#from the second he looks over at elrond before he asks 'whose hands'

[peregrintook]

“.... Fetch your feathery shirts. Let's start walking.”

#trop #rop #tropedit #ropedit #tropgifs #ropgifs #rings of power #lotr on prime #elrond #durin #mine #my gifs #I'm SO normal about them i SWEAR #the way it's obvious on durin's face #from the second he looks over at elrond before he asks 'whose hands' #SO OBVIOUS #but elrond doesn't see it because he's feeling too guilty #for staying away so long and missing so much of Durin's life #and for his role in gil and brimbo's plan to get mithril #even if he didn't know it yet #he feels so terrible for all of it he still doubts that durin would be willing to do this for him #meanwhile durin is like #I'm personally going to dig up every ounce of mithril in this mountain and give it to my friend #if that is what it takes to keep him alive and around

[tanoraqui]

excerpT Tuesday

Inspired by the excellent pieces @thelordofgifs has been sharing of their Fëanor/Nerdanel fic, I wrote a whole little scene of my very-slowly-written Finarfin Beats the Shit Out Of Morgoth fic! [not real title]

Unsurprisingly, the gathered forces of the last of the Noldor and their allies, armed and ready for a venture into the very realm of Discord, ended up waiting outside Angband’s fallen gates while engineers and scouts did their best to confirm that the entrance itself wouldn’t slay the next elf to set foot within it. Thus was war!

Finarfin stood easily. His way forward was clear. He watched from across the rallying-ground as Elwing and Eärendil’s sons, who wished to join the main thrust of the attack, argued with Gil-Galad, Galadriel and Maglor, all briefly united in strident opposition to that wish. It was the most genuinely animated that Finarfin had seen Maglor on this cursed shore.

“How is the sword?” asked Celebrimbor, who, like his last living uncles, had invited himself unasked into Finarfin’s vanguard. For this final battle, for the first time that Finarfin had seen, he wore plate and surcoat emblazoned with the eight-pointed star. In addition to his own ruby-hilted greatsword, he bore half a dozen throwing knives, narrow blades all marked with Curufin’s personal crest.

He also retained a distinctly proprietary interest in the craft of his own hands, even when it had been a collaborative project and already handed off to its proper wielder. Finarfin had made his own sword in Aman, the first he’d ever owned, after he woke one night from pain like claws in his chest and knew his firstborn dead. Scant years after knowing, in his and Eärwen’s hearts if nothing else, their second- and thirdborns dead, and Fingolfin at their heels, and countless others. He had consulted philosophies on the nature of Ainur, on the nature of Discord and its defiance, and—with no clear thought of when he’d use it, only that it was this or fade from grief—he’d forged a blade honed for the specific purpose of slaying Melkor.

When he’d arrived in Middle Earth at last, after countless more wrenching deaths and a Silmaril-flash of hope, he’d shown it to Celebrimbor, who was much grown from the restless octogenarian Finarfin remembered. Fëanor’s grandson had held it for a few moments, murmuring, “Oh…oh!”; interrogated him on its making for an hour; then vanished. They’d repeated this interaction several times over the next decades, until one day Celebrimbor, along with a dwarf and man whose names Finarfin never learned but who bore the signs of master crafters, presented him with a new sword. It was called Anan-Noldoron, Justice of the Noldor, he was informed in no uncertain terms; and it would achieve his aims, if anything could.

He drew it now, in the sunlight before Morgoth’s cracked-open gates. Anan-Noldoron shone like flame in the rays of Laurelin’s legacy. Its balance was perfect. It was long, but Finarfin was tall. It brought some of the same peace and purity as the hospital tents, honed to a ruthless edge.

Celebrimbor took it unasked, tested its weight, and handed it back with a judicious nod. He hadn’t really outgrown his youthful restlessness.

Across the field, Elrond and Elros lost their argument, and were consigned to the forces who would stay outside, at the back of the forces waiting to catch the flushed prey. Galadriel thoroughly won hers; her young king, Gil-Galad, looked surprised to realize he’d agreed to stay with them.

(Finarfin knew his daughter followed him into strategy meetings for her own ambition and because she knew that he couldn’t bear to turn her away. She called him “Father” and he drank it in; she never addressed him with any formal title that diplomacy didn’t demand.)

The engineers declared themselves satisfied and all the scouts returned alive and unharmed.

Finarfin hadn’t resheathed his sword. He gestured, and Amarië raised her trumpet to sound the final advance.

Tagging anyone who is inspired to work on their own stubborn WIP!

#the silmarillion #finarfin #my fic #sometimes you are simply seized by the fatal noldorin need to kill a god

[thevalleyisjolly]

Some Celebrían headcanons:

She discovered a passion for architecture after travelling through Khazad-dûm, and maintained a lasting friendship with the Dwarven architects of Khazad-dûm until their kingdom fell in the Third Age.

Though she does not desire to rule any kingdoms, she can and will roll up her sleeves to take over when she feels things are not being done properly.  This can mean anything from taking over the kitchens when the stove dies in the middle of a feast, to completely overhauling Lindon’s emergency response system (her mother was exceedingly proud and more than a little smug for centuries afterwards).  She once said that though she might have small hands, they do more in an hour than the minds of the great in a year.

Compared to other Elves, her singing voice is considered breathy and not very strong, but she does have a talent for arranging music.  No one is quite sure how she managed to arrange a Númenorean war march into a harp concerto that retained the essence of its rousing spirit, but she did.

She likes flowers as much as the next Elf, but could not tell you any of their names or properties if she tried.  It took her about fifty years to realize that the pretty posies being left every so often on the windowsill of her guest-room in Imladris meant that she had a secret admirer, and it was only because her father caught a glimpse of one bouquet, raised an eyebrow, and was eventually persuaded to explain Iathrim flower language to her.

She’s an excellent baker, and once recreated Menegroth in gingerbread for her parents’ 1000th wedding anniversary.

Her first impression of Elrond was that he was oddly shy for an Elf-lord of such reputation, since he kept blushing and looking at his feet whenever she glanced in his direction.  Then on a tour of Imladris, he began talking about his vision for what the hidden valley could become and she instantly recognized a city planner when she saw one.  They spent the next three days engrossed in a conversation about landscape design and civic infrastructure and structural engineering, and continued to exchange letters debating their ideas for the rest of the Second Age.

Her favourite colours are lilac and orange.  Those are difficult colours to make work together, but she pulls it off. 

Her one youthful rebellion was to learn Exilic Quenya, which irritated both her father (for obvious reasons) and her mother (whose cradle-tongue was Valinorean Quenya).  Both of them blamed Celebrimbor, although his only part in it was to speak it with her occasionally as practice, until he found it expedient to go and visit Narvi for several years.

Celebrimbor was her favourite cousin, and not just by default.  He once made her a fine amber and gold filigree necklace as a birthday present, which she has kept all her life and still wears.  She considers it his finest work.

Although generally a sociable and amiable person, she can nurse a grudge forever if she sets her mind to it.  She never quite forgave Amroth for condescending to her when she asked about the construction of the tree flets in Lórien, and she spent a full thousand years being coolly polite to Erestor because she heard him make an inconsiderate jape about Dwarves once. 

Since childhood, she has been very good at climbing and loves heights.  Some of her earliest memories are of trying to clamber up her father (so tall and strong, just like a great big tree!) before he swung her up onto his shoulders and let her ride, giggling, upon them as he went about his day showing off his daughter to everyone within range.

She is very much a morning person while Elrond is a night person.  Adjusting to each other’s rhythms at first took some time and a few spats, but they made for the perfect tag-team once the twins were born.

Whatever the opposite of a green thumb is, Celebrían has it.  Even the hardiest, most stubborn weeds wither under her ministrations.  However, she is quite good at cultivating fungi, and wrote a book of mushroom recipes.  When Bilbo Baggins discovered that book in the library at Rivendell centuries later, he named her the most excellent queen among Elves, wrote an effusive ode to her wisdom, and copied down the recipes for his own collection which passed down to Frodo and then Sam.  It is said in Shire-lore that when the King and Queen came to the Brandywine Bridge, the famous Samwise Gardner prepared a proper Hobbit meal for them himself and the Queen wept when the centrepiece mushroom dish was placed before her, and that is why the dish was known ever after in the Shire as “Queen’s mushrooms.”  Other Shire scholars argued that the dish was already known as such because Old Mad Baggins had gotten it from an Elvish queen, a viewpoint which gained considerable support after Fíriel Fairbairn discovered a loose scrap of parchment covered in thin, spidery handwriting among her grandfather’s papers, which appeared to be an early draft of an ode to a wise Faerie queen by the infamous Bilbo Baggins.  Seeing as the ode was never formally published however, the provenance remains in vicious dispute among Shire scholars to this day.

While Ost-in-Edhil was her childhood home, Khazad-dûm the great inspiration of her life, and Imladris the home she and Elrond built together, her favourite place she ever lived in was Dol Amroth, by the sea.  It wasn’t Sea-longing, like her parents feared.  She just liked living on the coast.

Healing comes slowly, even in Valinor, but it does come.  She takes long walks beneath the trees with her uncle Finrod, speaking gently of the wondrous things they’ve seen and the joyous adventures they’ve had in Middle-earth.  She sits by her grandfather Finarfin’s right hand as he holds court, and finds laughter again hearing him comment in her mind about some of the more banal or petty petitions.  When the days dawn sad and grey, she goes to visit a white tower by the sea where her mother-in-law lives and understands quite a lot about despair and wounds that struggle to heal.  She sits in silence at the top of the tower, looking out onto the Sundering Seas and feeling the cold sea breeze against her face, harsh and briny and alive alive alive.  Then she goes down and helps Elwing with the chores, because she was raised properly with manners and doing the dishes, too, is living.

She starts designing their house on Tol Eressëa some decades before the Last Ship sets sail, but does not break ground until Elrond arrives.  Mostly so that they can build it together, but also partly because he is sure to have strong opinions on the plumbing and they have not had the chance to really debate with each other since the boys were born. 

#lotr #celebrian #long post

[fandomficsnstuff]

Unexpected Company - 2

(Warnings: None really)

For the words in bold, if you want to know 100% what they mean, here’s the website I use, some of the words may have more than one meaning so I suggest picking one that fits best with the entire sentence: https://www.thuum.org/translator.php

Notes: This is platonic only! It is a prequel to A Chance Encounter but can be read alone.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ruth followed behind Elrond and Gandalf, in front of Thorin who eyed her with suspicion, unlike the other elves, she wasn’t dressed for a fine dinner. She was dressed in the same armor she wore when he saw her the first time, atop that horrifying steed with it’s blood red eyes piercing his soul and chilling his blood whenever it looked at him. The black armor appeared to be made mostly out of leather, yet it didn’t crease like leather did when she walked, it was smooth as fabric, dark as night with a strange symbol on her chest, a bird with it’s wings stretched out over it, nearly touching a circle, the entire image itself being a circle with the round wings. Her boots matched her armor, they had spots of dirt on them but she had clearly cleaned the underside of them to not track dirt all over Rivendell, her hands bore fingerless gloves and a single white ring that appeared to be carved from bone with a wolf’s head, her entire body except her fingers and from her chin and up was covered in the soft-looking armor, it was almost like a second skin if not for the cape and small ‘skirt’ around her hips that reached barely the middle of her thighs.

She sat down on Gandalf’s right side, almost in front of Elrond. She got out a small journal once they began to eat, scribbling away on the pages, leaving her food untouched as they ate and talked, and Thorin noticed it, narrowing her eyes at her with suspicion. Sure, it wasn’t the most… ‘meaty’ food, but it was food. What kind of person doesn’t eat? And it seemed Gandalf noticed as well, gently nudging her with his elbow, catching her attention as he finished chewing “not hungry, my dear?” he asked, Ruth glancing at her food, cheeks turning a dusty shade of pink as she looked at Elrond, who was smiling softly at her “you know I hunted this morning, why do you keep putting food out for me on such occasions when you know I’ve already hunted, Elrond?” Ruth asked with indifference, the elven lord smiling softly at her once more “in the case you get hungry again, I’m not keen on my guests going hungry” he stated softly, glancing at Thorin who didn’t miss the double meaning behind his words. Ruth nodded and sighed softly “very kind of you, thank you” she stated softly, gently bowing her head, Elrond bowing it in return, saying a single word in elvish, Ruth giving him a soft smile before going back to writing in her journal as they talked of the swords they had recently acquired, Ruth’s eyes on the dwarves, a grin on her lips as they sang and enjoyed themselves, Ruth following along with the song of some inn, enjoying the upbeat atmosphere.

--------------------------------------------

Ruth gently knocked on the door to the room she knew all the dwarves were staying in, their laughter and songs stopped and soon the door opened, revealing Ruth who was carrying a large basket with all kinds of cooked and prepared meat. She was quickly invited inside and she laughed at their eagerness “I figured since none of you ate much at the dinner that you preferred meat, I hunted these myself” she announced softly, giving the large basket to the largest of the dwarves whose beard was braided in a ring, a smile on her lips at the sight. She smiled as a footless dwarf walked over to her, dressed far more fancy than the others and Ruth tilted her head at him. “Thank you, they might not say it but-”

“No need” Ruth stated in a casually, the small dwarf smiling and extending his hand, which Ruth shook briefly “Bilbo Baggins, at your service” he briefly bowed his head and Ruth chuckled “Ruth Telvanni, at yours” she bowed her head in return, Bilbo smiling at her before gesturing to the large fire they had made “do you perhaps want to join us?” he asked softly, Ruth taken aback despite almost lighting up at the offer “uh… I’m not sure I-... you know what? I would love to, thank you Mr. Baggins” Ruth bowed her head again, deciding to give small-talk and the new company a chance. Bilbo led her towards the others and once again they went quiet, Ruth awkwardly smiling at them, gesturing to an empty spot “can I sit?” she asked softly, the dwarves all exchanging glances that all led back to the half-empty basket, which led them to nod, Ruth sitting down. “So, Ruth, tell us a little about yourself” a dwarf with blonde hair asked with a small smirk, Ruth awkwardly looking down as she cleared her throat before looking back up again “well uh… I’m not from around here” she stated softly, awkwardly glancing at Bilbo and his feet, cheeks growing red at the uncomfortable small-talk she was a part of now “actually I was surprised that elves and dwarves look they way they do here” Ruth stated and gestured to Bilbo’s feet, the man frowning at his feet “I’m not a dwarf” he stated with confusion, Ruth blushing “y-you’re not??”

“No, I’m a Hobbit.”

“A Hobbit? What’s a Hobbit?”

“Me.”

“I’m sorry we-.. don’t have Hobbits where I’m from, I’m sorry” Ruth spoke softly, Bilbo frowning as though her explanation only made him more confused, as did the rest of the company she was in. “And where are you from, then?” Thorin asked gruffly, Ruth narrowing her eyes at him before sighing and nodding softly “Tamriel. I grew up on the island of Solstheim, though I’m an Imperial. I was taken in by a Telvanni mage when I was around four” she stated briefly, Thorin raising an eyebrow at her as though he was subtly telling her he was aware of her lying, which she wasn’t. “Well if you didn’t want an answer, you shouldn’t have asked” Ruth snapped annoyed, the two of them staring each other down until an older dwarf with white hair and beard cleared his throat “well, what about your parents?”

“No clue, my master never bothered to look for them” Ruth stated casually, the old dwarf frowning “your master?” he asked with concern, Ruth nodding “yes, my master Neloth. Though he’s my master only in title” Ruth assured him, seeing him nod with a more relaxed smile. “That’s good to hear. My name is Balin, this is Dwalin and this is Filí and Kilí, Oin and Gloin. Over there we have Dori, Nori and Ori, next to them is Bifur and Bofur and lastly we have Bombur” Balin pointed to each dwarf as he said their named, Ruth bowing her head once he was done, smiling at them “a pleasure to meet you all” she stated softly, smiling at them, seeing Filí smile back at her with a bigger grin than the others. “So, what’s Solstheim like?” Bilbo politely asked, a smile on Ruth’s lips as she chuckled, this being a small-talk topic she was comfortable with “ashy. It’s next to a large volcano which erupted decades ago, the land is still covered with ashes, but there are some snowy parts. One quickly learns how to avoid the ash-storms. But other than that, it was quiet for a while, not a whole lot going on but I loved to explore the old ruins on the island, my master used to scold me when I was younger because of how dangerous it was, he didn’t want to lose his most promising student” Ruth stated with amusement, Bilbo and most of the dwarves smiling as well. “What kind of ruins?” Filí asked, Ruth blushing as she cleared her throat and got a little more comfortable on the floor “uh, Dwemer ruins… they’re an ancient race of elves where I’m from, incredibly intelligent, without a doubt the most advanced race to ever walk Nirn, they made creatures of metal that still guard the ruins! They were so advanced that those metal creatures are still able to walk around, move without ever getting rusty, repair themselves and everything” Ruth explained with eagerness, seeing some of the dwarves on the edge of their seats, eager to hear more.

“Well? Go on then!” Ori said with excitement, Ruth giggling lightly as she nodded and crossed her legs as she faced them to be more comfortable. “The ruins are these beautiful underground structures, far beneath the earth! Metal and stone carved together in beautiful patterns, almost everything is made of stone or metal. The seats, tables, beds, the stairs are carved from the stone that’s also the floor, metal thrown about after centuries of earthquakes and the passing of time. It’s one of the most beautiful sights that I’ve ever seen. There’s also an underground city, entirely of dwemer make, giant glowing mushrooms casting a light blue glow over everything, raw Aetherium ore running through the ground like small rivers. Aetherium is the most rare and powerful ore there is, using any pickaxe will never yield any reward, yet the dwemer had a special way of harvesting it, a way that is lost to everyone now since they disappeared. Small houses are all strewn about the giant underground cavern and in the middle of everything… a city, a real, large city! A glowing orb hangs over it, it’s called the ‘sun beneath the earth’, it casts a bright yet dull orange glow, covering almost the entire cavern! Ebony ore also runs through the ground, popping up here and there for one to mine, their metal creatures walk around the place with purpose, attacking any intruder! The only thing that dulls the beauty of it are the Falmer and how they’ve mixed it with their own structures…”

“What are they?”

“They were once elves, but now they’re almost like another race. They were once called Snow Elves, the most beautiful out of all the elves, pure white skin and hair, pale eyes… now what’s left of them has become the Falmer, horrid creatures… nothing like the Snow Elves I met-”

“You met other elves?”

“Of course, Skyrim is flooded with them! Jarl Balgruuf has a Dunmer as his guard and housecarl, the man selling horses outside of Windhelm is a High Elf as well as his wife, Windhelm has a section called the Gray Quarters where the Dunmer lives. Solstheim is mainly populated by Dunmer, I think that besides myself and the Skaal there’s only a handful of humans, not many humans choose to live on the island since it’s a freezing, ash-filled island under the nordic governing” Ruth stated with a shrug, smiling at the small men. “So, you’ve traveled a lot?”

“Absolutely, I’ll admit it’s mostly been doing other people’s work but I love the exploration I get out of it. I’ve killed giants, mammoths, trolls-”

“Could have used you not too long ago” Kilí stated jokingly, a few of the dwarves chuckling, Ruth smirking “should have just sent a letter! Especially if it’s dragons” Ruth added the last bit with a small chuckle, expecting the company to laugh but instead it grew deadly silent, making the young woman frown. “I-.. did I say something wrong?...”

