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[archive-of-silm-fanfics]

Tears Of Love

Pairing: Nienna x fem!Reader

Summary: Nienna's crying seems different than usual, and you want to know why.

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Tears ran down Nienna's cheeks like rivers, and there seemed to be nothing that could stop them.

Now it wasn't surprising to you that she was crying, but rather how she was crying. It seemed different than usual.

Normally, she only ever had simple tears running down her cheeks while she held others and told them everything was fine. She had done this to your several times before.

But now she sat huddled in a corner and was sobbing her heart out.

Usually she cried for others, but this time it seemed like she was crying out of her own emotions, and that cause a painful tugging in your chest.

She shed so many tears every day for others and helped them on the road to recovery, she didn't deserve to be sad.

When you took a step closer, she lifted her head as if she sensed your presence. It was unusual to see her so confused and upset.

Embarrassed, you tucked some hair behind your ears and nervously smoothed out your dress. It was clear that she was a little uncomfortable with the situation.

"Lady Nienna?" you asked gently and sank to your knees next to her. A little hesitantly, you reached out a hand towards her, but then pulled it back. The truth was that you wanted to touch her, very much, but you were just an unimportant elf and she was one of the Valar. You were sure that many people must have fallen in love with her over the centuries, so your feelings were without hope anyway. "Can I help you?"

Nienna looked like she wanted to laugh for a moment, but it was lost in another sob.

She reached out her hands to your face, but was hesitant too, her fingertips danced briefly over your cheeks, her touch light as a feather, before she actually placed her warm palms on your face. You felt her warmth spread through your entire body until you were barely aware of anything but her, and how close she was to you now.

"Lady Y/N, you wonderful woman," she whispered softly and sniffled. "You are one of the best elves that I have ever met, you know that?"

You weren't sure what to say to that, because that surely was a big compliment, and coming from her, it meant even more to you.

Nienna's hands slowly sank from your cheeks and already you missed her warmth, which was so much more pleasant than any warmth you had known until that moment.

She slowly lowered herself into your side, and almost automatically you wrapped your arms around her.

"You can help me by staying for a moment. Because you're why I am crying," she whispered, hiding her face in your side.

Your hold on her tightened, although it took you a few seconds to fully understand what she had said. "Me? You're sad because of me?"

"Not sad." Nienna said softly. "I'm crying for the opportunity to have you by my side, which isn't possible for us."

"What?" You felt your heart beat faster. What had she just implied? You didn't want to jump to conclusions.

"I know more than you might think," she admitted, and as she looked up at you, a soft smile curved her lips. "I have noticed that you've developed feelings for me. And may I say that I have developed some for you, too."

"I- "You swallowed. You shouldn't be surprised that she had figured it out, after all, she was a much more powerful being than you, no, what surprised you was that she liked you too.

"You are more wonderful than you might think," she said, as if she knew exactly what was going on in your head.

"But-" you swallowed. "But if we like each other, why can't we be together? What is stopping us?"

"You should be with someone who can really be with you," she explained, sitting up a little more but still leaning into your side. "I can never bond with you the way another elf could."

"But that does not matter." You had no idea where this courage suddenly came from. "What matters is that we love each other and nothing more." Another single tear ran down Nienna's cheek. "Please."

She looked down. "I don't think so."

"Let's at least try." Your voice sounded desperate.

You didn't want to lose her like this.

"All right." she said softly, and when she looked up at you again, her cheeks were a little red. "But if at some point you would rather be with someone else- "

"Lady Nienna." You grabbed her hands and squeezed them tightly. "I love you and no one else."

She smiled and leant forward a little. Her eyes travelled to your lips. "May I?" she breathed.

You nodded excitedly.

Her lips were soft, like feathers, and she tasted kind of sweet, only that it was mixed with the salt of her tears. And you loved every minute of it, just like you loved her.

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[archive-of-silm-fanfics]

Gone And Lost Again

You had been in love with him since you were children, but now that fate threatens to take him away once more, you find the courage to say the words you never dared to reveal and hope it might spare you from the sorrow.

Requested by Anon

I would like to request a Gwindor x female elf reader story. The reader is Finduilas's younger sister who is in love with Gwindor but never confessed her feelings because her sister loved Gwindor. Until on day when Gwindor finds out.

The ending is upto you.

Thank you ☺️💖

Warnings: mentions of the Nirnaeth Arnoediad, pining, unrequited love, getting captured, mentions of Gelmir's fate, scars, a missing hand, some discrimination toward Gwindor, Turin and his bad luck, some fluff, and a confession.

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You were the youngest daughter of King Orodreth and the younger sister of Princess Finduilas. Timid in nature, but well-liked by your people. You had a good relationship with your father and sister even though things had been difficult since your mother died. Being a princess had its own challenges, which meant studying, knowing certain things about courts and politics, and being expected of things. 

It was not too bad since you were the youngest, so you had more free time than your older sister. You’re usually engrossed in reading, keeping up with the latest news, and worrying about the future.

However, the biggest challenge you could not overcome no matter what were your feelings toward someone.  

Gwindor. He was a kind and handsome elf. He and his brother had been friends with you and your sister since you were children. 

His kind and loving nature pulled you toward him like a moth to a flame, and you could not help but fall hopelessly in love with him. You even imagined yourself marrying him one day and having a family with him. However, that day never came when you grew older and he fell in love with your sister. 

You envied their relationship, especially when later they decided to get engaged. However, you could not bring yourself to hate your sister. You loved them both and since you cared for their happiness, you distanced yourself, wishing the best for their engagement and hiding your broken heart. 

It was not hard for your feelings to go unnoticed by everyone. You were a very silent person, but one did notice and that was your father. He confronted you about it and you told him about your feelings toward Gwindor. He was sharp when it came to you and your sister, so there was no point in trying to hide it from him. 

You felt heartbroken, but you were happy for the pair. Even though you might never be able to love someone else, at least they would be happy with each other. Your father encouraged you to be there, and you did support and comfort them when things got difficult and Gwindor lost his brother in the Sudden Flames.

Then the worst happened: Gwindor decided to join the battle for the north despite your father’s orders not to partake in it. Unable to let go of his brother’s loss, he went anyway, and you wished him a safe return.

However, he never returned and you later heard how the battle came to a devastating loss. Your heart broke for him and you mourned with your sister, believing he had died. It helped break the ice between you and your sister, even though you never told her of your feelings toward Gwindor. 

Many years after the battle, to your joy, Gwindor returned with a human man who called himself Agarwaen. He was scarred, had lost a hand, and his appearance had changed significantly. It would have been difficult to recognize him from his former self, but you still recognized those eyes, which still held kindness.

Joy took over your mind and heart. You even embraced him to see if he was really there. Gwindor was surprised by the gesture but returned it with a soft smile. You nearly cried when you expressed how glad you were to see him again, alive and free from Morgoth’s cruel clutches. 

Gwindor comforted you and then introduced you to his human friend. 

Your soul felt at ease to have him back home. You gladly helped him and his friend settle back in Nargothrond. His friend was odd and quiet, but he showed gratefulness for your kindness. You finally felt like things were going to be better, perhaps the Valars have finally taken pity and granted you joy by returning Gwindor from the darkness. 

However, things between Gwindor and Finduilas were never the same. You saw how she was glad to see him safe and home, but her eyes no longer held the love they once had for him. Instead, her affection was directed toward the human man who had begun to earn fame and recognition among the elves of Nargothrond.

It was not too long when she decided to end their engagement and relationship in total. 

Your heart ached for Gwindor as he seemed saddened yet did not feel anger toward his friend who had Finduilas’s heart. Even after everything and losing so much, he did not feel the slightest ounce of anger or resentment. 

You decided to try to be his comfort, especially when some people mistrusted him for his past as a thrall. You understood that some wounds caused by Angband would take time to heal, but you did not believe Gwindor to be a spy. If Angband had managed to tamper with his gentle heart, he would have been less kind toward everything— but he wasn’t. Angband had not managed to break him. 

Gwindor felt appreciation for you and your support. You two began spending more time with each other, catching up with silly conversations you used to have as children. He shared what had become of his brother, Gelmir, and you felt sorrow at the thought of his sweet brother facing such a cruel end. 

Gwindor had come to terms with his brother’s death during his time in Angband. The only thing that kept him going was the thought of returning to Nargothrond and reuniting with you and your sister.

Your heart felt warm by his conviction, and your feelings for him resurfaced the more time you spent with him. You simply wanted his smile to light up his features once more. 

You felt certain reluctance toward your feelings for him. He had loved Finduilas, and thus would never fall in love again, so what would be the point of confessing your love for him? 

However, you had your answer, when the man he came with turned out to be Turin, and he began to encourage your father and the rest of Nargothrond to go to war with Morgoth. A great bridge was built. Gwindor was against it as he knew the might of Morgoth better than anyone. However, no one would listen. 

You tried to talk to your father about it, having your own doubts about the plan. But he was also convinced of Turin’s plan. 

Then came the day when the forces of Nargothrond were to march to war with Morgoth, led by Turin and your father. And to your fear, Gwindor had also decided to join the battle despite his scars and lack of hand. 

You decided to reveal your feelings now while you still had the chance rather than keep them secret forever and possibly lose Gwindor again to the fangs of war who spared no one who happened to get caught by them. 

“Gwindor, wait!” 

The elf stopped when he heard you and turned to look at you as you approached. His armor gleamed with silver, and a helmet rested beneath his arm. It was a sight all too familiar to you, which only deepened your dread about his chances of returning home.

“Is there any way I could convince you not to go? I’m afraid this plan is too far-fetched and you and father will never return,” you explained as you caught up to him. 

“Turin is confident that we might win, and besides, even if we didn’t go to war, Glaurung would still come this way,” Gwindor answered softly. 

“And we could have been able to stay hidden if that bridge had not been built. It’s standing there like a sore thumb, a dead giveaway to our city,” you stated. 

“I mean no disrespect toward you or your friendship with Turin, but I’m afraid his hatred for Morgoth and thirst for revenge has clouded his judgment. Building the bridge has already left us bare to the world, and what shall we do if you lose this fight and we are left defenseless?” you questioned, sounding nearly desperate and devoid of hope at the thought of being attacked by Morgoth’s armies. 

“That will be left to be seen…” Gwindor said with a tone of hesitation and sorrow. There was no denying it. He was not fully convinced of the plan, and yet he could not stop himself from joining the hopeless fight. 

You thought about your feelings for him. It was no or never. 

“Gwindor, please. Do not go. I already lost you once. I do not think I can bear the pain of losing you again,” you said. 

“You know I can’t just stay behind. It would be neglectful on my part,” Gwindor answered. 

“Then hear out what I have to say, because if this might be the last time we speak, I will never be able to say it again,” you said and he listened. 

“Gwindor. I have loved you since our childhood. And I pushed myself away and never dared to put myself between you and Finduilas. If this might be the last time we talk, then I at least wish to share my feelings toward you once and for all then leave them unsaid,” you revealed, tears nearly prickling out your eyes as your heart was open to him. 

Gwindor looked at you with shock and surprise. 

“I do not expect you to return my feelings. I just wanted to tell them rather than hide them and regret never telling them,” you added, waiting for his reaction. 

“Even If I made foolish decisions and became this…” Gwindor motioned his scars and missing hand. 

“I have never been one to care about looks. You might have lost a hand or been scarred by the dark lord, but you never lost your love and kindness. I can still see in your eyes,” you said as you caressed his face. 

Gwindor leaned into your hand, placing his remaining hand on top of yours.

“To think I was this fool not to notice this..” Gwindor uttered with his eyes closed as he enjoyed the warmth of your hand that nearly felt like a gentle candle flame. 

“If I have said something earlier. Would you have perhaps accepted me?” you asked. 

“You stood by me, even when Finduilas lost her affection for me. Perhaps it has always been possible to fall in love for the second time. My answer is yes,” Gwindor answered, and for a moment, you felt your heart be lifted from the sorrow. 

Then the dreaded horn sang, indicating it was time to march. 

You two looked at each other one final time. His eyes held sorrow, yet familiar warmth as he gently took your hand away from him. 

“I must go now… If the Valars will take pity on us. They will allow us to meet again in the future,” Gwindor said and you then watched him leave. 

You did not want to let him go, but you did nothing and watched as he left with your father and his supposed human friend. You wished you could have even the smallest specks of faith or hope that winning was possible. However, fate was unkind as the dragon and his orcish armies were the ones to return. 

[archive-of-silm-fanfics]

Falling In Love Eonwe/You

Requested by @lamemaster

Heyyy ✋🏻 I miss your Elves/ Maiar reactions posts. So I wanted to request Elves/Maiar reaction to falling in love with their human s/o in all their different lifetimes🙏🏻. Feel free to plan it however you want, headcanon or one-shot 🥰🥰 I just love this concept so much it lives in my mind rent free :D

(Author note: Hey, I couldn't come up with a perfect scenario that could have added several characters with a human s/o, then I was reminded of Mairon Fallin in love, so I made another analysis like headcanon with Eonwe that goes his lifetimes of falling in love with his s/o. I hope you are okay with this one. )

Warnings: some angst, fluff, relationship stuff, mentions of the kin slaying, wars, death, Eonwe being a confused birdbrain, and hope you have the patience to read it all.

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- Eonwe gives me the impression that he would be a very devoted type, taking his role as Manwe’s herald. He would be loyal and treat you well if you somehow ended up in a relationship with him. However, he also gives me the impression that he would have no idea how relationships work, especially if you aren’t from the same race as him. 

- If you were a maiar, you two would have probably been good friends from the beginning and close in general and the thought of being in a romantic relationship had not crossed your minds. You two would give the vibe of being obliviously in love.  

- Eonwe would have been more young-minded and would probably not realize how much he likes being in your presence. 

- If you serve under the same valar, you would spend a lot of time together doing your duties. You would be each other’s loyal companions and it would be uncommon for you two to be on your own. If you serve under a different valar, Eonwe would then visit you often in the domain of your valar. 

