.” You grinned, biting back a smile.

“Keep it.” Aragorn smiled, the corners of his eyes crinkling in the slightest and sweetest of ways. “It looks better on you than it looked on me.” He stated, inhaling a breath after stealing another glance at you.

You still had that shirt, after all the time that passed.

Those were fond memories you had of him, but fleeting. You smoothed your dress down and slipped on your shoes. Another memory came to haunt you, the emotions overwhelming.

You were wandering Rivendell when you heard a giggle. You had turned a corner, finding Aragorn, his lips glued to Arwen’s. You cleared your throat, causing them to break apart, looking at you sheepishly.

Arwen spoke softly, “Oh, I am sorry about that. We didn’t know anyone else would come here.” Of course, she didn’t know that Aragorn and you had spent many hours in this same place. You avoided his gaze and hid your emotion, laughing instead.

“Oh I have so many things I could say, but most important of all, I could tell everyone!” You paraded around them, joking of course. They laughed along, not truly seeing how much this hurt you. And you would keep it that way.

The decorations were beautiful. You gazed upon the arch that Aragorn was to be wed under, trailing down the cascading vines and flowers. You counted at least a hundred guests.

If it weren’t for the emotions you felt at the moment, you might have smiled just because of how beautiful everything looked.

The bells rang, signifying that the ceremony would start soon, and you took a sharp breath. Your stomach churned like you were about to face the armies of Mordor alone. But it wasn’t the time to be afraid. It was time to be Aragorn’s friend.

The very man that your thoughts were formed around jogged up to you, handsome as ever. His armor contrasted his eyes beautifully, and the smile he wore made you melt.

“Y/N. Just the woman I wished to see.” He grinned, placing a hand on your shoulder while you returned the smile.

You hummed, straightening your back. “What do you need?” You asked, ready to do whatever he needed.

“A friend.” He replied, indicating that he was nervous.

“You’ll be fine, Aragorn.” You smiled, placing a hand on his shoulder. “Everything will go smoothly, I assure you.”

The man nodded, a dreadful sigh escaping his lips once the bells rang again. Of all the things you’d said today, the three words that left your lips were some of the hardest to get out. “Go get her.”

Once everyone was settled, the ceremony began with Elrond giving Arwen away. You watched Aragorn closely, the way his eyes lit up when Arwen was unveiled, the pure love and devotion he had for her nearly killing you. You had no idea it would be this hard. Tears pricked at your eyes when they kissed and you were glad you could blame it on the “beauty” of the moment.

You watched Aragorn lead Arwen down the aisle, each step a dagger in your chest. No matter how strong you wanted to be for Aragorn, you couldn’t watch this any longer. Your strained smile slowly disappeared as they walked out of sight. You had to get out of there.

So, when he wasn’t looking, you quietly slipped away, allowing the tears to finally fall. What you didn’t know, however, was that he saw you walk away, more confused and worried than ever.

Once you were far enough, you broke into a sprint. You needed to get as far away from there as fast as you could. You slipped your shoes off, the cold and roughness of the stone adding to your anguish. Upon reaching the garden, you sobbed, collapsing onto the stone ground where you once stood. You couldn’t control it. Your shoulders softly shook as you cried, feeling nothing but sorry for yourself. You thought you could watch Aragorn give a special part of himself to Arwen. You really did. But you couldn’t.

And you hated yourself for it. You held your head in your hands, sniffling quietly into the silence. You never got to tell him how much better he made you. You never got to hug him as Arwen would. You never got to laugh at his flirtatious jokes like Arwen would be able to. You never got to kiss him as Arwen would. But then again, why would he ever kiss someone like you? You weren’t even half as pretty as her.

Too lost in your own sorrow, you didn’t hear Aragorn’s footsteps approaching. Something about rangers, they always knew how to stay quiet and test the situation. Upon seeing you, he removed his crown, kneeling beside you with worry written on his sharp features. “Y/n? Y/n, why are you upset?” The worried man asked, gently grasping your trembling shoulders.

