#lórien

[meadowlarkx]

grief and pride - embroidery for @tolkienekphrasisweek day 4, Gardening & Landscape Architecture! I was thinking about memory and how Elves might tell of particular places in adornments on clothing (imagining both of these designs on sleeves.)

First: Years of the Trees Fëanorian ornamentation, reminders of the Gardens of Lórien where Míriel lay, with Finwë's crest.

Second: Late First Age or Second Age Iathrim ornamentation, reminders of Menegroth and the First Kinslaying.

welcome to 'more photos and rambles at length'!!

Working on these little guys for a while I had time to think a fair amount about them. The concept of being literally clothed in one's sorrows feels very Elven and Tolkien to me. It's something about the long years and accumulating griefs, laying claim to and embodying them (powerful!), and the accompanying actions and grudges, and it's a thread that runs through both these groups. Fëanor is one of the first in the narrative to have this sort of memory/shadow on his heart, that of Míriel's passing. I love the similarities and connections between him and Míriel and the way she haunts the story, so I really enjoy the idea of Fëanor (and his sons!) reminding everyone of her absence subtly or unsubtly at every chance, including with their clothing--a mark of family loyalty which is also a nice fuck you to Indis and her children. Lórien is lush and verdant with golden flowers and mountain immortelle, don't @ me silvery tolkiengateway descriptions. I wanted this one to feel bright and vivid to echo the noontide of Valinor and the family's pride and brilliance. Finwë's crest got included in the design partly because it's less complicated than Fëanor's crest (shh), but also because I can completely see Fëanor making a(nother) claim to heirdom by wearing it.

Then of course he sets in motion greater horrors to remember. I am always thinking (@swanmaids has a great post about this) of the support Elwing canonically has in Sirion for her decision not to relinquish the Silmaril. And after seeing the 2nd kinslaying, it had to be a difficult, brave, potentially very controversial decision to hold on to it, but people are with her on this--I imagine motivated partly by real anger and grief over all they had lost and insistence upon memory, pride, dignity, identity etc. which probably remain with the few who survive the Sirion kinslaying too. And remembering Menegroth's beauty goes hand-in-hand with the grief--so I went for a bleaker look here, not the deep forest I usually picture (the 2 green vines, though, symbolizing in my head the surviving royal family/Peredhel!). This design being more of a picture of the place and less "abstract" was an attempt to gesture towards some cultural and stylistic differences in art, etc. I know this one isn't exactly a garden, but if we squint all of Doriath is an enclosed garden, so...!

Also here are the other pics. I'm imagining them bigger, but they are pretty little in real life!

#tolkien ekphrasis week #TEW Day 4 #silmarillion #silm #miriel #míriel #feanor #fëanor #doriath #sirion #elwing #etc etc. #i mean--i was thinking of thranduil full disclosure but #thranduil and maglor <3 dressing up the barbies... but ! #embroidery #my art #my posts #the silmarillion #menegroth #lórien #estë #este #feanorians #peredhel #there i think now i've captured every possible tag lmao #those are birch & sycamore on the doriath one! i don't know anything about ecology i only know colors #proudest of the little needle and thread for miriel

[fellowshipofthenoodles]

Former foster update, the lovely Lórien! She’s doing beautifully with her new parents @enbyexotics 😁 if you want to keep up with her and the other creatures residing there, drop them a follow!

#Lórien #not ours but still loved

[from-the-coffee-shop-in-edoras]

The Guardian, C. 2

I absolutely never write continuing, multi-part stories, except now apparently I do? I needed some moments of distance from a Théodred thing I’m working on, so I came back to this for a short break. Chapter 1 was done in November and is here, but the TL;DR is: Haldir finds a little 6 year old Rohirrim girl wandering on her own at the edges of Lórien. They have a language barrier and she’s never even heard of an elf before. But so far, they’ve figured out each other’s names, she’s decided trusting him is better than struggling on alone, and he’s committed to bringing her to help.

Art by the generous and talented @brigwife ❤️

Chapter 1 if you need a refresher.

Chapter 2:

Once she made the decision to reach out to him, she had no intention of letting go.

