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himikochan · 2 years

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thoughts on the costuming in rings of power?

HELLO hello I've got a lot of thoughts all over the place and they are below the cut

I wanna start with some caveats re: me and rings of power

-I am a professional costumer and I've worked with people in film/streaming/tv/etc and professionals in/out of the union but my main work is in live theater

-I am a Big Old Tolkien Nerd but have only read the Silmarillion a few times and not recently

-I am 100% on team

I am so far on Team No Hate Watching that I called up my Tolkien friends back in 2020 to debate whether we'd watch anything Amazon made for the LotR-universe and unanimously decided we wouldn't trust the universe with Amazon

so that being said, everything I've seen of Rings of Power is from the trailer and screen caps on tumblr/facebook

ALSO when I refer to the Lord of the Rings movies, I am referring to the Peter Jackson movies because I do not have the time to compare every adaption

So what I’d like to start off with is the weird trend of like... romanticized Roman/Greek and Celtic-Briton influences

(^ Gil-galad- a Noldorin)

(^ Isildur and.... Numenoreans? idk didn’t watch)

(^ Sadoc Burrows, Harfoot Hobbit)

(^Durin IV of Durin’s Folk/Khazad-dûm)

(^Disa - didn’t watch, google just says she’s a dwarf)

A lot of these costumes are distinctly referencing what we think of as classical Greek/Roman and Celtic-Briton clothes (note: “actual” clothes for Greeks, Romans, and Celtic-Britons were different- and I think it’s important to make the distinction between historical garb and the way it’s been stylized in the last 100 years).

Greek/Roman Influences: the stylized wreath crown, the way they’ve draped most of the cloths into chiton, peplos, himation, and chlamys, the broad swaths of unadorned/untextured fabrics

Celtic-Briton-ish-ish Influences: I’m feeling this in the dye palette they chose which yes I know isn’t super-duper location specific but these colors look very derived from woad, madder, weld, lichen, and gall nuts which have usually been available in the isles, tell me Durin’s crown doesn’t you of the Waterloo Bridge Helmet, the studded armor is kind of ahistorical but frequently dramatized for Celtic-Britons, here just pop around this article (Celtic Clothing: Bronze Age to the Sixth Century) and I think you’ll get what I mean

I guess that’s a choice to make it seem “earlier” than the other Tolkien movies we’ve seen lately, but carries across the different groups it seems too bland/similar across it all for me. Without getting too deep, these folx are from different ethnic groups/races and it’s kind of weird their clothes don’t seem more distanced from each other (they hail from Aman, Numenor, the Shire/Eriador, and Khazad-dûm/Misty Mountains).

But maybe more importantly I think it’s pretty weird they didn’t push the design more in an art nouveau/pre-raphaelite direction: considering that both of those design philosophies fit in much more neatly with Tolkien’s work and what he emphasized in his descriptions. Both lean more towards figures that are nestled in the natural world and emphasize the beauty of organic curves and a world a little more intense (especially in color) that ours is. Gil-Galad’s cloak does have a watery drape which is nice but the lines of his cross belt, color palette, and the brooches overwhelmingly read more imperial Roman than Tolkien character.

All of this makes Galadrial’s armor so much more... dissonant with the rest of the costuming. Her cuirass/mail combo reads so much more aggressively modern than the rest of it- even more modern than the armor of Lord of the Rings (which, admittedly had similar plate/mail combos but leaned more into a faux-medieval stylization). Also, to be nit picky, I think the lack of a gorget (neck piece) in field armor looks weird :S

I tried to find a better example to illustrate my point but here’s Ingres’ Joan of Arc at the Coronation of Charles VII which is an 1854 depiction of an event that took place in 1429 and presents a very modern adaption of armor. NGL my mind keeps filling the spot on Galadrial’s plate with the sacred heart- her armor reads as such a Catholic-virginal-femme-knight vibe which is very much at odds with the overly classical costumes for the rest of the characters.

I do think her armor is cool looking but it doesn’t feel like it exists in the world of Rings of Power nor does it really fit in with the Lord of the Rings movies... The closest I could think of offhand is Aragorn/Elessar’s armor for the coronation in Return of the King and even that reads as “older” or more grounded in the film-world than Galadrial’s.

I’ve seen a lot of comments on the costume quality in costuming groups so I’ve linked the above post here [it’s a public post so you don’t need a facebook account to view it] which covers a lot of it but I’ll have my own rant too.

There’s for sure a decrease in the quality of costumes from the Lord of the Rings movies which is... so disappointing and TBH expected from the most expensive tv show ever in 2022 and from Amazon. I think a lot of people are aware of the aggressive shift towards using CGI for messing around with costumes: it takes TIME and MONEY and SKILL to produce the wonderful costumes we saw in Lord of the Rings and, to be frank, the work of many many costume/IATSE union members which Amazon isn’t going to pay for. The overall time frame for producing tv/movies has gotten a lot shorter which has forced a lot of costuming departments to cut corners in design and execution.

That is how rumpled costumes make it on the screen, that is how you get so many wigs that move unnaturally, that is how the most expensive tv show ever gets such a... bland and milquetoast design. The Lord of the Rings costumes were littered with so many small and very intentional details that brought more personality to the characters and made the world seem more grounded and real.

HOWEVER- I would like to make a note on Miriel’s screen printed undershirt.

I’ve been making clothes a long time, I’ve seen a fair amount of all levels of live theater, I’ve gone to fashion exhibitions, and seen a lot of movies. What I mean to say, is that I’ve seen a lot of art involving clothes/costuming with big and small budgets and many different intentions. Over the last few years, I’ve seen the expectations for local theater and bespoke clothing rise dramatically while keeping the pay low and rushing for time- I think a lot of people are so disconnected from the process of making clothes that it’s been hard to temper your expectations away from what a big budget movie house is able to do.

I 100% Absolutely Think that Rings Of Power SHOULD have done so much better!!! They literally had so much money they could have invested in costume professionals and materials and taken their time to let a nuanced and well-made wardrobe emerge.

But! I would like to take a moment to admire Miriel’s screen printed undershirt. I’ve seen a lot of people bash it without nuance. It’s not an appropriate solution for literally the most expensive tv show ever- but can you imagine what a clever idea this is if you were putting on a dance performance and needed a full range of movement? Or if you’re staging a production of Cinderella and bought a plastic breastplate and your producer (OhFuckOhFuckOhFuck) only budgeted $100 for a character that’s supposed to be fully armored?

