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elfy-elf-imagines · 9 months

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— Out of the Woods | Maedhros *✧･ﾟ

▹ Pairing: Maedhros x Reader

▹ Genre: Fluff and Angst

▹ Words: ~8k

▹ Summary: Thrust into the world of Arda, you find yourself enraptured by the elven lord Maedhros. Yet nothing is ever easy in times of war as your love story unfolds and then unravels.

▹ Notes: Hi, hello, this is about 6k words longer than I intended. Oh well. This is a rewrite of a oneshot I wrote yearsssss ago, but thought it deserved a rewrite. I hope you guys like this because I deleted the original. You have no choice, YOU WILL LIKE THIS MORE. Please tell me you like it, I crave validation. Jk, jk...unless.

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Golden.

Glittering and gleaming.

Opulent in an understated way and all too beautiful to be real.

It was the only way to describe the lavish keep the armored guards escorted you into. Men with delicately pointed ears and unnatural beauty were both your protectors and jailers as they paraded you through the city. You weren’t familiar with your surroundings, never even heard of it. You feel as though a place as beautiful as this would be pasted on every tourist’s brochure and dream board. And yet there was nothing familiar.

Even the people seemed so different from you.

“You have brought a mortal woman before me; why is that?” his voice boomed as he sat straight back and stiff as a board on a lavish throne. You were speaking with the presiding ruler if the golden crown atop his head was anything to go by. He was tall and regal, only made taller by the raised platform his throne was built upon, his figure looming over you with an intimidating presence.

His hair was like fire, falling in perfect waves that reached the middle of his back. His skin was porcelain and perfection, clear of any slight imperfections or marks that marred your own. He wore formal attire made from silk, with details of glittering gems that made him look like a sun. The heavy crown resting up his head was made of pure gold and dotted with jewels, each worth more than you’d ever make in a lifetime. But what captured your eyes were his own. Light green, they shone like the reflection of emerald leaves off a crystal clear lake. No poem or ballad could ever capture the beauty he possessed.

He was ethereal, the poster child for what a king should be.

One of the guards pushed you forward, and you nearly stumbled to the ground, but you’d caught yourself in time. You looked up at him, not even knowing his name yet and already being enraptured by him. A god, that’s what he has to be. There’s no other way he could look like that.

You must’ve died and now stand at the gates of heaven. In your current situation, the most illogical answer has become the only one that made any sense.

“T-they found me, your grace, in the...woods.” He raised an eyebrow at you, and your face flushed hotly as red stained your face. Did you address him adequately? Was there any correct way to address a literal angel?

His gaze on you was sharp, making you shrink within yourself. His hair may have been made of fire, but he was entirely crafted from ice. Cold, biting, and bitter, you were surprised your skin wasn’t frostbitten.

“She was rambling like a mad woman when we found her. Despite that, she seems harmless. We thought it best to present her for your judgment, your grace.” The guard spoke with a smooth and even tone, able to look at the elven man unflinchingly. Does one become accustomed to staring at the sun? They must if the guards can directly look at him.

“And so you deign to bring the mad woman before your lord?”

“Times are strange. She may be a gift from the Valar.”

A hush fell over the onlookers before a flurry of whispers filled the courtroom. The lord returned his attention to you, raising a single, inquisitive brow. He was assessing you, determining if there could be any truth to the guard’s words. It made you squirm under the weight of his eyes. They were too piercing and too invasive. He could see past your soul. Your deepest fears and thoughts were laid before him.

“Perhaps there is some merit to the words my guard speaks,” There was a lilt of amusement in his otherwise smooth, dulce voice. It nearly seemed mocking, the way he looked down on you. He leaned to the left side of his chair with his knuckles tucked under his sharp jaw, momentarily taking a more relaxed posture. Yet his gaze on you didn’t lighten; if anything, it became heavier.

“Have you been sent to us by the Gods?”

The throne room became quiet once more.

Your heart hammered against your chest, a lump stuck in your throat. All eyes were on you, the undivided attention making you want to curl in on yourself.

“I don’t know.” You mustered up the strength to speak, attempting to keep the fear drowning you out of your voice. Would he cast you out of the kingdom, leaving you to fend for yourself? You couldn’t survive in the woods alone, but you didn’t want to lie and be heralded as a sign of divine intervention.

You were stuck between a rock and a hard place, the room’s walls closing in on you.

All there was to be done was hope he was as kind as fair.

He hummed in response, neither angry nor pleased. There was no grand statement or judgment, instead, he continued to inspect every detail of you. His eyes scanned you up and down in an almost clinical manner like you were a new art exhibit in his favorite museum. He took notice of your odd clothes, maintained teeth, and healthy hair. Strange for a human in these lands to be so… well groomed. Even with the mud that caked your body, you were cleaner than the other humans before you.

“You place me in a strange place. If I send you away, it may anger the Gods, yet if I allow you to stay, I may be dooming the very people who’ve put their belief in me.” He spoke in such a calm tone as if the fate of your life didn’t rest in his long fingers, each embellished with a ring.

The anxiety made your body weigh a thousand pounds. You weren’t even sure your heart was beating, the impulse to check your pulse growing stronger. There was worry in your eyes, creases above your brows that were pulled together tightly.

Yet you didn’t speak, unable to make your tongue form words.

“Will you not plead your cause to me?” He leaned forward; both brows pulled upward, an almost challenging smirk pulling on his lips.

Rendered speechless and playing the fool, you opened and closed your mouth as you tried to remember how to speak.

He clicked his tongue against his teeth, leaning back into his seat, his smirk pulling back into a nearly disappointed frown.

“Very well. I shall make the decision for you.”

You prepared to be condemned to the wilds, thrown to the wolves who would surely tear you apart. Head lowered, eyes counting the reflections of sunlight inside the room. Tears threatened to fall, but you forced them away. You would face your imminent death with pride.

“You will stay here.

Gasps of surprise filled the room, followed by mutters of the courtesans. You made no such noise, head snapping up to meet the elven lord’s gaze. There was surprise evident in your wide-eyed gaze. You’d expected the worst, yet that was not what you’d been given.

“In time, we will learn if the Gods truly sent you to us.”

He nodded at the guards around you, and they helped you stand. Shaking and nervous, the guards held your body up as they guided you from the throne room to what would become your quarters. But over your shoulder, you spared one last glance at the elven lord, his green eyes watching your form disappear.

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“Sinome maruvan ar Hildinyar--” You stumbled over the elvish text, unable to translate the rest of the sentence. There was a crease above your furrowed brows and a slight frown on your face.

It had only been two months since you were unceremoniously dropped here, yet it felt as if no time had passed, but not in a good way. You were like a newborn babe, stumbling in the dark as you attempted to gain your bearings. The faint throb in your head warned you of a headache, encouraging you to put the book down. A warning you didn't heed, you were stubborn, determined to prove you could assimilate.

The court has been a dizzying experience to get accustomed to. Most courtesans treated you like a curiosity, a pretty bird for them to teach silly words and feed salted crackers. They were nice enough and greeted you with pleasant smiles, but it all felt patronizing. As if you were nothing but a simpleton child, but perhaps that’s just how they viewed you; elves were immortal, after all. Nevertheless, they have treated you kinder than expected, correcting your choppy Quenya with lyrical giggles and coy smiles.

The giant oak doors swung open, startling you. Looking up, you watched as Maedhros swept through the library. He grabbed a few books from the shelves and went to a table opposite the room. His hair was pulled back into a loose braid, and his clothes were more casual than what he would don at court. Your eyes followed his form, only looking down when he briefly looked up from his book.

Heat flared to your cheeks, eyes returning to the book before you. You haven’t spoken with him since your initial meeting. He’d never invited conversation, and you were too terrified to do so. Instead, you stole glances at him whenever the moment presented itself, content to daydream about the Maedhros turning his eyes to you.

He’d say hello, inquiring about your stay in Himring. You’d answer him shyly, looking up at him through your lashes. So enchanted by your beauty and quiet whit as the conversation continued, he’d invite you to take a stroll with him around the gardens and then--

Your daydreams were cut short by the loud thump of a book falling. Turning, you watched as one of the library attendants scurried towards the fallen three or so books. A soft sigh left your mouth, and your attention returned to the book you were struggling through.

Picking up where you left off, you struggled through the same sentence. No matter how many times you re-read it, the translation wasn’t clicking. What did tenn’ mean again? A grunt escaped your mouth, the pulsing headache returning. You shut the book, perhaps harder than necessary, and opted to fiddle with the bracelets you wore.

Was it even worth struggling through this silly language? Surely you’d return home sooner or later and this grand delusion would be broken.

Yet the longer you’d spent here, the less likely the prospect seemed. You poured over every map and searched every geographical book, and nothing seemed familiar to the home you’d known.

Lost in your mind, you didn’t hear the scratch of a chair being pushed back nor the light padding of footsteps approaching your table. Only when you felt someone’s presence beside you and red hair loosely hanging did you look up? Maedhros had stood beside you, leaned over to be at eye level with you. His expression was perfectly neutral, not portraying a single thought in his head. Tucked behind his back was his left hand, which he’d lost many years ago. There were whispers in court about how it happened, being hung from a cliff for thirty years. How terrible that must’ve been.

“You seem frustrated.” His common was not as smooth as his elvish, yet speaking a common language with someone was nice. Most of the elves here only spoke their native tongue.

“It’s nothing, your grace,” you looked away from his gaze that was entirely too invasive. You didn’t want to risk that he really could read your thoughts; you didn’t want him to see how often they lingered on him.

“Your lie would be convincing if you hadn’t spent the past hour stuck on the same page,” he breezily replied, pulling up a chair to sit beside you.

