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catyo90 · 3 days ago

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A Home in Your Hands (Elendil x F!Reader)

The first snow of the season fell the day Elendil returned.

Not with fanfare or song, not to the cheers of Númenórean voices or the welcoming arms of a city awaiting its hero. No. He returned broken, bleeding, and silent—brought back between two men who looked scarcely better than him.

You were in the gardens, gathering the last of the autumn herbs before the frost took them, when a young stable hand found you. “Lord Elendil… he’s come back,” he said breathlessly. “He’s hurt. Bad.”

Your heart sank as you dropped the freshly picked herbs to the cold floor, the chilled air along with your fear made your entire body shiver at the thought of what you were about to see.

You ran as fast your legs would go. Through the endless halls and across the your apothecary out into the main gardens slick with wet leaves, until you found them bringing him to your door—the one place they all seemed to go when swords had done more than cut and battles had taken more than pride.

“Elendil,” you breathed as they laid him on your cot. His tunic was soaked in blood. There was a deep wound across his ribs, another on his shoulder. Dirt and dried blood clung to his face. He looked older than you remembered—tired in a way you’d never seen.

“I’ll take him,” you said at once, kneeling beside him.

One of the guards shifted uncertainly. “He needs a healer—”

“I am a healer.”

They exchanged glances, then nodded and left you to him.

For a moment, all you could hear was the wind outside, the faint hiss of snow against the windows, and the uneven rasp of his breath.

You worked quickly. Warm water, clean cloth, the sting of boiled-athelas. You peeled back his bloodied tunic and washed the wounds with care. His body flinched, his brow knit in pain—but he did not wake. Not even when you stitched the worst of the gash across his side.

Only after he was bandaged and resting, tucked beneath heavy furs beside the fire, did you sit beside him and exhale.

He was alive.

That was enough—for now.

The first few days passed in silence.

Elendil drifted in and out of fevered sleep. You stayed by his side—changing his bandages, dabbing his brow with cool cloths, whispering reassurances though you weren’t sure he heard them.

Sometimes he spoke, but not to you. Words in Quenya or Sindarin, jumbled and breathless—names, commands, prayers. Once, he reached for you, eyes still closed.

“Isildur… no, no—” he mumbled. You gently took his hand in yours, holding it steady.

“He’s safe,” you murmured, though you weren’t sure. “You are safe, Elendil.”

One night, just as the fire had dwindled to embers, he stirred.

You were dozing in the chair beside him when a deep voice rasped: “Water.”

Your eyes flew open. “Elendil?”

His gaze, though clouded, met yours. Sweat beaded at his brow, and his lips were cracked from fever, but there was clarity now—a flicker of the man you remembered.

You quickly brought a cup to his lips and helped him drink.

He took it, shakily. When he finished, he felt his strength leave as you placed him back against the pillow as he exhaled. “You…” he began, voice rough, “are not a dream.”

You smiled faintly. “Not unless dreams come with too many herbs and no sleep.”

His chest moved with the ghost of a chuckle. “I’ve known far worse.”

“You almost didn’t wake at all,” you said gently.

He looked at you. “You saved me.”

You nodded. “I’m a healer. Besides....”

You gently moved the loose strands of hair from his face as he breathed deeply welcoming the soft gesture.

"That's what I do..."

His eyes lingered on your face, softening as he extended a hand to yours, comforted by the warmth. “No. It’s more than that.”

But before you could reply, he slipped back into sleep.

Winter had now settled over the land, and with it came a hush. Snow blanketed the hills, muffled the world. But inside your lodge, there was warmth—slow-growing, fragile, and persistent.

Elendil healed, day by day.

You changed his dressings, coaxed him to eat, supported him when he stood for the first time. He was stood tall even when weakened, and his strength returned gradually. At first he barely spoke, offering only brief thanks, or short answers. He in turn would ask you questions about your healing teaching, where you would get supplies and even about your past

And you answered, surprised to find how easily the words came. No one had ever made you feel so... seen. He listened with an attentiveness that stirred something quiet and tender in your chest.

You learned things what happened in the past too. His travels across the sea. That he carried guilt like a second shadow after losing Isildur in the main lands. That he mourned his wife, though he never said her name.

One evening, you were redressing the wound on his side—a deep scar now, but still tender—when his hand brushed yours.

You paused. Looked up. His eyes were on you.

“You have been more than kind,” he said softly. “More than duty could demand.”

“It was never duty,” you replied.

His gaze lingered. “Why, then?”

You swallowed. “Because you matter. Because you came back broken, and no one else knew how. Because I couldn’t bear to let you fall.”