Costume designers and shop workers are overwhelmingly paid less than their peers in other departments (maybe it’s because many of them are from marginalized genders.....) and frequently given a smaller budget than other departments in live theater. I recently had a friend of a friend reach out to me about a musical where they budgeted $300 for 20 full costumes!!! That’s $15 a costume from a professional theater!!!

I absolutely adore the tremendous growth in cosplay we’ve seen over the past decade and the cool costumes we’ve seen from high-budget period and fantasy shows: but a lot of your “run-of-the-mill” costume designers have been run ragged trying to meet the expectations of Hollywood movies on a shoestring budget and it’s been disheartening to see a lot of these kinds of practical solutions bashed online. There was and should have remained a distinction between the quality expectations of big budget films or the passion projects of a cosplayer VERSUS what the majority of professionals do within their budget.

I’ve heard more than a few of my fellow designers and technicians cry because a costume looked GREAT with the distance from stage to audience or properly lit- but was bashed from a close up photo or because the director didn’t like that the “illusion”/solution only worked on stage. I’ve seen catty arguments online where a costumer is trying to build their own platform shoes (VERY VERY DANGEROUS unless you’re a professional cobbler) because the show was usually done with them, their director insisted on them, and they didn’t have the resources to purchase new/used. Fuck I’ve worked rentals with people from a few of these actual high budget houses- trying to stretch a budget until it screams.

There’s a whole complicated discourse on fair wages and labor practices and budgeting that I’m not ready to get into- but I’d like to ask you to think of kindness and the suspension of disbelief. It doesn’t solve the structural problems that need to change, but a lot of professional costumers love their art/craft and are proud of the solutions they come up with in their line of work! Obviously we should expect better quality in examples like these- but I’d like to celebrate some of the costumes that are less “realistic” or “immersive” but do such a good job of conveying their part of the narrative that we overlook the proverbial screen-printed undershirt.

(Hel, Metropolis- needs no comment I love her)

(Monty Python and the Holy Grail- knitted chainmail)

(Jareth, The Labyrinth- one CRUNCHY wig)

(Dorothy, The Wizard of Oz- ruby slippers made with dyed satin and organza, three different kind of glass and plastic beads/sequins, and lit exceptionally well)

I’m not the expert on all of this and I’d love to hear other people’s thoughts (please be kind and act in good faith)! I’m not about to say great things about the Amazon costumes for Rings of Power, but I hope that you’ll be more forgiving online for other designers making the best of their time/budget

Love, your local costume professional

#hello hello #kaasknot #this ended up being way more scattered than i thought it would be #but here's my rant #rings of power #lord of the rings #lotr #tolkien fandom #costuming #costumes

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warrioreowynofrohan · 4 years

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Noldorin Rulers - A Public Policy Analysis

Fëanor

A civil servant’s nightmare; the kind of person that makes one want to beat their head against the wall. Extremely stubborn once he has chosen a course of action; little to no inclination towards planning ahead; regards anyone who disagrees with him as an enemy.

In his extreme rush to depart from Valinor, he leaves behind items of extreme value for intelligence and communication, the palatíri. If they could see as far as Beleriand from Valinor, using them prior to leaving would have been highly prudent. In addition to preventing him from being completely blindsided by the very existence of Angband, it would have told him that Olwë’s brother was the ruler of a substantial realm in Middle-earth that was under attack by Morgoth, thus providing a much stronger argument when seeking to convince the Teleri to join in the Return (“Your brother needs your help!” is clearly a better case than “You’re all ungrateful assholes”).

Even if the palatíri couldn’t be used at such a distance, bringing them along would still have bern invaluable. Using them upon arrival would have, again, provided the knowledge that Morgoth had a fortress and considerable resources of materiel and personnel. Their surveillance and long-distance-communication capabilities would have been of great value throughout the First Age. They could also have prevented the Nirnaeth, where the lack of communications abilities between the two armies was a key factor in the defeat.

And while we’re on the topic of leaving behind invaluble military resources, let’s not forget the the much larger issue of leaving behind more than half of your army - again, while pursuing a war against a very powerful enemy whose full capacities and resources are unknown to you - on the sole basis that they don’t like you very much. It’s an almost incomprehensibly bad decision, entirely on the basis of personal pride, with no practical merits whatsoever. You’re in unknown territory, about to commence a war that you’ve already been warned is hopeless, and your first decision is “No, we need fewer people”?!

And yet, for all this, Fëanor is not the worst of the Noldorin leaders described here. More on that to come!

Fingolfin

During his time in Beleriand, largely does an excellent job from a policy perspective. Firstly, upon arrival, refrains from immediately attacking Angband - despite Morgoth being at a temporary tactical disadvatage due to the Sun - in order take time to gather intelligence and enable his forces to recover from the crossing of the Helcaraxë. He avoids conflict with the Fëanorians despite he and all his people having a rather substantial grievance against them, and when Fingon provides him with an opportunity to reconcile, he does so, and proceeds to set up surveillance of Angband and seek to establish diplomatic relations with the other peoples of Beleriand.

He doesn’t become offended when Thingol is unwilling to meet, and is satisfied with the practical choice of having Finarfin’s children act as go-betweens. He arranges Mereth Aderthad for mutual intelligence-sharing, strengthing of bonds, and diplomatic engagement, and it is essentially successful, though hampered by Thingol’s isolationism. And he doesn’t lose sight of his goal - of the main Noldorin leaders, he’s the most interested in attempting to attack Angband during the Siege.

Maedhros

Many similar characteristics to Fingolfin, during the period of the Siege. Doesn’t allow himself to be offended easily, avoids and defuses conflict insofar as he is able (even if it means moving his family to the other side of Beleriand), seeks out opportunities to build new alliances. Probably very annoyed that Caranthir lost the opportunity to recruit the Haladin by ignoring them for too long.

Somewhat more cold-blooded and ruthless about policy and objectives than Fingolfin - his statement that Thingol’s realm consists of the areas Thingol can militarily control, and everything else is in practice Noldor territory, comes to mind. And while his motive for recruiting the Men of the East (the Noldor and Edain have a lot fewer people than Morgoth has orcs) doesn’t have to be characterized as “we’re low on cannon fodder”, it certain can be seen that way. (And if Caranthir, never the most diplomatic, was rather less subtle about that, it could explain certain changes in allegiance.)

Fingon

On the whole, he does well. He’s very much a military leader - in addition to taking on Glaurung, he detects and deals with a party of ocrs that are seeking to carry out a surprise attack on Hithlum from the west. He’s stated to have been on good terms with everyone, a valuable characteristic in the contentious House of Finwë. If there’s a policy flaw, it’s that he leads rather too much from the front, given that he’s the crown prince and (after Turgon’s disappearance to Gondolin) there’s no clear heir after him, something that would leave his advisors biting their fingernails.