Has an hour already passed?

And how did he know you hadn’t flipped pages? Had he paid that much attention…?

“Some words are confusing in their translations; no need to be concerned.” You didn’t want him to burden himself with such a silly thing. This wasn’t something a lord needed to concern himself with. There was also a flush of embarrassment creeping up on you. You wanted him to see you as competent and intelligent, not fumbling over simple translations.

“Allow me to offer insight. It is my native tongue, after all.”

You stared at him for a moment, lips pursed. His expression never wavered, and you couldn’t think of any reason to dissuade him from helping you. Apprehensive, you grabbed the book you’d previously pushed away. There was a light shake in your body from nerves, and you prayed to whatever god there was that Maedhros wouldn’t notice.

Flipping through the page, more delicate with it than usual to avoid Maedhros thinking you disrespectful, you pause on the last page you’d read. You point at the sentence you were struggling with and push the book toward Maedhros.

He leaned forward to read the sentence, and you took the opportunity to appreciate his side profile. His facial structure was sharp, with a tall, noble nose and a strong jawline. Pristine and void of imperfections, he was even more beautiful this close up. With each breath taken, the warm, heady cologne was enough to send you into a dizzy spell. It wasn’t fair for one person to be so…perfect.

He whispered the sentence under his breath, then straightened his posture. As he did, you moved your eyes from his face, looking at the book as if that was where your eyes always were. His eyes met yours as he began to speak.

“Sinome maruvan ar Hildinyar tenn' Ambar-metta.”

You mimicked his pronunciation, awkwardly fumbling over the words as you did. The faint whisper of a smile appeared on his lips. However, as soon as it was there, it was gone.

“Do you know what it means?”

“No, I was having trouble translating.”

This time he allowed his lips to turn upward into a faint smile, eyes glimmering in the dim lighting of the room.

“It’s no wonder. This is in Sindarin. My understanding is you’ve been learning Quenya.” He reached over and grabbed the book, pulling it closer to him.

“What’s the difference?”

“Quenya is an older dialect, though many of the Noldar still use it, whereas Sindarin is a newer version of the Eldar language.”

You didn’t respond, simply nodding your head as you fiddled with the fabric of your dress. Maedhros closed the book much more gently than you initially did, though he made no move to stand.

“I apologize; I have yet to inquire about your stay here. Have you found the accommodations to your liking?”

His question was nearly word for word what you fantasized he would say to you. Was he teasing you? Could he truly read your every thought, or was it just a coincidence?

“They’ve been great, better than I could’ve hoped.” You were nervous, so nervous it wasn’t even a joke anymore. Why couldn’t you just be normal?

“And how do you find yourself settling in?” He seemed so relaxed and at ease; why can’t you be more like that.

“I’m getting accustomed, but it’s all so different from the home I knew. I will admit, it is refreshing to speak with someone in a language I am familiar with.”

Maedhros pauses, slightly tilting his head to the side, something flashing across his face.

“Forgive me; I did not think about how few people share a common language with you.”

You shook your head once again afraid of accidentally offending him. “It’s no issue; if anything, it forces my Quenyan to improve.” You wanted to be reassuring, to show that you were more than comfortable with your current circumstances. The last thing you needed was the king thinking you were being difficult or ungrateful.

“But it must be frustrating not being able to convey your thoughts clearly.”

You merely shrugged in response. It was, and sometimes it made you want to scream and break something, but you couldn’t admit that. You didn’t want to seem ungrateful.

Maedhros hummed in response and pushed his chair back, now standing at full height.

“I must part from you, but perhaps we could meet here again tomorrow, if only so I may offer my translating abilities.”

A tentative smile appeared on your face, and you nodded in agreement. Maedhros tilted his head in a slight nod and turned, exiting the room with a flourish.

Only once you were left alone did you let a high and girlish giggle leave your mouth. It echoed in the quiet library, and unbeknownst to you, Maedhros heard it on the other side of the door.

And so a new tradition began as you and Maedhros met in the library every evening. You’d spend hours with one another, and within the first week, the excuse of studying linguistics had been forgotten. Enraptured in the presence of one another, you were both entirely unaware of the impending war.

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You were waiting by the gardens.

Wearing a new dress, fiddling with the bracelets that adorned your wrists. You were so nervous yet equally excited. Maedhros had broken tradition, and instead of meeting you in the library, he asked to meet you near the gardens.

Your heart was in your throat; nervous goosebumps were all over your skin. It was truly as if all of your fantasies had come to life. Light footsteps echoed on the marbled flooring, and it made you turn. Maedhros, your intended partner, walked towards you, taking long strides.

A smile was placed on your lips, and Maedhros matched it. Long ago had he shed the detached demeanor he so often presented to the rest of the world. Instead, he was open with his emotions - both good and bad - allowing himself to be vulnerable with you in a way so few people have witnessed.

“You came,” he spoke as he closed the distance separating the two of you.

“How could I refuse?” Your smile widened, eyes in the shape of crescent moons. He laughed, low and smooth, offering his arm to you. Your hand wrapped around the crook of his arm, and it fits as if your hand was met for his.

“Shall we?”

You motioned with your hand towards the gardens. “We shall.”

The two of you walked in near perfect sync, wandering through the gardens, making quiet conversation with explosive banter. He was not as stern and rigid as he once appeared. With the moonlight reflected in his eyes and the stars making him shine, he seemed more like an innocent child than a hardened warrior burdened with war and trauma.

You wanted to see this side of him every moment of every day. To see his eyes resemble glass and to hear his hearty chuckle as he threw his head back. Eventually, you gave up the guise of being interested in the flowers, even though they were quite beautiful. All your attention was focused on Maedhros, a sight you were determined to imprint in your brain.

If you were to wake up tomorrow, back in your old bed, in your old apartment, you’d be happy to remember this moment and this moment only. You’d dedicate the rest of your life to writing poems about him, painting portraits, and writing overly embellished love stories. Anything to commemorate Maedhros and everything you’d wanted with him. Even if he didn’t return your affections quite as fiercely.

“Tell me about your home. You never speak of it.”

Your expression fell, your smile dimmed, and your eyes downturned. Home. You hadn’t really thought of it as much. It used to be a constant thought, a thing you wished on every falling star to return to. But now… You couldn’t remember the last time you made that wish.

“It’s…different.” You fumbled over your words. How do you explain something you yourself hardly understand?

“In what way?” Maedhros pries, wanting to know more information. You’d be flattered in any circumstance or with any different topic. Yet the subject of home was complicated and one you hadn’t dared to broach with anyone.

“In every way.” A breezy laugh escaped your mouth, hoping to distract how tense you suddenly became.

“I’d like to hear it all if you’d be willing to tell me.”

“I--” You stuttered over the words, a lump caught in your throat. You wanted to tell Maedhros to bear your entire soul to him, but an inkling of fear gave you pause. Would he deem you a mad woman? Distancing himself and becoming as aloof as he once was.

Yet the two of you had grown so close as of late, and if you’d ever hoped to be more than friends, it would only be fair, to be honest.

“I don’t think I’m from this time.” You began, unsure of the best way to start.

Maedhros stopped, turning to face you. You nearly stumble but manage to catch yourself, meeting Maedhros’ gaze.

“In what way?”

You swallowed the lump in your throat, pressing your hand into a fist. Fortune favors the bold. You have to be bold if you want this.

“I believe when I was dropped here, I was dropped in the past. My world is so different and so much more advanced in terms of technology.”

He gave you a hard stare, not speaking for a few minutes. The moments of silence dragged on, and you were half tempted to flee and never return. Yet your body had become so heavy, and your feet were bolted to the ground. There would be no escape.

“I don’t know why, but I believe you.” He spoke slowly, as if unsure of his own words as he said them. “At the very least, I believe you believe in what you say, and you have given me no reason to distrust you.”

Your breath that had been caught in your throat was suddenly released as your body slackened. The wide grin you previously wore returned to your face, all the worry lines and creases on your face melting away.

“You have no idea how relieved I am to hear that.” You were breathless, a weight you hadn’t even realized was weighing you down, relieved from your chest.

“I can only imagine how you must’ve felt, how confused you were.” His tone was soft and took a somber note, his eyes closer to an emerald green than the light color they previously were.

“I managed to get by.”

Maedhros nodded, a smile tugging on the edges of his lips.

“Well, please indulge me then, and tell me all the wonders of your home. I’m sure you’ve longed to do as such; you assimilated so quickly, I never would’ve thought you were from a completely different time.”

You stared at him a moment longer, a breath caught in your throat. Yet this time, it wasn’t from nerves or anxiety; no, the pounding in your chest was for an entirely different reason. It had everything to do with the softness in Maedhros’ eyes as he looked at you.

And so you indulged his every question and whim, the two of you wrapping around the garden a million times, talking until the moon was at the highest point in the sky, and all was silent.

You were exhausted, holding back yawns every other sentence, but you pushed through, soaking in the time with Maedhros. Who knew when you’d get another chance? But eventually, he caught on, noticing the droop of your eyes and the lethargic pace you walked with.

He guided you back to your chambers with all the chivalry gone from your world. You expected him to say farewell and give a single nod, as he always did when parting ways. He did bid you farewell, his smile warm and vibrant, and he did dip his head into a nod.

But he also placed a kiss on the very edge of your lips before turning and disappearing down the hall.

Frozen, you stood there for who knew how long, face awestruck and hand resting where his lips previously had been.

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Time had seemed nothing more than an illusion.

It seemed to move around you, yet you were the same, unchanged by it. Physically, you may appear the same, yet everything is so entirely…different. Maedhros made quick work of letting you know he intended to court you, and who would you be to deny it.