Haldir and Mildrithe had been walking now for several hours in the direction of the river and during all that time she kept a firm hold of his hand, her little fingers laced tightly together with his. It wasn’t his way to freely show closeness or affection–he saved gestures of warmth and tenderness for his wife and brothers, those that he trusted most in the world–but he could sense how much Mildrithe needed the reassurance of this simple touch and he wanted to give her that. The feel of her small hand in his stirred a deep, instinctual protectiveness in him. He barely knew her, and she would only be his charge until he could deliver her to other, more suitable guardians. But he wanted her to feel safe while they were together and to reward the innocent faith that she was blindly placing in him, so he would keep his hand entwined with hers for as long as she wanted.

As they walked, she used her free hand to point at plants and animals that she wanted him to name. She had a sharp ear and a good memory, and she quickly picked up his Sindarin words for trees, flowers, and the small forest creatures that could occasionally be seen skittering across their path. She, in turn, gave him the Rohirric words for these same things, or, at least, for those that she had ever seen before. Much of what they passed was new to her, and she was awed by the beauty of the woods now that she at last felt secure enough to pay attention to such details.

He used those intermittent silences while she absorbed her surroundings to think through his plans. Any time spent away from his assigned post increased the chances that orcs or other unwanted visitors could cross into Lórien unseen, and he felt the heavy pressure of maintaining the security of his sector of the border. He needed to reach the next post as quickly as possible so that he could hand Mildrithe off to a reliable escort, someone who could figure out where she belonged and how to get her there, while he returned to his own responsibilities. Unfortunately, he found that he couldn’t move through the forest at anything close to his normal speed with her in tow. She tried her best to match his pace, but her small legs needed two steps for each one of his, and he recognized immediately that she couldn’t maintain that effort for long. He made a conscious effort to slow himself, and they stopped for short breaks whenever her feet needed a rest. As a result, he was increasingly certain that they would not make it to the next talan for shelter before dark and would instead find themselves camping in the open when she inevitably needed sleep.

Even so, they made steady progress, and he found that he enjoyed her company. When she wasn’t asking for words or taking in a new sight, she hummed gently to herself and kept busy with her own thoughts. He had always appreciated agreeable quiet, and he found the soft lilt of her song and the muted rustle of leaves beneath her feet to be a pleasant enough accompaniment to their journey. She had noticed, of course, that his own feet made no such rustling noise, that he slipped through the forest as silently as a bird through the air, and she snuck sideways looks at him now and again, still marveling at the unanticipated qualities of her new companion. If he happened to look down at the right moment to catch her eye, she quickly turned her gaze, and he smiled to himself at her shy curiosity.

Eventually, he began to pick up the sound of rushing water, and as they neared the river he steered their course toward a small rock outcropping on the bank that would narrow the distance needing to be crossed. At this time of year, the river ran strong and rough, with swirling eddies and white foam where the water struck large boulders that broke the surface in an irregular pattern. The exposed part of each boulder was covered in soft clumps of light green moss with bright blue, bell-shaped flowers.

He knew that Mildrithe would be unable to cross the rope bridges that the wardens used, and so he planned to walk across the boulders, carrying her as he went. He stopped to adjust his pack and make room for her to ride on his back, but when he released her hand, her curiosity and enthusiasm for the unexpected wonders of the forest drew her forward alone. By the time he looked up again, she was already out on the second boulder, admiring the bluebells and peering into the depths of the swirling river.

“Mildrithe! Stay there until I reach you!”

She heard his words, though the only one she understood was her own name. Thinking he was calling her back, she took a step in his direction, but her foot came down awkwardly and her boot slid across the wet, spongy moss. She had half a moment to try to right herself, but the boulder was too slippery and her momentum was going in the wrong direction. Before she could even cry out, she disappeared into the river.

He hit the frigid water right after she did, diving down into the dark blue churn. It took all of his self control not to gasp from the shock of the cold and let the icy water directly into his lungs. He looked about frantically, straining for a glimpse of her, even as he felt the river pulling him downstream at a rapid clip. When the shadowy roil of the bubbling water proved impossible to see through, he propelled himself back to the surface, gulping in air before scanning for any sign of her and shouting her name. He swam a few strokes with the current, hoping to close any distance between them, and ignored the rips and tears at his arms and legs as he was forced through thickets of downed tree branches and scraped across sharp underwater rocks.

When the river took a slight bend, he at last caught a glimpse of her amber hair and dark clothes further ahead. Her cloak had caught on some tree roots that extended out from the bank, and she struggled to keep herself afloat in the forceful rush of oncoming water that battered into her as the roots kept her anchored in place. He swam toward her as quickly as he could, his arms burning from the effort, while trying to time his strokes carefully, knowing that it would be impossible to swim back upstream against the surge of water if he missed her on the first pass.