Turgon

Tempermentally, the opposite of Fingon: not impulsive, and inclined to be slow and conservative in his decision-making. For example, does a lot of planning on Gondolin, but doesn’t take any action until Ulmo gives him more of a push.

The later choice not to evacuate Gondolin is a wrong one, but it comes from a lack of faith more than from bad policy. The policy-makers and bureaucrats of Gondolin would largely have backed the choice - they have strong and extensive defenses, and the rest of Beleriand is overrun by Morgoth’s forces, with no safe strongholds. If they might be attacked in Gondolin, they undoubtedly would be attacked elsewhere, with no walls and towers guarding them. Staying is clearly the most prudent choice. Policy and prophets rarely mesh well.

Finrod

Very good from a policy standpoint, in several respects. He’s proactive, and when he lacks knowledge and expertise on a subject, he seeks out those who have it. We see this with the construction of Nargothrond - first, when considering a place to build, he asks Thingol, since Thingol has greater knowledge of the region. Then he hires the dwarves to help in the building, since they’re the experts on subterranean architecture.

He’s also an skilled diplomat. He stays on good terms with the House of Fëanor (he’s visiting Maedhros and Maglor when he first encounters the Edain). His diplomatic skills are of great benefit to the Edain: for example when he negotiates with Thingol to permit the Haladinto live in Brethil, as well as, earlier, helping Beor’s people to avoid conflict with the Laiquendi. He’s also the only one of the Noldorin princes who consults with Thingol about the Edain, another important indicator of diplomatic tact since the Noldor are inviting the Edain to settle in what is (from Thingol’s point of view, anyway) Thingol’s realm.

He’s certainly more of a diplomat than an administrator, but he is decidedly not a flake or a lightweight. However, it’s certainly possible that the people of Nargothrond felt that they were not a high priority, which could have played a role in later events.

Which brings us to -

Celegorm

If Fëanor is the kind of leader who makes policy types want to beat their head against a wall, Celegorm is the kind who make them want to shoot themselves - or him. Setting aside the patent immorality or everything he does in Nargothrond, and evaluating it solely from the perspective of whether it achieves his goals, it’s still unremittingly terrible.

Let’s begin by granting that in addition to the goal of 1) fighting Morgoth, he and Curufin also have the goals of 2) preventing anyone else from obtaining a Silmaril and 3) consolidating the rule of most of Beleriand under the House of Fëanor by gaining control of Nargothrond and alliance with Doriath.

So. Beren shows up wanting to get a Silmaril out of Angband. There are two possible options here: either it’s impossible, in which case there is no need to impede him, or it’s possible, if which case you want to be involved to at least a sufficient extent to get the Silmaril from him once it’s out of Angband. And you have the ability to talk to animals. So the optimal course is to find a bird that can carry a lightweight, written message to your brothers; proffer assistance in the quest; and have a midsized military force intercept the team on the way out. Moreover, you’ve got the opportunity to try to obtain the other two Silmarils while infiltrating Angband as well - which also gives you a passable non-suspicious motive for the offer of assistance. But going by their actions, actually attempting get the Silmarils away from Morgoth isn’t a priority for Celegorm and Curufin.

So let’s move on to Goal 3, rule of a large segment of Beleriand by the House of Fëanor. Here, again, Celegorm’s methods are not at all conducive to his ends. First, Finrod departs with a very small force on a very dangerous mission into the heart of enemy territory. He is captured. Celegorm regards this as a good thing. However, a little thought would show that Finrod is the person with the most knowledge of Nargothrond - its precise location and means of access, its strengths, its weaknesses, its defenses. He is in the hands of Morgoth’s most skilled torturer. If he breaks, that is a disaster for you. That opens the way to a large-scale invasion, in which case you’ll have no realm and no refuge and no allies, having burned your bridges. And the plans involving Lúthien are even worse, because there is no scenario in which success achieves your goals. Given the nature of Eldarin marriage, if you actually manage to marry her the only possible result in the death of both you and her. (It’s worth noting that Huan’s defection likely saved his master’s life.) And whether she is captive or dead, the most probable result of this plan is the invasion of Nargothrond by Thingol (longer renditions of the Leithian, outside the Silm, note that Thingol was preparing for an attack on Nargothrond when news arrived of the fall of Tol-in-Gaurhoth), which is both bad for you and terrible for the war effort.

So all you’ve managed to do is come up with a succession of actions which are inherently counterproductive to your goals and alienate the two largest realms in Beleriand (with disastrous later consequences for the Nirnaeth).

(I’m barely going to touch on the later attack on Beren and Lúthien, because by that point any long-term goals are entirely forgotten and Celegorm and Curufin are operating solely on the basis of lust and spite, but I will say - If you succeeded, where were you intending to go? Do you think Maedhros will be impressed if you show up on his doorstep with a kidnapped Sindarin princess? Because he won’t be!)

[Many points in the analysis of why Celegorm’s decisions are all terrible can be credited to Philosopher at Large, author of The Leithian Script.]

#tolkien #the silmarillion #fingolfin #maedhros #fingon #turgon #finrod #celegorm #curufin #beren #lúthien #beren and luthien #fëanor

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fuckingfinwions · 4 years

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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

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elesianne · 4 years

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A Silmarillion fanfic for @tolkiensecretsanta

Summary: Curufinwë is not happy about having to share a celebration honouring him with Findaráto, but it ends differently than he thought it would.

Length: ~1,300 words, Rating: Teenage audiences; Some keywords: Curufin & Finrod and/or Curufin/Finrod, Years of the Trees, House of Finwë

A/N: This is pre-slash or just cousinly competitiveness depending on the lens you choose to view it through.

Quenya names are used because this takes place during Curufin and Finrod’s late ‘teen years’ in Valinor. Young Curufin is a spiky little bastard who thinks he is much tougher than he is.

AO3 link

Special occasion

Curufinwë loves and admires his paternal grandfather, but sometimes he thinks that Finwë has more good intentions than he has common sense. It makes little sense as he is a beloved and respected king – perhaps it is only in matters regarding his family that he has little common sense.

Take his decision to celebrate Curufinwë and Findaráto’s completion of their first apprenticeships by hosting one large party for both of them. One shared party, attended by all members of all branches of the family, to celebrate two half-cousins who share no particularly affinity for one another.