“You’ve-... killed a dragon?” Bilbo asked confused, frowning as he looked at her with slightly narrowed eyes, Ruth shrugging lightly, clearing her throat awkwardly “uh… a few.. yeah-”

“How many?”

“Excuse me?”

“How many dragons have you slain?” Thorin asked again more sternly, Ruth narrowing her eyes at him before shrugging shyly. “I lost count… why?” she asked nervously, the company all exchanging glances, Bilbo being the only one to speak up “how? How did you kill a dragon?” he asked softly, as though there was a motive behind his questions but he wasn’t sure if he should reveal what it was. “I-.. killed it? I just-... you know, an arrow in the eye or in the heart or-.. something…” Ruth muttered, the dwarves murmuring amongst themselves until the tallest one spoke up, Dwalin. “She’s lyin’-” he was cut off when Ruth pulled out a dagger made entirely of some sort of bone with a black metal handle and shaft, twirling it effortlessly between her fingers before holding it up so the flames lit up the features “it’s made from dragonbone” she stated with a slight glare “I’m many things, but not a liar” she muttered, twirling the knife once more before gently handing it to Balin who examined it, his eyes wide in shock as he looked up at his company before handing the dagger back to her “she’s right… it’s bone… stronger bone than any I’ve ever seen, it has to be from a dragon” he murmured, the company once again growing silent as they all stared at Ruth, making her scoff lightly before standing up “told you I wasn’t lying… by Sithis, I offer food and is insulted” she murmured and got up, leaving without another word. Bilbo sighed at the others before standing up and hurrying after her “they didn’t mean it-”

“Perhaps, but perhaps they ought to learn to think before they speak, I will be called many things but never a liar” Ruth muttered bitterly as she kept going, Bilbo sighing as he picked up the pace once more to keep up with her, for a short woman, her legs took surprisingly long steps. “Gandalf said we’d meet someone who could kill a dragon” he called out after her, a few steps behind her as he stopped, seeing the red haired woman stop as well, Bilbo panting a little after practically running after her. “He said we’d need an assassin, someone who had experience with dragon-slaying, who would know what to do and how to do it… is that you?” Ruth sighed softly at his question, turning around to look at him “what did he call it? The dragon-slayer?”

“Something with ‘Kin’-”

“Dovahkiin?”

“Yes!... Is that you…?” Bilbo asked again and Ruth sighed, running a hand over her face in frustration before giving a subtle nod. “He said you’d join us… that you- you were the only one who could make sure it stayed dead” Bilbo added and Ruth sighed, walking a few steps towards him, eyeing him, studying the brave little face he put on. “I might join you…”

“Thank you-”

“If we can all agree on something. First; if you want to know anything about me, ask me and not Gandalf. Second; I get to talk to the dragon first, without anyone there to interrupt everything-”

“What-”

“And third; if I say no to a question, it means ‘no’. Don’t go behind my back and ask Gandalf or try to go through my things or figure out a way to get an answer, I have the right to privacy. I’m willing to talk about many things but if I say no, it means I will not change my mind and the second any of them disrespects that, I will leave, let you all be burned by the dovah” Ruth stated harshly, Bilbo nodding softly with a frown “if all of them can agree on that, I will join you, though I think they’ll need some convincing. If they act polite, perhaps I’ll ask to join you… now if there’s no further questions, I need to hunt.”

“Hunt? It’s nearly midnight-”

“Exactly” Ruth muttered before walking off, Bilbo looking at her as she walked away before turning around and walking back to the company to try and begin to convince them.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It was morning when Ruth heard a knock on the door, a frown on her brows as no one bothered her this early in the morning when she hunted the night before. She got up from her bed and walked over, finding Bilbo, her lips stretching into a smile and she stepped aside, letting him in. As Ruth closed the door, Bilbo noticed a large bruise on her face, a frown forming on his brows and he gestured to it, making Ruth reach up a hand and graze it before smiling at him “nothing to worry about, hunting accident” she stated softly, walking over to her bed and sitting down, Bilbo awkwardly walking over, looking around the bare room. “How long have you been here?”

“About two years.”

“Two-.. a-and you-... never thought to decorate the room or-... does Lord Elrond not allow it?”

“He does, I’m just not used to-... I guess, getting comfortable, though I have many of my materials here such as dragonbones. When I’m home I’m always on the move, I’ve rarely slept a full fortnight in any of my houses except my farm” Ruth admitted, Bilbo blinking in shock “I’m sorry, ‘any’ of your houses? You have more than one?”

“I built three of them myself. The other ones are in the cities where I’ve helped the jarls and been made Thane” Ruth stated with a small shrug, Bilbo nodding once, awkwardly looking down with a small frown, making Ruth smirk at him “I don’t use any of them, I built them for someone but-... they’re gone. Now I use them as small stops in between my journeys, I rent them to my housecarls so they can live peacefully, if that’s what they choose” Ruth stated with a shrug, Bilbo was unable to hide his small smile at that. “You’ve got all these houses, and you’ve given them away?”

“Housecarls do a great service, they’re sworn to me, I want them to have a place of their own, where they can rest… the biggest problem was always decorating though” Ruth added the last bit in a joking tone before standing up “have you talked with your friends?” Bilbo nodded, following Ruth out of her bedroom, leading her down some steps towards the courtyard. “I have, actually. Thorin is willing to speak with you” Bilbo announced, Ruth nodding with a small smirk “‘willing to speak to me’... let me guess, he’s some sort of noble?”

“King, actually.”

“Hm, figures” Ruth mumbled, Bilbo frowning at her, making her smirk and lean down, lowering her voice as she spoke in a joking tone “I’ve met enough royals to know they’re usually very arrogant and think everyone is at their mercy” she whispered jokingly, giving Bilbo a wink before coming to a halt when she saw the naked men jump into the water fountain, laughing and having fun. Bilbo’s cheeks darkened and when he looked up at Ruth she just shook her head with amusement. “Just like the Companions…” she murmured, walking down the steps, meeting Elrond and his son on the way. She passed the two with amusement, heading straight for the men, giving a quick whistle that made them all turn around, wide eyes staring at her as she looked unfazed. “Where can I find Thorin?”

“Are you going to join us?”

“In e saw Thorin, his hands folded behind his back as he looked over the landscape in a very majestic way. “Brooding, are we?” Ruth asked jokingly, the fountain or on your journey?” Ruth asked with amusement, Filí blushing a bright beet red, making Ruth chuckle as she followed Dwalin’s finger, going in the direction he had pointed her in. As she walked down the small steps, shThorin turning to see who had spoken, his eyes fixed on the bruise on her cheek, making her shrug as she walked up to stand beside him “hunting accident” she explained, Thorin turning to look back out over the landscape “you must not be a very good hunter then…”

“Ouch, well it is harder when they actually fight back” Ruth stated with a smirk, watching him frown ever so slightly at her, making her chuckle. “I was wondering if perhaps you’d want someone with actual dragon experience on this journey? Of course, if you don’t want a woman on your team you can just try your hand at it, but if you want to do it properly, I suggest you accept my offer” Ruth stated with a shrug, Thorin looking at her with confusion, unsure if he should be offended or annoyed, a mix in between that almost made Ruth laugh. “So, what do you say? Will you hire an assassin that is the best in not one, but two worlds?” she asked confidently, Thorin glaring lightly at her “you’re very confident-”

“I have every reason to be. Give me my contract, and I’ll do it, with only one exception” Ruth stated with a frown, Thorin raising a single brow at her, making her scoff “I get to talk to the dragon first-”

“Talk?!”

“Yes, talk. You know, a conversation?”

“I know what ‘talk’ means!”

“Really? You’re not doing it well. Listen, give me this contract and I swear on the Night Mother, it will be done… if I am allowed my one condition besides the rules I told Bilbo. Gandalf was right when he told you of me, and I have every reason to be as confident as I am, he will be far from my first dragon kill, and he won’t be the last” Ruth stated in a softer voice, looking him up and down before walking away “you have until dawn to decide, preferably an hour before the sun rises” she called out, walking past the others who were getting dressed and dry from their wash in the water fountain, most of them blushing and covering themselves as she strode by, not even looking at them.

-----------------------

Tags:

@starwarsloverpizza

#Company of Oakenshield x Ruth Telvanni #The Hobbit #LOTR #Skyrim fic #The Hobbit Fic #Unexpected Company #A Chance Encounter

[deadqueernoldor]

Gil-Galad & Maglor

Prompt / trope: “Gil-galad meeting beach hermit Maglor pls”

Word count / requested: 1.6k / yes

Warnings: none

At first glance he had believed him to be one of the edain.

Clothed in an ensemble of thin cloth and mainly leather of animals he no doubt had killed himself, it had been easy to disregard the lone figure sitting reclined against a large piece of driftwood as a weary traveller.

Then he had taken a double take, a second careful look. He had noticed the figure’s lack of a mount, or wares to sell. It was no merchant.

Thinking it was one who had lost his way Gil-Galad had pushed his stallion closer to offer directions to the nearest edain settlement. Glinting in the weak sunlight that fought its way through the thick clouds overhead was a dagger in the sand beside the wayfarer.

He halted his horse. He was alone, and no doubt his personal guards would run like headless chickens at finding their high king missing from his tent this early in the day. His trusted minstrel-turned-herald would calm them with reassurance. As soon as Gil-Galad would be returned to camp Elrond would give him looks only he seemed to have perfected over time - ones so silent, yet screaming of ‘you scold and discipline me for it yet you do it yourself’.

It was something he would worry about later.

With keen eyes did he take the traveller in again. Oh, Elrond would have a field day with his loud looks. There was nought of the splendour and strength of the Noldo left in Maglor which lore masters wrote of. The shoulders were hunched instead of proud and set.

The most startling difference though, one he had only ever heard of from those who had been around longer than he had been in the first age, was his hair.

Gil-Galad had heard of elves whose hair lost colour until it turned grey. Thralls had grey streaks which faded back into colour with time and healing. Gwindor had been one he had read of who’d had fistfuls of grey in his brown hair when he had escaped Angband. Many had gained grey strands after they lost a family member. Another had been Círdan. He had the silver crown of the Teleri by nature, but slim strands and single hairs of dull grey had appeared in the wake of the third kinslaying and the war of wrath. By now they had mostly regained their healthy tone.

There was a thin line between silver and grey, and many elves did not know the difference unless they had come across elderly edain.

Gil-Galad was lucky he had not turned grey yet, and he did not plan to.

But that was not something you plan, because he doubted someone as proud as Maglor would willingly abandon his black colouring for dull grey. Maedhros, the one time Gil-Galad had set eyes on the tall ellon when he had accompanied father on a diplomatic visit, had had a couple of wisps of grey at his temples.

The once-black hair of Maglor, now as he sat at a beach four days south of Mithlond, rivalled only the storm clouds in drabness as they gathered above their heads.

Gil-Galad assumed it had been a quick process. Last Elrond had seen Maglor, he’d had a full head of hair as black as starless night. That had only been a handful of centuries ago. Knowing what fate weighted on the hunched shoulders of the ellon before him, it made sense.

Against his heart and every instinct in his body, he urged his stallion to take a couple of steps towards the once so mighty. He kept his distance, still, remembering that Maglor was not only famed for fierceness and might in battle, but also in Songs of power.

“Have you lost your way,” he asked at last. The sky had turned darker despite daytime approaching. The air smelt of sea and sand and rain.

Maglor did not flinch at the suddenness of his voice which cut through the symphony of waves and wind like a knife through a soft piece of butter. “Many moons ago,” was the answer. “What cares one traveller for the reprieve of another?”

He had not actually seen Gil-Galad, then, or decided to ignore his status.

“I care for all strangers this close to the havens. I would be a terrible lord indeed if I disregarded travellers like beasts.”

The Ellon looked over his shoulders at last. His eyes widened, and a fey light flashed in his eyes. Gil-Galad kept his shoulders proud and back straight. They simply looked at each other. While he himself let his eyes roam freely and without shame, Maglor’s gaze turned iron-cold and guarded the longer neither averted their eyes. Many times did his grey eyes flit to Gil-Galad’s sword which hung strapped to his side.

He was keenly aware of the dagger beside Maglor, but the ellon did not make for it. Neither did he try and spook his mount, or attack Gil-Galad with bare hands. He merely turned back to face the waves. “You will find that there is not much difference between them.”

He fought down a bitter remark about how animals rarely if ever slew their own kind, much less out of greed. Pity won as his eyes stayed on the defeated form of a former prince regent, former lord, former family.

“Wild animals are less pleasant to find and be close to.”

“I will take it as a compliment rather than an insult to my appearance, your majesty.”

So he had recognised Gil-Galad, and his station. “How fare you?” Stilted conversation was something he was practiced in.

“As well as can be and better than expected with the blood in my veins and name to my face.” A harsh breeze whirled around them, kicking up sand and picking up their hair to coax it into a dance only the weightless could dance. “I would offer refreshments or rations but I’m afraid I have little to show for, pardon me.”

He sounded so cynic.

Had he ever had the bitterness on his tongue or was that a new development, he wondered. Those whose lips Maglor’s name left spoke of a monster, of a wraith killing their kin in the night and singing hymns to spilled blood. None spoke of a temperamental but kind and fair ellon like Elrond sometimes did, or a once so soft-voiced performer like Celebrimbor had once. And none spoke of a bitterness set in dull grey hair and hunched shoulders.

He regretted the question as soon as it left his mouth. “Do minstrels not use harps anymore?”

A laugh, cold and bitter like the grey-blue sea before them and the dark grey clouds above them, echoed at the lonely beach.

“What use is a harp other than baggage and burden if one can neither hold nor play?” For the first time the stories told of the fate which had befallen the last sons of Fëanor entered his mind. One in anguish leapt into fire, one in anguish threw his gem into the sea never to be seen again. It was said they both had burned.

Gil-Galad had believed it a mistake, a slip-up in the passing of hearsay from mouth to mouth, but seeing the right hand of the ellon left no doubt that he, too, had burned. Not like his brother, not with his whole body - but burn he did.

The flesh was wrapped with a small cloth of the same material as his shirt. It hid the palm for the most part. His fingers were exposed to air and sand and elements and Gil-Galad fought down the rising bile at the necrotic digits. Black as starless night, much like his hair had once been. The fingers were curled into the palm in a way that seemed like it was impossible for Maglor to move them.

There were no words of comfort he could offer, and he wished not to. One who killed kin with such vigour did not deserve pity for a doom of his own making. “You should find new bandages,” he said instead.

“Why? I do not feel whatever befalls that hand. Perhaps if Findekáno was still here he could do me the favour of cutting it like he had done to my brother.” He sighed, wistfully and not cynical for once. “But alas, neither are here anymore. Perhaps it will fall off like a lizard’s tail. A bandage would be a hinderance. I will see what happens in time.”

“It will infect and spread illness.”

Another chuckle. This one sounded almost manic and Gil-Galad tightened his grip on the reins. It was not a pleasant noise to hear. The shudder which ran down his spine did not quell his unease. “You will find that there is no illness that may do more damage than what is already done to me by none other than myself.”

Before he could think of another reply, or question the absurd idea that a dead hand will simply fall off like a lizard’s tail, Maglor pushed himself up into standing. With his left hand he picked up the dagger. Gil-Galad stayed seated in the saddle. With a wavering smile - unfamiliar gesture on his dry lips - Maglor placed his charred hand on his chest and bowed his head. “May a star light your way, your majesty. Save travels.”

He turned, and walked further down the shore. His dull grey hair blended with the dab sky and grey sea until not even a small dot was left for Gil-Galad to follow.

Pulling the reins, he steered his stallion back to his camp.

#writing #ao3 #tolkien #headcanon #the silmarillion #silmarillion #maglor #gil galad #elrond #noldor #lord of the rings #lotr #drabble

[anaveragebibliophile]

All For Him

Young!Legolas x Thranduil x Wife!Reader 

Summary: Lord Elrond comes to Mirkwood to ask a favor of his oldest friend, Thranduil. However, the stoic, unyielding king isn’t as willing to follow through on the request because of the danger it will put his family in. 

Honestly, when you stumbled into your husband’s study that morning, you didn’t expect to feel so puzzled and flabbergasted. You didn’t anticipate Thran’s summons to be anything more than a request for information about Legolas (which you were happy to provide), a question regarding supper, or an idea for date night. So the last person you expected to see was Lord Elrond, the ruler of Rivendell, arguing with his trusted confidant and friend of many eons near the balcony. 

“Thran, what’s going on? Is everything alright?” you queried as you stepped into the room, incisors biting into your lower lip. 

“Queen (y/n), what a pleasant surprise,” Lord Elrond replied, consequently ending the argument, as he walked over to take your wrist and place a chaste, respectful kiss on the back of your hand. “My sincerest apologies for not seeking you out sooner.” 

“That’s quite alright, Elrond. You know that. I too wish I had known you were here earlier, but I unfortunately got sidelined. We took a short walk in the gardens this morning, all three of us, when Legolas ended up tripping on a very small rock. Thranduil and I tried to utilize the open--and what we thought was a safe--space as a way for him to grow more comfortable walking without our help. That strategy worked well for us. Until today. None of us had seen the ant-sized pebble roll over his tiny heel, making him lose his balance and unknowingly place his hand on a grounded bee’s stinger to stabilize himself.” 

“My goodness! How is he doing?”

“As well as can be expected. As he got himself up, he whimpered a little bit which isn’t normally like him. Even if he takes a tumble, he’ll usually still maintain his normal demeanor--sweet, timid, and smiley. But once we saw his palm start to swell up, we knew something was wrong. Thran rushed him to the healer, who was more than willing to keep an eye on him. Ever since then, he’s been given herbs to reduce the swelling and irritation at the site of the wound as well as water to keep him hydrated. Thank you for asking.”

Once you finished sharing that traumatizing experience, you looked over to your husband, whose face was devoid of color. Out of the two of you, he had been the most panicked over Legolas’ well-being. ‘Is he breathing?’ he’d asked. ‘What if he has a reaction to the toxins?’ he’d wondered. ‘What if we didn’t get him to the healer’s quarters in time?’ he’d said, voice cracking under all the emotions. Unfortunately, the man is an aggressive worrier who feels the most stress when he’s involved in a situation that’s completely out of his control. His son inadvertently getting stung by a bee? Yeah, definitely an event that drove your husband up a wall. 

“He’s doing fine, Thran. He and I cuddled in his rocking chair for about twenty minutes before he fell asleep. Before that though, he did want me to tell you that he loves you,” I said, trying to soothe him as best as I could given the circumstances. 

Even though Legolas is still quite young and not fluent in Sindarin yet, he does have a few sentences that he likes to use every now and again. His favorite though is ‘gi melin’, the Sindarian version of ‘I love you’. Anytime he’s reunited with you or Thran, he’ll smile so wide (with his one tooth showing itself off) and almost shout the words out (as if you won’t hear him clearly without that extra pizzaz). Both you and your husband agree that it’s probably the sweetest thing your little leaf has ever done (and Legolas is the epitome of sweet). 

“I love him too. More than life. Which is why I cannot allow Sauron’s ring and its company to enter Mirkwood. I am sorry, Elrond, but my answer is final. You will not be able to change my mind on the subject,” your husband said. 

“Sauron’s ring? So young Frodo is alive then, is he not? I heard about your daughter saving him from the hands of the Nazgûl but wasn’t sure of its veracity,” you mentioned.  

“Yes. He is recovered and wishes to continue on the quest to destroy the ring at Mount Doom. However, we are trying to avoid the company’s traveling in the open at night and are looking for places for them to seek refuge. I am trying to convince Thranduil to offer his kingdom, but it seems that that has been more difficult than I originally presumed. He fears for your safety and Legolas’ too much.” 