As he neared, he yelled her name, and her eyes made contact with his just as she was finally forced below the surface, only a single extended arm remaining visible as the rest of her sank. He reached for that arm, willing his muscles to stretch just a little further and a little faster, and was flooded with relief as he felt his hand close around her wrist. He yanked her back up and looped her arm around his neck while his other hand caught hold of the tree roots. With her clutching on to him, he was able to disentangle her cloak and slowly pull them, inch by inch, along the roots and toward the riverbank. At last, his feet touched solid ground, and he lurched forward out of the water, dragging them both onto the muddy, grassy earth at the river’s edge.

He lay still, trying to breathe out the panic that had taken over from the moment he saw her foot begin to slide, but the sound of coughing roused him from his own recovery. He reached over to turn her on her side, and she choked out several mouthfuls of river water before pulling herself up on an elbow, gasping and panting. Her eyes were wide and her lips were tinged blue with cold, but she seemed otherwise unhurt. He put a hand on her shoulder.

“Mildrithe, are you alright?”

Though she couldn’t know exactly what he had said, she seemed to understand the question and slowly nodded. She inhaled a few more deep breaths, and he took quick stock of her condition and his own. Aside from numerous small bruises and cuts, neither had sustained serious injury, and, despite losing his arrows in the water, his bow and his pack were both still securely strapped to his back. But the frigidity of the water combined with the cool air of the forest was going to be a significant problem, and soon.

He abandoned any thought of continuing on that evening. They needed a fire for warmth and a place where they could shelter for the night in safety while she rested and recovered. Scanning the area, his eyes landed on a massive tree that had fallen in a storm some years ago. The old trunk, at least ten feet in diameter, had weakened over time and some kind of forest creature had burrowed a space into the softened wood at the root end. It made a little den that would be just big enough for the two of them to sit or lay comfortably out of sight. He led her there and set to work kindling a small fire at the opening of the den to bring much needed warmth into the space.

They spent the next hour sitting in silence, trying to calm their nerves in tandem with the drying of their clothes. He was surprised by how unsettled he felt, how slowly the sense of alarm in his mind and limbs faded. He was used to life or death situations and to close calls with disaster, but nearly always with other wardens or soldiers, with strong, capable companions who accepted the risks they incurred and understood the fate that awaited their spirits should the worst happen. Caring for and protecting little Mildrithe–to have a young mortal life in his hands–was entirely different, and he knew deep in his bones that to fail her would feel uniquely devastating.

For now, though, she seemed unharmed and undaunted. The color returned to her face, and she ate a few nuts and pieces of dried fruit that he produced from a well-wrapped leather pouch in his pack that had mercifully kept out most of the river water. She sat close by the fire, occasionally tossing in a small twig or dried leaf, as their little shelter filled with cozy warmth and bright stars began to appear in the darkened sky overhead. By the glow of the firelight, he could see the effect of exhaustion start to show on her. Her eyes began to droop, and her chin sank repeatedly down toward her chest only to be lifted back up again with effort moments later.

Even as she fought against her fatigue, she watched him, and he had the sense that she was waiting for some kind of cue about what to do next. He didn’t require sleep to rest himself—and even if he had, someone needed to keep watch overnight given their position on the forest floor—but he leaned back and propped his head on his pack to show her that it was time to take whatever rest she needed.

A look of obvious relief washed over her, released at last to pursue the sleep she desperately needed and wanted, but she didn’t just lay down where she sat. Instead, she moved right next to him and stretched out at his side with one small hand placed lightly on his arm, a single point of contact to reassure herself that he was still there even when her eyes were closed. Once again, he didn’t have the heart to deny her this small comfort and so he remained reclined as he was, keeping that arm still and solid beneath her hand as she quickly drifted to sleep.

While she slept, he allowed his own mind to wander off to the peaceful memories that gave him rest even as his waking eyes remained open and watchful. His heart and spirit roamed the banks of the Nimrodel with Idhrien, reliving the long walks and quiet evenings they had shared when they first met and fell in love. He could see her now, with the kindest smile he had ever known and the loveliest dark eyes in which he could see the sparkling reflection of the starlit sky. But his contented remembrances were soon interrupted by the present, where Mildrithe’s tranquil sleep was becoming ever more fitful and disturbed. She winced and flinched repeatedly, sometimes putting a hand up to shield her face and murmuring words that he couldn’t understand but had the urgent tone of distress. When one of those words emerged as a frightened cry, he lightly jostled her shoulder and called her name, hoping to put an end to the nightmare.

