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doodle-pops · 6 months

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Love Languages | Imladris

A/N: You can find the others over here: Feanorians | Gondolin

◞ ꙳ ๋࣭ ⭑ ` Elrond

• 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐀𝐟𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧: Elrond stands out as one of the most supportive individuals in all of Middle Earth, possessing a remarkable ability to lavish you with praise and compliments, capable of brightening even your darkest moments. Whether you're grappling with insecurity, depression, or simply overwhelmed by stress and sadness, Elrond possesses an uncanny knack for choosing the perfect words to convey his emotions and bring comfort and joy into your life. Despite the tumultuous events he has endured, he remains a true inspiration, driven by a fervent desire to prevent you from suffering as he once did. With unwavering determination, he will go to great lengths to bring smiles and laughter to your world.

• 𝐐𝐮𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐲 𝐓𝐢𝐦𝐞: As a busy elf responsible for the administration of Imladris, a role akin to that of a grandparent to all, Elrond is keenly aware of the precious moments that can be lost in the demands of his responsibilities. Consequently, he strives to carve out time amidst his packed schedule to be with you. Whether it's a shared breakfast, a leisurely lunch, a quiet walk, or simply snuggling together, he exerts his utmost effort to ensure your time together is well-spent. On occasion, he may even dedicate an entire day solely for the purpose of being in your company.

• 𝐆𝐢𝐟𝐭–𝐆𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠: As the esteemed Lord of Imladris, Elrond has an abundance of resources at his disposal, and he is more than willing to indulge your desires. Initially, he may not have comprehended the significance of showering a beloved with extravagant or numerous gifts. However, with your presence in his life, he has developed an irresistible urge to provide you with everything and anything you desire, as long as it brings you happiness. Witnessing the satisfaction and delight that lights up your face when he presents you with a new item is a source of immense joy for him, and he is committed to maintaining this gesture of love and affection.

◞ ꙳ ๋࣭ ⭑ ` Erestor

• 𝐏𝐡𝐲𝐬𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐥 𝐀𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧: Erestor, though often reserved and seemingly distant, harbours a deep affection for physical touch, especially when initiated by you. He may appear a tad gruff or out of touch with physical intimacy, but once you draw him into a hug or share a kiss, his heart warms to the gesture. In this regard, he typically defers to you to take the lead in initiating any form of physical closeness. However, there are moments when his mood swings unexpectedly, prompting him to seek your presence and casually drape himself over you when you're in private. He harbours a strong aversion to the thought of someone intruding on your intimate moments, which is why he prefers them to be private.

• 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐀𝐟𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧: Erestor's scholarly and advisory background has endowed him with an impressive command of language. His vocabulary is rich, and he strives to employ the most eloquent words when describing your beauty or personality. As a meticulous and directive individual, uplifting your spirits is a profound duty for him. He recognizes that his words can be straightforward, and when he senses you're in a foul mood, he tends to be especially cautious with his choice of words, often opting for physical touch instead. However, on occasions when he indulges in a bit too much wine, he can become quite eloquent and flowery in his expressions, much to your delight.

• 𝐐𝐮𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐲 𝐓𝐢𝐦𝐞: Erestor finds great joy in spending quality time with you, particularly in serene moments where you both relax together. He cherishes the times you lie side by side on the balcony or lounge on comfortable sofas, engrossed in reading. More often than not, he takes the initiative to read to you, his soothing voice creating a tranquil atmosphere that enhances the experience. These moments, where you are entwined in each other's arms with his soothing narration in the background, are the ones he treasures most in your relationship.

◞ ꙳ ๋࣭ ⭑ ` Elrohir

• 𝐆𝐢𝐟𝐭–𝐆𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠: Elrohir shares many traits with his parents, particularly his father, and he's exceptionally attentive to your preferences. During your cherished moments together, he listens carefully to everything you mention, creating a mental catalogue of your desires. A week later, you'll often find thoughtful gifts waiting on your doorstep, and he'll greet you with a small, contented smile and a slight dip of his head when he sees your happiness. His gifts are meaningful and simple, never extravagant or ostentatious, reflecting the depth of his feelings for you.

• 𝐏𝐡𝐲𝐬𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐥 𝐀𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧: Every moment spent with Elrohir is a treasure, and while he may not be as touchy-feely as his brother or mother, he finds great comfort in physical closeness. Simple gestures like holding your hand, brushing his knuckles against your cheek, or tenderly kissing the back of your hand are his way of showing affection. He's a romantic at heart, and his actions reflect this aspect of his personality. He's not one for overt public displays of affection (PDA) and prefers to save heavy kisses and cuddling for private moments behind closed doors. You might be pleasantly surprised by the passionate intensity of his touch when you're alone – longer, more heated kisses, sneakily affectionate pinches and touches, and a tendency to cling to you.

• 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐀𝐟𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧: Similar to his father in this regard, Elrohir has a natural way with words. A gentle smile and a few whispered words of love and praise have the power to melt your heart. His words are like a warm, spring sunshine that brightens your aura, making you feel lighter and elated by his expressions of love and compliments. He has a poetic and flowery way with words, and his charisma shines through when he speaks. The sight of his one-sided dimpled smile after he's poured his heart out to you is a sight to behold.

◞ ꙳ ๋࣭ ⭑ ` Elladan

• 𝐏𝐡𝐲𝐬𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐥 𝐀𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧: Elladan is exuberant and unabashed in expressing his love physically. He revels in showering you with affection, from sweet hand-holding to passionate kisses that occasionally earn him a scolding from his father. In private, he becomes an endearing, needy puppy who can't seem to get enough of your touch. He longs to be wrapped up in your embrace, cuddling with you for hours on end. You both enjoy evenings on the balcony, overlooking the valley, intertwined together, savouring those precious moments.

• 𝐐𝐮𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐲 𝐓𝐢𝐦𝐞: Elladan possesses a spontaneous spirit and a yearning for adventure that sets him apart from his brother. He often embarks on orc-hunting expeditions, but when he returns home, he is eager to spend every possible moment with you. Whether you're an outdoor enthusiast or prefer indoor activities, he adapts to your preferences without hesitation. His primary goal is to be near you and witness your smile, leading him to plan a variety of activities to ensure you both have a great time. Even if it involves cosying up by the fireplace and reading to each other, Elladan is more than willing to oblige.

• 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐀𝐟𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧: Traveling Middle Earth with his brother, Elladan learns and enthusiastically experiments with various phrases used to express love. These phrases often blend elven and mortal languages, and they can range from charming to surprising to downright flabbergasting. While he may not always grasp the full depth of their hidden meanings, his intentions are rooted in love. His compliments are a delightful blend of sweetness, cheesiness, and warmth, guaranteed to bring a smile to your face.

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the-elusive-soleil · 6 months

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love from before still strong

For @tolkienfamilyweek Day 1 - Parent-child relationship

Maglor is shaking as he makes his way through the shadows. His hand is still in searing pain, even though the Silmaril is now at the bottom of the sea. He can see the horrified, startled face of the guard he killed, and the horrible blank emptiness on Maedhros’ face just before he pitched forward and--

He shudders, tries to put it out of his mind.

He needs to get to Elrond. There is no room for a plan or for thoughts of consequences, only for that singular goal.

There’s nothing else left, is the thing. Morgoth is defeated (no thanks to him), all his brothers are dead, the Silmarils are gone and it is probably for the best, and Elros is already gone with the Men from the Host, departed for their new Isle of Gift while Maglor was huddled in the woods trying to come to terms with still being alive.

There is, distantly, the lurking possibility in the back of his mind that that could change. He is trying very hard to not entertain that possibility. There is no good reason for him to be alive when all his brothers are dead, but the situation only becomes more senseless if he throws away the life that only he has been allowed to keep.

So here he is, slipping through the camp of the Host of the West that he fled from, sword dripping blood, only days ago.

Fortunately, he does have some idea where to go in search of Elrond, from when he was here before--not from anything he saw, but rather from where in the camp Gil-Galad was most eager to prevent him and Maedhros from passing. More than that, he knows his son, and it is no stretch of the imagination to suspect that he ought to check the healers’ tents first.

Sure enough, as he approaches the tent at the end of the row, he hears a familiar voice saying, “Is there anything else you need from me tonight, Annehtë?”

It’s Elrond, which is good, but he’s not alone, which could cause problems. Maglor draws close to the side of the tent, the better to listen for an opportunity, and to stay out of sight of anyone passing.

“No, you’ve done all you ought to and more,” says an elf-woman who is presumably Annehtë. Peering through a gap between tent panels, Maglor spots her, a blonde Vanyarin who is probably not that much younger than himself, but whose face bears less stress than any elf of Beleriand’s anymore and makes her look unwontedly young.

Elrond, in plain and serviceable healer’s robes, looking weary but otherwise no worse for wear, is moving towards the tent entrance. “Then I will bid you farewell till morning, for this day has me unusually weary.”

Before he can leave, though, Annehtë calls out, “If you will stay a moment, there is a matter I would speak with you on.”

Maglor stifles a curse, and Elrond looks no less irritated as he turns around--he’s hiding it well enough for dealing with a relative stranger, but Maglor recognizes that set of his shoulders from every time he was made to eat greens he did not want. “What is it?”

“Why don’t we sit down?” Annehtë says, not really making it a suggestion. Elrond complies, mouth pressed into a thin line. “I’ve been meaning to check in on you ever since...well, since the incident a few days ago.”

So that’s what this is about.

Elrond’s face remains a polite mask. “I don’t see how there’s anything to discuss. Unless you suspect me of aiding and abetting them, which King Gil-Galad and King Finarfin have already determined was not the case.”

“Oh, no, of course not.” Annehtë sounds shocked at the very thought. “It’s only that, well, they put you through so much before. You were only just starting to recover, and then to have them come so close again, so violently--you must have been afraid they would come after you and your brother, to take you again.”

“Why would they do that,” Elrond asks quietly and evenly, “when they were the ones who sent us here?”

“I can only guess at how such twisted minds may work,” Annehtë ventures, “but people like that don’t ever really let their victims go, you know. It’s part of the game they play, catch and release.”

“And what exactly would you know about it?” Elrond’s voice is terribly calm and cool. “Having lived all your life in Aman, where supposedly everything is perfect.”

“I have had opportunity to learn from my Sindarin colleagues since arriving here,” Annehtë retorts primly. She reaches out and takes Elrond’s hands in hers. “I understand that you must have felt such a need to be defensive of the Fëanorians when you first came here. You’d never known anything else, so of course you would want to cling to it. But they’re gone now, and it’s safe to let yourself admit that they were cruel to you. They destroyed your home and took you captive, and allowed you to know nothing but their own ways and their rules. They hurt you, and now you don’t have to pretend otherwise anymore just to get by.”

Maglor’s heart pounds in his chest. Not because he believes what the Vanyarin woman is saying in her falsely sweet voice--he knows he and Maedhros parented the twins to the best of their ability, knows that they gave them every scrap of love they had to offer, and is fairly confident that Elrond and Elros held some affection for them in return. But this is exactly what he had feared would happen when they sent their sons away: that the Sindar and Amanyar would teach them to hate the people who had raised them, and would in time so convince the twins that they had been abused that he and Maedhros would never be able to reunite with them again.

He supposes it is only surprising that it took this long for anyone to try.

That does not make it tear at thim any less when Elrond bows his head and admits, “I cannot deny that there is some truth in what you say.”

Maglor cannot stand to listen any further. He came too late and lost his chance, and now his son is slipping away from him. Intervention is impossible, so he does the only thing left to him and flees.

***

Elrond had already had more than enough of Annehtë before she tried to lure him into some kind of soul-baring exercise. The fact that she was delaying him when he could swear he felt the presence of one of his fathers just outside only compounded the irritation. He tried polite evasion, and when that seemed to be waxing ineffective, attempted to feign at least partial agreement in the hopes that she would let him alone.

Instead, his trouble only increased: no sooner had he forced out the words than he felt Maglor’s presence abruptly recede, as if in flight. No, no, this couldn’t happen, he couldn’t have the chance to finally keep hold of someone just slip through his fingers like that.

He itches to leap up and chase after Maglor right then and there, but Annehtë is still there, looking at him expectantly after his most recent statement. Right. He has to deal with this nonsense.

“It is true,” he continues, “that Maedhros and Maglor invaded and destroyed our home when we were children. But that is the only true thing you have said. They were kind to us from the beginning, although it would have been expedient to kill or abandon us. They loved us as their own sons; they only sent us away because they were sending everyone away that they could.”

Annehtë is spluttering. “But--but they were, are kinslayers! They cannot have had kindness in them, or how could they have done all that they did?”

“I do not know,” Elrond says, a little proud of how steady his voice is despite his rage. “I have wrestled with that myself. But there is no doubt in my mind that they loved us, that they gave us all the goodness they could scrape together in themselves, which was no small amount. So you will not say such things to me again--not only because they are false, but because my relationship with my fathers is none of your business.”

Then, finally, he has the opportunity to storm out in the wake of her stunned silence, and the moment he is out of the tent, he breaks into a sprint in the direction he felt Maglor’s presence receding towards.