Speaking of Legolas, a soft knock on the door soon presented you with the little leaf in the arms of his nanny, Elva. 

“Legolas, darling, what are you doing up so early?” I asked, my lips perking up into a small grin. 

“Ada, Nana!” he blubbered, pointing to us. “Gi melin, gi melin, gi melin.”

“I apologize, Your Majesties. As you can see, the prince woke up a bit early from his nap. All of the maids attempted to keep him occupied in his chambers, but it was no use. He only wanted to see his nostairi (parents),” Elva explained. 

“That is quite alright, Elva. I have not seen enough of him today. Thank you for bringing him to us,” your husband responded, moving over as Legolas reached out for him, and, once in his arms, began snuggling into his chest. “Hello, iôn nîn. I hope you slept well.”

“How’s his hand, Thran?” 

Your husband took your question as an opportunity to lightly pull Legolas’ right arm out from where it was hiding in front of his stomach. “It is still a tad swollen but not too severe.” 

You let out a sigh of relief. “That’s good to hear.” 

“Nana, gi melin,” your son whispered behind your husband’s robes. 

“Oh, my sweet boy,” you responded, lightly running your fingers through his hair and down his back. 

Watching the interaction ensue, Thranduil softly smiled down at the two loves of his life. The first one--his wife--who taught him the beauty behind exuding kindness, positivity, and light. The one who guided him back to the meaning of life. And the second one--his son--who embodies all the genuine goodness that his wife bestowed upon him in their early years together. He’ll never know how he got so lucky, but that unknown answer will never prevent him from being grateful. 

“Ada, gi melin,” your son quietly hummed as he lifted himself up to kiss Thran’s cheek. 

“Iôn nîn, gi melin as well. Very much.”

But then the unthinkable happened. Your little leaf turned his body away from Thranduil to look at Elrond. “Gi melin!” he shouted, a smile creeping up his face (with his lone tooth on display). 

“Well, I cannot say I am not shocked,” the lord responded, just as confounded as the rest of the group. Although Legolas was a very empathetic elfling, the reality was that he only shared that sentence with two people: his parents. So his sharing that sentiment with another-- a person he doesn’t spend every day with, let alone see once a month--was very odd, yet exciting in its own way. In your mind, maybe this was a sign that he was feeling more comfortable around his parents’ trusted friends. Maybe he saw the camaraderie in the room and felt soothed by it. Maybe he was no longer experiencing such debilitating episodes of timidity.   

“It appears he has taken a strong liking to you, Elrond,” you responded. “And now that you know the depth of his affections, are you truly going to permit an evil, dark presence permeating Mirkwood’s halls?”

He pondered that question in no time at all before saying, “No. I will not be the one to put this child at risk. Perhaps Frodo and his company can stay a few extra days at Rivendell. It really is not a problem.” 

At that declaration, you and Thranduil humbly nodded (hiding your smiles as best you could because this was a serious matter after all). “Thank you, my friend. Your concern for our son is much appreciated and will never be forgotten.”

“I know you would have done the same for me had I been in your shoes. Legolas deserves to be safe and comforted in his own kingdom without his parents having to worry about whether the ring will wreak havoc and harm him in the process. Besides, I want to return to Mirkwood in a few months’ time and still be on his list of love.” And everyone, including Legolas, giggled at that. 

#Thranduil #thrandolas #thranduil x wife #thranduil x oc #thranduil x reader #the hobbit #LOTR #sauron #babylegolas #legolas #love #theHOBBIT #battle of the five armies #Desolation of Smaug #the fellowship of the ring #quest #frodo baggins #gandalf #lord elrond #family #parenthood

[mai-sau]

Prompt "give me attention" for kidnap family?

"haha, im gonna take it easy with prompts this time around, only a few hundred words -" cue spongebob title card "2.3k words later"

seriously tho thank you for the prompt!! (and sorry about the wait!) i had fun working on this one bc well i love any chance to write about this lil family of murderers and tiny bois :') hope u enjoy!!

Prompt: "Give me attention."

“Nelyo.”

“Nelyo.”

“Ne-”

Thump. Maedhros slammed his book shut. A puff of dust wheezed out from the crusty pages; Maglor could make out the swirl of particles flying about in the dim shafts of sunlight peeking into his brother’s study from windows that he was sure were clean at some point in their existence.

Said brother tossed a glare over to Maglor from the other side of his desk.

“You’re allowed to be here. Quietly.” Maedhros threw a pointed look towards the abandoned scroll in Maglor’s hands.

“But I’m so very lonely, Nelyo,” Maglor pouted, and dropped the scroll on the desk. The parchment rolled out towards Maedhros, whose face was fast approaching the same shade as his hair. “Besides, I’ve already taken care of all my correspondence for the day. Nothing much else to do, really, but seek out the company of my darling brother.”

“I’m older than you,” Maedhros grit out, rubbing his temple in terse little circles. Which one of them he was reminding Maglor couldn’t say.

“Only by a few years,” Maglor teased. He let the corners of his lip curl up - he was well aware this made him look like “a cat about to feast on the fattest saucer of milk it’s ever conned” according to his brother, and that was why he did it.

On top of that dusty old book, Maedhros’ fingers twitched. Got you.

“Come on, Nelyo,” he whined. “Give me attentiooon.”

Maedhros threw him a positively hateful look, but Maglor knew he wouldn’t throw him out just yet. By this point, Maglor liked to think he knew his brother well enough.

There were some things he didn’t, of course, and this was fine. When his brother would wake and traipse out to the courtyard in the dead of night, staring at the moon hungrily for hours and hours as if he would never glimpse its light amidst the pitch dark again; when one of the many elves around Amon Ereb would do something wrong - not when one of their craftsmen made the same excited little exclamation as Curvo used to, or hunters fletched their arrows just how Tyelko did, Maglor understood these, at least - but a request phrased too sweetly, an abrupt movement, a smile too wide, and Maedhros’ throat would tighten, his words clipped, before excusing himself to go lock himself in his room for an hour, or two, or three: these parts of his brother Maglor may never know.

But he knew much, or at least enough. A few months after they’d taken in the twins, Maglor had just finished mopping an explosion of jam on the dining floor and sweeping up the shards of what was once the hefty jar that contained it. He’d first gently let Elros know that if they wanted food, they need only ask; he’d then let him know that no, of course they wouldn’t cast him out for breaking the jam jar, with no small amount of tears or internal panic on either end of that conversation.

By the time Maglor slunk into Maedhros’ study that evening to go over reports from around the fortress, he was maybe a bit tired. When Maedhros told him to wait for just a few minutes while he wrapped something or other up, Maglor might’ve let slip a touch of petulance and no small amount of theatrics into his voice when he asked when his dear Nelyo could spare just a moment for his poor baby brother, simply wilting away from the neglect.

Maglor had frozen, fearful of what his second-most severe brother would have to say in response to - well, whining. He couldn’t even remember the last time he’d let himself do so. Oh, he’d been quite the brat in Valinor, and used to be quite proud of that fact, thank you. Each and every one of his brothers’ last nerves practically had his name on it. But it seemed ever since they arrived here, it was as if they simply couldn’t afford the waste of time. Ribbing was a favored pastime of his in Aman, but Beleriand offered no such frivolities.

But living with the twins, putting on playful words and coaxing laughter from two young faces that Maglor couldn’t bear to see two seconds from breaking anymore, had apparently loosened his discipline.

He’d thought Maedhros would treat him to one of his signature frowns, barking at him that neither of them had time to make things any harder for each other, but instead he’d… laughed. Just the slightest huff of air, yes, but a laugh nonetheless. Maglor hadn’t heard his brother laugh since…

Well, if anything, he was honoring his cousin’s memory.

So Maglor experimented over the years, let a few more teases and whines slip into his day-to-day interactions with Maedhros. His brother had since mustered a valiant effort to act annoyed, but Maglor could still catch a muffled chuckle or smothered grin here and there.

So. All in all, he’s sure he knows his brother pretty well at this point, and Maedhros was not troubled (bad), just bothered (good).

Which, of course, meant they could continue to play; Maglor would show no mercy.

“Please? Please, please? Just a smidgen of tender love and care from my dearly beloved big brother?” Maglor asked, eyes wide and pleading, hands clasped in front of him as he leaned over the desk. His hair, inky black, spilled all over his scroll.

Maedhros’ nose twitched. His right ear flicked. Oh yes. He was close to a chuckle now, he could tell. His dearly beloved big brother stood no fucking chance.

“Oh dear Eru, let my brother pay attention to - MANWË’S TITS!” Maglor shrieked, springing up from his seat after spotting a dark shadow peeking through the window.

His brother whirled around. Quick as a viper, his hand darted out to grasp the hilt of his sword. Despite this, Maglor could hear a choked noise he was more than halfway certain was the chuckle he had so desperately hunted. Oh well.

A chubby face stared right back at them, eyes round as saucers. Wait, make that two faces.

Both Maglor and Maedhros sagged with relief.

“Elros, can you please come in?” Maglor croaked, feeling five feet to the left of his physical body. “You too, Elrond.”

The two of them nodded bashfully, heads bobbing as they fumbled over to the glass. And they were… flapping. Each twin sported small brown wings on their back, looking much like the falcons Tyelko used to play with as a child. Maglor supposed, thinking of a great bird soaring away over the sea with light itself clutched tight in its talons, maybe they should have expected this one in particular.

Elros pushed once, twice at the windows, tiny arms straining against the pane and looking more panicked by the second. Behind him, Elrond simply pointed to the - oh, the window latch. Yes.

Maedhros stood up and flicked it open. Elros came tumbling through, nearly bashing his skull on the desk before Maedhros caught him midair.

Elrond flew in smoothly and landed on Maglor’s empty chair, wings neatly folding in. Maedhros dumped Elros on his own chair. His wing smacked Maedhros’ arm by mistake.

“We talked about this. No new shapeshifting without me or Maglor there,” Maedhros said, fixing each of them with a stern look.

Both the twins looked down at this. Elrond wrung his little wrists.

“We’re sorry!” Elros burst out, tears welling up in his eyes. “We won’t do it again, promise!”

“That’s what you said last time, sweetheart,” Maglor told him.

“And the time before that,” Maedhros grumbled.

“What we’re saying, dear, is that we understand that you’re sorry. But keeping your word has to take first priority,” Maglor explained softly.

Maedhros coughed.

“Or, er, not doing it again,” Maglor corrected. “That’s what counts.”

“We understand,” Elros sniffled. “It’s just, we wanted to hear, but you weren’t there to check with, because well, you were here, and, well, um, yes -”

“Bringing us to the next point of order,” Maedhros rumbled. He raised a brow at both of them. “Eavesdropping. We have also been over this.”

Oh dear. Elros looked like he was about to drown in a puddle of tears. Maglor rubbed a hand between his shoulder blades soothingly, careful of the new feathery appendages.

Thankfully, Elrond stepped in. “We remember, it’s not nice because we like to be in private sometimes and it’s not fair for us to not let other people be too,” he recited shyly. “Um, we just… we know you both meet up a lot like this, and we know it's important… but… um…” His lip trembled; his voice cracked. “Do you... talk about us? Do you not want us to hear because it’s bad? Because we can do better!” He promised quickly, eyes wide and wet. “Elros is getting really good at his music lessons, he’s practicing a lot! And I’m working on my writing lessons every day!”

Something in Maglor’s chest twisted. “Oh, honey, no -”

But his brother beat him to the punch. Striding out from behind the desk, he knelt down in front of Elrond. “Can I hug you?” he asked very quietly.

Elrond bit his lip and nodded. Without another word, Maedhros wrapped him up in his arms.

They stayed like that for a moment, Maedhros’ hulking frame wrapped around Elrond’s body, like a drape of russet locks, leather and rich furs. When his brother finally pulled away, he gave a heavy look to both children.

“We will never give you away because you’re not good enough. Alright? You will always be good enough. Both of you,” he told them. He reached out and covered Elrond’s tiny hand with his own, fingers curling around and intertwining. “And not because you’re caught up on your lessons, or do what we say.”

“Though those are certainly nice,” Maglor added. He flashed them a teasing grin before taking care to soften his expression once more, and laid a gentle hand on Elros’ shoulder. “You will always have our love. And nothing, not even the worst jam spill, or missed harp lesson - don’t think I didn’t notice that last week, dearest - can ever reach in and steal it. It is your’s by blood and birthright.”

“Love you,” Elros sniffled. Elrond echoed him, voice no less wobbly.

Maedhros gifted them with a small smile. “Love you both, starlights.”

“And -” Elros started, hiccuped, and continued. “And same for me too. Nothing can change that! I’ll always love you two.”

Maglor felt a pang of sickly guilt invade his chest and looked away. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Maedhros stiffen.

“Me too,” Elrond said, voice suddenly clear. Maglor glanced at him and met a gaze that seemed years ahead of its time; he froze, rooted to the spot. “We’ll always love you no matter what you do.”

“Well -” Maglor started. “That’s…”

“No need to worry about us,” Maedhros recovered quickly, waving his hand. “Now then, it’s nearing bedtime, hm?”

“But wait!” Elros cried. “What were you two talking about then?”

“Yes! We saw Atya going like this,” Elrond clasped his pudgy hands together and shook them. “And his voice sounded all funny, and then he prayed to Eru about Atar paying more attention to Manwe’s t-”

“ALRIGHT!” Maglor yelped, clapping his hands. His face must’ve been steaming, his cheeks were burning, oh stars - “Bedtime!”

“But we want to know why you were saying all those funny things,” Elros complained loudly. His voice slipped into a high pitched whine, dripping with petulance. “Nelyo, Nelyo, give me attentioooon -”

“I do not sound like that!” Maglor gasped, scooping up a giggling Elrond to be carried to bed.

“I do not sound like that!”

Maglor turned around, gaping. That was not Elros’ voice.

Maedhros stared back. His eyes glinted with mirth and the most shit-eating grin curled his lips. In his arms was a starstruck Elros, who looked no less shocked than if the clouds themselves had just burst into song and danced a lively jig. And quite frankly, Maglor would be less surprised.

Maedhros dealt him one last smirk before twirling on his heel and walking out of the room to go deposit one elfling in his bed. Maglor still had the other, who poked his cheek.

“Atya? Are you okay?”

Slowly, ever so slowly, Maglor felt a smile grow across his face. His eyes stung with tears. He quickly wiped them with his sleeve before they could fatten and spill over his cheeks and probably make Elrond worry even more.

“Wonderful, dear.” He frowned for a second, considering. “Although I think there is a dreadful amount of mockery in my future.”

He looked down at Elrond. His son merely tilted his round head, offering a blank look. Maglor sighed happily. “But that’s okay.”

XXX

In time, it became clear that there was no need to worry about the looming threat of brotherly teasing paid back in full; Maedhros may have been looser with his laughter, but even this was a rare occasion still. Maglor did not mind, for any time he saw his brother’s eyes alight with anything other than fatal passion was a gift.

The true threat that lurked within Amon Ereb made itself known eventually.

Two weeks later, Maglor was scurrying to meet up with one of the smiths to discuss pending repairs but stopped short in front of a small figure in the courtyard blocking his path.

“Not now, sweetheart, Atya’s very busy,” Maglor told Elrond, harried, ready to flag down someone on the way to attend to whatever his son needed.

And then it happened. Elrond’s face crumpled just so. His eyes widened: big, round, and wet. His lip wobbled. When he opened his mouth, his voice took on a tone so absolutely, horribly pitiful that Maglor half-suspected the echo of Lúthien herself lived in his words.

“Please, Atya,” he begged, every word a death sentence. “Give me attentiooon.”

Oh Eru, Maglor despaired, even as he opened his arms for an evil little elfling to leap into, repairs forgotten. I’ve made a monster.

#this was also my first go at writing more humor #but the hurt/comfort managed to sneak in #kidnap dads #kidnap fam #maedhros #maglor #elrond #elros #my writing #writing prompts #fic #jaz-the-bard

[fuckallthegood0nesweretaken]

Echuio CH. Three

Movie: Adventure

Title: Rivendell

Words: 1483

Warnings: A few kisses

Translations: 