She sat bolt upright, casting her eyes around wildly and breathing heavily like an animal that has run fast and long to escape a predator. He put a hand under her chin to turn her face toward him, and he spoke soothing words though he knew she could not comprehend them.

“You’re safe, Mildrithe. It was only a dream. Whatever troubles you, it cannot hurt you now.”

Her eyes slowly refocused on him and the dark, quiet forest around them, the realization dawning on her that the danger she perceived had been all in her mind this time. Her desperate panting began to slow, and she dragged an arm across her eyes to wipe away a few tears that had collected in her lashes. They sat silently for several minutes as she worked to calm herself, and, when he lay back against his pack again, she also slowly lowered herself back to the ground. But her eyes remained open, her face unsettled.

He knew only one way to offer her comfort and so he extended his hand to her once more. She took it gratefully in both of hers, hugging the hand to herself, and he began to hum an old song of his childhood, one his mother had often sung to him and his brothers when it was time to rest. Several verses in, her breathing slowed and her eyes grew heavy once more, and by the end of the song she had slipped quietly back to sleep and lay dreamless til morning.

************

@konartiste as requested, a little variety from our usual Rohan/Gondor diet! And @dancerinthestorm since you just read chapter 1 and it’s still fresh in your mind! 🙂

#lord of the rings #lotr #tolkien #lotr fanfiction #haldir #haldir of lorien #lorien #lórien

[maironsmaid]

Irmo, Valar of Dreams and Visions, Master of Desire

#it's a rubber #silmarillion #valar #irmo lorien #irmo #jrr tolkien #jirt #valinor #lórien

[bethanydelleman]

Re-read Lord of the Rings recently and this stood out to me about Lórien. As an avid fairy tale/mythology reader, I don't know how I didn't notice before that they have trouble telling time when the Fellowship is there. That is classic Elf time mythology, where humans are lured into the elven world and then when they try to leave they find that decades have passed. Of course, these elves are good so the Fellowship isn't trapped indefinitely, but all of them kind of want to stay.

It also kind of explains how the elves manage to be immortal and not bored, since time kind of slips along for them.

#lord of the rings #Lórien #fairy tales

[riding-with-the-wild-hunt]

the fëanturi: námo, irmo, + nienna

#brought to you by me #edits #the professor’s world #the silmarillion #námo #irmo #nienna #valar #mandos #lórien #fave trifecta #fëanturi

[elithilanor]

Yo where’s the Celeborn thirst on this app? Like I’m not into him but I’m ace I have an excuse lol

#Celeborn #celeborn x reader #lotr #lotr imagine #lord of the rings #silm #silmarilion #Galadriel #Celeborn x Galadriel #Lórien #Lothlórien

[cilil]

Z - zzz's

Characters: Irmo/Estë

Synopsis: Estë goes looking for her sleepy husband.

Warnings: /

Drabble

"Have you seen the poppies? Irmo?"

Estë raises her voice slightly to call for her husband, but receives no answer. 

The poor dear must have fallen asleep somewhere again.

She wanders the rooms of their cosy home until she senses Irmo's presence and finds a fluffy white bunny with pink and purple spots between her flower pots, sleeping peacefully in the afternoon sun.  

"There you are," Estë smiles and picks him up, careful not to wake him. "And wearing such a lovely fána too!" 

Irmo's ears twitch sleepily and Estë kisses his little head. "Time to get you to bed."

taglist: @a-contemplation-upon-flowers @asianbutnotjapanese @edensrose @eunoiaastralwings @floraroselaughter @i-did-not-mean-to @singleteapot

alphabet challenge masterlist | main masterlist | tag list form

#fotfics #april alphabet challenge #irmo #lorien #lórien #irmo lorien #este #estë #irmo x este #irmo my love #valar #ainur #drabble #silmarillion #the silmarillion #silmarillion fanfiction #tolkien fanworks #tolkien fanfiction #tolkien #cílil writes #my writing

[hewalksinstarlight]

Silmarillion AU: The Ballet

Chris Rodgers-Wilson as Irmo, the Dream-Ruler, master of visions – his gardens are the Land of Dreams, the fairest of all places in the world, filled with many spirits. 

#silmedit #silmarillion #irmo #lórien #ballet au #chris rodgers-wilson #mine

[dirty-ainur-confessions]

"Let me make you feel better, baby." With Irmo, please?