Fortunately, his foster father does not have much of a head start, and it only takes a few minutes for Elrond to detect that flare of fëa and follow it into the woods. He quickly spots a figure curled in the shadows at the base of a large tree. A couple of paces closer, and he realizes that Maglor is weeping silently.

That does it. He flies across the short remaining distance, dropping to his knees and reaching out. “Atya? Atya! It’s all right, I’m here, I’m sorry...”

Maglor looks up at him, wide-eyed. “Elrond. Is it really you? I thought--”

“If you had stayed only a moment longer, you would have heard me go on to verbally eviscerate her,” Elrond declares. “I felt you outside the tent, I was trying anything I could to get away quickly, but it only led to me having to chase you down. What has happened to you? Where is Atar? Why did you not come to me, or to Elros or both of us, before?”

Maglor shivers. “Maedhros is dead,” he says hoarsely.

Elrond freezes. “What? He cannot be--they told us they had let you both go unharmed, they swore to me--”

“He cast himself into a chasm of fire,” Maglor continues, glorious voice flat and dull. “We took the Silmarils, and they burned us as they burn creatures of evil, and--he could not bear it. They physical wound, yes, but not--and so he ended.”

He looks up at Elrond, meeting his eyes for the first time. “He was gone, and Elros had already left for wherever his Isle of Gift will be, and there was no one else, so I thought to go to you. And then I heard--”

“--possibly the least important part of all that I had to say,” Elrond assures. He cradles Maglor’s hands in his, noting with an inward hiss of dismay the ugly burn upon the right palm. “I did not want to leave you and Atar before; I am certainly not going to let you slip away now.”

“You should,” Maglor says, making a brief abortive movement as if he would pull away but cannot bear to. “I have slain kin again, I am a thief and a murderer and kidnapper, my heels are dogged by a curse--”

“I care for none of that,” Elrond says quietly. “That is, I am not glad that you have killed again, but I don’t think you will do so any more, and I do not think there is any punishment anyone could inflict on you that would be worse than the rejection of the Silmarils and the loss of Atar.”

Maglor is silent, only bowing his head.

“I will not be staying with the Host for much longer,” Elrond forges on determinedly. “Finarfin has been trying to talk me into returning with the Amnyar, but I do not plan to. As soon as I can make that clear without burning any bridges, I will be leaving here--I want to travel, and study the different peoples of Middle-earth, and collect their knowledge. So much has been lost during the wars, but nowperhaps I can seek to preserve.”

A brief hesitation, and then, “If you will only wait here where I can find you until then, you are welcome to join me--no, more than welcome, I would earnestly desire it. We can travel together. First to Elros, I think--he will be glad to see you are alive, and will want to mourn Atar with us.”

There is a terribly long silence before Maglor lifts his head again. “I should not agree. I do not deserve it,” he says. “But I fear I am too weak now to fight against what I want so badly.”

Elrond lets out the breath he didn’t realize he was holding. “Good,” he says, a little unsteadily. He can work with that. Slowly, he drops the rest of the way to the ground and pulls Maglor into a tight, fierce embrace. “That’s good. That’ll be all right.”

#tolkienfamilyweek #silmarillion #maglor #elrond #kidnap fam #post war of wrath #maybe this belonged under the found family day?#but kidnap fam was my silm gateway drug and it's what I think of first when I see “tolkien” and “parents”#archaeologist-anthropologist elrond makes another appearance #so does my favorite genre of “outsider sees kidnap fam and assumes the worst”#soleil writes things #refracted (fanfiction)

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wordbunch · 1 year

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Elrond as a dad

a/n: so there was an absolute genius of an anon who suggested these headcanons and I knew that I had to write them ASAP because he!!!! would be such a great sweet dad. 😍😍😍 i hope you all enjoy these HCs, let me know how you liked them and please reblog so that more people can see 💛 thank you!

okay he is extremely nervous and stressed out and protective, and he is in love with your baby so so so so much

literally he could cry when their hold his finger or babble incoherently

he could just look at them forever and study their lil facial expressions and movements and everything

he tenses up when someone else (besides you) holds them and he can’t wait to have them back in his or your arms

from the moment your baby is born he is wrapped around their little finger

you actually sometimes have to keep him in check so that he doesn’t spoil them too much

many times in the evening you caught the two of them having a sweet moment as Elrond carries the baby around the room and rocks them as he tells a goodnight story in the softest voice

more often than not, those “stories” are just about how much he loves the baby and/or you, and how you’re the world’s greatest parent

you actually like to eavesdrop on those stories occasionally, and Elrond is aware of it and he will just smile to himself and continue talking

if the baby whimpers one time, let alone cries, he will drop everything and pick them up instantly

he loves having things custom made for them, with like their initials and stuff

and don’t even let me started on birthdays and similar special occasions /

Elrond could buy a half of middle-earth for your baby if you don’t stop him

he isn’t the best singer out there but he will sing in a low, comforting your voice to soothe your baby and it works like magic

his fascination triples when they start talking!!! especially if their first word is ‘dad’ or any variation of it

he is totally the parent to have full-on conversations with a child that’s just rambling nonsense

he loves reading to them and he will definitely do voices for different characters

your kid likes just following him around while holding the hem of his cloak as he does things

Elrond will definitely team up with your child to make you surprises on your special days, or just a random breakfast in bed accompanied with the kid’s drawing of unintelligible shapes which represent the three of you as a family

he is very accepting and he is just excited about everything that your child is and wants to be

also among your child’s friends, Uncle Elrond is the absolute favorite

he would be the greatest dad in all of middle-earth and that’s a fact!!!

💕 taglist my beloved @lotrnonsense @starlady66 @queenmeriadoc @thesolarangel @averys-place @valkyriepirate @noldorinpainter @asianbutnotjapanese @fenharel-enaste @starryeyedrogue @lady-of-imladris 💕

#elrond x reader #elrond imagine #elrond fanfiction #the rings of power imagine #rings of power imagine #trop imagine #trop x reader #rop imagine #rop fanfiction #rings of power fanfiction #the rings of power fanfic #from my pocketses

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feyhunter78 · 1 year

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Hey lovie!! It’s been a while😁 I was wondering if you could write something about Elrond taking care of the reader after they had a long day? Like they come home completely exhausted so he daws them a bath, washes their hair, and is a total sweetheart?

Hey babe!!!! I've got a little something short and sweet for you, I hope you like it!!!!

Long Day W/H Elrond HC

Your day has been awful. All your hard work was ruined, you spilled ink on your clothes, and you’d been so busy you didn’t eat anything until you were already starving and miserable. You trudge back to you and Elrond’s shared chambers, already undoing your complex braid and wishing you could just fall into bed and sleep.

Elrond looks up from his book when you enter, a bright smile on his face that quickly fades into a look of concern as he takes in your exhausted form.

“Oh how cruel the world is to dim the light of its most precious star.” He laments, standing quickly and pulling you into his arms. “Who has upset you, my y/n, tell me and I will do all in my power to set things right.”

You lean into his warmth, burying your face in his clothed chest, breathing in his comforting scent. “I have merely had a long day, husband. Everything that could go wrong did, and it all has become too much.”

Elrond cups your cheek and brushing a kiss to your forehead. “Rest then, my starlight, I will draw you a bath.”

You start to argue, telling him it’s wash day, and that it will take longer than normal considering your hair.

He shakes his head and guides you towards the bed, urging you to rest and wait.

You lay on your shared bed, and before you know it, you’re gently lifted into the air. You wake and rid yourself of your ink-stained clothing before slipping to the bath. Laying your head back, you let out a sigh of relief, the warm water soothing your tired body. Elrond begins to wet your hair, careful to keep the water out of your face.

You both sit in silence as he washes your hair, oh so careful not to get soap in your eyes or tug your hair. You hum in delight as his blunt fingernails massage your scalp, and soon you find the stress of your day melting away.

Once your bath is done, you dry yourself off and change into your nightclothes. Elrond lays close to you, his arms wrapped around you, keeping you pressed against him. “I am sorry the day has been so cruel to you, my starlight.” He whispered, pressing soft kisses to the plains of your face, each one a silent declaration of his devotion.

You tilt your head up, so your lips can meet his. “It is better now, with you.”

He smiled into your shared kiss, one of love and gentleness, that tasted sweet, and made your heart feel light. Elrond always had this unexplainable ability to make the world disappear when he kissed you. As if his lips could stop and start time, keeping you both locked in a perfect moment for as long as you remained connected.

Elrond broke the kiss, whispering how much he loved and adored you, how he wished he could take away all that which made you sad. You did the same, expressing how much you loved him, how much you appreciated and valued him. Then you finally fell asleep feeling refreshed and whole in your husband’s arms, ready to face the next morning, knowing he would always be there to comfort you when you returned.

Click here to the beautiful moodboard @emmyspov made for this little fic of mine🥺💗

Tag list: @nyctophilic0vitnir, @elronds-pointy-ears, @elrondscalaquendi, @dilf-superiority, @jesticace

#elrond x reader #elrond x you #elrond x y/n #elrond rop #rop elrond #young!elrond #young elrond #young elrond fanfic #rop #rop fanfiction #meg talks with the rop babes #thanks for the request!#I hope you like it!!!#meg's writing #rings of power fanfiction #elrond peredhel #elrond headcanons

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tree0frog · 6 months

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Hi!! Can I please have a maze runner and the lord of the rings romantic matchup?? (and forgive me if I make a mistake in the writing, I'm not fluent in english yet♡)

I'm pansexual and genderfluid, that uses all the pronouns.

I'm a brazilian, my house is Slytherin (but I have LOTS of Ravenclaw qualities), my sign is Leo and MBTI is INTJ. I have tan skin, dimples, brown eyes, straight black hair that goes below my waist and bangs. About my body, I think what stands out the most are the really thick thighs and the hands and feet that are really small. I wear glasses (I have astigmatism and myopia, my grade is VERY high); where i live is SO hot but i really like to wear sweats and pants so sometimes it's kind of hard but i think i wear any kind of clothes? I like to experiment with new styles and I really want to dye my hair but I didn't have the opportunity; I'm absolutely addicted to wearing necklaces, bracelets and especially rings, I'm always wearing several.

I have a quiet, observant, sarcastic and motherly personality, although from a distance it seems that I will be rude to you, I will actually be very calm and give you soft smiles. I can get stressed out easily but I don't show anything but glare, and above all I NEVER raise my voice, even in a fight the only thing I'm going to do is keep my voice calm with a firm, authoritative tone. I LOVE protecting and caring for people and listening to them talk about what they like, I always give them my FULLY attention. My love language is 100% touch, I am always touching the people I like and care about. Another thing is that I'm not a submissive person in a relationship, like no.

I'm completely in love with all kinds of art, especially dancing (I'm ALWAYS dancing while listening to music, which is pretty much all day long) and drawing/painting (sometimes I end up doing a whole drawing and not even realize it). I love reading and I always have a book with me, physical or digital. I love animals, I have cats, dogs, parrots, turtles and cockatiels, and I would give my life for them all without a second thought. Oh, I also love anything horror related with passion and bake, most of the time I don't even eat, I just bake and give it to people because I love it when they say they like what I made.

Hii sorry this took so long

Masterlist

Matchup -closed

Request-open

I pair you with Arwen

I think I’m the beginning of your relationship Elrond wasn’t the fondest of you but as time went on he grew to see you as family

Like with Aragon she has give you some type of jewellery but you also gave her one so your matching

She finds it cute that when you two are together and your board you will play with her hands or hair

I defo could see you and her falling asleep together watching the sun set

I pair you with newt

Like newt your only louder when you need to be

He has defo tired to learn your mother language but allways gave up

He has defo also taken your glasses and probably broken them once as well

He finds it cute when he wakes up and your laying agents him

He will dance in the rain with you no matter how much he said no you will make him

#fanfic #x reader #maze runner x reader #match up #tmr newt #newt x reader #lord of the ring x reader #Arwen x reader

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sanisse · 2 years

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I started reading the fic because I got very curious and

Eldritch Peredhel? What does it imply exactly?

oh please this is a dangerous ask. I could ramble about Eldritch Peredhel for hours.

It's a fanon thing that all of the Elrond/Luthien/Elros/etc. stans pass around and interpret differently, but basically it's the concept of...well...due to the maiar/ainur genetics, Peredhel may be a bit....eldritch, so like weird, perhaps a bit sinister-feeling, perhaps a bit creepy, and usually outside of something which our human brains can conceptualize or wrap around fully. They often set off the uncanny valley alarm. It also usually includes extra superpowers.

For me, I base my Eldritch Peredhel headcannons drawing from what we know of Melian the Maia (the most powerful Singer, able to create the Girdle of Melian/Doriath which turned the woods into a maze which confused unwanted foes and outsiders so they couldn't find their way in or out --more on that later--), Luthien (flowers popping up when she sang or danced, the ability to solo-out Morgoth himself, and Tolkien's descriptions of her in the lay of luthien), and then direct knowledge of what we know about the nature of Maiar and the Ainur.