You flinched under the touch, shrinking away from the touch. “It is nothing, Mellon. Please, go be with yo- Arwen. Were you not just betrothed?” You asked, wiping away the salty teardrops on your cheeks.

While you stood to leave, Aragorn mimicked your actions, blocking your exit. “Y/n, please. I only wish to help,” He pleaded, following your gaze. He gently grabbed your chin, sending a shiver down your spine while he forced you to look at him.

“Aragorn, please let me go.” You sniffled, lip quivering while your eyes begged him to leave.

Aragorn frowned, giving one final attempt at helping you. He couldn’t know. He could never know. “Was it Arwen? Gandalf? I do not know what could have upset you in such a way.” He frowned, brow creased in worry.

Finally, you couldn’t take it anymore. No more games, or guessing, or hiding from it. You’d tried so hard, only for it all to come crashing down in flames before your eyes. “It’s you, Aragorn!” You cried, hot tears streaming down your cheeks while throwing your hands out.

You laughed a sad laugh, backing away from the man you’d loved for countless years. “It’s always been you.” You croaked weakly, your voice brittle and defeated. Aragorn was still confused. He cautiously stepped forward, taking your hands in his own. “Y/n, what do you mean?” He asked, clearly worried that he’d hurt you in some way.

You shook your head, biting your lip while you trained your gaze on the ground. “Nothing. It’s nothing. Just-” You smiled, shaking your head as you met his gaze. “Just go be with her. You need to be with her.”

But instead of walking away, Aragorn shook his head. “Y/n, we cannot keep circling amongst each other like this. Please, tell me what I’ve done to hurt you.” He pleaded, worry and remorse engraved in his expression.

You took a shaky breath, tearing up once again. “I can’t, Aragorn.” You admitted, the cost of saying the words far more than you were willing to give. “If I do, I will have to leave.” You choked, willing away the tears.

Aragorn sighed, determination set in his jaw. “Whatever you are facing, Y/n, whatever comes, I will face it beside you.” He stated, confidence and truth behind the words. You hated how perfect he was. Always an amazing friend, but not for much longer.

Finally, after a minute of silence, you decided that if you were going to leave Gondor for the rest of your days, you might as well make it memorable. “Forgive me, Aragorn.” You pleaded, leaning in to steal a kiss from Aragorn.

He hummed in surprise, but didn’t back away, eyes fluttering shut. You relished in the feeling, your hand on his warm, stubbly cheek. It was incredible. Until the both of you realized what was happening. You gasped, backing away from the kiss. “I-“ You stammered, quickly going into a panic. “I’m sorry. I don’t know why I did that.” You breathed, stumbling out of the garden.

You felt like such an idiot. All of the nights wasted in tears rushing back to haunt you as you ran away from the love you’d held onto so dearly. You ran as fast as you could for the forest, clutching the necklace Aragorn had given you. Habit.

Little did you know, Aragorn decided to run after you, desperate to clean up the mess you’d made. You ran, skillfully weaving throughout the trees to lose Aragorn.

Once you thought you were far enough, you leaned against a tree, dirt marks along your arms and legs. That was the last time you would ever see Aragorn. You wasted it. So, you cried. Then you decided you would move on. Start over.

Aragorn approached, careful not to startle you. You looked up, resting your head against the tree with an irritated sigh. “I can’t stay.” You whispered, your defeated tone letting Aragorn know just how much of a toll this took on you.

Aragorn frowned, the glisten of a tear catching your eye. “Why? We can forget it happened, Y/n. We can make this right.” He suggested, a pleading in his voice that you’d only heard a handful of times. It hurt.

“We can’t. I have to leave.” You replied, forcing yourself to look at him. “I love you, Aragorn. I always have and will. Nothing can ever change that. So, unless you have miraculously realized that it is not Arwen, but me you love, which I highly doubt, I’m leaving.” You explained, standing with a sigh, knowing Aragorn would try to follow.