Vaen - Beautiful

Bi leib vaen - You are beautiful

Bunnanunê - My tiny treasure 

Mukhuh, miz kurdu - Please, my heart

Imladris alatúlië I Maiar - Rivendell welcomes the Maiar 

Previous Chapter - Next Chapter

Echuio Masterlist

Fili Durin Masterlist

Book Masterlist

Masterlist 

~~~~~~~ 

Gandalf led you down a path and to the front doors where you saw Elves for the first time. Gandalf spoke to an Elf named Lindir and when you were looking around in awe, you heard horns blaring behind you. Turning, you saw what you assumed were Elves racing towards you on horses. Thorin shouted something in Dwarvish and you were pulled closer to Fili as the Dwarves and Bilbo formed a tight circle.

 You were a little scared, the horses and Elves much taller than you. Once the Elves had dismounted their horses, you learned that the one who led the pack was Elrond. He spoke to Gandalf and Thorin before speaking to the group and offering food. Then he saw you. His eyes narrowed and he tilted his head at you. Looking at Gandalf, you knew that you would have to tell him what happened to you.

 ---

 You were led to a table covered in food and you sat down, Fili on one side and Bilbo on the other. The Dwarves were less than happy at the choice of the food but you didn’t care. You were starving after the day you had and found yourself eating a lot. It was boring, however, but when Bofur decided to stand on top of the table and start singing, you laughed and clapped along with everyone else. The Dwarves were throwing food around and you couldn’t help but giggle when it made contact with someone or something.

 After a while, you excused yourself from the table and walked up to the one named Lindir.

 “I’m sorry to bother you, but do you have a place where I can take a bath?” You asked him.

 “Of course, Vendethiel. Follow me.”

 You were confused by what he called you but followed him anyways. Lindir showed you to a room with a bed and a bathroom inside it.

 “I will have someone bring you some fresh clothes, if you’d like.”

 “Do you have anything that can fit me?” You said with a laugh, Lindir smiling slightly.

 “We can find something. They shall be on the bed before you are done bathing,” he said, bowing slightly.

 “Thank you. I appreciate it.”

 Lindir said nothing else and left you alone in the room.

 ---

 After your bath, you walked into the bedroom to see a package on the bed. Walking up to it, you read the note attached.

         Vendethiel,

I hope you find this fits well. Don’t hesitate to ask if you need anything else.

                                     -Lord Elrond

 You smiled and opened the package to see a beautiful dress. It was a bright blue and looked like water when it moved. Putting it on, you found that it fit perfectly and that there was a matching set of shoes in the box as well. You spun around, watching the fabric fly out before coming back to you and you couldn’t help but laugh. You were interrupted by a knock on the door and you called for the person to come in.

 “Miss [y/n],” you heard Fili say before his voice faded. You saw Fili in the doorway and you smiled at him.

 “Fili! Come in. Look at what Lord Elrond gifted me.” You twirled, a giggle escaping your lips.

 “Vaen,” Fili breathed, walking forward slowly.

 “You know, you call me that all the time but you haven’t told me what it means,” you said.

 You turned to face Fili only to find him a foot away from you. He reached out to caress your face and you closed your eyes at his soft touch.

 “Bi leib vaen,” he said, brushing some hair out of your face. “You are beautiful.”

 Your eyes opened wide and you looked at Fili.

 “Me?”

 “Aye. Bunnanunê,” Fili murmured.

 “And what does that mean?” You asked, voice light. Your eyes kept darting between his lips and his eyes and Fili smirked.

 “I think I’ll keep that to myself.”

 You were going to say something but your words died in your throat as Fili stepped closer to you, his chest bumping yours and his gaze boring into you.

 “Can I kiss you? Mukhuh, miz kurdu.” Fili’s hands were running up and down your arms, his touch light. You searched his face for any ill-will and when you found none, you nodded.

 “Yes.”

 “Thank Mahal.”

 Without any further prompting, Fili captured your lips in a searing kiss. One of his hands went to your waist and the other ran itself through your hair. Your hands cupped Fili’s face and as the kiss wound down, your thumbs started rubbing his cheekbones.

 “I’ve wanted to do that since we met,” Fili said, breaking away from you.

 “Me too.” The two of you made eye contact and started laughing. When the laughter died out, Fili put his forehead on yours. You closed your eyes, relishing in the intimacy you felt.

 “Can I call you mine, vaen?” Fili asked. Opening your eyes, you saw him staring at you hopefully.

 “Will your uncle approve? What about the rest of the Company?”

 “Does that really matter? [Y/n], bunnanunê, you are special to me. Am I special to you?”

 “Of course you are! You are very special to me.” You looked him in the eye and sighed when you saw the pure hope and happiness in his eyes.

 “Alright,” you said. “I’ll be yours.”

 Fili’s face split into a grin and he swept you into his arms, spinning in circles. You were laughing the whole time and didn’t want this moment to end. When he put you down, Fili brushed his fingers through your hair and started to braid a small section.

 “Do you know the meaning behind braids, Miss [y/n]?” Fili asked you.

 “No.”

 “Braids mean different things depending on where they’re placed and by who places them. One braid can mean loyalty. Another could mean friendship. This one means courtship.” Fili’s voice had gone low and your breath hitched. He finished the braid and clipped it closed with a bead. You traced the braid in your hair, your fingers lightly touching the bead.

 “Do I put one on you?”

 “It is traditional for the initiator to braid the hair of the one they want to court. The receiving party doesn’t do anything. But if you wanted to, I wouldn’t say no.”

 Grin on your face, you grabbed the some hair in the same spot Fili braided yours. You started brushing your fingers through it before quickly braiding it.

 “I don’t have anything to tie it off with,” you said with a frown. Looking around the room, your eyes landed on your bag and lit up.

 “Can you hold this for a second? I need to grab something from my bag.” Fili nodded and took his hair as you ran across the room. After grabbing a piece of twine, you ran back over to Fili and took his hair, quickly tying it together.

 “It’s not as fancy as the bead you put in my hair, but I hope it’s suitable,” you said hesitantly.

 “This is the twine you were using to make arrows, right?” You nodded and Fili touched your cheek gently. “It’s perfect.”

 ---

 You had been in Rivendell for a few days when Lord Elrond came up to you. You were currently reading a book Lindir had leant you on a terrace overlooking the path Gandalf had told you to take early the next morning.

 “Vendethiel,” he said. You turned and saw the Elf standing a few feet away from you.

 “Lord Elrond.”

 “How are you liking Rivendell?” He asked you.

 “I love it. It’s beautiful and peaceful. It truly is a lovely place.” You gave him a smile and he tilted his head.

 “I’m glad to hear it.” It was silent for a moment until Elrond spoke almost hesitantly.

 “Gandalf tells me that you have no recollection of how you got here,” he said.

 “That’s right. I can’t remember anything but small details.”

 “You seem awfully calm for someone whose memories disappeared.”

 “I wasn’t at first, don’t get me wrong. I was scared. So scared. Oddly enough though, the thing that made me panic the most was my lack of height,” you said with a laugh. “But I’m starting to get the feeling like I’m meant to be here. You know what I mean?”

 “I do. I can’t help but think that you are supposed to be here as well.” Elrond started to walk away and turned to face you as he reached the door. “You are always welcome at Rivendell, Vendethiel. Imladris alatúlië I Maiar.”

 “Thank you. I’ll keep that in mind.”

 Elrond bowed before leaving you alone once again. With a sigh, you went back to your book. This would be the last few hours of peace before you had to go back on the road again and you would take as much of it as possible.

~~~~~~~

Taglist:

@panhoeofmanyfandoms

#Echuio #fili x reader #reader insert #x reader #the hobbit x reader #the hobbit fanfiction #Fili Durin #the hobbit

[elles-writing]

A messy situation - Kili x reader - Day 10

A messy situation

Pairing: The Company x reader, Kili x reader x Fili, kinda Lindir x reader

Warnings/triggers:  a bit of swearing

Genre: fluff

Word: Spell Book – Day 10

Word count: 2607

A/N: I wanted to write this idea for a while, and this was perfect opportunity! It came out longer than expected, but I hope you will enjoy anyways. I took some inspo from when I spended a day with my cousin, who is adorable little bean, so yeah. Also, reader and Kili are courting, by the way.

Tags: @dumbassunderthemountain​ @moony-artnstuff​ @artsywaterlily​ @trxblemaker​ @claraofthepen​ @red-riding​

Message me if you want to be added/removed from taglist.

Gandalf should’ve known this will be a bad idea.

You and the dwarves ended up in Rivendell , and after the dinner, Fili and Kili decided to find a book, that Gandalf had at the dinner.

When they sneaked in Elrond’s office, they found it on the table, right away. They quickly took it and when they were far enough, they opened it. Their eyes widened.

„It’s a spell book, Fee!“ Kili said, excited. They started to look through it, giggling and excited.

Soon, they were discovered by Gandalf. He didn’t looked too amused, and when the Durin’s brothers noticed him, they both paled and gulped.

„What are you two-oh, so this is what you were doing! Looking through a book with spells. Alright, if you want to act like children, then you will!“ He rose his staff.

„Oh, finally, that’s where you’ve been hiding-“ You stepped in, behind Fili and Kili. It was all quick – they jumped down, you walked in, and let out a surprised yelp.

Gandalf looked down and his eyes widened.

„Oh, Y/N-“ A four-year-old child was looking up on him, confused, in too big and baggy clothes. You giggled and Fili and Kili looked up, their eyes wide.

„It will take a few hours, before the spell should wear-off. I will try to find a spell, if it wouldn’t worn off, as she is a human, not a dwarf, so meanwhile, you two will take care of Y/N,“ The brothers looked at each other, Fili being the older brother, but Kili never had a younger sibling.

„Understood?“ Gandalf looked down at them strictly, though there was a twinkle and worry in his eyes. The brothers stood up and nodded.

„Yeah, of course, Y/N-oh no, she’s away!“ Fili looked behind him.

„Kili, c’mon,“ He said and soon, they were trying to find you, surprised by the fact that you were quick even in that baggy clothes.

„Let me brush your hair, pleaseee-!“ A loud cry and yell was heard from opposite side of the hall. They’ve noticed Lindir walking, confused, and you, trying to catch him, while falling down on your knees all the time. You let out a cry and looked up at Lindir, with puppy eyes even better than Kili’s (and that meant something), and he didn’t knew what to do with that child that looked like you, but wasn’t there a few minutes before.

„Hey, Y/N!“ Fili called. You looked at him and a smile appeared on your face. He knelt down and patted your head, trying to catch his breath.

„You’re okay, that’s great. Now, we will go find you something more fitting,“ He said. Kili frowned.

„But Fili, she’s a-“

„Of course Kili, I know she’s an adult, but now she actually is a four-years-old. So the lass is a bit shorted,“ He explained to Kili, as if he couldn’t see it.

„What are we gonna do?“ Kili started pacing around (Lindir quickly walked away to find Lord Elrond and ask him about it). You giggled.

„Alright lass, let’s go,“ Fili said and took you to his arms like a baby. You giggled. Kili furrowed his brows, but didn’t said anything.

They couldn’t find any room with a child’s clothes, or at least small enough for you. It was around twenty minutes, and they still couldn’t find anything. You were getting impatient and moody. Until you found a fun activity to do, while you were bored.

„Don’t do that, lass, that hurts!“ Fili told you and tried to put your hands off of his moustache. Kili quietly giggled and winked at you, to continue. Fili snorted.

„Oh yeah, support her.“ He said sarcastically, while you were pulling his mustache, again. Kili shrugged his shoulders.

„Just sayin‘ that if you’ll ever be an uncle, you should maybe get used to it.“ Fili rolled his eyes and yelped both in surprise and pain.

„Oh lass, just stop! I know you’re bored, this annoying little shit over here was too, when he was a dwarfling, but-“ You stopped pulling his moustache and mumbled something a few times. The brothers exchanged a look, when you suddenly yelled out:

„Shit!“ And pointed to Kili. Fili shook his head.

„No, that’s Kili. Kee. That is K-i-l-i.“ You shook your head and pouted.

„No.“ Fili couldn’t help, but laughed, and Kili snorted.

„If you’ll ever have a children, they will call you like this. Oh, brother. And look at her pout! Oh Mahal, I want to see you both together as a children,“ He chuckled, dramatically pointing to you. You shook your head.

„Mahal,“ You mumbled and looked questioningly at Fili. Him and Kili stared at you for a second, and Fili started to laugh again.

„Hey, Fili, that’s not fair!“ Kili frowned. You giggled.

„Oh, the teasing is awesome, Y/N. You’re as good as when you were an adult. I can’t believe that you and Fili paired up against me, but I’ll tease you much more, just wait-“ Fili grinned at his brother’s dramatics.

„What if you’d carry Y/N now, Kee? What do you think of it, Y/N? Wanna go to Kili?“ He asked you. You looked to Kili’s brown eyes, blushed and hid your face in Fili’s sleeve. Fili smirked.

„She likes you even as a child.“ He handed you to Kili and he looked down at you, with your huge and innocent e/c  eyes, staring up at him. His lips stretched to smile and he was about to tear up.

Oh Mahal, she’s so cute as a child...if we would have a daughter that would just like her...

His stupid smile was lasting a while, before Fili patted his shoulder.

„You okay, Kee?“ He looked up on him and Fili chuckled.

„Let’s hope the spell wears off, so you can give me nieces and nephews.“ Kili frowned at him and then smiled at you, slowly falling asleep.

„Let’s hope it will be mini Y/N.“

But a while after, he almost regretted his statement about wanting to have a children. Almost.

„Why’s she crying, Fee?“ Kili hopelessly asked his brother.

„She’s hungry,“ He looked at your upset expression. You seemed to be totally done with them, so you were giving them a silent treatment.

„How can you tell?“ Fili shrugged his shoulders, looking into one another room.

„I have a younger brother, if you don’t remember.“ Kili opened his mouth to say something, but Fili was quicker.

„Here we go!“ He waved a small tunic and trousers, that were done for an elfling, so they were still long for you,  but not that much, at least. Kili looked around, then nudged you to wake up (you were constantly falling asleep and waking up). You opened your eyes and your annoyed expression was worth thousand words.

„Can you change to that clothes by yourself, Y/N?“ He asked. You nodded and he placed you down, surprisingly carefully. You took the clothes Fili handed you, and after he told you to change and come out, he let you to close the door to have some privacy.

„I just hope she won’t be calling me shit even after the spell will wear off,“ Kili mumbled. Fili laughed.

„She did called you a little shit before too, don’t you remember?“ Kili blushed.

„Oh, that was when she thought it was me who placed that spider to her bedroll,“ Fili rolled his eyes.

„Oh yeah, but it was fun to see you trying to convince her that it really wasn’t your idea.“ Kili’s jaw fell down.

„Wait, so it was you-?“ A child’s voice was suddenly behind the door, and you quickly opened them, not slow enough for them to realize they need to step away. You runned through the hall and soon, you were away. Both Fili and Kili were hissing at the pain. The door must’ve been from much harder type of wood than any other.

„Shit,“ Fili commented.

„We lost her.“ Both of them paled. But, luckily for them, you runned to them from the back, finding this huge place as a playground. She’s like a four-year-old with an ADHD!, Kili thought and huffed.

„OH SHIT Y/N-“ They yelled out when you jumped on Fili’s back and both of them fell down to the ground. You quickly got up, and Fili and Kili realized why.

„Whose child is this? She poured a tomato sauce on my head!“ An elf yelled out, flustrated. The exact same elf was giggling next to him.

„Mahal, shit, we better run,“ You whispered. Fili quickly took you to his arms and both of them sprinted away.

They stopped in the garden. You jumped out of Fili’s arms and started haunting a butterfly. Fili and Kili were breathing deeply, their faces flushed. Kili pushed some wet strands of his hair away from his face, and looked after you.

„I understand now how it is like, to be babysitting a children or siblings,“ Kili said and Fili just nodded.

„Aye, the lass is quite wilde one.“ You runned back towards them with a huge smile on your face and twinkle in your eyes.

„Let’s play tag!“ You giggled, and before any of them could answer, you touched Kili’s index finger.

„You’re it!“ And runned away, back to the castle. Both brothers looked at each other, exhausted.

„If this is how your children will be like, then I don’t know-“ Kili patted his shoulder.

„Well, now-YOU’RE IT!“ Kili yelled out and runned after you. Fili stood there, stunned, with opened mouth for a second, but quickly made his legs to move.

„Hey, that was not fair!“ Kili giggled and noticed h/c  hair, turning around the corner. He runned after you and noticed you were going to hide in a library. He chuckled. How typical for you.

Meanwhile, Fili had to stop. He furrowed his brows, trying to figure out where did you and Kili runned. It could be anywhere in this castle!

„Fili,“ Thorin noticed his nephew. Fili turned around.

„Oh, uhm, Uncle.“ Thorin frowned and folded his arms over his chest.

„Gandalf told me what happened. Where is Kili and Y/N?“ Fili didn’t wanted to make Thorin angry even more than he knew he already was. He gulped.

„Uhm, well, Y/N and Kili, they...well, it’s been Y/N’s idea to play, uhm...to play tag and they runned...well...“ Fili tried to figure out what to say to not actually say that he lost you and Kili in this huge palace.

Meantime, you and Kili were in the library, behind one sofa. He placed his index finger on his lips, to show you that you have to be quiet, and you did it too. He smiled and whispered,

„Now, Fili won’t find us that easily,“ You scrunched your face. He quietly groaned and looked carefully up over the edge.

„We’re good, Y/N.“ When he scrunched back down, you had still furrowed brows.

„That other one, that one with moustache,“ He imitated pulling the moustache braids. You smiled and nodded.

„Mahal!“ Kili groaned.

„No, he’s Fili. Fee. Say F-I-L-I, Y/N, Fi-li-“ You shook your head and runned to find a new hiding place. Kili jumped up.

„Oh no, Y/N, come back!“ He runned after you.

You runned through the halls, but after a while, you bumped into someone. You looked up and met Gandalf’s eyes. His eyebrows furrowed when he noticed Kili, running after you.

„Oh, here you are, miss Y/N.“ You smiled and looked over your shoulder at Kili. He looked up on Gandalf and pointed to you.

„We are really babysitting Y/N, but we decided to play tag, so, uhm,“ He looked down at you.

„Where you have Fili then, Kili?“ Kili looked around, uncomfortable.

„I, uh, well, I thought he was right behind-“

„KILI!“ Thorin’s voice was much stronger in those huge halls. Fili was right behind him.

„Gandalf told me what you two did, and I thought you were mature enough to know. I didn’t expected this reckless behaviour from you,“ He said, looking at his nephews. Both Kili and Fili looked down on the floor, ashamed. You forrowed your brows.

„You should’ve know,“ You mourmed. Thorin’s eyes widened.

„Y/N? Why is she still a child?“ He looked at Gandalf and you scrunched your face.

„I’m not a child! I’m four years old and...Mahal, shit,“ You whispered, wanting to have some support. Thorin looked at you, surprised. He could hear what did you just said.

„What did you learned her?“ He looked at his nephews. Fili pointed to you.

„We didn’t learned her, she, uhm, overheard it and then, well...that’s how she calls us,“ He explained and Thorin rose his brow.

„And how did she overheard it?“ Kili and Fili exchanged a look.

„Well, it was an accident,“ Kili started. You yawned deeply and rubbed your eyes.

„I’m tired,“ You said and tried to keep your eyes open.

„Well, the lass is tired, we will take her to her room, Uncle Thorin,“ Both brothers said and Kili picked you up.

„Where’s your room, lass?“ Kili asked and you opened your eyes and pointed to a door.

„A few doors away from here,“ You murmed and closed your eyes again. They stepped in and Kili placed you carefully to your bed.

„Sweet dreams,“ He whispered and he ruffled your hair. You scrunched your face.

„Don‘ mess wit‘ ma hair,“ You murmed. He chuckled and sat down next to your bed.

„She’s so adorable when she sleeps,“ Kili said and Fili rolled his eyes.

„Oh, don’t start, please.“ They both chuckled. Their fun didn’t lasted too long, before Thorin motioned for them to come out of your chamber. He wasn’t done with them yet.

They stood up and stepped out. Thorin took them a bit away, so he wouldn’t wake you up.

He was in the middle of giving a piece of his mind to Fili and Kili, when they heard a sound of tearing fabric and yelling. Both brothers runned into your room, prepared to protect you, but both of them were red when they realized you were covering yourself with your blanket.

„G-Gandalf, I think it worked!“ Fili said and quickly walked out. Kili smirked and you huffed.

„I’ve had a strange dream,“ You said and lifted up a piece of fabric.

„But it seems like it was not a dream,“ You stared at him, angrily. He chuckled.

„You were enjoying it, my dear.“ You scoffed and then groaned.

„My head is hurting and my stomach also isn’t feeling the best,“ You said.

„Also, I called Fili Mahal and I called you a shit.“ He rolled his eyes.

„As if you’d never called me a shit before,“ He commented. You scoffed again and folded your arms over the blanket on your chest.

„Oh yes, actually you deserved it. I should’ve called Fili a shit too,“ You muttered. Kili came to you and kissed your cheek.

„If we will ever have a children, it will be Fili’s nightmare,“ He murmed. You giggled.

„Nah, I bet he will be over the moon.“ He pecked your lips and turned to find Gandalf and Fili, but he didn’t had to.

„Looks like you needed to get some sleep, miss Y/N,“ He said, not really looking at you, but on the floor. You nodded.

„Oh yeah, I suppose.“ He nodded and left, Fili and Thorin too, closing the door. Kili was about to go, too, but you catched his hand. He turned to you, surprised, finding you with a smirk on your face and mischievous twinkle in your eyes.

„Would you like to stay for a while, Kili?“ His own lips stretched into a grin.

„Of course, love.“

#13daysofspookywritingevent #kili x reader #the hobbit fanfiction #the hobbit x reader #the company #kili #kili durin #fili #fili x reader

[castieltrash1]

imagine → reuniting with lindir

requested by/for: @amelialistree! i changed a few VERY minor details but i hope this is what you were looking for!! tysm for sending in my baby boo!! xx

-

Considering none other than Thorin Oakenshield was leading the company you currently belonged to – you knew better than to bring up your past regarding the Race of Elves in his presence. Besides a few comments on Erebor or Hobbiton, the others had provided little information about their past and focused most of their attention on the reclamation of the Lonely Mountain – so revealing your previous accomplices seemed needless.

