celebrimbormylove

[celebrimbormylove]

STOP this is so cute my heart is BURSTING 😭❤️

stargazing | celebrimbor

HUZZAH A S2 gif

@pentaghasm and I have been playing ideas off each other for a fun project I'm working on, which will be revealed here within the next month. in the meantime, let's clear out the ideas I've had in my drafts for 3 months!

i intended this to be a drabble and it FAILED lol

tag: @celebrimbormylove @thesolarangel @ladyoflindon @erebusbabylon - let me know if you want to be tagged!!

***

Time passes. You find out that the more you and Celebrimbor spend time together, the more comfortable you feel and the more willing you are to initiate the physical contact he so clearly desires. It's so easy with him.

A soft knock at his forge door late in the evening beckons a new idea: Stargazing. Hopefully, it has the intended effect.

"Celebrimbor?"

It takes a moment for him to reach the door and answer to, but when he does, Celebrimbor brightens at the sight of you. "My love, come in!" He exclaims, ushering you inside and then frowning once he realizes you might not be making a social call. "It's late... are you well? Or has something happened?"

You shake your head. "No no, nothing is wrong, love. I wanted to ask you something."

He relaxes visibly and smiles. "You may ask me whatever you want."

"The stars are particularly clear outside. Would you-" You shuffle nervously on your feet. "Would you like to come out and gaze with me? I've found a spot over the last few times I've done this. I'd like to share it with you."

He's pleasantly surprised by your request, and his face shows it. "I would be honored to," Celebrimbor remarks. "Lead the way."

Before you approach the door, you extend your hand expectantly. There is a moment when Celebrimbor just stares down at it, his brain working overtime to try and lift his own. His fears and insecurities swirl within his mind, but he finally finds the ability to move his fingers and feel the warmth of your skin on his.

It's heavenly, it is addictive. How has he gone this long without it?

You grin. That's a good step forward. "Come on, I think you'll love this. You may want to grab your cloak." You reach upward to throw the hood of your own over your head, fingertips brushing the holly leaf hairpin he'd helped you craft several months before.

Celebrimbor follows you out of the forge willingly, in the process of unfolding his own cloak so he can put it on. His own holly leaf pin stands proud against his collarbone.

He frowns as he realizes you are heading towards the city gates.

"Wait, wait-" He calls. "Where is this spot?"

"Shhh... You'll see. It's not too far out." You absently wave your hand over your shoulder at the buildings looming about the two of you. "There is no suitable spot in the city to get the view you see out here."

You come to a stop outside of the city gates. Knowing that you are within Celebrimbor's charge, the guards are familiar with you and the fact you are constantly in and out of the city. They know your spot. They know that you frequently leave here in search of quiet, of peace.

They also know you are always armed.

Celebrimbor follows you out of the city, eyes darting around in the darkness. A part of him is yelling that that they should not be out here without guards, and not when it's this dark out. He curses himself for not having thought to bring anything to defend them should the worst happen.

So enveloped in his own worries, Celebrimbor doesn't realize where you are leading him until the two of you come to a stop.

"Hey, we're fine out here. I promise. I come out here almost every night." Whispering softly in Quenya, you lean forward toward the fireflies at your feet who brighten at your command. It is not enough light to hide the view above them, but it provides a dim enough glow for them to see one another. "Look up, Celebrimbor."

Celebrimbor drags himself out of his head and does as you ask. Suddenly, his own fears are the last thing on his mind.

"This..." Celebrimbor falters as he looks over to you, eyes filled with warmth and quiet yearning. "I am honored you share this with me."

Black bleeds into midnight blue that covers an entire canvas of stars above you. The river echoes in the distance, a quiet bubbling of water that flows around Eregion.

You motion to the ground. "The grass is dry and the cloaks are warm. will you lay with me?" The words are out before you can take them back, and your cheeks redden at the implication and how it will likely frighten him. You want him so badly to feel safe like you do around him.

Celebrimbor wills himself to not think of the other ways your words can be interpreted. It was highly irregular for the Lord of Eregion to be out past dark without guards, let alone with an unchaperoned elleth. He quashed any thoughts of propriety by reminding himself you were different.

You settle yourself against his side with comfortable ease, extending your hand for his after resting your head on his shoulder. "Let me see your hand," You said. "I have many tales to tell about these stars, but you cannot leave without being able to recognize them. It would be most unfortunate."

Celebrimbor gives you his hand without question, though he wonders what that has to do with the stars.

You smile down at him and drag your fingers across his palm before asking, "Is this okay? I don't want to do anything that makes you uncomfortable."

Celebrimbor suppresses a shiver and instead smiles at you reassuringly. "I promise you that you never make me feel uncomfortable."

You note his response and lean inward to press a kiss to his cheek before beginning to point out each constellation.

The feel of your fingers against his palm was one thing, but your lips? On his cheek? Celebrimbor isn't sure how to react. Does he kiss you back? On the cheek? Lips?

Does he just smile and shrug it off as you tell him about the stars?

His heart hammers loudly in his chest, which makes it difficult to discern anything you're saying. He swallows hard to regain his control once more.

"Hey," You say softly. You're propped up on your elbow over him, one hand on his chest, brow furrowed in concern. "Where did you go?"

Celebrimbor curses himself inwardly. Of course you noticed. How could you not? You notice everything about him.

"Forgive me," He murmurs, looking up at you. "I sometimes have difficulty getting out of my own mind." He lifts your joined hands and gently kisses the back of your own. "Please, continue."

You frown but settle back down, continuing to use your joined hands to point out the stars. There's a quiet passion behind your words, an aching familiarity for something you can't quite put your finger on.

When your voice falters off, you shiver and tighten your arms around yourself.

"Are you cold?" Celebrimbor asks. He is already sitting up and reaching for his cloak so he can wrap it around you. It's as warm as he is, and it smells like him, and you want nothing more than for him to wrap his arms around you.

A soft sigh breaks past your lips as his fingers press against your shoulders. "Thank you." You murmur, meeting his eyes over our shoulder. "For coming with me."

"I'm honored you thought of me, my dear. It does me well to get out of the city every now and then, I think." He smiles warmly at you. "It is more enjoyable in your company."

You tilt your head at him. "Will you walk me home?" You ask softly.

Celebrimbor lets out a bark of laughter. "As if I would let you walk back alone in the dark of night," There's a mischievous glint in his eyes as he teases you. "You must think me some unfeeling cad."

You smile and wrap your arm through his own. "Oh no," You argue. "You are my heart's protector. You are quite the opposite of unfeeling. Lead me home, love."

"L-Love?" Celebrimbor repeats, completely dumbfounded at the endearment. Between the burn of your touch and the ache in him at your obvious deeper affections, he's not sure how to process all of this at once. The two of you haven't spoken at length about deeper feelings yet.

His are anchored to your soul, your existence, your smile.

All of you.

Awe flashes across your face at his confusion. He really does not understand how he too is worthy of the love he so often gives to everyone else. "Celebrimbor," You close the space between the two of you and reach for his hands. "It is a mere term of endearment for someone who knows how much I care about him by now. I could also say sweetheart, or my love if you want."

Your teasing tone eases the pounding of your own heart. It's equally as frightening for you as it is for him.

Celebrimbor clears his throat, pushing back the swelling emotion that threatened to come up his throat, and takes your hand in his. "Forgive me, I was simply unprepared. I will take any endearment you offer." He gestures back toward the city. "Might I escort you home?"

"Always."

He leads you back into Eregion and to your abode that he'd set aside for you in your earliest days of living in the city. It is not far from his own, and that is what you prefer.

When you arrive at your door, you turn and pull your hood down to properly look at him. He is the picture of beauty - all unkempt curls and soft eyes - as he patiently waits for you to go inside.

"I..."

Words fail you for the first time that night. You instead allow your actions to speak for you, stepping into Celebrimbor's space to stand on your tiptoes and cup his jaw with your hand as you kiss his cheek.

You linger just a little bit longer than before. His breath shudders beneath your fingers as you part, and your eyes fall on his parted lips as you step toward the door.

"Would you like me to join you for breakfast tomorrow?" You ask.

His eyes brighten. Celebrimbor is nothing if not one for his routine. "I would love nothing more," He replies, lips parting in that brilliant smile reserved for you that often makes your knees weak. "Sleep well, love."

You watch him go with a fierce ache in your heart.

Love.

[celebrimbormylove]

I LOVE this, we need more soft and sweet Gil-Galad fics 😭❤️

To be Held | Gil-Galad

Summary: You are Gil-Galad's most trusted warrior. With the centuries of history between you two - and the multiple wars you have both survived before and during his rule - it is hard for you to ignore the obvious: You are his complement, his other half, the shield to his sword. You two work as a unit. Everyone in Lindon knows it.

So what happens when he comes close to losing half of that unit?

Set during S2 of ROP - loosely AU to episode 8 (we don't go into the courtyards of Eregion)

tag: @wild-typo-turtle @celebrimbormylove @pentaghasm

You are one of the earliest memories of his younger years as an ellon. The years where he'd been living in the Grey Havens under the watchful eye of the Shipmaster, a young Elf named Artanaro who had nothing left but himself and the clothes on his back.

You had become a soldier at a very early age, taking to the spear with a gracefulness and poise unlike any of your other comrades who served alongside you in the war. You were raised in the heat of battle. Armor was your skin. Your weapon, your hands.

He admired you deeply. Your training commander at the time had noticed that the two of you were the only ones to take to the spear, and so it came to pass that you were often paired together for spars.

For sparring, for the front, for training. The other Elves whispered about you and how formidable you were as a unit the fields of war.

“What will you call yours?”

You watched him turn the weapon over in his hands. Once, twice, three times, long fingers flexing as it spun for him to properly admire the craftsmanship of the spear that had just been granted to him.

“Aeglos,” The Elvish word rolled off his tongue with an awe that made you shiver. You knew as well as he did that he would be known for being Aeglo’s wielder, among what other accomplishments he took to throughout his years. “It has a number of meanings, Mellon. For this one, however, I think snow thorn is more than appropriate.”

It fits him.

You averted your gaze away from him, desperate to keep your composure as you peered down at the spear in your own hands. He had such a deeply penetrating gaze. That unnerved you. You had to be unflappable. Something such as affection or love could not dare to make you weak.

You would not risk weakness on the field. You would not risk having something to lose.

“I think I have its name,” You announced. “I’ll call it Telmnar.”

Ereinion tilted his head curiously. He was not familiar with that term. “And what does that translate to?”

“Fire of Heaven.”

As the years passed, you took to chaos and disorder. Ereinion Gil-Galad took to the art of ruling much, much later in life with a firm hand and a soft heart. He never lost his spirit. Neither did you.

On the field, the pair of you were a force to be reckoned with. One unit. That’s what Elrond had said the first time he’d seen the two of you fight in the sparring yards of Lindon.

Gil-Galad just hadn’t expected the paralyzing fear that came with nearly losing the other half of your unit.

He sees you fall from across the battlefield. There are so few of you left, so many Elven bodies that litter the grounds of a scorched battlefield that Gil-Galad is sure will be their ruin. Elrond is catatonic over the Dwarvish army. You are fueled by your fury, helm hiding the fire he knows lights your eyes as you spin Telmnar with all the grace of poise of a practiced soldier.

Despite the destruction, you are the most beautiful thing he's ever seen. That is why Ereinion is so shaken when he sees the blade pierce your side through the gaps in your armor. A roar echoes across the battlefield as you twist your body to dismember the offending orc, Telmnar faltering in your grasp as it impales the body at the same time you fall to the earth.

Everything seems to blur together after that. Elrond is the one to rush toward you once clarity reaches him once again, removing the chest piece of your armor to better ascertain the severity of your injuries.

"Ereinion," You whisper. "Tell Ereinion..."

Telmnar gleams out of the corner of your eye as a hand reaches down to remove the spear from the body before laying it down beside Aeglos. They really are beautiful blades: A perfect pair for the best unit that the Elven armies had ever seen.

“Tell him what?” Elrond asks. He wants to keep you awake for as long as possible before blood loss sends you into unconsciousness.

Tears prick the back of your eyes. You’ve spent centuries trying so hard to keep your weaknesses out of harms way, to bury that secret you have kept of growing affections for Gil-Galad so he too would not come to be a name among the list of those you’ve loved and lost.

“He was never my weakness,” You whisper. “He was always my strength.”

"We may have lost many today, sweet friend," Elrond's voice is the only thing keeping you awake as he works to staunch the flow of blood from your body. "But you will not be among them."

You think of Gil-Galad, of Celebrimbor and Arondir, of Galadriel. They will not be able to take Adar on their own. They will need all the men they can muster.

Your innate desire to protect those you love is what coaxes you to move amid Elrond's healing, but not before a firm hand presses you back down into the ground and cradles your head in its embrace. Your eyes slowly shift across the open expanse of sky above you until your gaze falls on the dark eyes of the High King of the Noldor.

“Don’t move.” He commands, firm but soft as his fingers flex around your shoulder. “We will work diligently. Rest.”

Relief washes over you as you raise your fingers to graze his cheek. All you can see is blood and dirt, none of that smooth pale skin you’ve grown so accustomed to over the years.

He’s murmuring something low in Quenya as his hand comes upon your wound, and your eyes roll back into your head as Gil-Galad’s healing begins to seal what damage has been done. Elrond stands beside in waiting for the administration of bandages and salves so it will heal well.

The fingers of his free hand card through your hair as you fall unconscious in Gil-Galad’s capable hands.

***

When you first wake, there is a song on the wind. You’re being carried on a stretcher through what appears to be a path through a valley with elves on either side of you.

Panic rushes through your body until you recognize the voice that the wind carries. Gil-Galad has known since you were young that music was one of your only means of coping as it often brought you such serenity. Especially if the music came from him, his lips, his soul.