❪ ♡ ❫ ── irmo , “ let me make you feel better, baby ”

"Oh have I been neglecting you that much, my poor little petal?"

You bite down onto the plump of your lip in an attempt to keep your slew of embarrassingly desperate moans as you careen your hips up into his hand and buck at the friction he so easily grants you.

"You're simply dripping my love. So wet for me?" Irmo tuts as he presses warm kisses that alight your skin with further want, further need, as displayed by your fingers that meekly tug at his light-coloured robes — desperate to see what is yours. "Yes. . . Y-Yes Irmo, only for you. Please," glistening eyes meet his and you can all but part your lips.

"Please, I need you."

A groan rumbles from the vala and he leans down to capture your lips as he shoves off any clothing keeping him from his prize. His large, dainty and soft hand cups your heat and his palm grinds into your sensitive little pearl so that you're gasping into his mouth. As a result he pushes his tongue past your lips and claims what is rightfully his once more.

You almost feel humiliated with how easily you take his finger, then a second, giving so much as a squeeze around the digits as they pump into your already squelching heat. All the whole his tongue overpowers yours, mingling and pressing into it just as the pads of his fingers curl into all the right bundles of nerves.

"I-Irmo," you whimper against his suffocating lips as he pulls away only in the slightest, seeming the least bit bothered by the string of saliva connecting you both. "Sssh," he hushes, his entire arm moving as he fucks you on his fingers just the way he knows makes your back arch and your toes curl.

"Just let me make you feel better, princess."

His thumb presses down to work at your clit and draw out the rest of your pretty noises as he twists, curls and thrusts his fingers into every little crevice he knew like the back of his hand. "Let me hear those pretty noises," he shudders, leaning down to your ear. "And I'll let you cum for me, princess."

#·⊰ ꒰🌹꒱ 𝐦𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐨𝐭 ៸៸ irmo ─ ♡. #irmo x reader #irmo #irmo lorien #lorien x reader #irmo lórien #lórien #the silmarillion #silm #tolkien #irmo smut #smut #minors dni #imagines

[sauronnaise]

Irmo sleeps in Lórien

#irmo #milker #melkor #all hail milker #our lord and saviour #milker apocalypse #tolkien #silmarillion #art #fanart #my art #shitpost #low quality #no effort #lórien #garden #flowers #yolo #you only sleep once

[fernpike]

lothlórien appeared to me in a dream like this once

#background stuff #lord of the rings #lothlórien #lórien #im almost 100% sure the river was celebrant but dream lothlorien was a strange place. i want to go back

[fellowshipofthenoodles]

Lórien and Ember are officially off to their forever home! They were picked up by a reptile courier this morning at 7am (😩) and are being driven over 300 miles before arriving at home tomorrow.

I’m going to miss them! I’m endlessly proud of how far Lórien came with us.

[id: 2 snakes; a before and after of Lórien, the black and grey cornsnake. In picture one she’s being held, and is very skinny, in the second she’s laying on her travel tub looking healthy; 1 peachy orange western hognose (Ember) laying in her hide in her travel tub]

#Lórien #the noodles #wahhh I have to tag them like this now #not ours but still loved #😭

[from-the-coffee-shop-in-edoras]

The Guardian, Chapter 5

In which we find out how Mildrithe ended up in Haldir’s care and some momentous decisions are made about her future. This is the last formal chapter, though there is an epilogue still to come. Prior chapters are here: one, two, three and four.

For the final time, here’s what I’ve deemed the official art of this little story, drawn by the very generous @brigwife

**********

It was late into the night by the time Mildrithe had finished relating her tale and later still before she had calmed enough to attempt any rest. Idhrien helped her to wash her face with a cool cloth to soothe her red, puffy eyes, and Haldir sat with her at their bedside, keeping a quiet watch until she finally gave in to exhaustion and drifted to sleep.

When he emerged from the bedroom at last, Idhrien was waiting for him, and she took note of his bowed head and slumped shoulders as he closed the door behind himself.

“It’s difficult to hear so much talk of violence and death from one so young,” she said, looping her arms around his waist and resting her chin on his shoulder. “But take comfort in knowing that you brought her to safety. Whatever happened in her past, her future doesn’t have to look like that anymore.”