Re: the Girdle of Melian, I think it’s very significant that the descriptions of the Girdle are extremely similar to the descriptions of the road to Rivendell. I actually don’t think Elrond is using Vilya to hide the Valley. I think that’s intuitive magic from the line of Melian that runs in his blood. Perhaps enhanced by Vilya, but the descriptions that Tolkien gives are so incredibly similar that I don’t think it’s a coincidence. I also don’t think it’s a coincidence that Elrond is lauded as having an immense connection to Music, and possibly the best current Voice in all of Middle Earth, considering Melian and Luthien’s abilities.

So... for Elrond, my main headcannons are as follows, HUGE post under the cut:

Most noticeably, his eyes are flecked with actual stars. That’s how he got his name (Vault of Heaven, Star Dome, Firmament, depending on who you ask about the translation). They glow a bit, and will turn into constellations and glow a lot if he’s a bit out of control of himself (high stress, tired, high emotion, has recently used a lot of his power, or...yeah....sex :D )

He heals using Songs of Power -- all Elves have access to Songs of Power, but Elrond has an especially strong connection via the line of Melian. Vilya definitely enhances his abilities to an extreme degree, but he can do crazy things that a normal healer would not be able to do (like transcending into the spiritual/astral realm and dragging someone’s soul back from the dead...an immense expense of effort and could possibly KILL him, but he does it anyway). Using his power like this is extremely exhausting and physically damaging. He always has to rest afterward and he does have limits. These limits are pushed out by Vilya, but he still DOES have them.

Re: songs of power: he has the ability to physically shape reality with his voice. I usually manifest this in the best bedtime stories. Like is he singing the lay of Luthien? Congrats you’ve got flowers blooming on your bedspread. Singing the tale of Nolofinwe dueling Morgoth to the death? You’ve got a live movie of it flashing around in the fire.

As mentioned above: he disguises the Hidden Valley using intuitive magic from his Ainur genetics. He can do this in even smaller/less noticeable ways (say, he doesn’t want to be bothered in his office today, so suddenly you can’t find it and the halls keep doubling back on themselves and you forget what you came for and eventually wander away).

During times of extreme emotion, or extreme expense of his powers, he will look less and less Elven/Mannish, and more and more Eldritch. He masks himself on a regular basis so as not to frighten others. So how this manifests in my head...I base it by taking Tolkien’s description of Luthien literally. His eyes literally glow with gray starlight, his hair literally becomes a roiling mass of ink...almost like it’s rending a hole in the fabric of space and time, he grows and lengthens (like how Gandalf does when he confronts Bilbo), and also feels bigger. Like, spiritually bigger. Like okay he’s physically this size but he feels like he swallows sunlight and fills the whole goddamn room. If he is angry, he radiates white-hot starlight from inside of himself to the point that it’s lighting up capillaries and veins, you wouldn’t really recognize him, and he can pretty much just rip you apart on a molecular level. Think like...bloodbending, from ATLA.

Now, re: the above, but when very happy, (like, say, in the throes of an orgasm...), he will look bewitchingly gorgeous. (Re, Thingol becoming bewitched by Melian and staring into her eyes for thousands of years). He can actually kind of almost...bewitch people in the same way in this state, but he doesn’t intend to. He still glows with starlight, his eyes will fleck with constellations and nebulae, and when he orgasms (i think about this way too much) he becomes extremely eldritch, like just a riot of stardust that you can’t really comprehend. And afterwards he just is like, this arcane thing that you can’t make sense of, feels like he could enfold you and swallow you whole but like in a good way.

Differences between emotions will effect the kind of Eldritch he feels. Like, for instance if he’s happy then you’ll go “wow what a gorgeous night sky in your eyes!”, if he’s trying to intimidate someone, his gaze will give you a sense of vertigo, like suddenly you’re hanging over the vast expanse of space and might fall in. If he is sad, upset, or fading, his eyes will just be like, vacant. The empty void of endless space -- a black hole, almost. Is he trying to figure out what you’re thinking and delve into your innermost being? You’ll start to feel like you’re being watched by a thousand, thousand different eyes from all directions. Is he trying to comfort you? He can physically find your rhythm in your soul and kind of slow it down and anchor it to himself.

Another note: when he loses control of himself for any reason, he starts to like, be there and not there and flicker between thousands of different forms in a millisecond. It’s hard to explain... he did this a lot as a child and it really freaked Mae and Mags out lmao. The “flickering between a thousand different forms at once” I actually pull from Tolkien’s description of him in the Hobbit and in Fellowship. I’m pretty sure he doesn’t mean it that way but....

"The face of Elrond was ageless, neither old nor young, though in it was written the memory of many things both glad and sorrowful. His hair was dark as the shadows of twilight, and upon it was set a circlet of silver; his eyes were grey as a clear evening, and in them was a light like the light of stars. Venerable he seemed as a king crowned with many winters, and yet hale as a tried warrior in the fulness of his strength. He was the Lord of Rivendell and mighty among both Elves and Men."

Genderqueer and bisexual (almost pan) - Tolkien is very clear that Ainur have no gender and no set sexuality, and can choose at any time.

Shapeshifts to a small degree, often without really intending to. Canonically, Ainur can change forms at will (we see this most often with Sauron pre losing the Ring). Elrond can do this in a small way, like if a book is too high up for him he can lengthen to reach it rather than grabbing a stepladder, lol. He often does stuff like this without meaning to. And also...his physical proportions will change on a day-to-day basis in small ways, but that’s outside of his control and actually super annoying because it’s hard to find clothes that fit and he feels good in.

I feel like I probably have more of these but those are the main ones!

#sanisse speaks #elrond #Tolkien meta #this is going to EXPOSE me if anyone happens to read my main blog's fics lmao #these are SO hyperspecific to me as a writer and no one else in the silm fandom has these exact headcannons

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melpomaen · 6 months

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Given the absolutely wonderful Lindir x Haldir, it now just be time for Rúmil x Melpo no? Or just Melpo hcs?

Just very innocently asking ya know

-@elithilanor

I am rehauling my Rúmil X Mel headcanons because the person who used to write Rúmil for me is kind of retired from writing, but I have most of the broad strokes of their timeline down 🌹

Rumil/Figwit hcs

The beginning

I hc that when Haldir is early in his career as a marchwarden, Rivendell used to be somewhere he was sent to often, either as security in larger parties or as a single messenger. Eventually, his duties shift and the Rivendell assignments fall into Rúmil's lap instead.

One of the first times they get a glimpse at each other is when Lindir drags Mel out of Elrond's House to enjoy the view. "The view" is marchwardens arriving in Rivendell. I like the idea that it's kind of shitty out when Lindir does it, so Mel is just like ...What view? Oh. –OH.

RúMel Things

Generally Mel goes by his Sindarin name (Maenod) but Rúmil earns the right to call him Mel/Melpomaen with him in record time.

Mel finds out that Rúmil draws and is absolutely fucking delighted. In a similar vein, Rúmil can watch Mel write for hours. It doesn't even have to be calligraphy or a fancy manuscript, just Mel's penmanship in general. They read to each other often as well.

Mel is very interested in Rú's stories and travels. Rú hasn't actually been around that much (mostly Rivendell and Mirkwood like once or twice) but Mel is still impressed.

Rúmil makes his move by bringing Mel flowers.

Mel starts teaching Rú Quenya. He's a bit past conversational by the end of the Third Age. It's a labor of love on both their parts because learning languages and switching between them in different places/contexts stresses Rúmil tf out. He doesn't speak it super often, but it's nice to know what Mel's family is saying when they're all passing time at home. He also gains far more access to all the weird shit Mel mutters under his breath when he's trying to Get Shit Done. –Turns out, Mel swears like a Gondolin soldier when no ones around.

Rú doesn't teach him North River Pendarin because he's so used to only speaking it in limited contexts that it genuinely slips his mind. He's also gotten a bit worse at speaking it over the years. He still understands it spoken. When Mel meets Haldir and Orophin formally for the first time, they both give Rú a little bit of shit because what do you mean you forgot tell your boyfriend with the language hyperfixation that we speak North River Pendarin

Rúmil's Westron is pretty rough. It's, like, several generations of men out of date and mostly choice phrases like "Get thee gone." and "Return whence you came or fkn else." Rú thinks it's fine for his purposes. Mel's been working on it on it, but they're more focused on Quenya.

Occasionally Rúmil makes a dumb comment about mortals. If they're at Elrond's House, Mel kicks him out of his room for the night. If they're elsewhere, the closest equivalent occurs.

Mel doesn't really have a taste for alcohol. He usually takes one or two sips and slips Rú the rest unless it's something very sweet.

They both love to dance and will spend the whole evening doing so when they have the opportunity.

A section just for hair headcanons

They start braiding each other's hair. It's really easy to tell, which Rú likes a lot. Mel usually wears his very plain, but he's happy to sit while Rú does something more elaborate with it. Rúmil tends to wear the same functional hairstyle day to day, so it's really obvious that Mel put his hair up when he goes around with flower braids and Noldorin hair accessories.

Glorfindel taught Mel a lot of the hairstyles he knows. Sometimes, if Rú is going out hunting or traveling, Mel braids his hair the same way he would for Glorfindel out of habit. Some people do a double take early on, but after it becomes common knowledge that Rúmil and Mel are together no one blinks. It's not like Glorfindel has a patent on the braids or anything. There's just not a lot of people around still putting their hair up in the popular fashion of the House of the Golden Flower circa FA 500.

Mel inherited a good armful of hair accessories from Glorfindel. After they become close, Mel sends Rú home with a golden flower clip.

When Rú gives him a strand of hair to keep, one of the ways Mel keeps it is by braiding it into a small flower shape that he pins into his hair.

When they start courting, they like to do each other's hair in their respective culture's style if they're getting dressed up for something more fancy.

Sometimes it slips Rú's mind that Mel is a Noldo, but the first time they go all out for a festival/big formal event Mel pulls out a spread of jewelry and Rúmil is like Ah. Yes. That's right. Valar above, you guys fkn love your metals. By the time Mel is done, Rúmil has never had so much metal in his hair in his life. He's mildly worried some of it is going to fly out when they dance.

Mel gives Rúmil his hair to make into bow strings occasionally.

They get married, eventually.

When Rúmil breaks the news that he's officially courting Maenod to his brothers they're like Congratulations! then immediately start interrogating him in sibling fashion.

Haldir stands in as the father figure for his brothers' betrothal and wedding ceremonies. He's been through this once before with Orophin so he knows the drill but he's Stressed about it. Notably more than Rúmil is.

Meanwhile, Mel's family is just like this is wonderful! They already like Rúmil and his family. They're not worried about it.

Mel is little nervous about meeting Rú's family formerly, though he's already interacted with them before briefly. He's most nervous about Haldir because he has a reputation in Lorien, both as a Notable and Respectable marchwarden and for being kind of harsh. Lindir helps calm his nerves by reporting that Haldir is only a hardass to wardens and/or younger brothers.

Mel had nothing to worry about; he gets on fantastic with Rúmil's family, especially the brothers.

Rúmil and Mel get betrothed relatively quickly, but it takes them some time to set a wedding date. Neither of them are certain whether they'll sail or stay in Middle Earth. They don't want to end up in a situation where they marry, then one person gets sea-longing and/or chooses the opposite path.

I hc that Orophin marries first out of the three brothers. Haldir/Lindir's Indefinitely Long Situationship™ goes on for so long that it overlaps with Rúmil/Figwit's Indefinitely Long Bethrothal™. Orophin watches this unfold like You have to be fucking kidding me. BOTH of you?

Sometime during the events of the Lord of the Rings, Rú decides he would follow Mel anywhere, whether he sails or stays, and they plan to wed as soon as they're able to see each other again.

They get married in Lorien when Elrond's party stops along the way to Aragorn and Arwen's wedding.

#Maenod | Melpomaen | Figwit #Rúmil of Lorien #About Mel #queer lotr #Tolkien #Rúmil / Figwit #Orophin #Haldir #Glorfindel #//i remembered a read more this time guys

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kalinara · 6 months

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I'm starting to get a little obsessed with Rings of Power, I have to admit. I'm not entirely sure why - perhaps I just really have a need to rejoin a fandom that is full of hyper-pedantic purists who nit-pick endlessly over contradicting canon material, racist "historians" who apparently never heard of the Moorish invasion, Mongol invasion, the Silk Road, or any of a thousand other reasons why actual historical people of color might have ended up in medieval Europe, and the usual victim-blaming villain apologists. (I won't lie, I also think the Feanorians are pretty compelling. I draw the line at blaming the invaded people for not wanting to hand the magic rock over to repeated mass murderers though.)

Eh, maybe I'll stick to my own corner. There's some good fic out there though.

These are my initial observations from the first episode:

1. There's more indirect Silmarillion references than I expected. From fan reaction, I thought they were scrapping the entire thing. But it seems like most of Elrond's fucked up backstory is intact. Or at least not contradicted. (I think there's even a Feanor namedrop in a later episode?)

2. Galadriel is so pretty, OMG. And her armor doesn't have boobs!

3. Elrond is adorable. Of all the fannish complaints, I have the most sympathy for the one about Elrond having Steve Harrington hair. I feel like it might be a character beat though. They seem to be leaning a bit into the idea of the Peredhel being not quite accepted in general elf society, so maybe that's meant to be a tiny little rebellion?