“Be well, my friend.” It is Camnir’s voice you hear closest to you instead as his face comes into view at your feet. Why the cartographer is here, you remain unsure, but your exhaustion is softened by the sight of his young face. “The High King is nearby. You are safe. I will wake you once we arrive at our destination.”

Your windpipe feels as if it has been pressed upon and your mouth forced open to swallow handfuls of sand. Despite that discomfort, you swallow and ask, “Is he safe?”

Camnir nods. “Indeed. Be peaceful. We are nearly there.”

You fall asleep once again with Aeglos and Telmnar on your mind.

***

There is warmth the next time you wake.

You’re careful not to aggravate your wound as you slowly shift your weight and rub your hands over your eyes to adjust to the dim light of the tent. Night has fallen, as you can tell from the shadows outside, but you did not expect to find The High King fast asleep with his hand gently laying on top of yours.

You smile. Not many are privileged to see him like this. It reminds you of your younger years, when you and Ereinion were just getting to know one another during your time in the Grey Havens. The pair of you had been far more curious than Círdan had cared for. The Shipwright had never complained. He simply remained grateful that someone cared as much for his charge as you did.

Gil-Galad shifts as you slowly kick your legs off the cot and reach outward to card your fingers through his hair. “Ereinion,” You whisper. Dark eyes flutter open and widen as he realizes you are awake, and it takes all of his willpower not to ask you a million questions as you hold a hand up to silence him. “Are you okay?”

The crease between his brow deepens as you run your thumb along his jaw.

“I believe it should be me asking you that,” He replies quietly. “You gave me quite a scare. I do not think I have experienced fear such as that watching you fall since we were young.”

Your earnest expression crumples almost instantly. “Gil-Galad-“

“You told Elrond to tell me something,” Now fully awake, the High King of the Noldor shifts his seat so that he’s planted directly in front of you, hands hovering over your thighs as he settles into the natural part of your legs. “What was it?”

Your mind shifts back to the early days. The days before the wars had ruined you, had cost the lives of so many people you loved, when it was just you and Ereinion against the forces of darkness and those who tried to tear you down.

The perfect unit, they’d called you.

Ereinion holds his breath as your hand, shaking as it may be, extends towards him to cup his face. “Do you remember all those years ago when I told you that the likelihood of me taking a partner was slim because I was not willing to have a weakness that could distract me on the battlefield?” You ask. He nods, transfixed by your face as your fingers gently trace the line of his jaw. “I’ve had one for centuries now. I have just never breathed a word about it.”

Hope flickers behind those dark eyes. “Do not utter that which you do not wish to come to fruition, nin meld.”

“Why?”

You dip your head down, fingers tangling in dark hair as he tips his head up to hover mere inches above your mouth. Your heart pounds with anticipation as you both waver against the line that was drawn centuries ago: the line that will forever change the two of you once you dare to take that risk.

“Because once you do, you can’t take it back.” Gil-Galad utters so softly you almost don’t hear it.

“I could not take back my affections for you. I would not dare. You’ve had my heart since Círdan introduced us. You are my weakness… and you are my strength, my hope-“

His kiss is bruising as he closes the gap between the two of you, surging upward to stand to his feet and cup your face in his hands. He is so much taller than you that you have to crane your neck to properly kiss him, but you don’t think you could ever quite tire of the fire behind which he kisses you.

“You are my salvation from this wretched life,” Ereinion whispers, relishing in the sweet sound of your whimper as he holds you there, helpless to do nothing but allow his mouth to trail across your jaw and down your neck. He is mindful to not aggravate your injury further lest Elrond have his hide for doing so. “And so I take that weakness willingly if it means I have the privilege to love you all my days.”

You smile sweetly at him and nod as his trail ends at your forehead before you part.

“You’re tired.” You point to the cot beside you that’s open. “Bring that over here.”

“I have to attend to duties elsewhere-“

You give him a pointed look. “Cleaning Aeglos and Telmnar can wait. There’s so many of us injured, and you cannot attend to your duties without having a few hours of sleep. You cannot function.”

He hesitates before acquiescing to your demand. Galadriel is being tended to by Elrond, Arondir is coordinating patrols, and the rest of Eregion’s survivors are taken care of at least for the night. He will sleep much more peacefully - and hopefully avoid nightmares about Celebrimbor - being able to feel your breathing under his fingers.

“Very well.”

When Elrond comes looking for his King, he is not surprised to find him with you, but he is surprised to find that Gil-Galad has indeed fallen asleep in the cot beside yours. You are sitting up in your own cot drinking the mint tea provided by the healers with a smug expression on your face as you meet his eyes.

Your other hand loosely cards through Ereinions hair as he moves himself closer to your leg, forehead pressed against your knee in sleep.

“Should I ask?” Elrond queries, laughing quietly under his breath as you playfully narrow your eyes.

“Keep walking, Peredhel. Nothing to see here.”

He will allow his King that respite for tonight. He deserves the comfort of being held by someone he loves.

[celebrimbormylove]

“Marry me then” OK BET???? FUCK HELLO!??? I LOVE THIS ‼️‼️‼️

Twilight | Elrond Peredhel

You guys asked for an Elrond piece, so here's another one! This one will go into the drabbles on my masterlist. I haven't had much inspiration for fics for him (that means if you do, drop that into my inbox PLEASE)

prompt: elrond/you and twilight

tag: @thesolarangel @celebrimbormylove @ladyoflindon @pentaghasm

***

For all the things you have known him as over the years, you have never associated Elrond with darkness. He is the living embodiment of kindness incarnate, wrapped within the confines of an elven body that's also just a little bit too human for his own comfort. The light shines from the very heart of him. It is what makes him so alluring. So... beautiful.

Kind as summer, they say.

''What are we doing out here, my love?"

Where Elrond is kindness and light, you are gentleness and beauty personified. Gil-Galad has said for quite some time now that the two of you are the perfect complement for one another. You have endured the darkest of times, the deepest of grief, the heaviest of guilt and shame.

Yet here you are. Hand in hand, standing on the cliffs of Imladris above the wildflower fields as twilight peaks just over the trees on the other side of the river.

"I thought we could bask in the coming twilight together. Just us. Away from our responsibilities," Elrond teases. Your brow arches slightly to convey your disbelief as he grasps your hands and drags you down the hill toward the wildflowers. He has been so invested in rebuilding within the weeks following the Fall of Eregion that the two of you have scarcely seen each other, seeking the other out in the dead of night when sleep alludes you. "Just us. I miss us."

You smile and run your thumb along the back of his hand as the pair of you come to a stop. The twilight bleeds into the skies above you, casting red and purple shadows across the flowers as you take his hand into your own and lead the other to anchor against your waist.

Something lightens in him then: Something that he's been carrying for far too long that Elrond has been unwilling to let anyone else bear but him alone.

"We are eternal, Elrond. All that is us is eternal. The love we have shared across these years is eternal." You whisper. Your voice carries in the silence of the valley around you as you inch closer and press your toes into the dirt to be able to kiss him. Elrond tilts his head, lips parting of their own accord as he deepens your kiss and curls his tongue around your own. You don't know who is making those little, broken sounds of desperation and desire. It's probably both of you. You pull away first, grinning at him as he runs his thumbs across the apples of your cheeks.

"You believe me one that you could tolerate for all eternity, my dear?"

You would altercate and bleed at the very hands of the Valar themselves if it meant you would be granted the rest of your life to spend with Elrond Half-Elven.

"I would."

You hum softly as Elrond leans in, nuzzling your temple with his nose before he whispers in your ear, "Marry me then."

Gil-Galad stands vigil at the crest of the hill, idly twisting VIlya on his finger as he watches you leap into Elrond's arms, joyous laughter echoing across the fields as the pair of you stumble among the wildflowers.

"It was as I said, Celebrimbor," The High King murmurs quietly to himself. He can almost feel the presence of his dearest friend still lingering at his side if he focuses hard enough. "All we had to do was wait."

[celebrimbormylove]

first kiss | celebrimbor

I cannot find ANY gifs of him in s2 and it's driving me nuts

anyway have some rapid fire drabbles (anything under 1K is a drabble for ME lol but I know they're supposed to be 500 or less sH) - @pentaghasm inspired this one

***

He's been staring at the sketches he's drawn of you for what feels longer than appropriate. You have barely left Celebrimbor's side since you arrived in Eregion mere weeks ago. He's shifted his whole life around you. Around your care, your presence in his Forge, the lack of memories, and your struggles in finding out who you are as a person.

He's not concerned about who you were or what you've done before meeting him. What Celebrimbor is concerned about is the deeply rooted affections that he knows he feels deep in his heart. They have only grown fonder in the time the two of you have spent together. The cups of tea shared by the fireplace with the whispered, shameful words of exchanging histories about the House of Fëanor that he is certain you will judge him for just as everyone else does, as he is the last living descendant.

He's memorized every individual interaction down to the detail, but there's just something about that one that sticks in his mind's eye.

"You are not them. Just because you share the same blood does not mean you will make the same mistakes."

Celebrimbor is certain then that he's grown too comfortable around you, around his desires for companionship and his desperate need to no longer feel so alone. You are willing to give him your time and undivided attention because you are interested in him as a person, as Celebrimbor, and not as the Lord and the Greatest of Elven Smiths.

This line of thinking has wholly consumed him. Amid tonight's storm, Celebrimbor has sheltered inside the quiet of his Forge while the rest of the smiths have returned to their homes to be with their families. You previously mentioned going and spending time in the libraries to try and jog your memories with what little images you had to work with before leaving him alone for the evening with promises to later return for tea.

His feet lead him out of the Forge and into the courtyard before Celebrimbor can properly process that it is raining. The path ends at the doors to the Library where he stops short and freezes once he realizes you've opened the door before he thought to knock upon it.

You're wearing his robes. The ones he'd given you your first night in the city. The red ones. They're his favorite.

"Celebrimbor," You muse softly as you drum your fingers against the doorway. "You're soaking wet. What-"

"You have consumed me," Your eyes widen as the words stumble past his lips, and he cannot help himself. "Thoughts of you have consumed me and will not seem to stop. You are the only Elf to cross into these gates that has embraced me as Celebrimbor, without looking for the Greatest of the Elven Smiths or the Lord of Eregion. I-"

You peer up at him now, wet hair clinging to your face as you step fully out of the shelter of the doorway and into the rain that falls upon you both. Your fingers idly reach for his own and squeeze when you recognize the sharp intake of breath at such a simple offer of touch.

"What do you want, Celebrimbor?" You ask softly.

"I want the pleasure of asking if it is okay to kiss you, my Lady. I have been wishing for it for quite a while now."

The color of your cheeks darkens as you nod, and he is upon you, in your space, trembling fingers slotting against the curve of your jaw before you surge upward to meet his mouth halfway. Something broken echoes in the back of his throat when you pull on his robes to tug him closer, curling your own fingers into the wet curls that press against his temples before Celebrimbor forces himself to pull away and allow you both to breathe.

You make a note to remember how often Celebrimbor reacts to even the simplest exchange of touches: A graze of your fingers across the backs of his hands, embracing him in a hug, simply even holding his face in your hands.

Celebrimbor has gone starved of affection for too long.

His kiss is deep and warm and full of longing, as every moment with him has been since you've arrived.

"That..." You whisper, hesitant to pull any further apart as your breath fans his face. His fingers are so warm where they rest against your cheeks. You realize then that you want him to touch you, to always touch you, to feel that warmth that shines from the depths of his soul in every part of you it can reach. "That was wonderful. You are wonderful."

Celebrimbor grins before he tugs on the cuffs of the too long sleeves that cling to your body with rain water.

"I appreciate your affinity for stealing my clothing."

"Stealing? You gave these to me, if memory serves right." You chide, laughing as he links his fingers with yours and leads you back in the direction of the Forge. Joy is a look that you need to see more often from him. "I think I wear this color quite well. Don't you agree?"

There's a confidence in his step as Celebrimbor sweeps you inside of the Tower with his arm wound around your waist, face inches from your own as you rest your hand on his chest.

Growing affections indeed.

"They look far better on you than they ever did on me, beloved," You grin and swoop in to place a kiss on his cheek, laughing as you skip up the stairs to dart into the Forge toward the fire so the two of you can dry in its warmth. "But I would appreciate them not being ruined by the rain. Let us have our tea and let the robes dry by the warmth of the Forge."

You frown.

"I don't have anything to wear right now, Celebrimbor-" You protest. He has the audacity to look smug. "Oh. Oh, you are evil-"

The Elven Smith holds up his newest prize, a stunning green and gold cloak he's had specifically commissioned for you. He flutters his lashes innocently.

You're done for.

"A kiss for a cloak then, hm?"

[celebrimbormylove]

RIP Sauron you would have loved Forged in Fire.

[celebrimbormylove]

This is so beautiful like???? I’m crying????

The Prophecy | Celebrimbor

Guys. The brainrot is all consuming. Send help.

I was listening to the Tortured Poets Department the other day and felt like this really fits with what I’ve written for him so far. I know I’m writing this plot out of order, but it will eventually all make sense. I am still training at work, and while that constitutes nothing for me, it means I have too much time on my hands.

This will fit into the 3 part fic called Where Are You? that will cover 2x06-2x08. I haven't rewatched 2x08 yet, but that's coming. I have so many ideas for you guys that I may just start rapid fire releasing the drabbles first.

next fic is for High King Gil-Galad

Secondly, this concept is turning into an OC fic. It will be on Ao3 by the end of this year!

Tag: @pentaghasm @celebrimbormylove @thesolarangel @wild-typo-turtle @ladyoflindon @sandwichmustbetasty

Song inspiration: The Prophecy - Taylor Swift

Prompt: You ruminate on what little you remember in your purpose of being in Eregion while Celebrimbor sleeps at your side. The Valar may grant mercy on occasion, but you wonder if this ends in doom for you both.

***

Things are beginning to come back in pieces. You aren’t exactly sure why. There are flashes of gentle eyes and gray hair. Whispered words in Quenya as you perfect your natural healing ability. Your name, the real one given to you, but you don’t remember by who. Not yet.