Of course, that was until Gandalf led the company to Rivendell, and you realized quickly that your secrecy would be unveiled. In fact, your worries pressured you enough to join Thorin’s complaining in regards to the enemy, as he referred to them. The word was harsh, yes, but if agreeing with Thorin was going to keep you in the company, then enemies the Elves would be. The company’s travel thus far had been exhilarating. You’d slain Orcs, turned Trolls to stone, and even met another one of the six Wizards. Never in your life had you imagined adventure as grand, and you knew there was much more to come – including defeating Smaug himself. You couldn’t lose an opportunity like this, which meant you couldn’t risk Thorin knowing of your past alliances.

However, you had no escape as Gandalf led the company down to Rivendell. Dwarves and Hobbit alike stared at Imladris in awe, taking in the beautiful valley, but you were too plagued with concerns to pay attention to the place you once found solace in. The only thing – or person – on your mind was one Elf you hoped, prayed the company would not encounter. He would surely reveal your identity, and you would too, as you knew you would be unable to avoid showing your care for him. The other elves you could brush off, and you doubted too many remembered you well, but if he saw you, it was all over.

All you could do was hope he was away in his books or the garden, per usual.

But, when he descended the stairs to greet the company, you were stuck in place. He’d not aged a day, of course, but he’d certainly grown into himself since you’d last seen him – when he was barely reaching his ‘adulthood’ years, despite him being much older than yourself. Purples and browns contrasted against his pale skin, the circlet atop his head perfectly framing his slender face. He noticed Gandalf first – being the slightly taller outlier amongst the dwarves in front – and smiled.

“Mithrandir.” Oh, his voice has certainly changed too and the mature, deeper tone sent chills down your back. Gandalf turned and returned the greeting, placing his hand against his heart before leading his arm outward. Beside you, the dwarves mumbled amongst themselves in Khuzdul, and your hand clenched at your side.

You knew you didn’t stand a chance. What you felt for Lindir was going to be obvious very quickly, and you’d lose the company in a heartbeat. But, it seemed a cheap price to pay when you considered that badmouthing Lindir was the only alternative.

“We heard you had crossed into the Valley,” Lindir commented, and let his eyes drag across the rest of the company. When his gaze landed on you, he froze, jaw tensing. Only when Gandalf mentioned Elrond, did he snap out of his daze.

“My Lord Elrond is not here,” he answered, effortlessly switching into English from his previous Sindarin. It was almost like your presence had zero effect on him, and Gandalf didn’t seem to notice much as he continued on the conversation.

Within seconds, the Elves in question arrived, and one of the dwarves pulled you into their close formation, as horses surrounded you all. But, even amidst the sudden chaos, you managed a glance at Lindir whose dark eyes burned holes into the arm around your waist.

You had no idea what he was thinking and it took a while to get a moment alone with him, as you were always surrounded by a dwarf or guard elf at one point or another. It wasn’t until food was being served, and the company took their places at the table, were you able to sneak away. Lindir had been standing by Elrond with a questionable look on his face, but when you excused yourself from the table during Bofur’s loud singing, you didn’t see him. The guards stared at you oddly as you walked a bit, but paid you no attention otherwise.

“I cannot help but feel you’re looking for me.” You jumped at the sudden voice and turned quickly, pressing your palm against your pounding chest.

“Lindir!” Without thinking, you pulled him into a hug, letting out a deep sigh. He tensed and his arms stayed by his sides for a moment’s pause, before he lifted one hand to pat your back. It seemed forced at first, but soon he was rubbing your lower back, and pulling you closer with his other arm.

When you pulled away – too aware of the curious dwarf gazes at the back of your head – you stayed in his personal space regardless, a grin on your face.

“I’ve missed you, mellon.”

He sent you a sad smile. “I’ve missed you as well, Y/N.”

He had known better than to get attached to you when you showed up in Rivendell. You had quite a reputation for adventuring and his timid self had initially been intimidated. However, he soon realized that you were more like him than expected and that your wanderlust desires were only a small part of your character. Lindir used that to his advantage while you stayed in the Valley, showing you all the hidden parts, gardens, rooms, and secrets of Rivendell. He watched the way your eyes sparkled, and knew you would never truly be content in one place for too long – but his heart was already dedicated to you. Little did he know, you felt the same way.

Yes, you had left Rivendell, but you never expected to be gone forever. A part of you would always remain there. But your connection with Lindir had made returning so difficult. Without the company’s mission, you were unsure you would have ever worked up enough courage to go back, let alone to throw yourself into Lindir’s arms so easily.

But the sweet moment was cut off as the dwarves grew rowdier, food being thrown between them and cackles resounding through the otherwise quiet eating area. You flinched within Lindir’s hold as you remembered exactly who you were being accompanied by, and the Elf seemed to think the same as he fought to hide a scowl.

“I see you’ve been busy,” he commented and pulled away from you. “With dwarves, no less.” Lindir couldn’t hide the bitterness in his tone if he tried.

You cleared your throat. “They’re not the worst company. But, as long as adventure is involved, I rarely complain, right? We used to be like that, you know.” You laughed awkwardly, but Lindir’s forlorn expression remained.

“I believe that was quite different.” His eyebrows furrowed together. “In fact, I cannot say I approve of this adventure, nor do I believe Lord Elrond would.”

“I’m not asking you to,” you retorted, then softened your voice. “I know you’ve never been fond of these types of things, but I’m going on this trip. I’m sorry.”

Lindir just nodded, and swallowed the concoction of emotions bubbling in his throat. He seemed slightly hurt, but you knew he’d been expecting that type of answer. He always had.

You took a deep breath. You didn’t want to leave him again so suddenly, but you knew you wouldn’t be staying in Rivendell either. So, you needed to leave him something. Some hope. Some reassurance.

Without a second thought, you brought your hand to his face, cupping his jaw. “Lindir, look at me.” His dark eyes obeyed immediately, and had he not always been so composed, you would have bet he was tearing up.

Your thumb brushed over his high cheekbone, and he nuzzled into your touch. The action was so small you almost missed it. But, it gave you the courage you needed.

You pressed yourself up and allowed your lips to meet his. It was the moment you’d both waited years for, and immediately both of your forms relaxed into each other’s hold. Lindir let out a soft sigh before he was kissing you again, his own hand making its way to your cheek.

“Lindir, do you trust me?” you murmured against his mouth.

Lindir swallowed heavily, but stayed rooted in place, warm breath hitting your lips. “With my life.”

You smiled softly against him. “Then trust me when I say, I will be back soon. I promise.”

-

a/n: yall this fic was some STR8 elf propaganda. im an elf-fucker tho what can i sAY. im sorry. not really. i’d like to (redacted). anyway. enjoy !! xx

#lindir imagine #lindir x reader #lindir fluff #the hobbit imagine #the hobbit fluff #the hobbit #lindir #lindir drabble #lindir x reader fluff #lindir x reader imagine #tolkien #tolkien imagine #tolkien drabble #tolkien fluff #lord of the rings #lord of the rings imagine #lord of the rings fluff #lord of the rings drabble #t: writing

[fuckingfinwions]

AU: In Noldorin culture, starting at his majority at age 50, an elf sexually serves his father. After all, so much was putting into raising the child, it’s only fair that he gets to see what came of it. It would be abhorrent for a father to physically force or to sexually torment his son, but the son is expected to come to his father’s bed whenever requested, until the son reaches his second majority (age 100), or marries and starts a family of his own.

This fulfills the “leather/rubber” square of my season of kink card.

Gil-Galad and Maedhros sat across from each other. They had met at an abandoned village halfway between the two camps so that Elrond and Elros could go to the large, safer force. The main negotiations had been completed by letter, but now the two commanders were finally seeing each other face to face. Both had left their swords outside to demonstrate truce, though there were guards close enough to make betrayal costly.

Gil-Galad said, “Thank you for releasing the boys. What did you want to speak with me about?”

“That’s all the warmth you have to welcome your father?” Maedhros replied.

“As you are a murderer who hasn’t spoken to me since I was twelve, yes.”

“I sent you away for your safety after the war seemed hopeless. Do you really wish you had fought alongside me these past fifty years?”

“No!”

“Anyway, that touches on what I wanted to speak with you about. I have missed you, though even without me you have grown into a strong king.”

“Thank you for the compliment.”

“I have also missed the chance to see how you’ve grown as a man, as the reflection of my lover and myself. I would have that tonight.”

“You can’t be serious!”

“Why not? You are my son, and I have the right to you. I’m not even considering repayment for the decades you stayed away from me.”

“It is a perverted tradition, and you are worthy of nothing.”

“This has nothing to do with your opinions of my actions. It is a part of Noldorin tradition as much as the crown; you can’t claim one without the other.”

“What would my other father say of this if he were here? Would Fingon be as willing to bend me over the nearest scrap of furniture?”

“You’ve truly been among Sindar too long! The homage of a son to his father is perfectly reasonable and honorable, not merely the refuge of immoral creatures such as you consider me. Fingon and I discussed that we would raise you to understand Noldorin customs and responsibility, and he would be grieved that you turn your back on them.”

“If being among Sindar allowed me to see clearly what is unnatural and marred about having sex with someone you raised from a child, I am glad of it.”

“Unnatural! What could be more natural than to wish how to see the person you find most beautiful in the world combines with yourself? And if you object to sex with someone who raised you, that should make me more appealing rather than less.”

A terrible thought occurred to GIl-Galad. “If you think this way, I assume your brother does as well, and he raised Elwing’s sons. Were they forced to pay for their care the same way?”

“You are phrasing it in the worst possible way, but no. Though the twins call Maglor 'father’, he does not claim any rights over them. And besides, as Peredhel it is hard to know when they are of age.”

Gil-Galad let out a sigh of relief.

“You, though, are my son, and I am growing frustrated that you will acknowledge that but not your duties.”

“Why should I? What benefit will I get out of pretending you deserve anything from me?!”

“Benefit! Fine, then, if you want to cheapen yourself by bartering your body I can hardly stop you. First off, I won’t have my men shoot you tomorrow as you ride away, even though it would help me a lot for the Beleriand Noldor to have no king. Second, I will not tell your followers who curse my name whose son you are, nor will I tell Arafinwe either that you’re mine or that you have less respect for tradition and law than Feanor himself, even though it’s true.”

“So you put me in your bed through threats and blackmail.”

“It could have been out of your own desire and respect, but you decided that was not enough. I you need to be bribed with a treat though, I will tell you in the morning all the tactics that Morgoth has employed in the past five hundred years, so you can better defend against them.”

“You paying only after me? Hardly fair.”

“I am already paying for what is mine by right. I think you have heard quite well what happens to those who try to extort me.”

“Fine. For tonight, I will obey you, Father.”

“Good. Start by taking off your armor, I can hardly see the shape of you.”

Gil-Galad did so, setting each piece off to the side and wondering if this was all an attempt to get him vulnerable enough for an assassination. He struggled with the buckles on the back of his thighs, usually having a squire to help with them.

Maedhros approached, and Gil-Galad tensed. Maedhros undid the buckles that Gil-Galad had been having trouble with, then moved upwards. Maedhros kissed the back of Gil-Galad’s neck as he undid the buckles on his shoulders.

When Gil-Galad was down to his tunic and hose, Maedhros said “very good. Help me with mine now; as I’m not wearing full plate it should be faster.”

Gil-Galad pulled the mail tunic over Maedhros’s head, and wondered aloud, “Even with each other’s help, are we going to be able to put all this back on?”

Maedhros gave an uncaring shrug once he was down to his leather riding pants and jerkin. “Probably not.”

“But people will know!”

“Maglor will guess, but no one else knows you’re my son. You can say that we were working late into the night and sleeping in armor is uncomfortable. Or you can say that the vile kinslayer threatened you into sex, I don’t particularly care. Just know that if anyone tries to avenge your honor their death will be on your conscience.”

“Are you-” Gil-Galad bit off the comment he was going to make. “Don’t joke about that tonight; not if you want me to stay polite.”

“If you inherited the family temper, you ought to practice controlling it more, especially as a king,” Maedhros chided. “But very well.”

Maedhros stepped back and looked at  Gil-Galad; he made a pretty picture. His clothes had been disheveled by the armor’s removal and Gil-Galad had not bothered to put them back in place.

“You look pretty, but I’m sure I’ll enjoy what’s under the clothes even more. Undress for me, slowly.”

Gil-Galad began to unlace his shirt. He looked Maedhros in the eye for a moment, then hastily glanced away. Once the shirt was unlaced at the neck he lifted it a few inches, paused to glance at Maedhros without making eye contact, lifted it an inch more and paused again. Maedhros was about to yell in frustration when Gil-Galad yanked the shirt up until was all bunched between his nipples and chin and wiggled his shoulders, perhaps to show of their breadth.

Gil-Galad was so obviously nervous that he nearly got his arms stuck in the shirt, but Maedhros was far too distracted to help. Maedhros had been right about how much he would enjoy seeing his son’s body. The breadth in the shoulders was all Fingon, but light skin dotted with freckles was barely a shade darker than Maedhros’s own. Gil-Galad’s height came from him as well, and that lovely chest several inches closer to Maedhros’s gaze than when he was with Fingon.

Their similar heights also made Gil-Galad’s lack of eye contact extremely obvious. He wasn’t looking up from his lashes and playing the ingenue, but rather staring at a fixed point a few inches past Maedhros’s left ear. It couldn’t be the ear itself, as that had been gone for centuries, and most people didn’t find it’s lack interesting after a moment or two of shock.

“There’s no need to be nervous. Even if I’m not your first choice of lover, I assure you that I will not cause you pain and have every intention of bringing you pleasure alongside my own.”

Gil-Galad blushed and mumbled for a moment.

“What was that?”

“Not my first choice, but my first all the same.”

“Really? You’re a virgin?”

“Yes. It hasn’t seemed worth the headache pursuing anyone.”

“Are there none who pursue you?” Maedhros asked as he walked closer.

Gil-Galad shook his head.

“You mean that a beautiful, brave, noble young man such as yourself has not yet been recognized as the treasure you are?” Maedhros was now standing with his clothed chest less than an inch from Gil-Galad’s bare one, still refraining from touching. He leaned close and whispered in his son’s ear, “That is a travesty I will thoroughly make up for tonight.”

Gil-Galad shivered and turned his head to look Maedhros in the eye. Maedhros held his gaze for only a moment before leaning in still further, capturing his lips and pressing against his front.

Gil-Galad had remained soft until now, but the leather laces rubbing against his chest began to stir him. He reached for them to try and get the two of them back on equal footing, but Maedhros caught his hand.

“Lately, I am more beautiful while clothed. You are magnificent though, and I expect I’ll like what’s under your trousers even more. Take them of; I want to see all of you,” Maedhros said, backing up a few inches so Gil-Galad could have room.

Gil-Galad did. The tent was chilly, and he leaned back towards Maedhros as soon as possible. His cock brushed against Maedhros’s thigh, the leather sticking and releasing.

“You certainly get the length from me, but that curve is all Fingon. I wonder if liking your balls played with is a family trait as well.” Maedhros reached down with his right arm, the left being occupied tracing patterns on Gil-Galad’s back. Maedhros wore an odd sort of glove on the handless wrist, but he had a lot of practice and was very skillful with it. He caressed Gil-Galad’s sack, letting the leather glove drag along the sensitive skin while never pressing too hard.

Gil-Galad moaned.

“It seems so,” Maedhros said, drifting his fingers lower as his right arm maintained its place.

Gil-Galad started forward when his father’s fingers found their goal. Even one finger was more than he had ever had inside him, and he was scared of how large a cock would feel.

Maedhros said, “Deep breaths, relax and just focus on what you’re feeling right now.”

Gil-Galad let his head rest on Maedhros’s shoulder and did so, inhaling the musky scent of the leather overlaid with the oil worked in to keep it clean. It was heady.

Maedhros was starting to sweat, but he had no intention of undressing beyond what was necessary, and not until the time it was necessary. He let the sweat run down his face and into his collar as he trailed kisses across his son’s face.

Gil-Galad was practically overwhelmed with sensation. The finger inside him had found a spot that made him see stars. Every time he tried to move away his cock rubbed against the firm leather of Maedhros’s pants, or against the sleeve where Maedhro’s arm was still toying with his balls. The kisses were a light contrast, until Maedhros began kissing his lips as well.

Gil-Glad came the moment is father’s tongue parted his lips. He threw back his head and moaned. Maedhros looked sweaty but still fully dressed as if he had come in from the training yard - with the exception of a very obvious white stain on one thigh and halfway up his belly. Gil-Galad thought he could have come again from the sight alone.

“I’d say this night is off to a very good start,” Maedhros remarked, making no move to wipe away the mess.

#season of kink #incest eromenos au #fucking gil galad #this scene takes place in F.A. 555 and Gil-Galad was born in F.A. 460 #making him 95 and definitely an adult but not seen as societally mature #warning for incest advocacy by one of the characters #things that are relevant in this au: #feanor and arafinwe both married young #Feanor didn't like the association with Indis #and although the norm is only for same-gender parent and child to have sex in this au #there's some showing off that's expected between spouses #and Feanor was not going to let Indis see him naked and vulnerable #Arafinwe married young because he believes he's Finwe's least favorite son and didn't want to keep being aware how he was falling short #once you've had the fire of Feanor and the strength of Nolofinwe in your bed why would you want him? #Arafinwe wanted to avoid hearing Finwe reassure him that he was familiar and cozy #(and he was in love with Earwen and such but there's no reason they couldn't have waited a decade if he'd wanted to) #one day late but happy father's day ;) #not archived yet

[sweetteaanddragons]

You said that you went heavier on the hurt than the comfort in that fic. I know it was supposed to be an AU, but would you consider writing a second half where Elrond is exchanged for Gil-Galad? The shock on the faces of the other elves when they realize that Gil-Galad wasn't killed and that Maglor really does love the twins would be beautiful. Also, poor Elros needs his brother back. The reunion of the twins and Maglor could be the comfort. (I'm not crying over this. Ok, maybe a little.) (2/2)

Thank you for your lovely comments in your earlier ask! Here, as requested, is the second half of the AU that I originally wrote for @swirls-of-randomness in which Elrond becomes king and Gil-Galad gets kidnapped by Feanorians.

Quick note: Elros and Gil-Galad have a discussion about the situation; not all views presented therein accurately represent my own.

. . . .

Gil-Galad is not at all sure why he’s not dead yet.

It’s not a new thought. It’s one that’s been plaguing him since they handed him a crown and told him he was king. 

The other kings in exile had all died - Fingon, who had looked so impossibly strong when Gil-Galad was small, Fingolfin, who had been able to challenge Morgoth himself, even Feanor, who, whatever else everyone said about him, had at least not lacked for might.

The other kings too: Finrod, whose death he had imagined in a thousand nightmares, Turgon, whose daughter really should have been the one to take the crown, Thingol, who had attracted Melian herself . . .

He knows all their deeds, all their power, all their strength.

And he knows how they all died.

Gil-Galad has never once seen the light of the Trees. He does not have any legendary deeds to his name. He does not feel strong.

He doesn’t know why he’s not dead yet.

He can’t ask anyone that, though, of course, because even he knows that’s not the kind of thing kings say.

He asked Círdan once anyway because he can ask Círdan anything, and he still remembers the terrible grief that had swept over Círdan’s face before the older elf had pulled him close and said, “Because I am not dead yet, and they will never reach you so long as I can yet stand in their way.”

He had known intellectually, even then, that no one could make that promise. Not really.

He knows it in his heart now, because he is tied to a post in a Feanorian tent, the blood of his kin still drying on his rope-burned hands, and Círdan isn’t here.

The Feanorian lord had been badly injured, he’d seen, before he was hauled away. If he dies -

Gil-Galad is going to die. He forces himself to take away that comforting if and confront himself with it. He is going to die, and he might as well get used to it.