3b. The idea of the Peredhel not being particularly accepted does seem like a deviation from the Silmarillion, but then that was pretty broad strokes. We know EVENTUALLY Gil-galad and Elrond will be homoerotically joined at the hip, but it might take a while to get there.

3c. I would like him to grow it out eventually though. The current look doesn't suit his face. I think something longer and pinned back a bit might work better with those angles.

3d. The idea of Elrond not being an "elf lord" seems particularly offensive given the poor guy is arguably the heir of every elf kingdom under the sun. Then again, none of those elf kingdoms actually exist anymore. Except the one Gil-galad's running. But I actually really like the poor put-upon clerk with quiet ambitions aspect of his character. It's pretty rare to see open ambition treated as, if not a positive trait, then a neutral one.

I feel like there's this thing, in popular western media, where we adore the wise and powerful figures - the wise king, if you will, but we don't like the idea of someone actually wanting and trying to achieve that role. The only good powerful person, we say, is the one that doesn't want it. They get it by chance, by birthright, by being in the right place at the right time. Even if they "earn" it, it's generally by doing something heroic, completely unrelated to governing people or dealing with politics. THOSE sorts are almost invariably the Wrong Choice.

But what if you want to enact real, positive change? What if you want to protect people or take care of people? How do you do that, if you're not in a position of power? How do you get power, when you're not really allowed to want it?

(I might be projecting too many good motives onto my historically favorite character, but I have future canon knowledge that he does a pretty decent job when he actually IS in charge of shit, so there you go.)

4. I love that Galadriel and Elrond look like they're the same height. Google tells me he's 6', and she's 5'4". I'd never have guessed. Nice camera work. Or phenomenal job at hiding the stilts.

5. I love that elf aging seems to be completely arbitrary. Elrond and Galadriel look like babies. Gil-galad looks middle-aged*, while Celebrimbor...well, I guess being only non-murderous Feanorian is really stressful?

5b. It hurts me to say that as Gil-galad's actor is maybe a year older than I am. But alas, that's life.

5c. Celebrimbor also has short hair. Maybe it's a Feanorian thing? That'd be kind of interesting. Did Tolkien ever specifically SAY they had long hair?

6. I have no idea who Arondir is. It's probably worth noting that I haven't read the Silmarillion since college, which might explain why I'm not really nitpicking anything. Whether he's one of the umpteen tragic elves from that book, or a canon newcomer, I don't care. I want to keep him.

6b. I'd like to see that elf who said that there were only two elven-human marriages and they ended in death and despair to say that to Elrond's face. Wait, no. I think he might cry. Say that to Idril Celebrindal. I fucking dare you. (Tuor would absolutely hold her flowers.)

7. I wasn't expecting the hobbits. No one mentioned the hobbits.

8. Also, no idea what the Southlands are, but it's an interesting story beat. From an average human perspective, what makes one powerful overlord better than another? Especially given some of the shit the good-guy elves got up to over the years.

9. Everything looks really pretty and nothing's really happening yet, but this is Tolkien. I sat through the extended editions of the movies (...might have fallen asleep at one point, but that's between me and the Professor), I can wait a few episodes before things start to happen.

Anyway, I'm looking forward to seeing the next one.

#sparkly elves and their jewelry #for your own sanity don't look up Elrond's family tree #an essay crept into my list - sorry #I remember the parts of the Silmarillion I cared about. The rest was all dead elves and humans with annoyingly similar names.#The parts I liked also have dead elves and people with annoyingly similar names but they also had or led to my favorite character

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theblogofdurin · 2 years

Text

Cloaked in Green || Chp.12: Narsil

word count: 2.6k

Comment down below what you think!

summary: white council meeting pt.1, Aranea and Thorin have a moment

warning(s): mentions of family members death

Official pairing: Thorin Oakenshield x Fem!OC

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

read here-> cloaked in green masterlist

------‐-‐---------------

The White Council, composed of Saruman the White, Lord Elrond, Lady Galadriel, and Gandalf the Grey sit at the pavilion in the Haven of Orladion. The wizards were seated at the table across from one another, while Galadriel and Elrond walked about the landing.

“Tell me Gandalf,-” Saruman spoke first, his voice almost dripping in crudeness. “-did you think these plans and schemes of yours would go unnoticed?”

“Unnoticed? No, I’m simply doing what I feel to be right-”

“This dragon has long since been on your mind.” Galadriel interrupted, turning to glance at him. Sighing, Gandalf knew he was caught, though he tried to save his point. “This is true, my lady." He continued.

"However, Smaug owes allegiance to no one. But if he should side with the enemy, a dragon could be used to terrible effect.”

“What enemy? “ scoffing, Saruman gestured to the air around the table. “Gandalf, the enemy is defeated. Sauron is vanquished.” He stressed. “He can never regain his full strength.”

Rubbing his forehead, Elrond felt even more exasperated at the wizard than usual. “Gandalf, for four hundred years, we have lived in peace; a hard won, watchful peace. " He stressed.

"Are we?! Are we at peace?!" Gandalf accused " Trolls have come down from the mountains. They are raiding villages, destroying farms. Orcs have attacked us on the road." Gandalf gestured over at the elf. "You, yourself had said that the Goblins have started venturing farther and furthering out of Misty-"

"Hardly a prelude to war." Elrond sighed again, closing his eyes and moving to turn his back to the table. Galadriel smiled over at his back lightly, regardingly, before moving her gaze back to the wizard.

"Always must you meddle?" Saruman shook his head from across the table. "Looking for trouble where none exists. There is a right mind to-"

"Let him speak." the soft tone of her voice carried, Galadriel, stopped behind Gandalf before nodding.

"There is something at work beyond the evil of Smaug. Something far more powerful." Gandalf further stressed "We can remain blind, but it will not be ignoring us, that I can promise you. A sickness lies over Greenwood. The woodsmen who live there now call it ‘Mirkwood’. and they say-." The grey wizard trailed off. His mind connected a few points that he hadn't considered.

The Ranger that came for Aranea...his urgency and her obvious display of anxiety as they talked…could it have truly all been unraveling under their noses all this time?

"Your mind is opening" the elven queen spoke to him and his mind only now. “You carry something? It came to you from Radagast. He found it in Dol Guldur."

"Yes"

"Show me."

With the voice ringing in the deep mind, Gandalf abruptly moved to pull out Radagast' s package. Saruman rolled his eyes, "..or I'd think I was talking to myself-".

Setting it almost fearfully on the table, the wrapped material let out a small dull thud. Gandalf was almost too quick to draw his hands away after the noise.

Even more confused and tired, Elrond was the first to speak, gesturing. "What is that?"

"A relic of Mordor." Galadriel answered

Elrond, who was reaching out to unwrap the package, drew his hand back. He then reaches for it again and opens it, revealing the sword Radagast took from the spirit in Dol Guldur.

The White Council members look upon it in shock, or more baffled. Elrond spoke first again, hiding the mild fear in his heart. "A Morgul blade."

Galadriel continued for him, herself now putting pieces of the equation together. "Made for the Witchking of Angmar, and buried with him. When Angmar fell, men of the North took his body and all that he possessed and sealed it within the High Fells of Rhudaur. Deep within the rock they buried them, in a tomb so dark it would never come to light."

"This is not possible. " Elrond interrupted, insisting the unlikely.. " Many powerful spells lie upon those tombs; they cannot be opened."

"And what proof do we have that this weapon came from Angmar’s grave?" Saruman eyebrow raised in question. Gandalf smiles.

<><><><>

By the time I finally got out of the eyesight of Gandalf and Elrond, I was already calmed down .

Honestly. I did not know why I was so pressed on how Elrond reacted to the company's quest. I remember overhearing their conversation as I made my way up the path out of the gardens. Elrond had perfect reasons to be nervous about this quest, all things considered. However, I did not expect to go almost feral when Elrond mentioned Thorin. My emotions completely escaped my control and words that barely grazed my thoughts started flying out of my mouth.

Yet, I couldn’t bring myself to regret them as much as I probably should. Again I understand Elrond's excuse that Dwarves are prone to greed. However, he fails to see that Elves are known just as much for their pride. Just like Men's lust after power is known. Each race present on Middle-Earth has its faults, (though at the moment I fail to have enough information regarding Hobbits so I am excluding them from this conversation to further my point); and all of them have high points that should also be considered.

Elves have their grace and dignity,-

Dwarves have their loyalty and strength,-

and Men have their generosity and courage.

A change in perspective could stop so many wars, if only both sides had that kind of empathy. I shook my head as I walked the familiar corridors and chambers. I was originally headed towards the others in the guest quarters. I feared they would backtrack on their good graces with me and completely shun me if I strayed too far and too long here. Yet, I knew it would probably be best if I did stray away for right now. Letting myself completely collect my thoughts and emotions again. If Dwarfs are as protective of their women as Gandalf mentioned. There is a small possibility that seeing me riled might make them lose any composure that they have.

I chuckled at the thought. I could just imagine tiny Ori popping Lindir in the head with a stone from his slingshot. Highly amused with the thought I suppressed a smile as I rounded the corner leading to the mural and stand.

Sighing heavily, I merely glanced at the mural having already studied it for one lifetime. Instead, I moved my gaze to the stature that was curved up from the stand that held the infamous shards... Or at least some of them. Still eyeing the woman, I felt my hand graze the two empty spots, trailing from the velvet texture to the cotton fabric of the blue string bag that hung on the back of my belt.

“I believe this is the brightest idea.” I remembered Elrond saying as he smiled from in between Estel and I.

“It's the safest idea,” I remembered Aragorn murmuring where he thought I couldn’t hear.

“Always the worrier." I smiled over at him, to which he cracked a smile back.

The smile that came with that memory didn't leave me as I gently lifted my hand to lightly touch the cheek of the woman. Before moving it to rest against my heart bowing to both her and the rest of the sword.

**"What is this?" I jumped at the voice, turning sharply as a gasp left me. Stumbling slightly off the last step.

Thorin apparently finding my disheveled hilarious let out a quick deep laugh. "A Ranger caught off her guard?"** I had to glanced away from his smile as I felt my heart about to burst either from pure horror or pure embarrassment I wasn't sure. Either way, I was sure my face was bright red as I grappled. "Wait till Balin hears about this."

“Oh Don’t” I chuckled, as I finally got a grip on myself “It might crush him.”

Thorin only chuckled and shook his head more before his gaze moved over the mural. I watched as his brain took in the detail and depiction of what it was telling. Automatically like everyone else, he eyes moved to that stature that stood across from the wall.

“So the tales are true?”

“It depends on what tales you are referring to.” I answered crypticity. Thorin’s lips tugged at the corners, as he continued to study the shards.

“The Shards of Narsil.” he spoke without a question. “The blade that cut Sauron’s hand.” I nodded away at his words as I continued to gauge his reaction.

“There are pieces missing?” his eyebrows furrowed as he stepped forward without thinking as if he was making sure his eyes weren’t failing him. I smiled.

“Only hidden in separate places.” Thorin eyes jumped towards me again in surprise at the tone and as our eyes accidentally locked I couldn’t help but feel that same overwhelming warmth spread through me. I had to look away, my poor heart has never experienced this kind of abuse before.

“I know this is prying, and I don’t mean to be so.” I heard Thorin start as I heard his feet move back to the mural. “But why is this all here?”

“No, that is a fair question to ask.” facing him again, I saw him studying the artwork. “It’s kinda a long story, with many reasons. I believe the main reason was that Elrond was there.” I stepped closer so as not to feel like yelling. “ At the War of Alliance, he is one of the few still living with the memory of Isildur and Sauron. He fears the day he will rise again. He's helpful in keeping history alive.”

“We were always taught that it was nothing more than a story made up by wet nurses to scare the babes” he murmured. “That the line of Elendil was broken after Angmar invaded Arnor.” rubbing a hand down his face and pulling slightly at his beard.

“We almost were, less than a third of the population managed to survive it." I couldn’t help but be confused as I watched Thorin's stressed face. “What's the matter-”

“I overheard you earlier.” he coughed slightly as glanced back at the doorway. “I have to admit, I am rather…curious…on why you defended me?”

“I defended the company and the quest,” waving a hand discarding, “besides I was merely stating the obvious.” turning to face away from Thorin, I stepped towards the side railing next to the statue, resting my forearms on top of it.

“Well it appears the obvious seems to be only obvious to you.” I could feel the eye roll in his voice.

“That's one of my downsides.” I spoke honestly, grinning slightly to myself, I listened to Thorin as he let out a light laugh. “Fine.”

“It's because I respect you Master Oakenshield. You are doing something that my ancestors and I have failed to do for three thousand years.”

Ignoring the almost shocked silence, I turned back to face him. His cerulean eyes filled with even more questions. I smiled internally as I could feel that signature warmth that always came with Thorin and his presence.

Sighing, I gestured to the entryway “The others will probably be wondering where we went off too.”

“Yes” he groaned, shaking his head, “I would prefer my nephews not getting into any more strange dealings with elves.” Laughing at his expression, I moved to lead the way out of the pavilion landing.