All the formalities and technicalities that came with courting royalty was dizzying, but Maedhros was always there to center you. Strolls through the gardens and long evenings in the libraries; it made everything more bearable. It was also worth the stiffness that came with court to see the child-like grin that would light up Maedhros’ face when it was just the two of you.

But doubt was a terrible thing.

You constantly feared you wouldn’t live up to not only his expectations, but the expectations of his people. You were a human among elves, and despite not aging, you knew the court talked. Their fascination with you long died out, and anyone who believed you were sent by the Gods was the minority. They hid sharp words behind pretty smiles and musical laughter, but you could see through the fakeness all the same. Their cruel words only helped reinforce the doubts you already had.

And you weren’t the only one weighed down by it.

Maedhros was a far cry from what he used to be. Before the oath, before the torment, and before all the death at the hands of his kin. Could he really be so selfish as to tie you down to him? You were blind to this of course. You knew he suffered from PTSD and trauma, but even as you held him under the light of the moon, you were never aware of just how deep his fears went.

How when he wept in your arms, it wasn’t only for what he suffered, but what he may suffer when you decide you want better. When you finally realized he wasn’t enough for you.

His anxiety twisted into something harsh, manifesting as anger rather than sadness. Yet even as he lashed out, you stayed. Your face would remain perfectly passive, seemingly unbothered by it.

It was another one of those nights.

You both sat on the balcony attached to his chambers, feet dangling over the edge. It was improper for you to be in his bed chambers, especially so late at night, but you couldn’t care about court etiquette at a moment like this.

Your arms were wrapped around Maedhros, keeping him as close to you as physically possible. His head rested in the crook of your neck, eyes shut as his breathing matched the rhythm of your heart. All was quiet except the occasional sniffle from Maedhros. But after a few moments he was the one to break it.

He pulled himself away from you, not an inch of his body touching yours. His relaxed posture suddenly seemed so tense and proper; an austere expression falling over his face. The sudden change was enough to give you whiplash, all the worst of your insecurities coming to head.

A moment passed before Maedhros stood, returning to his chambers. Tentatively, you stood, following after him. What made him suddenly change, as if a light had been switched?

He walked across the room, to the decanter holding a red wine. Maedhros took his time pouring it into a crystal glass before bringing it to his lips and nearly downing it all in one drink. He sent it down and refilled the glass, continuing the same pattern.

The entire time he refused to meet your gaze. Awkwardly you say at the end of his bed, intertwining your fingers in an attempt to distract yourself. It hadn’t worked, all your fears growing the longer Maedhros held the silence. Was it a contest? Was he waiting for you to poke and prod?

“We should dissolve our courtship.”

If you hadn’t already been sitting, you could’ve fallen to your knees. One simple sentence, that was all it took to make the past years come crumbling to nothing.

“What?” Your voice was barely louder than a whisper. “Why?”

Another glass of wine drank and another glass filled before he dared to answer.

“While I have enjoyed your company, I do not believe us suited to continue any further,” he said. Even still, he refused to meet your eyes. His hand gripped the table he stood before, his grip so tight you were half surprised it didn’t crack under the weight of it.

“So that’s it.” Your voice was like stone; hard, cold, and unwavering. “You decide to end our courtship, yet you can’t even look me in the eye as you do it.”

Maedhros didn’t move from his position, you however, stood from the bed.

All the anger and frustration, needling insecurities and self doubt came bubbling to the surface. You didn’t bother to push it down, or rationalize it so much you can’t even feel anymore. It came together in one chaotic concoction and exploded.

“Look at me.” You weren’t shouting, but there was force behind your tone. A warning and a threat all in one. Yet Maedhros still kept his back to you. You took three more steps towards him, nearly behind him.

“I said look at me.” The volume of your voice became louder, the stone facade breaking and cracks of desperation shone through you. You couldn’t understand why he was doing this, you’d thought he loved you the same way you loved him.

Had it all been a mistake, were there signs and clues you’d missed along the way?

Finally Maedhros turned to face you, and within moments all of your anger dissipated. Tears streamed down his cheeks, unshed ones exaggerating his red rimmed eyes. He looked absolutely broken, the worst you’d ever seen him.

“Why are you doing this?” You dropped the facade of nonchalance. Tears began to well in your eyes, a slight waver in your voice as you spoke.

Still he didn’t speak.

You closed the distance separating the two of you, grabbing his hand in yours, but he pushed you away. Still you attempted to grab it again and this time he didn’t bother rejecting your touch.

“Mae please, what is the real reason for this?” You looked up at him like a doe, so wide-eyed and teary. Any shred of conviction he previously held onto crumbled as he looked at your face.

He thought marrying you would be selfish, but perhaps this was the more selfish option?

“You deserve better. I can’t give you what you deserve.”

A crease formed on your forehead as your brows furrowed.

“Fuck it.”

Maedhros blinked, stunned by your brash words. For a moment he thought he might’ve misheard, he’d never heard you speak like that. But it would appear he hadn’t misheard you.

“What?”

“I said, fuck it. I love you, and you love me, and god dammit, if you’re not best for me then I don’t want better.”

You moved one of your hands from his, cupping his chin, forcing Maedhros to meet your gaze, an attempt to show the sincerity in every word spoken.

“I love you, and there’s not a damn thing you can do about it.”

Your words hung in the room, imprinted on the floorboards and the walls.

The Maedhros’ lips were on yours. The kiss was quick and fervent, expressing everything he’d never be able to put into words. All the love and fear that clung to him like a shadow; his entire soul was laid before you. It was dizzying - you were drowning at sea, and Maedhros was your only lifeboat.

You clung to his form, never able to get close enough, one of your hands wrapped around his lithe form while the other reached towards the nape of his neck, gently tugging on his hair. He groaned against your lips and you swallowed the noise, deepening the kiss.

Closer, closer, you needed to be closer.

He pulled you just as tight as you were pulling him, just as desperate if not more so than you were. His one arm wrapped around your waist and held you against his body. His scent was intoxicating, that same heady cologne he’d been wearing when you first spoke in the library. Your teeth clacked against his, but you couldn’t find it in you to care. You needed him to know that every word you’d said, you’d meant.

There wasn’t a universe you wanted to exist in without him.

And while that thought terrified you, you repressed it, opting to deal with it later.

Maedhros needed to know you were all in, and you’d spent the rest of eternity convincing him if need be.

At some point he pulled back, the rise of fall of both of your chest and heavy breathing the only sound in the room.

His hand moved from your waist and into your hair, finger combing through it. There were stars in his eyes that you surely replicated.

“Forgive me, I was being foolish. I don’t want our courtship to end, you’re the woman I want to marry. I never want to leave your side and I promise to never send you away, I swear it.”

A smile, small and delicate, lit up your features as you frantically nodded in response. Maedhros huffed out a laugh, pressing his forehead against yours, muttering elvish endearments against your skin.

You closed your eyes, basking in his presence and the musical sound of his voice.

Oh to freeze this moment and live in it forever.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

Everything was silent and calm, but not in a way that would be soothing and leave behind a sense of weightlessness. Instead, it was harsh and grating, mile-high walls building up around you as you subconsciously prepared for...something. Anything that would cause a ripple and disturb this illusion that encased you.

You couldn’t deny it anymore and continue to make excuses for what was so clearly right in front of you. War had brought devastation, and with that came change, and with change came the end of a life you’d built. For so long, Maedhros was able to ignore the Oath he and his brothers had sworn. The Silmarils were forgotten but only for a time. Word had reached Ossiriand that the son of Beren and Luthien had inherited the Silmaril his parents had recovered.

Maedhros, once noble and as bright as the sun, now appeared worn and haggard, his eyes bearing the weight of a consuming madness. Restlessness gnawed at his soul as his insatiable quest for the Silmarils tightened its grip on his heart.

It was only a matter of time before the bubble burst, and you could no longer delude yourself into thinking he was still the same man you fell in love with.

“Maedhros,” you said quietly in hopes of not sparking another argument. “Are you certain this is the wise decision?”

He turned to you, his eyes stern and calculating. It was a stark difference from the love and warmth they used to be lit by. Instead of looking into the sun, you were staring into a fiery furnace.

“It is my duty, as well as my brothers, to honor the Oath we swore to our father. I have no doubt this is the right course of action.” He sounded so detached when he spoke to you. It was the same way he talked to commanding officers and diplomats, not how he should speak to his wife. Not the way he used to talk to you.

The fear you’d felt, the drop of your heart each time you looked into his eyes, intensified. He was teetering on the precipice of madness. You bit your lip, mulling over the right words to keep him from falling off the ledge.

“I understand your quest,” your voice trembled with slight trepidation despite your best efforts to keep it even. “But Maedhros, the toll it’s taking on you…I fear for your well being.”

His eyes bore into yours, a mixture of frustration, impatience, and slight madness evident in his gaze. It made you nearly flinch, but you held your ground.

“You doubt me?” His voice had an edge so sharp it cut you like a knife. It intensified your anxiety, but you swallowed it, steeling yourself against your nerves.

“I don’t doubt your intentions, Maedhros,” she replied, her voice steady now, “but I fear for what this obsession is doing to you.”

Your words seemed to strike a chord within him, his anger momentarily giving way to a flicker of doubt. A moment of clarity within his addled mind. “You think I don’t know the burden I bear?” he murmured, his voice softening now, but the anger still lingered beneath the surface.

“I know, my love,” you replied, much softer this time. You crossed the room’s threshold, gingerly sweeping your knuckles across his cheek. His eyes flutter shut, momentarily allowing your soothing touch to wash over him. “But I can’t bear to see you suffer like this. Your people need you. I need you. Not just as a leader but as a husband too.”