You prefer the name given to you by Celebrimbor.

Said elf lays beneath your palm, breathing steady even as he sleeps. You had been the one to seek him out for comfort this time. It was a rare night of him succumbing to sleep early, and so you had sought him out in desperation, aching for the comfort of Celebrimbor’s embrace to shelter you from your memories.

You’d forgotten until you’d fallen into his bed how far away he was. It didn’t matter that you could feel his heartbeat, or touch his skin. He was worlds away from you.

And all because of Annatar.

Now you lay here, head pillowed against his chest, fingers tracing shapes against his abdomen, too distracted by your racing thoughts to sleep. Annatar’s constant demands and high expectations in the crafting of the Rings had put you both on edge. Celebrimbor had been elusive as well. So much of his time was spent locked away in The Forge, just out of reach.

He’d never deny you. Not even with the distance between you both.

No one but you could feel the dark magic in that room. The shadows that shrouded the elf you love, even now, so suffocating that it remains difficult to breathe.

“Please,” You whisper. No one may be listening. You have no idea. You would beg whatever entity did listen for this. “Please do not let this end in doom.”

With the trajectory of what was occurring, you had been trying to fight the impending sense of doom lingering in your heart for weeks. The nagging feeling in the back of your head that you are to be preparing for a funeral for you or Celebrimbor by the conclusion.

Or both of you.

You shiver at the thought and bury your face in Celebrimbor’s shoulder. His arm tightens around you instinctively, like the elf you’ve fallen in love with still resides deep within the recesses of the mind he’s been made prisoner in.

Please, I’ve been on my knees

Change the prophecy

“He’s so good,” You whisper. “Everything he does is from the goodness of his heart. A kind heart.” You hold your breath as your tears collide with Celebrimbor’s skin, causing him to shift beneath you and press his face into your hair with a quiet grumble. You don’t dare speak again until you’re sure he’s asleep. “All of Celebrimbor’s intentions have been pure. He wants to do right by his people and rectify the sins and shortcomings of the House of Fëanor. This should not end in ruin. Not his.”

Don’t want money, just someone who wants my company

Let it once be me

You wish you could pull him out. Use your magic to break through the darkness that has settled upon this city, settled upon him, and force your way through the walls Annatar has erected to keep him complacent. It is Celebrimbor’s own chains that keep him prisoner.

Chains built by pride and ambition.

No. If anything, Celebrimbor will have to awaken from the depths of this illusion when the stakes are too high and he has something to lose.

Who do I have to speak to

About if they can redo the prophecy??

You run your free hand to rest your fingertips against his temple, smiling against the curve of his cheek as Celebrimbor begins to stir beneath you. Heavy lidded eyes flutter open to meet your own. In those few moments of silence, you can see him.

“Why-“ Celebrimbor starts, cut off by a yawn as he buries his face in your neck and rolls to slot a leg between yours. The action has you blushing as you raise your hand to tangle your fingers in his hair. The action usually puts him right back to sleep. “It isn’t even dawn yet, love. Why are you awake?”

You contemplate an answer for several seconds. Part of you wants to tell him, to confide in him about that underlying fear of ruin, but you don’t. You don’t know what he’ll say if you directly mention Annatar.

You don’t even know if you could trust in him not repeating what you’ve said to Annatar.

So you instead allow him to place a lingering kiss at the corner of your jaw, humming softly as his fingers soothe your body's aches by massaging at your hip.

You’re so tired.

“Too much to ruminate on. My mind will not let me rest.” You reply. Celebrimbor frowns, the furrow in his brow deepening as concern flashes behind his eyes. “I will be fine. You sleep, my love. I will be here when you wake.”

Celebrimbor does not complain. He can't. Too many times have you been the one to hold him, to shelter him from the storm of his own mind as he wakes briefly enough to seek you out. Too many times have you been the one to leave food at his table, to bring him tea, to offer him your company when his solitude becomes too great to bear.

Too many times have you fallen back asleep while Celebrimbor wept in the silence.

You hear Celebrimbor whisper his, "I love you." before settling again, this time with his hand pressed against your stomach and his hair tickling your nose. The sheer vulnerability of being so willing to sleep in a position like this when you've been apart for weeks has tears burning the back of your eyes.

Who do I have to speak to To change the prophecy?

You hold him there on the precipice of sleep and allow, for just this moment, your fear to breach the surface.

"Please," You whisper. "Please, just this once, grant us mercy."

***

And far above the reaches of Middle Earth, she heard you.

The Lady of Mercy and Grief did not ignore the suffering of those who dared to reach for her.

[celebrimbormylove]

Awwwwwww Elrond, the man that you are 🥹

And Yet, Flowers Grow | Elrond Peredhel

As promised, a fluffy Elrond fic. It’s a little shorter then my usual oneshots. I will fix the formatting on this when I get home. I don’t usually write from my phone but it is all I have today.

Enjoy! Prompt is flower crowns and a gala

@ladyoflindon @wild-typo-turtle @celebrimbormylove @pentaghasm

***

“You are simply thinking about this too hard, my dear friend,” Galadriel’s voice breaks the force of Elrond’s concentration as he kneels in front of his third bed of flowers among Lindon’s gardens. “You are as aware as I that anything you make will be dearly loved because it came from your hands.”

Galadriel had followed Elrond into the gardens after their meeting with the High King earlier that morning. Gil-Galad had informed them, his court, and his musicians of the gala taking place the next night to unite the different groups of Elves under a common banner.

And it was also to take away from the impending threat of war.

Elrond shakes his head and runs his fingers across the petals of a lily. “No,” He murmurs. “No. It has to be perfect. Even for something as simple as this. They are the focus of the music this evening.”

“So you wish for all eyes to be drawn to your beloved?”

“Well, when you put it that way-“

His eyes fall upon a hidden bed of flowers deeper in the garden that had been overlooked during his initial surveillance of the gardens as a whole.

The flowers he pulled were a perfect mix of red, orange, pink and yellow, identical to the outfit you would be wearing for the gala this evening.

Galadriel smiles as he turns to her with a fist full of flowers pressed carefully against his chest. She has her own in her hands, her own flowers she’s pulled as they remind her of Elrond’s eyes.

If you’re going to be wearing a crown, so is he.

Pacing was not helping.

You had not been acutely aware of the gala until earlier that morning when Gil-Galad had informed his court and his musicians of the intent behind holding this in Lindon. What you’d been less aware of was your own role as the head musician, which was an honor to be bestowed among the best but also would mean that all eyes and attention would be on you.

It should not have been as anxiety inducing as it felt. The pit in your stomach had only grown heavier since you’d returned to your chambers, and Elrond had been nowhere to be seen since the meeting this morning held in front of the Great Tree.

You were in over your head.

“Dear friend.. you two are perfect for each other.” You whip around and sigh in relief at the sight of Galadriel, who is lingering just inside the doorway to your chambers. “You both are chronic overthinkers. What troubles you?”

Galadriel had become a good friend since Elrond had introduced you to her. You found yourself confiding in her more times often then not, as she was older and wiser then yourself as well as having a much more extensive relationship and history with Elrond. You value her input, and you value her judgement.

“I worry about the gala. I-“ You swallow the knot in your throat and wring your hands harder, ignoring the ache in your fingers as you do so. “I do not care to be the center of attention. I much more prefer being in the background. There’s less chance of a mistake that way.”

“My friend,” Galadriel begins as she catches your hands to hold them in her own. You hadn’t realized how much you needed the stability of another persons touch - a role Elrond often fell into - until you felt the tension seep from your shoulders. “You are a treasure. Even though you are not directly involved in the war effort against Sauron, your influence holds great weight. That is crucial to morale for soldiers and artisans and crafters alike. Your influence also holds great weight with Elrond. He adores you. Any mistake you may make does not matter in the grand scheme of things. You plant yourself on that stage and remember who you play for.”

Remember who you play for.

Elrond had been one of the only people to nurture and encourage your passions aside from your few actions with Celebrimbor. Any time you played, it was for him.

“Remember who you play for,” You repeat. “Thank you. Would you be willing to help me prepare for this gala? It will do wonders for my nerves.”

Galadriel was a soldier, a commander, and a fierce fighter. It was not often she was able to embrace her femininity. It was not often she found herself having a friend who she could simply be herself with.

Not until you.

She smiles. Her smile, when it’s genuine, could rival the brightness of the stars themselves. You often wonder if the embodiment of Light of the Valar lives within her.

“I would be honored. However, before I do that,” She begins, reaching behind her to produce an intricately woven crown of flowers she’s somehow kept concealed since entering. Your eyes widen as you lean forward, curious, and run your fingers across the flowers. “This is for you.”

Elrond.

***

“Be at peace, my friend. Have a drink. This is not meant to be a punishment.”

Elrond has been searching the crowd gathered at Lindon’s gala for what feels like years, dark eyes desperate to seek you out as you join the other musicians on stage. Galadriel’s instructions had been specific: be in sight, and wear the crown.

He looked ridiculous. She had been the one to weave it, and intricate circular design of dark navy petals that went around the entirety of his head. Galadriel had claimed it would compliment his hair and eyes well.

Like she’d know.

“I apologize, High King-“ Elrond interjects. “I have not seen my beloved all day, and it was at the behest of Galadriel that I wore this ridiculous garb. I-“

His breath catches in his throat as you come into view and address the crowd with a smile that makes his knees weak. Galadriel had told him before disappearing into the crowd that she’d assisted in getting you ready for this gala, and it shows. Elrond is transfixed by you.

Gil-Galad smiles around the rim of his glass. “It seems that the Commander of the Northern Armies wanted to put you both at ease,” He muses lightly. “By showing others in attendance that you belong to each other.”

Across the gap, your eyes find Elrond’s and brighten as you recognize the crown of flowers sat neatly atop his curls. The crown he’d woven for you earlier that morning in the Garden sits proudly atop your own head. You are the picture of beauty as you regard the crowd with a breathtaking smile and lift your violin to press your chin against the instrument.

And then off you go, lost in the music as your bow eases back and forth across the strings. Elrond is transfixed by how easy it comes to you.

Remember who you play for.

Your eyes follow him for the rest of the gala. You and the harpist are awarded what feels like hours upon hours of applause, and it is only when you are about to begin your next song that the harpist - a younger elleth named Löriel - stands to address the crowd.

“If you’ll give our dearest violinist another round of applause, I feel as if they deserve a break,” She announces as applause echoes before The Great Tree. You seek Elrond out in the crowd again, smirking as you find him sulking in the darkness of the night just outside of the firelight that illuminates the gala. “I will be leading this next song so as to give our violinist the opportunity to dance. Please, grab your loved one. This will surely be one you want to partake in.”

Celebrimbor clears his throat from where he stands beside Elrond, who is continuing to look particularly sullen where he idly sips at his wine. He’s never quite adjusted to being the Herald of the King and desiring to attend gatherings such as these. “My dear friend,” Celebrimbor murmurs lowly. “I believe someone is coming this way.”

You grin and bow lowly as Elronds head snaps upward. “Lord Celebrimbor,” You greet. Elrond is too fixated on your outfit - perfect representation through color and fabric of the gardens, which seems to be your favorite place in Lindon - to recognize your greeting. “Herald. My eyes are up here.”

Dark eyes flicker up to meet your own.

“Meleth nin,” Elrond breathes, a soft and airy sound that sounds distinctly like awe. “You are a sight to behold. I quite enjoy the crown. It complements the outfit.”

You peer down at your outfit. “Well, I did pick it as a reminder to who I play for,” You tease softly as you extend your hand toward Elrond. “Come dance with me.”

Elrond’s split second hesitation causes Celebrimbor to nudge him hard enough in the back that he practically stumbles into your embrace. For someone who’s supposed to be the Herald of the King, the Half-Elven cares little for politics.

Your fingers lace with his own as you disappear into the crowd.

***

“Why are you smiling at me?”

Your question breaks through Elrond’s focus as his eyes shift down to your own, tightening his grip on your waist as you lazily play with his curls.

Elrond leans inward and presses his hand to the flat of your back, pulling you in until you can feel his hips pressed against your own and the warmth of his breath at your ear. “Because you’re mine,” He whispers lowly in your ear. “And all of those around us now know so.”

“Didn’t the crowns give it away?” You inquire.

You move your head as he tilts his own upward, catching his mouth in a kiss that makes your knees weak as you catch the moan lingering at the back of his throat. It’s good that it’s loud enough with the other elves and the music to hide the sound.

Both your cheeks are red when Elrond pulls away. You run your fingers gingerly along the petals of his crown, savoring the way he seeks out the warmth of your hand and pulls it downward to place a kiss upon your wrist.

“You were phenomenal tonight.” He says softly. “A true crafter of the arts. I consider myself privileged to be yours.”

“You’ve discovered my secret, Elrond Peredhel.”

He raises a brow in surprise. “Oh?”

Feeling daring, you stand on your tiptoes as the swell of the music echoes around you both and kiss him hard, grinning at the startled sound of surprises that goes unheard beneath the cellist and the harpist who have taken your spot. When you pull away, both of you are breathless, and you lean up to murmur lowly in his ear.

“When I play? I play for you.”

You laugh as he weaves through the crowd, hand in yours, ready to continue that kiss far from prying eyes. His cheeks are as red as the flowers in your hair.

***

Gil-Galad is not one who considers himself easily entertained, but it has been quite interesting watching his Herald court his Cellist.

Celebrimbor seems to have the same thought.

“How much time do you give them before they’re coming to you to ask for an officiant of a wedding ceremony?” Celebrimbor teases, smirking around the rim of his glass as they watch you and Elrond disappear in the direction of Lindon’s palace. “I give them a month.”

Gil-Galad smiles. “I give them less.”

Celebrimbor turns and extends a hand. “Should we shake on it?”

“We shall.”

The two Elves shake.

Now it is simply time to wait.