That is an appropriate phrase, Curufinwë thinks. Sharing no particular affinity. He doesn’t dislike Findaráto – that would require him to care more about his fairest half-cousin than he does. Unlike Carnistir, he only dislikes or hates with good reason.

Findaráto’s inextinguishable good-naturedness and good-humouredness as well as the way he is always golden and glittering, somehow, even when he wears Falmarin sailor’s rags, can be an annoyance but any of that is not of enough consequence to truly dislike him. In any case, Findaráto spends much of his time in Alqualondë with his mother’s kin, and some on Taniquetil too, with his Vanyarin grandmother’s family. He is not in Tirion enough to be as annoying a half-cousin as, say, Findekáno who seems to be visiting Maitimo whenever Maitimo isn’t off somewhere with him.

Findaráto’s frequent stays elsewhere are also the reason why he gained his first mastery a little late, at the same time with Curufinwë even though Findaráto is a year older than him. Curufinwë is annoyed at Findaráto’s dilettantism – for what else can his long absences from his studies and practice be called – but he admires his talent which made his graduation less delayed than it could have been. They are both graduating young, Curufinwë especially.

That should be all the more reason for the two of them to have their own separate celebrations, Curufinwë thinks. All of his older brothers and cousins have had, though none of them have graduated the same year this far. Fëanáro doesn’t like the shared honour, and somewhere beneath their serene surfaces, Arafinwë and Findaráto must resent it at least a little, too.

Curufinwë does, though he doesn’t complain to his grandfather.

The only consolation Curufinwë – and his father, too – have is that Findaráto is Arafinwë’s eldest son, and the first to accomplish a mastery, while Curufinwë is his father’s fifth son. If the shared celebration is a slight, is it more of a slight on Arafinwë and Findaráto than Fëanáro and Curufinwë.

As Curufinwë stands before his very extended family and the royal court, beside Findaráto, listening to their grandfather’s speech, he does his best to appear gracefully grateful for the king’s praise, and he tries to not look at Findaráto too often.

Findaráto has chosen to dress in Vanyarin style, for some obscure reason. His long robes are a muted, pale blue of some wispy material, and his plentiful jewellery is silver. That should make him half-disappear in the white halls of the palace. Instead he stands out like he always does in any crowd.

Curufinwë’s maroon surcoat’s high collar is itchy, making it difficult to stay still as he listens to his grandfather talk about his and Findaráto’s accomplishments in turn, describing their projects that qualified them for a mastery.

‘I am proud of all my grandchildren, but on this day, I am particularly proud of Findaráto and young Curufinwë.’ Finwë’s eyes twinkle as bright as the crystal of his goblet as he raises it. ‘They have certainly earned the fine feast that has been prepared for us today. Let us all share our pride in Findaráto and Curufinwë, and then share in the feast.’

Curufinwë settles a suitable expression on his face as he is congratulated, and then takes his place next to his grandfather in the long table. Findaráto, as the other person being celebrated, sits on the king’s other side, and the queen opposite.

During the meal Curufinwë talks with his grandfather, and his father who sits beside him, and his mother who sits opposite him.

He notices that Findaráto talks with everyone he can, and it doesn’t even look like it takes any effort.

The celebration goes well, all things considered. Fëanáro and Curufinwë make a point of not conversing much with guests that were invited for Findaráto. There are many interesting people invited anyway, craftsmen and -women, including many of Curufinwë’s mother’s relatives.

When the celebration is drawing to a close, the crowd growing smaller in size and the hour growing late, Curufinwë is surprised by Findaráto appearing at his elbow just as Curufinwë is fetching one last cup of wine before leaving.

'A grand celebration, wasn’t it, cousin?’ Findaráto’s grin is as bright as his hair, and his eyes twinkle remarkably much like their grandfather’s. 'An affair worthy of princes.’

'As it should have been.’ Curufinwë straightens his sleeves and picks up his cup of wine. 'Were you looking for something, Findaráto? I was just about to leave.’

'Just you. Leaving, were you? Going straight home so you can start reading texts on metallurgy bright and early in the morning, or perhaps you shall write one?’ Findaráto somehow manages to say it all without any of it being barbed or unkind. It is a feat Curufinwë knows himself to be incapable of.

But it makes it easy to answer not-sharply. 'For your information, I have – shall we say, celebrated enough today that I have already completed my plans for being under the weather tomorrow.’ Curufinwë can’t help grinning a little as he speaks. Almost too much of very good wine has that effect on him, and the shared celebration wasn’t terrible in the end, either.

'Ah. That is too bad. I was going to ask you to a concert tomorrow morning. It is rather experimental: the musicians are all mathematicians, too, and –’

'I told you, I already have plans.’ The rejection is automatic, and Curufinwë almost regrets it as soon as he has spoken the words. Experimental music by mathematicians sounds intriguing. But he is also truly going to feel unwell in the morning, he knows, and an early concert doesn’t suit that 'plan’, so the rejection is probably for the best.

Findaráto’s smile dims. 'I see. Well. It might not be the best idea for me either to go anywhere early. But how about a ride?’

Curufinwë considers it. Findaráto has a rather fine plains-bred mare that Curufinwë wouldn’t mind racing. 'In the afternoon?’

'Or in the evening, if you so wish’, Findaráto offers, as if he wasn’t getting what he wants anyway.

'Afternoon is better, so we shall have time to ride to the foothills of Taniquetil and back.’

'Afternoon suits me very well.’ Findaráto touches his hair, even though every golden curl is as perfectly placed in artistic disarray as they were in the beginning of the celebrations. 'A long ride sounds refreshing.’

'Indeed.’ Curufinwë takes a sip out of the cup he’d almost forgotten he has in his hand. 'That mare of yours. How fast can she run?’

Findaráto looks delighted. 'You wish to race us? With my horse it’s not just about how fast but how fast and how long, and I will be happy to show you, cousin. She comes from very fine Vanyarin plainshorse stock.’

'And mine is bred from finest Noldorin hunting steeds.’

'We shall have a good race, then.’

Curufinwë finds himself smiling back at Findaráto. 'We shall. But’, he feels necessary to tell Findaráto, 'do not take this to mean that we will necessarily make a habit out of this. This is a special occasion.’

Findaráto’s answering smile is disconcertingly similar to one that Curufinwë has practiced in the mirror. 'Of course, cousin’, Findaráto replies.

A/N: Thank you for reading! Comments/replies and reblogs are always very appreciated :)

Also, this can be seen as an adolescent, much less poisoned-bitter companion piece to my First Age Curufin-Finrod fic Crowns and sons, gold and blood.