His eyes opened, and the green within them softened as his anger began to wane. Yet the turmoil was still evident within him. He was a man fighting two wars, one war with the forces of Morgoth and the second war within himself.

“It’s not easy for me either, and I curse the day I swore that oath.” His confession made the flicker of hope within you get bigger. Perhaps you’d successfully pulled him from the ledge. “But I cannot turn away from my destiny.”

Just as soon as it appeared, the hope was snuffed out; stubborn and proud, you now cursed what you used to admire about him most.

“But at what cost, Maedhros? The Oath has led to nothing but tragedy and death. You are losing yourself in this darkness, forsaking all that once mattered. Look around you! Our people suffer, our family crumbles, and still, you are blinded by this madness!” Desperate and pleading, you tried to force him to see reason.

As if your touch was made of acid, Maedhros pulled away and sidestepped you, a sea separating you from him. The anger returned to his eyes as they hardened once more. The brief moment of vulnerability was gone, and it was difficult to remember if it had ever even been there, to begin with.

“And for what? For some gems that shine prettily,” you continued; he needed to hear your words, to taste the venom behind them. If he held even an ounce of love for you, he would heed your warning. But your words seemed to fall on deaf ears, lost amidst the blaze of anger that threatened to burn the whole world.

“You know nothing of the weight I carry,” he snapped, his voice cutting through the air like a freshly sharpened sword. “You are my wife, not an advisor; quit constantly questioning me and stand by my side as you were intended to.”

The words caught in your throat faded, replaced with a bitter taste of the last bit of love and hope you held for Maedhros dying. Your eyes fell to the floor; there was nothing left to do. The butterflies he incited within you had turned to ash. Everything the two of you built crumbled, and Maedhros gladly helped, knocking down the pillars it once stood upon.

The Maedhros you loved was long gone; what stood before you now was a shell of the man he once was.

“If that’s the way you feel.” It was all you uttered before exiting the room, leaving Maedhros in the dimly lit room with nothing but anger and regret. He wanted to call out to you, to beg you to stay and reassure you he hadn’t meant it. But the grip of madness was unyielding, and even in the depths of sorrow, it would not relent.

The Silmarils that had once been a beacon of hope now seemed to mock him, and the emptiness in his heart felt like a chasm he could never fill.

In the stillness of the night, as Maedhros lay slumbering, you stole away into vast open fields. Cloaked in the darkness that came with night, you ran, nowhere in particular, just so long as it was as far away from Maedhros. Your heart was heavy with the weight of your decision and the finality of the ending of a love you thought would last forever. Yet the echoes of the argument lingered; his harsh words and austere face were a haunting reminder of what had been lost.

“It’s better this way,” you told yourself.

You would carry the memory of Maedhros until your dying day, praying that he might find solace and release from his Oath. But you couldn’t count on it, and you wouldn’t waste your days hoping he’d change.

“It’s better this way,” you repeated once more.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

The warm glow of the sun was waning, warning you of the impending cloak of night.

You stood on the cliffside, staring into the waters below, feet buried in the overgrowth and dirt. The air was cool, and the world was quiet. So serene and perfect that it was hard to believe it was real. You burrowed your feet deeper into the dirt, desperate to ground yourself into reality.

The mellowness of your surroundings eased the grief within your heart. War was over, and the suffering you’d endured was but a distant dream. Residing in the lands of Aman, you could forget your life had been anything other than something full of beautiful poetic prose.

Yet it was hard to let go of all of your pain. But as time passed, it became twisted, no longer the stabbing pain of a needle. It poured from you into a melancholia that you would use to paint all your skies a dark blue. It lingered in the edges of your landscape, blurred in the edges and nearly unseen by anyone except for you.

A soft hum escaped your mouth as you allowed the sound of cascading waves to fall over you. Eyes fluttered shut, the faint mist of water touching your body.

You only opened your eyes once the sound of footsteps was heard. Your posture stiffened, ears sharpening to hone in on the sounds of the intruder. No one dared to intrude upon you, and if they did, it was preemptively planned, never just a sudden visit.

Slowly, you turned, but you were still surprised even though you didn’t know what to expect.

Standing before you, as tall and proud as the day you’d first met, was Maedhros. He was vibrant and real, only a hint of tentative uncertainty marring his neutral expression. He stopped a few paces away, silent as you took him in. Framed by the soft glow of the golden rays of sunlight, he was just as you remembered him, yet with an unmistakable touch of time.

It wasn’t in the traditional ways of humans; there were no wrinkles and lines imprinted on his face. It was all in the eyes, the centuries of wisdom, pain, and suffering making them heavier than they once were.

He’d died. You knew that. He cast himself into the fire alongside his brother when he could no longer possess the Silmarils. It was said they burned him upon contact and it was a fate too terrible for him to live. You’d wept for days on end upon learning his fate.

And yet here he was, as real as the day you’d met.

“Maedhros.” His name hung in the air as if you were unsure it was truly him. He simply nodded, an affirmation that he was really here, standing before you.

Silence stretched between the two of you, your eyes locked in a gaze that spoke the words your lips couldn’t find. There was a tempest of emotions within you - joy, relief, curiosity, and a lingering sense of hurt you couldn’t fully let go of.

And then, like the first rays of sunrise, a smile graced Maedhros’ lips, and it was as if the years spent separated vanished. The arguments disappeared with them, leaving only an overwhelming happiness to see him standing before you. Your strides were sure as you stepped towards Maedhros, and he helped to close the gap, your arms weaving around his body as you embraced him for the first time in years.

He smelled just how you’d remembered, and you buried your face into his chest, determined to remember how his arm felt around your waist.

“Is it really you?” you whispered, your voice trembling with a mix of disbelief and delight.

You felt the rumble of Maedhros’ slight laughter as he nodded his head. “ Yes, it’s me, my love.”

You pulled back slightly, just enough that you could see his face but close enough that you could feel the warmth he radiated. “I- I can’t believe it; how is this even possible?” You were nearly out of breath as you spoke, eyes searching for answers within his.

“A twist of fate, I suppose. I was released from the Halls of Mandos, my time of repentance done.” A hint of a smile tugged at the corner of his lips, his grip on you tightening. “I should have listened to you the night that you left. You were right, and I was just to--”

You cut him off by placing a searing kiss on his lips. His words were forgotten, the long speech he’d probably been preparing since the moment you left cut off. There would be an eternity for forgiveness and apologetic words. Right now, you just wanted to remember how his lips had felt on yours.

He melted into the kiss, his lips just as sweet as you’d remembered them to be. The years melted into oblivion; it was just you and Maedhros, with nothing severing the love you held. The kiss was a mixture of vehement remorse and a promise to never forsake the promise of love he’d made to you. Time slowed as the two of you savored the moment, fully immersed in the warmth of his body and the taste of his lips.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, painting the sky in hues of orange and pink, you and Maedhros stayed tangled in one another. You’d both been given a second chance, something you hadn’t dared to think would be possible. And yet here he was, so intertwined with you it was hard to see where you ended and he began. It was a chance to reignite a love that had never fully died out.

#maedhros imagine #maedhros x reader #maedhros #lord of the rings imagine #the silmarillion imagine #lord of the rings #the silmarillion #lord of the rings oneshot #tolkien #lotr #lotr imagine #silmarillion #angst #lotr fluff

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thelien-art · 6 months

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I love your art and sketches so much! Was wondering if you'd be open to sketching Fingon and Idril? I have such a soft spot for their little relationship even though there's absolutely nothing in canon about it :)) No pressure whatsoever of course. Thanks for sharing your beautiful art!

Thank you♡

Here, a small half colored sketch

I needed a break for the calendar and this intrigued me - I actually never thought that much about their relationship but rn my brain is filled with thoughts about them XD

#tolkien #silmarillion #jrr tolkien #fingon #findekano #idril #idril celebrindal #silm art #my art #digital art #can anyone point me to any fics with these two #like just pure fluff fics #?#wasnt sure if i wanted to give idril longer hair or not as shes only half noldor #serious woman serious child #nah i think she was a laughing child

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elficially-done-with-life · 6 months

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You Are Beautiful To Me

Pairing: Caranthir x fem!Reader

Summary: Celegorm and Curufin are mean to Caranthir because of the way he looks and you try to make him feel better.

Warnings: self-doubt (with a happy ending)

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

Caranthir's cheeks were flaming red as he hid in his room.

Celegorm and Curufin had been teasing him all afternoon, and that was only because they wanted to know how red his cheeks could get if they just kept going for long enough.

They had both laughed and found it incredibly funny, while Carathir's self-confidence and any respect he had for himself had sunk further and further.

Then he had hit rock bottom. He had started to cry.

It was only then that both Celegorm and Curufin had looked at him with concern, but the damage had already been done. Caranthir had run away and hid and he had no intention of ever leaving his room again. If they found him so ugly, they would never have to see him again.

After all, his presence seemed to bother them so much, perhaps it would be better if he was simply no longer there.

Then he suddenly heard a soft noise, like a gust of wind, and his window flew wide open and you came stumbling in somewhat inelegantly.

"Celegorm would not tell me where you were, so I decided to look for you myself," you said, "And, well, there was a light on in your window, so I thought you were- "

And that's when your eyes fell on his cheeks, smeared with tears.

"Cara, what- ? "You paused and seemed to think until you suddenly seemed to realise something, "Oh, I will throw Celegorm out of a window the next time I see him!"

Towards the end of the sentence, your voice became softer and softer, and you slowly moved closer to Caranthir until you knelt on the ground in front of him.

"What did they say this time?" you asked quietly, looking at him lovingly.

Caranthir looked up slowly, only to drop his gaze again as he felt even more warmth rise in his cheeks.