- If you are a loyal type yourself, then you two would most likely survive through the thick and thick of the first years of Arda, and perhaps when Eonwe realizes his deep feelings for you and becomes more mature in the matter of courting, he would ask you to be his spouse, especially if you two have a strong foundation of loyalty and companionship. 

- Manwe and Varda would have most likely pushed him to confess and eventually ask you to marry him. 

- However, if you were tempted by Melkor and joined him, Eonwe would have been confused and heartbroken. He would have realized his feelings too late and be left hoping you would eventually return to the light. If you did, then he would be there to welcome you with open arms, if not, then he would only feel sadness in losing you. 

- If you were an elf, Eonwe would have some idea of how to interact with you but be very confused about his sudden rise of feelings toward you. He would worry it is appropriate for him to seek a relationship with you, and try not to step over your boundaries. 

- Eonwe would likely need a lot of reassurance, and perhaps a push from Manwe, to finally have the courage to ask to court you. 

- You will most likely have to teach him the basics and the norms in courting an elf. He would be familiar with the Vanyar, but not on deeper levels. He had likely interacted with them on official business. 

- Physical touch would most likely feel strange for him at first, but if you are patient and gentle, he would grow to like it. 

- It wouldn’t matter much to Eonwe from which elven clan you come from. He would focus more on your personality and what kind of person you are. 

- Eonwe values loyalty and a good heart in a person. He would not mind if you were slightly mischievous and caused harmless pranks, even finding some amusement in them. However, if you were a teaser type, he would be pretty shy and wouldn’t know how to interact if you kept teasing his poor heart.

- He does not appreciate evil and harm caused to others. If you were part of the Noldor and joined the kin slaying, then he would be upset and heartbroken. If not but decided to leave Aman with your people, he would understand your loyalty to your family, and patiently wait for the day when the valars would grant you mercy and allow you to return. 

- If you were a Telerin and survived the kin slaying, he would have a close experience of what losing you felt like. He would be there for you as you tried to recover from the whole ordeal. However, if you didn’t survive the kin slaying and ended up in Mandos, he would feel awful sadness and try to plead with Eru himself that you would be able to recover in the soul. 

- If you were a Vanyar. Eonwe would likely be familiar with most of your kin’s customs, having interacted with them way more than the other two clans. There is a high chance you two met at a party or by chance when he had some errands. 

- If you were a Sindar, you two would have met during the war of wrath. He would not be most familiar with Sindarin customs, but if you manage to catch feelings for each other, he would ask you to join him in Valinor at the end of the war. If you accepted, he would be ecstatic, but if you still had business in Middle Earth, he would respect your decision and wait for the day when you would finally sail to the blessed realm. 

- If you were a human, things would be slightly complicated. There could be two ways how you two could have met. 

- One, you two met during the war of wrath. Eonwe would have heard his fair share of things about humans, so he would be intrigued about you once you met. 

- If you didn’t have the most positive view of him and the valars due to their absence in the whole war, he would have difficulties befriending you. However, he would slowly understand you when he learned about all the losses and tragedies you endured. He would feel empathic and become protective of you in a way. 

- He would respect you if you were trying to contribute to the war in your own way.

- He would feel conflicted when he realized his growing feelings toward you since you were not immortal like him or the elves, and neither you nor your kind were permitted to enter the blessed realm. 

- Your time would be limited. He would do his best to ensure your safety during the war, hoping you will live through it and allow for a peaceful life. You two would probably not share anything about your feelings until the last minute when it was time to say goodbye. However, if you did not survive the war, he would silently mourn for you and perhaps feel regret for not telling you of his feelings. 

- If Eonwe decided to stay in Middle Earth for some mission Manwe bestowed upon him, and incidentally met you. You most likely end up as his guide in Middle Earth.

- He would be wearing a disguise or a form that would help him blend in with the people, so you would have no idea he was a Maiar. 

- Eonwe would learn more things about humans from you. He would still share the same conflicted feelings about his growing feelings toward you, but after some counseling and advice from old acquaintances, he may be more open-minded about it. 

- He would eventually reveal the truth about himself to you, and you will either be accepting or there was a chance you already knew about it. It would be impossible not to notice things when you’ve traveled together for some time. 

- If you two got together, you would be a happy pair, and spend as much time together as possible. 

- Eonwe would think you were adorable if you got a big fascination toward his wings and allowed you to play with them even if they were slightly sensitive. 

- Eonwe would most likely stay in Middle Earth to be with you at the end of your days. Or if you contributed to fighting evil and protecting Middle Earth, then maybe the Valars would allow you to stay in Valinor, or perhaps grant you an immortal life so you could stay with Eonwe. 

- There could be a chance becoming immortal would mean that you would be bound to the world and have the same fate as elves, but if you willingly chose that, then Eonwe would be forever devoted to you. 

[archive-of-silm-fanfics]

Mini Headcanons for Squishing their Cheeks Elves Addition + One Maia

Tags: Dramatic kisses, Squishing faces, crack?

Author's note: I already stated in my cod part of this but random nonsense is todays order lol.

Squishing and kissing Glorfindel’s cheeks.

would do the same to you. Squish your cheeks and return your kisses. The affection makes Erestor sick lol 

Squishing and kissing Lindir’s cheeks

equals red tomato. He is embarrassed but loves it. Prays Elrond isn't around and that Erestor doesn't hear of it. Eventually he does grab a hold of your hands and kisses them.

Squishing and kissing Feanor’s cheeks

would equal in Dot. Dot. Dot. Blink. Would let it happen for like five seconds if it's in his office but if you try that with him in the forges your affections will get rejected a bit rudely. But don't take it to heart the forge it his main love lol

Squishing and kissing Celebrimbor’s cheeks

Would include baby melting into your touch. Giving you his best doe eyes + heart eyes while listening to your giggles. If it's in the forge he drops everything and freezes before he gets a hold of himself. Though his first reaction is freak out and get you away from what he’s working on. Because it's hot and potentially dangerous. But after that he kisses you with the passion only a feanorian can have.

Squishing and kissing Fingon’s cheeks

he pouts cutely and after getting his lips kissed he’d grin and move to tickle your sides. 

Squishing and Kissing Eönwë cheeks

You curl your finger and gesture for the tall maia to bend down to your height. Curious he raises a brow and accommodates you. Is shocked and surprised when you squish his cheeks and begin kissing him so dramatically. He flushes red embarrassed. Might even spot a judgemental Mairon peaking over his shoulder. “My love please.” Despite his 'disapproval' he lets you do what you want. His wings melting into the floor while listening to your happy giggles.

Squishing and Kissing Finrod's Cheeks

you tug on his hair and give him a good deep kiss to entice him closer before squishing and kissing his cheeks with vigor. He laughs and squeezes your hips and lifts you into his arms to set you on his shoulder. Showing off his strength and then it's his turn to laugh as you go bright red in the face.

Overall most of them can do without their faces getting squished lol.

Masterlist

[archive-of-silm-fanfics]

Birthday delights - Finrod x gn!reader

Finrod lives up to his title of “friend of men”.

Words: 712

Tags: fluff, human!reader, mild nsfw mentions/suggestive content

A/N: a purely self-indulgent little ficlet because I’m turning 25 today and can’t believe I’m officially in my Mid-TwentiesTM now.

Finrod wasn’t called Atandil for no reason. As the friend of men, he was well-versed in the various traditions of the Edain and always delighted in participating in them. As such, it came to no one’s surprise that he took the matter of birthdays very seriously. And since you were without doubt his favourite human (he didn’t feel bad about admitting it, since Bëor had died a long time ago, at least by human standards), he put double the effort into planning the occasion.

His first idea had been to throw you a surprise party, but knowing that you hated both, parties and surprises, he had ultimately decided against it. Instead, he opted for something for only the two of you. Namely: a cosy picnic in his private gardens.

He had gone to great lengths to ensure his schedule was clear for the day, so you wouldn’t be interrupted, and had given detailed instructions to the servants to prepare all your favourite foods. A bouquet of lilies – your favourite flowers – had been procured by him personally, choosing only the most beautiful specimens.

You sat in your shared bedroom, patiently waiting for him to come fetch you. After what felt like an eternity, the door opened and Finrod entered, lighting up the entire room with his radiant smile. “Are you finally done?” you asked with a pout and Finrod nodded enthusiastically. “All is prepared, meleth, come with me.” You rose from your chair with a relieved sigh and walked towards the door, Finrod meeting you half-way to bestow another loving kiss upon you. You had honestly lost count of how many times he had kissed you today, not that it bothered you in the slightest. Kissing him was always a delight and never failed to leave you with butterflies in your stomach.

Finrod held out his arm for you to take and led you to the gardens. You let out a gasp at the sight before you. “I hope you like it,” Finrod said with a small amount of pride in his voice. “It’s lovely,” you assured. “Thank you for forgoing the party, I know you were itching to organise one,” you added quietly, making him chuckle. “You know me too well.”

The two of you sat down and you had trouble deciding which food to indulge in first. You graciously accepted the lily bouquet Finrod handed you, not being able to resist sniffing them. The Eldar truly had a way of growing the most magnificent flowers.

“How am I ever going to top this for your next Begetting Day?” you sighed and felt your chest warm at Finrod’s light-hearted laughter. “Don’t worry, I’m sure you’ll come up with something amazing, as always,” he said with a playful wink. “Sure, no pressure,” you mumbled.

When you had first learned of the Elven custom of “Begetting Day”, you had been thoroughly confused. Celebrating the day your parents had sex seemed strange to you, but then again, many things about the Eldar had seemed strange to you at first. Nonetheless, that didn’t stop you from celebrating the day with your beloved, giving the same respect to his customs he gave to yours.

Just as Finrod had hoped, you enjoyed the day to the fullest. Being the king, it wasn’t often he got to spend this much uninterrupted time with you and you two made full use of it. The air was filled with light-hearted conversation, jokes and carefree laughter. As the sun slowly began to set, you were lying on your backs on the blanket, huddled closely together. Finrod turned on his side to properly look at you and you did the same. He reached out a hand and tenderly caressed your cheek, a loving smile playing on his lips that suddenly got replaced by a suggestive smirk. You cocked an eyebrow at him, wondering what he was planning. “You know, meleth …,” he trailed off and ran his thumb along your bottom lip, “I did clean out my schedule for the entire day. There may or may not be another present waiting in our bedroom, if you want it.” It was his turn to cock an eyebrow at you. You broke out into a grin and nodded enthusiastically. “Colour me intrigued, lead the way.”

[archive-of-silm-fanfics]

Starvation - Glorfindel x Touch Starved!Reader

You look for comfort in places from which you have restricted yourself from. Glorfindel can't seem to keep his hands off you.

Warmth and softness and plush and one’s every wish, in that regard, enveloped you in the stillness of the night. You hummed and allowed the phantom fingers threading through your hair to remain inconspicuous. The lump in the duvet was not large enough to be two figures, but in your hazy state, you paid it no mind. You exhaled the shattered remnants of the festering hunger in your soul. Affection and intimacy manifested with hidden venom in gooseflesh and content sighs, but in your wake became no more than shards of ice shattering pink stained-glass windows. Colder and sharper and ever more bitter is the gentle, brushing texture of your sheets and the touch of the phantom body in your dreams–it is as cruel as sandpaper on your skin. You inhaled the frigid, biting air of the day that had been at night his warm breath on your neck. As the moon squares his shoulders to the door, unsure of how to say goodbye, the gentle, fleeting caress of his arms becomes a brutal heat that burns your very bones in the sun.

You cry out and sit up straight.

The smile drops when you awake.

It is not yet dawn, and there are only a few servants who are awake. You are not a servant, but you are among the aroused. You sigh and sit up from the dreamy comfort of your bed, the escape from the empty reality of one so loved and so alone, and you are not even consoled by carpet on your feet.

‘Really need to get a rug,’ you add to your mental to-do list, ‘I’ll do that this week.’ 

Fabric feels plush to the skin and course to the heart as you change and prepare for the day. It is simple attire: a long, comfortable open robe with a loose fitting v-neck and tight riding trousers. The council will meet today, but you doubt it will be anything of social importance; you scratch diplomatic off the list of styles you are choosing from. 

Bathor awaits you in the stables, head rearing with the rising sun.​ Trampling hooves clomp along the ground towards the south road. The aging steed has become content with paced strolls. When you pass the last boulder and ride into the open target range, however, he does not cast aside his namesake. Bathor stomps once and begins to pick up the pace; the more arrows that are loosed, the quicker he moves. At his quickest, he rears up high, seemingly planning on staying there, as you loose your final arrow. You cannot tell if you are being bitten or caressed by the wind of his movements. You love it either way. Bathor’s front hooves make a harsh impact with the ground, and in your state of bliss, you are nearly thrown off. 

“That was quite a sight,” rang a clear, honey-rich voice, “Though, perhaps if you do not revel so ignorantly in your success you will not stumble in the aftermath.” 

You sighed and dismounted, “Do not articulate it so. It is said, ‘Pride comes before  a fall.’ It is apparent your pride has not been rescued by the truth.”

Your words were harsh and honest, but Glorfindel laughed at the affection just underneath the surface of your tone.

“What ever do you mean?” Glorfindel feigned hurt as he handed you a piece of a honey cake and a cup of fruit.

“I mean, dear friend,” you said before taking a bite, “You must be blissfully unaware that we are all tired of your pedestrian, unoriginal oral disquisitions. Not to mention, you preen quite obnoxiously.”

Glorfindel huffed and watched you feed Bathor a piece of an apple, “Do not waste your breakfast; I cut that fruit just for you. And, I do not talk so much and so elaborately that it is tiresome.”

“Maybe not, but we tire of it nonetheless.”

The two of you made eye contact with one another for a long moment before laughing. You removed Bathor’s saddle blanket and spread it out for the two of you to sit on. Asfaloth and Bathor made their way to the grassier part of the field while you and Glorfindel found satisfaction in honey cakes and watching the rest of the sunrise. 