#tss2019 #curufin #finrod #tolkien fanfiction #silmarillion fanfiction #I loved writing young curufin again. he's so much fun to write - the way he deceives himself about what he really thinks about things #and finrod - I find him difficult to write as main character but I love him as a foil for others #my fics #special occasion #elesianne's fics

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blankdblank · 6 years

Text

Old Enemies Pt 2

Tags –

@himoverflowers, @theincaprincess, @aspiringtranslator, @fizzy-custard, @evyiione, @red608

…

Warning - mild kinda implied smut scene

Languages - Khuzdul, Elvish, Rohirric, Hobbitish

…

Your first meal went alright enough, glancing between Bilbo and Ori who kept you well distracted enough much to the other Dwarves displeasure, soon enough finding themselves torn from your company as you had to leave to meet up with your Nephews in Mirkwood when they called you begging for your assistance. Standing as you reached for your wallet in your bag only to be stopped by Bilbo who insisted that he pay for your portion, you agreed only if you could pay for your next lunch, something he agreed to with his fingers crossed under the table unwilling to ever have to make you pull out your wallet for anything when he suggested to go out in the first place. Stealing one more glance at the table you spotted Thorin trailing your steps as you left shooting you one last smirk as you turned back to join the crowds passing by the open door, his eyes falling to the table struggling to breathe or focus on anything said around him, thinking to himself, ‘Damnit’ as your innocent smile flashed back into his mind again.

Your trip went well enough, finding yourself once again in the subway station though this time headed in the opposite direction, gripping the support bar in the crowded train, each tall blonde Elf eyeing you curiously, eyes lingering on your long black hair assuming at once Noldorin, holding your calm exterior you pulled out our phone to double check the location they promised to meet you in before sliding your phone back into your bag. The doors opened and you took your place at the end of the line following the fast moving crowd around you towards the large Eagle statue beside the fountain in the park nearby spotting the two redheaded Nephews of yours standing next to your acquaintance from earlier and another tall redheaded female Elf.

You greeted your Cousins with a large group hug giggling as they lifted you from the ground before turning you to face the Prince and his friend, “Prince Legolas, Tauriel, our Aunt.”

Legolas bowed his head to you with a large smirk, “Jaqi, we met on the subway earlier during my stop in Erebor.”

Your eyes darted to Tauriel, “You wouldn’t happen to be dating Kili Durin would you?”

She nodded, “How did you guess that?”

“We are in the Orchestra together, you really shouldn’t have told him to say that insult was a familiar greeting, I could understand wishing to see him say it to King Thranduil possibly but you shouldn’t have just unleashed him with that when he could have done some real damage to hs Family name.”

Her eyes widened, “I didn’t think he’d actually say that, to anyone, I though he’d run it by his Cousin Ori first. Oh damn!” Her eyes searching around through her mild panic attack then darted back to you, “He didn’t say it to you did he?!” You nodded, “Oh I am so sorry!!”

You smiled at her, “Just don’t choose something so cruel next time, it’s really on him if he doesn’t check it first.”

Legolas chuckled again eyeing you with another smirk, “Have you eaten yet?”

You nodded, “Just came from lunch with the Durins and Mr Baggins from rehearsals.”

Legolas chuckled again, “I’m surprised they’re so close to you already, I thought with the feud they’d be the last to befriend you.”

“I’ve only told Mr Baggins about my Father, I don’t think the others have figured it out yet.”

Your Nephews curled their arms around your shoulders and back, “If they give you a hard time let us know, we’ll set them straight!”

Legolas chuckled, “I was thinking more about your Mother’s side from King Thingol.” Earning a quiet groan from you and another chuckle from him as Tauriel’s eyes went a bit wider again, “Consider it unmentionable.”

You nodded and they all led you straight for the Castle gaining a large number of curious gazes and whispers about you, though beside your Nephews they could clearly see the familial resemblance in your facial features even with the vast difference in your hair, eyes and height.

The front gates opened for you allowing you a clear view of the garden covered city filled with massive trees connected with pathways and tree houses, all leading to the main Castle carved from a pale marble with streaks of silver through it coated with a thin layer of ivy and massive statues surrounding the outer walls of the Valar and smaller figurines of their creations. The large white Gold doors opening to reveal massive rooms with all of the same glistening stone carved into massive pillars and trees etched into the walls with scattered images of Elks between them with silver and green banners scattered throughout with images of the Royal line’s crest and images from several old battles across them lining your path to the Throne Room.

Each Elf you passed bowing low to their Prince before eying you after you’d passed leaving ripples of insinuations and comments about you before being silenced as the Throne Room doors closed behind you, your eyes stopping on the back of the tall Blonde Elf before you, arms crossed behind his back as he looked at the stacks of notes scattered across the large table at the foot of the stairs leading to his Throne. His broad muscular frame showing in his deep green tight button down shirt with the sleeves rolled up, tucked into dark grey dress slacks, the tall silver crown weightlessly resting around the back of his head, your eyes taking in the similarity between him and the Prince beside you who was in a deep green shirt also but with jeans and boots also with a slimmer build and a few inches shy in height.

The King turned as his Son cleared his throat, his arms releasing their grip as he turned, smiling coolly at your group, “Another message so soon? I was..” His eyes landing on you causing his voice to drop off with his lips partially parted eyeing you completely before crossing the distance between you holding out his hand for you, sifting your case to your other hand you rested your hand in his open palm which he quickly bowed to you and kissed your knuckles gently, “Princess Jaqiearae, I haven’t seen you since the day your...” His thumb gently running over your Mother’s ring before meeting your eyes again with a pained expression in his pale silvery blue eyes lightening when you smiled at him.

“The day we buried my Mother, yes, I remember you, though you seemed much taller back then.”

His cool exterior broke with a string of laughter breaking him into a more relaxed stance as he gently released your hand staring adoringly taking in your full image and etching it into his mind.

“Well you have grown since then.”

“Not very much, it’s mostly the shoes.” Smirking up at him causing his smile to grow as he chuckled softly again.

He glanced at your Nephews, “Where exactly have you been hiding her all this time?”

They chuckled before Amras replied, “Oh like we could get her to do anything ever.”

Amrod, “She’s been wandering all on her own whims.”

Amras, “Though Father does do his best to keep her well on his horizons. Just in case.”

The Kings eyes rested on you again, “All these years you’ve finally wandered back into my sight, I shall have to keep very close watch on you then aren’t I, at least for your Brother’s sake.?”

You shot him an even wider grin, “Good luck with that.” Causing his smile to grow again as he burst into another short round of laughter.