He stood, watching while you unclasped the necklace Aragorn gave you. “Goodbye, Aragorn.” You spoke defeatedly, gently grasping his hands to place the necklace in them.

“Y/n, anything you wish, I will do. Just stay.” He asked one final time, slow tears falling down his cheeks.

You pressed a kiss to his cheek, wiping away his tears with your thumb. “I wish I were Arwen.” And with that, you walked away, thankful that Aragorn didn’t try to follow.

taglist: @lady-latte

#Aragorn #aragorn x reader #lotr #lotr writing

[msotherworldly]

Characters Arcs

When writing a story, whether it be a novel or an epic film, it’s important to have subplots. While all stories should have, in addition to the main plot, something called a “B Plot,” C plots, D plots, and E plots should play a role too. Smaller plots wouldn’t change the entirety of the plot if removed...but when included, they can enhance the main plot, deepening it, and providing a greater meaning to the overall story.

While it isn’t always the case, the B Plot is often the “romance” of a story. While the hero is trying to defeat the bad guy, he develops a friendship or rivalry with a companion, before ultimately falling in love. Of course, romantic or platonic, the best sub plots explore the characters in relation to one another.

These character arcs - the changes to not only the characters themselves, but the evolution of their connection to others - give readers a reason to root for not only your hero, but the whole cast.

The film which exemplifies this point well is the first Lord of the Rings. While the groundwork for these characters, and their relationships, are laid in the book, I will be focusing on the movie version. When adapting Tolkien’s story, Peter Jackson knew the characters had to be more than names on a page. In order to foster a connection between the audience and each member of the fellowship, bonds were strengthened, or even invented, between the various members.

Merry and Pippin & Boromir

The bond between Merry and Pippin is solid in the books, but little is known about Boromir - beyond knowing he’s Denethor’s son, and a future steward of Gondor who attempts to steal the ring from Frodo, there is little else. In the books, he is a tragic figure and a lesson in how destructive the craving for power can be.

In the films, though, he becomes a friend to Merry and Pippin. He teaches them how to fight, and laughs when the two hobbits doggy pile him. It’s only one scene, but it gives us a relationship. When Boromir is later overwhelmed by orcs, it isn’t as punishment for his actions - instead, he redeems himself. He races to the defense of Merry and Pippin, giving his life for them. His death is that much more tragic because of his connection with the two. When they see him fall, he isn’t just their companion - he’s a good friend, who once laughed with them and ultimately died for them.

Aragorn & Boromir

Boromir also has a connection with Aragorn. The sub plot between the pair, which focuses on Aragorn’s mistrust in Gondor and Boromir’s belief in Gondor, is set up before the Merry and Pippin arc, beginning when Boromir drops the fragments of Isildur’s sword to the ground. His comment that these shards are no more than the remains of a broken sword underscores his lack of faith in Gondor needing a king - a point of tension between him, and the man who could be king if he cared to. 

Boromir is an idealist, seeing the best in Gondor and loving it to an almost blind degree. Aragorn, by contrast, seems to care more for the elves than his “own” people. He leads the party towards Lothlorion, home of the elves, but makes a point of avoiding Gondor. He seems to hate Gondor, connecting it with the failure of his ancestor, Isildur; like Aragorn’s antecedent, Gondor is weak. When Aragorn refers to Gondor, he calls it “your city,” to Boromir, rather than theirs.

Following the capture of Merry and Pippin, and the seeming conclusion of their arc, Aragorn swoops in to fight off Boromir’s assailants. Though Aragorn wins, Boromir is fatally wounded. He dies, but not before regarding Aragorn with the respect he would to a king. Aragorn, in turn, seems to have hope for Gondor, promising to do what he can for their people. 