"The usual," he mumbled a little too shyly. When it came to his appearance, it could make him very insecure, but whereas with other people he got angry, with you he became very shy.

You gently reached out and put your hand under his chin to get him to look at you.

Caranthir's face was flushed red and his normal skin was barely distinguishable from his freckles.

Slowly, you moved your hand from his chin to his cheek and gently stroked it with your knuckles.

"You are beautiful, Cara," you murmured, leaning forward to wrap your arms around his middle and pull him closer to you. Then you leant forward and began to place gentle kisses on his cheeks where his tears had run down.

"You think so?" asked Carathir, who didn't look like he had much energy left to argue with you.

"Yes, I am more than sure. "You pushed your hands further up and began to stroke them through his hair. "You are the most beautiful person in the world."

With a tired sigh, Caranthir let his head fall onto your soft chest and snuggled up to you.

You giggled softly, a sound that had a soothing effect on him.

You just sat there for a while, enjoying each other's warmth. Again and again Caranthir asked if you meant everything you said, and each time you felt your heart break a little for him.

"Oh Cara, I- "

"So you don't think it would be better if I didn't exist?" he asked nervously.

You gently pressed a kiss to his hair. "I would not want to live in a world without you."

"And if you just forgot about me?" Caranthir murmured lightly.

"Firstly, that will not happen and secondly, I would still know that a part of me is missing." you whispered. "I love you."

Caranthir buried his face deeper into your chest. "I love you too."

After a while, you heard footsteps approaching the door and then Celegorm's voice from outside asking, "Can we talk?" He sounded a little embarrassed. Good. Maybe that would stop him from being mean to Caranthir in future.

"We're really sorry. We didn't mean to hurt you," Curufin said, who was apparently standing next to Celegorm.

"Should I go out and fight for your honour?" you asked quietly, but Caranthir shook his head as he laughed softly.

"Just ignore them," he muttered. "I do not wish to talk about it anymore today. I will talk to them tomorrow."

"If you say so," you whispered, "should I stay here tonight?"

"I would love that." he whispered back.

#caranthir #caranthir x reader #tolkien #tolkien x reader #x reader #fluff #silmarillion x reader #silm #silmarillion #elves x reader #feanorians #feanorians x reader

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cilil · 8 months

Text

Imagine Eönwë playing with some Elf children in Valinor and showing them how to hold their toy swords while they reenact epic battles of the First Age. He then offers to be a big bad Balrog they can fight, but one of the children lowers their toy sword despite his encouragement and just pets his wings with their small chubby hand, saying they don't want to accidentally hurt him, and Eönwë is trying so hard not to cry because a tiny incarnate being so determined not to hurt the greatest warrior among the Maiar is the most precious thing he's ever seen

#eonwe #eönwë #elves #valinor #fluff #wholesome headcanons #silmarillion #ainur #maiar

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elevenelvenswords · 2 months

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The soft glow of Laurelin's fading light poured through the stained glass window. It broke and bled into sylphlike rays, bathing the chamber in bashful gold and crimson. Upon the single bed placed close to the windowsill, Curufin shifted, angling his book towards the light. The elegant Tengwar scribbled across the pages danced giddily beneath the newly acquired gleam, and more steadily he managed to follow the text then.

Like the precious, conscientious son he was, he did his father’s bidding- extensive studies of metallurgical work were required to find a solution to the most recent impediment in the alchemical works in their forge. One of the newly discovered gems, brought forth by Aulë himself, proved too great a challenge in terms of fine sculpting, and even Fëanor seemed at a loss when they discussed alternative techniques. Thus, it fell on him to revise old writings and annotations. It hadn’t been necessary for his father to actively ask it of him- chief heir to Fëanor’s renowned skills, crowned in unyielding determination, Curufin concluded in no time that it was expected of him. He took it upon himself ungrudgingly, prioritizing this one task above all else.

A neatly arranged pile of books and leathered notebooks lay now on his nightstand. He briefly glanced at them before wetting his thumb with the tip of his tongue and turning the page. What scarce information he managed to find among the writings he borrowed from the library proved of little relevance to his research, and despite the mounting frustration he found himself stifling a yawn.

Too many hours into the night spent reading, and sketching, and reading again had taken their toll on him. Blinking repeatedly against the sleepiness that tugged at his eyelids, he resolved to make himself more comfortable.

Barely had he turned, allowing his weight to sink comfortably into the mattress, eyes fluttering shut beneath the beckoning weariness, when a shrill shriek pierced through the air. Curufin lifted his eyes from the book at such an ear-piercing sound, yet remained motionless. The sound seemed oddly familiar, youthful and tremendously distressed. It most certainly did not belong to any of his brothers.

Huh.

Another scream tore through the walls, and for one gut-wrenching moment Curufin pieced it together.

It sounded dangerously close to Celebrimbor's room.

Some savage instinct screamed at him to move, and before he knew it, Curufin was up on his feet. Almost violently he wrenched the door open, bolting through the corridor. With an urgency that surprised him, he crossed the long hall with panicked steps, mind racing and heart plummeting in his chest.

What could possibly cause his son to scream like that? Were the servants not around his quarters like he had ordered them? Did he forget to properly close the windows before departing to the library? Could it be that Celebrimbor found something sharp to toy with?

What if he was hurt?

He had left Celebrimbor unsupervised but for one evening. His wife had told him she would be visiting the downtown market with the lady Indis, insisting she should take Celebrimbor alongside her, until Curufin suggested otherwise.

Fear not, I will keep an eye on him, he had assured her, proud conviction that he was an apt and responsible sire urging him on. His father had managed seven of them with exceptional ease, surely he could do just as well with one young elfling.

As the screaming continued with increasing intensity, he finally spotted the door to his son’s room. Worry gnawed at him as each second seemed infinite and deadly in its delay. One lonely servant was just rounding the corner marking the midway of the hallway, several plates, bowls and porcelain mugs carefully balanced in her hands. Curufin knocked over them with his elbow in his hurry, sending them clattering to the floor. The servant yelped in surprise as the royal dinnerware broke into myriads of sharp shards, but Curufin barely acknowledged it. He made his way past it all, grabbing onto the doorknob, swinging the door open.

Panting with effort and panic, Curufin took in the surroundings. The room was as tidy as he had left it, nothing misplaced or otherwise unnatural. The windows were, thankfully, shut. A half-eaten bowl of fruits sat harmlessly upon the tiny desk set in the far corner of the room. His eyes swiftly flicked to the bed.

Celebrimbor made an effort to look up, his head hanging over the edge of the bed, upside down. Above him Celegorm hovered, his hands still clutching at the young elf’s belly and underarm. Curufin watched them in mild confusion.

“Atya, help!” Celebrimbor laughed, choking on his own saliva as he did so. Curufin stared as his son struggled beneath Celegorm’s bulk, trying to pry his hands off. Even so, Curufin could see it was half-hearted.

“What exactly is going on here?” Curufin inquired, his breath a little more steady.

“Ah,” Celegorm said, pulling and twisting his nephew in his arms until he was cradling him. Celebrimbor pushed against his chest, beaming with laughter. “I was teaching my favourite nephew the basics of self-defense-“

“I am your only nephew!” Celebrimbor interjected.

“Aye, smart boy.”

Curufin squinted.

“And what does this… lesson entail?” he crossed his arms over his chest.

“Tickling,” Celegorm grinned, and when his fingers worked playfully over Celebrimbor’s skin, the young elf gave another glass-shattering squeal.

“Tickling,” Curufin echoed, a pounding flash of frustration and disbelief scoring through him. Celegorm did not stop his ministrations, pinning Celebrimbor down onto the mattress, hands above his head. The elfling laughed, and screamed, kicking his short legs viciously into the air. “Tickling?”

Celegorm grinned up at him.

“Yes, hard as it might be for you to believe, children do enjoy other pastimes besides studying and reading and accompanying their pompous fathers down in the forge.”

“Hilarious fellow, aren’t you?” Curufin frowned, voice humourless.

“Stop, stop, stop,” Celebrimbor wheezed, tugging at the bed sheets in an attempt to break free. Sighing, Curufin stooped to retrieve him, plucking him from Celegorm’s arms. Celebrimbor clung to his neck as Curufin swiped the stray, sweaty strands of hair from his face. Then, he took one step forward and struck the back of Celegorm’s head. Hard.

Celebrimbor burst out laughing again, and the look on Celegorm’s face was nothing short of satisfying.

“Ow! What was that for?”

“You interrupt my studies, making me run like some lunatic through the halls, making me think something bad might have happened, because you were tickling him? Eru, he was yelling as though you were flaying him alive.”

“I don’t see the problem,” Celegorm shrugged. Rubbing at the spot where he’d been hit, he rose up to his knees. “You are in dire need for a distraction, Curvo. You’ve been smothering yourself in those books for the past week, it is becoming deeply unsettling, truly.”

“I am working,” Curufin rolled his eyes, gently rocking Celebrimbor in his arms. “Do not blame others for your own indolence.”

“My apologies for not wishing to stay shackled to unnecessary duties. I wish for my spirit to remain free while it can.” Celegorm clasped his fist to his chest in military fashion, drawing a chuckle from his nephew.

“Your ‘free spirit’ is not contributing with anything to this household. Besides pestering the hard-working souls, anyway.”

A derisive snort.

“Well then,” Celegorm began, shuffling closer to the edge of the bed, “I shall concede to playing the royal buffoon. Your little one here gives me renewed purpose.” He winked at Celebrimbor. “Speaking of, our lessons aren’t quite done for today,” he added, outstretching his arms towards his nephew. Curufin whirled, shielding Celebrimbor from Celegorm’s searching limbs. A subtle squirm betrayed Celebrimbor.