Quiet and calm was interrupted when the fabric of Glorfindel’s shirt rubbed against your bare forearm. Suddenly so many things were important that had not been: did you smell of sweat or horse from this morning? Was your hair out of place? Maybe you should have taken more care with your attire after all.

“Are you quite alright?” Glorfindel asked, sensing the tension and making it worse byt leaning towards you ever so slightly. You began to tremble, “Are you ill?”

You flinched when he began to reach up towards your forehead. He furrowed his eyebrows and backed away. He racked his mind for what could be the matter, until an idea popped up into his golden head. It was getting chillier out, and it had been particularly windy. Perhaps, he thought, you were cold. 

He did not hesitate in removing his outer robe as he voiced his concern. His worry grew when you startled at the action and stood abruptly.

“No!” you cried, “I am not cold. Though, I do think I am unwell. Perhaps I should lie down before the council meeting.”

You did not think your words through before looking up at the sky. It was well into the morning. The meeting would be starting soon.

“Nonsense, dearest,” cooed Glorfindel, “I will alert the other counselors that you are feeling under the weather. You need to stay home, and rest.”

  You sighed and averted your eyes. This was just what you had wanted to avoid. You had been absent at the past few council meetings, and some of the other members were beginning to doubt your reliability. Of course, at the end of the day, it only mattered what Lord Elrond thought; nonetheless, you did not wish for strife within the governing forces of Imladris. Embarrassed at your frenzy, you had not the will to admit to Glorfindel exactly what had your mood out od sorts. You simply nodded and mounted Bathor. Glorfindel made a mental note to return to the range and fetch your belongings after the meeting. 

__________________________________________________________________________

A warm bath was what you needed. Upon arriving at your chambers, you busied yourself in preparing the works: clean sheets, a comfortable, stylish nightgown, and a good book to envelope yourself in after your bath. You lit candles and prepared yourself a glass of wine to have after the bath. Of course, it would not wash off Glorfindel’s touch, but you could at least use a warm bath to take your mind off of it.

Or to relive it.

Gentle hands massaged fragrant soaps into your hair, tearing apart all the grime and build up from your riding sessions. Fingers threaded through your damp locks, spreading oils throughout the ends. Bubbles and suds tickled your skin, standing out from the hot water like his silk robe tickled your arm in the midst of the day’s whining wind. Droplets of water left fleeting caresses down your arms, back, chest, down your legs as you stood. It was a glorious feeling - but not quite like the real one; he did not know you that intimately - to have the touch of a friend encased in your bath water. 

The smell of the candle mingling with the taste of wine snapped you out of your daydream. It flickered on well into the afternoon, and when you were ready for a nap, you pinched it out in favor of feeling a sear on your fingertips. 

__________________________________________________________________________

Glorfindel wasn’t quite sure whether or not he should check on you.. You had had quite the outburst over something he couldn’t even perceive, and he had begun to wonder if he had done something wrong and thought that maybe he should let you have your space. His stomach growled when he finished retrieving your tack and other belongings from the range and a thought occurred to him: had you eaten supper? It was after supper time, and he did not see you about the halls or around the kitchens. You were quite the cook, so the kitchens were where you were often found at that time of day. Things seemed to be getting stranger by the minute. 

It was then, he decided, supper and a subtle wellness check for you was indeed in order. He had managed to talk one of the kitchen staff into showing him the ropes for broccoli and cheddar soup, taking into account one of your favorites. 

He made his way swiftly towards your room, steaming soup that he hoped he did a good job making and maybe a hint of some special chocolates he had acquired resting delicately on a silver tray. He knocked, and did not receive an answer. It was unlike you to lock your doors, even at night, so upon trying the knob, it silently slid upon. 

You lay on the bed, limbs sprawled about, with the last hues of the setting sun illuminating your silver-clad form.

 Glorfindel had always found you easy on the eyes, pretty, even, but had never voiced this. Yes, you were pretty, but you were intelligent and kind, and many other things. He valued those traits of you; without them, your friendship wouldn’t be what it was. It wasn’t until now that he’d had an overwhelming urge to tell you of your dashing good looks. He abstained.

“My friend? Are you asleep?” You stirred, and after a moment, you were sitting up rubbing the sleep out of your eyes. You smiled, and Glorfindel blushed lightly when you stood. It was not uncommon for the two of you to be in your nightclothes around one another, or even to undress, but the thin silk material and lace embroidery on your nightgown caught his eye in an unsettling way. He cleared his throat.

“I hope you are doing all rightl,” my friend, “I’ve been a bit worried.”

You smiled sleepily, “I am feeling better. I do not know what came over me.”

That was a lie. 

“I brought you some soup.”

“Join me,” you said as you slipped on a night robe over your nightgown, “It is a bit chilly, but we can eat at sunset. I have an opened bottle of wine.”

Glorfindel swallowed and cleared any unwelcome thoughts from his head as he followed your lace-clad figure to the bench on the balcony.

__________________________________________________________________________

“It is a relief, after all,” you said as you finished off your soup and began the chocolates, “that no one thought anything of my absence. Though, I fear if I miss any more they will believe me to have deserted them.”

Glorfindel laughed, “No, my friend. None of them mentioned it. Erestor and Lindir asked for your well-being. I simply informed them that you did not feel yourself, and that some quality rest was needed.”

You and Glorfindel sat on opposite ends of a bench, but the proximity felt unreal. His smell, his voice, his warmth – he was all-consuming. You cursed yourself for bursting the way you did that morning. You would give anything in the world to feel the brush of his robe now. Of course, he was oblivious, and kept on the small talk. You watched him from your side of the bench. 

His hair hung limply around his shoulders - the golden locks looked soft to the touch. His eyes were a mosaic of every beautiful thing that has ever graced his sight. They were radiant. His skin was porcelain and smooth, and ever so exposed. By the Valar, you wanted nothing inappropriate, but you wanted his touch like a horse wants his pasture.. He looked like he could burn you and turn you to ice in the same embrace. 

You involuntarily reach out for him. He reaches back, and when your hands meet, Glorfindel’s ears are met with a whimper. He furrows his brows and shuffles closer. You do not stop him, only make another strangled noise and revel in the proximity.

“Are you alright?” he says with his arm thrown around the back of the bench behind you, “Darling, you are flushed.”

He put the back of his hand against your cheek. When he tries to pull away, he is stopped by a grip around his wrist. You are overwhelmed: sparks shoot through your fingertips at the contact with his wrist and your heart hammers, nearly finding its way up your throat, at his hand on your cheek.

“Please,” you whisper.

He lets out a breath he’d been holding. It is a warm sigh on your face.

“Please what?”

You close your eyes and sigh, “This hunger has festered in the depths of my soul for far too long. I beg you to sate it. Be near to me.”

That is just what he does. You had never been one for physical affection, unlike himself, though he supposed that was the cause of your current state. Cautiously, Glorfindel placed a firm hand on your shoulder. Fireworks must have erupted in your chest - you gasped sharply and even threw your head back in bliss as he pulled you towards him.

Glorfindel’s worries had washed away, replaced by a mixture of pity, amusement, and something else entirely that he couldn’t quite put his finger on. He finally understood the cause of your strange actions. It wasn’t healthy for one to be so deprived of such a trivial but necessary thing. He smiled as he made a mental note to be a touch more affectionate with you. You had asked him to sate your hunger, and sate it he would. Friendly affection, after all, was his duty! Though, that wasn’t to say he didn’t plan on having a good time with it.

[archive-of-silm-fanfics]

What would the elves give you as a gift?

A/N: Hi everyone, in these headcanons I have included what I think would be the gifts that our beloved elves would give us in special situations. Remember that English is not my first language so I hope I wrote in the best way <3

Characters: Galdor, Maedhros, Glorfindel, Maglor, Celegorm

Galdor: a bouquet of flowers (I'm SURE that Galdor would be the kind of elf to give you a bouquet of fresh flowers whenever he could.)

Every day, after attending meetings in the city to discuss strategies and defense plans, Galdor would go into the woods and fields surrounding the city to pick a bouquet of fresh flowers for you. The flowers he chose were the most beautiful and colorful he could find: white lilies, red roses, wild daisies... he picked them carefully, taking care not to ruin the petals, and took them to your rooms. He would then leave them on a table next to the bed so that in the morning you could wake up with the scent of their delicate fragrances. You loved watching them as they slowly opened, revealing their beauty to the world, as if those flowers were the symbol of your love. Every morning you woke up with a smile on your face, ready to face the day with a heart full of gratitude.

And so, day after day, Galdor continued to bring you the most beautiful flowers that nature could offer, demonstrating his love and dedication in a tangible and constant way. You knew well that you were the luckiest person in the world to have the love of such a kind and caring elf.

Maedhros: a ring

After his terrible imprisonment in Angband, Maedhros was finally free among his brothers. A lot of time had passed but the pain of losing his hand still caused strong emotions in him. His heart was full of bitterness and anger for what he had suffered, but it was right there that he realized how much you meant to him. It was your voice, your stories and your support that kept him holding on to hope during the long years of imprisonment but also the only person to help him differentiate the dream from reality when darkness took over his mind and everyone feared him. So he decided he needed to give you something special. He spent days thinking about what he could do to you, until he had an epiphany. He went to a small workshop where, as a child, his father had taught him the basics of the goldsmith's trade. With an expert but somewhat rusty hand, Maedhros began to carefully work a ring. Every time his hand trembled from fatigue, the thought of your smile gave him the strength to carry on. Finally, after days of intense work, the gift was ready. (…)

The setting sun painted the sky with orange tones, while you and your elf admired the sunset from the window of your rooms. “For you,” he said, handing you a small box. You opened the little package. It was an elegant and simple ring, with a bright red stone of the color of his hair, a little imperfect but full of meaning. “It's wonderful,” you whispered. “But why are you giving me this?” you asked, unable to understand what the event was. "Because you were the light that guided me out of the darkness of Angband," he replied in a soft voice. "Without you, I don't know if I would have ever found the strength to continue." You felt your heart ache at Maedhros' words and his vulnerability. "I hope it brings you some joy and light, like you did for me.”

Glorfindel: a picnic

Glorfindel was a kind and thoughtful elf, always caring to the needs and wishes of his loved ones, and when your birthday arrived, he decided to plan something special to celebrate the occasion. That morning he asked you to meet in a small courtyard on the edge of the city of Gondolin where you used to meet and, once you arrived, he made you turn around telling that he had to blindfold you because he had to take you somewhere. A little confused but also excited by the idea, you accepted. “Don't worry, I'll guide you.” He took your hand and you walked away. (…)

After walking for a while, you felt the sensation of grass under your feet and the sound of leaves blowing in the wind. “Well, we have arrived.” The blond removed the blindfold from your eyes and when you opened them again, you couldn't believe your eyes. You were in a beautiful flowery meadow not far from the city walls, at the foot of a large oak tree that provided shelter from the hot sunlight. There, among the chirping of birds and the sweet scent of wild herbs, sat a picnic basket. Glorfindel opened a large cloth and began to bring out countless delicacies. There were fresh fruits, pastries, delicate cheeses and crusty breads, along with a variety of delicious desserts and refreshing drinks. Throughout the day you laughed and joked, enjoying the tranquility of nature and all the beauty it had to offer, and as the sun slowly set over the horizon, Glorfindel looked into your eyes and said something perhaps even better than the picnic: “Seeing your smile among this beautiful scenery today made me realize that I can never want anything more in life. There is a question burning inside me and I can no longer remain silent... Do you want to become my wife and make this elf happy for eternity?".

Maglor: a poetry

The wind blew hard that evening on the shores of the rough sea, while you and Maglor sat on a rock watching the waves crash violently against the rocks. The air was charged with electricity, a harbinger of an impending storm. Suddenly you heard your name being called from the elf and when you turned you saw him take a note from his jacket pocket. “Here, I wrote this for you.” You opened it and saw that it contained a poem written in elegant script. The words seemed to pay homage to the sea, speaking of its power and beauty, but you understood that those words were addressed to you. You looked at Maglor with tears in your eyes, touched and speechless. He smiled sweetly at you and said: "This is my gift to you, so that you can always have the sea in your heart and the beauty of its mysteries to accompany you wherever you go." And it was in that moment, between the roar of the waves and the salty smell of the air, that you understood how similar the sea and Maglor were, both capable of enchanting you with their strength and captivating you with their beauty. And in that moment, you understood that you had found someone who would leave an indelible mark on your life, like the sea that leaves its scent on your skin even when far away.

Celegorm: a wolf cub

It was your birthday and Celegorm had done nothing for you. You were disappointed, you thought your beloved didn't even care about your birthday. But Celegorm had a special gift in mind for you, he just had to wait for the right time to give it to you.

When evening finally arrived, Celegorm took your hand and led you towards a terrace. When you got there, you couldn't believe your eyes: In the middle of the terrace there was a brown wolf cub, with sparkling eyes and a playful attitude. “I know I didn't do anything for your birthday, but I wanted to give you something special. He's an Oromë cub… he's like Huan. He will protect you and keep you company in difficult times.”, Celegorm said softly. You were speechless, it was the most incredible gift you could imagine. You ran towards the wolf cub who immediately started licking your face as a sign of affection. "Even if i had to travel a long way to bring him to you, if you don't want him I can bring him back." "ABSOLUTELY NOT" you replied anxiously and this made Celegorm laugh heartily. "Oh, so you want to hold him close to you, huh?" he said jokingly afterwards teasing you. Then, with an affectionate smile, he approached you and whispered in your ear: “Don't worry, I would never let him be taken away from you.” With a sweet kiss on your forehead, he hugged you warmly, making you feel safe and loved.

[archive-of-silm-fanfics]

You said to send short asks, is it OK if for me to request a short ask about glorfindel and a female s/o relationship headcannons?

Totally cool if you don't!

Anon this is the very first ask I get for a Tolkien character x reader HC! *gasp* Thank you, whoever you are.