“I fear it will be a long time before she can put that past behind her. If ever. Any one piece of her story would be hard enough on its own, but when you put them together…” The sentence drifted to an end, and he looked down at the floor. He had seen his share of brutality and tragedy over the ages – far more than any mortal would ever see during their brief time in Middle Earth – but he had a peaceful childhood first. His parents had shielded him from the worst of the world, kept him from learning the hardest truths until he was old enough to better understand them. To have had those truths thrust upon him at such a tender age as Mildrithe’s was unimaginable to him. He wasn’t certain he would have recovered.

“Children are resilient, Haldir. She has a will to live, or she wouldn’t have made it this far. She can still thrive. And if she hasn’t given up, neither should you.”

She tightened her arms around him, and the combination of her words and her grip put strength back into his spine. He straightened his shoulders and dropped a kiss onto the top of her head. “You’re right. Fate has dealt her some heavy blows, but it also put her in our path. And maybe we can help to fix it all now.”

They sat together at a small table and went back over every part of Mildrithe’s story, trying to isolate the details that might lead them to an idea of where she belonged and how to return her there. It was a confusing chain of events, pieced together from the incomplete knowledge of one far too young to comprehend the entirety of her own situation. He already knew the end of the tale – that when the company she was traveling with had been set upon by orcs, she fled to the nearby forest during the chaos – but the beginnings were much harder to decipher. Mildrithe gave them the name of her village, but she had no sense of where it sat within the borders of Rohan. She described an unexpected attack in the night but had no real idea who the attackers were or what motives they had. And when those attackers, mocking and contemptuous, had carried her off as the sole survivor of the village, she knew the misery and terror of that long journey but not its intended destination or purpose.

Her story had come out in irregular bursts, moving quickly and more assuredly over the parts that involved only herself, but lingering painfully on the descriptions of those who were now gone – friends, neighbors, her parents, an aged grandfather, and a beloved older sister, whose last act had been to shove Mildrithe into the small closet where she had weathered the worst of the fighting that night. All those loving presences in her life, cut down in a few short minutes, existed now only in her memories, which were themselves tenuous and fragmented.

“We have the name of the village. Surely we could find it and deliver her there,” said Idhrien. “We have maps, and the people of Rohan could steer us as needed.”

“But by her telling, the village no longer stands. It was burned to the ground when she last saw it, and who would have been left to rebuild? If she seemed certain of one thing, it was that she was the only one to make it out of there alive.” He rubbed a hand across his face and frowned. “What about the uncle she mentioned? The one who journeyed a long distance to visit them at Yule last year? If he lived elsewhere, then he likely survives, and we may be able to find him.”

Idhrien shook her head. “Haleth is a very common name in Rohan. With only that to go by and no idea of where to look, I fear it would be searching for a single leaf in the forest.”

They sat for a few minutes in quiet thought, both hoping for some inspiration to guide their fruitless efforts. When none came, he stood to pace and stopped only when the first hint of morning sun appeared in the window, throwing a warm square of light into his path back and forth across the floor. He sighed.

“I told Lord Celeborn last night that I would be back early to discuss the situation with him more fully. Perhaps I should go now before she wakes up again. Can you stay with her until I’m back?”

“Of course.” She gave him an encouraging smile. “I’m sure he’ll know what to do. He always does. If she wants to return to Rohan, he’ll find the right place for her to go.”

Haldir nodded and slipped out the door, and he was halfway down the stairs before his wife’s final sentence echoed back on him with enough force to stop him in his tracks. If she wants to return. All of his plans until this very moment had pointed in the same direction – to find a way to safely reunite Mildrithe with her people. But if those closest to her were all gone, if her only memories in Rohan were tainted now by heartbreak and fear…would she even want to go? It was the simplest of questions and, yet, one he hadn’t even considered. And as he pondered it now, it led him directly to an even more unexpected thought, one that dominated his mind as he walked back to the center of the city: maybe she could stay.

***

Celeborn was ready to receive him despite the early hour, and he listened carefully to Haldir’s recitation of all that he had learned from Mildrithe during the night.

“So there is no way to find a living member of her family to take charge of her in Rohan?”

“That seems to be the case,” said Haldir. “Unless you can see a clue that I’ve missed.”

“It’s a shame.” Celeborn shook his head slightly. “But if no family of her own can be found, then the Rohirrim will find a new family for her. It will be a more complicated matter to make the appropriate inquiries, but I’m sure it can be managed. Will you and Idhrien continue to care for her until we’ve made the right arrangements?”

“Yes, Lord Celeborn. If she has to return, we can—”

“If?” Celeborn cut in and fixed him with a long stare. “I was not aware there was any question on that point, Captain.”