“Poor Kili, he’ll never live that down” I laughed “Fili and Kili are quite the duo.” I agreed as we fell into step. A slow pace even for dwarf strides.

“Always have been.” Looking down I noticed a tiny smile. It looks good on him. “Ever since they were little. A steel chain couldn’t separate them.”

“So they’re your brother’s children?”

“Sister’s” he corrected “ Dis is the youngest of us, however I did fight alongside their father, Vili at the Battle of Azanulbizar. He was an honorable fighter. Fili is practically a spitting image of him”

“He passed?” my heartfelt for the brothers, they both couldn’t have been more than a babe and a toddler at the time...I felt the sense of kinship with their pain.

Pursing his lips Thorin nodded sadly taking a deep breath. “Along with so many others, My brother, Frerin, was also one of them.”

“I’m so sorry I wasn’t aware-”

“Don’t fret,” he said gently “The pain is not fresh, so it's more easier to talk of it”

“Still,” I shook my head. “ I cannot imagine a world where I lost my brother.”

“So you two are pretty close?” he asked as we went down another flight of stairs.

“Yes, very much. Probably as much as Fili and Kili." I laughed to myself. "-partially it has to do with us being twins, everything we did growing up was with each other. We shared everything right down the middle and somehow we were both the happiest that way. He's my best friend.”

“Is that why you both decided to split your title?”

"Partly” I nodded, continuing “It felt like the easiest choice that way. However, like most things, there were other reasons, one being that It’s easier to split one role instead of having to create another.” Thorin nodded along as I spoke, seeming to understand.

“I agree, it does seem like it would be less complicated that way.”

We fell into a comfortable silence there, not having anything else to add; both of us were still moving at our leisurely pace. I appreciated the quiet, it gave me time to think about all that has unfolded in the last hour.

Yet, at the same time my mind became filled with thoughts revolving around the regal dwarf king walking next to me. Walking with his hands behind his back as we reach the final staircase before reaching the guest patio. From my angle I could see the moonlight reflecting off the 3 small metal beads that were laced through his almost raven black hair.

I don’t recall the exact reason why Dwarves are so particular about their hair. But I do know that there must be a specific reason for each of the beads and their placement.

“Tell me more about your family, if you don’t mind.” Thorin broke the silence.

Smiling at the sudden question, “What do you want to know?” I asked, genuine. “It's all long stories and explanations.”

“No need to shorten them, I know that feeling.” he laughed with me. “You have spoken of your brother and mother but not your father. Why is that?”

Almost hesitantly I told him. “I didn’t really know my father, he was killed in an Orc raid when my brother and I were very little.” Now feeling guilty for asking, I saw his head sharply at me, but I stopped him by adding. "It is quite alright.

Looking back at the river, I continued. "It's how my mother ended up here in Rivendell, she knew that Elrond would help her regain her footing, while making sure my brother and I were safe."

"So that's your connection." he spoke slowly as he seemed to put all the pieces together, looking down I was able to make out the look of realization on his face.

Nodding, "Yes, that is all. Elrond fought alongside Elendil and Isildur in the War of the Last Alliance. He felt obligated to help us at the time."

It seems that I had become so preoccupied with my conversation with Thorin that I seemed to lose the idea of time and space. For we were now barely 100 yards away from where the others were. Their yells and laughter are just beginning to echo down towards us.

A sense of dread filled my stomach as I saw the light from their fire flicker against the stones. I was enjoying myself and the feeling of ending the night was not enjoyable.

Without much thought it seems, Thorin stopped to step behind as he rested his hands to look over the railing that came up to his midchest. Smiling at the appeal he put off, and moving to stand next to him. I rested my hands on the railing.

“Is there something the matter?” I asked gently as I looked across at the scene in front of us, the trees and the river were truly loving this time of year.

“No, just not quite ready for their loudness just yet.” he spoke low, my heart juttered in my chest, hopeful. Letting a small smile at my hands.

"You seemed quite relieved when I told you about my relation to Elrond…Why is that? I hope I didn't give you any reason to doubt me."

"No no" Thorin was quick to deny, "It's just.."

"Just?" I teased, still unable to meet his almost panicky gaze.

"Me and my people are not used to people so willing to help us." He sighed "It has made us.." he searched for the word.

"Stubborn?" I smiled down at him, he flickered a glare up at me, but stopped once he saw I was merely toying. Laughing softly, "Noo. I was going to say 'wary'"

"Ahh,-" I murmured, nodding. "I can understand that, especially since it's Elves. If it was King Thengel and not Lord Elrond, your wariness wouldn't be so strong."

He nodded "Exactly. Though still wary." I nodded as I took this information, it makes sense given the rivalry between Dwarves and Elves.

“Lady Aranea?”

Turning around, I was met with a blonde elf-maiden, bowing slightly “Mister Gandalf, wishes for your presence at the White Council.”

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

taglist still open! @lokigirlszendaya @caelum-the-part-time-nihilist @emrfangirl @lathalea @hr-nm-grnd-zr @markosgirl @demigoddesofchimichangagod @imaginesfire @kaysteahouse @tamnight @mithrandirssidehoe @panhoeofmanyfandoms @petrelrose @irisv-x @fandoms4ever97 @Leabeiersdorf07 @nunyobuisness @fallinloveinoctober @mysterypotatoink @whore-of-many-hot-men @generalgoldfishldrm @thevanillahorizon

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spideyanakin · 4 years

Text

i need you to turn to (l.g)

Legolas Greenleaf x Elf! Reader

summary - Legolas is more then obliviously to his feelings

requested by anon // hihi! ok so I don't really have a plot but here's the request: one shot with legolas or will turner, you choose. Reader is an awkward and insecure babe around legolas/will but really badass out there? She's aware of her feelings but doesn't say anything, while the boys are still questioning their feelings? Could you possibly make it really angsty but then a fluff ending?

back to main masterlist

legolas masterlist

You were quiet and clumsy. And a little too clumsy for the fellowship, or at least for Gimli's taste, and the fact that he hated elves wasn’t helping.

You didn’t speak much, nor helped much during the long days of walks around middle earth, and it stressed Gimli out in every possible way.

“She could at least carry one of the Hobbits bags,” Gimli grumbled to Aragorn as he shifted Pippin’s bag on his shoulder.

“But Pippin asked you Gimli.” Aragorn simply replied and walked a little further from Gimli, each step taking him closer to destroying the ring.

The only person you’d actually talk to was Legolas. You’d met him at Elrond’s castle and he was the only person here that didn’t intimidate you and on the contrary, you’d feel the most comfortable with him.

He was always there to help you when you tripped or go behind the group with you as you always walked a little slower.

You were always a little shy and scared to talk to the others. Aragorn intimidated you, and weirdly so did the Hobbits. The fact that a little Hobbit like Frodo was able to carry the ring surprised you every day and it even made you nervous to talk to him.

Gimli’s words didn’t help either. He would always complain to Aragorn, which didn’t help you because it just made you scared Aragorn thought the same.

The first few weeks passed by and you stayed close to Legolas. Trying the best you could to talk to someone else every once in a while.

You walked around a river to get to the mines of Moria, getting your attention taken by Legolas watching you and accidentally tripping, Legolas catching you in a swift.

“I thought elves suppose to be agile,” Gimli grumbled as you tripped for the tenth time since the start of the fellowship. “Im starting to question Elrond’s decision to bring you here.”

You stared at him and shook your head, Legolas helping you up.

"It was my decision actually." Gandalf replied to Gimli and continued his way towards the mines.

You made eye contact with Legolas and smiled as you fell into his deep blue elven eyes. You had caught feelings for him during those two weeks and you couldn’t help it as your heart leaped in your chest.

“Don’t worry about him.” he winked. “Im sure Elrond and Gandalf asked you to come with us for a reason.” He smiled and walked forward towards the rest of the fellowship, his hand still intertwined with yours.

You followed him as a slight blush painted your cheeks, the warmth of his hand sending chills to your body.

“Speak Mellon to enter” Gandalf questioned as you all made a stop in front of the mines of Moria.

After a few trial and error, the door opened and you all walked through the cold dark mines, the humid scent of moss filling your nostrils.

The second you walked in, Legolas walked further and a little faster than you, dropping the grip he had on your hand.

You instantly missed the warmth of his hand as you saw him walk a little further up to talk with Gandalf.

You placed a hand on your bow in precaution, the mines not making you feel safe.

Before you knew it Gimli was crying because of his lost cousins and Pippin made an armor fall making goblins surround the entire place.

You and the rest of the fellowship felt surrounded and you directly drew your bow fighting like you had fought all your life.

Boromir stood in shock as he watched you killed five goblins in less than a second, and Gimli’s jaw dropped when he saw you quickly place your bow on your shoulder and draw your two swords, planting them in between your arms, killing two new goblins behind you.

You fixed your hair and turned your wrists making a circle with you swords before placing them back on your side and grabbing your bow.

You watched them and smirked, knowing too well what was going through their little minds. The two men who underestimated you were so frozen that they didn’t see the mass of goblin attacking them from behind.

“Guys!” You shouted towards them and prepared your bow.

They quickly shook their heads and fought the best they could, feeling dumb and skilless next to you.

“I didn’t know you fought like that.” Legolas chuckled as he approached you and chuckled back a smirk forming on your lips.

“You underestimated me too?” You asked raising an eyebrow as you continued fighting

“Never.”

But your skills weren't enough to save Gandalf or Boromir or even the two little Hobbits who were taken by orcs.

It would be a lie if you said you didn’t blame yourself for everything that happened to them.

You had maybe gained Gimli's and Aragorn's respect but you still felt like the whole world was against you, and Legolas was just oblivious to it all.

You walked to save Merry and Pippin, every day feeling the pressure of the people that passed away during these weeks, and your more than blooming feelings for Legolas not helping at all.

Everything you seemed to do or every sign that you seemed to try and pass weren't enough or just weren't seen by him, and it stressed you out. He was oblivious to everything you tried and it killed you.

It stressed you out that he didn’t feel the same, even tho sometimes you thought he did. So you stayed away from him, ignoring him, and trying your best to control your feelings when the entire world was against you.

You walked days on end, always feeling on edge, Legolas not understanding your certain change of mood, and Aragorn not understanding how he could not get all the signs you were giving him.

When Gandalf came back you felt a pressure lift off your shoulder, and when King Theoden had invited you to stay, you knew you could finally have some time to rethink your feelings.

His castle was way more peaceful then the rest of the adventure was and that’s what you needed... Peace.

“Legolas what are you playing at?” Aragorn asked as he brought one of Theoden’s golden cups to his lips.

“What do you mean?” Legolas asked Aragorn as he lifted his stare off of you. You had just walked into the great hall of the castle ready to join your friends for dinner.

To Legolas’s surprise, you were wearing one of Eowyn’s gowns and it had made Legolas knees weak.

He brought his focus back on Aragorn and gave him a clueless smile.

“Y/n...” He asked as Aragorn made sure you were far enough to not hear your name.

“Yes?” Legolas felt his cheeks burn up at the mention of your name and awkwardly chuckled.

“I asked what are you playing at,” Aragorn said a second time drumming his fingers on the table as Legolas looked at him like a deer in headlights. I can’t stop imagining that gif from tumblr where Legolas is like ?????

“You tell me you think you like her but that she probably doesn’t like you, and then when she gives you very obvious signs that she does like you, all you do is act like a total fool. So she obviously thinks you don’t like her and she’s definitely acting off and you don't realize it and keep that goofy smile of yours every time you see her.” Aragorn deadpanned making Legolas freeze on the spot.

“She likes me?” He whispered and pointed to his chest with his fingers. “But i-” Legolas’s words failed him and he watched you as you passed right in front of him, making eye contact and not even twitching a smile as you did.

You sat near Gandalf and greeted him, greeting Gimli and Aragorn too.

Silence fell as Legolas realized the tension that had build between you. Gimli suddenly burst out laughing and tapped Legolas’s back as he did. Legolas looked at you with worry as he realized what had happened without him even noticing.

He looked at his plate and then back to Aragorn his face twisting in horror.

He suddenly got up and walked towards you. You raised an eyebrow at the sudden move and questioned him when he made a stop in front of you.

“I need to talk to you,” Legolas replied and you questioned his sudden want to talk with you.

“Alright?” You replied still a little cold towards him and you shifted in your seat so you could make eye contact. You waited for him to speak but to your surprise, no words came out of his mouth.

“Not here.” He scrunched up his eyes and nose and let out a small sigh. “Somewhere... private.” He eyed what was left of the fellowship and then came back to your eyes.

“Alright. Will, you excuse me?” You spoke towards your friends and made a face towards Aragorn. You stood up and made eye contact with the elf prince once again. “Alright then. Where to?”

You walked into the gardens of the palace of Rohan, waiting for Legolas to finally say what was stuck in his throat.

You observed the flowers as you walked next to each other, not sharing a word, tension between you two so strong someone could cut it with a knife.

“Im sorry.” He finally spoke up and made a halt. You stopped too and your stare shifted from the view of Rohan to Legolas.

“So you finally noticed.” You let out a bitter chuckle and folded your arms using them as a mental shield.