All right, this is with Third-Age-Glorfindel in mind...

CW: ever so slightly suggestive

Despite being well loved for reasons too many to count, Glorfindel warms up slowly to others on a personal level. When he does, the depth of his affection is boundless.

He often feels the burdening of Ages but hides it well beneath his mild disposition and a carefree outlook. With you in his life, it comes as a surprise that he resorts to that way of coping less and less.

He'll say, resting with you on a warm afternoon somewhere at the top of the valley, gazing at Rivendell from afar: "You... you are kindling." And he'll press your palm to his heart, so you understand.

When he returns from patrols in the wilderness, he will always get the bathing and changing over with as fast as he can, just so he can crawl into bed next to you. He'll rest with his head against your chest, sighing and tangling his legs with yours. The tightness of his hold is an expression of how much he missed this, sleepily murmuring words that send you into a fever.

And then he falls asleep.

The beautiful bastard.

When a full day of training, diplomacy or whatever else is done, you'll sometimes take refuge in your chambers; you adore the way his gaze mellows at the sight of you when Glorfindel joins, his dimpled smile a warming balm. If you're reading in an armchair, he'll shrug off his outer robe and plop down by your feet in nothing but his simple undertunic and leggings, hugging your legs and pressing his forehead against your clothed knees.

He knows you won't last long before you set the book aside, loves how you enjoy playing with that bright, silky hair of his. You hear low, contented sighs when your fingers tangle and bury themselves in his strands; he'll rub his cheek against your thigh in a languid, feline manner, smiling and breathing slowly to unwind.

He makes no great deal of it, but Glorfindel has a wonderful singing voice; he'll hum old Valinorean tunes for you in the mornings or during treks together through the surrounding woods, happily explaining their meaning and origin (some are satire, which makes it irreverently fun)

Glorfindel is a living flame. It's as though he was reembodied with powers and affinities especially designed to defy the manner of his untimely, traumatizing death. He has no nightmares of fire: he is one with it, now. His spiritual power vibrates against you in silver and gold, sending your nerves sizzling and your spirit in a swoon.

Even his body temperature rises to surprising intensity in certain special moments: you've come to crave that undulating warmth beneath his skin.

And oh, he's more than eager to oblige.

You were delighted to find that Glorfindel, Lord Glorfindel the warrior, actually can employ the finest of charms when he wants to (and is a horrible tease besides).

For all the positions of authority he's held throughout the centuries, this Elf simply loves it when you take the lead; sometimes even begs it of you. When you straddle him as he lies on his back, giggling and biting his lip at the pleasant weight of your body. When you pin him down by the wrists, look him in the eye and pant out your demands, telling him exactly what you need and where you need it.

He can tell, anyway, he always checks with you in thought.

He just loves hearing you say it.

Or moan it.

Sometimes, when he's exhausted or lost in you, he'll slip into Quenya, forgetting you don't understand a word of his mother tongue. But the sound of it is so alluring, so indescribably beautiful (especially in his voice), that you nearly moan from the mere whisper of it in your ear.

You've only ever experienced Glorfindel drunk once, on an occasion commemorating the old Gates of Summer festival. He was quiet that day, distant, barring your thought when you tried reaching him and often disappearing from sight, away from the others. You gave him space, and halfway through the silent watch of the night, left for rest.

No sooner did you change and was standing at the side of the bed than he appeared, closing the doors behind him and leaning against them, his gaze flickering with golden sparks in the dark. His step wavered only once as he slowly moved towards you, but you knew. You waited, looked on as he reached you, pressing one large palm to your chest and pushing so you fell onto the soft bed; you tasted hot wine on his tongue, understood, and held him tightly as he took frantic refuge into you.

[archive-of-silm-fanfics]

Tradition - Caranthir x Reader (Pt. 1)

The fourth son of Fëanor, more often than not, retired early on the Day of the Lamps, and didn't even stay to watch the lanterns set out. Caranthir never cared much for the holidays. You, on the other hand, have missed celebrating dearly since you left your home in Alqualondë, and that might just be enough to change Caranthir's mind.

Caranthir at first couldn’t say whether he was glad or dismayed when he found out your visit to Tirion from Alqualonde was going to be permanent. You were not staying a great distance away from the Fëanorion estate, after all, and he wasn’t sure how having an outsider such as yourself so close to his family would turn out. His parents weren’t known to warm so easily to someone. To his surprise, they were both taken with quickly. Nerdanel had taken an instant liking to you - almost as if you were a daughter that she never had. To everyone’s surprise, Fëanor himself had as well - the temperamental, standoffish crown prince of the Noldor had, in fact, warmed up to the Telerin visitor. Caranthir had to admit, he had more than taken a liking to you, too. The faeish beauty you sported was undeniable, what with your flowing gowns and buoyant smile and starry eyes. Your kind nature only amplified it. It would be a lie to say that Caranthir Fëanorion hadn’t been smitten with you upon your very first meeting. 

This reached far beyond your very first meeting, of course. In fact, the more time you spent around the Feanorian estate, the stronger his feelings grew. 

Nerdanel was the first to notice. Yule-tide gifts from her sons had been few and far between, coming only from her eldest two and her very youngest, who was so thoughtful as to write his twin’s name on the wrapping paper and tell his mother that it was from them both; she was not so naive. Gifts from Caranthir were unheard of; and had Nerdanel not had her harsh bringing up in the house of Mahtan and her marriage to Fëanor to callous her from disquiet over who smiles at who and the likes she would have been hurt, what that her beloved freckled-faced son was giving gifts to someone but not to her, his mother. She pried as subtly as she could, and though Caranthir seemed to have caught on to her intentions after the fourth, ‘That gift must be for someone very important,’ she had already had an inkling for what was going on. 

The rest of the family followed soon after, and Caranthir finally came to terms with it after the incessant teasing of his brothers. Not to mention, he had a sneaky suspicion that Maglor had told everyone about it when he finally admitted it to the minstrel. They would have known anyways - with his yearning expressions and whatnot. It was quite obvious that Caranthir deliberately went out of his way to see you. His want was apparent. He might as well have written it on his forehead.

One could even go so far as to say Caranthir loved you. 

It was something he begrudged, and the unbearable bitter-sweet yearning for you only grew stronger with each click his boots made against the stone floor on the way to his brother's room. He knew you cared for him, that much was evident. You were kind, and carried yourself with charm and poise, but there was something about the prominent blush that plastered your cheeks that told Caranthir there was something else hidden behind the veil of your dreamy eyes - something warmly inviting yet utterly untouchable. Maybe, thought Caranthir, after battling his reluctance to ask for anyone’s help that had festered in him for two days now, Celegorm would know what to do. 

He slowed as he got closer to Celegorm’s room, but his steps were no less deliberate. When he finally reached his destination, he didn’t even need to knock before Celegorm knew he was there.

“‘S open!” 

Caranthir pushed the door open a bit too harshly and stepped inside. He said nothing.

“Well?” said Celegorm with raised eyebrows, “What?”

“What do you know about the day of the lamps?”

Celegorm scoffed, “No more than you do. We celebrate it every year.”

“No,” said Caranthir, “How we do it.”

“Yeah. How we do it - we put the lamps in the baskets, and set them off to fly.”

Caranthir huffed, “Yes, that’s how we do it. How do the Teleri do it?”

Celegorm paused before he stood up with a wolfish grin, “So that’s what this is about?”

“Answer the question.”

“I am beginning to wonder if I should warn her of the dangers of being your little muse. Should I tell her that Caranthir the Dark lurking awaits her here in our fathers house?” 

Caranthir crossed his arms, regretting his decision to come here for help but unable to make himself leave, “She is not my muse, and there is no danger for her. Answer the question.”

“I don’t really know,” said Celegorm, “She said they do pretty much the same thing, but they set theirs out on the sea.” 

“I know that,” replied Caranthir bitterly, “but what do they put them out with? It’s some kind of plant.”

“I don’t kn-” 

“Where does it- where can I find it?”

Celegorm’s eyes inflated in irritation and he stood, “I don’t know what kind of plant it is. Ask Finrod. His mother’s Telerin.”

Caranthir let out a sharp breath in frustration. It was annoying enough to have to ask Celegorm, he didn’t want to ask his cousin. The longer he contemplated, the more he liked the idea of abandoning the gesture he’d had planned all-together. It probably wouldn’t do him any good, anyways. 

“You want me to ask him for you,” said Celegorm, “Fine. That’s fine.” 

“I never said that.”

“Yeah, well, I’ve about had it with your constant pining,” huffed Celegorm, “I’l just do it my dams se-”

“Pining?” said Caranthir, “The hell do you mean pining?”

“Don’t stand there and pretend you don’t know damn well what I mean - and now look, you can’t even ask Finrod about one simple thing! How the hell are you gonna-”

“Whatever,” cut in Caranthir, pivoting on his heel. Though Caranthir loved his family like his mother always instructed him, he wasn’t particularly fond of Finrod. The last time he had seen Finrod was at the Mereth Nuin Giliath - standing next to you with a wine glass in hand, blushes covering both of your faces and your lips stained faintly red. Caranthir was supposed to be the one laughing and blushing and drinking with you, not Finrod, no matter how pretty he was. 

Caranthir shook those thoughts from his head and picked up the pace as he made his way to the dining hall, frustration still evident. The day of the lamps was in eight days, and he still had no idea how to set his plan into action. He supposed, you were coming for dinner tonight, he could ask you yourself. He quickly shut that idea down. If he was going to do this, it needed to be a surprise. 

Upon exiting the residential hall of the Feanorian estate, Caranthir’s ears picked up loud rustling and whispered curses. They had just hired a new gardener, a stout fellow with strong arms but no sense between his ears. Caranthir supposed it was just the old goon making the ruckus, until he remembered it was dinner time already and the whispers began to sound more and more familiar.

The noise grew panicked as Caranthir made his way over to the source. When he was close enough, he pulled the foliage of the shrubs away to reveal none other than his silver-haired brother.

“Celegorm,” he said, “What are you doing?”

“It’s none of your concern.”

Caranthir looked down to the satchel in Celegorm’s arms, “You’ve been stealing wetsto-”

“Shh,” exclaimed Celegorm in a sorry excuse for a whisper, “Someone will he-.”

“Yeah someone’s gonna hear! You shouldn’t be taking those. Didn’t you get caught doing it before?”

“Look, I just really needed them, and the shops were all closed. Just don’t tell anyone, and I’ll pay for them tomorrow. Please, just keep this a secret. I’ll do anything.”

Caranthir raised his eyebrows, and Celegorm knew exactly what he wanted. 

“Fine.” 

The third and middle-most sons of Feanor made their way towards the dining hall, Moryo the Dark’s shoulders straightened a bit more than they had been before he was owed a favor from his older brother. The smell of broiled quail in Nerdanel’s sweet lemon sauce wafted through the air. A mixture of voices - yours and Maglor’s - echoed a sweet tune about the estate. The two shared a glance before entering. 

You stood in the kitchen with Nerdanel offering help, but she denied it. It was no lie that you couldn’t cook, but it was something you didn’t really resent and accepted with good humor. You stopped when the door opened. The blush that spread across your cheeks was too prominent to miss, and Caranthir couldn’t stop the pride that swelled up in his chest. Everyone knew you were blushing because of him.

There was no denying that you thought he was a good-looking man. He was tall and lean with broad shoulders, and those gray eyes of his never failed to make your heart stutter. It came as a surprise to everyone who knew the both of you that you, being so friendly and lively and charismatic, were attracted to the stoic prince of the Noldor. 

Deep down, your liking to Caranthir was one of the driving forces that had you moving to Tirion in the first place.

“Hello, Celegorm,” you said, and a new star seemed to shine in your eyes when you turned to his brother, “Caranthir.”

“It’s good to see you,” he said, before embracing his mother and taking a seat.

You blushed even deeper and smiled in his direction. You missed the amused look shared between Nerdanel and her eldest son.

“I’m glad you’ve joined us, osellë,” said Maedhros warmly.

“I’m glad too,” you replied, “I have been so busy lately: I have received so many letters all at once from Alqualonde. They are asking if I am visiting for the Day of the Lamps.”

Caranthir’s breath hitched. If you went home for the holiday, his plan would never come to life. The silence that lingered in the air before his eldest brother spoke again seemed like an eternity.

“Are you?”

“No,” you replied, rather abruptly, “All my close family has gone back to Beleriand with the Sindar, and the few of my family remaining in Valinor are distant. I do not know them well. I was hoping I could celebrate it with you all like I did last year.”

Caranthir’s heart leaped.

“Of course,” said Nerdanel, “You are welcome here anytime. You should know that well enough by now.”

You smiled.

“That reminds me,” said Celegorm, “What are the flowers that you used to set out each year at Alqualonde? Finrod told me about them once, but I can’t remember.” 

“We use a mixture of things - hydrangeas, and lots of morning glories.”

Celegorm’s eyes lit up with recognition, “Oh, we’ve lots of morning glories, but I have searched far and wide for hydrangeas, and I cannot find them anywhere but the shores of Alqualonde.”

“Really?” you said, “Not even the shores directly east?”

Celegorm shook his head. 

“We made wreaths with them and put them around our lamps and set them out to sea. I did miss it; perhaps this year I will celebrate it in the bathtub!”

Celegorm’s eyebrow twitched - See? I gave you what you wanted. - as he peaked up at Caranthir. Caranthir did not look up from his plate, only pursed his lips and took another bite. Celegorm knew another word would not be said from his younger brother - that look was one of contemplation, and it would not soon be worn off once Caranthir was fixated.

“That is an odd way to reminisce about the past,” said Nerdanel, and you laughed.

The rest of dinner went much this way. Small talk floated about the Fëanorian dining room with the occasional brotherly dispute. Though most of the company fellowshipped late into the night, Caranthir, much to your dismay, retired to bed rather early in. He was preparing for an early start the next day. The trip to Alqualonde wouldn’t make itself, and eight days was hardly enough time to make it there and back to Tirion.