The intensity of his gaze sent a flush creeping across Haldir’s cheeks and neck. He hadn’t intended to provoke a debate, but Idhrien’s words were still fresh in his mind and the ‘if’ came out before he had even realized it. “I only meant that she may not be eager to go back, given all that happened there.”

“So you propose that we keep this child in Lórien instead?”

“I’m not proposing anything.” The conversation felt like it was slipping out of Haldir’s control, the words getting ahead of his own thoughts. “I merely suggest that if it made her happy to stay here, such a thing could be possible.”

“Anything is possible. That doesn’t make it advisable. She’s a child of the plains, a mortal with no connection to our people or our way of life. She doesn’t belong in our forest, where she will be without peers. Without anyone who can truly understand her or know her feelings and experiences by instinct rather than only by careful study. She will be better served by being sent back.”

Everything he heard sounded both sensible and wise to Haldir, and yet something deep within him continued to resist. And to his amazement, he found himself arguing with the most powerful man in Lórien. “But Lord Celeborn, she would not be the first child of Men to live among the elves. It’s been done before with success.”

“And it has also led to ruin and destruction.” Celeborn sighed and softened his tone. “I do not mean to compare this little Rohirrim to the likes of Túrin Turambar. There is no shadow in her spirit, I could see that well enough myself last night. But the Men who have lived successfully with elves did so because they had a connection to us already. Estel did not just wander into Imladris to live with a stranger. His coming was part of a longstanding tradition, and he was already known to Elrond. This Rohirrim has no one here.”

“She has me.” His words surprised even himself as they came from his mouth, so quick and so certain. But once they were spoken, he knew they were true feelings of his heart. He raised his chin and met Celeborn’s eye.

“So that’s what this is about? Your wish isn’t just to see her stay in Lórien, but to see her stay with you.” He pursed his lips and thought for a moment. “If she wants to return to Rohan, you will take her, Captain. If she wants to stay, I won’t presume to tell you or Idhrien what to do with your own household. But I urge you to think this through. What seems like a good idea now may be something you all grow to regret in the future. Decide carefully.”

He rose to leave, and Haldir bowed his head before turning to walk back home again.

He couldn’t really account for his own words and behavior that morning. The depth of his attachment to Mildrithe continued to surprise him. As someone who always knew his own mind, it was disorienting to discover his feelings only as they came from his lips. And even while he was still reeling from those discoveries, the invocation of Idhrien sent a fresh wave of uncertainty over him. He had discussed none of this with her in advance and had no real idea how she would feel about his burgeoning hope to keep Mildrithe in his life. Their partnership was sacred to him, and he would do nothing that lacked Idhrien’s full support. But he felt a nervous flutter in his chest at just the idea of raising the question, and he hurried his steps to get back to her as quickly as possible.

***

When he returned home, Idhrien was no longer at the little table in the front room. He could hear the quiet murmur of voices from further back and followed them to the doorway of his bedroom.

Mildrithe was awake again and wearing one of Idhrien’s tunics as a dress. They were curled up together, and Idhrien had one of his sketchbooks in her hand, the one he used to create little forest scenes during his off hours on patrol. She was turning the pages for Mildrithe slowly and talking about the scenes as she went, spinning an impromptu tale that he couldn’t understand but that seemed to hold Mildrithe’s rapt attention.

He kept quiet and stood just outside the room, watching the two of them cuddled together and looking so comfortable. So natural. So right. A powerful feeling welled up in his chest, a rush of happiness and contentment mixed with melancholy and longing, and a thought crystalized in his mind with absolute clarity. This is something that I want.

Idhrien broke off mid-sentence to look up in his direction, and he realized that she had heard his thought in her own mind. She gazed at him for a moment, an unreadable expression on her face, before Mildrithe, too, looked up and saw him there. She rushed out a bunch of enthusiastic sentences, pointing frequently to the sketchbook, and he waited patiently until she was finished and Idhrien could translate for him.

“She likes your pictures of the fox and the fawn, and we’ve decided that they met and became friends in the forest. She wants you to teach her to draw so that she can make a whole book about their adventures together.”

He smiled. “I would be happy to teach the fawn how to draw.”

Idhrien set the sketchbook aside and said a few words to Mildrithe, and they rose from bed to have breakfast now that Haldir had returned. Idhrien nearly emptied their pantry, piling options onto the table for Mildrithe to choose from, and soon she was deep into her own enjoyment as she sampled all sorts of cakes and breads and fruits that were new to her. With Mildrithe thus engaged, Haldir took a seat at Idhrien’s side and covered her hand with his.