He said nothing—but his hand stayed resting over yours for a long, long moment. You felt his hand leave yours as you returned to the task at hand. While your gaze was fixed on the wound, he would sneak looks at your face until you were finished.

By midwinter, Elendil could walk without your help, though he still leaned on the cane you had carved for him from an old birch branch.

He insisted on helping where he could—carrying firewood, fetching water, chopping roots for your tinctures. At first, you scolded him gently, worried he’d reopen his wounds, but he only smiled.

“I must repay you somehow,” he said. “A man cannot sit idle while the one who saved him bears every burden.”

“You’re not a burden,” you replied before you could think better of it.

He paused. Then nodded once, solemnly. “Then let me be a companion, at least.”

And so he was.

You fell into a rhythm. Mornings were spent tending to chores. Afternoons, you walked together when the weather allowed. Evenings brought quiet conversations by the fire—sometimes laughter, sometimes shared silence.

He began to smile more and more. To speak of the future.

One night, as snow fell in thick flurries outside, you sat beside him across the fireplace, your knees brushing beneath the woven blanket you both shared. He turned to you, expression unreadable.

“I have known war, loss, exile,” he said. “I had almost forgotten about peace… until now.”

Your heart ached at the confession.

“Elendil,” you whispered.

He looked at you as if you were something holy.

Then he reached up and gently tucked a stray curl behind your ear.

“Sometimes I think I was meant to suffer these wounds… only so I might find you.”

Your heart began to beat rapidly as you could feel a burning blush across your face as he smiled to you. He chuckled at the sight as you covered your face. It was then you felt your hands move away as he gently grabbed your wrists, leaning closer he kissed your forehead.

"It's alright...I understand. I'll leave you be for the night." He said believing he had gone too far.

He kisses your hands, then he stood up returning to his chamber for the night.

"Good night" He said as he walked up the stairs, you were completely hypnotized as you sat there completely perplexed as your hands tingled a bit from where he kissed them.

The days began to lengthen. Snow turned to rain. Buds formed on the trees, and life stirred in the earth once more.

Elendil had decided to stay for a little while longer. By this point he was completely healed but both the Queen regent and yourself believed he needed to take a break from his duties many of the people wished for his return to the main city.

Though he received summons from the outer settlements—petitions for guidance, for leadership—he delayed his return again and again. “They can wait,” he said. “I cannot.”

You weren’t sure what he meant by that… not until the day you found him waiting by the door, the firelight casting golden lines along the edges of his worn tunic.

He looked nervous.

“Elendil?” you asked, setting down your basket with freshly picked mushrooms and seeds on the counter top.

“I need to speak with you,” he said, voice low.

You nodded, walking over to him. “What is it?”

He sighed as he crossed his arms looking away from you for a moment.

“I have been many things in my life,” he began. “A captain, a husband, a father. I have led men into darkness and walked alone through it. But never—not once—did I expect to find someone who could bring light back into me.”

Your breath caught.

“Elendil…”

He reached out and took your hands gently in his, callused thumbs brushing over your knuckles.

“When I was broken, you did not turn away. You healed more than wounds. You reminded me what it meant to feel warmth again. To hope.”

Tears pricked your eyes as you looked up at him.

“I know this heart is scarred,” he said, voice thick, “but it is yours if you’ll have it.”

You stepped closer, unable to speak. Instead, you raised his hand to your cheek, closed your eyes.

And whispered, “If I can have yours....You will have mine. Completely”

He smiled as he pulled you into his arms—carefully at first, but when you didn’t let go, he held you as if he were anchoring himself to the world. You wrapped your arms around his broad back giggling ever so slightly as the size difference. He touched your cheek again and murmured.

“I love you.”

And this time, when you answered, it was with a kiss.

The morning was quiet.

Not the sharp silence of winter or the strained hush after battle—but a gentle, golden stillness. Outside the window, birds sang the first songs of spring. The scent of early blossoms drifted in through the open shutters.

And in the bed, tangled beneath the covers, lay both of you—with you curled at his side, your head tucked into the curve of his shoulder.

His arm was draped around you, warm and strong, making you believe it was the safest you had ever been.

You stirred first. Blinking slowly, you listened to the rhythm of his heartbeat beneath your cheek. You smiled before your eyes even opened.

“You’re awake,” came his voice—rough with sleep but soft with affection.

“Barely,” you murmured. “ I don't want to leave this bed for the rest of the day.”

“Then don’t.”

He shifted slightly to press a kiss to your forehead, his beard scratching against your skin. “Stay,” he whispered.