[celebrimbormylove]

CELEBRIMBOR Grand-son of Fëanor — THE RINGS OF POWER: 2.06 (2022)

The Pride of Fëanor — The Notion Club Papers (2011)

[celebrimbormylove]

I’ve noticed a pattern in my writing where I always make Elrond the reader’s best friend XD

[celebrimbormylove]

Lemon Cakes

I just...I had an idea and I was emotional about S2E7 (beware spoilers!!) so I wrote a thing. We're not taking S2E8 into account, and we're assuming Brimby managed to escape from Eregion. Anyway, enjoy!

Cross-posted to AO3 here.

~*~

Celebrimbor (RoP) x Half-Elven Healer!Reader

[A/N: This contains mild references/innuendo so 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI!!!]

Warnings: Fluff, angst, yearning, mentions of blood, mentions of injuries, minor descriptions of the same, spoilers for RoP S2E7, crying, kissing, both think their feelings are unrequited but they're very requited, nudity, mild references to male anatomy.

~*~

I was so wrapped up in my thoughts and fears that I didn't bother noting where I was going. All of Eregion was safe, so it didn't truly matter which pathway I took. However, it still would have been wise to do so.

Wisdom wasn't exactly the foremost concern in my mind at that moment. Court whispers, idle gossip, occupational politics...those had unfortunately taken center stage as I hurried through - was I in Eregion's gardens? Grudgingly, I supposed that the hedges were a dead giveaway that I'd somehow wandered into them without realizing. I'd been drawn to them countless times over the decades that I'd lived in the city. Ending up there should not have been a surprise.

My mind dwelled - foolishly, perhaps - upon my worries. How was I supposed to ignore what they were saying? It wasn't as if the other healers were trying particularly hard to hide the fact that they despised me for my heritage. After all, in their eyes a Peredhel - one of Half-elven descent - could never do as well as someone who possessed only Elven blood. I'd trained under several of the best healers known to Elvendom, but still that was not enough for the wagging tongues attached to judgmental minds.

All I wanted was to help heal the injured, but because of my status, I was relegated to organizing supplies and sweeping the floors of the infirmary. Had I been given the chance to prove my worth and demonstrate my training, I might have been able to advance further. As it stood, however, I only had a few of the common families of Eregion who trusted me enough to tend to their wounds and ailments.

Despite my situation, I made an effort never to complain. I took what opportunities were offered and made do. After all, if I had complained, not only would I have been seen as ungrateful, but I would've been proven to be, in the eyes of those who disliked me, even weaker than I was already perceived to be. I was allowed to remain in Elven territory. Should that not be enough for one lowly Peredhel?

That didn't stop me from feeling frustrated, though. Overhearing the last of the other healers' insidious comments after a long day was what broke my resolve. As I wandered through the maze of shrubbery, hot tears rolling down my cheeks, I hated that I'd let them bother me this much. Was I truly so weak-minded that I could not handle a few insults? Surely, I must be.

"Are you alright?" A warm but tentative voice called, and I tried to quickly wipe away my tears. Whoever had been kind enough to check on me didn't need to be bothered by a weepy Elleth.

"Yes, of course," I called as I posted on a faux smile and turned to find– "Lord Celebrimbor! Forgive me, hir-nin."

I began to drop into a low, deferential curtsy, but a gentle hand grasped my shoulder, stopping me.

"Please, my lady, there is nothing you have done which requires an apology." Having only seen him from a distance, I'd never spoken to Lord Celebrimbor before. I hadn't expected his voice to be so kind. I looked up, and he smiled at me.

I had never been looked at with such radiant warmth in all my life. Words utterly failed me. I should have said something - anything - but I could not seem to speak.

The light of the setting sun created a golden aura around Lord Celebrimbor's head, making him look like a heavenly being sent by the Valar. For a moment, I forgot all about my frustration and grief.

Those closest to him must scramble for even a few moments with him. How could they not? The greatest of the Elven smiths was also the most attractive Elf I'd ever met.

"There we are," he murmured as my eyes met his. "Would you perhaps like to join me?"

For the first time, I noticed he was holding a plate of lemon cakes. He'd likely come out to the gardens to relax with a sweet treat, only to find a distraught mess instead.

"O-Oh, thank you, my lord, but, truly, I do not wish to intrude," I stammered, but he let out a gentle laugh that made my heart twist in my chest.

"I will not force you, of course, but you should know that I would welcome your company," he said, glancing between myself and the lemon cakes. "Over the years, I have found that something sweet can help lift the spirit. Besides, I don't think I should eat all of these myself. My tailor would be quite cross if he had to replace my entire wardrobe."

I doubted a figure like his could ever be diminished by the insignificance of a few lemon cakes, but the need for friendly companionship was so great within me that I allowed myself to take his not-so-believable excuse at face value.

"Only if you're certain, my lord." His smile widened, and he eagerly led me to a bench nestled between a pair of pink flowering dogwood trees. Once we were seated, I finally took a moment to observe my companion. Wearing deep blue velvet robes, delicately embroidered with beaded leaves and vines, Lord Celebrimbor of Eregion sat beside me with all the gravitas and dignity of a king. His gaze was as soft as his touch had been upon my shoulder.

But he was a lord, and one of the most skilled Elven smiths in history. I was only a Peredhel. No matter how handsome I found him, common people like me did not end up with nobility.

Distracting me from my sobering thoughts, Lord Celebrimbor offered me one of the little iced cakes. I couldn't help but smile at the slices of candied lemon decorating the top.

"I must admit," he murmured as I gratefully took one, "that sweets are somewhat of a weakness of mine. The bakers whose establishments I frequent across the city have become rather aware of the fact that this variety in particular are my favorite. I fear they quite effectively know how to convince me to part with my coin."

That fit him quite well, in my opinion. The brightness of the citrus, the sweetness that tempered the flavor...nothing could have suited his personality more fully. Those cakes were light and sunny, as was he.

After we'd eaten in peace for a time, conversing quietly between ourselves about everything and nothing, Lord Celebrimbor looked at me curiously.

"If you don't wish to discuss it, I promise you are under no obligation to do so, but is there someone to whom I should speak in your defense?" I looked at him in askance, and he gave a small smile. "'Tis heinous behavior to bring such a lovely lady to tears. If there is someone who requires a stern speaking to, please consider my services in that department most humbly offered."

His gaze was so earnest and concerned that I had to avert my own lest I tear up again. None had ever offered to come to my defense before, opting instead to suggest that I grin and bear it, or that I develop a thicker skin as comments like that were to be expected for one of such low, unworthy birth.

"You are very kind, my lord, but, truly, you needn't trouble yourself." I barely dared to look back over at him after a moment's pause. "After all these years, I should have developed a thicker skin."

Celebrimbor wiped his fingers on his handkerchief and leaned a little closer to me, clearly engrossed.

"About what, my lady?"

I hesitated. It was perhaps vain, but I did not relish seeing the kindness in his eyes melt away when he realized with what sort of person he'd been conversing. But there was nothing for it. One did not simply ignore the Lord of Eregion when he asked you a question, especially not when he'd been kind enough to offer you food, comfort, and company. As much as I wanted to run, I remained seated.

"I am Half-elven, my lord," I nearly whispered, dropping my eyes to my lap where I was wringing my hands nervously. "My heritage is...somewhat of a common topic of discussion, especially with regards to my abilities."

"Abilities?" He asked gently, and I nodded my head.

"I am a healer, my lord. I was trained by some of the most skilled Elves I have had the fortune to know," I elaborated. "Truly, I do not mind helping where I can, and if it were a simple matter of my skills not being necessary, I would not be quite so frustrated, but..."

I trailed off, unsure of how to express the rest of my thoughts without sounding pathetic and childish.

"...But you've been overlooked because of who your parents were," he finished sounding somber. "My lady, I am truly sorry that you have had to endure such unjust treatment. None should behave so dishonorably, especially not here in Eregion. After all, in Lindon, our High King's herald is Half-elven. Ability has nothing to do with blood, as my people should be aware. I daresay you've likely heard some unworthy remarks, as well, for which I can only apologize. My people should know better."

I expected pity or disdain when I finally dared to look up at him again, but instead, I found only a reassuring smile and warm eyes skimming my face.

"Thank you, hir-nin, for your kindness. There was no need for you even to speak with me, much less be in my company, but I am so very grateful that you did."

Celebrimbor's smile widened, and he caught one of my hands between both of his. I couldn't help but marvel at how large they were, and how strong the calloused pads of his fingers felt. He must work quite diligently at his craft.

"It has been my honor, I assure you."

He paused, looking unsure as if considering whether he should say what was on his mind.

"Do you know, my lady, I have seen you walking in the gardens before. I should have wished you a good day or stopped to say at least 'good morning,' but I...well, I did not wish to intrude upon your peace," he said, and I looked at him in awe. "You always seem so relaxed when you are amongst nature, strolling through the starlight. Oft in the evenings, I take a break upon the balcony of my tower, and I have the loveliest view of the moonlight cascading down upon you."

He'd seen me before? I hadn't been aware that he knew of my existence, much less remarked upon the walks I took to clear my head.

"I wish I had mustered my courage earlier, however, since I cannot change my prior cowardice, I would like to focus instead upon the future. Might I have the honor of knowing you better?"

How could I have possibly refused? Why would I? That evening had been the start of a friendship that I'd never expected to have. Celebrimbor was always courteous and warm with me, allowing me to see his forge and discussing his work with me.

He never admitted to any involvement, but I suspected that he was the reason why barely a week after our initial conversation I was allowed - finally - to put away my broom in the healers' halls and begin treating patients. Even the cruel whispers and rumors died down to only the most occasional instance.

The Lord of Eregion shared my joy when my skills were begrudgingly praised, delighting especially when one of Lindon's visiting generals bore witness to my work. He was so pleased with how I'd patched up a small squad of his soldiers that I'd received a letter of thanks from the High King himself by royal messenger not long after the general had reported home safely.

Celebrimbor had been so excited for me that he'd sent his smiths and apprentices home early and opened a bottle of wine in celebration. That night, it had been particularly difficult to tamp down my growing admiration for the gorgeous Ellon who'd been so kind to me. Undoubtedly, he'd never feel more for me than friendship, but my heart did not seem to grasp that particular fact. When he finally walked me to my door and bid me sweet dreams, I knew for certain that I was doomed to love one who could never return my feelings. I was content, however, to simply be around him.

As the years passed, I slowly climbed the ranks of Eregion's healers, eventually earning the grudging respect of my peers, and the one person who had believed in me from the start seemed no less proud of me than he had from the beginning. It was not uncommon, of a free evening, to find me curled up in the uppermost room of Eregion's tower, discussing my lord's latest projects or ideas, or sharing herbal tea and something sweet from one of Eregion's bakers.

Eventually, after about a century's residence in Celebrimbor's city, and after having spent about three quarters of that as his friend, he summoned me to his tower during one of my shifts in the healers' halls. That, in itself, was not uncommon. He and his smiths were rather prone to accidents, especially given the nature of their work. Celebrimbor always asked for me personally, and as this time was no exception, I gathered a bag of medical supplies and hurried to see what might have happened.

The Lord of Eregion had been quite consumed by his latest project, and, though it was a rare occurrence, he had not discussed it once with me. I'd thought it strange that he was being so secretive, but after all, he was the Lord of Eregion first and foremost. He owed me no explanations. I thought nothing of it.

When I arrived, however, instead of seeing the forges blazing and the smiths all chattering about their work, I found only Lord Celebrimbor seated beside one of the windows, holding a letter in his hand. His forges were stone cold, and a sad, worried sort of expression played across his face.

"My lord?" I called quietly, hovering in the doorway. I felt as though I was intruding upon something private to which I ought not be a witness, but he had summoned me. I could not keep him waiting. At my quiet question, he looked up and plastered what I easily recognized as a forced smile across his lips. "You asked for me?"

"I did, mellon-nin," he said, gesturing for me to come closer. "Come, sit with me."

I did as he asked, setting my bag at my feet and looking at him curiously as I perched beside him on the divan.

"Are you hurt?" I could see no evidence of an injury, but he'd hidden them quite well before.

"Oh, no. No, forgive me. I hope I did not worry you," he said patting my arm gently. "Actually, this morning I received a rather important letter from High King Gil-Galad."

Silently, he held the folded parchment out to me, and I accepted it carefully. The King's seal was unmistakable upon the outer fold. My eyes skimmed the neat, swirling hand in which he'd penned his missive, and I had to reread it twice before the meaning fully sank in.

Wide-eyed I looked over at Celebrimbor whose smile now reached his eyes. He still looked rather sad, though.

"The High King wishes me to come to Lindon?" I asked feeling rather stunned. "But...why me?"

"From what I understand, he has heard many positive things about you and your skills as a healer from his soldiers and several of his friends," Celebrimbor said as I handed the letter back to him. "He wishes you to train a group of healers so that Lindon will be in good hands as Eregion is."

I was speechless. Only just managing to keep my jaw from dropping, I blinked uncomprehendingly a few times.

"You come highly recommended to him. In fact, he asked for my opinion, and I told him the truth: that you are one of the most skilled healers of your age that I have ever encountered. Your bedside manner puts your patients at ease, and you are able to tend their wounds calmly and skillfully," Celebrimbor continued, setting the letter aside and grasping my hands. "There is no one better for the position, I assure you. You will excel in Lindon as you have here."

Finally forcing my voice to work again, I found myself stammering.

"I...Did the King specify how long I would need to remain there?"

"He said it might take two years, perhaps three," he answered, and as if he could read my thoughts, Celebrimbor tilted my chin up and looked into my eyes. "Eregion will still be here when you return. In any case, it was not a request. It was an order. You shall need to leave in the morning."

"That soon?" I asked feeling nerves start to bubble up within me. I was excited for the opportunity, of course, and honored beyond words that Gil-Galad had asked for me personally, but...the thought of leaving Celebrimbor and my home at such short notice frightened me.