“Do you want to go back to him?” he gently asked his son.

“Of course he does,” Celegorm made answer in his nephew’s stead. “Hand him over.”

Without waiting for his brother’s reply, Celegorm extricated the elfling from Curufin’s hands. With a maneuver well-suited for the sparring rings, he wrestled Celebrimbor back down on the bed and resumed his merciless attacks. Celebrimbor screeched, face flushed and brow sweaty, slapping his chubby hands this way and that, and Curufin couldn’t suppress an affectionate smile. In serene amusement he watched the pair laugh and grapple around. He snickered at Celegorm’s remarks – ‘not fair, that move is strictly prohibited!’ – when Celebrimbor fisted a hand through his uncle’s hair in an attempt to escape his hold.

“Oh hey,” Celegorm said suddenly, his hands still. “Do you know who else happens to be sensitive to tickling?” His attention was suddenly turned to Curufin. Celebrimbor gasped for air, following his uncle’s line of sight.

Curufin stiffened.

“No,” he grumbled.

“Yes,” Celegorm grinned. Celebrimbor seemed delighted.

He tried to reach for the door; hastily he scrambled backwards, stumbling over a short stool, his hands blindly searching for the doorknob behind. His brother’s reflexes proved sharper as he effortlessly jumped out of the bed, closing the distance between them, his hands closing around Curufin’s wrists.

Resistance was futile, in the end. Hard he pulled against the restraint, trying to wriggle his way out of the predicament. With stupefying ease Celegorm managed to drag him on the bed, forcing him down atop the bedcovers. To his left, Celebrimbor cheered his uncle on.

“Take your sleazy hands off me!” Curufin snarled up at his brother. “I will make you pay for it!”

Celegorm straddled his waist, his fingers biting as unbudgeable iron manacles into his skin. His muscles trembled with effort as he put all of his physical strength into attempting to break free of the hold, yet he quickly found himself utterly immobilized, hands flexing uselessly in Celegorm’s grip.

“Oh, I’m sure you will. Since I’m well acquainted with your ruthlessness when it comes to punishments, I might just as well make sure my reprimand is well-earned,” Celegorm smirked. Clasping both of Curufin’s wrists in one hand, he pronounced his brother’s sentence: “Tyelpë, pounce on him.”

Whatever protest welled up in Curufin’s throat died out, swallowed by the unstoppable burst of laughter bubbling up in his chest when the pair laid their hands on him as one.

“Stop!” he gasped, he laughed, cringing in on himself. His brother and son aimed for the most ticklish areas, and despite his initial reticence, genuine amusement and contentment rang in his voice.

Something about the proximity, the closeness, made his chest hum with fondness. Despite the physical struggle, the way his body sought to withdraw, the way he begged for them to stop- warmth spilled like hot magma inside his ribcage. Thus, even as Celegorm gave him a brief moment of respite, relinquishing his wrists, Curufin made no attempt to rise. He simply gazed at them, a tender smile on his face.

Perhaps a distraction was needed indeed. He would have very gladly traded precious hours spent in the forge with his father for merely a few moments of such sweetened, blissful silliness.

Though he did not say it out loud during that evening, nor did he depart.

#this is a very self-indulgent drabble #not my usual style but some of you fluff lovers might enjoy it #curufin #celegorm #celebrimbor #silmarillion #my writing

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caliawen · 7 months

Text

Haunted

Pairing = Glorfindel x Reader

Genre = Teen and up

General ratings = a twinge of angst, fluff, smut implied (?)

Content warnings = smut implied

Word count = 1,4k

Notes = ……hi 🫣 I haven’t posted in a month 🙃 Life has been really busy and I haven’t really had the time (nor the motivation, truthfully) to write. I had a more regular schedule before, but I think for now it will stay… ‘irregular’. I have no idea when or what I will post next. Hope you can understand!

Glorfindel was being haunted. Not by ghosts- no. By the memories of his past life. Of his mistakes. Of his friends. Of their deaths. Of his death. The searing pain of his scalp as he was tugged down and down and down by the Balrog. Of the heat he felt as he fought for his life, for the lives of Idril and Tuor and Eärendil and everyone. His mind replayed those moments over and over, never leaving him a second of peace.

The slight smile of Ecthelion, Rog’s boisterous laugh, Turgon’s exasperation with them, Elgalmoth’s mischievous eyes as he gossiped, Penlod’s hums as he pretended he was listening, Galdor’s excited chatter about the trees and plants he saw, Duilin’s whistles as he walked, Tuor’s love-struck expression as his eyes followed Idril and Maeglin’s shy smile when someone asked him about his work…

Oh, Maeglin… Glorfindel had hated him, for a time. Hated him for giving Gondolin away to Morgoth, giving away their lives.. But that time had passed. In the halls of Námo, Glorfindel had had plenty of time to think before he was reborn. And think he did : about how Maeglin had lost his mother and father. About how his only parental figure was Turgon, who was too busy to really spend time with his nephew. About how he mistook his love for Idril as romantic and not platonic, and how that strained his friendship with her and Tuor. About how rumors spread that Maeglin was a vile being. About how none of them did anything to defend him. About how lonely Maeglin must have been.. About what impossible horrors he felt at the hands of Morgoth and Sauron. About how they never saw how broken Maeglin had returned. About how he didn’t care if he died anymore.

Yes, Glorfindel had thought, Maeglin had done something wrong. And he forgave Maeglin for what he had done, because Maeglin had been a child. A child who needed to be guided and shown love, but no one had stepped up to take up the role.

He thought about you. About your smile, your eyes, your nose. About the way you moved, how you talked and your passions. And he ached. Because he didn’t know what happened to you. He didn’t know if you had died, if you had suffered or if you were still alive. If you had moved on from him.. And that haunted him. His every waking thought, his every dream and nightmare.

Sometimes, Glorfindel dreamed of you. He dreamed that you were laying in his bed, in Gondolin, smiling at him. That you carded your fingers through his hair and told him that you loved him. And when he woke up, his heart ached and he did not know whether to thank or curse Irmo.

Glorfindel had a mission. He was going back to Arda Marred. And he found himself dreading going back. Dreading seeing how everything had changed and how the language had evolved. Dreading how no one he knew would be there. How he would be alone. At least in Valinor, he saw his mother and father. He found himself crying when he realized he did not remember what being embraced by his parents felt like. They took care of him and he couldn’t be more grateful to have them.

When Glorfindel departed, he stood looking at Valinor until it had been long since out of view. He stood still, wondering if he was dreaming. He thought, how ironic, for he was going back. Not anyone else. Him. Laurëfindelë Glorfindel, an emissary of the Valar, granted powers nearly as strong as that of the Maiar. And he didn’t want to go back. Nienna wept for him, for his sacrifice, for his fear and for his love. He found himself appreciating her understanding. She visited him, before he departed. He listened to her words, without understanding : “Dear Child, your heart is being haunted. Your mind is playing tricks on you, and your heart is rendered blind by your pain. But your gut, your gut is still there and strong. Follow it, follow what it tells you. But do not silence your heart and mind for it, listen to them. Listen, but do not follow.”

~~~

When Glorfindel arrived in Middle Earth, he did not know where to begin. He was tired, but could not sleep. He thought about you. About your lips on his, about your laugh, about your hands in his, about the ring he had passed on your finger. He thought and thought and thought. And his heart ached. He walked on paths and in forests, stopping to wash himself in rivers. And he despaired.

It was later that he found Lindon. Days later. Or weeks, he did not know. He met Elrond, someone who would confuse and amuse him for the rest of their lives. Part man, part elf, part maia. He wore the insignias of Fingolfin and Fëanor with pride, daring anyone to confront him about it. He was a gentle soul with a heart of gold and the patience of the wise. He was as kind as summer and Glorfindel found himself basking in his presence, like a flower who had grown up in shadow feeling the sun on itself for the first time.

Círdan was surprisingly mischievous. Subtle jokes, sarcasm and deadpan looks were all things he threw at others, uncaring if they understood or not. He was calm, but could easily terrorize anyone with his anger, like the sea. Board games were his favorite and Glorfindel spent time playing with him, thinking of strategies to beat the older elf.

Gil-Galad was as confusing as he was funny. His father was unknown and he liked to joke around about it. Glorfindel spent time with him when they could, talking about everything and nothing. When Gil-Galad felt Glorfindel starting to lose himself in memories, he would randomly tell a stupid joke. They made Glorfindel laugh each time.

Celebrimbor had been a bit weary at first. Glorfindel almost laughed at the memory of a small Curufinwë Tyelpërinquar staring at him with the exact same look. It wasn’t long until they became great friends. Celebrimbor understood : he, too, was haunted by his past actions and words. Maybe for different reasons than Glorfindel, but the important thing was that he related to how Glorfindel felt. Having his feelings validated was something that alleviated the pain in Glorfindel’s heart.

~~~

Glorfindel walked around Lindon aimlessly and leisurely, taking his time to look around. You haunted him. Everything he saw reminded him of you. From pretty rocks you would have collected, passing by a stand selling your favorite fruit, to someone wearing clothes the exact color of your eyes. His mind played tricks on him, making him imagine hearing your laugh or seeing your beautiful hair swaying in the wind.

He stopped walking at a bookstore, a feeling bubbling up inside him. He looked at the door, curious. His gut screamed at him to enter that store, for some reason. His mind dismissed the feeling, but his heart held hope. They warred against each other. And then, Glorfindel was reminded of Nienna’s words to him. And he went inside the store.