“You won't hear me argue against that.”

He exhaled, and you felt the rise and fall of his chest, the way his hand moved to cradle your hip beneath the covers limbs entwined, heartbeats steady, breaths shared.

Warmth. Peace. A morning with nowhere to be but here, together.

“I never thought I’d have this again,” he said clinging you closer to hm.

You reached up to cup his cheek, drawing him down into a slow, sleepy kiss.

“You do now,” you whispered. “And I’m not letting you go.”

He smiled against your lips, and this time, he didn’t answer with words—only with another kiss, deeper than the first, full of everything neither of you needed to say anything.

#enjoy #catyo90 #new #reader insert #elendil #elendil x reader #the rings of power #fanfic

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catyo90 · 14 days ago

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Lingering Gaze.

A gift for @im-lad-ris

The golden autumn leaves shimmered in the soft glow of the stars, casting an ethereal light over Caras Galadhon. You stood upon one of the high flets, the cool night breeze rustling through your hair. It was a peaceful night, yet your heart was anything but calm.

Your gaze wandered across the walkways that wound between the great trees of Lothlórien, and as if drawn by an unseen force, your eyes found him—Haldir.

There he stood upon the bridge overlooking a silver stream, his posture ever watchful, ever poised. The moonlight kissed his fair features, illuminating the sharp elegance of his cheekbones, the solemn curve of his lips. He turned his head slightly, sensing your presence, and when his piercing grey eyes met yours, time seemed to slow.

It was not the first time your gazes had lingered. Over the seasons, stolen glances had become something of a secret language between you. Each glance held more weight than words ever could—unspoken longing, curiosity, something deeper, something that neither of you dared to name.

Haldir bowed his head in a silent greeting before he continued his patrol. And yet, before he turned away, you saw it—the hesitation, the fraction of a moment where he, too, wished to stay.

Days passed, and the silent dance between you continued. When you crossed paths in the training glades, his eyes would trace your form, lingering on your hands as they strung a bow, on your lips as you spoke to another.

At the feasts held beneath the trees, he always took a seat nearby, though never quite beside you. But when the songs of old were sung, when laughter filled the air, your gazes would meet across the firelight, and it felt as though you were the only two among the revelers.

One evening, as you wandered along the edge of the great forest, you heard footsteps behind you. You turned to see Haldir approaching, clad in silver and grey, his presence as steady as his aim.

“You walk alone at night,” he remarked. His voice, as always, was measured, but there was something softer beneath it.

“I find the stars speak clearer in solitude,” you replied with a small smile. “Do you not listen to them?”

He stepped closer, so near that you could see the faintest flecks of silver in his eyes. “I listen,” he said, his voice quieter now, “though as of late, my attention has been drawn elsewhere.”

Your breath caught. The space between you was so slight, yet it felt vast with the words left unsaid.

“Then tell me, Haldir,” you whispered, “where does your attention linger?”

For a moment, he did not answer. Then, with the utmost care, as if daring to shatter the moment, he lifted his hand to brush a stray strand of hair from your face. His fingers barely touched your skin, but the ghost of his touch sent warmth curling through you.

“Here,” he admitted, his voice just above a breath. “It lingers on you.”

What followed was a slow, deliberate courtship. He would find reasons to seek you out—offering to spar with you in the training fields, accompanying you on evening patrols, walking at your side. You, in turn, let your touches linger—brushing his arm as you passed, letting your hands meet when exchanging arrows, speaking his name with a softness that made him still.

One night, beneath the boughs heavy with moonlight, he brought you a single golden leaf, placing it in your palm with reverence.

“In the fading of all things,” he said, his fingers warm against yours, “this remains.”

You understood. Lothlórien, untouched by time, would one day diminish, as all things must. But this—what lay between you—this could remain, if only you both had the courage to embrace it.

And so, when he leaned in, his lips barely brushing yours, you did not pull away. Instead, you met him halfway, sealing the unspoken words in a kiss as soft as the whispering leaves, as endless as the stars above.

The stars above gleamed like shards of silver caught in the boughs of the trees. A hush had fallen over the elven city, the usual hum of whispered songs replaced by the quiet rustling of the wind.

You lay upon the soft bed of woven silk, wounded but alive. The battle against the encroaching forces of darkness had left its mark upon your body—a deep gash along your arm and a bruise blooming along your ribs. Though the healers had worked their craft upon you, the ache persisted, a dull reminder of the peril you had faced.

Yet even amidst the pain, your thoughts drifted to a pair of keen silver eyes, to a warrior whose presence had lingered at the edges of your life, always just beyond reach. The warrior who saved your life on the battlefield with precision in his blade and worry in his heart.