[archive-of-silm-fanfics]

Being married to Aredhel hc

Pairing: Aredhel x Reader

Warnings: mentiones of sexual content, vague mentiones of Eöl (He isn't directly mentioned, but I thought I'd better warn you)

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

Before middle-earth:

♡ Is flirtatious even after you are already married and your fëa are connected

♡ Just can't stop pretending she's trying to seduce you again, knowing full well that you'll never be able to resist her

♡ Always got up early before your wedding, but likes to stay late afterwards to enjoy your warmth and cuddle you before the day starts

Spends as much time with you as possible, even skipping hunting trips with Celegorm to do so

♡ When you ride somewhere, no matter how short the distance, she makes sure you're on a horse together

♡ She then presses herself firmly against your back and her hands wander all over your body while she buries her face in your hair and breathes in your scent deeply

♡ Always dances exuberantly with you on the dance floor at balls and makes all the other couples look old

♡ Likes to show you off and brag how pretty you are in front of her brothers

♡ If you put on one of her dresses, or even her hunting clothes, she'll get all weak in the knees and fulfil your every wish

♡ She brings you a stone every time she hunts in the forest

♡ They're not gemstones, just ordinary stones in nice shapes and colours (if she does find a gemstone, she'll bring you that one too, of course), Aredhel always says they're nothing special, she just wants to gift you something, but you treasure them all and put them on every windowsill and cupboard in your shared home

After middle-earth:

♡ Meeting and marrying Aredhel after middle-earth would be different

♡ Aredhel needs a long time to even imagine getting married again, because her scars from Middle-earth will probably never heal again

♡ Fell in love with you because of your kindness, something she missed a lot in her previous marriage

♡ Whenever you touch her gently, she just melts away, she longs for the gentle touch of someone who actually cares about her

♡ Imagined what it would be like to marry you for a long time, but thinks you deserve better

♡ She's convinced she's already too broken and undeserving to be anywhere near good enough for you

♡ When you find out, you're heartbroken, but a long, emotional conversation brings you to the conclusion that you feel the same way about each other

♡ Would also really enjoy cuddling with you after the wedding, but not just in the mornings, but almost all the time

♡ Wants to be close to you especially when she's sad or thinking too much about the events in middle-earth

♡ She often tells you how much she loves that she can trust you so much

♡ Never goes into the forest for more than a few hours, and never alone, because only when you sleep next to her and she feels your warmth does she not have nightmares

♡ Introduces you to Lómion when he is let out of the halls and is very nervous, because she is afraid that two of the most important people in her life might not like each other

♡ But you get on well, and slowly Aredhel manages to get more used to her new life in freedom and full of love

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

[archive-of-silm-fanfics]

Office shenanigans - Fingon x f!reader (NSFW)

Minors proceed at your own risk.

After some consideration, you decide to indulge in one of Fingon's newly discovered fantasies.

Words: 1.5k

Tags: smut, semi-public sex, clothed sex, Finwë’s office gets desecrated rip

A/N: soooo, yeah. Have some finno smut, that’s rly all I have to say.

You watched Findekáno fondly as he stood on the other side of the room, next to his father and grandfather, talking in his usual animated way and drawing laughter even from people not directly involved in the conversation. His open-minded personality and ability to strike up friendly conversation with just about anyone (naturally, that was exactly how you had first met him) were some of the things that had drawn you to him initially and even after being with him for some time now, you never tired of watching him in his element.

You fidgeted your fingers, pondering if you should really go through with your plan. It was certainly risky, but it might be worth it for the experience. Findekáno had confessed his intrigue about engaging in intimate acts outside of the house some time ago and although apprehensive at first, you had to admit that it had started to pique your interest as well. You trusted him without a shadow of doubt and knew that should he agree to the proposition, he would willingly deal with any consequences, should you get caught.

Gathering up your courage, you walked over and tapped Findekáno’s shoulder, making him pause his story and turn to you with a bright smile. “You’ve come at the right time, melda, I was just telling them about-“ “There’s something I wanted to talk to you about. In private.” You looked at him intently while he was trying to figure out if he was in trouble or not. “It’s an urgent matter,” you pressed, and albeit a little confused, he nodded, excusing himself from the conversation to follow you.

You led him straight into an empty hallway. “What is it you wanted to talk about?” “Your grandfather’s office is here somewhere, isn’t it?” He raised an eyebrow in confusion. “It is, why do you ask?” “Do you remember our little conversation a while back? Where you expressed interest in some quite indecent acts?” It didn’t take him long to figure out what you were talking about. “Why, yes, I do,” he said with a sly smirk which you couldn’t help but mirror. You stepped closer to him and slowly ran your hands across the expensive blue fabric covering his chest before going to stand on the tips of your toes to whisper in his ear; “I have to admit, the idea has grown on me. What do you say we give it a try?” He stared at you for a moment, seemingly not entirely sure whether you were serious or not, and when you cocked an eyebrow at him, the biggest grin broke out on his face. “A most delightful suggestion that I shall gladly agree to.”

He took your hand without hesitating and led you along the many ornate wooden doors until he stopped in front of one that evidently had received extra care when it came to attention to detail. King Finwë’s office. A hint of doubt spread through you as Findekáno opened the luckily unlocked door and the two of you stepped inside, securely closing the door behind you. The king was generally a very well organised person, so it came to no surprise that his office was always kept in pristine condition, the stacks of paperwork on his imposing mahogany desk neatly stacked. Rows of bookshelves lined the walls, a small seating area was set aside for more informal discussions.

You swallowed. Was this really a good idea? Should you have suggested a different location? Should you even have suggested this at all? Findekáno seemed to sense your nerves and brought your hands to his lips to kiss your knuckles gently. “We don’t have to if you don’t want to. I don’t want you to be uncomfortable just for my sake.” You shook your head and smiled, recalling your earlier reasoning. “No, I want to do this. Maybe you can think of something to help me ease into it?” You wiggled your eyebrows suggestively to which he bit his lip and leaned down to you. “I do have a few ideas,” he whispered and wrapped his arms around your waist before kissing you passionately.

You sighed into the kiss and wanted to reach up to tangle your hands in his hair but stopped yourself. The two of you still had to look somewhat presentable, after all, so you settled for cradling his face. His tongue poked at your lips and you more than happily granted him entry. Findekáno’s kisses were always intoxicating, but today was different. Maybe it was the adrenaline coursing through you at the knowledge of what you were about to do. Today, his kisses had a downright addictive quality to them and in that moment, you didn’t know how you would survive not feeling his lips on yours anymore. He was evidently just as affected as you were, judging by the hardness you could begin to feel pressing against your thigh. You brought a hand down to stroke his erection through his pants, the subtle groan he let out sending a shiver down your spine and making wetness begin to pool in your panties.

He straightened up, much to your dismay, and let his eyes wander around the room, landing on one of the sofas his grandfather kept in his opulent office. He looked back at you and nodded towards the sofa with a questioning expression. You considered for a moment before nodding in agreement. It was certainly the most comfortable place, and you weren’t quite brave enough to suggest he take you on the desk. You weren’t the valiant one, after all. Following him across the office, you watched as Findekáno shuffled down his pants and underwear, so they sat lower on his thighs, sighing as his erection was finally freed from its confines, and pulled you closer to sit on his lap.

You exchanged a heated look before he pushed your soaked panties aside and slid two fingers into your pussy with ease, drawing them in and out slowly, his thumb moving to draw patterns on your clit. The breathy gasps you let out were music to his ears. His other hand came up to fondle a breast, managing to tease the nipple through the fabric of your dress. “Well, you seem to be enjoying this just as much I did,” he teased with a smirk. You wanted to give a sassy reply but the pleasure coursing through you didn’t permit it. “Please, just take me finally,” you whispered instead, knowing that you couldn’t stay away from the gathering forever and you would have to hurry this up a little.

Findekáno was more than happy to fulfil your request. Both of you had to stifle a moan as his cock entered you, using each other’s lips to drown it. He started moving without giving you much time to adjust, too enamoured with the tight grip your pussy had on him. You buried your face in his neck to muffle the whimpers escaping you. He leaned his head on yours, clenching his jaw to keep quiet, only breathing heavily through his nose.

Maybe it was the heated atmosphere, maybe it was the knowledge of how scandalous your actions were, but it didn’t take either of you long to approach your climax. Findekáno's thrusts faltered as your pussy was basically suffocating him. Your toes curled and your nails dug into his shoulders, barely able to suppress a high-pitched squeal as intense waves of pleasure washed over you. He followed shortly after, letting out a throaty groan and flooding your insides with his warm release. Afterwards, the office was quiet, except for both of your laboured breaths as you came down from your highs, savouring the moment.

“You always fuck me so good,” you sighed, making him huff at the praise. “Please don’t say things like that. We don’t have time for another round,” he replied and threw you a suffering look that made you laugh. “Forgive me, melda. I’ll save my comments for when we’re home and have more time on our hands.”

You rose from his lap, already missing the feeling of being connected. You could feel his cum slowly trickling out of you and gathering in your panties, making part of you cringe a little. An aura of elation radiated from Findekáno as he stood up and tucked himself back into his pants. He came closer to you and leaned down to press a sweet kiss to your lips and tuck an errant strand of hair behind your ear. “Thank you,” he said, looking at you adoringly. “You didn’t have to do this. I really appreciate it.” You bit your bottom lip. “Maybe we can repeat this another day.” Findekáno beamed at you. “I won’t say no to that.”

You couldn’t deny the rush of excitement as the two of you snuck back to the gathering, knowing that (hopefully) no one would be aware of what you had gotten up to, and judging by how tightly Findekáno was gripping your hand, he felt the same.

[archive-of-silm-fanfics]

Tradition - Caranthir x Reader (Pt. 2)

Both you and Caranthir reeked of anticipation for the evening to come.

A/N: this piece by @mandhos was the inspiration for the way the Day of the Lamps is celebrated :)

When you received the letter a week before, you were beyond excited to spend the day with the fourth son of Fëanor, and your giddiness only continued to climb. You had made haste to the tailors and had splurged on a new dress and new home decorations that ever so subtly coordinated when you had finally finalized your plans with Caranthir. Your brother had always ridiculed you for your strange obsession - avidly decorating for holidays such as the Day of the Lamps. That was why you couldn’t stop the triumphant grin that plastered itself on its face when you finished placing the last garland. If only Eäner could see this! You had to admit, you were a bit hesitant to accept Caranthir’s proposal to spend time with him during the holidays, seeing as most people did it with their families, but decorating your home seemed to help lighten your spirits, and even excite you even more. 

It wasn’t as if you were setting off your lamps with your family, anyways. 

You set out the candles and began to warm up the stove before jumping in the bath. It was still quite early, but you wanted to look your best, and to be prepared. The last thing you needed was for Caranthir to come to your home as a guest and find you still undressed and dinner not ready!

Caranthir rocked from side to side on horseback as he made his way to your home. His nerves had been in a knot all morning (he was nearly late getting back to Tirion, and he wasn’t entirely sure he got the right flowers while on his trip), and he could only hope that his distress wasn’t visible on his face. The stable hand greeted him, rather casually, noted Caranthir, and tended to his horse before Caranthir gave him specific instructions for later and approached the door to your home.

He didn’t even have the chance to knock before it was pushed open gently in his direction. The light of the chandelier peaked out of your doorway, but even enveloping you in its golden glow it couldn’t have made you look more ethereal. Caranthir suppressed the shudder that threatened him as his eyes not-so-subtly raked over the blue silk that hugged your figure. The sound of your voice tore his gaze away from the golden belt at your hips. 

“Hello, Caranthir,” you said, smiling and stepping aside to let him in, “I have just finished dinner - I hope it is to your liking. You know, I am not much of a cook.”

He chuckled, nerves alight, and probably his face alight, too. The smell of the earl gray tea brewing was potent, and he could only hope that it would keep his mind clear. He really didn’t want to mess this up.

“What have you got in that package?” you asked.

Caranthir looked down at the package in his hands like he had forgotten it was there. He took a deep breath as his eyes were still downcast and mustered up every ounce of confidence he had in him. He was going to need it.

“Don’t ask so many questions,” he said, smiling and tilting his head as he sauntered into the kitchen, “Dinner first, and then you can open your gift.”

You made to protest - But Caranthir, you shouldn’t have! I don't have anything to give you, after all. - but Caranthir would have none of it. Surging with boldness, that he would probably run out of later, he ushered you into the dining room as if it were his own home. 

The two of you made comfortable small talk at first. You had known one another for quite some time, but this was the last time you could remember being alone with Caranthir. It made your head spin to think about it. As the night went on and the Reisling loosened your lips, you had gone from complimenting his attire to complimenting the way the candlelight flickered in his eyes.             

“The sun will be setting soon,” you said, “We hardly have time for desert before it is time to set out the lamps. We should set them out beforehand.”

“That is quite all right,” said Caranthir.

You nodded and stood, “Good. I am going to get the lanterns.”

Caranthir gave you a rather curt reply, much to his own annoyance, and stood after you had disappeared down the hallway. He made for the kitchen to retrieve the gift. Caranthir’s heart was pounding and he was sure his face was red (he could practically hear his brothers taunting him now - You gone shy, loverboy?), but he made no move to back out of his plan. Newfound confidence planted itself in his chest as he watched you emerge from the hallway with the lanterns in hand - he couldn’t wait to see your face as you opened the gift. 

“Are you ready?” you asked, “I figured we could set them out on the back porch. It gives us a lovely view of the suns-”

“Actually,” interrupted Caranthir, wincing as he took not of his bad manners, “I had a place in mind. I requested that your stable hand have horses ready for us after dinner, I hope I have not overstepped my boundaries, and I was hoping that you would open your gift when we arrive.”

You smiled, “That’s perfect, then! Let me get my jacket.”

Caranthir watched you with a smile as you made your way to the coat closet. He was utterly enamored with you. He couldn’t help but imagine what he would do for the opportunity to be yours, if only for a moment.