My lord's arms wrapped around me, drawing me into a tight embrace which I returned wholeheartedly. Burying my face against his shoulder, I savored the feeling of being so close to him. I would not get the opportunity again for a long while.

"Stay here with me tonight," he murmured against my scalp, and I nodded my head silently in agreement. The pair of us barely let go of each other, and when we awoke cuddled together on the divan with the morning light streaming across our sleepy faces and rumpled clothes, there were no sufficient words to express all that we felt at this forced parting.

The final glimpse of Eregion's gates as I passed through them atop my horse, flanked on either side by guards, felt terribly final.

--

Lord Celebrimbor and I had corresponded via messengers since my arrival at Lindon, but shortly after his new forge had been built, his letters had all but ceased. I tried not to let my heartbreak show, but the High King, who had quickly caught on that my feelings for Celebrimbor were slightly more than friendly, noticed immediately.

After one of my meetings with him discussing the progress of his healers-in-training, he called me to a halt as I prepared to take my leave. His herald - my new and very dear friend, Elrond - was still there, but courteously acting as though he could hear neither of our voices as he packed away a stack of parchment.

"My lady, I have no doubt that he is simply caught up in his work," Gil-Galad said as he offered me a softer look than I was accustomed to seeing upon his regal features. "Given how Lord Celebrimbor has spoken of you in the past, he would not give you up so frivolously."

If only I believed he was right. Oh, I did not believe Celebrimbor to be cruel enough to do so, by any stretch of the imagination. I did not, however, believe myself to be important enough to deserve his attention, even after so many years of friendship.

Instead of voicing such concerns, however, I merely thanked the King for his reassurance, bowed my head respectfully, and went back to my duties.

A few silent months later, however, Elrond sought me out in the healers' halls and led me to an urgent meeting with the King. Beside a small table stood High King Gil-Galad and one of his commanders.

"Thank you for coming, my lady," the King said ushering me to a seat. He dismissed his commander, and I looked at him in askance. "I would not normally trouble you, but I'm afraid this concerns you."

I glanced up at Elrond and found a concerned, slightly guilty expression on his face.

"My lady, we believe that Sauron is in Eregion," the King said, and I felt as though I'd been slapped. "His goal is to create rings of power similar to the trio we already have. Naturally, to do this he would need a skilled smith..."

He trailed off, allowing me to come to the conclusion myself, and when I did, my stomach churned.

"Celebrimbor," I breathed, and he nodded his head.

"We are gathering our armies now, preparing to defend the city against another threat, but as we do so, we will also attempt to remove Lord Celebrimbor from Sauron's influence." Much of what the King said afterward was a blur. When he came to my particular duties as a healer, I paid close attention, noting all the preparations which would need to be made rather rapidly.

Before Elrond could leave, I dragged him into a hug and made him promise to be safe. Not long after, the rest of Lindon's army departed, and I was filling my time with work to distract myself from my fears.

--

Waiting for the High King and his soldiers to return was tantamount to torture. I had friends who were risking their lives in this conflict, of course, but even more than that, the fate of Eregion terrified me. The city had been my home for nearly a century, and I was naturally concerned for its people, but I was even moreso for Celebrimbor.

If I dwelled for too long upon that distinction, my own selfishness closed around my throat like a vice, forcing conflicted tears to well up in my eyes. When I thought of his kindness and all that he'd done for me, however, I found it easy to blink them back. I could not find it within myself to feel guilty for my concern over one so gentle and warm.

So, I waited with the other healers, giving orders where I could for casualty preparations, ensuring all of the supplies were well-ordered and accessible to all of us. Our patients would have traversed a long road home, victory or no, and we did not wish to prolong their discomfort any more than was necessary.

Horns blared at the gates a few days later, and we rushed out to receive the soldiers, injured and exhausted as they doubtless were. Fear scraped away inside me when I contemplated how many might have been lost when I saw how somber the mood was.

Tamping down my personal feelings, I moved with the swarm of healers, pulling aside all who were injured and beginning to treat the most serious problems first. We'd been working for only a few hours when a hand landed on my shoulder.

Elrond, dirty, defeated, and utterly bereaved stood at my side.

"Mellon-nin," he breathed, and I wrapped my arms around him. He embraced me fiercely, silent sobs wracking him as he buried his face in the crook of my neck. "Eregion..."

My heart constricted at his tone.

"The city fell," he mourned, and I felt a rising sort of panic.

"Did any escape? The people? The soldiers?" I asked, hesitating before I added, "Lord Celebrimbor?"

His nod against my shoulder brought tears to my own eyes. When he pulled back, he took a deep breath to steady himself.

"The High King wishes to see you. Immediately. You will want to bring supplies with you," Elrond murmured, but I caught sight of blood-soaked fabric peeking out from beneath his armor. I waved one of my best healers over.

"Thank you, mellon-nin. I am glad beyond words to see you returned. I'll go to the King now, but you are not to leave until your injuries have been seen to. No arguments, darling herald."

He gave me a damp smile and acquiesced to my demand after stealing another quick hug.

Tucking into a bag everything that I would need to treat potential injuries inflicted upon the High King, I rushed down the corridors on the heels of the soldier sent to guide me. He would not have sent for me unless it was serious. Instead of finding the King inside, however, he was just outside the door speaking with one of his guards. Gil-Galad dismissed both guards almost as soon as I arrived.

"Thank you for coming with such haste," he said, and as I took him in, he looked dirty, bruised, but otherwise unharmed.

"I was told you required a healer, Your Grace."

"Not I, though I did send for you. Your patient is within. You needn't knock," he said gesturing to the door to his guest's rooms. I made to go inside, but he caught my elbow, drawing me to a gentle stop. "My lady, I should warn you...'tis Lord Celebrimbor."

My heart nearly beat out of my chest with worry.

"How bad is it?" I rasped, and the High King's expression softened.

"Breathe. It is not life-threatening." I nearly fainted with relief, sagging heavily against the wall and allowing my eyelids to flutter shut. Gil-Galad placed a comforting hand upon my shoulder. "He was being held and manipulated by Sauron. He was chained to his forge with unbreakable restraints. The only way he could escape was to...remove one of his thumbs."

My eyes snapped up to meet his in utter horror at what Celebrimbor had been forced to do simply to preserve his own life. Finally, I forced myself to draw a steadying breath.

"Is there any swelling? Inflammation?" I managed to ask, and the King shook his head.

"No, there have been no complications thus far," he said, but he hesitated a moment. "I called for you, not because of the severity of his injury, but because he needs you. He rested only fitfully in his saddle. He called out for you...wept in his sleep."

Me? He'd called out for me?

"You are the greatest comfort he could have, my lady. He may not yet know that he has your love, but he needs it nonetheless."

I straightened as heat spread across my face. Gil-Galad had known of my feelings for Eregion's lord for some time, but we'd never discussed it so openly before. Oh, certainly he'd eluded to the subject before, giving subtle hints and encouragement when our correspondence effectively ended, but this...

"Thank you, Your Grace," I said in the steadiest voice I could manage. I hoped he understood that I didn't just mean for the reassurance. When he bowed his head and took his leave, I faced the door, steeling my nerves as I pulled it open–

And my breath froze in my chest. There, kneeling upon the ground in the middle of the floor, staring out into the sunlit garden, was Lord Celebrimbor. He seemed not to notice my entry. Closing the door behind me, I walked slowly over to him. Seeming both penitent and relieved, Eregion's lord remained stationary as the golden light of day poured across his skin. Dirt, grime, and dried blood covered him, but he was still the loveliest sight I'd ever laid eyes upon.

"My lord?" I murmured quietly, setting aside my bag as I knelt beside him, and with a slow blink, he roused himself from whatever thoughts had so captivated him. Slowly, he turned to face me, and amidst the dirt on his face, there were tear tracks.

His lips parted in surprise when he saw me, and when I offered him a gentle smile, he lifted his uninjured hand, caressing my face as if he could not believe that I was truly there.

I leaned more solidly into his touch, closing my eyes against the rising emotions within me, and a broken sob of my name tore from his lips.

"Y-You're here. You're real," he croaked as he began to weep. I drew him into my arms without a moment's hesitation. Clutching at me as if I might disappear, Celebrimbor fell to pieces in my arms. I could do no more than whisper reassurances and press gentle kisses atop his head.

An Ellon as sweet as he did not deserve to feel as terrible as he clearly did. The urge to smite Sauron - to rend him in half with my bare hands - grew with every tremble of my lord's frame beneath my hands.

In fragments, he spilled the story to me, explaining all that had happened between himself and Sauron - including how he found fragments of one of his letters to me in the corner of his forge where the manipulative bastard had thrown it. Hushing Celebrimbor's subsequent apologies, I ran my fingers gently through his hair, trying to soothe him.

Eventually, his tears dried up, his breathing became steadier, and he lifted his head from my shoulder. Without thought, he cupped my face with both hands. A grimace twisted his features and he began to whisper shame-filled apologies as he pulled his injured hand away.

I caught his wrist carefully, and pressed my own fingertips gently against his lips to silence him. Celebrimbor looked stunned even as his cheeks reddened.

"Have you forgotten that I am a healer, my lord? You needn't apologize. I have seen and treated much worse." His shoulders dropped a small measure at my reassurance, and I turned my attention to his poor hand. At least the cut had been clean. It was already beginning to heal quite nicely, but it would still need a little help. "Truthfully, this is doing quite well. Might I make a suggestion?"

"Anything," he breathed, and the sincerity in his eyes tore at my heart.

"It would be wise for me to give this a preliminary wash, then cover it in a protective layer so that we can get the rest of you clean. Afterward, I should be able to patch you up much easier, but only if that is agreeable to you," I said, but he was already nodding his head.

"Yes. Yes, entirely agreeable," he said beginning to smile tentatively again. "I shall humbly submit to any treatment you think is necessary."

My breath hitched in my throat. How could he still be so trusting even after everything that had happened? I vowed to myself that I would never abuse his trust. I loved him too much to even consider such treachery.

"Let me fetch a basin and send for a bath to be drawn, and I shall be right back," I promised, and he drew a shaky breath as I stood.

I was only apart from him for a few moments, but when I returned with the basin of water and the supplies, he looked up at me like he'd never been happier to see me. The joy radiating from him even beneath the dirt and dried blood covering his skin relaxed a ball of tension that had resided in me since I heard about the threat to him and his city.

He was here. He was alright. And Sauron had not broken that which was most important: his spirit.

Setting everything beside us, I laid a towel across my lap and gently pulled his sleeve back past his elbow. Shuffling a little closer so that neither of us would strain ourselves in the reach, I began to clean his wound, as well as his arm so that he needn't get it wet during his bath.

As I worked, we fell into a companionable silence that was only broken when a few strands of hair fell into my face having escaped my hair ribbon. With a touch lighter than a smith should ever have, Celebrimbor moved them behind my ear, his large, warm fingertip brushing over the point.

He'd never done that before.

I looked up to thank him, and I was taken aback by how close we were to each other. My nose was barely an inch from his. I swallowed heavily, forcing my heart, racing though it was, to remain silent.

"Thank you, my lord," I whispered. His breath caressed my skin, and I forced myself to look back down and finish my task. He did not need to be bothered with a childish infatuation. Why, oh why was professional distance so difficult to maintain around him?

Wrapping a few protective layers over the freshly cleaned wound, I tied it off carefully. It was a bit looser than I would normally make a dressing, but it was only meant to last long enough for a bath.

A knock sounded at the door as I finished up, and that, thankfully, was the announcement that it was ready - apparently the speed was thanks to High King Gil-Galad's foresight. He'd ordered the water drawn and heated when he sent for me, to be delivered when I asked.

Once we were both on our feet, however, Lord Celebrimbor seemed to freeze, nerves playing across his features.

"Is something amiss? Are you in pain?" I asked, but he'd shown no sign of it thus far. He drew a deep breath, his cheeks turning a bright red.

"You needn't do this if you...if this causes you discomfort, I'm certain I could manage." He sounded so embarrassed. At my confused expression, however, he elaborated. "I do not wish to be improper. To force you to see...well, more of me than is decent."

The precious man. Was that all he was worried about?

"There is no need for shame," I murmured, "in my occupation, nudity is as common as leaves on trees. I shall touch you no more than is necessary, and the moment you wish for privacy, you need only tell me, and you shall have it."

Celebrimbor seemed relieved, which wasn't surprising since Sauron had been holding him captive. I doubted he'd been left alone for even a moment.

"I...do not wish to inconvenience you, but I...don't think I..." he stammered as he tried to compose his thoughts. "Washing might be difficult on my own. I should be able to do some myself, but the rest..."

Holding his good hand with my own, I gave him a gentle smile.

"It is no inconvenience, and you should not be made to feel guilty for daring to ask for help." After a brief hesitation he nodded his head.

"In that case, thank you, híril vuin. I would be glad of your assistance," he said allowing me to lead him to the bathroom.

Carefully, I untied the laces of his tunic, easing the fabric from his injured side and apologizing every time I even expected him to twitch in discomfort. His bare chest ought not to have surprised me; he was used to laboring in his forge. His defined musculature was well-earned. Once he was down to just his leggings, he blushed brightly, and he asked if I might step out while he got into the bath. He would still need help washing, so I would need to return, but I could easily grant him that.

"Thank you, my lady. I realize that it is silly for me to ask, but..." he shrugged and trailed off bashfully.

"It is not silly, especially if such a simple thing would help you feel comfortable. Oh, by the way, have you eaten today?"

"I believe so, but...several hours ago." Nodding quietly to myself, I formed a plan.

"Then, I shall have some food sent up. I'll just be in the other room, so when you're ready to wash, call for me," I ordered, and he nodded his head. "Do not be afraid to ask for help should you need it before then."

I expected him to protest, but he agreed easily, allowing me to pat his bare shoulder before I stepped out.