“You’re so much like her, something I’ve greatly missed, a person of her caliber, I look forward to your visits in the future. For now, have you eaten?” You nodded, “Wine then?”

“It’s barely past 3.”

He chuckled, “Then what would you wish for us to do, dancing then, a movie perhaps or your former favorite hide and seek in the royal armory?” Raising his eyebrows curiously triggering a giggle from you.

“I wouldn’t want to interrupt anything.”

“Oh you’re never interrupting anything, just like your Mother, everything else merely interrupts your plans.” Holding out his hand for you again curling your hand around his arm and leading you to the Royal Wing for privacy, spending the day catching up with each other about your lives while you got to know his Son and Kili’s girlfriend better, staying until nearly sunset when you made your way back to your apartment under the protection of five guards from Mirkwood.

Thorin was lounging in his living room on his couch when he heard a group of Elven voices out in the room outside his front door, he sighed and stood giving in to his curiosity hoping that it could alleviate his mind endlessly thinking of you glancing through the peephole to have his jaw drop seeing you in the company of five Blonde Elves, all heading into the apartment leaving you in the hall before exiting and bowing to you before leaving. As the outer door shut he swung open his door without even realizing as he practically shouted your name, only realizing what he’d done when you turned back to him with a slightly stunned expression before giving him a small wave and a smile, “Thorin”.

He shifted resting his arm on his door frame awkwardly opening and closing his mouth before finally saying in broken Elvish with a slightly pained expression, “Pleased trip family to?” Doing his best to smile again without his cheeks heating up in embarrassment from not being his normal high achieving self.

Your face lit up as a giggle escaped you at his expression causing his smile to grow while his cheeks heated up even more, glancing at the floor then back to you with a breathy chuckle, you set down your violin case on the table beside your door leaning against your doorframe as well drawing another sparkle from his eyes as you spoke slowly, “Trip was good, met, with, friend from Mother.”

“Mother is… healed?” His brows pressing together at his lack of finding the right word.

He saw you grabbing your dictionary from your purse setting your bag and jacket in your apartment beside your violin and walked over to his side handing him the dictionary asking him, “Healed?”

He glanced at you for a moment flicking the book open smirking at your closeness before glancing down, first at the page then finally realized that he wasn’t wearing a shirt and his sweats had slid down barely covering his hips at all, exposing the top band of his boxer briefs underneath, doing his best to ignore that and feel confident before you again as he quickly found the words he needed tilting the book towards you stealing the chance to lean closer to you as you read it back to him properly drawing another smile to his face especially as you glanced back up at him a few inches from his face before flipping through the book again. The small breeze caused from the quick flipping of pages gave him a small breeze carrying your apple scent closer to him drawing his eyes to run over you again, “My Mother, fell, ill at 5.” Doing your best to avoid oggling his half naked body inches from you as your temperature spiked.

His smile dimmed when he caught your eyes again, “I’m..”

“Don’t, thank you, but don’t.”

He nodded briefly, “Your Father well?”

He got another slightly pained expression and instantly regretted asking, “Hobbitish?”

“Not, full well.” With another pained expression.

You nodded biting your lip, “Gondorian?”

He shook his head, “I am nearly fluent in Rohrric, though it sounds rough.”

He froze at your smile still inches from his face answering in Rohirric, “I just moved here from Rohan.”

His smile grew relaxing finally that you had a way to communicate easier, “I’ve never been, but I hear it’s incredible.”

“It really is.”

“Do you like Erebor?”

You nodded, “What I’ve seen is beautiful.”

He bit his lip for a moment, “I take it family is a sore subject?”

“3 half brothers, 2 half Sisters, My oldest Brother raised me after my Mother passed, My Father..” He swallowed shifting his arm higher on the door frame beside you eyeing your face intently, “Didn’t want me, or my Mother when he’d gotten what he wanted from her, moved on quickly.” His smile dropped, your eyes darted in his apartment as his phone rang then gave him a small smile before starting to straighten up.

His hand rested gently on your side shaking his head, softly saying, “It can ring.” Before removing his hand “What happened to the Men who moved in?”

His eyes darting across the hall seeing the same stack of boxes from the days before then back to you seeing your smile come back with a quiet chuckle, “My Nephews.”

His eyebrows raising, “You don’t look…” Waving his hand in front of you not willing to finish for fear of insulting you again.

You chuckled again, “My Oldest brother is a good 15 years older than me, My Nephews are 4 years younger than me.”

He let out a quick chuckle rubbing his neck, “That explains it then.” His phone rang again causing you to glance at it again then stop suddenly as they hung up then rang again triggering a groan from him, tapping his hand against the door frame with a long exhale through his nose, “My Sister, won’t stop till I answer.”

You nodded pulling off of the door frame after wishing him goodnight and heading back inside your apartment and locking the door behind you leaving him staring in the open doorway at your closed door for a few moments before heading back inside his to find out what his Sister wanted that was so important to interrupt his private moment with you.

You shut your door letting out a shaky breath leaning against your door trying to calm your pounding heart sliding your bag back in your purse doing your best not to focus on the image of him shirtless in his doorway with his pants hanging dangerously low, you bit your knuckle holding in the whimper you knew was coming at your mind following the trail of hair across his chest leading down to his bellybutton into a small strip that kept going even farther, grabbing your phone to charge before you climbed into a practically arctic shower leaving you shivering after but doing nothing for the fire seemingly burning inside you. Climbing into bed after jerking your comforter and a pillow free from one of your boxes, wrapping yourself under the blanket hoping your pillow could muffle any sounds you made as your fingers acted in Thorin’s place while your mind drug you down an endless path of fantasies.

Nearly an hour later Thorin hung up the phone finishing his dinner and cleaning up after then headed to bed groaning as he dropped heavily onto it before jerking the covers back over him forcing himself to sleep to avoid daydreaming about you again knowing he’d no doubt be seeing you in his dreams, each more heated than the next.

Once again he was stretched out across his couch before crossing to his door hearing you in the hallway outside your door, throwing open his door as he called your name, the smile on your face drawing him closer, pinning you against your door as you let out a gasp and a chuckle after as his body pressed against your body as he whispered to you in Khuzdul and smirking as you breathlessly whispered his name, his index finger started a trail at the base of your neck and trailed slowly through your parroting his whispered phrases back to him, and soft panting as he held your hands above your head with his other hand.

Your breath became shakier as his finger reached your hips, adding three more as he gently slid them down your left leg to the hem of your dress that hugged you so tightly it drove him crazy, smirking as he nearly moaned another phrase for you to recite while forcing his hips firmly against yours triggering a gasp from him showing you just how your body and voice had done to him.