The tent flap opens, and he braces himself for fury, for swords, for anything. 

He does not brace himself for a boy just entering adolescence that is carrying food.

The boy looks weary past bearing, but he does his best to smile anyway. “Hello,” he says. “I’m Elros. Did you know your men stole my brother?”

. . . 

Gil-Galad learns three things in the many visits that follow:

First, that Prince Maglor is apparently recovering and expected to live after all.

(“He has to live,” Elros says the first time, fiercely. “He has to,” and Gil-Galad is not at all convinced, but with each subsequent visit Elros gets a bit lighter, and Gil-Galad slowly comes to believe with considerable relief of his own.)

Second, that there is considerable debate in the camp what to do about their new prisoner.

(“No one really wanted you,” Elros explains before smacking his forehead and saying with surprising intensity, “Of course someone wants you, that’s not what I meant at all,” and he waits before Gil-Galad nods a bemused acceptance of this before continuing on. “It’s just the people that want you are all over in your camp, and we didn’t mean to take you from them, it just sort of happened, and now we can’t decide how to get you back without getting shot at and whether or not we should ask for something when we do.”)

That we is the third thing he learns: that Elros has some very odd and somewhat concerning ideas about who constitutes that we and exactly who was stolen from whom.

(“Of course we were stolen,” Elros says, frowning, “but that doesn’t mean it was alright for you to try to steal us, anymore than it was alright for them to try to steal those stupid gems from Sirion just because the gems were stolen from them first. Stealing is stealing.”

“That’s not how the law works,” Gil-Galad tells him. “And my men weren’t trying to steal your brother from you, they were trying to save him.”

“Stealing is stealing,” Elros says stubbornly, and he sits there and glares until Gil-Galad allows the subject to drop.)

. . .

He doesn’t try to convince Elros to let him go so that they can run away together because a) he’s almost entirely certain they’d be caught before they left camp, b) it would take a miracle for the two of them to survive the trip to the Isle of Balar alone, and c) he’s nearly positive Elros would refuse point blank.

That does not quite stop him from wishing he’d tried it when a man with faint scars still covering his face and missing one hand entirely enters the tent.

“Prince Maedhros,” he says, and he’s proud that his voice does not shake and that he sounds like the king he spends most of his time thinking he is only pretending to be.

“Cousin,” the prince returns, irony not quite covering the pain and bone deep exhaustion all too evident in his voice. “You’ll be pleased to know that Maglor is well on his way to a full recovery.”

Gil-Galad is pleased, both for the obvious reason and for Elros’s sake, so he’s able to say so quite sincerely.

Maedhros looks at him, a little surprised, and in the silence that follows, Gil-Galad can’t quite refrain from blurting out, “So now what?”

Maedhros looks at him for a long moment and says, in a voice now entirely void of all emotion, “So now we can spare the men to escort you and Elros back to your home.”

Gil-Galad’s second thought, after disbelieving relief, is, “Have you told Elros that yet?”

Maedhros leaves without answering, but that doesn’t matter.

Gil-Galad already knows that the answer is no.

. . .

It was a good plan, Gil-Galad thinks in all fairness. A generous plan, even, since the Feanorians weren’t supposed to get anything out of it. It was just a slow progression of the hostages - Gil-Galad, who still can’t quite believe this is happening, and Elros, who is refusing to speak to either Gil-Galad or Maedhros - between the two sides.

Except halfway across the field, someone suddenly breaks off from Gil-Galad’s side and takes off running towards them. Gil-Galad looks sharply to the archers, fearful that hostilities may be about to break out, but it is just one small form that he abruptly realizes must be Elrond.

Elrond, who grabs his brother’s hand and takes off running with him, the movement so smooth that it’s like the two of them have been planning this.

They are running towards the Feanorian side.

He should stop them, he thinks, but he can’t, not without shattering the fragile balance already teetering on the edge of violence.

Instead, he walks forward.

Círdan is there the moment he’s in range, and though they’re both careful to preserve the dignity necessary for such a public moment, surely there can be no harm in an embrace.

Círdan holds on just a little too tightly, and Gil-Galad presses that memory into his mind, to keep and hold onto when he inevitably lets go.

“I thought we’d lost you,” Círdan says hoarsely as he steps back.

“So had I,” he admits, finally daring to look back across the field. “We did lose them,” he says, and his heart aches for the little boys who refuse to be stolen twice.

But Círdan has an odd look on his face. “Maybe,” is all he says, and he keeps a hand on Gil-Galad’s back as they turn to walk away.

. . .

(Maglor weeps when he sees them, and Elrond isn’t sure if they’re sad or happy tears.

“I’m sorry,” he says helplessly, feeling his own tears well up at last.

“You have nothing to be sorry for,” Maglor says fiercely. “Not to me. Not ever,” and he opens his arms a little: always an offer, never a demand.

Elrond burrows into them immediately, gently as he can after he feels Maglor’s silent flinch. Elros is right there next to him in the embrace, and for the first time in weeks, Elrond doesn’t feel that horrible blankness hovering anywhere near him at all.)

#gil-galad #silmarillion #first age #elros #elrond #cirdan #maedhros #maglor #fic #prompted fic

[fanfichideout]

Chapter Two - The Floating Hat

“Gah…!!!” Misthel exclaims loudly in frustration after she discovers that they just passed the same silly big rock, that they had already passed nine times now! Nyzz sighs tiredly at Misthels sudden outburst and climbs up on the big rock. 

Nyzz’s height didn’t make it any easier for her… she couldn’t see or spot anything up there…except for those tall trees blocking the view. Nyzz lets out a defeated sigh and slides slowly down the rock, and is now leaning her back against it in a resting position. While Misthel keeps muttering frustrated to herself. 

Nyzz is about to fall asleep, when Misthel suddenly hears something rummage nearby and pulls Nyzz up on her feet and gestures to her with a silent hand movement, that she should stay close by. Nyzz tiredly fights to keep her eyes from closing and rubs them repeatedly with her tiny hands. 

Misthel  wants to get closer to the source of the sounds and pulls Nyzz with her once again. Making Nyzz grumble a bit annoyed at Misthels sudden need to explore further into the forest. 

Suddenly Misthel halts, causing Nyzz to almost trip by the shift. There between the trees, on the other side of the thickly grown bushes is a…. floating hat? Misthel is immediately intrigued and throwing all caution to the wind, not to mention forgetting about the fact it could be dangerous, rushes after it! 

Nyzz is sure that if Misthel keeps this up, her arm will be ripped out of its socket! Luckily in her hurry to catch up, Misthels grip loosens and Nyzz’s arm is free! Not that Nyzz had much time to enjoy this seeing as Misthel is rushing off, ducking and jumping over any obstical in her way…. How in the world is this clumsy, reckless elf suddenly so graceful?! Normally she would have ended up face first in a bush or running into a tree! Nyzz thinks to herself, as she tries to stretch out her arm after being dragged a few miles. 

Finally Misthel catches up to the hat, there is now only some thick bushes between them. Nyzz catches up and walks over calmly only to see Misthel on top of a fallen tree trunk, on her toes, stretching in an attempt to grab the hat from over the tall bushes. This plan quickly fails as Nyzz lets out a loud yawn, catching not only Misthels attention as she falls back landing on her ass, but it seemed to also have stopped the magical hat in its tracks. Misthel and Nyzz looks between the hat and each other, not really sure what their next move should be, however Mistel soon realises that this is her chance and quickly jumps through the bush, grabbing the hat and holding it up in victory! 

Nyzz cautiously walks after Misthel, nervous of what mess the elf had caused now. Nyzz then looks up to see an elderly man in grey robes looking shocked between her and the female elf who was now……… doing what appears to be a victory dance? While she is holding the hat tightly in her grip. Nyzz is both amused and slightly embarrassed of the scene happening before her. 

The elderly man lets out a forced cough, catching Misthel off guard and causing her to freeze on the spot for a few seconds, before she turns around to face the two. Misthel attempts hurriedly to hide the hat behind her back, even though they not only knew she had it, but they could also see it poking out from behind her on both sides.

Much to Misthels disappointment, Nyzz somehow convinces her to return the hat to its owner. “I’m still believe I should keep it! After all i did find it!” Misthel claims as she hands it back to the elderly man, who now stands in front of her. “Perhaps, but you did happen to find it on top of my head!” the elderly man says with a slightly amused undertone. “Allow me to introduce myself, I am Gandalf the Grey! Now if you don’t mind me asking, what could two young ladies such as yourselves be doing out here in the woods?” The elderly man, whose name apparently is Gandalf, asks them kindly. 

As Nyzz opens her mouth to answer she is stopped by a hand covering her face “ Don’t answer that Nyzz! It might be a trick!” Misthel tells her before letting go of her petite face. “Listen old man! How do we know we can trust you? We are not telling you our names or anything until you prove you're trustworthy!” Misthel exclaims to the old man, not even realizing she just indirectly told him Nyzz’s name. Nyzz however looks unimpressed and shakes her head at the foolish elf. Gandalf lets out a low chuckle as he looks between the two, he does recognise the young elf as the daughter of an old friend, although the small woman besides her was new to him, but something about her seems familiar...

“You truly are Lord Elrond’ daughter!” Gandalf laughs and Misthel’s face gets slightly paler, if that's even possible, at the mention of her ada. “Y-you know my ada?....wait you know who i am?!” She questions him. “Most people who have traveled the realms of the elves have heard of Elrond's youngest.” He explains still highly amused. “Is this because I’m shorter than the other elves?! Because for your information I could still grow old man!” Misthel yells in her defence, even though, both of them knew there was no chance of that happening.

“Never mind that, now what is you and your friend doing wandering out here in the forest? I can’t imagine your father being very happy with all of this… or perhaps he does not know?” Gandalf questions slightly annoyed at the nickname, and clearly already knowing how her father feels about her being outside Rivendell, especially without supervision.

“Well first i was in a carriage, because ada banned me from trying to ride a horse due to an incident that happened when I was small, anyways then we got attacked by these ugly, big, gross and nasty orcs that the guards chased after. Then the one who was left to protect me ended up being asleep on the ground, completely unrelated to the fact, that I hit him with the door, so then I had noone and nothing to protect me. The only logical thing then was to hide in the forest, which was also kinda gross with all those large and nasty bugs, then i saw something shiny and ended up in this dark cave! There I found this crystal made of ice, and of course I did the only logical thing ever!” Misthel explains hurriedly, as she makes a lot of hand gesturing during her ramble … not noticing Nyzz and Gandalf just standing a safe distance away to avoid getting hit, staring at her with blank expressions on their faces.

“I poked it! And suddenly... I’m blinded by light! And once i regained my sight, as you know elfs eyes are pretty sensitive, there was a tiny person!” Misthel’s ramble is paused for a second as she pulls Nyzz infront of her, which made Nyzz let out a tiny squeak - clearly unprepared.

“I didn't know what she was and she didn't know what she was? It was very odd! But then I realised she HAS to be a hobbit, therefore I named her, cause she didn't have a name label on her! Like your parents put on their children..., you know?” Misthel says as she looks questionly at Gandalf before she continues, not letting anyone else getting a chance to interrupt her. 

“My ada still does it because he’s convinced I’ll wander off…. which I do... but still!” Misthel said slightly embarrassed by the sudden topic and tries to shake it off with a certain haste.  

“Anyways I named her and now we were... well, we are... on our way towards the shire! You see my ada told me that's where hobbits live! So I thought it would be a great place to start and see if anyone is looking for her there!” Misthel finally finishes the long ramble looking excitedly at the wizard.

“Seems like quite the adventure the two of you are on then, I myself was on my way to the shire just now!” Gandalf comments as he starts to smoke on his pipe. “Do you think we can travel with you then? I’m pretty sure we were going in the opposite direction, before Misthel here... started to follow your hat.” Nyzz asks looking hopefully at Gandalf, no longer trusting Misthel to lead them in the right direction...or letting the silly elf forget their goal within an hour to rush off after something else... that might end up being their death...

“Wait! Old man, you wouldn’t happen to know her, would you?! And if neither you nor anyone in the shire are looking for her, do you think I can keep her? After all I WAS the one who found her!” Misthel asks, which only causes Gandalf to look at her weirdly, and sigh at the nickname that once again appears. He isn’t THAT old! He thinks to himself and tries his best to hide his annoyance. 

“I’m afraid this young lady and I haven’t met before today...” He says before turning to Nyzz “And I certainly wouldn’t mind the company on this journey!” He tells her, which causes Nyzz to sigh shortly in relief and then beam with joy, which makes Gandalf chuckle at the sight before getting interrupted by a certain elf...

  “In that case let’s continue!” Misthel exclaims happily and starts walking….. in the direction of which Gandalf just came from. After a few meters, she realises that she can’t hear the others following her…? She then looks back over her shoulder to see them, still standing in the same spot, just staring at her…

“What...?” She asks a bit confused over their passive behavior. “I’m afraid the Shire is in this direction.” Gandalf explains and points in the opposite direction. “No! It is not! It's this way! …Just ask Nyzz! I’m great at leading people the right way!” Misthel says, looking at Nyzz for backup, but Nyzz just avoids eye contact, not wanting to hurt the elfs feelings but also unable to agree with the preposterous statement.

“You know what? Fine! But the two of you better not come crying to me! When you end up getting us lost old man!” Misthel grumbles clearly provoked, before she walks past them in the right direction. Nyzz and Gandalf shares an amused and slightly worried look before accompanying the stubborn elf...

____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

                                 !❤ ! (>’o’)>”Bootylicious”<(’o’<) !❤! 

____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

And the adventure is slowly starting, be excited for the next part! We are ;)

#the hobbit #thorin oakenshield #dwalin #fanfic

[blankdblank]

Long Live Pt 4

@lilith15000

For the next day you traveled with Aragorn on your back softly joining Glorfindel on singing Yavanna and Aule’s tale of their union. It wasn’t until you broke for lunch that you had found a small stream, one of the few free from enchantment to bathe and change. With a soft smile you combed through your hair now draped over your left shoulder munching on a slice of what was left of your last orange you had been brought by Chester’s brood. The rest sat on your curled leg, the crunch of leaves on your right turned your head from the Men and Aragorn bathing to the approaching white stag eyeing your orange curiously.

A soft giggle later and you were on your feet with orange slice in your open palm the pale giant approached to accept with wiggling ears, when its eyes locked with yours again you peered up at him gently rubbing the ridge to his snout softly asking, “I bet you don’t see a lot of oranges, hmm?”

A tap of his snout to your palm later you had given him the last few slices then watched him turn back to his own wandering once his lips parted leaving the orange seeds in your open palm. Through a soft giggle you promised, “I will make sure to plant these along the way for you.”

Heavily beside you once you had reclaimed your spot on the fallen log, Thorin and Dwalin both settled eyeing your hair longingly, both already feeling the silky shimmering curls between their fingers in adding courting beads to your hair one day. Layer by layer they added their shirts smirking at the adjustments you made to their sleeves beside you before brushing your curls back and beginning to work it into a long braid with Aragorn’s help. Shouldering your belongings you continued the path beginning to hum again while Aragorn attempted to sing the entire song of Beren and Luthien, staggeringly atop your shoulders he eyed the treetops while he recited the words until you reached a fallen log stretching across an enchanted stream.

Peering at the Company you eyed Thorin asking, “I don’t suppose you can jump that far?”

Thorin smirked as Dwalin shook his head and growled, “No, and no one is tossing us across either.”

You giggled softly and eyed Bilbo on his approach to the fallen log before he glanced back at Glorfindel on his approaching the Hobbit. With a gentle smile he lowered offering him his back and carried him across the log. Raised brows and stubborn harrumphs from the Dwarves followed in silent disapproval of the notion of being carried across.

In a lean down at Thorin and Dwalin scowling on either side of you, a smirk eased across your lips that were quickly pressed to their cheeks breaking through their scowls that melted into dopey smiles. Their distracted states granted you the time to loop your arms around their backs instantly making them cling to you on your quick teeter across the log. On the other side they stood silently uncertain if they should be upset or not but eventually they slipped back into love struck grins at your second pecks on their other cheeks.

Raising your arms you set Aragorn down then followed Glorfindel on the other side, pair by pair you carried the Dwarves across. The elders a bit sheepish but praising your discrete hold and short crossing returning them to their prideful place on the ground where the Princes all but leapt into your arms giddily and Ori clung mercilessly to Glorfindel while Nori claimed the chance to get a better look at the hilt of his blades strapped across his back. All until Bombur stood sheepishly alone on the other side peering at the both of you.

Glorfindel held in his chuckle lowering accepting his arms around his neck while you held him steady from behind for the trip over where the group grinned at the complete group together again. A few steps later you were sandwiched by Thorin and Dwalin while Boromir and Faramir teetered across the log, refusing to be carried only to grin as Aragorn clambered onto Faramir’s shoulders. In your turn to face the path again the pair around you lifted up claiming their own pecks on your cheeks making you chuckle to yourself and join them in resuming the path onward with beaming grins taking your affection as a hint of nearing accepting their offers of courtship.

.

Through to lunch the Princes bounded around you and their Uncles asking you every question they could think of. Ending with Kili asking, “They couldn’t make you regent at least?”

Fili nodded, “Yes, you are his Sister after all.”

Peering at him you stated, “The Nobles refused to accept my place as Regent.”

At the back of the line Gloin growled out, “For all rights you should be Queen!”

Oin nodded, “Aye, first in line first to the crown!”

Bofur translated Bifur’s signing, “A gown doesn’t make a difference in ruling. You’ve got a fine set of armor and pants for traveling.”

Balin, “No doubt you’re far more studied than the Steward.”

Boromir chuckled catching their glance up at the Brothers before stating, “If things have escalated in our absence no doubt a great number of civilians and warriors would have earned her that right.”

Faramir chuckled, “Thousands of angry residents are hard to ignore. No doubt the servants alone would be making the Nobles’ lives hell if they put their minds to it.”

You smirked only to tilt your eyes upwards at a distant rustling. Behind you Glorfindel tapped your mind stating, “The outer guards.”

Looking forward again you watched scattered reddened leaves falling from the greening canopy above. Not long after you set up camp and enjoyed the stew Bombur and Bilbo prepared only to stare blankly at the canteen that fell in the middle of camp right in front of you. All of you looked up only to catch a brunette Elf who was locked in place staring at you, a flinching wave later you spotted another Elf approaching him and dragging him back to his post to alert them of your group once he had caught the canteen Bilbo had chucked up to him.

Lunch was finished, cleared up with the utensils and cookware put away freeing you to continue the path. A few miles deeper you eyed another band of guards on foot ready to greet and escort you the final stretch of the way. A single glance over your Company left you and the tall Brothers behind you the main focus of attention before they spotted Aragorn climbing from Faramir’s hip to Glorfindel’s shoulders to get a better look. With a bow of their heads they turned after greeting the familiar Lord Glorfindel, quietly you followed them taking in the details on the wall and massive doors on the other side of a small bridge ahead of you. Through a set of guards, whose eyes lingered on you curiously once they bowed their heads and followed your path until the doors closed freeing them to turn back to the forest shifting in the sunlight discarding its reddened leaves freeing the branches to bud again.

.

Voices carried through the throne room as a band of servants bearing choices for the final touches on the upcoming celebration only to fall silent when the doors opened. At the base of his throne the King turned to look over his visitors, curious to see Aragorn but not you, as Glorfindel had stepped in front of you. In a flat voice while eyeing the Gondorian Brothers in the group he stated, “Thorin Oakenshield, I am pleased to see you well after all these years.” In his climb down the King eyed Aragorn and bent to accept his hug and raised him to his hip with a soft smile, asking in Gondorian, “Just how did you enjoy your trip in young Prince?”