Locating the servant that Gil-Galad had assigned to us, I asked for a dinner tray, along with a plate of lemon cakes and a pot of herbal tea - a sweet combination that I knew Lord Celebrimbor favored.

Though the cakes would not heal his thumb, they were exactly what he needed to lift his spirits. Something familiar that might bring him some comfort.

Ducking back into the bathroom when he called for me, I saw that my patient now lay with his eyes closed and his head resting against the rim of the tub behind him. Injured hand aside, he looked like one of the Valar lounging after a battle - a beautiful, larger-than-life figure in resplendent repose. I almost hated to disturb him.

He'd clearly managed to clean his face and part of his upper body, but his hair and back needed a little attention, along with his right arm. As I approached, I did my best to keep from looking lower than his neck, staunchly ignoring the part of my mind that was too focused on how good he looked while wet.

I moved a stool beside the tub and picked up the washcloth that he'd draped over the rim. When I looked back up at him, Celebrimbor's eyes were already watching me as a small smile stole over his lips.

"May I touch you, mellon-nin?" I asked, keeping my voice low so as not to disturb the calm spell that seemed to have fallen over us both. Had his pupils blown wider, or was that my own wishful thinking?

"Of course, you may. You, of all people, need never ask," he murmured.

"If you want me to stop at any point, tell me, and I swear to you–"

Celebrimbor grasped my hand.

"I know, mîr-nin," he said leaning forward until his damp forehead could meet mine. "I trust you. You have never hurt me, nor would you ever do so."

Drawing in a shaky breath, I allowed my eyelids to flutter shut. He'd never called me his jewel before. Surely, that was a sign of his exhaustion. Celebrimbor always had become softer and more prone to displaying platonic affection when he'd worked for too long, ignoring his own growing fatigue. As much as I wished it had meant more, I knew it never would, but as our breath mingled in this stolen moment, I felt a flicker of hope.

When we eventually pulled far enough apart for me to help him wash up, I tried to focus on the task at hand, rather than the feeling of my lord's muscles beneath my soapy fingers. Although, admittedly, I did allow myself the indulgence of giving him a small scalp massage as I washed his hair, combing my fingertips through his locks until not a single tangle impeded their flow.

Eventually, the water lost its heat, and I fetched a bathrobe and some towels from the side, bringing them closer for his use.

"If you would like me to step out..." I began to offer, but Celebrimbor shook his head.

"No. Truly, I should not have sent you out before. I was...Well, I feel much more like myself, now," he said, "and I have never been afraid of you seeing all of me. You know more of me than any other."

With a gentle smile, I moved the stool I'd been sitting on back to its place in the corner, draped a towel over my arm, and offered my lord my hands. He didn't hesitate to take them. Once he was on his feet, I glanced down to help him step out of the tub and–

Where toned thighs met, I was not at all surprised to see that his endowment was as attractive as the rest of him. And suitably sized.

My eyes met his, and I had no doubt he could tell I'd looked. Professional distance aside, I couldn't help giving him a mischievous smile.

"As I said before: you have no reason to be ashamed," I murmured, hoping that he could hear that which I was too afraid to say - the opinion which I, a mere healer, had no right to hold.

In no time at all, Celebrimbor was dry and wrapped in a soft set of silk robes. We thought it best, as he would be recovering from his ordeal for the next few days at least, to forego higher maintenance garments.

"Lemon cakes?" Celebrimbor asked as he took a seat on the divan that I'd moved farther into the sunlight - he seemed to savor it before. He looked between me and the tray as if attempting to solve a problem. "They're my favorite, but...how did you...?"

I couldn't help but smile as I crushed some herbs in a mortar and pestle, adding in some oils to bind the mixture together.

"You mentioned it the day we met," I answered. That day was one of my most pleasant memories, despite how it had started. The scent of dogwood blossoms still lingered in my memory as sweetly as perfume, lulling me back to that day as gently as a spring breeze.

"But...that was decades ago. Why would you remember something so trivial?" He asked, and looked up at him. Disbelief colored his features along with something softer - something I'd never dared to imagine seeing upon his face.

"Because it's something about you," I admitted as my heart hammered in my chest. Dropping my gaze back to the herbs, I tried to act as though I was still completely focused on creating the poultice my lord's hand required instead of my poor racing heart. Dropping my voice to a whisper, I both hoped and did not hope that he would hear me. "Everything about you matters to me."

Carrying the mortar and pestle over once I'd gathered myself, I took a seat beside him and lifted his injured hand.

"Forgive me. This will sting for a moment, but the oils should soothe the pain away quite quickly," I stated. With all the care I could muster, I scooped out part of the light green substance and dabbed it ever-so-lightly upon his wound. He didn't even flinch as I worked.

Truly, I should not have been surprised. Celebrimbor was a smith. He was used to injuries, even if they were not on par with...well, this. I'd set a broken bone in the same hand merely a decade before I was sent to Lindon, and even then he'd only let out a slight hiss of pain. Pride stabbed through me. Of course he'd escaped Sauron. How could he not with such strength?

My vision blurred as I reached for the gauze and cloth that I was meant to be covering the wound with, but I didn't truly process that I was crying until Celebrimbor brushed my tears away with his uninjured hand.

"What are these tears? Am I not meant to be the one in pain?" He asked giving me the same sweet smile he'd offered the day we met.

Turning just far enough to kiss his wrist, I tried to reassure him.

"I'm not in pain. I am more relieved than I have been in all my life." That was far too close to an admission for my taste, but after coming a hair's breadth from losing him, did I really want to stay silent for much longer? Carefully, I began wrapping his hand, ensuring that it was not too loose or too tight.

When I tied off the end over his palm, however, it occurred to me that after all he'd been through, Celebrimbor did not need a declaration of that sort after such a harrowing experience. He just needed a friend to be there with him. As that was all I would likely ever be to him, I smiled up at him and asked him how it felt.

"Perfect," he murmured in a lower, slightly rougher voice than before. Had I caused him more pain? Was the mix of oils wrong?

No. No, breathe. I'd treated Lord Celebrimbor before, and though he was the embodiment of kindness, he would've told me if something felt wrong. Perhaps he was tired? Yes, that was it. His long journey must be catching up with him. I'd noted the same when he was in the bath, so surely that was the only explanation. Carefully, I wiped my hands clean.

"We should change this in the morning and again before you go to bed tomorrow," I murmured, forcing out the professional advice that was so familiar to me. "We'll carry on like that for a few days, and see how you are healing as time progresses."

"As my healer wishes, but..." Celebrimbor trailed off, pausing as if he was considering whether to speak or remain silent. "You're...not leaving yet, are you?"

There was something vulnerable and frightened in his eyes now, something fragile that I was quite sure might break if I did leave. Instead, I smiled at him and shook my head.

"No, my lord. I will stay here with you as long as you wish," I promised, and his shoulders sagged in relief. After setting aside my supplies, I poured his tea how I knew he preferred it, and in the peace of Lindon's golden sunlight, we chatted as we used to. Since our correspondence had been so rudely prevented by a certain dark force, we filled each other in on all that we'd missed.

Celebrimbor insisted during that time, that I help him eat those lemon cakes. By the time the sun had begun to set, we'd even sent for a second pot of tea.

Amidst a lull in the conversation, Celebrimbor covered my hands with his own. My eyes flicked up to his, only to find him looking at me as if I'd hung the very stars in the sky.

"Is something amiss, my lord?"

"I should have told you years ago," he whispered. "I was a coward for so long. I only made it back here - back to you - by the sheerest of luck. I very nearly lost my chance entirely."

"After all these years, 'coward' is not a word I would ever think to call you," I said, but he shook his head.

"But I am. I have been so afraid that I would ruin the rapport that we've built," he insisted. "I am a coward, because I could not tell you until it was very nearly too late. I think a part of me hoped that if I could create something worthwhile...something to change Middle Earth, I would be worthy of risking the admission."

"What do you mean, mellon-nin?"

"My tunic!" He blurted, and at the alarm in his features, I startled.

"I don't understand. What about it, my lord?"

"Has it been taken away to be cleaned yet?" He asked, and I shook my head.

"No, my lord, I haven't had the chance, yet. I can do so now," I said, and he let out a sigh of relief.

"Oh, thank the Valar! No, don't take it yet, but...would you bring it to me?" Without hesitation, I hurried over to the table where I'd laid his clothing and pulled out his rumpled tunic. The stained green velvet had clearly seen better days. I sat beside him once more, and he folded the top inside out. Just inside the neckline, there was a small, concealed pocket. From within it, he pulled a velvet drawstring bag.

Discarding the tunic carelessly on the floor beside him, he took a steadying breath and offered me the bag. I accepted it cautiously, in case whatever was inside was fragile.

"This was the only thing I wanted to sneak out of my forge. The only thing that really mattered besides the nine," he said sounding more nervous than he had for most of the night. Darting his eyes between the bag and my face, Celebrimbor's tongue wetted his lips. "I meant to give it to you before you came to Lindon, but...I wasn't sure if...well..."

He trailed off and swallowed nervously.

"I feel fortunate to even have the opportunity to tell you, late though I am," he murmured. "Please...open it."

Carefully loosening the drawstring, I tipped the contents of the bag gently into my palm. Gleaming silver inlaid with the purest, brightest diamonds I'd ever seen sparkled up at me. Setting the bag aside, I lifted what I thought at first was a necklace, but upon its unfurling, I realized it was something entirely different.

"My lord, this is much too beautiful for one of my station," I protested looking up at him in awe.

"Nonsense. A circlet of a static shape would not adapt well if you wanted to wear your hair in more than one style. Such an adornment was a pleasure to make...for the Lady of Eregion," the last part of his statement came out as a whisper, and I froze. "I-I realize that title would not be applicable now, because Eregion is no more, but...I still wish you to have this. E-Even if you do not feel the same affection for me that I do for you, I still believe it would complement your beauty–"

My lips met his, cutting off his rambling. How could he think I would not want him? After all this time, after a century, I would've thought that I'd failed to hide my feelings quite spectacularly on several occasions. Lingering embraces, rather obviously adoring looks, spending practically all my time with him in his study and his forge - I had not been subtle, mentally berating myself on countless occasions for overstepping my bounds.

"I love you," I blurted as soon as we separated. "Since the day we met, I have held no other in higher regard. But...my lord, I am only Half-elven. You deserve so much better than me."

"Ridiculous. Of all the people I have encountered, you have done something that no other has: you have filled a hole in my heart which I did not know existed before we met. You have given me more to look forward to than just my work and my duties," he said cupping my face so gently between his strong, calloused fingers. The softness of his smile, the lines adorning the outer corners of his eyes - everything about him was so open and vulnerable that despite all the decades of accumulated doubts and fears, I believed him. "Meleth, your light chases away even the darkest of shadows. I love you, and I would spend my life with none but you."

When his lips claimed my own, he tasted of citrus, sugar, and courage. The next morning when High King Gil-Galad asked me to report on Lord Celebrimbor's condition, he noted the gleaming silver atop my head with a conspiratorial smirk and ordered me back to my patient's side. For his health, of course. If he called out a quiet congratulatory wish as I left, well, who could comment upon the thoughts of kings?

~*~*~

Elvish Words:

mîr-nin = my jewel

híril vuin = beloved lady

hir-nin = my lord

meleth = love

~*~

Taglist:

@bigblissandlove1 @horta-in-charge @gandalfthepimp

[celebrimbormylove]

This has to be the most beautiful thing i’ve ever read oh my god 😭❤️

haven | celebrimbor

look ma! something happy for once!

if you haven't caught on yet, i've been writing these oneshots with the intention of them to (hopefully) be read in a particular order -> if you want to get pieces of the rest of the story, please read.. (there are PLENTY more coming)

Set before S2

Ease -> First(s) (coming soon, will probably be a drabble..) -> Haven (this one!) -> Nightmare -> Wash Away The Blood

prompt: Celebrimbor takes you just outside of Eregion to a hidden pool for your first date. Not one Elf but him knows about it as it has been a haven since Eregion's foundations were laid.

tag: @pentaghasm (you know exactly why) -> @celebrimbormylove

***

You're almost positive you've heard him wrong. It's only been a matter of days since you'd shared that kiss on the balcony, and now it seems as if he's asking you - in the presence of his smiths, nonetheless - to meet him tomorrow for something he's calling a ''morning commitment.''

It's fortunate for you that you've come to know that Celebrimbor is a terrible liar.

Apparently, commitment means date.

"Good morning, nin tinu," His voice draws your attention away from your morning cup of tea as he steps out onto the balcony. Ever since he kissed you out here mere days before, you've made a habit of coming out here before the sun rises to hear the kingfishers. "For someone who prefers to rise with the late morning sun, you are up early."

"That's because someone has been occupying my thoughts," You tease. You run a teasing finger around the rim of your teacup as his cheeks flush pink. "And I've come to enjoy the sound of the kingfishers. You've given me yet another thing to appreciate about your city."

"It will eventually be our city." Celebrimbor remarks. The two of you lean against the railing simultaneously and sip at your tea. While your thoughts are consumed by the implications of his statement, he's trying to figure out how to properly ask you to follow him out of the city so he can follow through on his ''commitment."

Celebrimbor blinks in confusion as you run a tender thumb across the furrow of his brow. "You do that when you're too deep in thought," You remark softly. "Is something wrong?"

"I have decided to take the day off from the forge today. It is a beautiful day, and I wish to spend it with you." Celebrimbor said. "However, the other smiths believe me to be following through on a prior commitment I made to you. They just believe it is regarding the weapon you asked me to craft."

"And what is it really in regards to?"

"I have something I'd like to show you outside of the city. It requires several hours worth of time. Would you like to accompany me?"

There's so much hope in those kind eyes. You'd never deny Celebrimbor, not when he's so earnest and open with you, but something about the way he's looking at you says that he's eager. This is something precious to him that he does not wish to share with anyone else.

You smile and nod. "When do we leave?"