“I was being a jerk to you and I didn’t even realize.” He sighed and tried to reach for your hand but you took a step back instead.

“Im really sorry and I mean it... It took Gandalf, Gimli, and Aragorn for me to realize that I actually really really like you and that you liked me back which I never thought was possible.”

Your brain stopped working when the words ‘really like you’ left his mouth and stuck to your ears.

“I was being a jerk to you without even knowing, and I- I thought you stopped talking to me because you thought I was an arrogant prince.” He breathed out and you finally turned towards him.

“And I thought you were mocking me. I thought you didn’t like me at all, and you acted as you did. But you never actually did anything when I gave you signs of liking you.” Legolas’s brain cut off at your words as he tried to decode your sentence like a riddle.

“You thought I didn’t like you?” He titled his head in confusion.

“No.” You let out a sad chuckle. “You know how hard it is when someone your basically in love with doesn’t give back your affection for them?” You dropped your arms to each side of your body in defeat and Legolas immediately answered the question.

“Yeah!” He exclaimed taking one step towards you, which you didn’t mind this time. “I have been in love with you since the second I saw you at Elrond’s council and my dumb elf brain didn’t realize it until Aragorn told me.”

You stayed breathless as Legolas finished his sentence and looked right into your eyes.

“Prove it.” You stammered and Legolas raised an eyebrow before a light smirk painted his face.

Before you could even react he grabbed your hand and pushed you closer to him sealing the distance with a long-awaited kiss.

You snaked your hand around his neck as though you could get even closer to him and smiled into the kiss as you felt his lips on yours.

“Finally.” You chuckled and Legolas chuckled with you placing a strand of hair behind your ear, giving you a loving look as a smile was finally back on your face.

“I cAn’T SeE” A voice followed with a small crash suddenly broking your moment. You both snapped your head towards the noise and couldn’t help laughing when you saw Gimli face planted on the floor and Gandalf trying to get him out of your sight.

“It wasn’t my idea.” Aragorn soon came out from behind the pillar and raised his hands in innocence.

“Next time you better let me see,” Gimli grumbled towards Aragorn.

“Next time we shall fetch you a box.” Aragorn sassed.

“Next time what?”

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otakufrenchfries · 4 years

Text

And the light was ...

Crossover harry potter x lotr

Summary : harry potter is eldarion son of elrond

Words : 908

sorry english is not my mother language

part 2 soon

It is at dawn, when the birds sing for the first time of the day, the rivers start to flow again at the rhythm of life and with the north wind in the morning, that at the end of this seemingly so peaceful land, an even darker evil reopened its eyes.

Eyes made of gold and rage which, to the joy of many, was asleep thousands of years ago. By chance, several hundred kilometres away, a newborn baby gave its first cry, its first tears. He had just been born in a large, strange, bright and airy building, surrounded by steep mountains covered with greenery. On the side of the mountain, where waterfalls sometimes dug themselves out and crashed into large basins in the gardens. Imladris for the elves in the Sindarin language or in the common language, especially that of the men, better known as Rivendell. In one of the infirmaries he was in his mother's gentle arms and under the tender, loving and proud gaze of his father, after all he was her eldest son, whom the very young Eldarion lived and disappeared only a few years later.

31 July 1990, Earth, England, London. Totally black in this cramped space, refrigerated with its perforated blanket and for only company the spiders and their webs hanging from the ceiling which in truth could be seen as the underside of the stairs of 4 Privet Drive. For Harry, the young boy under the stairs, the days have all been the same for almost 9 years now. He lives with his Aunt Petunia, who apparently must have been the sister of his late mother, Uncle Vernon, a humanoid walrus he better not anger. But of course the worst of them all was probably his dear, tender cousin Dudley, a kind of balloon with a shiny, puffy face and whose blond hair honestly looks more like a toupee than real hair. If only they knew how much Harry would want to leave, to go far away and never come back to this family who didn't like any difference or even divergence. And unfortunately for him Harry was different, he spoke from birth a language that nobody understood, had sharper senses, a disconcerting maturity and an astonishing predisposition to care for himself and others. So Harry is never himself, he constantly hides who he is to avoid the biting anger of his fat uncle Vernon. Going back to the present, the young man who had been on gardening duty for a few hours already, had a strange feeling something was drawing him to the little garden shed in the back yard. He was moving forward step by step, silently to avoid being seen or heard and to avoid attracting the attention of the dreadful Dursley family. At last he had arrived, blowing a good blow after all the stress of getting caught could give him a heart attack. The old crumbling wooden door opened with a sinister creak, but at this stage nothing could stop Harry so he took his courage in both hands and entered. Blue and bright, the colours danced all around him, he couldn't tell whether he was falling or floating but he felt good - it was warm - something he hadn't felt with the Dursleys. Then suddenly everything turned black, oh he wasn't dead he could feel the wind whistling in his ears and the smell of grass reaching his nostrils. When he reopened his eyes images streamed into his mind like a film that was totally unknown to him and then he remembered yes yes he remembered it wasn't just any images but memories of a life, his life.

Harry or Eldarion of his memories rose up. He who was still a child of four feet a few minutes ago was now an adult of about six feet. He swung for a few seconds on his feet, not accustomed to such a height, and walked through the forest that was strangely familiar to him. where he met for his misfortune a dark, deformed creature with a dirty grey complexion who, to Eldarion's great disgust, reeked of all sorts of disgusting things. Immersed in his thoughts he did not notice the disgusting creature approached quite quickly a short rusty and blunt sword in his big black paw. "Aaaah!!!!" the humanoid being had dealt him the first blow that sliced through his torso. Eldarion looked up at his opponent as calmly as possible, although he was completely out of control, raised his arm towards the orc and pronounced clearly: "Reducto!" The beast exploded, he didn't expect it, the formula had come to him instinctively as if in another life he had used it many times. His eyesight blurred, his footsteps wavered and his wound came back to him. He was losing blood, a lot of blood, there was no one around to help him, so Eldarion closed his eyes and abandoned himself to his fate.

A few hours later...

If Eldarion was awake he would have seen two figures riding black horses coming towards him on the horizon.

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lendmyboyfriendahand · 5 years

Text

Amrodnor

Amrod was on the ships, but when he saw Feanor approaching with a torch, he jumped.

He swam to shore. He figured is his family was going to kill him, he might as well leave - the plan had been to go back to his mother, but that was no longer possible.

He ran into a group of Nandor, and joined their community.

His old names didn't fit – he’s no longer the smallest Finwe, having rejected his house. He keeps half his name, and instead of Doomed or Upwards-Exalted, he becomes Exalted-by-Fire; the burning of the ships was what gave him the strength to turn from an evil path.

It takes him a bit to decide on this, dramatic Finwean he is, and in the meantime the Nandor called him Bright Eyes, for the Treelight reflected in his gaze. He says this is a more appropriate name for a horse than a person, and they compromise on calling him Star Bright

So Amrod hangs out is southwest Beleriand, avoiding Sindar and Orcs and Noldor and Men alike for over four hundred years.

The Bragollach, the Nirnaeth; Beleriand isn't safe.

The Nandor decide to go east across the mountains. Amrod decides to see how the Noldor are doing - despite himself, he hopes his brothers are okay. He finds Nargothrond.

He says he is Rodnor Gil-Galad, called in his youth after his hair.

Orodreth doesn't recognize him - Orodreth is young, born after the division between their families was already stark. Orodreth rarely saw Amrod in Tirion, and everyone saying he looks just like Amras means the brown hair throws him.

Celebrimbor does recognize him.

"What are you doing here?" "I'm trying to avoid our family!" "I thought you were dead!" "Don't you dare tell anyone you met me!" - excerpts from the whispered confrontation in Celebrimbor's workroom

Eventually they agree that yes, Feanorians are terrible and blindly loyal, and they're both glad to be out of it.

They spend time together, a bit, more as escapees from the same cult than out of a desire to reminisce about Tirion.

Celebrimbor accidentally mentions Fingon as if they both know him in public. People ask how Gil-Galad knew him. He fumbles and says they're related. Later he slips and says Celegorm “turned out to be the family disappointment after all.” That makes him pretty obviously Finwean, though he still doesn’t admit who.

Someone tries to draw him out, and spends a whole conversation deliberately referring to Maglor Feanorian, Fingon Fingolfinion, and Finrod Finarfinion.

Rodnor eventually says, “By that manner I suppose I’m Gil-Galad Erenion.” This shuts up the first guy for a moment, but people start speculating how he can be the descendant of multiple kings – did Thingol have any other kids?

Turin arrives; Rodnor has no opinion of him or of men in general, and no official seat on Orodreth’s council. When the dragon kills Orodreth and kidnaps Findulias, Rodnor leads the survivors away to the south. He feels bad about abandoning them, but the number of soldiers they ‘d lose rescuing her is too high, and just because a life is royal (or family) doesn’t mean it’s more valuable. (Feanor burned a prince, his son, as easily as he killed fishermen.)

His opinion on royalty isn’t widely held though. The people of Nargothrond have decided he is Orodreth’s heir and started calling him Lord Erenion. He declares that Cirdan is lord of the Falas, which gets people to at least decide bring some of their issues elsewhere, and tries not to stress about the details.

So Rodnor is in charge of the Noldor in Sirion. Galadriel is in Doriath. They do meet when it falls, but only for a few hours as the Iathrim refugees settle in, and she speaks more with Cirdan than with him. He tells her of the Nandor tribe he was with and their plans for the journey, and off she goes to the East.

After the council is over and every newcomer has a bed, Rodnor goes to Celebrimbor. They mourn privately those who neither of them dare speak of publically. Rodnor is back in his own rooms long before morning. He spends the next few weeks solemn, but everyone is gloomy after news of another kinslaying.

Gondolin falls. There are suddenly a lot more Noldor in Sirion. Pretty soon they're calling him King. He considers telling them it's not true, that the succession hasn't come to him yet.

On the other hand, having a leader be whoever happens to be the son of the previous leader is kind of silly. The Sindar tribe he was with acknowledged Elwe, but not Dior. Your leader was whoever you trusted to do right by the community. When Denethor died, his son took interim authority, and then they all met and discussed it and decided that actually Enellas knew how to manage people better, and so Denethor’s son stepped down.

If Rodnor squints, this is the same. At the very least, if the Nargothrondrim hated him one of them would have proposed crowning the ten-year-old Eärendil instead. So King Gil-Galad takes up the throne.

He was on Balar when the attack came. He told himself later he couldn't have stopped it, couldn't have helped. He could guess by how much more enchantingly beautiful the Silmaril around Elwing's neck seemed, that his brothers would attack soon, but not the month or day. And she was a queen, he could not order her to hand over the jewel. So all he did was warn her, not tell her his birth name, or leap across the council table and pull it off her throat. He could not have known there was no time to wait for Eärendil’s return. He had not set a watch on the island towards the city, but he had no reason to.

He did not want to kill his brothers, but he was a king and he could not let that make his decisions.

He can't stop himself from crying when he sees Amras's body. The Feanorians had tried to make a pyre, but must have left with it still burning and the wet sea wind had extinguished it, and the wood had barely caught.

"Relight the pyres."

"Your Majesty?"

"For the dead Feanorians, relight them."

"But they're murderers! They showed no such respect to us." Indeed, the city is still littered with the corpses of Noldor, Men, and Sindar alike.

"And we are better than they are. We will bury our dead, with a week of singing and lamenting, and tales of their deeds told by friends and kin. We will mark our people’s graves, and the Men will leave grave goods on theirs. And we will not leave the enemy dead to rot where they lie or be eaten by beasts, though they showed us not that respect." He sighed. "We have not fallen as they have, and we must hold onto that."

"Yes, your majesty"

"Have someone take a census of those who are left. And lists of the dead – ours and theirs." He needs to know how strong the rogue army was. If it is now leaderless, he would... he isn't sure. He wouldn’t have to declare a feast for victory over the Kinslayers, they'd lost enough of their own. But some kind of amnesty, with reparations, if any Feanorian soldiers wanted to rejoin... He thinks of the abstract plans now, while he is unsure, because he knows he'll barely be able to keep together if Maedhros and Maglor are dead and he is alone. (Three died last time.)

His eldest brothers are not among the dead invaders.

Lady Elwing and her sons are not found, either dead or living. Gil-Galad knows that his brothers would have no interest in taking her prisoner, for if she was under their power they could rip their glorious, wonderful jewel from her neck and cast her aside like so much wrapping. So he assumes that instead Elwing got away somehow, taking her sons with her. Whether the Feanorians have the jewel or she does is unimportant, he reminds himself, at least unless she returns. He decides then that Balar will never house the Silmaril – he'll bury it beneath the mountains with his own two hands if that's what it takes. His people deserve one place, just one, that isn't destroyed around them. Please Valar, grant them this, for Cirdan's sake if for none of the Noldor.

Ships come one day out of the West. King Finarfin leads them, and Eärendil is with them. Eärendil says that his wife Elwing escaped, but not the boys. (Eärendil is politely told he must either take off the necklace, stay on his ship, or go to the mainland.)