“Are you ready?” you said. 

He nodded and held the door open with his left arm for you to walk by him. The scent that floated about you only drove him farther up the wall for you than you before; his maddening want amplified at the fleeting brush of your dress against his robes. His right hand reached over for the large basket that had the desert and your gift tucked safely away. 

Your pace picked up as you neared to stables - where could he be taking you? Anticipation sent thrums through your chest, and you couldn’t tell if your breathing was ragged because you were walking so fast or because of the waning and waxing of the fire of expectation licking at your nerves. 

Caranthir was quick to catch up to you and mounted before you did. You flashed him a smile as you climbed atop your horse.

“Where are we going?”

Caranthir tsked, “You will know in good time.”

You settled for the answer and guided your horse to follow his lead. He rode along rather swiftly, presumably to arrive at this mystery destination before the sun set. 

The bottom of the sun began to tease the horizon when Caranthir finally began to slow. When you got to the top of the grassy hill in front of you, your eyes were met with quite the vision: out of the forest ahead poked a bluff with a waterfall about the width of an eagle’s wingspan trickling down into a silver-blue pond. The water was nearly as clear as the air, jostling itself against the rocks on one shore and against the soft grass on the other. Caranthir secured the horses next to a willow tree, then produced a blanket for the two of you to sit on. You blushed and hid your smile. Who knew that Fëanor’s middle-most son could be so sweet?

He settled and looked up at you, awaiting for you to do the same. The dim light couldn’t conceal the blush that plastered itself on his already darkened cheeks. Despite his redness and the fluttering of his heart, he kept his cool, if only by sheer willpower. 

You smiled at him before looking at the sunset. It had sunk quite a bit farther down - only her golden crown was visible. You supposed you could have lost track of time, enamored as you were watching Caranthir arrange everything. Shuffling sounds reached your ears, and you looked over to see Caranthir gesturing for you to open your gift. 

“Oh,” you said, “Caranthir, you know I can’t take this! I haven’t got anything  to give you.”

“To think that the premise on which to share gifts with my close friend is on whether or not she has one for me - don’t be absurd!” He said, “Besides, the sun is fast falling, and I should like to celebrate the day today and not tomorrow.”

You cut your eyes playfully at him before taking the package with delicate hands. You almost felt bad to open it - it was wrapped perfectly and tied together in a pretty bow, but you could no longer conceal the anticipation at what Caranthir had in the box for you. When you finished opening it and saw what was inside, your heart leapt for joy.

“Where did you get these?” you said, taking the floral arrangements out of the box with wide eyes and a buoyant smile, “I have not seen any hydrangeas since I left Alqualonde. Surely you did not go all that way.”

Caranthir couldn’t contain the sheepish look that crept to his face, but the longer you admired the gift, the more his confidence grew. “It wasn’t too hard a journey,” he replied, “And who would have that Celegorm of all people would have known how to weave them into that shape? Of course, Celegorm has more knowledge on growing things than any of the Noldor I know.”

“It is not for his knowledge for growing things that he crafted this.”

Caranthir looked at you inquisitively.

“These look just like the ones we did at my home, and that is a craft that only the Teleri know,” you replied, “Perhaps Celegorm had taken a lover in Alqualonde?”

Caranthir laughed, “Perhaps. I will have to ask him about that, then!”

You laughed and began to prepare the arrangements for the lamps - enveloping a bright flame safely within the weaved ring of flowers - as Caranthir set made two fruit covered scones and poured two glasses of the tawny port wine packed away in the basket. When you were both finished, you stood. 

Though the two of you were lovesick fools and your mannerisms betrayed you to the world around you, you had both managed to remain somewhat composed around each other - until now. That changed when the both of you stood and locked eyes. 

Caranthir, on the daily, was by no means rude, but his quiet demeanor and tendencies for solitude had earned him a reputation as temperamental and isolated. Though his friends and family knew he did not completely disregard them, there was no denying that there was something lacking in him, whether it simply be the right kind of affection or something else. Today, he had all but convinced you otherwise. His handsome face was complimented by the kindest silver-gray eyes you had ever seen, warm and inviting and entirely good-natured and so damn alluring. His intimidating frame, rivaled only by his brothers, had relaxed and opened up to tease an embrace countless times over the course of the day. Though not wholly self-centered, but not at all selfless, Caranthir had seemed to become the most thoughtful and caring man you had ever met. He had been so kind - what with providing desert and taking you out here and the gift. Though you would always harbor the slightest bit of resentment toward your family for leaving you in Valinor alone, you most certainly missed them and the traditions that the Teleri held for holidays such as this. Though you loved the friends and new family you had in Tirion, taking you ache for home and how bitter-sweet the holidays might hold for you was something no one had taken into account - except Caranthir.

And he was more than glad he did. You were kind and charismatic and friendly to everyone you met, but the privilege of being the one behind your sweet, melodious laughter and the gleeful twinkle in your eyes was exhilarating. Here and now, he couldn’t tear his eyes away from the glow the flame of the lamps cast on your visage. The sun setting behind the waterfall now colored in a dim golden hue tried her hardest to rival you as you stood in all your beauty; but you looked as glorious as the sun herself, and she was but a candle. 

“Shall we, then?” you said, voice now quiet and timid. 

Caranthir smiled and delicately reached for the lamp you prepared for him with one hand and laced the fingers on his other with yours. The two of you kicked off your shoes and made for the water. 

It was fortunate that the both of you had worn thin outer layers, seeing as neither of you made to remove them or hike them up when you began to wade into the pond. You let out a breathy laugh when you realized, but made no move to amend it. Mud seeped in between your toes and the chilly water sent goosebumps down your spine. You looked tenderly at Caranthir when you were waist deep in the water - this was where you would set out your lamps. He smiled and swept you hair behind you before you both looked back over the water. You shivered, and his arm came to rest behind you. The water felt cool and refreshing on your hands. It sloshed up in between your fingers as you settled your lamp onto the surface. Out of the corner of your eye, you could see Caranthir doing the same.

The two of you met eyes as you brought your hands back to your sides and smiled at one another. This time next year, he would kiss you in these very waters, vowed Caranthir. He tightened his arm around you as you looked back out to the water.

Two lamps floated still side by side on their journey to the other shore. Maybe this was the beginning of a journey not just for the lamps - but for you and Caranthir, too. 

[archive-of-silm-fanfics]

Maeglin being in love with you hc

Maeglin x Reader

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

♡ Is very shy around you at first and doesn't speak Quenya well, which is why it takes a while for you to get to know each other properly

♡ But even before that, you get on relatively well

♡ You are the first person in Gondolin to try to make friends with him, and he is very grateful to you for this, and shows it with small gifts, such as flowers or necklaces and bracelets he has forged himself

♡ As he sometimes seems a bit lonely, you often invite him to picnics or come to his forge and keep him company

♡ He doesn't know how to tell you that he likes you because he's afraid you might leave, he is convinced he doesn't deserve love

♡ So he doesn't say anything but just gives you lots of gifts and spends as much time with you as possible

♡ Always looks for you when he's sad, even if he doesn't tell you why he was looking for you

♡ You start to notice something and give him a gift too, Maeglin doesn't know what to say, but always cherishes your gift

♡ If he finds you crying or sad, he doesn't know what to do, but leaving you crying alone is not an option, so he does what his mum always did when he was sad: he talks to you in a calm voice until you calm down a bit and takes you into his arms

♡ Maeglin's voice works wonders on you

♡ When he is captured by Morgoth, he has enough trust in you to afterwards tell you what happened

♡ Together you warn the others and flee the city

♡ Maeglin wants to stay behind at first because he doesn't think he deserves to be rescued

♡ This is the moment when you tell him that you love him and want him to come with you

♡ So Maeglin quietly tells you that he feels the same way about you and comes with you, because you tell him that you couldn't live without him, and that you would stay in Gondolin with him, and he could never let that happen

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

[archive-of-silm-fanfics]

Love and Loss - Maedhros x Reader

Even after all those years, you could feel your lover's cold words biting into you like shards of ice. Despite his cruelty, losing him hurt. Sharper still was losing part of yourself.

The frigid air of Angband cruelly caressed Maehdros’ body as he hung, limp and numb, from the mountainside of Thangorodrim. He craned his head at the golden light that peaked above the horizon. It was so strange - it was a light eerily familiar with Laurelin.

He had met you there - under the golden tree of Valinor. The pink blush of your dress matched the Yuletide decorations and complimented your buoyant smile. It was one that he had soon begun to detest. 

He’d refrained from burning the ships at Losgar for the sake of you and his dear friend Fingon, through whom he had met you, but that wasn’t something he had ever cared to admit. No, he feared what his father might do to him in wrath were he to admit it. But that wasn’t to say that the indignation that his father felt to quite literally everyone of the Eldar save a precious few wasn’t a growth in the caverns of his own mind. The friendship that blossomed between the two of you had long been neglected and cast away. 

It could have been a trick of Morgoth’s. It was not out of character for the fallen Vala to torment Maedhros with impersonations of loved one’s and visions of the peaceful life he led before leaving home. Teasing him with memories and voices and phantom touches was something Morgoth seemed to take pleasure in, and though Maedhros had - wrongly - begun to harbor ill will towards you for a short while, Morgoth didn’t seem to mind taking full advantage of your memory from time to time. 

“Friends? A lover?” Morgoth would say as Maedhros reached out his free hand to take yours and kiss it under Laurelin’s light like he did that day upon your first meeting, only to prod his fingers at nothing but the biting cold air of Angband, “It would seem they have forsaken you, even in memory.”             

It was not, in fact, a picture of the light of the tree. Emerging over the horizon was a fiery orb hung in the sky, beautiful and terrible and, quite frankly, frightening. Maedhros had never seen anything like it. If it was an illusion, it was most certainly not one made of memory. 

Metal flickered in the blazing light, and when a rich, clear sound echoed off the mountainside, Maedhros recognized the gleaming gold to be the gold of the trumpets of Fingolfin.

He couldn’t really say he felt any bitterness or contempt as he watched the blue banners arise over the hills in the West. There was no resentment or hatred rising up in his throat like bile. After countless days (years? decades?) hung on the mountainside, Maedhros couldn’t really feel anything but desperation. 

Years of enmity were lost on his mind as he cried out to his kin marching over the hills. His voice was strong; his cries echoed on the rocks and down into the valley. He made no notion to stop, no matter how hoarse his throat would be or how cruel and fierce his lashings of penance.

Harsher still was the response of Fingolfin’s host - or rather, the absence of a response. 

______________________________________________________________________________

Turgon was the first to spot the great bird hurrying toward Hithlum bearing his brother and his cousin. He cried out in astonishment, and a hundred more gasps followed his own. Surprise soon turned to horror. 

Blood poured out of Maedhros, but from where could not be seen lest he was unswaddled. His face was contorted in anguish, and he clutched onto Fingon like a vice.

Despite the years of disregard he displayed for your relationship and the resulting contempt you festered for him, you almost pitied him. Almost.

You didn’t move as Fingon dismounted the great bird, only stared at the shrunken body of someone once loved and once loathed. Nothing stirred in your gut at the sight of him like it should have. There was no fierce rage blistering your insides as you watched Fingon carry Maedhros across the concrete in Hithlum like years of friendship had not been tossed to the wind - as Maedhros, unworthy as he was, re-entered your life, at least for the moment in thought. There was no real pity enveloping your now-still heart as you watched the black-haired archer haul his dear friend - your friend - to the healing rooms. 

You wished you hadn’t looked.

Amidst the blood and dirt that caked his skin you saw Maedhros’ once gleaming eyes wild and frantic. You adored when those eyes were warm and kind and you loathed him when they were cold and piercing, but something entirely gut-wrenching crept under your skin as you saw Maedhros Fëanorion in utter agony and panic. 

You shrugged, then turned away and made your way to your chambers. He’d lost too much blood - if he made it to the morrow he’d not remember you, or the tears that he surely would have seen pooled up in your eyes upon his return. 

______________________________________________________________________________

It seemed that even though Maedhros wouldn’t remember the day’s events, he was determined to make sure everyone else would. His cries of anguish were indescribable; his screams unlike any you had ever heard before, even crossing the Grinding Ice. You had tossed and turned for well over half the night, and you were about to visit the healers, well, the ones that weren’t occupied with Maedhros, if there were any, for some sleep inducing herbs when a knock sounded at your door.

“Are you awake?” came the voice of Aredhel. You did not bother to cover yourself before you answered. She wore a grave look on her face - one she had not worn since Elenwë had passed. Her eyes were tired and her brow was taught. Her lips were puckered slightly and set in a straight line. Her voice was quiet.

“He is calling for you.”

The screaming stopped for a moment as the words settled. Out of an old habit that had not quite died, you nearly reached for your slippers and robe. You stopped yourself and let out a sharp breath.

“Will you not come?”

Aredhel had been alienated from the sons of Fëanor, just like you had. She knew what it felt like to be separated from friends, from family, but it was unlikely that she knew the weight of her request.

You scoffed, “No.”

“Nesa, plea-”

“Tell Findekano to color his hair,” you said sarcastically, “and find a gown that flatters him. I doubt any of mine will fit. The patient is tired. He will take the ba-”

“Nesa!” Aredhel said, new vigor in her tone, “Please.”

Another scream rang out. Aredhel’s eyes glossed over and she elongated a blink. She was exasperated, however much she tried to conceal it for selflessness’ sake, and desperate. 

You sighed, “Let me get dressed.” 

You couldn’t tell if the sound of your boots against the marble floor had become significantly louder than you last remembered it or if you were subconsciously stomping your way to the halls of healing to drown out Maedhros’ cries. In his defense, he had admittedly gotten quieter; it could have been because his pain was lessening, it could have been because his throat was hoarse. Your steps weren’t deliberately quick, but the irritation that was held behind each one made it seem like you were eager to be somewhere. You stopped abruptly a few feet away from the door. You heard him let out a guttural groan before inhaling sharply.