***

The place in question that Celebrimbor leads you to a few hours later is nothing short of a haven: The swimming hole that lies before you is breathtaking. Celebrimbor has taken your hand where you stand on the edge of the ledge before you, a ledge that dips just enough for one to propel themselves off the edge and into waters below.

The trees shroud the watering hole from unsuspecting eyes.

"This has been here since before Eregion's creation," Celebrimbor says lowly in your ear, hands wandering to rest against your sides as you lean into his chest. "I have not shown it to another soul. It is... my haven."

You hum softly in acknowledgment as he presses a kiss to the junction of your shoulder that has your toes curling in your boots.

"And tell me," You reply. "Why is it a haven for you?"

"Because even amid all the turmoil that has been in my life," He does not look at the water as he speaks, but rather at you, because Celebrimbor is confident that every word rings true for the person who has become his true haven. A haven is a place of refuge, after all. "I'm reminded of the existence of beautiful things."

You go silent for several minutes. It's been such a long time since you've been this close to the water - as your last experience was when the sailors of Eregion pulled you out of the sea when you fell - and you're hesitant to tell him that you're not quite confident of your abilities in swimming.

"And what does one do in the presence of such beauty?" You peel yourself away from him and cross your arms to remove your tunic, revealing the underclothes you'd chosen for the occasion. They were meant to withstand water. "Hm?"

You bend to remove your boots.

Celebrimbor immediately feels his mouth go dry. The last time this had happened, he had been the one unclothed in front of you.

"My clothes are much more confining than yours, my love," He muses weakly. "I may need more help getting out of them."

The late morning sunlight glints against your hair as you step forward to meet him, fingers wrapping around the fabric of your favorite set of red robes as he lifts his arms and the robe comes off. He too is wearing appropriate small clothes to withstand water.

If his mouth went dry, your mouth is the equivalent of the desert. He is a sight to behold.

"I'm sorry," It's rare for you to lose your carefully crafted composure, especially in front of him, but Celebrimbor finds himself endlessly entertained as you reach out a hand and press it into the divot of his chest. "I know I have technically seen this before, but you hide this all the time?"

"My eyes are up here, my love," Celebrimbor teases. Laughter echoes against the trees as he lowers his gaze to where now both of your hands rest against his chest. "Come. Let's enjoy this time."

***

It takes Celebrimbor far longer than he cares to admit to realize you are afraid.

After taking the initiative to wade out toward the waterfall, he had been expecting you to follow him. What Celebrimbor found once he turned around was you lingering in the sand. It was evident from the unease written across your face that you were afraid to move forward.

"Are you coming?" He calls in question, clearly confused.

"I..."

Your eyes find him across the pool. He's truly the most handsome man you have ever seen, but you are most transfixed by his eyes. Celebrimbor's eyes are his most attractive quality. You could spend hours upon hours studying them: The flecks of brown held within the deep hazel that seems to go on forever, holding centuries upon centuries of kindness that so often is overlooked.

The words pour from your lips before you can halt them. You are almost embarrassed that they're spoken at all. "The last time I was in water such as this was when your sailors found me in the sea. I was terrified. This-"

"I will not let you drown," Celebrimbor says softly as he emerges from the water, droplets trailing down his chest to disappear at his waist and below. "I will not let anything happen to you. You know that."

The unspoken question of, "Do you trust me?" lingers in his words as Celebrimbor holds his hand out to you. You think that you could conquer any fear if he's there by your side to help combat it.

You'd rush into the front lines of an unwinnable war if he'd fight it alongside you.

Celebrimbor has never been a warrior. He's a crafter, a creator, someone who only uses his hands for goodness. Your hands... you don't even want to know what they've done.

You're determined to change the narrative. Even if you have committed things that you can't remember, the act of taking Celebrimbor's hand opens an entirely new possibility of only goodness.

You link your fingers and follow him into the water.

Celebrimbor's smile is well worth conquering your fear. "There you go," His voice is encouraging as he stops where the water touches both of your waists. He's taller than you here. "I'm proud of you, my love. I know conquering fears is hard."

Your eyes venture upward. Celebrimbor has pushed his hair back behind his ears with his fingers, but there's one singular curl hanging against his forehead.

You tilt your head and curl it around your finger.

"Is there a reward for conquering fears?" You ask innocently, batting your lashes up at the Elven Smith who only laughs in response. Celebrimbor has not asked to properly court you. Not yet, but you want him to.

To answer your question, Celebrimbor cups your face in his hands and lowers his mouth to kiss you. You sink against him with ease and press your fingers into his shoulders to grasp at him as he eases your legs around his waist and moves deeper into the pool to the waterfall.

You whine as his tongue curls around your own and licks into the warmth of your mouth. He's just as good with his mouth as he is with his hands.

"Your other reward?" Celebrimbor begins as the two of you slip just underneath the waterfall. You shriek, burying your head in his shoulder as he tightens his arms around your waist. "I am not sure about your reward, but the sound of your laughter and the lure of your mouth is such a satisfactory reward for me, my love."

Celebrimbor holds you there for what feels like years. You do not mind. You could spend the rest of your eternity here with him and be completely content.

"I want to move forward with proper elven courtship," You say softly into Celebrimbor's ear, pressing your nose against his temple as you play with the loose, damp curls at the nape of his neck. "But only if you wish the same."

Celebrimbor had been wishing the same since he first kissed you that night on his balcony with the whole of his own city as his witness. He knew you were still adapting, still learning a whole new life, and becoming a whole new you, and for that, he did not wish to impose his own feelings when you were still wrestling with your own.

He smiled and slowly twisted his body in the water, eyes watching as you eased yourself to float atop the pool and allowed him to hold you upright.

"I would like nothing more, nin tinu," Is all he can reply, helpless and at your total mercy as you throw your arms out and embrace your fears while your refuge keeps you contained within his embrace, unwilling to let you go. "and I thank you for coming with me."

***

Less than a week later, you awaken to a gift on your side table in your chambers. It is a pendant.

A pendant with a sun and holly leaf. There is a note underneath the pedant in Celebrimbor's handwriting that makes your stomach flutter.

A reminder, for you, of our beginning.

[celebrimbormylove]

🥺🥺🥺

We must atone for our mistakes in the only way we can... by completing the Rings together.

[celebrimbormylove]

Crafted Love

Angst? Heart break? Yes. Just yes. Enjoy 😙 (also I wrote this on a plane so don’t mind the errors)

Tag(s): @morganas-pendragons

♡₊˚ 🦢・₊✧

“If he had to choose between his craft and you, what do you think his decision would be?”

It was a harsh question to ask. You had never once doubted the love of your husband, but he had been acting quite unlike himself lately. He had always wanted to create something that could make even the greatest of evils shed a tear, you knew this better than anyone, but these rings he was creating…they were different.

Since the sudden appearance of Annatar, and his request to Celebrimbor to create rings of incredible power, you found yourself having a hard time speaking to your husband without it ending in a fight. He was throwing his entire being into those rings, and losing himself in the process. You were afraid of losing the man you loved.

“I do not think he would choose his craft.” You responded, keeping your voice as leveled as possible. Though you could probably fool anyone else, you couldn’t keep your true thoughts hidden from your dear friend.

“You do not truly mean that. I can tell. Tell me, Y/N, what will you do when he becomes a completely different person?” Elrond had come to keep you company for a bit, as your husband was far too busy. This had become a common occurance over the last few months.

You didn’t respond this time. The thought of him becoming someone completely unrecognizable to you was terrifying. He had been caught up in his work before, but this was on a different level. He was irritated constantly, snapping at the people closest to him, and he seemed to practically forget about your presence altogether.

“What would you do, if you were in my place?”

Elrond contemplated this for a moment. He didn’t want to be too harsh but at the same time, he felt as though he owed it to you to be as truthful as possible. You were his closest friend, afterall.

“I would prepare myself for the worst. It would be best to be well-equipped for whatever may happen.”

You sighed deeply and stared up at the sky. The sun had started to set, painting the sky in the most beautiful shades of pink and orange. It was absolutely gorgeous. You closed your eyes, smiling softly as you remembered the times when you would drag Celebrimbor out of his forge to watch the sun set. Usually, he would stay out a bit longer with you, watching the stars appear and dance throughout the sky.

“These stars will be the witnesses to our love. They will be our proof that I, Celebrimbor, Lord of Eregion, choose to love you for all of our years together. Whenever you are feeling down, you need only look up at the sky and you will be reminded of my love.”

How you longed to hear those words again. You wanted your lover back and it hurt you to know that he may be lost forever. But it pained you even more to know that there was barely anything you could do to help him.

“Elrond, I have to set him free from this…this prison he is in.”

“How do you intend to do that, when the prison is his own mind?”

Again, a question you had not prepared yourself for.

“I will try to reason with him one more time. If he does not come to his senses, then I will consider this a lost cause. I mean it this time.” The strength in your voice reflected your resolution but your eyes betrayed you, as they quickly filled with tears.

There was nothing left to be said between friends, as Elrond could already forsee the outcome of your conversation and you were choosing to stay blind to it. He could not longer help you, nor could he watch you suffer anymore. He gave you a small nod and turned to leave.

“It will work this time, Elrond. Something feels different this time.” You called out to him, a final message before he left.

“I truly hope it does, for your sake more than his.”

You watched as your friend departed, leaving you alone with your thoughts once more. You couldn’t give up on the man who loved you, who looked at you as though you were the brightest star in the night sky. You had promised yourself long ago that you would love him until your dying breath.

Your fondest memories with him flooded your mind as you made your way to his forge. They made you feel a sense of loss, but they also helped to solidify your resolve. You could no longer sit back and watch, as your husband’s usually colourful soul now resembled a cold and empty shade of grey.

“We need to talk.” You shouted as you burst through the doors of his forge.

He was standing at his work bench, examining something through that little magnifying glass that you had gifted him years ago. The sight brought a wave of nostalgia that hit you hard, leaving you slightly gasping for air.

“What is it? I am quite busy, you know.” He didn’t even look up, you weren’t worth his full attention right now.

“As I said, we need to talk. Now.” You walked over to him and stood beside him, applying some kind of pressure for him to focus on you.

“Fine, make it quick though.” He put his glass down and turned to look at you.

Shock wasn’t a strong enough word to describe how you felt as soon as you saw him. He was a completely different man. His hair was a mess, coal and ash were smeared across his face, and his eyes. Oh his beautiful eyes. They were dull, lacking emotion of any sort.

You had interrupted him from his work before, but those were different days. Better days. Days were his eyes were full of excitement, every new project sparked joy in him and you could always see it. But now? There wasn’t an ounce of joy behind his eyes. There was nothing.

“You have changed, my love. And as much as I would love to let you continue on this project, I am begging you to stop. You are losing yourself.” You held his hand gently, doing your best to ignore the cuts and scrapes on it as there were larger issues at hand.

He stood quietly for a moment, gazing into your eyes as if he was trying to determine whether or not you were serious about your request. When he spoke, his voice was soft and quiet, almost a whisper. “Perhaps you are right.”

Your eyes lit up. This was a huge improvement from the last time when you had spoken to him. He was genuinely taking your words in and listening to you.

“I truly am so glad that you see it too-”

“I have changed. For the better. I see you now, in your truest form.” His voice changed, what was once soft was now sharp and cold, as though he was speaking to his enemy. He pulled his hand out of yours and crossed his arms, with a look on his face that you had never seen before. It was as though he despised you.

“You never wished for me to achieve my only goal, my dearest dream. You wanted me to forever live in Feanor’s shadow. A fool who could never achieve what his ancestors did. That is truly why you wish for me to stop my work on the rings.”

You stared blankly at him. His words made no sense to you. Since the beginning, you knew of his ambitions and you never once stopped supporting him. You sacrificed so much for him, and yet he had the nerve to say that. Your mind went quiet, any sense or reasoning was now long gone.

“You are indeed a fool, Celebrimbor. I gave up my position as commander, just to be here and support you while you worked day and night, attempting to create something that seemed near impossible. Yet here you are, accusing me of having alterior motives. I, who moved my entire life from Lindon to Eregion, to help you. A fool does not even begin to describe what you are in this very moment.”

Your words cut deep, causing a look of guilt and sadness to flash across his face for a moment. But he quickly regained his cold composure and looked down at you.

“What am I then?”

“I will tell you instead what you are not. You are not the man I love. You are far from the man I married and swore to love for both of our lifetimes. The man who would stay up late with me, counting the stars in the sky and promising to love me more than the amount he counted, the man who would drop everything the second I expressed any need of him, he is truly gone. I thought perhaps, the real you was somewhere in there, deep down inside. I see now that I was wrong.”

He didn’t even flinch as you told him everything you had felt for months on end. It was in that moment that you realized he was a different man now, and you couldn’t do anything about it. Not waiting for any response from him, you turned around and walked towards the door, hesitating slightly as you contemplated saying one last thing. A farewell.

“I hope those rings bring you the comfort you need, as I no longer will. Goodbye, Lord Celebrimbor.”

He said nothing as he watched you leave. Your words slowly began to sink in, but he forced himself to think nothing of them and return to his work. As he turned back to his table, he saw your wedding band, placed beside his tools. When you had taken your ring off was unknown to him, but it broke his heart, though he wouldn’t feel it until it was too late.

Years had passed since your last encounter with him. You were now standing in the ruins of Eregion, listening to your dearest friend as he told you everything that had happened. His final sentence informing you of what you had already realized: Celebrimbor had died. Or rather, he was killed. You allowed Elrond to finish his recount of the events, and then you made your way to the forge. You could not truly believe it until could confirm it with your own two eyes.

A sudden wave of nausea hit you as you walked into the forge. The smell of blood and ashes was so strong it choked you. And it was then when you looked up and saw him. Impaled to the pillar, a declaration of war. You stayed for a moment longer, before taking a deep breath and leaving. It was far more gruesome than you could have imagined.