Gil-Galad realizes where they must be. It's hardly fair, but he knows at least they're being treated as well as can be. Maedhros and Maglor did alright by the five of them, and have never been cruel to children.

No one else seems so optimistic, though they are willing to believe that the boys are alive, even after seven years, simply to avoid believing the alternative. Gil-Galad and Finarfin cooperate to get a letter and a messenger (a newly arrived Noldo) that will be demanding but – hopefully – not provoke violence.

It takes two years more, with messengers from both parties expressing grave concern for the boys’ safety on a journey and reluctant to meet the other too close, but Elros and Elrond are returned. They meet Eärendil again, but he is on the front lines and so they spend most of their time in the camp. Gil-Galad has them sit in on strategy meetings to keep them occupied.

The war is over, Morgoth is defeated, and the Noldor are allowed to return.

Gil-Galad finds he doesn’t want to.

Returning had been as much about getting out of Feanor’s shadow as finding safety, and he realizes he has done the first and the second is near at hand. If he goes back to Tirion, he will be again Pityafinwe, one of Feanor’s youngest sons, half of the twins with a missing twin. The child so redundant his own mother had known so, and asked Feanor to leave her one of the youngest without care for which. Pityafinwe had led no armies, fought no battles, earned no praise. Pityafinwe killed Teleri and was murdered by his father, and did nothing else.

Sure, he could try to be both, admit he was Pityafinwe to start with, but no one will understand. The will see him as the usurper of the crown that should have gone to – Eärendil perhaps? and then Elros? or Galadriel? Maybe they’ll weigh his victories in battle against his theft of the crown, and say they make up for it, but maybe they’ll say anyone could have done them, or he should have done them as a general in the real King’s army. So he’d be Pityafinwe, who pretended to be a king for a bit but understands now that it’s not his place, and that his place is to be the sixth-born son of the (dead, disgraced) Crown Prince.

Besides, they’re making the ‘leaders’ apologize for leaving, and Gil-Galad spent enough years wandering Beleriand safe behind Noldorin fortresses he can’t really be sorry they came.

Gil-Galad does write a letter though, to the Lady Nerdanel, his mother. He tells people that it’s commendations for her grandson’s valor, and assurance that Celebrimbor will be regarded on his own merits in the Age to come. The letter does contain those, but it also contains “You were half right about my mother-name; I was fated to die but leapt out of Fate’s way.” It’s rather blasphemous, but Gil-Galad isn’t going to be setting foot near the Valar again.

ao3

#silmarillion #amrod #Gil Galad #The Silmarillion #silm #My fic #gil galad son of plot hole #amrodnor

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blankdblank · 5 years

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Blacksmiths Daughter Pt 7

Pt 1 - Pt 2 - Pt 3 - Pt 4 - Pt 5 - Pt 6

Tags – Requested by lilith15000

All –

@himoverflowers, @theincaprincess, @aspiringtranslator, @sweeticedtea, @ggbbhehe4455, @thegreyberet, @patanghill17, @jesgisborne, @curvestrology, @alishlieb, @jogregor, @armitageadoration, @fizzyxcustard, @here2have-fun, @lilith15000, @marvels-ghost, @catthefearless, @imjusthereforthereads, @c-s-stars

Hobbit/LotR – @abiwim, @jotink78

X Thranduil - @evyiione, @sweetlytenacious25, @tigereyesf

At the side of the King’s bed the brothers stood bickering quietly after Maglor had swatted his shoulder when he caught his flick on the King’s nose. Behind them Thorin chuckled in his arm chair watching Thranduil’s nose scrunch then his head shake and a glimmer of one of his silvery blue eyes. Around him the room came into focus and the hand easing down his arm drew his eyes to your curled sleeping form inching the corner of his mouth upwards. The emptiness of his formerly fisted hand made him raise it to inspect his empty palm making his lips part at the emptiness of it.

From his armchair Thorin lowly asked, “Tingling feeling?”

When his head turned to say something his lips parted and his hand rose to inspect the object in his mouth making his brows furrow. Carefully he drew the object out feeling the eyes of Bilbo, who entered with another round of tea, the brothers and Thorin to the glowing acorn that made Maglor ask, “What was she feeding you on that picnic?”

Thranduil glanced up at him clearing his throat only drawing his attention to the painful throbbing in his unused shoulder, “What happened to my shoulder?”

Bilbo eagerly set down the tray of tea then darted out to your garden claiming a small pot of dirt he helped settle the acorn into then moved it to the table by the window by Thorin, who stated, “When Jaqi brought you back here it got dislocated when she tried to take you off Tuo’s antlers.”

Thranduil chuckled then caught sight of Legolas sliding through the doorway after Fili had rushed out to get him. Eagerly he rushed around the bed and all but dove into his father’s chest bringing a smile to the King’s face as he wrapped him in a tight hug with both arms at your body shifting onto your back, “Ada! We told her you would awaken.” Legolas glanced at you only to look back, “Maybe we could wait to wake her.”

Thranduil’s lips parted only to shut peering up at Maglor while Legolas adjusted the fur higher over you, “You have been asleep for four days.”

Thranduil, “Four days…”

Thorin, “Aerasumé has barely slept, between you and Dis going into labor last night this has been a stressful week.”

Thranduil, “Dis is in labor?”

Thorin shook his head, “Twin girls were born not three hours ago. Aerasumé helped guide her through it as she wished alongside Vili. They broke for rest an hour ago now.”

Thranduil shifted his eyes to Maedhros who stated plainly, “We should inform you of this now. We had to kill nearly half of your council.”

Thranduil’s brow rose, “Had-..?” his eyes turned to Legolas who nodded his head towards you making his head turn bringing your heavily bruised cheek with nearly healed scab from your cut with a matching scab on the split in your lip.

Legolas, “When she returned with you they tried to drag her away from you.”

Maedhros drew his eye again stating, “They struck her and tried to drag her about like some common mule for their bidding. Surely you can understand.”

Thranduil nodded then looked to Legolas who said, “There has not been any backlash. Only support in defense of Jaqi.” He rose up saying, “That reminds me, I have to go tell the kitchens you have woken. They had a big meal planned to try and get her to eat a full meal again.” Getting up he grinned at his father, “I will be back soon.”

In his absence Thranduil shifted and eased you closer to his side instantly smiling again when you curled up against his side in his arms. Maedhros again drew his eye when he stated, “You are fortunate she loves you or I would kill you myself for forcing her into an ill fated union.” Thranduil nods.

Maglor nudged him with his elbow, “We initially came to check on Aerasumé, but then we met up with Elrond and Celeborn when they caught sight of our numbers.”

Thranduil, “You brought armed forces for your visit?”

Maglor, “Not simply armed. Lindir seems to be overfilling with returned Elves, our kin have decided to leave choosing to accept only the rule of our Noldor Queen.”

Thranduil nodded, “You have told Aerasumé this?”

Maedhros, “She wished to discuss it with you.”

Thranduil chuckled in his shifting the fur over you when your arm eased tighter around his middle and his arms circled you, “Her kin will always be welcomed here.”

Maedhros, “Admirable.”

Maglor swatted him again, “Stop it.”

Maedhros, “I am certain any from Doriath would remember the last time we shared a kingdom and not be so kind as to welcome the pair of us especially so easily.”

Thranduil broke their squabble, “We all have our pasts, besides I can rest easily knowing your motivations for invading Doriath are no longer an issue.”

Thorin’s lips parted and he shifted forward in his chair, “You knew?”

Thranduil grinned at the trio, “I realized not long ago there are certain aspects of Aerasumé’s life she has yet to share with me. An explosion of power like that will eventually be explained. When she wishes me to know.”

The brother’s brows rose and Thorin chuckled stating, “Impressive choice.”

At your shifting your head to press more against his cheek he rested his head against yours with a soft sigh, “I knew she would manage the trip back safely.”

Thorin, “Next time, tackle her.” Thranduil shifted his eyes to him, “She will not take kindly to watching you fall twice.”

A crash at the window jolted you awake and you mumbled at the swan that had hit it avoiding the antlers of the waking elk rising to its feet to check on the King. In a mumble you lowly croaked, “Every time ...swans…” The shifting of Thranduil’s arms around you raised your head only to make you lean in circling his neck with your arms widening his smile and tightening his grip around you as you mumbled against his shoulder, “Duil.”

Thranduil kissed your cheek, “I knew you would make it home safely.”

Drawing back from his grip his eyes scanned over you curiously in your puzzling expression only to grin and chuckle at your swat on his arm, “Don’t you dare do that again.”

Sitting up he wiped your cheek at the stray tear, “I have no intention to. Next time I will simply tackle you.”

You nodded and another tear escaped as you said, “I will be certain to keep from planning any more surprise picnics.”

At the pain in your eyes he cupped your cheeks tenderly, “You are free to plan as many picnics as you wish. Please do not allow this to hinder your free spirit. Our borders are safe now.” He left a gentle peck on the tip of your nose, “As for what I am assuming you to be feeling, I would never believe you capable of leading me to my death. You are a terrible liar. I doubt you could withhold such a plot from me or my kin.” Gently he eased you into his arms between his curled legs holding you against his chest in your tight hug, “You are not cruel.”

The front door opened again and his eyes rose falling on Legolas and his grin with the view of Elves bearing full trays of food filed into your dining room bowing their head to their woken King. Shifting to the edge of the bed he wrapped his arms around your back and legs and rose to his feet, saying sweetly, “Now, we should get you something to eat. I hear you have not been eating.” With a peck on your forehead he led your group into the dining room where he eyed the arriving healer who moved to your side, anticipating the King’s request when hearing of his waking. A cream was gently slicked over your cheek lightening your bruise and healing the last bit of the cut on your cheek. With a weak exhausted smile you thanked her and watched as she bowed her head then left you to enjoy your meal.

When you were full Dis had taken a short walk while VIli carried the twins after her, one look at you and she pointed to the bedroom, “Bed, now.”

“But-..”

She raised a brow and Thranduil kissed your cheek again, “Get some rest Dearest. I will be here when you wake up. You need your rest.”

Thorin moved in hugging you, “We will all rest Buarndur. Now, bed.” You smirked then nodded walking back to the bedroom with Thranduil behind you as the others filed out. Though in your bed you spotted Legolas asleep on Thranduil’s side in his attempt to fix it up for your nap he himself was going to try and enforce knowing how badly you needed it. Thranduil moved to his side and eased the blankets up over Legolas then climbed over him settling between you grinning as you eased over to his side again and settled as he covered you both.

“You smiled at me.” Your words turned his head revealing your next stream of tears.

In a low purr he cupped your cheek, “It was what I wished for you to remember, you are the master of my smile. I have seen many fall, that last moment lingers for me, I wished yours to be more pleasant of me.”

He wiped away another of your tears then melted into your timid kiss that eagerly deepened for a few moments until its sudden break and your burrow against his side tightly, “I was so scared you would never wake up.”

With a grin he glanced at Legolas in his slumbering shift closer to his father. “You would not believe how strong that light of yours truly is.” Your head tilted and he grinned sharing what he had seen with you then he pointed out the silver sprout poking out of the dirt in the small pot by the window.

Four days the King had been unconscious and nearly a full day you spent resting at his side between the meals Thorin and Maglor sent ensuring you were well fed and rested. By nightfall the Elf Lords had returned and both filed into the King’s chambers curiously peeking in at you claiming another nap while a healer smoothed on another helping of creams onto your lightened bruise. Behind them an Elleth left your picnic basket and blanket on the table along the wall then eased out quietly.

Celeborn turned his attention to the King asking, “Have you gotten enough rest?”

Thranduil replied, “Yes. How are the borders?”

Celeborn, “Quite peaceful. Nothing past discarded weapons scattered around a few wagons. No sign of those pulling them but I assume that means they were wargs.”

Elrond, “It has lightened up greatly, far greener than it has been in decades.” He glanced into the bedroom again, “How is Aerasumé faring? She was dealt quite a blow when we arrived.”

Thranduil gave them a gentle smile, “I woke yesterday, we have been insisting on her eating and resting to recover from the strain my injury placed on her. The bruise has lightened greatly as well thanks to our creams.”

Elrond nodded then asked, “You have spoken with Maedhros and Maglor then?”

Thranduil, “Yes. They did share the news on the Elves arriving from Lindon. I assume more are coming past your numbers?”

Elrond nodded and Celeborn added, “They arrived in Lothlorien yesterday and are awaiting word on their Queen’s blessing.”

Thranduil chuckled, “Send word, they have it. In fact, Maglor and Maedhros have begun assigning roles in the scouting of our old keep to rebuild, it has been, suggested, by Aerasumé that they run it in her stead to aid in granting me a bit of space from their gaze over my shoulders.”

Celeborn chuckled, “No doubt warranted as they see your bond for themselves.”

Elrond grinned, “We would love to assist in the rebuild, I know just how, attentive they both can be.” Earning a grateful chuckle from Thranduil before he turned at your shifting and moved closer to recover you and sit beside you with the Lords on the armchairs nearby for a short while until they retired to their usual apartments to rest themselves.