Inside the store, which was cozy and homey, he felt pulled towards a particular bookshelf. His breath hitched as his mind reeled to a stop, his heart pumping wildly. There you stood, browsing the shelf while smiling. Feeling observed, you turned your head, your eyes widening as you saw Glorfindel, your husband, your soulmate, standing there. Glorfindel was frozen, his mind scrambling and heart singing with joy. You were the one to make the first move, throwing yourself in his arms, ecstatic. Glorfindel hugged you back, a sense of wholeness overtaking his mind and body as he kissed you long and passionately.

The two of you spent hours upon hours talking, laughing, crying and hugging. This long-awaited reunion was a balm on Glorfindel’s bruised and battered heart. That night, under the stars, in a magnificent glade full of flowers, you rekindled your fëas. Glorfindel made love to you slowly and passionately, kissing every piece of skin revealed as he undressed you, worshiping your body with his hands and mouth. That night, in your arms, Glorfindel had no nightmares. He woke up to your sweet voice and felt free. Free of the thing that haunted him. And he smiled.

End notes : Hope you enjoyed! Reblogs, comments & likes are extremely appreciated 🫶

@theladyvanya

#the silmarillion #glorfindel #laurëfindelë #laurefindele #glorfindel x reader #laurëfindelë x reader #laurefindele x reader #fluff #love #angst #mourning/grieving (?)#elrond #celebrimbor #tyelperinquar #tyelpërinquar #círdan #cirdan #nienna #Haunted

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lady-raidia · 5 months

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Hi my fellow german ♡

If you're up to, I'd love to request a Gil-Galad x reader writing (: I'm so sad that there is still not much out there. Something fluffy like love at first sight or first kiss (or both haha)

Thank you so much in advance!♡

Hey there! 💗 I am so sorry that you had to wait such a long time for me to respond! :( I was suffering from a writers block and I couldn't write anything for months :'( But I am back and I am trying to catch up! I hope that you enjoy this One-Shot (or maybe two shot hehe) even though it ended up a little bit shorter than I wanted to. But I will try to write a part 2 for this one, so we can have more Gil-Galad content hehe. Again, I am so sorry that you had to wait for such a long time! And I am sorry if my english sounds weird in the story :o But please enjoy! 💗💗

FOREST HEART - GIL-GALAD IMAGINE

Pairing: Gil-Galad x Reader

Summary: You are an old friend of Galadriel and visit her in Lindon, where you wander off into the forest. You just wanted to enjoy the nature but you found a hidden treasure that will change your life.

Warnings: None, just some Gil, snobby language and bad english.

Request Here / Masterlist

Nestled amidst ancient trees and shimmering waters, you have lived a life full of peace and harmony. You had chosen this life, far from Lindon, to escape the gossip and side-eyes you would get when passing by other elves who knew you were not like them. Your father was an elf, but your mother was of the race of men. She was the most beautiful woman you have ever seen but the fragility of a mortal life took her away from you. After her passing, your father followed her into death, since his heart couldn't bear the grief and loss it had suffered.

You grew up in a small cottage close to Lindon, the place your mother and her mother were born and raised. It was your sanctuary, your haven, and as a child, you thought Valinor must have looked exactly like your home. Even after your parents passed away you stayed at that small cottage to care for the garden your mother cherished so much.

Even though you lived your life far from others, you still had close friends you have known since childhood. One of them was Galadriel and you would refer to her as your best friend. You held her dear in your heart and even though you hadn't seen each other for centuries, you regularly wrote letters to each other. You would usually write about how your garden is growing and that the birds are nesting again, while Galadriel would entertain you with the adventures she had been on. (If you can call it an adventure. She is trying to hunt down orcs to find Sauron and with each letter you get from her it becomes apparent that she is slowly losing her mind. You are worried for your friend because she seems too fixated on Sauron being still alive.)

A couple of days ago you received an invitation to Lindon to celebrate Galadriel and her troop for „freeing the world of all evil“. You were happy to hear that her efforts to hunt down every orc are finally being acknowledged! And you wouldn’t be her friend if you wouldn’t tend that celebrations! So with a mix of excitement, worries and nostalgia you went on the journey towards Lindon.

When you arrived, Galadriel greeted you with open arms and a radiant smile on her face! It must have been decades the last time you have seen each other. But before you could talk about old memories and laugh about the shenanigans you did when you were children, she introduced you to Elrond, the herald of the High King. He offered to guide you around since Galadriel had business to do and while he was giving you a small history lesson that wasn’t really anticipating, he also warned you to not get too deep into the forest. For someone who doesn’t know the woods very well it is easy to get lost in them. And the last thing Elrond wants is to lose you and having Galadriel yelling at him for not paying attention. You had to promise to not go on your own and to always stay in the city. And you really wanted to keep that promise. You really did.

The days before the celebration you tried to spend as much time with Galadriel as possible. But she still had some duties she had to attend to, so she would usually leave you alone in the evening. It is your third evening here in Lindon and you already wish to be back at your small cottage. Elves aren’t a noisy folk but still it seemed like their voices were yelling at you. All the people, the talking, the faint music in the distance - you weren’t used to it, so for that moment it was just too much for you. You needed a moment of silence and since you arrived in Lindon it seemed like the trees were talking to you. You remembered the promise you’ve made and said to yourself that you would only walk for a bit - not too far off, so you can easily find a way back. Also, you have the senses of an elf, so nothing could go wrong.

With a sense of childlike wonder, you ventured off the path that was before you and headed straight into the woods. The forest with its towering trees, vibrant flowers and singing birds, mesmerized you and you have totally forgotten the words of Elrond. With each step you take, you get further away from the city but closer to the calmness of your soul.

Lost in the magic of the moment, you failed to notice the sun slowly going down and being replaced by a soft darkness.

„Beautiful isn’t it?“ Suddenly, a voice broke through the silence of the trees, dragging you back to reality. Startled, you turned to find a men standing in front of you with a gentle smile on his face. His presence was both mysterious and comforting. You have seen his face before, many years ago, but you can’t remember who he was. Maybe a friend of your father?

„Indeed. While the soil here might look like any other forest, it is made of hope and wishes from those who have walked here before us." You spoke softly while maintaining your gaze on the man in front of you.

He came a few steps closer to you with a light smile on his face. „It has been a long time since someone recognized Lindon's beauty. Too many became used to its sight and stopped wondering what miracles it might hold.“ You listened carefully to his words and nodded „But it seems you are not from Lindon. Lost, perhaps?“

„Galadriel is a friend of mine, and I am not lost. My feet tend to carry me places where my heart wants to go but my thoughts are too afraid of.“ The man before opened his mouth to share his thoughts with you but was interrupted by the voice of Galadriel who came running towards you.

„Y/N you shouldn’t be here!“ She looked at you and then made eye contact with the dark-haired elf in front of you. „I apologize! Y/N is a visitor and a friend of mine, my king.“ You nearly tripped over a root when you heard your friend address that man as „my king“. The reason his face was so familiar is because he is the High King of the Noldor, Gil-Galad.

Galadriel drags you away from him before you have a chance to speak, scolding you for being so careless. You apologized to her several times and felt that by not addressing him by his title, you had offended the king. In fact, he felt no offense at all. The thought of your conversation still lingered in his mind as he watched you and Galadriel walk away. Whenever his shoulders are unable to bear the weight of the crown, he retreats into the forest to enjoy the silence. Usually, the elves of Lindon don’t go that far into the woods so he can be on his own. But today, you were carried deeper into the woods by your own feet without a care in the world. For a while, Gil-Galad watched you admire the flowers and trees while the last light of the setting sun was reflected in your eyes. He was in awe and for the first time in his long life, he didn’t have the courage to speak. But when darkness slowly reached out, he talked to you and he was immediately enchanted by your voice and words. He always thought that he had lost his heart in the woods but it seemed that you found it. Now it is up to you if you want to claim it for yourself.

To be continued 💗

@fenharel-enaste @starlady66 (I am back, I hope it is okay I tagged you guys again! :) )

#rings of power #lord of the rings #gil galad x reader #gil galad #silmarillion #gil-galad x reader #gil-galad imagine #rop masterlist #rings of power masterlist #rop imagine #rings of power imagine #tolkien imagine #gil galad fluff #lotr

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doodle-pops · 18 days

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Domestic Life With Glorfindel Would Include...

𑁍 So first of all, domestic life with him would mainly happen when you two are back in Valinor when the both of you don’t have any strenuous work as heads of the House. This means that you two get to lay back and relax a lot more than usual.

𑁍 He’s going to be all over you more than ever (so if he wasn’t in the beginning) and fewer duties means more time in private. He’s not going to let you go so easily so you’d be locked up with him more often.

𑁍 With domestic bliss in your life, things go a lot slower than back in Middle Earth but you’re both able to savour every moment better now.

𑁍 I did mention that he is a good cook, he wasn’t the best when you first started dating him because as a Lord, he was always busy with meeting and war and protecting people, so he never had or made the time to learn how to but when you came into his life, he made the effort because he always saw how you’d cook for him and so he wanted to reciprocate.

𑁍 So, now that you’re in your domestic bliss with less work on your plate, he’s going to be doing the cooking more often than you, sometimes if he sees you cooking either he makes you leave the kitchen so he can finish up or he joins you. He has it in his head that he’s a pro chef now.

𑁍 He’s going to help with household chores but he’s not going to be the best help because you probably never get anything done correctly or on time. He’ll constantly distract you from everything. He’s one of those people who starts cleaning and then finds a whole bunch of items and forgets cleaning to play with them. You’ll walk into the room and meet him covered in old items and playing with some toys from his childhood.

𑁍 Since he’s back in Valinor, this means that most if not all of his friends from the first age are reborn, so if you weren’t from the first age, he’s taking you to meet them. Lunch dates or dinner dates will include his friends and you so all of you can get to know each other and also do lots of catching up.