This arc enhances Aragorn’s own character arc in accepting not only Gondor, but his role as it’s king. Boromir is a metaphor and embodiment of Gondor, and Aragorn’s feelings towards him are actually the feelings Aragorn has towards Gondor itself. His relationship with Boromir allows him to verbalize his inner conflict about his homeland, and who he is. In the end, he accepts Boromir as his fellow - along with accepting the city as his. 

He hasn’t accepted his role as king yet, but Boromir’s relationship with him has set him in the right direction.

Gimli & Legolas

Though the relationship between Gimli and Legolas has little effect on the main plot, it adds both humour and character development to the story. Initially, being a dwarf and an elf, the pair are resentful towards one another. Gimli more or less joins the fellowship to one up Legolas, and the two aren’t above making snide remarks towards one another. 

After Gimli’s own experience in Lothlorion, though, when the dwarf realizes that elves can be both kind and beautiful, the dwarf is able to soften towards his companion. Their enmity transitions into a rivalry - they aren’t friends, but they make battles fun by beginning a competition where they try to kill more orcs than the other. As they fight in more battles together, and swap kill numbers at the end of each fight, they develop an actual friendship (in the extended edition of the third film, they even end up drinking together). Their relationship is light hearted, but it adds depth to the story, and makes the audience want to root for the pair.

Both characters are enjoyable on their own, but together they are that much easier to love.

Frodo & Sam

In the books, Sam is Frodo’s gardener and servant. In the movies, he is Frodo’s best friend. While there is still a master and servant relationship between the two, with Sam addressing his friend as “Mr. Frodo,” the term comes to feel more habitual than formal. At the start of the film, the hobbits share drinks. Frodo pushes Sam into his crush, Rosie, and gives Sam assurance when he’s fretting over the competition he has for her affections. 

When Sam eavesdrops on the conversation between Frodo and Gandalf, the wizard decides Sam will pay for his listening in by accompanying Frodo to Bree. On their journey, Sam panics at one point when he thinks he’s lost Frodo. He explains that Gandalf made him promise he wouldn’t “lose” Frodo. 

Even when he’s no longer obligated to follow, Sam insists on joining the fellowship. Elrond notes there is no separating them, secret meeting or not. Later, towards the end of the story, Sam tries to comfort Frodo, citing his promise to look after his master. When the fellowship splits, Sam chases after Frodo. Frodo can go alone, but Sam is coming with him. He repeats the line that is the crux of his bond: he made a promise to Gandalf not to lose Frodo, and he’s going to keep it.

Sam stays with Frodo to the end, even coming back after being sent away at best (and betrayed at worst) by his master in the final movie. While their bond is implicit, the repeated promise, and the ups and downs their relationship takes, adds another layer to the story. Destroying the ring is challenging - not only because of it’s effect on Frodo’s health, but because of how it tests his friendship with someone who proves to be more loyal than most. 

The bond Frodo has with Sam is also integral to the plot. After all, if it weren’t for Sam, Frodo would have been killed. With such a role, Sam needed to be more than a dedicated servant. He needed to be a loyal friend, capable of being tested and still willing to fight for their friendship.

In Conclusion

The set up of these sub plots allows the rest of the movies to be deeper too. While it goes without saying that establishing a connection between Frodo and Sam would improve their shared story arc, other sub plots are revived. 

The connection Boromir shares with Merry and Pippin, for example, becomes integral to Pippin’s own arc. With Merry removed from his side, Pippin is then influenced by none other than Boromir, when guilt over his death pushes Pippin to pledge himself to the service of Boromir’s father, Denethor. 

Gimli and Legolas go on to have journeys together, and start another body count contest in the third film (where an elephant “still only counts as one” when Legolas dispatches it).

New sub plots are also introduced, such as the bitterness between Faramir and Denethor, but most of the plots are established in the first movie. The relationships between characters make the story matter, and carry it through; the groundwork laid by these bonds even sparks new storylines. Even after his death, Boromir’s relationship with Pippin influences his actions. 

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