…

Three months to the day you sat in your gardens on the swing Thranduil had promised to meet you on later after his final bout of visiting Lords greeting him upon their arrival from Lothlorien. Happily you sat with fork in hand easing another piece of pickled beets between your lips listening to Bilbo in his plans he had set with Maglor to visit Lothlorien himself to aid in choosing flowers to add to your gardens for you. His sentence ended and he refilled his own empty bowl stating, “I just cannot seem to get enough of these beets. What did you do to the soil to get them so sweet? Days like this I am glad to be a Hobbit for aiding in finishing off a fifth bowl.”

The number he had mentioned made your eyes fall to the bowl in your palm that now sat empty as you mumbled, “This is my fifth bowl…”

Tauriel on your other side rose and brought the jar of beet slices closer to you after noticing your empty bowl asking, “Would you like another?” You passed her the bowl with a distant gaze and flat expression on your face instantly worrying her when she caught it in handing you the bowl back again. “Is something wrong?”

You nod accepting the bowl and stand up carrying it towards the door saying, “I think I’m pregnant.” Her lips part watching you leave the gardens with Bilbo grinning giddily and focusing on his beets under the warm sunlight.

Hall by hall you grinned at each Elf and Elleth passing you by bowing their heads to you and continuing about their tasks gladdened to see you back to your peaceful self fully after the timid weeks of readjusting to feeling sure enough to keep your spur of the moment dashes away in your daily routines. Though it grew easier at the first claiming of your hand by Thranduil to sneak you away back to that mirror coated building you had first been led to at the Feast of Starlight. Another night of dancing under the moonlight led to a full day in bed after followed by his surprise picnic out on another secret ledge overlooking the singing falls that flowed out to the growing southern keep in the distance. Against his chest you lounged with his fingers intertwined with yours sharing far more intimate promises for your futures together than you had shared on your wedding night. No doubt you have had ample chances to conceive, and with the sudden arrival of the craving that day in bed had clearly become the culprit of your assumed condition.

At the end of your chain against your pendant you heard the tapping of the anvil bead you had forged in hopes of gifting it to Thorin when you could confirm his bloodline would endure through a child of your own. Anxiously and silently you hoped you were so you could finally hand over the long awaited symbol.

Finishing the helping of beets you entered the throne room spotting the line of Lords that was reaching its end. Instantly the King’s eyes shifted to you with a soft grin on his face at your assumed impatience on seeing him again, triggering his mental rehearsal of an excuse to free him from his later meetings to be led back up to your apartment again and back to bed to be curled tightly in your arms for however long you wished. At the base of the steps holding the throne you left your empty bowl and fork then eased up the steps to his side.

The grin on Thranduil’s face grew as he shifted his wrap granting you the space to ease over his propped up legs to rest against his side under his wrap when he moved it back again. Around you his arms folded firmly and he left a gentle kiss on your forehead between Lords and asked, “Beets?” at the scent on your breath.

You nodded and replied, “Six bowls.”

With a chuckle he nodded, “Are you still hungry?”

You nodded then wet your lips at his next chuckle as your hands folded around his on your lap, “You know, the last time Dis had beets she finished off eight bowls.”

“Did she now?” He chuckles again bowing his head to the next Lord in his welcoming statement.

You nodded adding when the Lord moved aside after Thranduil’s response, “Sort of a sign for Dwarves, to know when they are expecting.”

Thranduil’s head turns to you with parted lips that clamped shut and twisted into a wide grin at your flash of a smile. For a moment he paused taking in this moment before scooping you up in his arms making you giggle in his quick trip down the stairs as he ordered, “Have more beets brought to our chambers along with a healer.”

An Elleth nearby asked, “The Queen is ill?”

Thranduil chuckles shaking his head, “Only with child, hopefully.” Through the back winding path his lips planted on yours countless times between the start of several trails across your cheek and neck stirring a soft blush onto your cheeks between his murmured sentiments to you. Biting your lip once it was freed from the fiery kiss he claimed in his backwards entrance into your apartment you held back your giggle that had no chance in being held any longer when you spotted Legolas. Coated in leaves, twigs from his race back from his guard duty, and his wide grin beside the table bearing several jars of beets. Within moments he had folded around you both in a tight hug stirring gleeful giggles and laughs that lulled at the entrance of the healer only to pick up again with confirmation of your assumption.

Heavily the front gates to Erebor opened and welcoming cheers erupted from within at the sight of you on your first stay together out of many to come. For the long stretching main hall you passed through after exiting your wagon and walked between Thranduil and Legolas straight to Thorin and his growing smile the nearer you drew. Each step seemed to make you wish you could just shout it at him after biting back the urge to send it in a letter in the past few days since discovering it for yourself. But traditions had to be held and face to face you had to share this special news.

“Buarndur. Welcome home.”

You giggled then released your lip after a quick nip earning a curious chuckle from him, “I have a gift for you. Close your eyes.”

He chuckled again then followed your request easing his eyes shut, between your fingers you eased out the charm you had been concealing there and shifted his braided beard making his eyebrow inch up before the snap of the bead being secured at the end of it. In a peak at you he took your smile and deepening hopeful gaze as his sign to inspect your gift. Between his thick fingers he felt the rectangular bead and shifted his bears to ease his peek at it only to curiously take in the anvil shaped charm.

Instantly his eyes snapped back up to yours and he whispered, “Grandfather?” You nodded and he smiled wider turning to face the crowd, shouting, “I’m going to be a grandfather!!” In a step closer he folded his arms around you for a gleeful hug through the deafening cheers from the bouncing Dwarves and Hobbits. When he drew back your foreheads met and he rumbled, “My little Baurndur. You will be a wonderful Amad.”

Parting again you were draw in into the sea of your kin, all claiming hugs of their own as Thorin moved closer to Thranduil who let out an anxious chuckle only to be tugged into a tight hug of his own widening his smile and earning another chuckle from Thranduil.

Moving from the main hall you entered the waiting feast Thorin had pulled together in a surprise for you in return and cheers followed by the first of the toasts, through Dain’s seemed to seal the levity of the occasion as he raised his glass and called out, “May your bairns grow tall as the trees,” his eyes glimmered playfully as he added, “With beards long as the seas.” His own chuckle through yours joined those from the thousands in the ballroom after you claimed a sip of the juice in your glass folding your fingers on your free hand around Thranduil’s after his cradling it in its raising it to kiss your knuckles through an adoring smile.

#Thranduil x Reader OC #Hobbit #lotr

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lady-of-starlight · 7 years

Text

Let The Star Lead The Way - Chapter 8 - “...You’ll forgive me, if I finish it”

You find yourself unable to move as Thranduil catches you easily, lifts you off the ground and places you on the edge of the table.

“With utmost respect: You call that a kiss, my lady? Let me show you how it is truly to be done...”

You only have time to look at him in bewilderment before his lips close over yours.You try to struggle free, but he won’t allow it this time: His other arm is wrapped tightly around your waist while the other finds its way to the nape of your neck, his fingers curling there and holding your head in place as you try to turn away.

He starts slowly, but soon his kisses become deeper and more heated as his tongue brushes against your lip, clearly suggesting you to open your mouth.

Thranduil notices your resistance, you can feel him smiling against your lips as he speaks:

“You rewarded me with a bite of your delicate teeth, let me return the favor...”

Immediately, his teeth sink lightly into the soft flesh of your lower lip, and as that draws a startled gasp out of you, he takes advantage of your parted lips, with his tongue claiming yours.

Your head spins, as if you’d be drunk with a bittersweet need and warm lust that spreads from your core with every touch and kiss Thranduil places on your body. His arm tightens its grip around you, drawing you flush against his hard chest. You can’t help but spread your fingers against the front of his shirt, feeling the muscles beneath, while his lips leave yours and travel towards your throat. You shiver when his mouth pushes against your skin, moving closer to your cleavage. You feel paralyzed as his fingers come down from your neck to trail the collar of your shirt, pulling it lower to reveal more skin for his mouth to explore. When his head dips lower you let out an alarmed sound and he stops, turning his eyes on you.

“Scared, little one?”

You turn your eyes away, avoiding his gaze, which is enough of an answer. He chuckles and moves closer to your ear again, stopping to nibble the skin behind your ear before speaking:

“A small advice, if you please: Do not try to beat me in a game that I know better.”

At that, he adruptly lets go of you, forcing you to grab the edge of the table to regain your balance.

“We are done... For now.”

With a last look at your lips, Thranduil takes his jacket and starts off towards the doors, not looking back.

Your fingers rise to touch your swollen lips. What just happened?

You glide down from the table, trying to regain yours senses: Your knees still feel dangerously weak and your breath comes out in shaky bursts. As you lift your hands to cover your face, you notice the shakiness of your fingers.

That was not supposed to happen... It shouldn’t have....

Then why did it feel so good?

✽ ✽ ✽

You have no idea of how long you’ve been standing there, when someone enters the room.

“Oh, apologies, my lady. I did not expect anyone to be here anymore.”

You turn to face the speaker: Another elf lady, her ash-blonde hair gathered up with a set of wooden pins, stands in the doorway with a broom in her hands.

“No need to worry, I was just about to leave.” You do your best to smile, although your cheeks still feel half-paralyzed. “I believe we haven’t met before?”

“Most likely not. I am Erchiel.” She walks inside the room and starts sweeping right away. “You are one of the elves of Lothlórien who arrived during the attack?”

“Yes, I am”, you reply as you jump out of the way of her broom. “I assume you live here?”

“Certainly”, she says, not stopping her work for a minute. “Since the day I was born.”

She wanders towards the other end of the room, accompanied with the brushing sounds of her broom. As you’re pondering whether you should leave or not, Erchiel speaks again: “So, the King has taken it as his duty to help you with your practices?”

“Um, yes..” The mention of him threatens to make your breath stick to your throat, and you cough a bit. “He has been very helpful, I’m grateful for that.”

“He is a skillfull warrior, no need for a better teacher.”

“Truly...” You don’t know what else to say, so you fall silent.

“Well, unless my lady is planning on continuing training, I suggest you to get yourself tidied up so you can join others for lunch. It will be served in about an hour.” Erchiel speaks without turning to you.

“Oh. Well then, excuse me...” You mutter and back away from the room.

Erchiel certainly doesn’t appear like someone to befriend, no. Her voice had been almost downright hostile. The difference between her and Emlineth is quite apparent, and you can only hope that most of the Mirkwood elves fall closer to Emlineth’s persona than hers. Otherwise, this visit might possibly turn out to be even less pleasant than expected... Not that you had had any high hopes to begin with.

Sighing, you rush to your chambers, trying to silence the chaos in your head: Your mind feels like a tangled bundle of several thoughts and emotions, all trying to make themselves known at once. You grunt and rub your temples, feeling a headache approaching. Too much emotional stress always makes your head throb. Frustrated, you swing the doors to your chambers shut and start to remove your clothing.

You can only hope that Thranduil won’t be present at lunch, for you have no idea how you can ever face him again after what just happened.

✽ ✽ ✽

You make it to the dining hall just in time. You stop outside the doors to steady your breath before entering, your every nerve praying silently.

Sadly, your prayers are in vain. As you enter the room, you see Thranduil sitting at the other end of the massive, long table, calmly discussing with some of the elves seated near him. He doesn’t seemingly acknowledge your presence in any way, although you could swear his eyes follow you for a moment when you sit down to an empty chair as far from him as possible. You feel hot all over and try to keep your hands from shaking as you reach for your food, almost knocking over one of the wine goblets. You force the food down your throat in small bites and try to forget his presence, which proves to be difficult: You can see his every movement out of the corner of your eye, and every time the discussion around you calms down a bit, you can hear trails of his deep voice echoing from the other side of the room.

You lift your head when another elf enters the room: Legolas. He marches towards the King, and Thranduil rises immediatelly and leans closer to hear what Legolas has to say. As Legolas whispers into his ear, he frowns and his mouth sets into a thin line. Without a word, he waves his hand for Legolas and leads him out of the room. A few elves look after them, but continue their meal. You have no idea what might be going on, but you can only hope it’s nothing too serious.

Outside the dining hall, Thranduil and Legolas walk down the corridor, arguing silently.

“Ada. I need to go. That Gollum creature has been on the run far too long already. Lord Elrond must be informed.”

“Then why not send someone else? It doesn’t require any more than a regular messenger to bring a message, with rather ill news, to Imladris.”

“But the course of actions can be set faster while I am there, as you must stay here. Ada, be reasonable.”

Sighing, Thranduil halts. “Very well then. But you must promise me to send a message once you have arrived. The roads and paths aren’t as safe as they once were.”

“Of course.” Legolas is about to walk past his father, when Thranduil places his hand on his shoulder.

“And Legolas...”

Pale eyes meet each other, with mutual understanding shining through them. Legolas smiles a bit, and then rushes away, leaving Thranduil alone in the corridor, staring at the wall.

- End of chapter 8 -

Yay, I finally got around continuing my fanfic! Enjoy!

Erchiel = Daughter of Prickle.

Imladris = Rivendell

#thranduil #thranduil x reader #legolas #mirkwood #mirkwood elves #tolkien #tolkien fan fiction #hobbit #the hobbit #LOTR #lotr fanfic #lee pace #fanfic

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