Aragorn chuckled saying, “It was a long walk, not much for decorations.”

Thranduil chuckled stating, “I will see what I can do.”

His eyes turned back to Thorin as he stated, “We are grateful to have been granted entrance into your lands King Thranduil.”

Thranduil replied, “Of course, after your travels you must be tired.” He motioned his hand towards the door on his right, “My guards will show you to your rooms until dinner. For now I would speak with Lord Glorfindel and the Sons of Denethor-.” The hands folding over Glorfindel’s shoulder broke his words and drew his eyes to you in your tip toed stance peeking over the Elf’s shoulders as he tried to keep you from the King’s sight. Just the glimpse of purple eyes above his shoulder held his gaze while the Dwarves and Bilbo gladly followed the guards to get some well needed rest, when alone his body turned fully as he asked Glorfindel, “Glorfindel, for what reason are you shielding the Princess behind you.”

Glorfindel grinned at him stating plainly, “You know as well as I, all High Born Nobles are to be announced fully before any Royal is allowed to converse with them.”

Thranduil bowed his head then stated in Doriathian, “Elrond’s rebirth announcement was truthful then. I shall write to Celeborn, he should like to see his ward again.”

Glorfindel stated when Legolas stepped over to his Father’s side accepting Aragorn’s hug with a low chuckle, “King Thranduil it is my honor to present Princess Jaqiearae Irissë, Daughter of Arathorn, Reborn of High Born Princess of the Noldo, Aredhel Ar-Feiniel, Daughter of Finglolfin.” Behind Glorfndel at his hand reaching back to guide you out, you stepped to his side lowering to your normal height peering up at the King with a soft smile you watched his expression shift into one of a deep seeded longing as his eyes scanned over your now pointed ears and soft glow.

His head bowed to you again and was about to speak to you as Aragorn said, “Sisi has Elf ears now.”

Thranduil smiled at him then glanced at you again, switching to Silvan,“It is an honor Princess to finally have the chance to give you a tour of my Kingdom. It is my great hope you find it as homely as Lothlorien has been for you.”

With a smirk you replied, “That depends entirely on how likely you are to lock me away at the slightest hint of my wandering.”

The answering glint in his eyes grew at his reply, “I would not dare lock you away.” His hand motioned and he grinned, “Would you like a tour, or are you tired?”

The smile on your face held, “For a few months now I can go weeks without sleeping. A tour would be lovely.”

He nodded his head and led you through the door on his left to begin the tour as a group of servants gladly arrived to claim your shield and bags to take up to your rooms with respectful bows of their heads. Along the first walkway you took an extra step closer to Legolas drawing his eye to you with a growing grin on your face as you asked, “I take it I’ve stolen your place as the youngest around here?”

Legolas chuckled weakly stating, “If we are going by your mortal years then yes, if not you would be considered near Ada’s age, equally as interesting.” He chuckled again, “We hope to have you here a long time.”

You giggled softly feeling the King’s eyes shifting to you again, “Now that depends entirely on how welcoming the Dwarves are I imagine.”

Thranduil, “You mean to live with them?”

Grinning up at the King you answered, “King Thorin kindly offered to grant me a stay in Erebor.”

Legolas, “You cannot be serious.”

You grinned up at him, “If you mean for Smaug, I have a few ideas.” The eyes of the puffing up King and Prince fell on you again protectively making you giggle again, “No need to puff up, you’ll spoil your mood for the party.”

A grin smoothed onto the King’s face as he stated, “That certainly wouldn’t be possible with you here to celebrate it.” Making sure to grin at you for a few moments before Aragorn called his attention back to him.

.

By nightfall you had bathed and changed into a gifted white and silver paneled gown in velvet accented with shimmering gems at the neckline and waist, with sleeves to your elbows and a low dip across your chest revealing your Father’s ring. Over your long curls sat a simple silver gem coated circlet you were cornered into wearing by Prince Legolas and Tauriel. At the tall window in the Royal dining hall you eyed the Lonely Mountain in the distance glittering under the moonlight, around you the Dwarves all gathered sharing awed smiles. Two thick hands planted on your upper back making the freshly arrived Elf King’s stomach clench before he drew your attention from the mountain Thorin and Dwalin were sharing promises of what they would show you when it was freed.

Around the large table you sat listening to the stories of the fallen Kingdoms with a settled smile sipping on your peach wine until the doors opened and a messenger hurried inside. He rushed over to the King bowing his head before leaning in sharing his message making the King peer directly at you stating plainly, “It appears a legion of Gondorian soldiers escorting a long line of caravans are passing through my inner borders.”

Your lips parted, “Why would they come here?”

Thranduil chuckled rising to his feet stating, “The Eagles most likely. Celeborn has been in uproar since hearing of your leaving Gondor. No doubt he will be along by morning as well.” Beside you he offered you his palm helping you to your feet, “They are asking for their Queen.” He stated with a smile.

You rolled your eyes, “Oh good, The Council should be pleased.”

Boromir chuckled leading Faramir and the others to follow after you both stating, “Not likely they will have a choice.”

When you had finally reached the front gates you spied the seemingly endless line of soldiers who all bowed deeply at the waist while their Captain approached with hands extended bearing your Father’s crown greeting you in Gondorian, “My Queen, we have traveled to fulfill our oaths in honoring the heir to the Throne of Gondor.”

Upon his rising his eyes, along with those of the others scanned over you especially your ears making you chuckle to yourself and state, “It seems my Elven line has shown through since my departure.”

The Captain’s grin grew as he stated, “I always did suspect your Mother of tucking back her ears deliberately.” Making you giggle then peer up at Thranduil who earned a bow of their heads through his stating, “Welcome to Greenwood. We will find you all food and rooms to rest after your travels, quite opportune timing, our annual Feast of Starlight is in a couple days, you are all welcome.”

The Captain’s eyes turned to you again and you asked, “How many are left defending Gondor?”

He grinned replying, “Pray do not worry, My Queen. We’ve left two thirds of our forces there, cast out the unloyal Lords and Duke Grenn has ensured to keep your presence known in all future meetings. Gondor is well defended, we would not abandon your territories. Plus, we bring great news, Mordor has collapsed to rubble, it has been scouted and King Thengel proposed splitting what can be scavenged from it. But of course all that can wait.” His eyes lowered to Thorin beside you, “Also, we found a Dwarf in the old keep we passed along the way, fairly rough shape, should manage through with proper healing.”

Thranduil nodded, “My healers will see to him.” You parted and the masses were show inside, filling the outer guest homes at the base of the trees in the inner circle of the forest around the Mountain carved Palace as well as the lowest guest rooms for the Women and Children who were all glad to have a place to bathe and rest after the long trip. With crown in hand you watched the line pass you entering the gates until the final wagon had entered allowing the gates to close. Off the third wagon you moved closer peering over the side at the cot being raised out bringing the muttering worn Dwarf off the wagon instantly drawing the Durins to him naming him as the lost wandering Prince Thrain.

Instantly healers gathered around him and you accepted Thranduil’s offered palm when he said, “We should finish eating.” You nodded joining him for the walk back to the dining hall where you took your seat back feeling the weight of the crown on your lap as the Brothers helped to settle the Gondorians who were all more than thrilled to see them again and hear about your travels so far. Alone in the room with the King you eyed the painting along the wall sipping on your wine trying not to smirk making his brow rise before he glanced at the painting of a large tree surrounded by herds of horses. “Is something amusing about that painting?”

With a smirk at him you set down your glass stating, “I remember seeing that being painted, though it was blue at the time.” His brow ticked higher remembering the day when his Mother painted it, a day Princess Aredhel had come to their shop with her younger Brother. “I’ve been remembering my first life since I entered your forest.”

Instantly his breath caught in his throat as a flicker of hope flashed in his eyes, “You have?”

You nodded, “I always knew you had a passion for poetry.” Instantly his lips parted and he raised his glass to take a sip of his own wine, “I am surprised you haven’t mentioned it before.”

“I am not certain Celeborn would have been pleased for me to touch on such an intimate topic.”

You giggled softly filling your fork again, “Of course, how could I forget, the only person more protective of my heart and hand would be Celeborn.”

With a hint of a smirk he stated, “Yes, he had to ensure I would not steal you away.”

With an amused twitch of your brow through you swallowing your mouthful you stated, “Tread carefully, with a crown comes certain expectations towards heirs, someone might take your teasing seriously and expect something of it. Or worse, I might just accept it.”

His lips parted only to shut when Legolas joined you again while the Bur and Ri Brothers along with Bilbo returned to the meal with Aragorn on Glorfindel’s back returning to their seats beside you. Nipping at his lip Aragorn reached over grabbing the crown and sat on the arm of your chair. Softly you giggled as Glorfindel removed your circlet so your Brother could add your crown making him chuckle then take his seat again allowing you to steal another glance at the stunned King staring at his plate while he filled his fork making you smirk. When the plates were cleared you carried Aragorn to bed leaving the King with a bow of your head he hastily returned only to watch you until you were out of sight.

With your Brother in bed you exited the Royal Wing and found the healing wing by following the deep throated humming of the Durins. In the doorway you paused for a moment seeing Thorin gently combing his Father’s freshly washed hair while Dwalin propped him up through that and the braid he worked it into. When he secured it his head turned and he grinned extending his palm welcoming you to join them, you flashed a weak smile and crossed the room to them and sat beside Balin eyeing the lost Prince already in a much better state you asked, “How is he?”

Thorin smiled saying, “He is missing half a finger, and a great deal of his bulk, but that is easily mended once Amad and Gran arrive.” His eyes traveled upwards and he smirked, “It suits you.”

You rolled your eyes, “Oh yes, how did I get my throne? My Father’s subjects overthrew the Lords and claimed the city in my name.”

The Dwarves chuckled and Dwalin asked, “Where do you imagine they’ve gone to? The cast out Lords?”

“Obviously not Rohan, they would never agree to house them.”

Balin, “You’re certain?”

You nodded, “Men of Rohan pride themselves in honesty. The Nobles willing to cast me aside pride themselves in their double sided ventures, also, they had an unfortunate time on a hunting trip on our last visit. Any willing to whip a horse has no place in their lands. They are to be treasured, like your kin treasure your Ravens and mine with Eagles.”

Thorin smirked rumbling out, “Good. The less struggle against your rule the better.”

Dwalin, “No doubt when we have Erebor back.”

Gloin, “Dain should be here soon enough after the letter we sent off earlier.”

Through the night you sat up with them until they went to bed leaving you to went out to one of the gardens finding a small opening you laid on your back in staring up at the stars, soon to be joined by Glorfindel and Legolas. Up in the King’s Apartment more pacing steps were taken by the King while his mind raced over what you had said and what the pair of Dwarves could possibly expect from you. Once again he could be watching you leave yet again, off to where he could not follow, if anything was to be done he had to do it now, but your age lingered in his mind. Even with an Elven form now barely forty left you far too young for an acceptable union for his kin, so he paced and paced thinking of what to do.

..

Nearly a week you sat through the prepping for the celebration and the extravagant affair itself, dressed immaculately under the King’s doing once the Elven Lords Elrond, his family and Celeborn arrived fully relieved to see you and more than eager to learn about all the details of your Journey. But the day came when you would leave these woods to test yourselves against the fabled Fire Drake. Cloaked in your traveling layers covering your mithril pants and shirt, before you gripped your armored chest plate Celebron had brought you only to turn at the knock on your door. Plainly you called out, “Come in.”

The door opened and Thranduil peered inside checking each room of your apartment until he found you in your bedroom and approached you with an anxious smile. Wetting his lips he helped you add the chest plate and passed you your shield you draped across your back before adding the arm braces from your bed. Looking him and his armor over you asked, “Everything in order?”

He nodded, “Yes. In fact, I wished to ask you something.”

After another glance at his hair through tightening the bands on your other arm brace, “Of course, ask anything.”

He wet his lips again inching closer to you holding out a clear amber coated gem with a bluebell inside on a woven band for a ring he eased into your extended palm as you tightened the last band on your arm brace, “I would like to request to remain close to you.”

Your eyes met his and you answered, “I accept.”

Inching closer to you he said, “I wish for you to understand fully.”

“You are offering a courtship until I am old enough to marry by Elven Standards.”

He nodded, “Yes.”

“I accept.”

He smiled and raised his free hand exposing a simple chain with looped sections draping from it scattered with purple sapphires he added your ring to and looped around your neck and tucked it under your chest plate gingerly. When he drew his hands back you claimed one of them drawing out his smile as he followed you to your bag where you drew out a simple silver ribbon and moved around him after nudging him onto the bench at the vanity. Lowly he chuckled as you stated rhetorically, “When will you Lords learn about your hair?” You drew his hair back tying the ribbon into a section after he removed his circlet, smirking as you worked a long fishtail braid you secured with the excess ribbon at the end “There. Now try to not let anyone drag you around by it.”

He chuckled lowly again and turned peering up at you as you added his circlet again then paused as he stated, “I do understand you must marry. My offer does not forbid it. I will gladly watch your Children grow and aid you in protecting and training young Aragorn.”

“You are certain?”

He nodded, “Thorin and Dwalin are honorable, they will ensure your happiness for as long as they have you, and when you are ready, simply, let me know. Should, however, you change your mind, I would not enforce any union between us, simply wish to be close to you.”

Timidly his gaze left yours giving you the chance to lean in and kiss his cheek while cupping the other forcing his eyes shut. When they opened again he stood as your hand left his cheek smiling at you through his claiming your hand to kiss your knuckles, holding his adoring smile through a gentle stroke of the backs of your fingers. A knock at your door broke your moment up and drew you into the main hall with the armed Company and Elf Lords joining you on the walk to the front gates where your mounted forces mingled with the Elven forces while you climbed on your steeds Elrond had delivered. All stealing one last glance at Bilbo holding Aragorn’s hand in the entrance before you turned away.

…

At the edge of the forest your forces waited while the slightly put aback Elf Lords followed you across the open plains to the ruins of Dale. In the ruined city you dismounted at the gate with Lord Celeborn following you closely asking in Quenya, “What is your plan?”

Wetting your lips you stated vaguely, “I had a thought…”

Tilting his head to peer at you in your peek around a corner he asked, “Yes?”

You glanced up at him and said, “I’m looking for something.”

Elrond asked, “For what exactly?”

Turning back to a ruined building, “I will know when I see it.”

Behind you the Elf Lords all gestured behind your back silently trading mouthed comments of irritation at the lack of planning and wonder at why Gandalf had put you in charge of. Their pause had given you the time to enter the empty ash coated and burned courtyard with shriveled playground in the center.

Nipping at your lip you entered it alone as the men bickered between themselves, timidly Fili joined you in your eyeing the surroundings. His eyes sank to you when you and your tilted head signaled your drop to your knees to reach for a long rod you spotted underneath it, a limited tug on the stuck rod brought him to his knees to help you grip the rod for a second timed tug. With a grunt he glanced back to Kili, already racing over to grab the other end of the rod on your left, propping his foot on the base of the carousel helping to finally free the rod in the tug that sent you onto your backs.

Softly you chuckled and raised the rod, revealed to be a dulled black arrow that had ricocheted off Smaug’s scales, for the Lords and Company to see with amused grins that dropped at the distant loud creak. All at once you all eyed the opening of the Mountain gate making you and the Princes dart for a nearby shop out of sight across the courtyard from the rest of the group eyeing you three from their own hiding places with terrified gazes. Overhead a deep woosh sounded over the deep throated singing of large beasts of old roaming in these lands he once devoured and hungered for once again. Heavily he landed causing rocks to crumble down over the backs of the Princes covering you and the hiding group across the way. Wetting your lips you silently mimed your plan through silently raising the arrow to crouch through the doorway after using one of Fili’s daggers to spot Smaug’s place.

Helplessly the group watched as you trailed along the wall and pause at a walkway while Smaug’s tail whipped though it in his peering under piles of rubble for shiny trinkets he added to the small sack dangling at the base of his neck. A winding creeping path later you flinched instantly, making the other group’s eyes widen at the sudden jerk from the Dragon hearing the crunch of Kili’s boot settling on top of an ash coated sign making him close his eyes for a moment at his blunder. Wetting your lips again you glanced across to Dwalin and mimed hammering something making his brows furrow curiously only to glance at Ori behind him tugging on the twin war hammers he had earning an understanding nod from him and Thorin as they gripped the set tightly.

Instantly after a heart stopping moment of silence you heard Smaug rumble, “I can smell you thief!” your hand tightened on the arrow through your body tensing before the inevitable crash of his body landing after his rise up and turn. In the opening of the walkway a giant head with a golden eye appeared, “Your fear is betraying you Dwarf!”

A timing bob of the arrow later you and the Princes darted out gripping the arrow and jammed it into Smaug’s eye before he could dart away, loudly he cried out without chance of escape as Dwalin, then Thorin darted out driving it deeper into his skull. Around you walls crumbled at the slump and settling of his body that slowly faded into rubies and citrine gems around the clattering black arrow. Through an unsteady exhale you rested your hand on Dwalin’s shoulder as you eyed the hammers in their hands asking, “Did you crack your hammers?”

Dwalin smirked raising his with a clear split down the middle, “No worries, more in the mountain.”

With a chuckle Thorin flashed you his before the pair gripped you in a tight hug along with Fili and Kili the rest of the Company joined in on the embrace before tucking as much of the rubies and citrine gems into pouches Gandalf had enchanted. With those tucked in your pockets you took your steeds to the mountain the armies joined you along the way with Aragorn and Bilbo eagerly peering up at the mountain. At the bridge across from gates though your forces all froze at the shadows passing overhead, a giggle from you however announced the welcome arrival of the Gronkels, two Mothers and nine young ones that all eagerly joined you inside the mountain, all happily eyeing the surroundings while the Elves and Men all peered at them curiously.

Through a series of winding paths you were led to an open smaller peak at the base of the Mountain built for stables where all the steeds were left. After the soldiers the wagons followed emptying the unarmed Men, Women and Children inside that were parked freeing the masses to enter into the neighboring peak linked to a ring housing the former plots of land used for farming and orchards under the enchanted peaks appearing transparent allowing the sunlight inside.

As per your earlier agreement with Thorin, along with the Elves your Men got to work on the plots of land, tilling them with the aid of the smaller Gronkels while one of their Mothers joined Balin and Oin to the forges to light them to help with the plumbing and heating that the arriving Dwarves would see to later.

Back with the group again they joined you on the walk to the treasury. The sheer size of it brought an impressed whistle from Bilbo and the Princes while Glorfindel and Legolas chased after Aragorn in his exploring dart away. At the base of the steps your hand was claimed by Dwalin’s to help steady you in your sink into the gold while the Elf Lords sat at the top of the stairs watching the Company and Bilbo start to search.

On your left you glanced at Thorin when he asked, “I know you did offer your Men to aid in rebuilding our food supply,” You nodded, “Would you agree to them dwelling in our lower levels to continue on the production of crops and cattle to be sold in Dale. Which of course we would be splitting with them of course, for those working in other trades once we’ve rebuilt it?”

Dwalin added, “That way you could remain close along with your Men and increase your own gains and foothold here, if your Council needed something to, solidify our union?”