“You must think me irrational and foolish.”

“You’re many things, Haldir, but you have never been either of those. I know you and your heart. You are not a rash person. If this is something you feel drawn to, I know that it must be a deeply rooted feeling.”

“That doesn’t make it any less ridiculous.”

“Ridiculous how? That you see someone in need and want to help? That you had an intense experience that bonded you together? That you have love in your heart to give?”

He squeezed her hand. “That I could expect my wife to share those inclinations suddenly and without warning?”

She sat back in her seat and took a long, deep breath. “It would be ridiculous to think that I could understand everything of Mildrithe and your experience together from the small time I’ve had to take it in. But my natural impulse is to want to support you in all things, just as you do for me. And it’s not as though we’ve never talked about having young ones around.”

“This is very different than an elf child of our own making.”

“Yes. And you should go into this very clear-eyed about the implications and consequences of that. For her and for us.” She smiled at him. “But I am willing to try.”

He pressed her hand to his lips, overwhelmed with relief and gratitude, but she leaned in closer to him and looked him directly in the eye.

“But Haldir, she must want to stay. The choice must be hers, always.”

They both looked over at Mildrithe, who peered up at them from behind her pile of treats, aware from the energy in the room that something momentous was being discussed.

“Will you tell her?” he asked. “Explain to her what her choices are. Make sure she understands what they both mean and that only she controls the choice. That she can take as much time as she needs or ask as many questions as she wants or change her mind at any point.”

Idhrien drew her chair closer to Mildrithe and spoke for many long minutes. Mildrithe asked one or two questions but otherwise sat in silence. At times, her eyes widened or brow furrowed, and she looked increasingly troubled the longer that Idhrien spoke. He took a few deep breaths, readying his own expectations and making sure that he could greet whatever response she gave without outward disappointment on his face.

When Idhrien finally finished speaking, Mildrithe turned to Haldir once more and asked him a question directly. A tear or two welled up in Idhrien’s eyes as she listened, and he watched anxiously, unsure of what could be said that would have that effect on her.

“She asks if you think her parents would be disappointed in her for leaving Rohan.”

He swallowed hard on the lump that immediately formed in his own throat. Having been through so much, she was still thinking of others, and his heart wrung with pity. He reached across the table to take her hand. “I think they would be sad about what has happened, but they would be even prouder of you for how strong you are. And more than anything, they would want you to be happy. That’s all that any of us want. Choose whatever will make you happiest.”

Mildrithe listened to the translated answer and thought quietly for several minutes before speaking again to Idhrien.

“She wants to tell you something herself.” Idhrien nodded at Mildrithe, who got up and walked around the table until she was standing before Haldir.

She looked him directly in the eye and tapped her own chest before uttering one of the only words they had in common: “Lórien.”

He drew in a sharp breath, hardly daring to believe that he understood her correctly, but a quick glance at Idhrien confirmed everything and he thought his heart might soar right out of his chest. He scooped up Mildrithe and reached for Idhrien, and for a time he held onto them both, his mind bouncing rapidly from joy to terror to wonder and relief. Amidst all the turmoil, though, one feeling rose above the others, and he breathed out that feeling in his very first words to his new family. “Thank you.”

**********

Note: You’ll see an appearance of osanwé here, a concept Tolkien developed but didn’t often use explicitly. It means, essentially, the interchange of thought, and all peoples are capable of doing it as long as both minds are willing/open (though humans rarely master it, so it’s much more common among Ainur and elves). That’s canon. And I think because they are married and their connection is so deep, it can happen between Haldir and Idhrien even when he isn’t consciously intending it. As partners, their default is to be always open to each other, and when he has an insight as powerful as this one was, he can’t help but share it with her even before he realizes that’s what he’s doing.

@emmanuellececchi @konartiste as requested

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[ladyluz7]

Elves.

#legolas #lindir #haldir #lotr #mirkwood #rivendell #lórien

[sirioniel]

 On my daily walk.

 'Lórien! The Winter comes, the bare and leafless Day;

The leaves are falling in the stream, the River flows away.

O Lórien! Too long I have dwelt upon this Hither Shore

And in a fading crown have twined the golden elanor.'

J.R.R. Tolkien: The Fellowship of the Ring

Photos by me.

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