His fingers gripping the dress gently raising it trailing his fingertips up the silky skin covering your thigh pressing a kiss to the back of your jaw just below your ear and trailing kisses along it while you recited his saying back in a faint whisper curling your thigh up against his side, finally reaching the lining of your panties and trailing across the soft lace material to cup you firmly pulling you against him as he raised his mouth just barely shy of touching your lips together before he breathlessly whispered, “Perfect.”

His lips nearly hungrily crashing into yours while he jerked your hips closer against his and nearly jumped out of his bed landing on all fours at the sudden blaring of his alarm, gasping for air from his intense dream and the throbbing-ly painful bulge erection his dream had caused.

Groaning loudly into his pillow after shutting off the alarm and hissing out a ‘Damnit’ as his hand slid over the front of his briefs before finally shoving his hand inside knowing there was only one way it would ever go down in time for rehearsals, working through the rest of his dream in his mind as he moaned your name breathlessly into his pillow before finally being able to take a freezing shower to calm the lustful wave he knew was bound to hit him again once he saw you again and finishing his morning routine.

Working his way into his suit for the day while he finished his breakfast, filled his pockets before grabbing his Cello case and heading for his door and freezing as he saw you turn after locking your door shooting him a large smile, he managed to stammer out a good morning while he closed and locked his door before eyeing your peach colored dress under your same leather jacket from yesterday with a matching pair of peach colored heels as your skin glowed brightly under your hair hanging freely around your face again. He waved his hand towards the door as he crossed to open it for you following after closely with a large smile, at least until he spotted his Nephews and Dwalin staring at the both of you dumbfounded, his hand gently tapping your shoulder and asking in Rohirric, “Want a ride?”

You glanced over at his kin still staring at you with growing smirks then back to him, “I like the walk. Thank you though.”

He took a step as you did, “At least accept the ride when it rains or gets colder.”

You let out a soft chuckle then gave him another quick smile, “Fine, until then, see you after my walk.” He stood and watched you turn and walk off towards rehearsals letting out a soft groan before turning to face the questions he knew were waiting for him, closing the distance and cutting them off, “Her Nephews moved her things in before she arrived, she’s my new neighbor, nothing happened stop looking at me like that!” Shooting them a glare as he walked to Dwalin’s suv as they chuckled and turned to join him.

Kili, “So what was all that bounce in your step from this morning?” Shooting him a wink resting his arm on the suv beside them.

Thorin let out a rumbling breath, smirking at his Nephew, “I dreamt I slapped you for making us late.” Then closed the trunk door after sliding his cello case carefully into its spot and heading for the passenger seat as the three of them chuckled.

Dwalin asked through the door as he opened it as Thorin climbed in, “You’re letting her walk?”

Thorin sighed resting his head back against the head rest, “I offered, she refused, ‘likes the walk’.”

Fili chuckled, “Hmm sounds like she needs a break to calm down after her night across from her Mr Dreamy Eyes.” Playfully swooning against Kili’s shoulder in the back seat as Dwalin laughed loudly while Thorin held back a groan as Dwalin started the short ride to rehearsals.

Steady breaths, slow and steady doing your best to keep your knees from shaking and your mind from wandering back to him, but the fact that you had to sit for hours in the same room listening to the incredible music that those hands of his could bring to life didn’t help matters any especially when you’d felt his eyes lingering on you through the rehearsals and the lunch after, and in the hall, no, stop it, do . not . go . there!

Finally calming yourself as you hopped onto the streetcar and accepting the spot beside Bilbo that he had held for you before asking all about your lunch with your family for the rest of the ride, thoroughly impressing him at how comfortable you’d been around the Elf King while he tried his best imagining what the stern King would look like with a smile on his face only ever seeing him on tv with his same blank expression. His comment triggering a set of giggles you muffled with your hand while you scrolled through your phone and discretely pulled up a picture Legolas had taken of the two of you smiling together the day before with his arm curled around your shoulders nearly dropping his jaw drawing another giggle from you before you climbed off.

You headed for your chair hearing another being knocked over from the horn section as you pulled out of your coat followed by a group of glares coming from the Durins aimed at the man who dared ogle at you, at least until Thorin nearly knocked his Cello case over when he spotted the strapless dress with the low cutout dip in the back in the shape of three bows along the woven straps holding it together.

His stunned expression mirrored in flashes across the Durin’s faces until you took your seat and quietly crossing your legs nearly causing another chair to be knocked over as your foot bounced during your brief inspection of your violin and the new notes from the director on a new arrangement as Fili slid into the chair beside yours with a smirk grabbing the dictionary he saw poking out of your purse flipping to gorgeous, butchering it terribly making you bite your lip to hold back your laugh as he flipped to the word for dress and mangled that one forcing a chuckle from Ori who quickly corrected his speech before you glanced at Fili saying, “Thank you.” Glancing up to see the rest of the Durins as they circled around you again each doing their best to converse with you in their own broken sentences so you could understand while your book made several rounds to help clarify what they intended to say until Bifur arrived and started the rehearsal for the day.

Thorin quickly studied the changes in his sheet music stealing one last glance at you before he managed to draw his focus back to the music though after the first run through your hunch turned out to be true that you would be spending nearly the entire time trying your best to avoid Thorin’s intent gaze locked on you once again.

Your nerves spiked again as you were called over to Bifur’s podium after the final run through, his quick smile somewhat easing your nerves from everyone staring as he spoke out in Elvish, “I was wondering if you were free tomorrow.”

You nodded, “No set plans for the rest of the month other than being here.”

His smile grew, “Good, because we have a band asking specifically for you, our best violinist, along with a backing Orchestra, they’re only available to fly in tomorrow.”

“Sounds good, same time as always?”

He nodded with a chuckle, “Not even going to ask which band?”

His smile grew, “The Eorlingas.”

And a quick giggle escaped you, quick to be covered by your fingers over your lips at remembering the band you’d often play along side during your panhandling days that won a huge recording contract on a singing competition show 5 years ago and had since their popularity had exploded through Middle Earth, “Sorry, I just, I know them, I played on more than a few of their demos.”

He chuckled, “They did mention something like that when they called. I will call them back and confirm your agreement to be there.”

You nodded and he announced the plans to the rest of the room who all started buzzing with excitement as Bifur left to call the band back and confirm just while your phone lit up with an email from them, which you quickly replied to, as Thorin curiously looked on and Fili tried to discretely read over your shoulder with a slight pout when he realized you were using yet another language he didn’t know. You glanced over and smiled at him, “Old Friends.”