With a weak giggle you wrapped them each in a sideways hug making them chuckle and blush. Peering down at the gold you returned to shifting around, “It sounds like a lovely idea. No doubt you all have been itching to set up the contracts for the deal.”

Thorin chuckled rumbling out, “Balin and Gloin have been revising the contract for the past few days, which of course we will share for edits from you.”

Dwalin nodded, “Aye, and we just need the number of your Men to work out the wages per anum estimates, we will be sticking to the former wages, since Balin knows where the records all are for them solving one issue of ours.”

Fili asked, “Do you think the Elves might help us with some of their plant control to speed along the sprouts?”

“Um, I am certain we could work something out…”

You glanced back at Thranduil who smiled at you calling out in his lean back to rest against his palms behind him, “We would be honored to assist you.”

Thorin and Dwalin turned to look at him as Kili asked, “How much is that going to cost?”

Thranduil smirked glancing at you saying, “I would agree to it as long as I am free to stay in Erebor through the construction of Dale, should Queen Jaqiearae choose to stay here. After it is complete I would also wish to have extensive visits should her home not be in Dale but inside the Mountain.”

Thorin shifted with furrowed brows asking in a low growl, “Just what are your intentions for such extended stays?”

Thranduil blinked stunned at having to explain, “I served her family, in her former life in Doriath, I wish to return to pampering her Majesty to her full rank.” Dwalin’s lips parted, “Plus it would also grant us time to settle into our trade again and build all our Kingdoms up far beyond their former strength.”

Dwalin asked, “And if we refuse to allow you to pamper our Queen?”

Thranduil smirked replying, “Marriage contract or not the refusal of my gifts rests solely upon Queen Jaqiearae’s choosing.” The pair inhaled deeply then turned back to the gold when you had rolled your eyes and turned back to the gold hearing Thranduil call out, “Should you find a small chest with shimmering white gems inside,” you peered back at him along with the pair around you as he smirked at you playfully earning growling exhales from the pair, “Your Majesty, by all means, consider it and the necklace inside my first gift to you.”

With a smirk you shook your head turning back to the gold as Thorin mumbled with Dwalin in Khuzdul concerning gifts from the hoard around them to begin offering to you when possible. Across the keep you eyed Bilbo raising a stone, “Is this it?!”  While he sank deeper in the gold up to his waist while Bofur and Bifur tried to tug him free. A confirming nod brought out cheers from the group before Ori claimed the chest Thranduil had mentioned and carried it to the Elf King who smirked and thanked him.

When you reached the top of the stairs he showed you the necklace and said, “I have a great deal planned for the rest of the gems for you.”

With a weak chuckle you rubbed your forehead through Thorin and Dwalin starting to bring up plans for your first gifts from them making you say, “First thing first, let’s check how the living quarters are.”

Giddily Thorin added the stone to his throne and claimed your hand with a narrowed gaze up at Thranduil who gave a challenging smirk of his own even through Dwalin’s fierce scowl on their guiding you up to the Royal Floors to start cleaning with the arriving group of Elves not aiding in the replanting downstairs. By nightfall the keys had been found, gates locked, supplies had been put away and a supper had been made for a minor celebration at the start of a new alliance aiding you all signaling a new beginning for all your races in these lands.

#Thorin x Reader OC x Dwalin #Hobbit #lotr

[curufins-smile]

Best Served Cold - Chapter 2

Celegorm and Curufin are the last Fëanorians left alive, not Maedhros and Maglor. This has consequences.

Warning for descriptions of the aftermath of a massacre

-

Outside the quiet sanctuary of the room, the city is in chaos. Elrond can hear screaming, and can see smoke, and smell an awful stench he remembers from when he caught his hair on a candle, as well as what he dimly thinks might be burning flesh. There are people constantly running past, and Celegorm barks orders to several breathless elves who come up behind them to ask questions.

“It’s almost over,” Curufin says, dispassionately, and Elrond can still hear Elros crying quietly nearby and distantly realises that he is crying too.

He looks around as much as possible, taking in what he knows must be the last sights of his home. Even in his numb state, what he sees is shocking. There are bodies everywhere, lying unmoving and bloody. Stalking between them, feasting is a pack of the largest dogs Elrond has ever seen.

One of them trots up to present an unrecognisable scrap of flesh to Celegorm, who crouches down, Elros still on his shoulder, to enthusiastically pet the dog and congratulate it on its prize.

He gasps in horror as he realises it is a hand. Abruptly, his head is covered by something, and he realises Curufin has tossed his cloak over his head.

“Turco,” Curufin says, “we don’t want them traumatised any more than they have to be. Cover his head.”

Elrond is more grateful than he should be.

“Hadn’t thought about that,” says Celegorm, and Elros’ sobs are abruptly muffled. “Guess we’re a bit desensitised to this stuff now, huh?”

Elrond can see nothing now, but he is glad for it, for his other senses still work and he knows he does not want to witness the things he hears. There is still the occasional clash of swords, but mostly there is only the screams of the dying, and the sound of those awful dogs enjoying their meal. Above them, he can hear the mews of seagulls that he and Elros feed by the harbour, and he sniffles as he realises they never will again.

They are moving out of the city, Elrond thinks, and is proven right when he is set down and his makeshift blindfold is removed and they are some way away from the gates, on the grassy cliff overlooking the harbour where he and Elros liked to play occasionally.

There is thick black smoke billowing from the harbour below, and Elrond realises with a jolt that they must have burnt the ships to prevent anyone from escaping. The numbness is receding now, and the abrupt rush of emotion makes him wish for it back.

“Elrond!” Elros cries, immediately running for him once out of Celegorm’s grasp. He is grabbed instantly by the back of his tunic.

“Don’t even think about running off,” Celegorm says, smiling. “Be good, and I won’t have to hunt you down.”

Elros is dropped and seconds later, Elrond is embraced tightly. He hugs back, closing his eyes with relief. Mother may have jumped, Father may have left, but he still has Elros.

Curufin’s voice interrupts them. “If you can walk, and keep up, we will not carry you. If you cannot keep up, we will carry you again.”

Elros looks stricken at the thought of being lifted by Celegorm again, and Elrond is glad that he seemed to have the nicer of the pair.

Elrond grabs Elros’ hand tightly, and they set off after the retreating brothers. Elrond does not want to become food for Celegorm’s dogs.

The brothers approach a pyre set up on the clifftop with two bodies lying on top of it. Elrond is too small to view them, but he can see Curufin bury his face in his hands and Celegorm pull him into a hug, resting his chin on top of Curufin’s head. They are saying something again in the language that Elrond doesn’t know, and he feels a curiosity completely inappropriate to the current situation about it.

Elrond is surprised as Curufin breaks the hug and motions them over, lifting him and Elros up in turn so they can see. The elves on the pyre are red haired, like no elf Elrond has ever seen before, and their identical faces are unexpectedly peaceful. Below the neck they are covered by what must have been their cloaks and Elrond is glad for it, for they are stained dark with blood.

“They are our brothers,” Curufin says, and his voice is heavy with grief but it does not waver. “These are the fourth and fifth of our brothers to die, and now we are all that is left.”

“Is that why you’re stealing us?” Elros asks, always braver than Elrond. He keeps glancing nervously up at Celegorm, and gravitates more to the so far kinder Curufin.

“No,” Curufin says, surprised. “Why would we want you for that? Our brothers are irreplaceable and you will never be them.”

Celegorm nods in agreement. “It would be an insult to their memory to replace them with you.” He looks down at them. “You’re hostages that we plan to treat as though you were made of glass, and perhaps we’ll raise you properly. But don’t ever think you’ll be family like they were.”

Elrond swallows, then surprises himself by asking, “What were their names?”

Celegorm and Curufin exchange a glance, then Celegorm shrugs and calls over a waiting elf with a torch. He motions them to step back, before setting the flame to the pyre. As they watch the flames begin to lick at the bodies, the smoke joining the plume from the harbour, Elrond hears Curufin speak quietly.

“They were Ambarussa.”

-

By the time the pyre burns down, the remains of the Fëanorian host have assembled, and are ready to depart.

“We make for Amon Ereb,” Curufin says, before unceremoniously bundling Elrond in front of him on his horse. Elros is grabbed and hoisted up in front of Celegorm, whose horse has no saddle and no reins.

“You better hold on properly to me, kid,” Celegorm says. “She knows where she’s going, but she won’t particularly care if you get there with her.”

Elros nods shakily and grips tightly to the arm around his waist. They have never really been on horseback before. They have lived in the city their entire lives. Elrond immediately decides that he doesn’t like it. The rolling gait is like being on a ship, but without the option of standing and stretching properly.

They ride until the sun begins to set, and then stop to make camp. Elrond is surprised at the quick efficiency of the army, as there are soon many tents set up from the baggage train of sturdy horses.

Celegorm whistles for his pack of dogs and they come instantly, barking excitedly, milling around him in anticipation. He waves to Curufin, then disappears into the darkness for an hour or so before returning with several fat birds and two rabbits. He passes out his prizes to several nearby elves, saving a plump bird that Elrond does not know the name of for their own fire.

Celegorm immediately sets to quickly and professionally dressing and plucking his kill. He banters lightly back and forth with Curufin in the other language while he does it. Next to Elrond, Elros nudges him.

“Hey,” he says, in a hushed voice. “I don’t think they’re paying attention to us now.”

Elrond eyes the pair. “No, I don’t think they are. But we can’t run.”

“That’d be stupid, those dogs would have us in seconds,” Elros replies, and Elrond is relieved that he’s not trying anything stupid. “But that’s not what I want to talk about. I’m scared, Elrond.”

Elrond grabs Elros’ hand. “Don’t worry, if they haven’t killed us yet, I don’t think they will.”

Elros shakes his head. “That’s not what I’m scared about!”

He looks over at Celegorm, who is now enthusiastically rubbing some sort of herb on the plucked bird. “Remember what Mama told us?” he asks. “About the monster with silver hair?”

Elrond did remember. Mother had told them of the monster, more animal than elf, that had killed her family and forced her to flee to Sirion, where she had met their father. She was always really worried about them leaving her side, and almost never let them play alone for fear that the monster would snatch them.

“What does that have to do with anything?” Elrond asks, but in the pit of his stomach he knows.

“I think it’s him!” Elros hisses. “I’ve been so scared and it’s all I can think about. Mama is- is gone and the monster came for us!”

The sound of laughter shocks the pair of them apart, looking across guiltily at Celegorm, the source.

He grins widely. “So, that’s what she told you?” Next to him, Curufin is scribbling busily on a parchment, and doesn’t even look up. “She said I was a monster, that I’d do... what?”

Elrond swallows. “Sh-She said that if we went wandering off you’d track us down and probably kill and maybe eat us.”

Celegorm’s smile widens, and Elrond is reminded of the sharks that the fishermen sometimes would return with in the markets of Sirion. “I wouldn’t be tempted by such skinny kids anyway. And you’d give little sport, too slow to run from me.”

Elrond presses closer to Elros, who loops an arm around him protectively. Elros has always been braver when Elrond needs comfort too. Elrond remembers how frantic their mother had been when news of the approaching army. They had wanted to go and play by the waterfall that morning, but Mother had made them stay inside instead. He wonders now if it was because she knew Celegorm was coming.

“But then,” Celegorm continues, “perhaps I could make some new hair ornaments from your bones. Your fingers look like they’d be delica- ow!!”

Curufin elbows him without even looking up. “Stop scaring them. I know you think it’s hilarious, but I need them only mildly traumatised, not screaming and refusing to go near you.”

Celegorm grins, unrepentant. “You kids want some food?”

Elrond is suddenly so hungry that he has second helpings of the surprisingly delicious meat. The dogs are quiet around them now, and despite knowing that he should not be, Elrond finds himself boneless and sleepy. The exhaustion of the day is catching up with him, and Elros too judging by the yawns. They fall asleep curled together near the fire, and do not even stir as Curufin lays his cloak over them.

-

This isn’t going to be like all the fluffy dysfunctional family M+M+E+E fics. There will definitely be fluffier moments to come, but the twins seeing the aftermath of the kinslaying and also being told scary stories about Celegorm (the terror of Dior’s line) means that they will be slow to trust.

#silmarillion #tolkien #curufin #celegorm #elrond #elros #fanfic #fic #mine #gore tw #violence tw #death tw #best served cold

[aruthla]

Day 2 - Maglor : Redemption

He never stayed more than a week in the same place, constantly moving like water which travels without ever stopping. Over the centuries, he had seen the world changed, both in form and appearance, and he had met people just as different from each other. He had met saint and wise person, fighter and scholar, ignorant and idiot, assassin and murderer ... He had spoken and taught something to each of them and in return, they had spoken and taught him something else. He remembered each of these meetings, whether they were good or bad.

But the first one remained forever in his memory ...

He walked slowly, feet bruised by his long walks without a break. His clothes weren’t more than rags, standing by some miracle, and bleached by the sun. His hair, black in the past, were only a whitish mass. His blue eyes were empty of life and looked without seeing the world around him. Suddenly he toppled forward and fell into darkness.

When he woke up, he didn’t see the sand like every time he fainted. Instead, he saw wooden beams supporting a floor. Getting up slowly, he discovered a small room where a fireplace was broadcasting a gentle heat. The furnishings were simple but they possessed a small discreet charm. The bed where he lay was covered in several thick blankets presenting embroidery relatively simplistic, but pleasant to the eye. A window near the bed informed him that it was dark.

Getting free slowly from the covers, he left the comfort of his bed to resume his way. However, when his foot landed on the carpet, the door to the room opened and a man of strong stature came in.

- Oh ! You're awake ! Exclaimed the man, a huge smile devouring his face, This is going to make more than three days you sleep, we began to worry, my wife and myself! I’m called Bern, and you my friend? Asked Bern, his brown eyes sparkling with life, before frowning when he didn’t answer, Can you speak ? What I’m saying, it must be days that you didn’t drink drinking, of course you have difficulty to speaking, he muttered, don’t move, I'll get you some water and eat.

And just as quickly as it had appeared, Bern disappeared. The elf remained motionless for a moment, still under the shock from this flood of words, before trying again to get up. But again, Bern arrived with a pitcher, and accompanied by a woman with black hair holding a tray.

- Hello. Bern told me that you had difficulty to speak, so I brought you a herb tea of sage, lemon, ginger, cinnamon, mint and chamomile, as well  a little soup and a pitcher of water for the night. If you ever need anything, please come get me. In the day, I'm either in the kitchen or in the garden and Bern is in his workshop, a building just next to the house, so you can hardly missed him, especially with all the noise he makes. Oh ! I’m Lúviel by the way. We will let you rest. Good night ! Continue the woman named Lúviel without resuming once her breath during her whole tirade.

And the couple disappeared again, leaving the elf with a bowl in one hand and a cup of tea in the other one. It was at this moment he noticed that his left hand was bandaged and he was wearing clothes worthy of this naming, but also that his hair had been cut. Hesitantly, he put the cup on the bedside table and carried the bowl to his lips.

Lúviel opened quietly the door and penetrated on tiptoe into the room. The elf was asleep eyes closed, evidence of fatigue, and his pale face was marked by dark circles and hunger even after having spent the week staying in bed and be pulled out by her or her husband. On the bedside table was a cup half empty and a barely consumed bowl of soup, which drew her a pout. She took the dishes, taking care to make no noise to wake their guest, and just as quietly left the room.

- So ? Asked her husband.

- He barely touched the soup ...

- I’m going continue to watch him. Make something light for him, he can’t remain so long with an empty stomach.

- I wonder if ... She began after a pause.

- Give him time. He will eventually tell us himself, he murmured, kissing his wife who happily left again to the kitchen after acquired.

He listened for a time his wife bustled in the kitchen, then he concentrated again on their old guest whose restless sleep indicated an imminent awakening. With a leisurely pace, he went to the bathroom, great deal of ingenuity of the dwarfs, and ran a bath. Just as slowly, he returned to the room of their guest and gave a few knocks on the door before entering.

The elf was sitting on the bed, his back against the wall, distraught and pale face, wide and agitated eyes and restless and labored breathing, fixing the door as if he expected to be attacked. Keeping a smile, Bern slowly approached him, taking care to make no sudden movements and letting his hands in sight to not cause more violent reactions from their guest.

- There is a hot bath waiting for you. Come, he said kindly and gently grasping the hands of the elf, who followed him without resistance, still lost in the throes of the nightmare.

Once in the bathroom, he helped their guest to undress and to go in the bath. Little by little, the elf seemed to regain his senses. WhenBern decreed him sufficiently awake, he helped him to wash, then to dry off and to get dressed. Once all this was done, he took their guest in the kitchen, where a new cup of tea and an apple was waiting for him on the table. With a smile, Lúviel invited him to sit down and to begin to eat while she was serving her husband. When she was about to sit down, she noticed that the bandage on his left hand of the elf was about to come undone and thus left to get bandages to redo it. Seizing gently the hand of their guest, she removed the bandage and began to make a new one.

- Why…? Asked the elf, his voice hoarse from lack of use.

- I could give you an answer, but it probably will not be the one that you hope, she replied softly without leaving her work of her eyes.

- Why did you help me?

- Why not ?

- Because I don’t deserve it, he blew, eyes haunted, I have committed many crimes, too important to be forgiven! Even my death can’t buy back half of the offenses that I have caused! He yelled before his voice broke into a sob that he tried to choke.

Calmly, Lúviel took him in her arms, as we would take a child frightened by the thunder to comfort him, and began rocked him, before whispering in his ear: "I forgive you.". Then he snapped, releasing for the first time all his tears he had held over the centuries, screaming his sadness for his destroyed family , his dead brothers and all these lost and destroyed lives...

It’s with a smile that he remembered that day when he could finally begin to heal. It’s with a laugh that he remembered the long months passed with Lúviel and Bern, both acting like mother hens. It’s with a touch of sadness that he remembered the day he left. And today, it was with a free and light heart that he went towards the sea.

Sitting on the edge of the cliff, he grabs his harp, present of his father's whom Bern had repaired, and sang for the first time since he had thrown his silmaril into the sea. The music of his harp was sweet as his innocent young years spent in Valinor with his family, before taking a darker tone, a sign of the influence of false words of Morgoth on his father over the years. It was filled with lamentation when he sang the Kinslaying Alqualondë, the Doom of Mandos, the abandonment of Fingolfin and his followers in the Helcaraxë and the death of his father. He didn’t conceal any of his actions during his long centuries he had lived in Middle-earth, singing the Kinslaying of Doriath and of the Havens of Sirion. Then his music took a new note of hope when he sang these years when he took care of the twins Elrond and Elros. But soon came the darkness again in his song when he told the theft of the Silmarils with his last brother alive, who didn’t stay after this action. He spoke of his long years of wandering to sing his pain on the coast until his voice broke of fatigue. And suddenly, his singing resounded with life when he sang his meeting with Bern and Lúviel and all the other people he met thereafter. Whereas his music drew to an end, he heard the sea, silent, waiting.

Then he stood up and said:

- For a long time I carried the weight of the sins of others, without ever relieved my burden. Today I’m free from this chain because I was forgiven, but especially because I was finally able to forgive muself. I am Kanafinwë Makalaurë Maglor, second son of Fëanor Curufinwë and Nerdanel, brother of six other as brave and loyal as stupid and father of heart of Elros Tar-Minyatur and Elrond Peredhil!

At the same time he pronounced his words, the sea gave way to her joy and soon, a white bird flew for his last trip.

Same warning then yesterday. See you soon !

#feanorianweek #maglor #Probably Ulmo #I mean #He is everywhere and anywhere #as long there is water