You took a long, deep breath before opening the door. 

“Thank Eru you're here,” you heard Fingon say, “He won’t stop begging for you. It was getting worse and worse, albeit his condition has improved.” 

You grimaced. The smell of blood and desperation filled the air. Maids and aides were rushing in and out of the room, still unable to keep up with the clean water and dressing despite the improvement. How bad was it? 

Your feet, once trampling under you down the hall, now felt heavy and slow as you made your way to the chair by the bed. Your robes would have to be thrown away - you were sure whatever liquid that was in the floor and soaking into them was not clean water. It was a shame. You liked these robes - long and golden and royal blue. They made you look taller. 

His eyes had no tears in them - perhaps he’d cried himself dry - as he looked at you. His face was twisted and beads of sweat rolled down his forehead. Your eyes trailed to his neck and to his chest, where numerous smaller bandages were fastened. When your eyes fell lower, you found yourself horrified. 

His right hand was gone. 

That had been where all the blood was coming from, you concluded. You watched with widened eyes as one of the healers wrapped the bleeding nub tightly with another clean cloth. The blood, though still pouring out profusely, seemed to be letting up a bit. 

You met his eyes again. They were as blue as ever, and even Morgoth himself couldn’t douse the fire inside them, but they were glistening and frightened and desperate. They widened as he saw you again.

“No!” he shouted, “Leave me alone!”

You furrowed your eyebrows. Fingon and Aredhel both said he called for you, and for what?  So he could send you away? What a waste of your time! You took a step closer, despite his protests. 

“I told you to leave!”

You said nothing.

“But my lord,” said a healer gently, “You called for them - said it was someone that loved you.” 

He looked to the healer and made a near snarl, “Do not patronize me!” He turned to you. “You are the worst enemy I have ever had!”

Ah.

You reluctantly made your way to the chair next to the bed as the aid tried to reason with him, to no avail. He lashed out at you with his left hand. You stopped him firmly with your right. 

“Maedhros,” you said, and for a moment he looked at you and seemed a child again, unmarred and burdened not with the grief of the East, “I am not Morgoth, and you are not in Angband. You are in Hithlum. You are safe.”

 He seemed, for a moment, at comfort, and though his turmoil did not leave him, he despaired no longer.

You sat with him in silence for a long while, but it was not a comfortable silence. He tried to make conversation with you, perhaps to distract himself, or perhaps because in his delirious state, he thought you wanted to be there.

You suppressed a scoff. To watch him bleed? After all he’d done to you, though, maybe he thought you’d like it. 

Time dragged on. For a while, the healers insisted you stay until he was asleep. As the night grew older and your thoughts wandered to memory, you found yourself staying not at the healers’ request, but at your own free will.

Maedhros had done terrible things, yes - though he wasn’t as active as his father in Alqualonde and he didn’t burn the ships, he had pledged himself to you. He had made a promise under pain and longsuffering - one that he had broken. But how much pain, and how much longsuffering before he was vindicated? Before his transgressions annulled? Were they reconciled when he was taken, or when his hand came off? You couldn’t help but pity him.

It was a pain you knew too well. 

Crossing the Helcaraxe had been hard on everyone, and losing your left hand didn’t make it any easier. Losing it was painful and healing hurt more, but nothing was as detrimental as what came next. At first, you had been the ‘funny aunt’ to Idril who could use puppets on her arm, and a beacon of hope and a picture of determination to a young Aredhel, but as time went on, you found themselves looking at you with poorly hidden pity, eyes clouded over like storm clouds amongst stars at a masquerade ball. 

But it was not pity that Maedhros really needed - no. It was redemption. 

His disregard for those he claimed to love was prominent, proved at his departure and highlighted by his actions. But his father had gone mad and his grandfather was killed. He was in a tight spot. Was he truly evil at heart? It seemed cruel to expect him to compromise, what with part of him already compromised. But how else was he to be redeemed? Was he to fast? Or to cut off his hair like Fingon had his hand?  Was he to kneel on your doorstep for one hundred days, begging for vindication? For your forgiveness?

You could give him that - forgiveness. It was far-fetched, or so you thought, to bargain for unearned forgiveness when he had a bucketload of consequences that were to come with his actions - a lack of your love and tender care that he once had being one of them.

Your mother would chide you. Forgiveness was to be given freely. Only Mandos himself and only by leave of Mawë could mercilessness be wrought, and whether or not a person was deserving of it was not for any of the Eldar to decide, not even the greatest. It was something you struggled with as a child - after all, anyone could hurt you, but that didn’t matter as long as they couldn’t hold a grudge to rival your own, right?

Maedhros stirred. You let go of his hand - when had you reached for it? - as if it burned and stood abruptly. Dawn was upon you. His body was broken. You knew the emotional turmoil he would soon undergo, and you doubted he would make it. He could reckon his fortune for forgiveness with the Decider himself. 

______________________________________________________________________________

You slept throughout the next day, though no rest came to you. Memories and subtle convictions plagued your mind. At last, late in the afternoon, you decided to have a bite to eat and get some fresh air. 

Thirty pairs of eyes followed your form, breaths held and shoulders tense as you made your way to the kitchens of Hithlum. You had not toyed with the prospect of being bombarded with questions about the state of the Noldorin prince, but, you supposed, it was for the better. You knew little about his condition as of today, and you wished you knew less than you did. 

Despite the beauty of the day, a cloud of tension stalked Hithlum eerily. The gardens were almost too quiet. If you hadn’t any fear of being caught, you would have talked to the spotted swan orchids potted near the bench. 

You sat in silence for a moment and rued leaving your room, beginning to doze off after you had decided to rouse and go about. You jumped when the bench shifted underneath you.

“I don’t suppose you're the worst enemy I’ve ever had.”

You sighed and looked down at the bowl in your hands, elbows resting on your knees. “That isn’t what you said last night,” you said, “Or all those years ago, for that matter.”

Maedhros fell silent for a moment. “I know.”

It seemed as if the both of you had a bubble around one another, and the proximity forced them to squish and mold against one another. It was only a matter of time before one of them would pop, leaving you vulnerable and Maedhros even more so.

“I’m sorry,” he said after a long, awkward while.

You said nothing.

“Melda, please-”

“Do not call me that.”

He let out a broken sigh and hid his face away from you. Not that you were looking. His mouth contorted into a grimace, and tears pricked his eyes.

“Woe is me!” He said suddenly and quietly, but his voice grew louder, “Woe is me! And woe is the day I left you on those white shores! Now I am at a loss - of a love and of a limb. My departure was the greatest of my misdeeds. I shall rue it, and of all my fell deeds, leaving you behind shall be accounted as the worst.”

You couldn’t help but feel a little smug at his admittance. 

“I see that hanging by your wrist for thirty years has not quipped that tongue of yours.”

“No,” he replied, “And I fear nothing ever shall. But for the will of my tongue, I’d have all that I have ever wanted by now - all that I have wished for while hanging from that precipice. How now shall I go on?”

“Do not be a fool,” you said, rather harshly, but years of biting winds and boots filled with snow will make a person harsh, “What is done is done. There is no use lamenting what once was, for by lament alone it shall not come again to be.”

“If you would hear my lament,” he said, “Then maybe you would forgive me.”

You straightened your posture. “You have not asked my forgiveness - and do not do so yet! You have a great deal to learn before you can be reconciled, if I see fit.”

He raised his eyebrows, “If you see fit? I beg your pardon, but was I false to hope that you might hear my plea? Did you lose your mercy and compassion on your journey?”

“I lost many things.”

Maedhros squared his shoulders towards you. His eyes trailed down your frame, and then widened. His breath hitched, and a tense silence befell you both.

“I am sorry,” he said after a while. His voice was timid and shy. Even in begging your forgiveness, the Fearnorian pride that tainted his blood did not cower; his words were ever confident, ever secure in their purpose. Upon looking at your left arm, which his right now mimicked, his boldness left him.

“Hush. You are bold to ask forgiveness of your misdeeds towards me, but you did not cut off my hand.”

He said nothing. For a moment. Your posture straightened. His, though you were now vulnerable to him, slouched. 

“Then forgiveness I do not ask of you,” Maedhros said, “only one thing, if your kindness would go so far: council. I do not know what to do next - how I am to relearn all that I have known.”

“It is a long process, even for the greatest of the Eldar - even for one filled with the light of Valinor,” you replied, “It will end, but it feels like it never will.”

“What does it feel like?”

White shores flashed across your eyes. You could feel your mother’s disappointed gaze burning into your back. Green lights came into your peripheral, and for a moment you could feel Turgon’s embrace and Idril’s excited shivering. Your mouth twitched into a fleeting smile. Then there was a crack, and a splash, and a woman’s scream and a man’s desperate pleas to the gods - whichever ones were listening, Manwë or Ulmo or Melkor himself. You gripped the bench with your right hands. Your heart beat increased and a weight fell upon your arm like heavy stones. A thousand tiny needles pricked your skin. You began to feel stiff and lifeless. This time, there were no harp-calloused hands hauling you to the dry, and the weight on your wrist only got heavier. Your eyes flew open.

“Cold,” you said quietly, and shuddered, “As if the chill was drawn from all the waters and the ground and the winds of Eä and even the cold of the souls of the wicked, and then sewn onto my bones.”

You slowly reached with your right hand towards what used to be your left.

“And sometimes, I feel stiff - like my hand has been covered in tar and I cannot move it,” you continued, “And sometimes, there is nothing.” 

Maedhros did not dare meet your eyes.

“They will look at you with such pity that maybe their gazes will regrow it, but they will not. Until they know your power, your will, your resolve, until deep down they fear you, they will whisper to one another how unfortunate you are to have suffered such a loss. Your arm will heal, but until you have surpassed resolution and have become fortitude incarnate, you will not again be well.” 

Maedhros didn’t respond at first. He sat for a good long while, unsure of whether you were talking about your hand or something entirely different. Your gaze was directed towards the morning glories climbing up the Western stairs, but your eyes were somewhere far off from the gardens of Hithlum. 

“How do you bear it, then,” he said, “Until it does heal?”

“There isn’t anything for it,” you replied, “Except to bear it. In Valinor, maybe, you would heal in time tenfold. Though, from what I heard, providence in Valinor is not an option.”

“No, it is not. But I have told you already, it is my greatest regret. And you have said it yourself: what is done is done.” His eyes were filled with determination, but void of all hope. 

The sun began to set, and the two of you sat together late into the night. Memories floated about your mind of your life before your departure - before his departure, and sooner or later your mind drifted to your memories with him. Some were good memories, but most were not. His departure - his oath - replayed over and over in your mind. 

“Why did you do it?” you said, “Why did you leave?”

He was quiet for a moment, and you couldn’t tell if he was hesitant or thoughtful.

“I would have left all the same, I suppose,” he said, finally, “or been forced out, anyways. A man will be worthy of his father’s name or be tainted by it  - after the attack at Alqualonde, I do not know which would have been worse.”

You seemed unsatisfied with his answer, but what he told you was the truth - and he knew of nothing else that would satisfy you, not even a lie. 

“I would have loved you all the same,” you said.

He let out a sharp breath, “Would you have?”

You cast your gaze down. “I have endured bitter cold and hardships across the Grinding Ice. What is time to the Eldar? But it is my greatest loss. I loved you even then.”

He stood, abruptly, and knelt in front of you, clasping your right hand with his left. “You knew what I had done then. Can you not love me now?”

You retracted your hand, “You think too highly of yourself. My love for you is trapped under the ice; miles now lie between memories.”

“You held it in your left hand, then,” he reached again for you and found your wrist. “I have given my right in atonement. Is that not enough? Shall I give my left? I gladly will.”

“Don’t be stupid,” you said, “By your right hand you were fell and your deeds were wicked, but by your left you may yet be forgiven. Convince me.”

“What will it take?”

“What will you give?”

“I have told you already,” said Maedhros, “if that is not enough, then I will give you everything.”

You searched his blue eyes for a lie or a fault, but you found none. Your resolve nearly broke when his eyes roamed across your face, searching desperately for your reaction. Would it break him - for you to tell him to get lost? No. He had endured so much, and he did not break you when he was separated from you the first time. You imagined vividly enough to make yourself believe that he would break, and soon had yourself convinced that it was mercy that led you to give him his chance.

“Sit up. Hold me for a while like you did long ago,” you said, “Let me think, and perhaps my terms will not be too great.”

It was not mercy. Forgiveness was difficult, even more so if one’s wounds had gone untreated for too long; but perhaps it would come a little easier if you found solace from your afflictions in the careful embrace of your guilt-ridden afflicter. Your heart stopped at his touch, and though you knew it wasn’t forgiveness, something welled up in your heart that made you wish that things were not as they were, or at the very least, that they could go back to the way things had been.

“As you wish.”

[archive-of-silm-fanfics]

Dance - Caranthir x Reader

Caranthir couldn't think of anything worse that being trapped on a picnic with you and his insufferable brothers, aside from missing out on some exquisite honey cakes.

Caranthir did not suppress the subtle shudder that coursed through him as he watched you split another one of Amrod’s arrows down the middle with the release of your own from his spot under the dancing boughs of the willow tree. The same caressing wind that lifted your pink dress around your ample thighs bit harshly at his face -  ruddy complexion deepening in the warmth of the afternoon and his clear disdain for the itinerary of the day. The heat was scorching - Caranthir could only imagine what kind of burn he would have later - and his heavy robes did him no favors. The grass tickled his legs even through his thick trousers, and, for the love of Eru, Maglor would not shut up. 

He couldn’t remember what made him agree to coming out here today with you and his brothers. He could only wish he could go back in time to take it back. 

Yes, Caranthir thought, he ought to have stayed home.

But it did him no good reminiscing about what he ought to have done. Even knowing what he knew now, he would have come out here. When you looked at him with those starry eyes and weaved a melody into your question while he watched you put those divine honey cakes you made into a basket for the outing in question, how could he refuse? Those honey cakes came to him few and far between, after all. Besides, Celegorm couldn’t have you all to himself.