𑁍 If you two didn’t have children in Middle Earth because of all the chaos unfolding, then he’s going to bring having children up since it’s a good time and there’s no impending doom raining down on your heads.

𑁍 This means that he has more free time on his hands to romance you all the time without having to worry about someone interrupting, so I hope you have tons of energy to keep up with him.

𑁍 When you do have a child (the rest would come after), your domestic life begins to feel halfway complete as though this was what you two were missing.

𑁍 He is ecstatic when a baby becomes a part of your domestic fairy-tale life. For him, everything is now perfect. His days are filled with more fun as the baby grows. He’ll be playing all sorts of games and taking them on tours around Valinor.

𑁍 Speaking of tours, if you weren’t born in Valinor this would be the most opportune time for him to show you around, you’ll be touring Valinor as a family showing off your little bundle of joy along the way while he’s pointing out to and them all the places, he told you about.

𑁍 “Yes, do you see that curved statue over there, the one wi- Oh, hello, yes this is our newest member of the family. Cute, aren’t they? – right anyway, like I was saying…”

𑁍 Your domestic life with him will be filled with joyous moments and this would be one of the times you’d truly see him at his happiest, knowing that he doesn’t have to leave you or vice versa, it calms his heart and puts an ease to his worries. He doesn’t need to be scared about something happening since you’re living in paradise with him.

Masterlist

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lamemaster · 7 months

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Ways to Coax Your Beloved

Pairing: Glorfindel x Reader

Genre: Romance, fluff (i swear) , sprinkle of angst

Summary: What began as a minor disagreement now feels like an insurmountable chasm between you two. Never before had an argument lasted so long.

AN: written directly on Tumblr interface this is my mania. Enjoy!

"I've brought us some snacks," you carefully balance the tray on the balcony railing. "Cakes, tea, cookies, crackers, cream rolls – I've got everything." He remains facing away from you, his back tense and unyielding to your words.

"Glorfindel," you take a hesitant step closer, your hand hovering in the air. But before you can say more, he disappears once again. This has been the pattern for a week, the longest and most trying week of your life.

What began as a minor disagreement now feels like an insurmountable chasm between you two. Never before had an argument lasted so long. Your beloved simply did not care to hold on to grudges for long.

Sighing, you lifted the tray, contemplating an excuse that wouldn't draw the pitying gazes of the kitchen staff.

"How do you coax a sulking elf?" Erestor looks up from his book. You had never really conversed much with him before this. There was never a reason to. "Specifically a thousands of years old being whose been born twice and is quite a legend."

Much to your surprise, Erestor does not find your humor hilarious. Leave for slight amusement in his eyes there is little appreciation for your jest.

"I would rather you not discuss this with me," the stern looking elf replies as he simply turns back to his tomes. Yikes! Awkwardly swinging your arms you try to plan for a slightly less awkward exit. "Ah yes," picking up the closest book you plan for your emergency exit from the unforgiving company, "I would like to get this book."

With another scathing look directed your way, Erestor meticulously wrapped your borrowed book in a fancy-looking cloth. "Keep it away from any water, heat, or dirt. Any damage is unacceptable," he instructed curtly.

You solemnly nodded, understanding the gravity of his instructions. "Sounds good," you responded with a casual tone, but Erestor's raised eyebrow reminded you that casualness wasn't his forte.

As you turned to leave, you almost collided with the bookshelf, which seemed to have crept up on you. "Oof," you muttered, swaying your way out of the room.

Then, Erestor's voice halted your steps. "Try Asfaloth," he suggested.

With a wide grin, you turned around and threw a jolly salute to Erestor, who had already returned to his books as if nothing had changed.

Armed with Erestor's invaluable intel, you ventured to the stables. Before arriving there, you made sure to thoroughly search your quarters, Glorfindel's rooms, and other frequently visited areas of the dwelling. Finally, you descended to the stables, where your beloved's horse awaited.

"Asfaloth, my boy, how I've missed you!" Your heartfelt enthusiasm was met with an equally excited neigh from the elegant white stallion. Despite towering over you, Asfaloth possessed a temperament that invited nurturing from anyone.

Performing a playful dance with light stomps to celebrate your arrival was entirely unnecessary but undeniably enjoyable. Or perhaps it was the not-so-well-concealed carrots you held in your hands that fueled your jubilant display. "Have you seen him?" you posed a question to the horse, though you knew full well that, despite elven claims, horses did not possess the gift of speech.

Approaching the gentle giant that was Asfaloth, you deftly ensured that he didn't gobble the carrots too quickly. "Patience," you murmured, adjusting the treats to prevent any mishaps. Abandoning the idea of petting the eager horse, you directed all your focus toward preventing a choking incident. You were acutely aware that Glorfindel would never forgive you if Asfaloth were to asphyxiate on your offerings.

"Where is he, Asfaloth?" Your fingers continued to caress the munching horse as you briefly entertained the idea that, just maybe, the elves were right, and Asfaloth understood you.

No fancy braiding or delicate floral decorations adorned his mane this time. "Why is he avoiding you? What have you done?" you pondered aloud, earning a pitiful whine from your equine companion. "I know, incredibly rude, I must say," you commented, deciding against attempting to braid Asfaloth's mane for the sake of both the world's sanity and your own. Instead, you settled on a comfortable pile of hay, hoping you weren't sitting on Asfaloth's dinner from the previous night.

"I brought him flowers, snacks, I even endured the drudgery of laundry, and I despise laundry. I got him books, a random flute, baked him a cake, and even learned a new card trick. But not a single reaction!" You confided in Asfaloth, desperately hoping for some form of understanding and equally enthusiastic compassion. To your relief, Asfaloth seemed to offer a sympathetic snort at just the right moment.

"You wouldn't believe it, but I even dared to venture into Erestor's little cave for intel. I'm at my wit's end, my friend," you sighed, realizing that the hay pile was indeed quite comfortable.

"I mean, I could try going to the nearest town for something, but I doubt I'd find anything better than these snobbish elves. Besides, those townsfolk charge outrageous prices," you continued, and Asfaloth leaned in, sniffing your satchel in hopes of more treats. Allowing the horse to continue his investigation, you didn't stop him. "I might dip into some of those savings. Perhaps Glorfindel would appreciate some rustic tools, eh?" Tired of Asfaloth's curiosity, you playfully tossed your empty satchel into the corner, which, for some inexplicable reason, Asfaloth chased like an adorable hound.

Tucked away in Asfaloth's cozy abode, you couldn't recall when your consciousness had faded into that blissful six-hour nap – the kind you cherished above all others. In the realm of bizarre dreams, you found yourself pinned to a pile of hay, unable to relinquish the unconventional comfort. Maybe Erestor had been onto something when he recommended Asfaloth.

However, your tranquil slumber was abruptly shattered as a metaphorical tsunami wreaked havoc on your sleeping form. Gasping, you struggled to make sense of the blurry world that seemed to whirl too rapidly for your groggy vision to follow.

"Y/n, oh Eru, you're awake!" A voice echoed through your sleep-addled and hazy thoughts.

Grasping the strong arms that held you close, you attempted to piece together the disaster that had overtaken you. "Wha-" your words faltered as you laid eyes on the tearful and sniffling elf standing before you. It was your first time witnessing such an emotional display, and you couldn't quite believe that elves were capable of producing snot.

Shaking off your mental fog, you slowly realized the peculiar predicament you were in. You were seated on a pile of hay, within the stable, beneath Asfaloth's unflinching gaze, and enfolded tightly in the embrace of the Balrog-slayer himself.

"I-I thought you left. You left like you said," Glorfindel stammered, your hands gently cupped your hiccupping beloved's face as his words tumbled out faster than you could process. "I couldn't find you… I had to… I rushed here, and then, you were… your eyes closed like that." Using your sleeves, you wiped away the relentless tears (and yes, even the snot) that streamed down his face as you sought a way to soothe Glorfindel's overwhelming emotions.

You couldn't help but internally curse yourself for your rambling that had led to this emotional upheaval. Days ago, beneath the relentless blanket of snow and impenetrable clouds, your thoughts had wandered without restraint.

"It happens, Glorfindel," you offered in an attempt to console him, "weariness of the world is unavoidable, even more so for Men. A slight change in weather can trigger it. After all, we are bound to some place beyond this." Your words seemed to offer little solace, evident from your beloved's reddening face.

"It is only natural to ponder death or the end. We Men are born with this burden, so it's not unnatural for such thoughts to sneak in. We call it 'existentialism.' But those ramblings mean nothing right now. I would not leave you, vanish into thin air, or transform into an insect just because the snow wouldn't relent." Your words carried a hint of playfulness, but there was undeniable truth in them. You would depart one day, for a fate separate from his. Before that day came, you both would endure the passage of time, a force that dared not mar the Balrog-slayer.

You harbored thoughts about evading him before he witnessed such a sight, but you knew you had some time left. A few years before you would spend eons waiting for another reunion.

But you chose not to speak of those deeper truths.

"But," you interjected, and Glorfindel perked up at the unexpected word. "I would tell everyone about this if you don't stop being an absolute grump." Just like that, the tension surrounding you both dissipated. "Imagine, 'Balrog Slayer, The Balrog Slayer,' in the stables – hmph!" Your words were cut off as Glorfindel playfully covered your face with his hand.

Even with reddened eyes and a rosy nose, your beloved looked every bit his old self. All traces of your angst and his sorrow dissipated into the slightly stinky breath of Asfaloth.

#the silmarillion #tolkien elves #silmarillion x reader #romance #fluff #glorfindel x reader #glorfindel imagine #glorfindel #human reader #asfaloth #Asfaloth is a cutie

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