As you walked through the rest of the city, you found yourself reminiscing about the past. Every corner of the city held a beautiful memory for you. The garden that he planted just for you, with your favourite flowers, was now completely destroyed. A single petal lay on the ground, untouched by the evil that had overtaken the city you once called home.

The next few days consisted of your friends constantly checking in on you. They knew how strong, how unwavering, your love was for the Lord of Eregion. And though your heart hurt, no tears ever fell. For you had mourned him, long before he truly left.

[celebrimbormylove]

"Keen are the eyes of the Elves" - Islildur / S1.E6 Udûn SEASON TWO COUNTDOWN | Elves

[celebrimbormylove]

I love this more than my own life

I couldn't find a Celebrimbor wallpaper for my phone that I liked. Had to make my own. His red robe is my favorite. Our lil chili pepper 🌶️❤️ Feel free to save it and use it!!

[celebrimbormylove]

Annatar: I need you to make me some rings

Celebrimbor: Wow, moving a little fast there buddy, at least take me out to dinner first

[celebrimbormylove]

Partings

As Adar prepares his incursion into Eregion you try to reason with him one final time.  With the shadow of partings drawing near, you make a confession.

Warnings: breathplay

Words: 2700

A/N: I'm in shambles while waiting for the finale! Prayer circle: Adar will live (delusional)

The flickering torches barely light the winding makeshift corridors as you find your way to Adar’s tent. You hesitate before the entrance, the deep timbre of his voice faintly audible from within. Though the decision to confront him gnaws at your heart, your resolve hardens. You call out to him, at last.

"Enter," his voice responds, calm but with the underlying steel of command.

Pushing the flap open, you step inside. Adar stands near a small table, his tall figure casting a long shadow against the wood. His gaze flickers briefly toward you, sharp and unreadable.

"You seek something from me," he says, not a question, but a statement. His eyes return to whatever plans lie before him, maps and parchments spread out on the table. His thoughts are already deep within the invasion of Eregion, and for a moment, you wonder if he even notices your arrival beyond the distraction you present.

You walk further into the room, heart pounding as you search for the right words. "I need to speak with you… plainly, if you will allow it."

Adar’s head tilts slightly, his eyes narrowing, curiosity sparking faintly in the depths of his gaze. He gestures with one hand for you to continue, though his attention remains half-fixed on the maps before him.

"I must ask…" You take a deep breath, summoning your courage as you approach him, hands splaying over the tapestry of parchments upon his war table, your voice firm but quiet. "If you would hear me, I ask that you consider restraint, even for just a short time. Sauron may be in Eregion but the people in Eregion are not our foes."

Adar’s gaze snaps back to you then, piercing through the shadows. "What worth does your counsel have," he asks, his voice measured, yet sharp as the edge of a blade, "when I have lived through more lifetimes than your mind can conceive?"

You swallow, resolve faltering for a moment, but you hold your ground. "I know my counsel may seem small compared to the ages you’ve witnessed," you continue, "yet I sense that we should retreat—there is still time to consider Galadriel’s offer."

For the first time, Adar’s eyes soften, but only briefly. His expression returns to its unreadable mask as he turns slightly, giving you his profile as he considers your words. The room feels colder for a moment, though the firelight continues to flicker in the hearth.

"While some of my kin would gladly serve Sauron," you add, voice tightening as the memory of Waldreg and his ilk crosses your mind, "I would do all that is within my power to never live under his shadow. Why should we alienate a possible ally, even if only briefly and end up fighting two foes at once when we could form an alliance and smite our common enemy?"

Your words hang in the air, but Adar remains silent. His eyes flicker toward you once more, but his thoughts are distant, sweeping through layers of history and war like a gale. You wonder, as the silence stretches on, if your plea has fallen on unlistening ears. Yet, a part of you knows that the simple act of standing before him and revealing your concerns was the only choice you had.

“If you would do all that is within your power, then heed my council. We will march upon Eregion and defeat Sauron one last time. The elves will fall ere the Uruk legions begin to tire.”

Adar’s words are cold, resolute, as though his decision has already been carved in stone. His mention of the elves falling stirs a deep ache in your chest, and you feel a sudden wave of desperation wash over you. Your heart pounds, and your throat tightens as you step closer to him, your voice faltering.

“Why?” you whisper, eyes searching his impassive face for any hint of understanding. “Why must it come to that? Why must you sacrifice everything, for a war that could be… different?”

Adar’s gaze doesn’t shift, his silence a wall of indifference that only deepens your despair. The tears well up in your eyes before you can stop them, your breath catching in your throat as your voice breaks.

"I fear for you," you confess, ashamed as the words spill from you in a trembling rush. “I fear for your plan… for what it could cost." You pause, your tears now flowing freely down your cheeks, unable to mask the vulnerability that overwhelms you. “I know I’m no Uruk or Elf. But I—” You choke on the words, a sob rising in your chest as you lower your gaze, suddenly self-conscious of how foolish you must seem to him, of the weakness you have shown.

“I… I care about you,” you finally manage, your voice barely above a whisper, raw with emotion. “More than you know.”

Your hands tremble at your sides, and you want to pull away, to hide the shame that burns in your cheeks as the confession lingers in the silence. You feel small and fragile in his presence, aware that the burden of his countless years far surpasses any affection a mortal could provide. Yet, the truth has been spoken, and there's no way to erase it.

His face remains unreadable, as if untouched by the words that just broke you. Your tears feel shameful now, unwelcome in the face of his unyielding gaze, yet you stand there, unable to look at him. 

For a moment, you hope, desperately hope, that something in him softens, that perhaps he might see the sincerity behind your fear.

The silence that follows your words feels like an eternity. Adar remains still, his dark eyes studying you with the same calm, measured gaze he always carries. But in that quietness, the weight of your confession settles between you like a heavy stone. Your heart races, half-expecting him to laugh at the foolishness of your emotions, half-fearing he will remain as distant as the realms he’s outlived.

His voice, when it finally comes, is soft, yet it cuts through the air like a blade.

“You fear for me?” he asks, though there’s no mockery in his tone. Just cold, hard curiosity. His gaze sharpens, narrowing on your tear-streaked face. “You fear for a plan that has been centuries in the making, forged by hands far older than you can comprehend?”

Your breath shudders, and you force yourself to meet his eyes, even as tears continue to slip down your cheeks. “Yes,” you whisper, almost pleading. “I do. I know it’s not my place… I know you’ve seen more than I ever will… but that doesn’t mean I can’t fear losing you to it. To your own hate.”

For the first time, his expression flickers—just for an instant. A crack in the mask, so brief you might have missed it, but it’s there. His jaw tightens, and he turns away from you, as if looking at your raw vulnerability for too long will unsettle something in him.

“You think a mortal’s fear can change the course of this war?” he murmurs, voice low. “That your concern for me could sway the path I walk?”

“I’m not trying to change everything,” you say, the words tumbling out in a rush. “I just… I don’t want you to become something you hate. I don’t want you to fall into the same madness and despair that Sauron brings to all he touches.”

Adar’s back remains to you, his broad shoulders tense as your words seem to ripple through him. He lets the weight of your plea hang in the air, unbroken.

And then, with deliberate slowness, he turns to face you. His eyes are harder now, dark like the gems set at the hilt of his sword, but there’s something deeper—something you’d never seen before, a flicker of an ancient pain that lingers just beneath the surface.

“You think my heart can still be swayed?” he asks, quieter now. “That after all I’ve endured, I can still feel what you feel?”

You bite your lip, fighting to keep your voice steady, even though you’re shaking under the intensity of his gaze. “I do not know what you feel,” you admit, “but I know what I see. And what I see… is someone who has suffered and endured, someone who could still choose something better.”

Adar's eyes lock onto yours, unblinking, unreadable and for a moment, you feel as if you’ve pushed too far.

But then, he speaks again, his voice quieter.

“I do not deserve what you offer,” he says, and this time, the coldness in his tone falters. There’s a weariness there, a sorrow too deep for words. “I cannot give you what you seek.”

Your heart twists painfully, but you step closer, your hand trembling as you reach for him. For a moment, he doesn’t move, doesn’t even breathe as your fingers brush against his arm.

“I do not need anything from you,” you say, your voice barely a whisper. “Please do not forget yourself in this war. Not to Sauron, not to vengeance. Not to what you think you should be.”

He looks down at your hand, where it rests on his arm, and you can feel the tension in him, the tempest raging behind those ancient eyes. He could easily pull away, dismiss you as another fleeting mortal lost in his long, endless war. But he doesn’t.

Instead, his hand, strong and calloused, covers yours. It’s the closest thing to a connection you’ve felt from him, an acknowledgment that, perhaps, he understands more than he’s willing to say. For a moment, the world outside the chamber fades—the war, the bloodshed, the centuries of pain and anger that have shaped him. It’s just you, standing there, your hand in his, the silence between you filled with meaning.

And for that brief moment, you dare to hope that, perhaps, something in him has shifted.

“Adar,” you whisper, breaking the stillness, your voice trembling. “If I cannot sway you from this path, then allow me this—let me at least comfort your weary body. You carry the weight of so much, and I cannot bear the thought of you shouldering it alone.” 

His grip tightens slightly, as if considering your plea. 

You feel your heart race as you continue, “You deserve more than just this endless struggle. Allow me to ease your burdens, even if just for a moment. I can offer you comfort, however fleeting.”

A shadow passes over his features, and for a heartbeat, you think he might refuse. But the lines of tension around his eyes soften ever so slightly. “And what would you ask in return?” His voice is low, cautious, yet there’s a glimmer of curiosity in his tone.

“I seek nothing from you but this,” you whisper softly, your voice barely above a murmur. "For tonight, let us forget the weight of tomorrow.”

He studies you then, as if weighing your words against the millennia of experience that shape his every thought. The silence stretches again, but this time, it feels different—not suffocating, but rather a space filled with unspoken possibilities.

“Very well,” he finally replies, his voice a low rumble. “Then soothe me, mortal. But know this—it will not change my resolve.”

You step forward, your hands steady despite the quickening pulse in your chest. Gently, you place your palm on his arm, guiding him toward the seat at the head of his table. He follows your lead without resistance, his eyes never leaving yours as you ease him down into the chair.

The firelight casts long shadows across his face, softening the harsh lines of his expression, though you know the weight he carries is far from light. You kneel before him, fingers brushing the edges of his gauntlet as you settle between his legs.

Without a word, your hands move to the ties of your tunic. The fabric slips from your shoulders, revealing skin inch by inch as you undress before him. His gaze follows every movement, yet there is no cruelty in his eyes now, only a quiet intensity. As you stand bare before him, the air between you burns with unspoken tension, the flicker of the fire leading your shadow across the draped fabrics of the tent.

Your hands reach for his belt, fingers deftly working the metal buckles  loose as his eyes remain locked on yours. The entwined metal slips free with a quiet sound, and you toss it aside. He shifts beneath you, his own hands tugging at the waistband of his lower tunic, shifting his clothing just enough to release his aching length—the only part he shall bare to you tonight.

His breath catches as you take him into your mouth, your movements unhurried, savouring every reaction you pull from him. His hands grip the arms of the chair, knuckles whitening as he watches you, his control slipping with each passing moment.

Adar reaches for you, his armoured claws resting across your temple as he begins to thrust into your mouth, pushing even deeper. He is at times fast and unforgiving and then slow, never keeping the same pace for long lest you grow bored of it. Pausing from time to time he pulls out of you, leaning down to consume you in a kiss as you catch your breath.

Soon your legs grow weaker, as if he is taking your strength in exchange of pleasure and the only things which keeps you upright are your forearms braced on his thighs.

Not long after, you sense the shift in him—his breath growing ragged, his muscles tensing beneath your touch. His head falls back, eyes closing as a low groan escapes his lips and then he comes undone completely because of you, spilling into your throat.

Once he is spent, he hoists you on his lap, taking himself into his hand and pushing into you, while he stills your hips with the claws of his gauntlet. They dig into your flesh hard enough to leave reddened marks without breaking the skin, however, for now.

As you are joined as close as two bodies can be, your hands brace against his chest–you hate how he still wears his armour–as you are so full of him that every slight sway of his hips makes you weak and breathless. Shifting his grip, his free hand comes up to caress your cheekbone before settling over your breasts, his fingers toying with each nipple. Soon you feel the iron grip of his armoured hand wind around the column of your throat.

His eyes, sharp and unreadable, pin you beneath his stare. You feel every inch of him, every deliberate motion as he fills you completely, the pressure almost too much but not enough to stop the aching need within you.

Adar begins to roll his hips, settling into a slow, but forceful pace. Your body responds instinctively, moving in time with him, desperate for more, even as his gauntlet holds you firm, even as it constricts your breathing just enough so you are aware you are at his utter mercy.

Countless whispers of his name spill from your lips, your voice shaking with the intensity of it all. Eyes squeezed shut, you grind harder against him, feeling his body respond to every movement, the overwhelming pleasure building like a fire threatening to consume you whole. Your breath comes in ragged gasps, each one laboured, as your lungs scream for air, but it's impossible to stop—the rush of sensations too strong, too powerful.

He holds you steady with firm, possessive strength, guiding your movements as you lose yourself completely. The world spins as you arch into him, the pleasure cresting, rising and shattering within you.

Adar's control is unyielding even now, but when your body falters, collapsing against him, he lets you fall limp against his chest, at last releasing his grip on your neck. Your heartbeat settles as his long fingers gently trace patterns along your back.

Without a word, he rises, leading you to his bed, and lays you down gently atop the rough blankets. For a moment, he simply watches you, his green eyes taking in the way your chest rises and falls, your body still trembling from the aftermath of pleasure.

Then, with deliberate slowness, he joins you. His hands, no longer rough with restraint, glide over your skin with a tenderness that surprises you. He settles beside you, pulling you into his arms, his body warm and solid against yours.

You lie there, knowing the weight of your partings will linger far longer than the moment you shared tonight.