Bitterness crept up Caranthir’s throat as he watched his silver-haired brother hold his arm out for your taking. Caranthir tried not to lock his eyes on the pair of you, staring with unnatural pointedness off into the distance. He turned his head the opposite direction when you hiked your skirts to sit criss-cross on the ground under the tree. 

Mindless chatter echoed about the branches above the bunch of you before slipping between the leaves on the tree with the whining wind - trivial things. Caranthir cared not about how you had begun to demonstrate excellence in your work, Yavanna even putting you on par with some of the Maian herbalists, or the new dress that you were having made - deep aqua green silk with golden embroidery on the sleeves and neckline and at the belt - and how it was sure to compliment your sublime figure, or about the suitors that lined themselves at your door. Those were not things he concerned himself with, was the lie he would mutter to himself later that night in the safety of his bedroom, looking a bit too closely at a half-finished sketch that Celegorm drew of you that simply must have gotten mixed up with Caranthir’s things. How else would that drawing end up in his room?

You opened the basket and reached for what was left of the foods you had brought. The honey cakes were gone, and all that was left was an assortment of cheeses and bread, and half the bottle of Alqualonde wine. Caranthir watched you closely as you took a sip straight from the bottle. 

“I don’t care for any of them,” you said after you finished describing your most recently admitted admirer - a burly fellow with an affinity for woodworking, but not really any skill of mind, “Ama says I need to take what I can get, that I have had fine fellows throw themselves at my feet and I ought to be grateful, and that if I don’t hurry up and choose all the eligible bachelors will stop bothering and I’ll end up alone, or with someone artless and maladroit.”

Caranthir averted his eyes. He wasn’t maladroit, and not entirely artless, though needlework wasn’t something that very many men of the Noldor pursued. In his wild fantasies, you would be latching onto his arm as you dismount your horse, alone with you under the willow tree and eating honey cakes while you teased him with your wine-stained lips. Suitors would not be part of the picture.

Maglor stopped his playing and snorted, “They’ve been offering themselves on a silver platter for your taking for a century. I hardly think they will stop now.”

Caranthir flinched when you barked out a harsh laugh. 

Once upon a time, your mother had wanted nothing more than for you to wed Maglor Feanorion. It was no lie that his dreamy charisma and tedious musical talent had attracted you to him in your younger years, but as you got older, you found yourself more than content to call yourself his friend. Your mother’s dismay was tangible when you told her you loved him only platonically. 

“Why does she want you married so badly, anyways?” asked Maedhros, previously reading quietly next to a napping Amras, “Does she want grandchildren?”

You shrugged, “I don’t know. I don’t see why she doesn’t pester my sister about it, if that’s the case. I’ve half a mind to pretend I’ve already got one, just don’t have someone to play the part.”

Caranthir repressed a scoff. Celegorm did a fine job of playing your lover, Caranthir thought bitterly. 

“Tell her you have chosen that ‘business man’ from the North,” said Maedhros, dryly, “Whatever business there is in the North.” 

You laughed, “When he told us that, I immediately had a terrible feeling about him. Father reached out to one of his kinsmen who has close ties with some of the Maiar in service to Lórien - perhaps they can place what is wrong with him there. Surely he is a mad man.”

“And she believes it is only eligible bachelors that are pursuing you,” Maglor remarked. He had begun to play a merry tune on his lute. When you suggested a dance, Caranthir wished Maglor would go back to playing the disorganized plucking he called practice. 

Celegorm was the first to stand to his feet, bold and confident but nonetheless a terrible dancer. His movements were brutish, clumsy, and uncoordinated. Nerdanel had tried her hardest to teach her sons to dance, but she was no dancer herself. It was Curufin, surprisingly, who had been most successful, and it was Curufin whom your mother paid to try to teach you. Your mother had begrudged your dancing abilities and did everything in her power to see that they improved. You were by no means a good dancer, even Curufin unable to get rid of your second left foot, but there was no denying that Caranthir had seen something faeish about your movements. 

There was something in the midst of the awkward dance between you and his fair-haired brother that Caranthir wanted more than anything. 

Well, almost anything.

When Celegorm retired underneath the tree to assist Amrod in making up crude lyrics to Maglor’s tune you were left without a dance partner - Maglor being the means of the music and Maedhros and Curufin none too keen to leave their seats on the thick clover grass. Caranthir, though in his fantasies was bold enough to extend his hand to you for a dance and lucky enough for you to take it, would not do so and risk having his brother’s ridicule him. He would not risk being mocked for satisfying the yearning that plastered itself so blatantly on his face; he had been lucky so far - only Maglor had cut his eyes in Caranthir’s direction when someone mentioned your romantic life. He almost hoped that you would call out to him in your honeyed voice - Caranthir, come and dance with me! - but you did not. He supposed it was for the better; he couldn’t imagine the humiliation of the very object of his desires calling him out on his cowardice. 

Caranthir didn’t know whether to be dismayed or delighted when you did just that - called out to him. The fireworks that erupted in his chest seemed to simultaneously force his heart to the bottom of his stomach when your delicate hands firmly hauled him to his feet by his wrist. He heard Celegorm snicker and saw Maedhros raise a coppery eyebrow out of the corner of his eye, but he dared not look back. 

He scrambled to recall the steps that he had been taught as a teenager all those years ago, but they were nothing but passive details in a blurred memory. Fortunately for him, you did not seem to care about the accuracy of the movement, only the exhilaration of the dance.

The fourth son of Feanor had never quite placed what was so enjoyable about dancing. Watching a group of people dance was mundane and felt like watching mice solve a maze, and watching a couple felt intrusive. Dancing in a group felt as derogatory as being a mouse in a maze, and there were other things couples could spend time together doing that Caranthir could think of, dancing not being one of them. For example, he could take you to the gardens for scones and coffee, or on a peaceful outing to the bay, or a carriage ride. He could have you over for a private dinner: he would walk you from your home to his, bring you flowers and a gown that he did a much better job at than your current seamstress. Your favorite dinner foods would be prepared with the finest wine and served over candle light. Later, the dress he made for you would come off - 

He fought the urge to shake his head. 

“Isn’t this fun?” you said with an ever-radiant smile, loudly enough that he could hear it over Maglor’s lute but softly enough that his brother’s couldn’t.

He couldn’t help but turn his lips up and hum in agreement.

You hand had released his in favor of wrapping both arms around his neck, and Caranthir seemed to finally find the appropriate part of your waist to place his own hands. The proximity between the two of you had lessened as the dance had gone on, the two of you trying to keep somewhat in sync with the music and with each other proving too difficult when you were both so far away from one another. He had begun to loosen up at last, now able to relish in finally having you in his arms and enjoy the dance, without feeling uneasy at the presence of his brothers in the background. 

He had listened to Maglor’s music often enough to know when his older brother was nearly finished with the song, and he dreaded releasing you from his hold and hated the uncertainty of what came next. Celegorm would be quick to find his place next to you once Caranthir sat back down, and he would have no choice but to return to his brooding and private fantasizing. You had spoiled him with your touches - they were ever too real. He could not bring himself to let go of your perfect silhouette, made just for him and most certainly not for his brother, no matter how pretty Celegorm was. Once his reality, the absence of your hands on his nape toying with his inky hair was an unimaginable torment. He couldn’t look away from your glistening eyes - deep and dilated and enchanting - or your upturned lips that beckoned him closer by the moment. He simply couldn’t not kiss you.

The realization of what he’d done hit him when Maglor dropped his lute and Celegorm snorted. 

“I didn’t think you had it in you, Moryo,” said Celegrom, clearly having taken the liberty in ensuring the rest of the wine didn’t go to waste.

Caranthir darkened at his words. He turned back when you whispered his name and found you looking at him with a starry expression, leaning closer and tilting your head to the side slightly. His resolve broke when you parted your lips. Caranthir’s mouth met yours with movements a bit uncertain but with intention nonetheless. When the kiss deepened he angled the two of you so that his taller frame shielded you from his pestering brothers as Celegorm and the Ambarussar childishly hooted and hollered. Heat surged through his veins when you hummed in his mouth, spurring him on. He had found you ever so enticing, your searing touch only a part of his wild imagination that had him fervently whispering your name in the dead of night. His every desire had finally come to be. 

Yes, he thought, dancing certainly had an appeal of its own. 

It was a good thing he was so fond of those honey cakes.

[archive-of-silm-fanfics]

Hope

Pairing: Idril x Reader

Summary: After the Fall of Gondolin, Idril, you and some of Gondlins people are on the run. You are pretty stressed and she helps you to relax.

Warnings: mentiones of the Fall of Gondolin

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

The road ahead of you was dark and stretched further into the unknown. You didn't know how many miles you had walked, but you were sure you would walk many more this night.

It must have been hours since Gondolin had fallen, but your heart was still beating as fast as the first time you had heard the bells signalling an attack.

Suddenly you felt someone put their hand in yours. You flinched and your other hand had already moved in the direction of your sword when you realised that it was only Idril, who was looking at you with a worried expression.

"You need to relax a little," she said gently, brushing a strand of hair from your forehead. "It will only get worse like this. We made it out. We escaped."

"For now, yes," you replied, but you couldn't hold her gaze because you couldn't bear to see her so worried. "But they will follow us for sure."

Idril kissed you gently on the cheek. "We can do this. We've already made it this far, do not give up now, Melda."

"But- " you swallowed and squeezed her hand gently. "I almost lost you."

Her other hand found its way to your cheek and she made you look at her. "But you didn't, and you won't. We will stay together forever, just like we promised each other."

You sighed and let her pull you along as she announced that you were going to take a break for a few hours. You could never argue with her for long.

Idril led you under the leaves of a large willow tree that would provide shelter if it started to rain and tugged on your arm until you finally settled next to her and slumped against the tree.

Your whole body was tense, the path had been hard and you still thought you kept seeing the faces of orcs in the darkness.

"Y/N." Idril said gently and climbed onto your lap until she had practically trapped you with her legs and you could no longer stand up. "You need to relax." Her hands found your cheeks and squeezed them gently between her warm and comfortable palms.

You sighed. "I'd love to but- " But Idril placed a finger on your lips.

She took her finger away and leant forward until you could feel her breath on your lips. "Just concentrate on me," she whispered before gently placing her lips on yours.

You had to admit that Idril had always had such an effect on you that you just felt safe when her warmth surrounded you.

And after the last few hours, every part of you longed for that security that reminded you not only of what you had lost, but also of what you still had.

"That is better." Idril whispered as she broke away from the kiss again. As always, she could read you like an open book. She took your face in her hands again and kissed your forehead. "Everything will be all right. We have each other and we can do this."

And when you looked into her eyes, you had to believe her. Idril had never lied to you before and you were sure she wouldn't start now.

So you allowed yourself to hope.

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

[archive-of-silm-fanfics]

Headcanons for going to a party 🎉 (House of Fingolfin)

Hi! I wrote this because I have seen this with Feanorians and Gondolin but not with Fingolfin’s house soooo I hope you like it 💖 -Fingolfin -Fingolfin has a very serious personality, BUT that doesn’t mean he does not like to have fun -I’m sure at the beginning of the party he would keep everything formal, but once he thinks he have done enough he will be ready to start having fun -Of course he would like to spend the party with you since your are the best company he would ever wish for, he will stay by your side all the night and might ask you to dance with you a few times -Fingolfin will stay close to you and might grab your hand (but he will keep formal) -There would be a point at the party where he would not be able to resist any more and would like to go to his chambers, he does want to party but away from people so he can be a little bit more relaxed -If you agree and go to your shared chambers with him, he will stay up a and might want to spend time with you a little bit more -Fingon -Fingon loves parties, and when I say he loves them I mean it, he will be even HAPPIER to spend the night with you -At first he will be forced to do some “prince duties” as expected but he will keep it short and will find an opportunity to escape from those duties - He wants you to have fun WITH him -He will ask you to dance with him multiple times for sure -He will kiss you often and hold you close to him even if he gets scolded by his father -Fingon would also like to eat some of the delicious food offered on the party, and he will grab your favorite dessert for you to eat it -At some point you will spend some time of the party with Maedhros since he is close to Fingon, and the three of you might just sit and enjoy a good conversation -Turgon -Turgon also likes parties but what he likes more is your company at parties -He will take more seriously his “royal duties” and at the beginning of the party he might do them, but he will never take an eye off you, he will keep you close and might include you on the conversations -After he is done he will put his focus only on you, Turgon would ask you what do you want to do and what do you desire -So you want to dance? He will gladly dance with you, you want food? He will order your favorite food... -You just want to sit and talk? He will do that, and he will sit close to you so he can occasionally give a sweet kiss on your cheek -Some of his cousins like Finrod will join at some point on the night -If you get tired he will get you to your shared chambers and might want to cuddle with you -Aredhel -She is the most “rebellious” of her family so she would likely not do any “princess duties” on the night even if she get scolded by her father, she doesn’t care, so If you spend the night with Aredhel expect it to be an active and fun night, you will not rest until she is tired -She would like to dance various times -Aredhel will eat a lot of the delicious food offered and might stole some of her favorite desserts -She will participate in any kind of games and will motivate you to do it too -Expect Celegorm and Curufin to be close -When Aredhel finally gets tired she will sit on some of the tables at the party and might converse with you, she would ask you to take her to her chambers before she drifts off to sleep -Argon -The youngest of his family is excited to spend the night with you! -But as his father he has a more serious and reserved personality, he will obey his father and do whatever he asked him to do but he will keep it quick and short -He is so excited to spend the night with you he doesn’t know what to do first -So as his borther Turgon, he might ask you what to do -He will keep you close probably having his arm around your shoulders or around your waist, he doesn’t care if his father scolds him -He will make jokes about the people at the party, but he will keep them between both of you -After some time Argon would feel trapped to be around of so he will ask you to go outside and give a stroll through the gardens