Your fingers traced the bandages wrapped around your arm as you exhaled softly, trying to will yourself to sleep. The glow of lanterns flickered from outside, casting gentle shadows across the room. The night was tranquil, yet rest eluded you. It was then, just as your eyelids grew heavy, that you sensed it—a presence at the threshold.

The rustle of fabric, a step so silent it might have been the whisper of the wind.

Then, his voice, low and smooth.

"You should be resting."

Your heart stilled for a fraction of a moment before resuming its rhythm, stronger than before. Propped upon your elbows, you turned your gaze to the doorway, where Haldir stood bathed in silver light. He had shed his armor, clad instead in the soft robes of an elf at ease, though his posture remained vigilant. His hair, pale as moonlight, cascaded over one shoulder, framing the sculpted planes of his face.

"So should you," you murmured, lips curving into a small, knowing smile.

A flicker of amusement ghosted across his face before he stepped forward, closing the distance between you. The scent of the woods clung to him—the crisp air of the trees, the faint traces of elderflower and rain-kissed earth. He knelt beside your bed, his gaze sweeping over you with careful scrutiny. It was not the impersonal look of a warden ensuring a soldier’s well-being, but something far more intimate.

"I wished to see how you fared," he admitted, voice softer now. "You fought bravely."

Your fingers twitched at your side, aching to reach for him, to brush away the worry that lingered behind his calm facade. "I had to."

"That it is. But I would not see you harmed again."

Your breath hitched at the quiet intensity in his words. "You cannot promise that, Haldir."

He exhaled sharply, as if frustrated by the truth of it. And then, before you could second-guess yourself, you reached out, your fingers grazing the back of his hand where it rested on the edge of the bed. His skin was cool to the touch, yet it sent a warmth unfurling through you.

For a moment, he did not move. But then, ever so slowly, his fingers turned beneath yours, twining them together in a grip so gentle it made your chest ache.

"Then allow me this," he murmured. "To stay with you a while longer."

You nodded, the unspoken longing between you settling into something quieter, something real. And as the night stretched on. The night deepened, and though the world outside remained hushed, within the sanctuary of your room, something shifted. The tension that had lingered between you and Haldir for so long could no longer be ignored. His touch, so careful at first, grew bolder as his fingers traced the length of your arm, skimming over the linen of your nightclothes with reverence.

"I have watched over you for so long," he whispered, his breath warm against your cheek. "And yet I have never allowed myself to want."

You turned toward him, lifting your hand to his face, your fingertips brushing along the elegant curve of his jaw. "And now?"

He exhaled slowly, his forehead resting against yours. "Now, I can no longer resist."

The first kiss was hesitant, a question unspoken. But as your fingers tangled in his hair and you pulled him closer, the restraint between you broke like a dam giving way to the river’s surge. His lips were soft yet urgent, his hands exploring the curve of your waist, the dip of your spine. He treated you as if you were something precious, something fragile despite the strength he knew you carried.

The layers between you fell away, piece by piece, until only skin remained—a contrast of warmth and cool moonlight. Haldir moved with the patience of a guardian and the devotion of a lover, reverent and unhurried, savoring every moment as if it were his last.

As the night stretched on, your bodies became entwined like the roots of the very trees—bound together in ways neither words nor time could sever. And when at last the world settled once more into quiet stillness, he held you against him, his fingers tracing idle patterns against your skin, as if memorizing every inch of you.

"I will always find my way back to you," he murmured, pressing a final kiss against your temple before sleep finally claimed you both.

The golden light of dawn filtered through the curtains, casting soft patterns upon the floor. You stirred, warmth curled around you, the steady rise and fall of a chest beneath your cheek grounding you in the present.

His arm was draped over your waist, his body relaxed in sleep. His silver hair tumbled across the pillows, catching the morning light like spun starlight.

You lifted your head slightly, watching the peaceful expression upon his face. He was beautiful like this, stripped of duty and solemnity, simply a man at rest beside the one he had chosen.

As if sensing your gaze, his eyes fluttered open, meeting yours with a softness rarely seen. A slow, contented smile curved his lips as he traced a lazy finger along the curve of your back. "Rest my love. I will be here when you wake."

You smiled, pressing a lingering kiss to his collarbone. "I would not wish to be anywhere else."

With a quiet hum of contentment, he pulled you closer, letting the hush of the morning wrap around you both like a whispered promise of all that was yet to come.

#catyo90 #new #romance #lotr #haldir #enjoy #haldir x reader #reader insert

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