He smiled back at you as you put your phone away and grabbed your jacket pulling it on as Fili helped you pull your hair out from under it shooting a smirk to his Uncle who he knew was gathering his things as quick as he could to join you again, locking his case and crossing the floor after Dwalin had already reached your side and made an attempt to get you to go out with them to lunch again as you head outside.

Only until you got outside to see King Thranduil and Prince Legolas waiting with Tauriel who happily rushed over to Kili and dragged him away while King Thranduil stood from his spot leaning on his car smiling at you as Legolas called out your name shooting you a large smile while they crossed the short distance over to both curl you into large hugs, lifting you and pecking you on the cheeks as you let out muffled giggles against their shoulders.

King Thranduil smiled at you, “Hungry?”

You smiled up at him causing his smile to grow, “I actually just got invited to have lunch with the Durins again.”

His eyes raised to glance over to the Durins with a smirk before heading over and switching to Khuzdul bowing his head slightly to Thorin who glanced curiously between you two after nodding his head, “Prince Thorin, I was wondering if you and your group would care to join me at my apartment a few blocks over for lunch? Haven’t had much time with Jaqi here since she was a child and we’re only in town for the day.”

Thorin’s eyes landed on you again catching Legolas brushing your hair behind your shoulder and ran his finger through it admiring your curls bouncing as he released them doing his best not to scowl and forcing a smile onto his face, “Sounds good.”

Thranduil gently grabbed your case and offered a ride to Bilbo, Ori and Nori who didn’t have a ride allowing them to jump in the limo with them as the Durins followed in their car, leaving their instruments in the Durin’s vehicle in the guarded garage on the bottom floor of his apartment building.

Heading upstairs and giving you all a quick tour after accepting your purse and laying it beside your violin case he carefully laid out on the table in the front room as Legolas accepted your coat smirking at the back of your dress not expecting the cutouts down your back and smiling at the Dwarves and Bilbo while they added their coats to the empty hangers in the coat closet beside yours before following your path.

Thorin doing his best to subtly make his way closer to you, nearly knocking you over when he bumped into you, gripping your waist holding you steady as you burst into a fit of giggles that you muffled with your hand as Thranduil turned back to you with a smirk spotting Thorin’s hands around your waist shooting the King a quick nervous smile as he inched backwards from his spot pressed against your back before reluctantly released your waist as Thranduil moved the tour ahead.

Leaving you in the large room with various pictures of random celebrities and other political figures along with a scattered few of you curled up in his arms with your Mother curled up asleep on his, Thorin leaned in to inspect it further, and glanced at you as you said, “My Mother.”

He smiled at you then glanced back at the other pictures hoping for more of them and they all took turns glancing at the others you pointed at, most of them you during your early childhood and your Mother’s as well all wondering how you all knew each other at least until they spotted the pictures of the two of them at a school graduation together with his Father and a man they assumed to be hers with matching purple eyes, who was wearing his large jewel covered crown, drawing set of shocked expressions when they recognized the late King from one of the distant Countries in Valinor.

Their eyes trailing back to you hearing your heels on the marble floor heading into the kitchen as they softly whispered to each other, “She’s a Princess?”

Dwalin glanced at the picture again, “A Duchess at least.” Thorin’s smirk came back turning to join you in the preparing of the meal as his mind swirled with new possibilities with you, always barring himself from relationships with too deep a connection at the insistence that he would one day inherit the Durin Crown that he would one day have to choose a woman of Royal Birth, preferably one without a direct line of succession, most commonly the Spare Children or Cousins or Nieces to the Crown, and with what you’d mentioned about an older brother you definitely filled that description perfectly, now all that really barred you from your possible bond was his extreme failure at Elvish and tolerable Hobbitish.

Quietly claiming the spot at your side as the others filed in to claim their own as he stole quick glances at you with a smile fixed on his face quietly asking you in Rohirric, “Your Grandfather was a King?”

Your eyes met his forcing a small smile out, “Both of them were.”

His eyebrows rose, “So you’re in line for their thrones then?”

You glanced up at him then back to the veggies you were cutting, “8th in line for one, 25th I believe in the other. Nothing close to your spot in lineage.”

His head turning as Thranduil leaned around you grabbing the ones you’d already cut offering you a large smile to you and a smaller to Thorin, “What’s all this about lineage?”

“They spotted the picture with you and Mother at your graduation.”

He let out a chuckle, “Oh yes, She was always kind to me when we grew up in Doriath, even though she far outranked me.”

Fili glanced over with a puzzled expression, “But you were both children of Kings.”

Thranduil smirked over at him, “My Father sort of fell into his Throne, some distant relative passed, claimed Greenland and passed it to me, we weren’t ranked very high at all, though my Father did have an occasional spot as Adviser to hers. One of the reasons they abandoned her the way they did”

Thorin looked at him slightly shocked at his words before glancing back to see you adding more of your cuttings to the bowl in the King’s hands before turning and grabbing more to cut as he headed to boil your cuttings while Thorin asked, “Abandoned?”

Thranduil nodded, “Jewelia was the 5th child for her Parents and preferred a far simpler life, seeing as she was 12th in line there was very little use for staying in the castle for the rest of her life, something about her choosing a life of a commoner didn’t sit well with her siblings so they severed ties.” They all glanced at you with pitying gazes which Thranduil caught, “None of that now, Jaqi’s had a hard lot but one thing she won’t tolerate is pity, she’s earned far greater for what she’s achieved through it all.”

Through the rest of your cooking and meal stories were mostly traded between the Durins and Thranduil and Legolas trading stories and jokes relaxing their strained relationship between their Kingdoms at least a little bit before you were helped back into your jacket as they pulled theirs back on and you were given rides back to Erebor after receiving another round of hugs from the Elf King and Prince.

Pulling back up to your apartment after dropping Bilbo and the Ri brothers off you let out a sigh grabbing your things and heading inside to drop off your violin and the mail you’d grabbed before heading out to the store remembering the bookstore you’d noticed back in town the other day. Easily finding your way back to the bustling shopping center once again weaving through the crowds and entering the bookstore, skimming the shelves and pausing on the translation books, grabbing an audio one for Khuzdul, and written copies of Hobbitish, and Elvish before scanning the rest of the shelves and settling on a book that Elrond had suggested as a Dwarvish classic and adding it to your pile and quickly heading to pay for them before heading for the grocery store before heading back home.

Pt 3

#Thorin x Reader OC #Hobbit #lotr

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